Mister Match (The Match Series Book 1) (13 page)

“Of course.” Lisa wasn’t stupid—of course she could see the value of a confidentiality agreement. Still, it felt, as Adam had put it, a bit bloodless.

But this was a business arrangement, nothing more, nothing less. It was good for her to be reminded of that fact.

“You don’t have to read over everything now, if you don’t want to,” Adam was saying. “As long as you just get them back to me, signed, by next Friday, when we head to Houston, that should be fine.”

But she was already busy skimming the top page, a typed letter from Adam on Mister-Match.com letterhead, formally inviting her to work for the company and outlining the terms of their agreement, including her hours and pay.

She tried not to let her eyes bug out of her head. “Um, this is even more than we discussed, the other day.” A lot more.

“I put in some extra for your massage table and any supplies you might need.”

She stared at him. “I said a massage table would be five hundred
dollars. I think this has an extra zero.”

He shrugged. “I figured you could get a really good one, and then there’s an allowance for sheets, oils or whatever you use, towels. You’ll probably need a carrying case of some kind. You might have to pay someone at the airport or hotel to help out with transporting your gear. Plus, of course, your per diem for the actual Dream Date weekends, multiplied by four weeks. I just wanted to make sure you’re covered for whatever you need.”

With the amount he’d provided her, she could buy out Origins and Sephora to stock a fledgling freelance massage business. “The hotels where we’ll stay might be able to provide the linens we’d need,” she pointed out, trying not to shriek with giddiness at her good fortune.

“Still, better safe than sorry,” Adam pointed out. “You probably want to get nice ones.”

“Sure.” With the amount he was offering her, she could buy thousand-thread-count organic-cotton sateen sheets hand-stitched by princesses. She bobbed her head, trying to act blasé when really what she wanted to do was jump up and do a dance around the table. And then plant a big one right on Adam’s pretty mouth. And then go throw up her breakfast, because what if all of this fell through, and she was rudely awakened from this dream? “Sounds good.”

He squinted slightly as he watched her. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “It all just seems a little too good to be true, Adam. Way too good to be true, to be perfectly honest. I’ve been living very carefully for a while now, financially and otherwise, and then you come along and make this crazy proposal and sign over a big fat check to me, and suddenly my photograph is all over the Internet, and there’s paparazzi around—” She stopped. “Actually, that’s something I’ve been meaning to bring up.”

“What’s that?”

She drummed her fingers on the papers he’d given her. “This might not even be necessary. I mean, you’re only doing this because you lied to that Kiki whatever-her-name-is about us, and you don’t want the media to find out. Right? But aside from those photographers at the restaurant the other day...” She shook her head. “I haven’t seen any others. No one’s called me to ask for an interview, or harassed me at my apartment door. I mean, maybe the whole thing has already blown over. Or maybe it was a non-issue from the start.
Access Austin
is just a local show, after all. Maybe it just wasn’t that big of a deal that the interviewer suggested you’re a playboy, or whatever story she was spinning.”

Adam was watching her. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but that little dimple was out. Lisa found herself focusing on it. She loved the way he was able to smile with just his eyes and that adorable dimple.

“Look over there,” he said, pointing to his right.

Lisa followed the direction of his fingers, and saw tables, a few other customers, some potted bamboo palms.

“What am I looking at?”

“Look between those two plants,” Adam said. “And don’t forget to smile.”

Lisa frowned and leaned forward for a moment, peering at the far side of the room, and then she sat up again. “Oh.”

There was a skinny young woman holding a camera, wearing a backwards-facing ball cap. Lisa hadn’t noticed her, but there she was, just beyond the potted palms, her camera’s bulbous lens poking through the leaves. It was trained squarely on Adam and Lisa.

Instantly, Lisa smiled. “How the hell did I miss that?” she asked through her teeth.

Adam chuckled. “They’re pretty sneaky. I guess it’s part of their job description. And I was just kidding about smiling. You can act natural. Although, whatever photos that woman shoots are probably going to end up on the Web with a headline about how I’m forcing you to sign a prenup, or something.”

“What?” Lisa was still trying to process the fact that they were being photographed, and she hadn’t even noticed. Had she been photographed all weekend, and she’d just been oblivious?

“The papers.” Adam was watching her with a mixture of humor and sympathy in his eyes. “It’s a lot to take in, I know. I’ve been living with it for a while now, and I’m still not used to it, myself.”

“I feel like I’m dreaming,” Lisa said, and took a fortifying gulp of orange juice.

Adam’s answering smile was warm and full of good-humored understanding. “Well, I think we should both just try to enjoy the dream.”

“That would be nice,” she said, “except I’m not sure whether all of this feels good or just way too damn scary.”

He nodded. “Well, my advice, not that you asked for it, is to have fun with it. And to trust me. This whole thing might have started because of my interview the other day, but the truth is, I’m glad it did.”

She eyed him skeptically. “You are?”

“I am. I only want the best for my business, and I think you’re the best at what you do.” He sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together. “I think the Dream Date went so well yesterday in large part because of you. Your work. The relaxation you and Willow created for Doug and Deb, right at the beginning of the day—it was exactly what they needed. I’d be crazy not to want you working with me, regardless of our supposed engagement.” He nodded at the papers that still lay on the table between them. “And if I can afford to make you an offer you can’t turn down, and to make sure you can get the supplies you need, well... Seems pretty simple to me.”

Lisa swallowed the bite of eggs she’d been chewing and shook her head. “Okay. I’ve never known anyone who operates like you, but okay.”

“Good.” He grinned at her. “Now. On to more important things. There’s a place in Houston I really want to try next weekend. A restaurant. I think you’d love it. It’s down-home Cajun food.”

“Cajun?” she repeated, switching gears. Apparently planning which restaurants they’d hit during the next Dream Date weekend was more important to Adam than tossing around enough money for a down payment on a house, or lying to the world that he was going to marry a woman he’d only just met, and only kissed twice.

She wasn’t sure whether that was a bad thing or a good thing—whether it meant he was shallow, or that he had his priorities in the right place. But it looked as if she would have a chance to find out exactly which it was, over the course of the next few weeks.

Chapter
14

____________________________________

I
nstead of meeting up the next afternoon for happy hour at Diego’s Dive Bar, Willow convinced Lisa to ride with her after work to Clare’s apartment. The plan was to check out Lisa’s next matches from Mister-Match.com, whom Clare had been messaging with all weekend. Since the date with Reese hadn’t gone as well as they had hoped, Willow and Clare had decided to get Lisa’s input on which man she wanted to meet next.

The only problem was, Lisa didn’t care who they’d picked out for her. If she were honest with herself and her friends, she didn’t want to go on a date with anyone except Adam Match.

“I really need to fix my place up,” she said a bit wistfully, as she walked into Clare’s living room. “I wish my apartment looked more like yours.”

“Thanks.” Clare, looking dramatic in a silk kimono that was the deep purple of an eggplant, pointed toward the couch. “Have a seat. And you’re more than welcome to bite my style,” she breezed, heading toward the kitchen. “I can even tell you which color paint I got at Home Depot, if you want.”

The room, painted a deep persimmon, was currently glowing in the late-afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. Clare had decorated the walls with paintings and framed photographs, most of them done by friends and local artists. Every time Lisa came over, she felt a twinge of envy that she’d never taken the time to make her own apartment more attractive or comfortable. She’d always blamed it on being strapped for cash, but if all it took was fifty bucks for a can of paint and a few rollers to transform a room into a stylish, personalized space, maybe her lack of effort was actually something more than that—something deeper.

Clare returned from the kitchen with three blue-stemmed wine glasses, set them down on the coffee table, untied and retied her kimono, and clapped her hands. “Okay, I’ll go grab my computer and we’ll get started. Will, could you pour us some of that wine?”

“Glad to.” Willow sat down at one end of the couch and picked up the bottle opener.

“Clare, why are you all decked out?” Lisa asked idly as she riffled through the magazines on the coffee table. “I didn’t realize we were supposed to wear our silky loungewear.”

“It’s all about setting the mood, my dear,” Clare said over her shoulder, and disappeared down the hall.

Willow inspected the bottle of wine Clare had left on the coffee table. “Mmm. Big Mountain Zin. Very appropriate.”

“How so?” Returning to the room, Clare plunked her laptop onto a bare spot on the table.

Willow wrestled with the winged bottle opener, twisting its corkscrew down into the cork. “Since dating can be like climbing a mountain.” With a small grunt, she tugged the cork out and held it up triumphantly. “You know, difficult and tiring, but ultimately worth it.”

Clare shrugged and winked. “I just liked the bottle.” She gathered magazines and books into a quick, messy pile next to the couch, slapped the couch cushions as a perfunctory plumping, and went back into the kitchen.

Lisa dropped onto the spot Clare had just cleared. “I don’t really think mountain climbing is worth it. Exerting yourself to that extent, going all that way, just to feel like you’ve conquered something?” She shook her head. “That’s such a masculine ideal. Totally not the way I approach life.”

“Oh, now,” Clare said mildly, “it’s just a bottle of wine. No need to overanalyze everything.” She returned to the room with a circle of goat cheese, a knife and a tube of crackers on a wooden cutting board. “And may I just say, I’m so glad you agreed to do this, this evening. Not that it was optional. But I think it’s wonderful that you’re so open to exploring new connections.”

Instantly, an image of Adam, his face warm with laughter, zinged into Lisa’s mind. She sucked in a breath. “Let’s just get started, okay?”

“Sure.” Clare opened the lid of her laptop and rubbed her hands together. “Time to check out the goods.”

Willow leaned in. “Do you think it’s wise to talk about these men like they’re, I don’t know, flour, or canned green beans or something? I mean, Lisa’s going to be dating them, not buying them and eating them.”

“Buying and eating them is exactly what she’s going to do. And flour or green beans?” Clare shook her head at the ceiling. “No, no, no. These men aren’t anything so practical as that. They’re dark chocolate, or beer, or a great bottle of Prosecco. Something delicious, that’s all about pleasure.”

“All about pleasure?” Lisa smiled, in spite of herself. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah,” Clare said approvingly. “Something you can count on to make you feel great. That’s the way to look at men. And that’s a great way to choose a good one, one that’s going to be a gift that keeps on giving.”

Lisa frowned. “How do I know which men are going to be gifts that keep on giving?”

“You don’t.” Clare smiled at her. “I do. That’s why I’m here to help.”

“And me,” Willow interjected. “Whoever you choose, tonight, I’m going to do full synastry and composite charts for you two, to make sure you’re a great match.”

“Synastry and composite charts?” Lisa repeated, mystified.

Willow waved a hand. “Astrology terms. Don’t worry about it. Just focus on who catches your interest the most.”

“Oh. Okay.” Lisa’s stomach was actually tight, and her chest felt fluttery with anticipation as Clare logged in to her profile on Mister-Match.com.

“So I was messaging with three guys this weekend,” Clare was saying. “And I think they’re all good—”

“Wait, three guys?” Lisa frowned. “I thought Willow said we were just choosing between two.”

“I said a couple,” Willow said. At Clare’s eye roll, she blinked. “What? Can’t ‘a couple’ mean three?”

Clare laughed. “‘A couple’ means two, obviously. ‘A few’ could mean three. ‘Several’ could mean three. But not ‘a couple.’”

Lisa sat back, shaking her head. “You know what, this is a stupid idea. I don’t want to do it.”

“Oh, stop,” Clare commanded. She clicked on the pulsing heart at the top of the screen, next to the words
NEW MESSAGES!
Three thumbnail photos popped up on the page.

“So, this first guy’s name is Wyatt.” She glanced at Lisa as she clicked on his message thread. “I like this one. He’s funny. And I’ve always liked the name Wyatt.”

“That’s definitely an important quality in a potential date,” Lisa deadpanned. “That he be named Wyatt.”

Clare cut her a look. “Remember how you reacted to the name Reese? And you turned out to be kind of right about him, right? So, Wyatt. It’s a good name. It’s a name for a man who’s strong, kind of a maverick, but trustworthy at the same time.”

“It’s a name for a cowboy outlaw from the Old West,” Lisa said.

“No, sweetie,” Willow said. “Wyatt Earp was a lawman. One of the good guys.”

“Was he really? I always thought he was one of the outlaws at the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.”

Clare ignored them and went on. “Wyatt’s thirty-four, an Aries—”

“Hmm,” Willow said.

“What?” Lisa asked. “Is Aries bad?” She took a large, fortifying gulp of her wine.

“It’s just not the best match for you,” Willow said. “Virgos usually find Aries to be too impulsive and untrustworthy.”

“I definitely don’t need another untrustworthy boyfriend. Let’s skip Wyatt,” Lisa said to Clare.

“Not boyfriend,” Clare corrected. “Date. Boy-toy. But we can set Wyatt aside if you want. For now.” She waved at the computer screen. “Bye, Wyatt. We hardly knew ye.”

She returned to the Messages page, and clicked on the next match’s thumbnail.

“Is there any way you can ask these guys for their exact birth times and cities?” Willow asked. “I can get so much more specific about their houses and rising signs if I know where and what time they...” She trailed off as both Lisa and Clare gave her long, slow stares. “Fine, don’t ask,” she said with a shrug. “I can work with just their Sun signs.”

“It’s like you think I don’t know you at all,” Clare said, shaking her head. “I did ask for their exact birth dates and places. How do you think I knew Wyatt was an Aries? That’s not something I really pay attention to.”

“You did?” Willow clapped her hands, bouncing up and down in her seat. “Oh, goody!”

“I figured it couldn’t hurt,” Clare said modestly. “Plus, these all happened to be guys who seemed pretty open-minded. I thought they’d be able to handle a little woo-woo stuff.”

“Astrology is not
woo-woo
,” Willow started, but Clare just grinned. “So, Lisa, meet Frank.”

She had clicked to enlarge his picture. Lisa frowned as she read the screen: Frank, age thirty-six, an accountant with brown hair and clear, pale blue eyes.

“What kind of name is Frank?” Lisa asked.

“It’s a cute name,” Willow protested. “It’s old-fashioned.”

Lisa was busy reading his profile. “He’s into math and mountain biking. Not exactly two of my major areas of interest.”

“So? That’s not how Mister Match matches people up, remember? Plus, we’re just looking for dates and boy toys, at least to start. And this guy’s cute.” Clare tilted her head from side to side. “Cute enough, anyway, and cute enough is cute enough. And he’s got that don’t-hurt-me look in his eyes, which is perfect for you in your current life situation.”

“What don’t-hurt-me look?” Lisa leaned in closer to see.

“Look,” Clare said, pointing at his picture. “See how he’s looking at the camera like whoever’s taking the picture is about to swing it at his head? It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

Lisa nodded dubiously, but Willow frowned. “I don’t see it. He just looks like a nice man to me.”

“Yeah, well, you girls don’t have to see it,” Clare said decisively, “because I do. Plus, it’s kind of obvious in his messages that he’s a little scared of women.”

“Shouldn’t I stay away from men who are afraid of women,” Lisa pointed out, “or of cameras?”

“No way. You need a man who’s going to treat you like a queen, and a dash of healthy fear of women goes a long way in that department. You’ve been down and out for a while now. You need someone to pick you up and dust you off, make you feel like someone worth wanting again. Then, after you’ve had some of that, you can move on to a guy with more backbone.”

“You mean, someone who’s actually a little, tiny bit interesting,” Lisa said. “Doormat types bore me to death.”

“Actually,” Willow offered, “I’m with Clare. You need a really sweet guy who’s going to treat you with all the respect you deserve. And it looks like Frank is a Capricorn, which is usually a great match with Virgo. And if you can get a Capricorn to set his work aside for just a little bit—” She raised her eyebrows suggestively. “They’re very sexy. Some astrologers refer to Capricorn as ‘Scorpio in a business suit.’”

Lisa blinked. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Whatever,” Clare said. “I doubt you’ll be too bored when Frank’s busy massaging your feet and working his way up to your nether regions.”

Lisa snorted a laugh. “Nether regions? Still reading those Regency romances, are you?”

“Yeah, so? Regencies are like comfort food. Reading them is like eating a piece of candy that’s actually good for you.” Clare tapped the computer. “So, sounds like Frank is still in the running. Let’s look at the last one. His name is Jacob, and he’s a hot restaurateur.”

“Hmm.” Lisa lifted a shoulder. “I guess a restaurant owner sounds potentially interesting. I mean, he’s probably independent, ambitious. And he’s probably a foodie.” All qualities she liked in a man. She tried not to think about the fact that they were also all qualities she already liked in one, specific man—Adam Masters.

“I agree. You could stand a little wooing with food.”

Lisa snorted. “Wooing with food” was one of Clare’s many relationship theories. She claimed that men who encouraged their dates to order more at dinner, who cooked for a woman, who shared food off their own plates and didn’t mind when a woman spoke with her mouth full, were the only kind of men worth a woman’s time and effort.

“Plus,” Clare was saying, “he’s got some incredible-looking green eyes, assuming his profile picture is accurate. So, we’re down to Frank and Jacob. Which one do you want to meet first?”

Lisa sighed. “I don’t know. I guess a hot foodie sounds a little more up my alley than a mountain-biking accountant.”

“Perfect. Jacob it is.” Clare smiled. “That was easy.”

“Okay. Now what?” Lisa’s stomach was feeling a little funny.

“Now we answer Jacob’s last message. He asked if we wanted to meet up on Wednesday for a drink. I mean, if
you
wanted to meet up. So I’ll just tell him that’s a yes.” Clare clicked
REPLY
and started typing. “I’ll keep stringing Wyatt and Frank along, of course, just in case things don’t work out with Jacob. But let’s stay positive, and trust that things with Jacob are going to work out perfectly.”

For some reason, that gave Lisa The Shiver—that sense of excitement and anticipation that sometimes made goose bumps rise on her arms.