Some Guys Have all the Luck

Chapter 7—Knight in a Shining BMW

Disclaimer: The two authors of this story do not own the Matrix, etc etc.

Author’s Note: This story would not have been possible if it weren’t for the invaluable assistance of my co-author, smithsbabe65. This is, in fact, her brainchild and could not have been written without her assistance.

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After Brown had left his friend alone, he returned to his own office. The space he had been allotted was larger than Jones’ but was still much smaller and plainer than that of Smith, whose office had a spectacular window view and the best in furniture.

Brown always had the impression that Jones had been given the smallest working space of the three agents out of sheer spite on Smith’s part and Brown felt sorry that his friend had had to make do with the claustrophobic conditions that Smith forced him to work under. Still, I have to give him his due, Brown thought, Jones has never once complained; he endures everything with quiet dignity.

Brown sat dejectedly at his desk, pondering the news that had made its usual speedy arrival through the office grapevine: Smith had asked Ms. Alvarez out and she had accepted.

As if she even has a choice, he thought glumly. Every female who works here knows damn well that she faces deletion or exile if she refuses the request of Agent Smith for a date. And since all of his rendezvous end up in bed, it will be no different with Celia Alvarez. But at least with her fiery Latin disposition, she is the most likely of Smith’s recent conquests to give as good as she gets and if Smith decides to get rough, Celia will fight for her honour to the best of her ability. She is not the kind of woman who will just lie back and let Smith take what he wants from her; she will bust his balls before she goes down, Brown thought, a wicked smile crossing his face.

Barring some miracle however, Ms. Alvarez will be firmly ensconced in Smith’s bed before tomorrow night is over, I am sure of it. But that does not mean that I cannot keep an eye on her nevertheless. Besides, she may need to have someone rescue her from Smith’s clutches after all, and I can be there in the right place at the right time should things get out of hand, Brown thought logically.

However, there was a dilemma: the location of the date had not been disclosed to him. Brown was acutely aware that it was very typical of Agent Smith not reveal where he took his unsuspecting female companions until the very last minute, since the head agent always felt that a level of mystery always heightened his pleasure. But Brown also knew Ms. Alvarez well enough to know that she would never go anywhere with the slippery Smith until she had been briefed on where he was taking her.

Brown’s only hope to obtain the much-needed information lay with Celia’s best friend, Ms. Lara Rodgers. Because of the close bond the women shared, Ms. Alvarez would have certainly confided in Ms. Rodgers about the details of her upcoming date with Smith. And since Lara’s own association with Agent Jones is beginning to bear fruit, I will ask Jones to get the information from Ms. Rodgers where Smith is going to take out her friend, Brown thought, resolutely not allowing himself to give up just yet. A lot of things can happen in 24 hours.

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The rebel affair that had taken a very reluctant Jones away from Lara that Saturday afternoon was an easy matter to resolve--the two unplugged humans had been in the process of releasing a third, but due to their excellence in marksmanship, Brown and Jones had dispatched them in record time.

Smith had no reason to be present at a standard pursue, kill, and cleanup assignment--being the vain program that he was, Smith only took part in high-profile arrests that lead to his picture being taken or being written about in a newspaper.

“Well, that went as expected,” Brown said. “Quick and to the point.” He slapped Jones on the shoulder. “I can always count on you to watch my back; you’ve never disappointed me yet.” Being the observant sentient that he was, Brown could not help but notice Jones’ pre-occupied demeanour.

“What’s the matter, Jones? Did your date with Ms. Rodgers go well?”

Jones was not the kind of man to smile very much, but his face softened slightly. “It went very well, Brown. Very well indeed.”

“Well, that’s good to hear, but it doesn’t explain why you appeared to be so sad a moment ago.”

“I wasn’t sad, I was just disappointed that I had to leave Lara in the park to take care of these two,” Jones said, scornfully giving the bodies of the two rebels a disdainful shove with his foot, “humans.” But I suppose they did me a favour, getting me called away like that, Jones thought, for if I hadn’t been, I probably would have been tearing her clothes off right there in the park, that’s how strong my lust was and if I am not mistaken, so was hers.

Brown shuffled uncomfortably. “I hate to ask but when you were with her, did she, um, say anything about her friend’s date with Smith?”

Jones looked at the eager face of his young colleague. Brown was trying very hard not to appear anxious, but he was failing miserably.

“They are going to Verdi’s, Smith made reservations for seven o’clock. However, Lara told me that she will perform a reverse makeover for Ms. Alvarez.” At Brown’s puzzled look, Jones explained further. “She will make Celia as unattractive as possible so that Smith will either ditch her or change his mind about wanting to sleep with her.”

Like that’s even possible, Brown thought glumly. There is nothing Ms. Lara Rodgers can do that would possibly make Smith not want to have Celia. Once a woman catches Smith’s eye, nothing stops him from getting what he wants. Nothing. However, Brown’s gloomy mood changed when he noticed a smear of what looked like lipstick on Jones’s shirt.

“You are lucky Smith wasn’t here; he’d have your ass for not appearing in uniform,” he scolded Jones.

“What do you mean?”

“No jacket, no tie and an open shirt—he’d definitely have something to say about that.” A mischievous look twinkled in Brown’s eye. “So you were just “talking” with Ms. Rodgers when you got the call to come here?”

“Yes.”

“Right. And that is why you have lipstick on your shirt, Ms. Rodger’s DNA all over your face and her perfume on your clothes? Don’t lie to me, Jones; I’ve known you too long. So how was it?” He repressed a knowing grin as he watched Jones try to not to answer the question directly.

“A gentleman never tells,” Jones said with a sidelong look. “After your first date with Celia, I’ll ask you that question and see how you answer it. Speaking of whom, I hope everything goes well for you tonight. What are you planning to do, anyway?”

“I don’t really have a plan in mind; I’ll drive by the restaurant and hope I can see her, to see how things are going between them. I hope to hell that Ms. Rodgers has performed a miracle and managed to turn Smith off from demanding sex from Celia, but that might be too much to ask, considering the size of Smith’s libido. Hell, if she can do anything that will turn him off, I’ll send her a dozen roses on Monday.”

And I will do the same for Celia for barging into my office and knocking some sense into me, Jones thought resolutely. If it hadn’t been for her, I never would have gone out with Lara and discovered that we were meant for each other. I owe Ms. Alvarez a great debt, more than I ever can repay her. Despite the fact that she blatantly and brazenly broke the Company’s rules regarding insubordination, I certainly won’t discipline her for it; she deserves a pay raise for what she did. I can never thank her enough.

“Thanks for the support, Jones, but I’m going to need a miracle to pull this whole thing off.” Brown checked his watch. “It’s only 4:30, though. Why don’t we go have a beer and shoot some pool before zero hour? Damn it!” Brown cursed, “I’m the one assigned to watch sector-G for rebel activity tonight! How can I do both at the same time? Jones, what the hell am I going to do? I just can’t leave Celia with Smith and hope for the best, I’ve got to be there to make sure…” Brown said, his face stricken and worried.

Jones thought for a moment. “You are a senior agent; delegate the task to one of the juniors—how about Agent McCoy? He could handle something like this, I think. Only be sure to tell him not to mention it to anyone else: if Smith found out that you changed the assignment roster at the last minute, there will be hell to pay. No, forget that,” Jones said decisively. “I’ll take over your duties tonight; I’m off all day today anyway, so I can cover for you. No one will know about the change but us. The fewer people that know about this, the better.”

“You’d do that for me?” Brown asked, his face brightening as all of his scheduling difficulties had been solved thanks to the generosity of his associate and good friend.

“Sure, no problem—on the condition that you tell me how everything went between you and Ms. Alvarez. Or, how about this: a month from now, all four of us could go on a double date and you pay for everything.”

“Deal on both counts!” Brown agreed grinning. “I could really use a drink right about now. Besides, my shift wouldn’t have started until 5:30, so we can share a drink or two until then. What do you say?”

“I’ll take you up on that offer of a drink, Brown. I think we both could put a nice cold beer to good use.”

The two friends went to the nearest pub and sat down at the bar.

“I propose a toast,” Jones said, raising his glass.

“A toast to what?” Brown asked, raising his also.

“Here’s to wishing you every success in your endeavour this evening, Agent Brown.”

“And here’s to hoping you have many more dates with the lovely Ms. Lara Rodgers, Agent Jones,” responded Brown.

They clinked their glasses together and drank. They talked until both had to leave. When they parted, each wished the other good luck, shook hands and headed off to their tasks--Jones monitoring the usually quiet G-sector and Brown killing time until he could maintain a watchful eye on the goings-on at Verdi’s, one of the very few of the Matrix’s gourmet restaurants that was not owned by the Merovingian.

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Armed now with the information he needed, Brown drove past the restaurant several times where Celia and Smith were dining. Throughout the evening, he had circled his sporty BMW Z series convertible around the building, as he tried to peer inside the fogged-up windows of the eating establishment to get a better peek of the events as they unfolded between Celia and Smith. But alas, Brown’s surveillance proved to be unsuccessful. After not being able to detect any visual signs of the couple, he had quickly deduced that Smith had probably chosen a secluded spot in the back of the restaurant so that he would not be disturbed.

As time dragged on, the more worried Brown became. Smith was probably in full-blown seduction mode by now, trying to get his latest potential conquest drunk with an expensive bottle of Dom. Although Brown was confident that Ms. Alvarez could hold her own in public, how long could she fend him off before being forced to succumb to his sexual advances once they were truly alone? Smith was perfectly satisfied with consummating one-night stands in either the backseat of his car or in his apartment; all he needed was an hour or two of privacy and the debauchery—as well as the woman herself—would be finished and forgotten.

Not if I can help it, Brown thought, determined that Celia would not become the latest notch on Smith’s bedpost, documenting his track record of conquests that meant no more to him than the dirt he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. I will do whatever I have to have to prevent that from happening. Celia deserves to be treated with dignity and respect; not tossed out the next morning like yesterday’s newspaper.

Brown had half a mind to park the car and storm into the restaurant but then thought better of it. If I do that, then not only will I embarrass Celia, I would jeopardize my job. How could I explain to Smith that I am not on assignment right now monitoring G-sector for rebel activity? Even though Agent Jones so graciously volunteered to take over my duties for tonight, Smith would not let an unauthorized change in the assignment roster to go unpunished, he thought hopelessly. As he brooded over the inevitable outcome of the wretched evening, it began to rain, forcing the young agent to close the top on his vehicle.

After taking another swipe around the block, Brown stopped the car because of traffic and was surprised to see Celia outside, standing alone on the sidewalk in the pouring rain trying without success to hail a cab.

Driving quickly, Brown manoeuvred his Beemer and pulled up next to her.

“Would you like a lift, Ms. Alvarez?” he called out, simultaneously lowering the passenger side window so she could see who had hailed her. He smiled in an encouraging manner and she raised her eyebrows in surprise when she recognized him.

“Agent Brown! What are you doing here?” she asked, gratefully accepting his offer of a ride. Now it was Brown’s turn to look surprised. In comparison to Celia’s usual attire, her current wardrobe was not only conservative, it looked downright frumpy.

Come to think of it, she kind of reminds me of my old chemistry teacher from my academy days. What was the old battleaxe’s name? Oh, yes I remember now, Ms. Oppenheimer. But Celia’s true persona was a far cry from the dried up old maid that tormented he and his classmates.

“That’s an interesting look for you, isn’t it?” he asked curiously. Jones had told him that her friend had done her best to downgrade Celia’s clothes and attractiveness factor and from where Brown sat, there was no question that Lara had succeeded admirably. However, there was no denying that Celia’s exotic beauty shone out from behind her dowdy appearance.

Celia laughed; it was a light, pleasant sound and Brown could not help from responding to it. Could it be that she really is glad to be with me, he thought, a faint feeling of hope growing inside of him.

“I would have done anything, anything, to prevent Smith from mauling me later on. It was all Lara’s idea that I dress like this. She told me that what had worked for her up until now in not engaging his notice and she thought it might work for me. And it did! You should have seen his face when he saw me! It was hilarious! Even though I got stuck out in the rain, I don’t care--all that matters to me is that I didn’t have to sleep with that bastard!” Celia’s date with Smith was over and she was almost giddy with happiness. And to top the evening off, she was alone with Agent Brown and with a little manoeuvring on her part, he just might be willing to spend time with her.

The relief was plainly written on her face and Brown had to admit that Smith must need some form of visual repair if he was not able to see the loveliness that lay beneath the subdued exterior.

“That accent of yours, I never really noticed it before,” Brown remarked, after analyzing her speech patterns and tone inflections, the data informed him that Celia’s accent had come from the New York City area.

“Oh, that!” Celia giggled, “that is something that I try to keep hidden but you know the old saying: ‘you can take the girl out of New York, but you can’t take the New York out of the girl.’ I swear, Smith just stared at me when he heard it—he wasn’t too pleased, I can tell you that! But my accent comes back when I get really angry or really drunk. Lara and I finished off a bottle of tequila before I had to meet Smith. I reeked of booze and you could smell it on my breath a mile away! She thought it wouldn’t hurt to exaggerate it a bit and she was right! I sound like a cast member on that cable TV show about gangsters in New Jersey.”

Brown, impressed by her cleverness and the fact the she did not want or get to sleep with Smith, smiled at her and said, "I don't care what you are wearing, you still look pretty terrific to me."

Celia lowered her eyes. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

He noticed that Celia shivered and chastised himself for not attending to her needs earlier.

“I think you should go home and change into something dry,” he said.

Celia agreed. This is my chance to finally talk to him, she thought. “Would you like to come up to my place? It will only take me a minute to change clothes and then we can talk or something.”

Brown agreed readily. Like Jones, he had admired the object of his desire from a distance for far too long and like Jones, he would take advantage of this opportunity to get to know this intriguing and intoxicatingly beautiful woman better.

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Celia had changed into the most comfortable yet unrevealing clothing she thought was appropriate for her first tête-à-tête with Agent Brown. It was nothing more than an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, but Celia knew that if she was comfortable, then the more likely it would be that Brown would be at his ease in no time.

Tucking her feet under her, Celia sat on the sofa and was amazed at how different Brown’s attitude was now compared to the demeanour and expressionless face that was his workday manner. Every time she saw him in passing at the Agency Building, Brown’s typical behaviour was as cold as if he had been taking lessons from Agent Smith. But now, away from the office, his manner was warm and inviting and Celia could not help but shake her head in amazement at the transformation.

“What’s so funny?” Brown asked, cocking his head quizzically.

“Nothing. It’s just like the Agent Brown at the office is completely different than the one sitting across from me in my own living room.”

“Which of my two personas do you prefer?” he asked, intrigued.

“The way you are now,” Celia stated emphatically. “You are so much more open to approach.”

“Thank you. And I have to say that you are not what I expected in private either.”

Celia raised her eyebrows. “Oh? What did you expect me to be in private, Agent Brown?”

“First, just call me Brown. Second, I don’t really know what I expected. I mean, the way you dress at work, one gets the impression that…um, well…”

“That I am easy? Did you think I was going to sleep with you because you gave me a ride home?” Celia asked her eyes dark with offence. “Do you think so little of me?” Celia said, her voice a strangled whisper.

“Well--”

“Well, nothing!” she snapped. “Despite what you may think by the clothes I wear, I am not a slut or a whore or any other derogatory remark you can think of. I don’t sleep around,” Celia snapped, lifting her stubborn little chin with pride. She was angry and very hurt at his assumption, and Brown read it in her face and sought to apologize.

“I am sorry if I hurt you in any way, I did not mean it, please believe me.”

“I dress the way I do because I feel pretty. Is it so hard to believe that when a woman dresses provocatively, that she wants men to notice her? Every woman wants to be noticed and I am no different. I like it when men look at me.” But the man I wanted most to look at me was you, Celia thought but did not say it aloud.

They certainly do see you, Brown thought, and I did too. I have grossly misunderstood her, for I always thought that judging by the way she dresses, she was always on the prowl for a new conquest—a feminine version of Smith. Now I see how wrong I was. Come to think of it, Brown recollected, I do not remember a single man at the office who ever bragged about being intimate with her Now I understand why—that was because she was never intimate with anyone.

He also had to admit now that he was able to observe her in a more casual setting away from the almost sterile environment of their workplace; he really liked seeing the softer side of Celia. Brown couldn’t help but notice how absolutely adorable she looked in her understated clothing with her long dark locks pulled back into a ponytail with a scrunchy. Her face did not have a shred of make up, allowing her true beauty to shine through. Without all of the cosmetics weighing down her countenance, her features appeared fresh and youthful. The combination of vulnerability and sensuality was affecting Brown greatly. He suddenly felt very sheepish for having broached the subject of her alleged lack of morals.

“If I was as easy as you think, Agent Brown, I would have slept with Smith, wouldn’t I? But I didn’t. I have no doubt that you will repeat each and every word of this back to your boss And when you do, tell him he can go fuck himself!” She had risen to her feet and tears of anger and humiliation glistened in her eyes.

“I think I should leave,” Brown said, getting up.

“That’s right! Smith will be waiting for your report,” Celia said scathingly It was very difficult keeping the tears at bay; I’ve wanted to talk to him for so long and now I discover he thinks I am a slut! It took all of Celia’s resolve not to break down in front of the man who so misjudged her.

Brown turned and walked back to her. “Now it is you who are jumping to conclusions, Ms—I mean, Celia. I am not nor have I ever been Smith’s stool pigeon or lackey or whatever term you can think of. Smith is my boss. Period. He is not my friend nor will he ever be. You are confusing me with Jeffrey Montgomery—he is the office snitch, not me. I will repeat none of what happened between us to anyone, except perhaps Agent Jones. He is as good a friend to me as Ms. Rodgers is to you. It was no coincidence that we met tonight—Jones told me where you and Smith would be dining and I thought I’d see if I could help you in some way without directly interfering.”

“You did that for me?” Celia asked her hand on his sleeve to prevent him from leaving just yet. She had never been this physically close to him except on a professional level before but they were here, in her apartment, having a thoroughly non-businesslike conversation as any other normal man and woman.

From the moment that Celia’s hand made contact with Brown’s arm, his stiff demeanour quickly softened. Looking into her dark doe-like eyes, they seemed to be beseeching him, keeping him rooted to where he stood. Behind the gratitude present in those twin chocolate brown orbs, was also a hint of loneliness that called out to him, stirring his own feelings of yearning. It was all he could do to not to gather Celia up in his arms and hold her tightly against him.

Is this wrong, he wondered. Should I be feeling this way? We agents have not been programmed with the desire for companionship, at least not when it comes to the female members of the AI community The Source has always assumed that the collective interaction between us agents would always suffice. That our shared experiences and camaraderie with our fellow sentient colleagues would sustain us emotionally and there would be no need for us to pair off and mate.

Looking at Celia, Agent Brown now realized that the Source had been wrong, dead wrong. The Machine Mainframe never took into account that their creations had become self-aware and as such now possessed the capability to grow, develop, and most importantly, evolve as emotional beings in their own right. It was only natural, the next step on the evolutionary track.

To feel affection and attraction for the opposite sex was what the God of the Bible had instilled in the first humans so that they could populate the earth. Basic urges, that were so primal, so primitive and yet they had guaranteed the dispersal and endurance of humankind.

“Go forth and multiply” Isn’t that what Jehovah had told the first man and woman? They most certainly followed His command to the letter, didn’t they, Brown thought wryly, as he recalled the overpopulation that polluted and ultimately destroyed the world at the end of the twentieth century.

As he continued to ponder the reasons for his own conflicting feelings for the woman standing before him, Brown could not help but think to himself, if God is the embodiment of love and man was created in His image, then it would stand to reason that He granted humans the capacity to feel and share this sentiment not only with their own kind but with the other creatures that inhabited the planet, including early manifestations of AI. Weren’t artificially intelligent beings ultimately created in man’s own image? Then why should love be exclusively experienced by human beings? It is then safe to assume that the more sophisticated AI became, the more we inexorably resembled our creators in every respect, not just physically.

It has now become perfectly clear that emotions are necessary. They are what give a person their inherent uniqueness and offer the possibility for a fulfilled existence. Without them, I am a soulless shell, existing solely for the sake of duty, of purpose. Well, that is not the way that I want to continue to live my life! No, not anymore, Brown thought, feeling the determination building within him.

Wordlessly he placed his hands lovingly on either side of Celia’s face. His grey eyes had never lost contact with hers as he tried to read and detect the message hidden in her dark gaze. After a few moments, he found what he was looking for and took it as an open invitation. Leaning his face in towards hers, Agent Brown’s lips quickly but softly made contact with Celia’s.

As for Ms. Alvarez, she was taken aback at first. This sudden gesture of affection had caught her completely off guard. As Brown deepened the kiss, she moaned slightly, enjoying the sensuous connection of their joined mouths. Brown felt her mouth open a bit so he tentatively slid his tongue in halfway, however when Celia’s arms wrapped themselves around his slender waist, he boldly pushed his tongue into her sweet oral cavity the rest of the way. Immediately, Celia began to glide her tongue against his, revelling in the sensations of his soft, moist lips, the slight stubble of his five o’clock shadow raking lightly against her skin and his manly scent filled her nasal sensors, nearly causing her pheromones to launch into hyper drive.

God it’s been so long since I’ve been kissed like this, Celia thought to herself. When Brown’s hands left her face and began to caress her back, it felt like heaven to her and she didn’t want the kiss to end. But like all good things, their lip-lock had come to its eventual conclusion.

A little groan mingled with disappointment escaped Celia as she felt the warmth of Brown’s lips depart from hers. Brown in turn had pulled his face away so that he could look upon the woman he had just kissed. An amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he encountered the adorable little pout on Celia’s moist lips. Her eyes were still closed as she waited for him to kiss her again, but instead of granting her non-verbal request, Agent Brown just asked, “Well, Ms. Alvarez, did that answer your question?”

“Huh?” solicited a very absorbed and equally confused Celia. As she opened her eyes, she shook her head in an effort to drive out the self-induced trance that she was under. However, the instant that she saw Brown’s pleasant smile and clear grey eyes, poor Celia was spellbound once more. Her bewildered, flustered state just endeared her even more to Brown. Brown couldn’t help but chuckle, as he found humour in Celia’s current predicament.

Finally, he decided to rescue her, “Celia, don’t you know that I would do anything to keep you safe? The thought of Smith touching you was killing me. I had to do something to prevent him from harming you, so I switched shifts with Agent Jones so I could be near that restaurant tonight.”

With a soft child-like voice Celia asked, “You did?

“Yes, I did and I would do it again if it meant that I could be near you.”

Celia was overwhelmed, and extremely flattered by Agent Brown’s recent actions. She was at a loss for words, not knowing quite to say next. In all of her 132 years of existence during five versions of the Matrix, a male had never defended her honour.

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Celia had all but given up on love, convincing herself that it the stuff of fairytales, nothing more. After the dozen or so frogs that she had kissed over the years, Celia had come to the sad conclusion there was no such thing as a gallant prince charging up on his noble steed ready to whisk her away.

Her past experience with men had been a pathetic anthology of losers, abusers and freaks, which resulted in the hardening of her heart and turning her back on the possibility of ever being happy. However a couple of years ago a little glimmer of hope had been ignited the day Celia first cast her eyes on the new young agent recruit, Cadet Brown. In those days, he was still going through the academy and had a lot to learn. Despite his youthful inexperience, Brown’s enthusiasm and determination to do well saw him through his rigorous studies and training. Despite her better judgment, Celia found him to be absolutely, irrefutably, and irresistibly charming. But her fear of getting hurt won out and she had decided not to allow herself to get too infatuated with him.

What I most remember about those days is no matter how busy he was, Brown always went out of his way to say “Good morning” to me, Celia recollected. Her mind also recounted how the young resourceful cadet found out what she liked to eat for breakfast He would actually take the time to stop by Starbucks every morning to pick up her favourite latté and a blueberry scone.

“I think somebody likes you,” Lara had teased her one such morning after Brown’s special breakfast delivery, but Celia had found the very idea preposterous.

“Don’t be an airhead! He doesn’t like me and besides Brown is at least fifty-five years younger than me! I don’t have time for him anyway, he’s a child,” Celia had retorted.

“Hey don’t get mad at me! I’m only stating the obvious! And besides, you need someone to clear out the cobwebs collecting in your underwear!” Lara countered back.

“For your information, A) Brown is not my type. And B) I’m not wearing any underwear! It ruins the look of this skirt! Finally C) you’re a fine one to talk Miss “I- Haven’t- Had -Sex –Since-Acid-Washed-Jeans-Were In-Style!”

Lara rolled her eyes, and said, “Fine, be a bitch! What’s the matter with you anyway? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were on the rag!”

Celia had refused to respond to her friend. She knew Lara had been right. She did sense that Brown was attracted to her, but Celia had already put up her defences, the invisible force field of bitchiness that always warded off any would-be suitors, including Brown. After a few months of deflecting all of his amorous overtures, Brown finally got the message that Celia wasn’t interested in him so he quietly had moved on.

Brown, on the hand, had never understood what he could have possibly done to have brought on Celia’s “look but don’t touch” attitude. The woman was complex web of contradictions. Every pixel of what she was comprised exuded sex. In addition, Celia openly revelled in the power of her femininity, and knew perfectly well the effect that she had on men and yet there had always been an undercurrent of sub-zero temperatures.

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With her mind now firmly planted in the present, Celia recriminated herself for being such a fool. She knew now that Brown had never stopped caring for her, his protective behaviour this evening was concrete proof of that.

“I’m sorry, Brown,” she apologized.

“Sorry for what?”

“For being such a stupid, hard-headed stubborn jackass and for treating you so badly all those years ago.” Celia said quietly. Ashamed, she turned her head away and could not bring herself to face him.

Placing his index finder under her chin, Brown turned her head back to face him with gentle determination.

When he saw that the glistening tears that had formed in her eyes his heart went out to her, “Celia, whatever happened is in the past, it’s done, forgotten. All I care about is here and now. All I care about is you.”

Brown’s words moved her so much that Celia began to bawl like a child; she couldn’t help it. She turned away from him but found herself enveloped in his strong arms Giving in to the stress and misery she had been feeling all day because of her upcoming date with Smith, she wept freely and openly.

“That’s all right, Celia. Let it all out; you have needed a shoulder to cry on all day. You can use mine for however long you need,” Brown said softly, nuzzling her hair and enjoying the feel of her body in his arms. Eventually, Celia got a hold of herself and wiped her eyes with the handkerchief Brown held out to her. I must look a mess, she thought. No woman looks good after she has been crying her eyes out and Celia furtively stole a peek at Brown’s face. He did not look away from her; in fact, he looked directly at her. In his grey eyes, she saw compassion and empathy, not scorn.

He still cares for me, she realized suddenly as she stared into his warm grey eyes. After I rebuked his advances time after time all those years ago, he still saved a spot for me in his heart, no doubt wondering if or when I would come to my senses and see what was under my nose all this time. Well, it took long enough, but I have seen the error of my ways.

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It was nearly dawn when Celia checked her watch.

“Oh my God, look at the time!” she exclaimed. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such pleasure just talking to a man before, she thought and shook her head in disbelief. Brown stayed here the whole time and listened to me blather on about everything in my life, well almost everything. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t tell him about that dark time in my life; the whole reason I am distrustful of men to this day. I dare not risk Brown finding out, for if he did, I’m sure our relationship would end before it even had a chance to start. No, Brown must never find out about my past.

I have to admit that I was surprised that he was interested in what I had to say. He was so sweet and sensitive to my needs; he did not want to leave me alone while I was so upset. He stayed with me to the very end and from what I can tell, he enjoyed it, he actually enjoyed being with me and he stayed because he wanted to, not because he felt he had to. I have never had a man stay the night and not want sex as a payment for putting up with me. Celia blushed as her stomach growled and apologized.

“There is a Starbuck’s around the corner from here, Celia. How about a latté and a blueberry scone? I remember you used to like those.”

Celia smiled at him. “You remembered what I like after all these years?”

Brown nodded and smiled warmly. “I haven’t forgotten anything about you, Celia; I remember everything. Shall we go then?” he asked, extending his hand to her. Without hesitation, Celia took it and they walked to the coffee shop hand in hand.

My knight did not come to my rescue on a white horse and wearing gleaming armour, Celia thought, he came driving a shining BMW.