Soul Mate (The Mating Series) (8 page)

             
Ben smiled, gently. “I don’t have a specific person in mind and you’re probably right about none of them knowing anything.”

             
“If you need to talk to someone, I’ll arrange it, but for obvious reasons we don’t let men into the general facility.”

             
Ben gave me a puzzled expression. “I don’t understand.”

             
“Most of these women have been physically, emotionally, and spiritually depleted by men. Usually, it started long before the drugs and prostitution. Often it started in their childhood with some type of sexual abuse.”

             
“I see,” he said, contemplating. “These women associate men with hurt.” Ben stared at me. I shifted and busied myself with paperwork. “You don’t. Do you?” He asked.

“I don’t what?” I asked.

“Associate men with hurt?”

I thought for a moment. Like many of
the residents, my father wasn’t a strong male in my life. His philandering ways influenced my dating, but I didn’t fear men or commitment. “No,” I finally replied.

“That didn’t sound very convincing
,” Ben said.

“I have my issues, like everyone,”
My daddy left me; my mom’s dead, but still haunts me; and a lover that’s psychic and sees me with someone else…just your average issues.
“but I’m not like my residents.”

“No, you sure aren’t.” Ben said
, softly. His big amber eyes undressed me.

“Excuse me?” I asked.
Was he hitting me?

             
“You’re different.” He said, shaking his head. “I mean that’s why you’re in this position and helping them. You’re different…more caring than most.”

             
I stared at him. The conversation took an odd turn. Ben nervously repositioned himself in the small chair. I found Detective Ben King amiable. I liked him. He wasn’t Jimmy, but like Jimmy, Ben had an exotic tone about him. Today his eyes seemed like that of a tiger, hungry and wild.

             
“I guess that’s all I have to ask,” Ben said.

             
He stood to leave. “Let me walk you out.” I couldn’t trust that he would walk out of my office and leave. I watched detective shows On T.V. the cop did whatever to get the answers he needed. As I maneuvered around my desk, my heel caught on a worn piece of carpet. I pitched forward, arms flailing, and ungraciously landed in Ben’s arms.

             
For a split second, Ben buried his face into my hair. “Mmm,” he said, so faint that I could have imagined it.

             
“Ahem!” A throat clearing sound came from behind. Ben and I jumped as if caught in the midst of a passionate embrace. I turned to face the person. It was Jimmy. He leaned on the door frame watching. I saw a hint of dimples. I flushed.

Jimmy looked magnificent. He wore a pair of navy Italian cut
slacks with a lighter blue polo. His hair hung loose. The shirt fit tight across his chest and around his biceps. I beamed at Jimmy. Jimmy wordlessly gave me a nod, and then looked between me and the detective. I smiled. Again, Jimmy looked at me and then at the detective. He attempted to tell me something.
What?
I thought, but then I realized. I never moved from Ben. I remained froze in his arms. Ben pulled me closer on guard. His muscles twitched. Pressed against Ben’s chest, I felt his entire body against mine.  I could feel a bulge between us.
Holy crap!

I quickly
, but not easily, broke from Ben’s embrace. “Jimmy, this is Detective Ben King. He’s investigating that homicide I told you about.”

             
“Jimmy Kim.” Jimmy introduced and extended his hand. “I’m Cassie’s
boyfriend
,” Jimmy added.

             
“Nice to meet you,” Ben said. He raised an eyebrow in examination of Jimmy. Jimmy did the same.
They were actually sizing each other up!
The air thickened with testosterone.

             
“This is for you.” Jimmy said, pulling a single red rose from behind his back. Ben smirked. “Thank you,” I said. I reveled in the attention.

             
“We’d better go. Our reservations are for five-thirty,” Jimmy said.

             
“I was just leaving,” Ben said.

             
“Wait, Detective King, we’ll walk you out.”  I still wouldn’t allow him free to wander the halls of Mary House.

             
“No bother, I can find my way.”

             
“Sorry, it’s policy to escort visitors around the facility,” I said. The three of us walked out together. Jimmy on my right and Ben on my left. About every two seconds, one of the men would cast a sidelong glance at the other.
Oh brother!

             
As Ben headed for the front doors he turned. “I’ll let you know of any developments, Ms. Williams.” He walked out the door and was gone.

             
I stopped at the front desk. “Nessie, make sure no one lets Detective King past the reception area if he comes back.”

             
“I’m sorry, Ms. Cassie, I wasn’t here when he came in. Jane let him in your office.”

             
“It’s alright, Nessie, I just don’t want him questioning the residents.”

             
Jimmy and I left. Nessie followed to lock the front doors behind us. Once out in the lot, Jimmy took my hand. He laced his fingers in mine without a word. I looked up at him. A broad smile brandished his face. I saw the deep dimples on his cheeks. I swooned a little. I felt insecure at my appearance. My looks didn’t compare to Jimmy’s.
I can’t believe he’s with me.

At the
car, Jimmy let out peals of laughter. “What?” I demanded. I didn’t like being on the outside of and inside joke.

             
“You have an admirer.”

             
“Who?” I asked.

             
“Cassie, no wonder you’ve been single so long.  The stunning Detective King.” Jimmy laughed. “Really, are you that oblivious?”

             
“Jimmy, people in Ohio felt the male bravado rumbling between the two of you.” Jimmy opened the car door for me.
I could get used to this treatment.
“Is he the one?” I asked, confident of the answer from Jimmy’s light mood.

             
“I can’t tell, but I don’t think so.”

             
“Why can’t you tell?” I asked. “Can you read him?”

             
“Not everyone is an open book Cassie,” Jimmy said. He turned the key in the ignition and his car stereo came on playing an old jazz song. He backed out of the space. “Super stud, has a huge wall around him.”

             
“A wall?” I asked.

             
“He keeps much of his life deep inside,” Jimmy said. “It’s not uncommon for cops.”

             
“So you can’t read him?”

             
“I didn’t say that. I said he is harder to read. I don’t have to be psychic to see how he feels about you.”

             
“And how’s that?” I asked.

             
“Let’s just say,” Jimmy said, “he wouldn’t mind patting you down for dangerous weapons.” We both laughed.

             
“So it’s not him?”

             
“Like I said, I don’t think so.” I relaxed. “I could be wrong.”

             
“Jimmy!” I shouted. “Either he is or he isn’t?”

             
“If I thought he was, I would have split.”

             
“How long were you standing there?” I asked.

             
“I walked in just in time to see the flight of the wounded flamingo.” Jimmy flapped his arms mockingly.

             
“Oh!” I huffed exasperate.

             
“I wish I’d recorded it with my phone,” Jimmy laughed, “it was YouTube funny.”  I blushed with humiliation. “It was kind of cute.” Jimmy said, flashing a flirty smile. “You can fall on my like that.”

             
I punched his arm playfully and said, “Not unless you stop talking about it!”

             
“Seriously, why was Mr. Hot Cop there?”

             
“Oh yeah.” My spirits suddenly dropped. “They found Skye.”

             
“Oh man!” Jimmy smacked the steering wheel.

             
“Everything you saw was dead on.”

             
“You know, sometimes being right is the worst part of having the sight.” Jimmy often called his ability
the sight
or
the gift
. In the months following the Carson Kittheridge incident, Jimmy called it
the curse.
“Do the police have any leads?”

             
“No and they found another girl with her,” I said.

             
“Three women.” Jimmy said, shaking his head.

             
“The other girl was still in her teens. She wasn’t even and adult. Jimmy it’s so sad.”

             
“It is.”

             
“You haven’t had any more visions have you?”

             
“No. I’ve played Saturday’s vision over and over trying to remember something else.”

             
“Like what?”

             
“Something I missed. Something that could have saved Skye, but I guess it’s no use now.”

He began to accelerate as he merged the BMW onto I-465.
The interstate became gridlocked at rush hour. I feared we wouldn’t make our reservations. “We did what we could to warn Skye,” I said, although I felt the same.              

I wondered if I could have done something more to save Skye.
The conversation became somber as we sat in traffic. I changed the subject to lighten the mood.  “What’d you do today?” I asked.

“I
did readings all day,” Jimmy said. “You know that.”

“I do, but did anything unusual happen?”

“Why?” He asked, skeptically.

“Boy, you call me oblivious
,” I said, frustrated. “I’m trying to change the subject. I want to enjoy our evening, not talk about the sadistic murders of innocent women.”

“Sorry
,” He said. “Let’s see.” Jimmy tapped his chin as he searched for an agreeable anecdote. “Well, there was this one funny thing that happened.”

“Really? What?” I urged, pleased to move past conversation of murder.

“I have a client that I see on a regular basis. She’s pretty wealthy.”

“Do I know her?” I asked.

“Maybe.” He replied, with a shifty smile. Whenever I asked about his clients, Jimmy always responded in a furtive manner.

“Go on
,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“As you can imagine, she always looks glamorous. In my mind I kept seeing her look like a peasant. She
wore tattered overalls, boots, and a straw hat. Her hair was a mess and she had mud all over her. The funniest thing was that she had thousands of frogs all around her.”

“Is she getting ready to lose all her money?”
I asked, concerned.

“That’s what I thought. I stressed over how to tell this woman, who’s dripping in diamonds, that she’s about to go broke.”

“What happened?” I asked, intrigued.

“I was quiet for a long time and finally the woman said ‘
Jimmy, Darling, I know its bad news so just say it!’.”
Jimmy said, in an exaggerated voice. He laughed. “So I told her exactly what I saw.”

“Did she freak out?”

“No, she started laughing.”

“Laughing?”

“Yes! ‘
We are going to save the frogs!’
the woman exclaimed. I guess she’s working with some environmental group going to South America to save some kind of endangered bull frog.” I laughed. People, me included, searched for answers about life. They used Jimmy for validation.

I wasn’t
a deep theological thinker, but with Mom and Jimmy around, I couldn’t help thinking about things such as destiny and fate. Over the last four years, Jimmy and I engaged in many deep discussions. He understood life so well. I valued his insight. Before Mom, I staggered through life not caring about what it all meant, but Jimmy opened my eyes to purpose and destiny. “You’re meant to be a healer,” Jimmy once said. “You’re a nurturer.”

Mom agreed. “She brought home every stray and injured animal as a kid. She’s still trying to bring h
ome strays, but this time they’re stray people.”