BLIND: A Mastermind Novel (11 page)

I have some work to catch up on, but I’ll be around most of the day.

As the message sent, a nip of panic crawled up her spine. What if she was the easiest target in the world and she just gave him enough information to find her, kill her, and get away scot-free?

Perfect. I will message you here tomorrow at 12:00. We can have lunch together.

She laughed—a cyber lunch. They were taking the term online dating to a new literal level.

Okay.

I look forward to it, Ms. Farrow. Enjoy the rest of your evening. Sweet dreams.

Disappointment swamped her as the abrupt conclusion of their conversation took her by surprise. Maybe he worried he was keeping her from something.

We can talk a little longer if you’d like.

True, but I’d rather leave you to think on what I’ve said for the night. It brings me great pleasure to imagine you in bed thinking of me. I’ll be doing the same, in my bed, pondering you and all the ways I intend to adore you. Goodnight, Scarlet.

She shivered. There had to be something wrong with a person who could get turned on by an absolute stranger. Her mind was so lost in the fantasy of Mr. Perfect, she didn’t want to consider reality.

In reality, she’d likely never meet him. He’d move on to some other girl and she’d be forgotten. Or she might come back and find his profile deleted like it was never there. Either way, she was certain they’d never really meet.

Most likely he’d just bullshitted the hell out of her, but hey, if this was role-playing it had the desired effect. She felt better than she had in weeks, wanted and attractive. Pretending online for a few hours on a lonely Friday night beat the hell out of watching Harry Potter with her cat for the twentieth time.

Chapter Four

Enchantment

The following morning, Scarlet awoke a bit lighter. Lying in bed, she grinned to herself, recalling the interesting man of mystery from the night before. Mr. Stone.

Her mind played over various shades of blue, trying to decide which was closest to the color of his eyes. No matter how much she tried not to get ahead of herself, every time she imagined him he was gorgeous. The temptation to run to her computer and check if his profile was still there was only belied by her fear he’d be gone.

Last night was such a breath of fresh air. If anything, Mr. Stone broke up the monotony of her weekend and she liked him for that simple fact alone. So what if it was all talk and they never actually met? It wasn’t like he was keeping her from living a real life.

Playing over their conversation in her mind, she grinned then groaned into her pillow. “You’re living in a fantasy world,” she mumbled to herself as Thor pounced on her butt and began kneading as if her were a baker making fresh bread.

Was it strange that she missed him? Her curiosity was increasing with every speculation. Unable to resist another minute, she climbed from bed and found her laptop.

Thor impatiently nudged her knee in a plea for food. Her heart raced as she waited for her computer to load. Passing the time, she opened a can of Fancy Feast—only the best for her beast—and quickly fed the cat.

The excitement running through her veins made it difficult to type as she logged into her GeekPeek account. As soon as the page opened she went right to her messages. There it was, their entire conversation.

Carrying the laptop to the table, she doctored up her coffee, distracted by his curious words and getting sugar everywhere. Reading over the exchange was as exciting as it was the first time round. Maybe more so, because now she wasn’t as afraid of him and no longer assumed it was Nicole trying to punk her.

Sipping from her mug, she grinned as she continued to read, intrigued all over again. When she reached the part where he said goodnight, the same disappointment from the evening before swamped her.

Glancing at the clock, she noted there were still several hours until noon. Damn it! She wanted to talk to him again, but she didn’t want to come on too strong or too desperate. Snooping around, she went to his profile. Without accepting his friendship request there really wasn’t much to see.

Taking a deep breath, she clicked accept. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t this. Her mouth pulled to the side as she scoped out his profile. The sword in the stone picture was the only photo. He’d joined GeekPeek only a week ago, which meant he was probably full of shit.

Overwhelmed by the sense of disenchantment, she drooped back in her chair. “You’re an idiot, Scarlet.”

She was so gullible. She knew it. No matter how much she warned herself it was a joke, she still got carried away.

As she prepared to log out, a notification pinged. A strange cross of skepticism and longing filled her when she read his name. If she let this continue she’d likely wind up more disappointed than she already was.

He isn’t real.

Sighing, she—a glutton for punishment—clicked the notification and was taken to a post on her profile.

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Oh, okay, Humphrey Bogart. Now you’re just being lazy.
”
He could at least make up his own lines.

Disgusted with how hopeful she’d allowed herself to become, she backed out of the page, accidentally hitting the key that took her to the page last visited. His page. But now it was updated.

“What the—
”
The post was to her.

Good morning, Ms. Farrow. I told you I took my privacy seriously. No one can see this page but you. Stop wasting time on GP and go start your day. I don’t expect you to be distracted when we have lunch.

Scrolling down to his friend list she, again, noted more peculiarities. She was it. This was such crap. She should defriend him and block his lying ass. But
she’d
be lying if she said his flirty post didn’t excite her. God, she really was desperate, settling for a pathetic puppet profile rather than having the dignity to move on.

She scowled at her laptop. She should shut it. Just walk away. Forget he existed—which he didn’t—and go interact with some real people in the real world. Funny, that was easier said than done. And maybe that was partly her fault.

She growled. Her dating life was a disgrace due largely to inner monologues like this. The games, the facades, it was all bullshit, nothing but smoke and mirrors leading people to destinies they probably weren’t meant to find. She could be mysterious too, she decided.

Leaning forward, she quickly commented on his post.

I’m not wasting time. I was talking to friends. A little arrogant of you to assume I came here for you.

Her finger snapped down on the enter key and she waited…and waited…and waited as doubt slowly corroded her bravado. What if she pissed him off? She shouldn’t care. He wasn’t even real. Stone indeed. She desperately needed to adopt a nothing to lose attitude where this guy was concerned.

The computer chimed and she refreshed her screen in a demeaning display of hopefulness. Oh well, it wasn’t like anyone was around to witness it.

Noon, Scarlet. Noon.

She pouted, actually pouted. What was happening here? He’d somehow taken control of the situation and now she was pressed to do—what exactly? Housework? Grade papers?

There were three hours until lunch. Her schoolbag was in the hall. Retrieving the tests from last week, she settled in at the table. Thirty minutes later they were marked and she was adding the scores to her grade tracker.

Once she finished with the paperwork, she put everything back in her bag and tapped her foot impatiently. What the hell should she do now? She glanced at her laptop.
Don’t do it.

Shaking her head she went to the broom closet and retrieved the furniture polish and a rag. As she dusted, her mind wandered. Why was she listening to him? Who was he to tell her what to do? Yet, for some reason, she wanted to do as he asked, liked the subliminal link to someone other than herself.

Attention that had to be begged for, only held a fraction of the value of freely given attention. If she waited and kept herself busy, it would be worth more in the end. It would also be more exciting.

Wow. She
was
excited. But her empty availability shined a bit too much light on her lonesome circumstances. Once the furniture was clean and her house smelled like soft lemon, she tossed the rag in the laundry and went to take a shower. As the water poured over her body, her mind wandered. Visions of blue eyes and broad shoulders filled her head. What would his voice sound like?

Oh, she imagined that horrid episode of
Sex and the City
when the girls were checking out the pool boy who turned out to have an unbearably high-pitched voice. That wouldn’t be good.

There had to be something wrong with him. Eventually she’d discover his flaws and that would be that, alone again. Wait. What was she saying? She was alone now.

Shaking her head, she dried herself off and tried to get a grip. She was really getting ahead of herself.

Slipping into soft lounge pants and a hooded sweatshirt, she grabbed her purse, and headed out the door on a whim. She drove aimlessly for several minutes, her pointless wandering irritating her more with every passing second.
Go buy something.

There really wasn’t anything she needed, but—Her gaze caught on the new boutique on the corner. It looked like something of a perfume imperium, but she wasn’t sure. It also looked expensive. Sliding into a metered space, she stared at the storefront, noting the well-dressed woman entering.

Her gaze dropped to her lap, scrutinizing her yoga pants and flicking a tuft of Thor hair off the knee. A sense of empowerment slipped through her. She could be a woman like that, couldn’t she? She shut off the car and grabbed her purse before her introverted nature got the better of her.

She hadn’t always been such a homebody. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t exactly sure when she’d decided to shut the world out and make her own. It wasn’t something she excelled at—world building. If anything, hers was bleak and littered with conversations between her and her cat. Yeah, she was doing this.

Pushing through the heavy glass door of the boutique, her senses were assaulted with feminine fragrances as her eyes adjusted to the lush displays and white lighting. “Good morning,” a woman adjusting a display of necklaces crooned.

Scarlet smiled. “Good morning.”

“Can I help you find something?”

When she didn’t scoff at her attire or sloppy bun, and Scarlet’s anxiety faded a notch. “You know, I’m not really sure what I’m looking for. Something for myself, I think.”

The woman smiled, placing the last of the necklaces on the display and coming around the counter. “Well then, we should find something great. Do you like jewelry? Or perhaps one of our signature fragrances? We also have a new makeup line. Do you have time for a consultation?”

Her awkwardness might as well be body odor, because it seemed to be emanating from her pores. “Um, like you do my makeup and show me how?”

The woman laughed. “Exactly. Come have a seat.”

Scarlet followed her to a plush violet stool and stashed her purse on the floor. She fidgeted as the woman gathered pallets and enough brushes to paint the Sistine Chapel.

“My name’s Fiona.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Scarlet.”

Fiona used a soft cloth with something moist to wipe down her face. Whatever she was using smelled so good if it was food, Scarlet would have eaten it. “What sort of regimen do you use, Scarlet? Your skin’s beautiful.”

Having the other woman so close gave Scarlet ample time to appraise her beauty and it was astounding. “Um, I don’t really have one. I put lotion on my face when it’s dry and I’m a big fan of chapstick.”

Fiona smiled. “Are you going somewhere? Looking for a new look?”

“Not really. I guess I just figured a change might be nice.”

She combed her eyebrows with a dainty bristled wand. “Change is fun. A woman needs a good change now and again. Are you married?”

Why? Why did this personal inquisition happen with every stranger? “No.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Well, lucky you. I sometimes wish I had a chance to go back to your age and do it all over again, single, without all the dating nonsense.”

She frowned. It was so rude, but she had to ask. The woman looked fresh out of college, if that. “How old are you?”

Fiona winked, as if the illusion of youth was intended and Scarlet’s uncertainty flattered her. “I’m forty-six.”

“Wow.”

She nodded and applied a silky beige cream to her cheeks. “The products we sell are amazing. You’ll see. What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a teacher.”

“So you’ll be wanting a subtle look, I assume. Something easy for those early Monday mornings?”

“Sure.” Makeup was a foreign concept to her. On fancy occasions she sometimes swathed her lashes with drug store mascara, but that was the end of her knowledge on facial products.

As Fiona brushed her face with various powders, Scarlet developed a strange fondness for all the fancy vials and compacts, finding them ultra feminine, but nonetheless intimidating.

“You have gorgeous eyes. They’re such a fascinating shade of blue-green.”