Chapter 2: Those Shoes

Wednesday afternoon arrived and Gwen's façade of calm reached its limit. Morgana's erratic departure the other morning had been followed by an equally sporadic appearance in the office. Her secret emergency had put a pile of work in Gwen's lap. In all honesty, Gwen didn't mind the work. It kept her thoughts from wandering. Until a certain email arrived shortly after lunch. After that, all bets were off. She closed shop, went shopping, and somehow found herself parked at the Marina.

Minutes ticked away as she lingered inside the cab of her ancient, but trusty F-150. After awhile, she started to get stares. "For Pete's sake," she mumbled under her breath.

The next thing she knew, she was on the dock and facing Goblin's Gold. The sailboat looked as if it had weathered plenty storms and would be around to face more. She hoped so because it was the home of her best friend.

"Permission to come aboard!"

Sun-bleached blonde curls greeted her first. Then came the bearded grin.

When did he grow a beard?

"Granted," Leon deMaris beckoned with a wave. He clutched a screwdriver in his right hand and God-knew-what in his left. He leaned forward to give her his shoulder to assist with her descent. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"You, too."

She couldn't help but assess him from head to his bare toes. The greasy t-shirt and cut-off jeans were a big change compared to the last time she saw him. Still an FBI man, he was decked out in a gray pinstripe suit that made heads turn as they walked through Times Square for a late afternoon lunch.

"What's up with the beard?" she asked.

He just grinned. "Those cushions over there are clean. I can't vouch for anything else."

She accepted his invitation. He pulled his pile of "treasures" closer to her and sat beside it on the deck in front of her. Working with his screwdriver, he continued with his task as he took his turn to give her a onceover.

"Elyan said you're still clinging to New York." He nodded. "I can see it. What's in the bag? I'm pretty sure you didn't pick up a six-pack at Nordstrom's."

"Shoes—"

"Oh, boy. Jimmy Choo's?" He lowered the screwdriver to his lap and gave her a hard look. "What's wrong?"

Feeling a little exposed, she just shrugged. "They're just shoes."

"Take it from a guy, and I'm speaking for all guys. Jimmy Choo doesn't make 'just shoes' and his shoes definitely don't look like 'just shoes' on you." He frowned. "And you don't throw down Jimmy Choo cash for the helluva it. What's up, Gwen?"

"I should have left the bag in the truck," she grumbled.

Leon laughed. "Yeah, right, and risk them being stolen. Stop stalling."

"I'm not," she said with a shrug. That's the thing with best friends. They got the subtext with only scraps of details. It was freaky. Plus, Gwen wasn't sure if she was ready to share. But Leon was starting to give her that look. The one both he and Elyan perfected at Quantico. Damn, there was no way out of this. Then again, maybe talking it out would help give her some perspective.

"Manwhore clients are the worst."

"Whoa!" he said, laughing.

"Excuse me, I meant manslut clients are the worst and to top it off his questionnaire is nothing but pages of gibberish! I would bet he's bedded 75 per cent of our database. Finding him a suitable mate that has not been tainted by his charms will be like finding a needle in a fucking haystack!"

By the time she finished, Leon's face was red and tears were streaming down his cheeks. His guffaws had subsided, but he made a show of clutching his sides. She rolled her eyes at him in response.

"Let me guess," he said, making an obvious attempt at abating his humor.

"Oh, I'm sure you already know."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I confess. Morgana told me, but…her version wasn't nearly as good as yours."

"Shut up, Leon."

That only produced a loud, unmanly squeak. Laughter bubbled from him that was so contagious that Gwen couldn't help but release a few chuckles. She supposed she went in hard. As they sobered, she hoped that the former profiler wouldn't look too closely at her tirade. She hadn't driven to the Marina for a diagnosis, or had she?

In the following silence, Leon's soft gaze held hers. After awhile, she began to squirm. She knew that look. She shoved her sunglasses back on and looked out across the water. It was so pleasant out there. The rolling waves created a gentle rocking motion. If it could just stay quiet like this, she would be okay.

Of course, that was not to be.

"Ten years isn't long enough, huh?"

She forced herself to remain still. "Long enough for what?"

"Um…" Leon began slowly. "To be away from this place. The memories…?"

"Memories of what?" She heard the slight edge in her voice, but it couldn't be helped. As far as she knew, no one had a clue about what transpired between her and Arthur that night. She needed it to stay that way.

"Nothing, Gwen," he said gently. "So, what are you going to do for your slut of a client?"

"I shouldn't have said that," she said quietly. "Please, don't tell Morgana."

"You know I wouldn't."

Gwen thought about Arthur's ridiculous answers to the questionnaire. The form was pretty basic, so it boggled her mind how his response was something she'd never seen before. She had a PhD in Psychology. She understood how the mind worked, and she had created that questionnaire to help uncover their clients' deepest desires. So far, it had helped Definitive Match have a ninety per cent success rate in matches! Of course, Arthur Pendragon would be the person to ruin that.

"I don't know what to do," she said with a sigh.

"What about the questionnaire?" Leon also had a degree in Psychology. While he hadn't helped Gwen create the form, he had reviewed it and marveled at its insightfulness and potential for accuracy.

"Oh, boy," she murmured.

"What?"

"It's not gonna work," she said.

"What do you mean it won't work?" he asked. "It's great."

"His answers…" Her voice trailed off as she waved her hand for emphasis. "I can't… And like I said, I'm concerned that our database will not be…um…unique to him. The key to the matches is that they get to know each other fresh, you know? If he's already pulled a hit and run, how is that gonna work?"

"That's not for you to worry about," her good friend told her. "You find the match and it'll work itself out."

"Don't throw my words back at me," she said with a faint smile.

"I will if they make sense." He picked up his screwdriver and started digging around again on the greasy mass of metal in his lap. "So, um, what about your prospects?"

"Mine?" She released a short, humorless laugh. "I'm not looking."

"You're too fantastic to be alone."

"I just moved back and I need to settle—"

"You grew up here. Could you stop with the bullshit, please?"

She kicked him and he laughed.

"I was working off Catalina the other weekend."

"I remember. You were nowhere to be found when my moving van and I showed up."

"Look, when I'm diving, I lose track of time. Give me a minute and I'll make up for that."

"Right. Okay. What about Catalina."

"Yeah," Leon said, "as I was saying about Catalina, I was diving and ran into this guy. He's a diver, too—"

"Diver? You're looking for buried treasure in the Pacific. Let's keep it real, okay? Is that what your new friend does, too?" she asked.

He glared at her for a half minute. "Yeah," he said with a hint of attitude. "Sure, I'm looking for artifacts, but diving requires skill."

"My apologies."

"I'll let you know when I accept them."

"Good grief," she mumbled, playfully rolling her eyes.

"Anyway, his name is Lance. He used to work in law enforcement, too. Homeland Security."

"So."

"So, meet him. See what happens."

"I don't know." She picked invisible lint from her skirt.

"Think about it."

"Fine." She gave him that much. If she hadn't, he would have gone into persistent-mode and that wouldn't have been good for either of them. Besides, she'd rather question him about his love life. "How are things with Morgana?"

He paused to give her big mysterious smile. "Complicated as usual, but good."

D*M

After spending half the night and most of the morning revealing his innermost secrets on that ridiculous questionnaire, Arthur desperately need to left off steam. He sent the SOS text seconds after he sent the email to Guinevere.

Guinevere.

Damn Morgana for not warning him. His last memory of Morgana's roommate was a mousy, awkward girl. Sure, she was kind of cute. Okay, he was bullshitting. Even back in undergrad, he found her attractive, but decidedly not his type. She was too good. He liked his girls bad. At parties, Guinevere sipped ginger ale. The girls he dated chugged Heineken. They wore clingy tops and short skirts.

Almost like the dress she wore Monday, he thought. Who knew she had a body like that? God, he thought.

But the way she looked at him. He pretended to be unaffected. Only a long, cold shower could relax him after he left.

Guinevere DeGrance had definitely evolved.

"Yo!" Percival's shout came with a basketball barreling toward Arthur's head. "Are you in the game or not?"

"I'm here."

"Yeah, right," Gwaine snickered right before he swooped in and stole the ball from him. He followed that maneuver with a clean lay-up. "Nothing but net."

Arthur had suggested the 3-man game to get his mind off women. Gwaine's gloating was enough to pull Arthur back in. Adrenaline propelled him forward. Grunts, sweat, and baskets happened all at once. The friends played hard. When it was over, there was no clear winner, but they were all proud of their individual effort.

"That was a good one," Percival said between gulps of water.

Arthur ran his towel over his drenched face. With the blood pumping through his veins, his mind felt clear for the first time in days. This had been a good idea. He felt invigorated.

"Did you finish the questionnaire?"

Then Percival's question sent Arthur's mood straight to hell.

"What questionnaire?" Gwaine asked. "Work prospect?"

"Not exactly," Percival answered. "It's a—"

"Could you not," Arthur cut in.

"What?" his cousin asked. "It's just Gwaine."

"Yeah, it's just me."

"He'd probably find out anyway."

"I'm right here," Gwaine said, chewing on a Powerbar. "Find out what?"

Arthur groaned. It was too late to stop it now. He just reclined on the cold court floor, closed his eyes, and waited. Percival wasted no time in explaining. It would be a few seconds before Gwaine doubled over in laughter.

The minutes ticked by. Nothing.

Despite the lump growing in his gut, Arthur chanced it and peeked at the two men. Both sat quietly with thoughtful expressions on their faces. Not a trace of humor to be found.

"Morgana is good at what she does," Gwaine acknowledged.

"Definitive Match has a solid reputation," Percival added.

Arthur rested on his forearms and just stared.

"Settling down is not a bad idea," Gwaine said. "One good woman who knows and loves you is better than several different ones who don't."

"I'm not saying I'm looking to settle down."

"Yeah, you did," Percival said. "That's exactly what you said."

Arthur stood and headed for the showers. The other two followed. Although he wanted commitment, the idea of it scared him shitless. What did he know about one good woman? How could he be sure he wouldn't fuck it up?

"Arthur."

He ignored Gwaine and stepped into his private shower cubicle. Being rich had percs. Everyone knew that. But one delicious perc was being able to design his firm's in-house gym and basketball court complete with showers and locker room exactly to his specifications.

"We know this is a sensitive subject," Percival said as soon as they were all dressing in the locker room.

"No…"

"I'm calling bullshit," Gwaine said. "Who's with me?"

"You're full of shit," Arthur said with a slight edge.

"When was the last time you had a girlfriend?"

"That's so high school." Arthur knew that sounded petty but he didn't care.

"Excuse me," Gwaine said, dripping with sarcasm, "a significant other. When you do bring a woman to events, it's a different one every time. Who can remember their names? I know I can't."

"You're not helping," Percival said.

"What? He needs to hear this."

Arthur glared at both of them. "Perhaps my personal life is off limits."

"What personal life?" Gwaine argued. "You fuck 'em and leave."

Percival groaned and Arthur was torn between punching Gwaine or banging his own head against the concrete wall.

"I don't mean to be crass," Gwaine said.

"You just have a way about you," Arthur muttered.

"But he also has a point," Percival said.

Arthur frowned. "Whose side are you on?"

"You have to ask," his cousin said. "Look, I'm behind you 100 per cent. Gwaine?"

"What? Of course, I am!" Gwaine slapped his back for emphasis. "A good woman will change your life."

"Nope," Percival said. "You will change your life because of her. Don't be scared of what's coming, cuz."

"I'm not scared." But his voice gave him away and his friends just smirked in response.

A last minute consultation had kept Merlin at the hospital later than usual, so he missed the basketball game. The friends decided to head to their favorite pub to meet him and catch him. They also hoped to get in on the turtle race.

Brennan's wasn't too packed upon their arrival. Their hangout on the Marina afforded them cold beer and guaranteed entertainment. The trio headed to their designated corner and found Merlin waiting for them with a pitcher of beer on the table and three empty mugs. His was half full.

"No fair starting without us," Arthur said, slapping his best friend's shoulder as he sat beside him.

"It's been that kind of day," Merlin said, looking as if he was trying to muster a half smile.

Arthur nodded. "Tell me about it."

"How was the game?"

"Brutal," Gwaine said. "But that's only part of it. Arthur's settling down."

"What?" Merlin sputtered. "You met someone. When? Why am I the last to know? What's her name? When did you meet?"

"Dammit, Gwaine," Arthur ground out. "It's not like that."

"He signed up with Morgana," Percival explained.

"Oh," Merlin said thoughtfully.

"What?" Arthur said, coming close to cursing. Too many people had an opinion about his life. He was about to lose his shit.

"Nothing. Just that—"

"Hey there." A feminine voice purred in Arthur's ear while a dainty hand seized his bicep in a firm grip. "Long time no see."

"Um…" He turned to face his captor as he decisively pried himself loose of her hold. Vibrant green eyes stared at him. Glossy pink lips pouted oh so delectably. She tossed her wavy russet hair for added allure. For once, none of this worked on Arthur. In fact, it kind of grossed him out. "Hi."

"Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"Busy with work." Aware that his best friends were watching, he tried to keep it light. Hell, not only were they watching, they were judging. He was judging himself, too. In this moment, he found himself lacking.

"You know what they say. All work and no play…"

He shrugged. "Look, um, my friends and I are…um…we're having a private celebration so if you don't mind…"

"Oh. Okay, sure." She leaned in and kissed his neck. Before she moved away, she whispered not too quietly, "Call me when you get bored with work."

The guys watched her saunter away, but Arthur kept his gaze trained on the door. He felt like a dick. There was no other word for it. Had he always been that easy?

"He didn't even have to do anything," Gwaine said.

"Just sit down." Percival said.

"Flex," Merlin added. "I think he flexed a little when he poured his beer."

"Shut up."

They all laughed at that. Gwaine and Percival left to put their bid in on the turtle race. Merlin punched his shoulder.

"So?"

"Not you, too."

Merlin shook his head. "No one's laughing at you. Lighten up."

"Yeah, well." He let the words hang. How could he confess that using his sister's dating service felt strange? Then again, Morgana always stressed that her agency was more than a dating service. Her clients came for more than temporary satisfaction. Yet, temporary was all that Arthur understood.

The bell at the door tinkered. Arthur barely heard it over the commotion of the turtle competition. Yet, somehow, he sensed that he would have known to look anyway.

His matchmaker had entered. Dark brown curls framed her tawny heart shaped faced. Her red and white sundress was this short of scandalous. The halter top opened just enough to tease. He was seconds from crossing over to her when he noticed that she wasn't alone. Morgana's friend, Leon, led them to the bar. After she settled on the stool, the tall blonde left. Arthur didn't consider his choices. He strode right over.

"So that's your type. Blonde. Tall. Grungy looking."

Arthur only dimly registered the shock on her face. He was too busy getting a better look at her now that he was close. She looked amazing. The splatters of red were perfect against her cinnamon complexion. He knew he was obvious but he couldn't stop his gaze from trailing down. With her sitting on the stool, the dress stopped mid thigh and revealed a pair of nicely toned legs. But those shoes! The way the straps curved around her ankles was enticing. Candy apple red-tipped toes peeked from the criss cross of other straps and Arthur felt an intense, sudden reaction. Like a memory was trying to break through, but he couldn't exactly place it.

"Are you finished?"

"What?" He met her angry brown eyes with cool confidence.

"You're not serious at all."

"About?"

She just glared at him in response.

Then it hit him. "Oh, that!"

"Yes," she said. "That. Like everything else. It's just a…what? A conquest?"

"Conquest?" he repeated, dumbfounded. "No."

"Yes."

"It isn't—"

"That's not what Definitive Match is about," she said quietly, but firmly. "We match serious clients. You can play your games elsewhere."

"It's not a game—"

Her withering look cut him to the quick. Then Leon reappeared.

"Sorry about that, but I had to take that call. Oh, hey, Arthur."

"Hi, Leon—"

"Let's go," Guinevere said, sliding from the stool. "The stuffy air in here is making me sick."

Leon looked between the two and slowly nodded. "Okay." He nodded to Arthur. "See you around."

Arthur watched them exit. That had gone downhill fast. Before he could formulate a plan or decide if he wanted to, a hard slap on his upper back jolted him.

"That was a first, huh." Gwaine chuckled and walked off.

True, Arthur thought. He couldn't remember a woman ever walking away from him. He definitely did not like the way it made him feel. Now he had to decide what to do about it—if anything.

[A/N: To registered FF members and guests, THANK YOU! Your response was amazing and you all rock! Again, thank you for checking out the story, following, favoriting, reading, and reviewing. Your comments do things for the muse that you couldn't imagine. Thanks to Miss Lily1986, this story will take a slight twist than I had originally planned. That will show up in Chapter 3. Well, things are off to a rocky little start and Arthur's "instincts" may have put him out to pasture with Gwen. Think she'll give him a second chance? Think Leon will get to work his matchmaking powers on her? Oh, so many questions! Lol I look forward to hearing from you. Thanks again for reading!]