problem.â She hesitated, thinking of the disaster in Frequency City. âTrue, there are cases where it is impossible to match a client, but those instances, thankfully, are rare. The real problems start when people donât like the results I come up with and refuse to even meet a potential match.â
He threw her a quick look, brows raised. âDoes that happen a lot?â
âMore often than it should. Unfortunately, when it comes to Covenant Marriages, a lot of people have very fixed ideas of what they want in a mate. In many instances those notions are flat-out wrong. There are occasions when I canât convince a really stubborn client to give one of my recommendations a try.â
âWhat do you do when that happens?â
âTerminate the clientâs agency contract and refund the fees that have been paid. Marriage consultants try to avoid being responsible for bad matches at all costs. Itâs not good for business in a field where referrals are everything.â
âI can see that. Until the marriage laws get loosened up a little more, getting stuck in a bad CM is the equivalent of a jail sentence.â
Spoken with great depth of feeling, she thought. It was going to be a very long time, if ever, before Davis was ready to trust a matchmaker again.
Chapter 6
SHE HAD TO KNOW THAT THE DRESS LOOKED SEXY AS hell on her, Davis thought. She must have chosen it deliberately to make an impact on him.
He decided that might or might not be a good thing. If Celinda had set out to tantalize him because she was attracted to him, that was excellent. But in all likelihood she was playing him in order to distract him from the missing relic. Either way, though, it made for an intriguing evening, just as he had anticipated. Frustrating as hell, though. He had been half-aroused ever since heâd picked her up at her door.
They managed to get through a couple of glasses of wine and dinner without discussing the artifact. In fact, three hours later, when the check arrived, Davis was a little stunned to realize how much they had talked about without even straying toward touchy subjects like relics and Guilds.
Either Celinda was an expert when it came to the feminine art of distraction, or else she really did feel some of the sizzle he was experiencing.
She looked up as the waiter came back with the plastic box that contained the uneaten portion of her grilled fish.
âThank you,â she said, taking the box.
Davis got to his feet. âIs that for you or Araminta?â
âAraminta. I told you, sheâs been eating like a very large farm animal lately. Iâm a little worried, to be honest. Does Max eat a lot?â
Davis shrugged. âSeems like a reasonable amount for an animal that size.â
âWhat do you feed him?â
âHe seems happy to eat whatever Iâm eating.â He smiled a little. âOr drinking. Whenever I open a bottle of beer, he insists I give him some.â
âWonder what they eat in the wild?â
âProbably better not to ask.â
Outside, the air was a warm, silken cloak. The night was luminous with the faint green glow of the nearby Dead City wall. Parking around restaurants and nightspots was always at a premium in the Quarter. Heâd been forced to leave the Phantom a block and a half away in a narrow side lane.
âWhy donât you wait here,â he said to Celinda. âIâll get the car and bring it around.â
âThatâs all right,â she said. âI love the energy here in the Quarter, especially at night.â
She felt it, too, he thought. The energy of the night was all around them. Screw the damn relic. Heâd worry about it later. Next year, maybe.
He looked at her. âYouâre right. Great energy.â
She smiled.
He took her arm, savoring the feel of soft, bare, female skin under his fingers. In a heartbeat his senses opened wide to the night and the woman beside
Stephen G. Michaud, Roy Hazelwood
S. Ravynheart, S.A. Archer