“I think . . . you should.”

Lightheaded, part of her dancing on air and the rest incredibly frustrated, Linda managed to get her shoes on again and find her keys. “Shall I meet you at your office?”

“No,” Marissa said quickly. “At the Opera Café. Do you know where that is?”

Linda nodded. Her motel was across the street. “Seven?”

“Yes, please.” Marissa’s voice was husky but Linda didn’t dare look back. She could picture the yielding legs, the robe falling open, the pink flush on Marissa’s neck and face.

It seemed miles to the car. Part of her mind was still in Marissa’s bedroom and they had never stopped rocking together on the bed.

She had waited a year to reclaim the wonder of being with Marissa, to see herself again in Marissa’s eyes. This time she knew she was the woman Marissa thought she was. If she had to wait another year for Marissa to trust her again, then so be it.

Her mind made up, but her body in a major pout, she drove toward her motel. Job or not, she needed to find a place to live. She wasn’t budging from the area unless Marissa told her to go.

Chapter 15

“This is our manifesto: there is someone perfect for you out there.” Marissa tried to look as if her ankle wasn’t aching as she turned on the overhead projector. It was a good thing she’d gone ahead and dressed as if there would be no one to take this presentation for her, because there hadn’t been.

Spending the rest of her Sunday following WebMD’s sprained ankle advice while her thoughts went around and around in circles had at least helped her ankle. Her mind was still a mess.

“Your perfect someone is there. Like anything in life, your perfect someone is worth looking for. Why not look smart? Why not let technology help?”

After all, she mused, it found me three and possibly even more compatible women I could have been happy with, most likely. Eventually we’d have went zing in every room in the house, I’ll bet. It’s possible the world was full of 97s and 98s. It was all Linda’s fault that 98 wasn’t enough.

“At Finders Keepers we are constantly updating our questionnaire to capture not just who you are today but the changes likely in your life, and match your personality and character with someone who can adapt and grow with you as you adapt and grow with them.”

What had all the zing and passion gotten her, anyway? Okay, there were those moments when having a body with nerves in certain places had finally made sense, moments when skin and electricity seemed like the same thing. And okay, those moments were worth months of not feeling that, and okay, zing and passion weren’t things she was going to live without.

Dang it all, no sooner did she think she believed one thing for certain than she argued herself into the exact opposite thinking. She could live without zing, without sex, without all the drama but then why bother even dating? A perfectly dispassionate electrical appliance could provide plenty of hum to break up the ho.