dating.” A topic on which he planned to stay mostly silent. He’d prepped for this gig, and could spout all sorts of information about Matchmaker, but theoretical knowledge was one thing. He’d been single and entirely celibate for almost five years before That Night. A modern Lothario, he was not.
“Well, I’m interviewing Annabelle in the afternoon, so hopefully I’ll see you around. I’d love to talk to you more.” Helena gave William a concerned look. “Annabelle will be well enough for the interview, won’t she? I know this was a last-minute addition to her schedule.”
“I’ll make sure of it. Can you both excuse me for a second? I have to catch someone before they leave.” William smiled at him and Helena and walked away.
Helena took a step closer and Samson knew what was coming after the second word. People had a very specific careful tone of voice they used when addressing the grieving. “I was so sorry to hear about your uncle. Please accept my condolences.”
The shaft of pain was fresh. Uncle Joe had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s nine years ago, and Samson had moved in with him. The older man had been hit with another diagnosis, ALS, five years ago, and Samson had officially become his full-time caretaker.
He’d known that his uncle would one day die, that there was no cure for what he’d had. But the end had still stunned Samson. “Thank you for your sympathy. I appreciate—” A flash of black and red in the corner of his eye had him swiveling his head, hope and desire brimming up inside him, his resolve to focus on business vanishing.
The woman had her back to him as she walked briskly toward a door with a neon Exit sign above it, but he knew it was her.
“Can you excuse me?” he murmured to Helena, his body already turning away.
“Of course. See you tomorrow.”
As if she felt him stalking her, the woman glanced over her shoulder when she got to the exit, and though the ballroom was crowded, he could see no one but her. He smiled at her, so thrilled and relieved, but then he stopped dead in his tracks. Her lovely face was no longer expressionless.
Oh, no. Here was an expression.
Fury.
She was mad. Wildly, incandescently mad.
Guilt rammed into him with all the force of a Mack truck. Yeah, she was mad. She had every right to be, didn’t she?
He’d only been on Crush for a day when they’d matched. His well-meaning friends had pressured him to sign up, and her sunlit bikini-clad body in her profile picture had dissolved his wariness. She’d made it clear when she’d sat down across from him in that bar what she wanted. I’m in town for a couple days. You’re hot. We can have fun for a night.
It had been more than fun. Sliding inside her had been damned near a religious experience. He could still hear her moans and sighs in his ear as he’d stripped her jeans and sweatshirt and faded Metallica T-shirt off. And beyond the sex, he’d been intrigued. By her beauty, her secrets, her clear intelligence and subtle arrogance.
So he’d dared to ask for another night, got her to agree. He’d left her place that morning feeling a connection that he’d missed for so long, that bone-deep comfort that came from holding another human close.
And then he’d gone to his home, the house he’d shared with Joe. His uncle had started gasping for air around midday.
He’d forgotten all about their second date in his bedside vigil, his world narrowed to his dying uncle. His grief and sense of loss had been so all-consuming, he’d only remembered their date days later, after Uncle Joe had passed away.
When he’d fired up his app in a panic to message her, he’d discovered she’d already unmatched him.
Her lip curled up in a sneer, and he frowned. She should be mad at him, yes, but he could explain. He opened his mouth, her name falling from his lips, though he knew she was too far away to hear it. “Claire—”
She turned away and a large man stopped in front of him, blocking his view of her. “The Lima Charm, I can’t believe—”
“Sorry, I’m trying to catch someone,” Samson said hastily and swerved around the man, mentally cursing when he realized the door was slowly closing behind his girl.
No. He didn’t want to lose her again. He moved faster, shoving the door open and walking out. He looked one way, then the other, but