Designing Passion
Reading the questionnaire for the twentieth time, Tawny scanned her answers to the unbearably personal questions. With as much honesty as she could provide, filling out this page opened a can of worms she still might not be ready for.
Six years since she’d even accepted a date, let alone considered having a physical rendezvous with anyone, made the prospect of a match up with a complete stranger nerve wracking to say the least. Her pervasive physical desires—with a nudge from her friend, Laura—had forced their way through her cold exterior and frigid heart. Maybe a one-night stand would be enough to break the ice and give her a chance to move forward for the first time in years. After all, it was only sex. No commitment, no emotion, and no broken heart. One final attempt to experience the earth-shattering intensity she’d enjoyed with her first sexual encounter. Sex had become one disappointment after another; she’d almost given up altogether.
Tawny glared at her friend’s email that had started it all.
Subject: Madame Evangeline .
Reading it again might remind her of why she agreed to seek 1NightStand’s services.
Tawny, I know you’ve been hurt, but life is passing you by, and you’re missing the best parts. I’m not suggesting you find love, but rather a chance to feel some joy for a change. Please consider contacting Madame Eve. Her reputation is solid, her service is legitimate, and she ensures the safety of all her clients. I promise it’s confidential; no one will ever have to know. Do this for you. Maybe, one day, you can at least smile again. I love you. Laura .
With a resigned sigh, she closed the questionnaire and hit send, wincing as the outbox emptied in a flash. Done. She’d stalled for a week, obsessing over the questions that dredged up her painful past. Consumed in her black cloud moment, she jerked when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Tawny.”
“Hey, Laura.”
“Well?”
“Well what?” Tawny made no effort to curtail her irritation.
“Did you?”
She stared at the computer screen.
“Tawny?”
“ Yes .” Drawing a deep breath, she prayed for patience. Laura meant well.
“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so pushy.”
She got up from her chair and walked to her fridge, thirsty. “I know, Laura. I’m—a little on edge.”
“Was it hard to do?”
“I would rather have chewed glass and crawled over hot coals.” She grabbed the orange juice, closed the door, and took a glass from the cupboard while cradling her lifeline between her ear and shoulder.
“Wow, so, better than you thought?” A soft chuckle slipped through the phone.
“Laura—” She stopped pouring.
“It’s okay, Tawny, you did the right thing. Time to start living again, honey.”
“So what now?”
“From what I understand, Madame Eve will review your profile and find an ideal match for you. You won’t be disappointed.”
“Huh! Can’t disappoint someone who expects nothing.” Carrying her drink, she plopped onto the kitchen stool and slumped over the island.
“Pessimist.”
“Hey, I aim to please. There’s no point in changing my attitude now, is there?”
“Anyway, once she finds a match, she’ll contact you again and make the arrangements.”
“I feel so pathetic, it’s like—I’m desperate—paying someone to get me—”
“Listen, she’s a classy lady with a high end matching service for the romantically impaired. You’ll be fine.”
“If you believe in her so much, why haven’t you utilized her services? As I recall, you’re not so romantically fit yourself these days.”
“It just so happens, smartass, I sent my own questionnaire in an hour ago, thank you very much.”
“Seriously?” Tawny couldn’t believe her ears.
“Well, I figured if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.” Her laughter gave her away; she shared Tawny’s overwhelming nervousness. “Oh, I took the liberty of asking for a few
Maggie Brendan
Barbara O'Connor
Jan Washburn
Terri Blackstock
Norah Simone
Barry Kemp
G.P. Taylor
Alan Cumyn
Linda Barnes
Lisa Jackson