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And here's the first scene: Trouble walked into my office at 8:57 that Monday morning. I didn’t know he was trouble then, of course. Didn’t know the skin rippling on my arms was a warning. Didn’t know how different my life would be in a few short weeks. Dismissing my goosebumps as a chill from the cool air following him in from the outer room, I gestured to the visitor’s chair. He reached across my desk. “Seth Updike. Nice to meet you.” “Regina Blynde. Welcome to Blynde Dating Agency.” His hand was warm and dry and lightly calloused. Warning number two—the butterflies battling in my belly. He wasn’t the first sexy silver fox I’d interviewed. He wasn’t even the first I’d been attracted to. I pushed aside my reaction as the normal hormones of a healthy hetero female confronted by a good-looking male. Besides, he was a client. And clients were strictly off limits. He settled into the leather and chrome chair. No arrogant sprawl, no nervous perching. Just an easy confidence I rarely saw in an applicant. My normal tactic when meeting a new client was to let them take the lead. A few moments of silence had most people jumping in to fill the void, and I learned a lot in those first minutes of babble. Seth Updike, however, appeared ready to wait me out. His broad chest rose and fell with even breaths, his hands lay loosely on his thighs, and his blue eyes watched me with lazy amusement. Two decades plus in human resources had taught me strategies for dealing with all personality types. This man was going to be a challenge, but I was confident I could handle him. I adjusted my approach. “Tell me what you are hoping we can do for you, Mr. Updike.” I always kept things formal until invited otherwise. “It’s Seth.” Bingo. He’d taken the first step. Now we were on the path to becoming a team working to achieve the same goal. “And I’m Ginnie.” I leaned into my tall-backed executive chair and swivelled gently. I knew it dwarfed me, made me look tinier than my five foot and a half inches. Even the twenty pounds of grief weight I carried was disguised by its size. It was a purposeful choice. The less threatening I looked, the more people opened up to me. You’d think people hoping I will find them love and companionship would be eager to tell me about themselves. Not so much. We all have masks we hide behind. We all want others to see us as stronger, prettier, smarter than we see ourselves. I am not exempt from this. My mask is stitched together with pain and sorrow and fury. It helps me see the masks others wear. “I’m not here to find a soulmate.” This was warning number three, though I didn’t know it at the time. “I’m fifty years old and understand when to temper my expectations. I’ll be happy with a companion, someone who enjoys the same things I do, who doesn’t create unnecessary drama, who will enhance my life.” I knew he was fifty-one years old from the online profile he’d filled out. He might have misspoken without a hidden agenda—I often had to think hard before I remembered I was fifty-four—but then again, he might be vain enough to lie just that teensy bit. It was a small failing and I liked him better for it. “What made you choose my agency?” “You hooked me with the name.” The lazy amusement flared into a bright spark, the crow’s feet around his eyes deepening. I despaired the day would ever come when wrinkles on a woman would be as sexy as those on a man. “The fact that you’re a local business reeled me in. It was your process that landed me, though.” He’d listed fishing as one of his hobbies. Along with hiking, camping, skiing, and other outdoor activities. I found it easy to believe he’d been honest about those pursuits. He had the lean honed look of a guy who spent little time in front of a TV or computer screen. “What about the process?” I probed. He crossed a khaki-clad leg over his knee and smoothed his palm down his thigh. It was his first sign of nervousness. “I researched other online dating services, but they felt too impersonal, too”—he circled a hand in the air above his head—“global. When I read that the online profile is only the first step in your matching system, and that you interview all applicants face-to-face, I figured I’d give it a try. I was also impressed that the references on your website are all from people in their forties and older. I have a twenty-five-year-old daughter. I’m not interested in dating anyone even remotely close to her age.” Well, that was refreshing. I rejected many of the men—and more of the women than you might think—who applied because they were unwilling to consider potential partners in their own age group. Not that I insist clients stick within a certain range. But those who are adamant their dates must be ten or fifteen or twenty years younger often have issues that are more complicated than I am willing to deal with. “Your application indicates your most recent long-term relationship ended about ten years ago.” We didn’t use the term ‘married’ on our forms. It was the commitment that counted, not the paperwork. “Yes.” This brevity was at odds with his earlier openness. I poked a little more. “So why now? What encouraged you to seek our help?” The skin at the base of my throat tingled from his stare as he contemplated his response. He continued to avoid my eyes when he finally did reply. “It seemed like the right time.” I sensed there was more to his answer, but he was allowed to keep his counsel. Unless his secret harmed another of my clients. Then I’d be all over his ass. I pulled over the folder I’d prepared. “Here’s a selection of women I think might suit. Let’s get to work.” You can read the first three chapters here, but don't forget to come back and hop over to Leslie Hachtel so you don't miss out on what she shared!
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