Chapter 1: Desperado

Arthur Pendragon had sworn never again. No more clubs. No more pick ups. No more waking up in a stranger's bed. Too bad he hadn't lived up to that promise.

A faint tingling in his left arm alerted him to the sleeping body that had captured his appendage. Only a distant murmuring sounded from the nude blonde as he carefully tugged his arm free of her slender frame. Lights from street lamps filtered through the uncovered windows and revealed a sparse bedroom and a large king size bed with red silk sheets that barely covered either of them. Arthur realized the décor was similar to other bedrooms from other late night adventures.

Eyes wide, Arthur held his breath and watched his companion, silently hoping that Vivian, Elena, Marigold—whatever her name was—would remain asleep and he could make his escape without any awkward questions or requests.

This is stupid, he thought, as he slid from the bed and landed on his knees. This game wasn't new to him. He kept his gaze trained on her, whoever she was, while he reached around for his boxer briefs, jeans, socks, and shoes. With the items in hand, he rose to his feet and made a hasty retreat to the living room where he found his shirt, belt, and phone.

Practice and expertise had him dressed and out of the apartment in under three minutes. Little traffic greeted him on Wilshire. The usually busy boulevard had a half-mile of condo high-rises that stretched from Westwood to Beverly Hills. In the early hours before daybreak, Arthur appreciated the quiet. Behind the steering wheel of his black Koenigsegg CCX, he used the smooth drive home to Malibu to question his life choices.

"I'm seriously fucking up," he muttered under his breath.

One by one, all of his friends were starting to settle down. His best friend, Merlin, had lost his shit over a spiritualist in West Hollywood. He hardly ever saw him anymore. Most of their conversations were prefaced with "Freya said this…" or "You wouldn't believe what Freya did…" It was enough to make Arthur gag. Even Gwaine had shacked up with an attorney, of all professions! Zoey Andata was model-hot, but on paper, she seemed way too complicated for his leisurely friend. Yet the two of them were two years strong. Then there was his cousin Percival—

As if on cue, the distinctive ringtone for "We Are the Champions" sounded from his car's speakers. Percival's name appeared on the dash. What was the newlywed doing up at this hour? Arthur wondered.

He pushed the appropriate Bluetooth button and answered the call.

"Hey?"

"Hey, cuz!"

"Everything alright?" Arthur asked. Percival sounded…giddy. At this hour, he couldn't imagine him and his bride trolling bars. But anything was possible. Maybe they weren't as disgustingly happy as everyone thought?

"It's perfect! Where are you?"

"On the 10 headed for PCH. Why? Do you need a ride?"

"No! I'm home, man," Percival said, laughing.

"Is Laryn there?" Arthur asked. He merged onto Pacific Coast Highway. As with most of his drive, the traffic continued to be light. Although he was only minutes from home and the promise of a hot shower, he considered turning around and heading over to his cousin's condo. Percival's penchant for late night prank calls had ended during their second quarter of grad school. It wasn't like him to be this perky so late at night unless alcohol was the culprit.

"Yeah, she's here! Say hello, Lary!"

"Hey, Arthur!" came the faint distinct Southern accent from the background. Then Percival's deeper tone returned. "She's fantastic! She's amazing! I've been calling you for hours, man. Where were you? Or should I ask?"

"Never mind that. What's going on? Are you in trouble?"

"Hell no! We're having a baby!"

Arthur lax grip on the steering wheel switched to an ironclad hold. "You're what?"

"We found out a while ago, but we waited a few weeks to tell everyone—"

"Are you drunk?"

Percival laughed. "Maybe a little. Hey! Did you hear me? There's going to be a little Pendragon in a few months. I hope you're ready. We want you to be the godfather. Talk to you later, cuz!"

"Godfather? Wait!"

But Arthur was too late. Percival was gone and only dead air heard his plaintive cry.

Godfather? To a baby? No, wait. Percival a father? So of the Fantastic Four, Arthur was the only sorry SOB to still be alone? To still find himself crawling out of a stranger's bed in the dead of night? To still feel hopeless and pathetic? Damn. He always thought Gwaine would be the last to settle down. Not him.

By the time he reached his Malibu beachside hideaway, he was a sorrowful mess. He trudged inside, headed straight for the shower, and hoped the steady stream of hot water would wash away the disappointment that he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge. As he crawled into bed, he listened to the rolling waves of the Pacific for a long time before slumber claimed him.

"ARTHUR!"

"No," he grumbled into his pillow. He buried his face below the covers, hoping the obnoxious bellow of his sister was only a bad dream.

The following silence gave him comfort. He dozed back off. In the back of his mind, he heard the faint hum of his snore. The familiar tune lulled him back to sleep.

Then suddenly water dribbled on the back of his head. Cold air hit his bare backside. He rose up on his forearms in outrage.

"MORGANA!"

"Rise and shine, playboy." She giggled and used his belt to swat his rear. "Hurry up! Get dressed."

"Get out."

"Oh, I've seen it before," she said, while backing up to the door.

"We were three!"

Arthur peered over his pillow. Her smile looked dangerous, but her attire was the usual for their weekly Sunday morning run on the beach. He had half a mind to beg out of it, but knowing his sister, no amount of begging would turn him loose. He was hers at least until noon. That was their deal. It had always been that way.

"Do I have to dress you?" She took a step forward.

"No!" He waved toward the door. "Go. I'll meet you downstairs."

"You have three minutes and I'm being generous. I know you can do it in two."

"Out with you!"

Her evil cackle greeted him when he sauntered into his kitchen minutes later. Padding in sock-covered feet across the tile floor, he cradled his Nikes in the crook of his arm as he headed straight to the coffeemaker. With all the bright light filtering into the room, including his sister's wicked grin, caffeine would be the only thing to save him.

But Morgana was quick. "No coffee! Water, yes. Juice, okay. Coffee, no. Not before a run. You'll puke your guts out and that's no fun at all."

"What's fun about a run anyway?"

She pulled two bottles of pomegranate juice from the fridge and tossed one at him. "It keeps that gorgeous bod of yours in check."

"Football keeps me in check and my weight room."

"That weight room cannot compare with the cries of seagulls flying overhead or the challenge of sand beneath your feet. Stop being a baby and put your shoes on."

She had that no nonsense look about her so he knew better than to put up a fuss. A few minutes later, they were on the sand and his beach house was becoming a speck behind them.

"Where were you last night?" she asked.

"Out."

"Oh."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What does that mean? You know you sound like Father when you do that?"

"Do not."

"Do so," he muttered.

Their run slowed to a stop. Both went through their usual stretches until they ended sitting side-by-side on the sand, facing the rolling surf of the Pacific.

"Percival has news—"

"I heard."

"You don't have to be such an ass about it," she snapped, nudging his side with her elbow. "It's good news. He and Laryn are excited. You would know that if you hadn't been out humping around."

The burn ignited in his throat and made a slow ascent to cover his face. Two years ago, he would have laughed off her words, but today, they shamed him.

"What? No witty comeback?"

He shrugged. He had no defense. In all honesty, he was tired of the chase. A different girl and a different bed every other night had lost its glitter and charm ages ago, but he was too stubborn to admit it. Hell, he was too much his father's son.

"Nope," he mumbled.

"So, you'll let me help you now?"

"Huh?" He turned his gaze from the endless blue of the ocean to stare at his sister. Although they had different mothers, he never considered her as anything less than his full blood. "What are you rambling on about?"

"Your perfect match is out there—"

"Oh… No. Whoa, Morga—"

"Don't be such a baby," she said. She stood and dusted the sand from her rear. Then she extended her hand to him. He accepted and once they were both standing, she stared up at him and added, "You can't keep running. You're not like, Father."

"He's on wife no. 6."

"And my mom is on honeymoon with hubby no. 4. Between the two of them, I should be a train wreck, but I'm not. Neither are you."

They headed back home at a slower pace. In the quiet, Arthur mulled over Morgana's offer. Long-term romantic entanglements had never been his forte. He couldn't remember the last time he had a steady significant other. For business functions, he usually went stag. But lately, the aloneness was starting to bother him. He didn't want to be like his father. Uther Pendragon tumbled from one woman to the next. If Arthur didn't do something quick, he was headed in that direction. Shit, he was already there.

"How does it work? I fill out a questionnaire and a computer pops out my soulmate?"

"Um…no. Come by the office on Monday and you'll find out."

Guinevere DeGrance reminded herself that she viewed change as a positive. Good things happened from change. Closing the Manhattan office of Definitive Match to share matchmaking duties with Morgana in Los Angeles had been wise. It wasn't like she was giving up or running away. New York was way too expensive and consolidating the business was a smart move for both of them. Believing in the power of love did not mean that they weren't savvy entrepreneurs. Still, the bump-and-go drive on the 405 had her missing the ride on the train something fierce.

"Hey, it's not the Empire State Building, but that view can't be that bad."

Gwen smiled as she turned from the window to face her brother's worried frown. "I'm fine, Elyan."

"You could have fooled me." He sat behind her desk, transferring her PC files to the new iMac that the office used. She sat across from him on the guest chair and watched in wonder as his fingers flew across the keyboard. "Manhattan Beach is a great location."

"I know. Lots of shops and restaurants. It's cute."

"Cute," he snickered. "You hate it. Admit it."

"I don't. It's just different."

"My California born sister is a New Yorker. Never thought I'd see the day."

"You make it sound bad." She sighed. "The 405 was hell this morning. I just have to get used to it again is all."

"Okay." His tone confessed that he wasn't convinced, but the gentleness in his eyes conveyed that he would let the subject drop. For now. "You're all set."

He stood and began boxing up her desktop. She felt a twinge go through her. "You don't have to do that. You'll be late for work."

"No problem. I'm almost done. Besides, it's your last box. You want to be ready when your lovelorn come knocking. Boxes everywhere will freak them out."

"I love how you have jokes." She handed him his jacket. He pulled it on and smiled. "They're not lovelorn. They just require a little assistance."

"Okay." He picked up the box and headed for the office door. "I'll see you later."

"I thought maybe we'd have lunch today."

He shook his head. "Can't. I got a text this morning. I'm needed in the Chicago field office."

"The never ending travels of an FBI agent," she said, unable to keep the pride from her voice.

He kissed her forehead. "It really is good to have you back home. I'll call you later."

Gwen settled in. She arranged the plants on her windowsill just so and adjusted the framed photos on the wall. The office space had to give off a certain air. It was important that prospective clients felt comfortable and safe when they approached her for help. Love wasn't easy and admitting that one required assistance often came with difficulty. Regardless of her locale, she firmly believed in putting her guests at ease. The more comfortable they were with her, the easier it was for her to read them and to understand the things that were unsaid that mattered just as much.

She was reviewing the Los Angeles database when she heard the outer door open. Morgana's voice and a deeper, masculine tone responded.

"I'm sorry!" Morgana said, sounding exasperated. "I just got the call."

"Later—"

"No, you come back here!" Morgana said. "Come on. Wait here. Don't you dare move."

Gwen was not an eavesdropper, but she couldn't help it in this case. She selected a random playlist on iTunes in an attempt to drown out the conversation. Despite Morgana's sometimes boisterous persona, her friend and business partner had a good heart. Deep down. A moment later, Gwen's door opened and Morgana came inside.

"Sorry for barging in. Are you settled in okay?" The brunette looked around with a wide smile. "The boxes are gone and so is your PC. Did I miss Elyan?"

"By a half hour." Gwen nodded toward the door. "Is everything okay?"

Morgana rolled her eyes. "Just a big baby throwing a tantrum. I probably shouldn't have said that in light of the favor I'm about to ask."

"Favor?"

"That big baby is a potential client who also happens to be my brother—"

"Arthur?" Gwen fought the urge to frown. "He's out there?"

"Yes, he's ridiculous. We have to help him."

"We?" Gwen felt her cheeks hurt from the force of the smile. "What do you mean 'we'?"

"Actually, I mean…you. Please, Gwen. I hate to ask, but I have to go."

"Why! No, don't go!"

"I have to. It'll be worth it. You'll see," she said, backing toward the door.

Gwen stood. "Then have Arthur come back when you're available."

"He needs help now! Besides, he wouldn't come back. I know him. If he leaves now, he'd never come back." Then Morgana rushed toward her and took her hand. "Please, I'll owe you big for this. Arthur is in a strange place right now, and if anyone needs our services, it's him."

"But he's your brother—"

"Which makes it better that he's your client than mine." Morgana pulled her into a brief tight hug and then was at the door. "Thanks, Gwen!"

Gwen stood stammering and searching for better words of protest, but she was too late. The door opened again and Morgana had ushered Arthur inside and was gone before either of them could react.

"Hi," Arthur said. He stood just inside the door, looking like a cross between a rugged cowboy and a GQ model. He was dressed in a black button down shirt that hung loosely from his torso yet somehow hugged his broad chest and shoulders. His dark jeans were snug on his thighs and were wide enough at the bottom that the tips of his shiny cowboy boots peeked through. His saunter to the guest chair was everything Gwen remembered.

Just as those sapphire blue eyes gave her the once over, Don Henley's voice came loudly from the speakers with…

'Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?

Come down from your fences, open the gate…'

Gwen bit back a giggle as she scrambled to pause the music.

"Eagles fan?"

She nodded. "Have a seat."

She waited until he took possession of the chair across from her before she sought refuge in the leather throne on wheels behind the protection of her desk. Protection? She silently scolded herself at the thought. Arthur Pendragon would never have to reduce himself to attacking any woman. Not even her, not that he would remember. As she narrowed her eyes at him and really assessed the toll of a decade on him, she wondered if he remembered that night ten years ago.

"Probably not," she murmured under her breath.

"Excuse me?" he said, leaning forward just a bit. "I didn't catch that."

"I'm Gwe—"

"Guinevere," he said. "I know who you are. You're Morgana's partner. You were her roommate during undergrad. I remember you."

"Really?" She picked up a pencil and notepad and began to doodle. She had to do something, anything to keep her hands busy and her mouth from getting away from her. "So how can I help you today?"

"Me? Help me?" he asked, appearing suddenly flustered. He crossed his left leg over his right knee. His right fingers drummed a beat on his ankle. "Um…"

"There's no need to be nervous."

"I'm not nervous." He fixed her with a hard stare that nearly took her breath away.

"Okay." Gwen shrugged. "Tell me what you're looking for in a woman."

"Excuse me?"

The indignation in his voice surprised her. In response, she transformed into her professional matchmaker mode and left the hurt, disappointed twenty-two year old Gwen in the past.

"Definitive Match specializes in assisting our clients in finding that special someone. Love is not always easy, but we believe that it is possible and that perfect person is out there for you."

"Have you found yours?"

She gave him a faint smile and a shrug. "What are you looking for in a relationship?"

The faint twitch at his mouth alerted her that her non-answer didn't go unnoticed. He uncrossed his legs and leaned back against the chair. "I want what everyone wants, I guess. Someone who understand me."

"You could be more specific," she said, preparing to jot down notes. "When you think of your future, whom do you see yourself with?"

"I-I don't know."

"Okay, how about starting with the basics?" Gwen suggested.

"Basics?" Arthur frowned.

"Looks…profession, I suppose. Blonde, brunette, redhead? White, black, Asian, or Latin?"

"None of that matters," he said. His frown had deepened. "That sort of thing doesn't matter to me."

"Okay." Gwen noted that and continued. "What about height, weight, or build?"

"What? I don't care. I like women." He made the shape of an hourglass with his hands.

"So you prefer women with curves?"

"Fine, I guess." He rubbed a hand over his face. "You know this is nuts."

"No, it isn't. You're talking—"

"So, what do you like?"

She paused her note taking to look at him. "Excuse me?"

"Blonde, brunette, or redhead? What do you like?" he asked, a smirk on his full lips. "Do you prefer your men muscular, athletic, chubby, or skinny?"

Gwen was taken aback for a moment. It pained her to admit it, but the smirk was actually kind of sexy in an arrogant kind of way. However, she couldn't let him take control. This was her arena. He might be the bull, but she was the matador.

"What I like isn't up for discussion," she said with a bright smile that seemed to make him blush. "Are you old-fashioned?"

"Huh?"

She could tell the question perplexed him so she opted for a different approach. "When it comes to relationships, do you prefer to be the aggressor? Do you like to pursue?"

That questioned produced a wide, devilish grin. "Yes."

Gwen resisted the urge to fan herself and looked toward the window for relief. From her position, she could see parts of the beach. Kids played in the sand. Older couples strolled hand in hand. The images were enough to cool her libido. Just a bit.

"Okay, so what do you like to do for fun?"

"Sports."

"Which ones?" she asked, relieved that he didn't say sex.

"Football, basketball, soccer, hockey, skiing, skateboarding… I could go on."

"I get the idea." She wrote quickly. "Is this something you'd like to do with your mate?"

"I guess."

The doubt in his voice surprised. She stopped writing to look at him. "Did you do these things in your last relationship?"

"I can't remember," he said quietly. "It's been awhile."

"Would you like to?"

He looked down at where his hands rested on his lap. Gwen tried to read his expression, but couldn't. The teasing flirtatious man was gone. He had become contemplative and maybe a little sad.

When he looked at her again, he had a wan smile on his face. "Yes, I would. I like music, too, and traveling. When it comes to a relationship, I do want someone who understands me. The name and the reputation makes it hard sometimes, you know?"

Gwen nodded. The Pendragon name meant money and power to many people. Morgana had had her fair share of glory seekers and gold diggers, so Gwen could only imagine the disappointments Arthur had faced. Maybe she had been too hard on him? Maybe.

"I understand. Your prospects will be vetted. I can assure you."

"Prospects, as in plural?"

She nodded again. "Yes, you do have a perfect, definitive match, but possibilities are to be explored."

He frowned. "How many?"

"Not that many," she snapped.

His eyes widened at her quick retort and she pressed her hand to her mouth. She hadn't meant for that to come out.

"Um…I have a brief questionnaire for you to complete and you can email it back to me. Then I'll see if any of our clientele will suit you."

Gwen stood and Arthur slowly did the same. He gave her a strange look. "So that's it?"

"Yes, we're done."

"What if she doesn't suit me?" he asked. "Will I have to come back and figure out a different strategy or something?"

"Maybe, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." She handed him her card. "My email is listed here. If you need anything, drop me a line. I'll send you the questionnaire—"

"Here's my card." He pulled his from his wallet. As he placed it on the palm of her hand, their fingers touched. He drew in a deep breath and snatched his hand back. "Good seeing you again, Guinevere."

"You too, Arthur."

Gwen stood until he left. When the door shut behind him, she slumped into her chair and exhaled. Far too many years had passed for him to have this affect on her. On the bright side, she mentally patted herself on the back for her calm display of her professionalism. She'd wasted four years of undergrad of being hopelessly infatuated with that blonde Adonis only to lose her virginity to him at a stupid graduation party. From his demeanor, it was obvious that the only thing he remembered about those four years was that she roomed with his sister. She supposed fortune was on her side that he had no recollection of her awkward fumbling or whispered confessions. Gwen DeGrance was just one of many notches on the belt of Arthur Pendragon.

Yet, he called her Guinevere and that's the name he'd always used for her although everyone else called her Gwen. Even on that night, so long ago.

Gwen sighed. "Snap out of it, girlfriend."

She straightened in her chair and clicked the mouse to open the database of possibilities for Mr. Pendragon. She then clicked play on her playlist and allowed The Eagles to serenade her wistfulness away.

[Author's Note: Thank you for checking out this story. The idea came from a writing prompt, and I couldn't resist. If you read Desperate Measures and Destined for Greatness, YES, new chapters are coming. I had to get this out of my system first. Now that it's out, Desperate Measures is getting my attention and then DfG. Yup, they're back on rotation. Thanks for bearing with me. I appreciate it. I also appreciate your thoughts on this story so don't be shy. Don't let the set-up fool you. This IS an Arwen fic!]