Mister Match (The Match Series Book 1) (29 page)

Chapter
33

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“W
ow.” Thirty minutes later, Lisa shook her head again and took a sip of her second glass of sparkling water with lime. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe how nice you seem. How...normal.” Especially, she thought, for a guy who was hotter than her apartment in August.

“Well, thank you. I think.” Roberto laughed. “Although I’m not sure that’s such a good thing. It sounds too close to the kiss of death in the dating world—being told I’m a nice, normal guy.”

“It’s a good thing,” Lisa assured him. “Believe me. I don’t mean to get too personal, but why in the world would a man who looks like you need a dating site to meet women?”

He laughed, sounding slightly uncomfortable. “I could ask you the same question.”

Which was very gentlemanly of him. She shouldn’t have said that. It was probably best to get off the subject entirely.

“Look, it’s none of my business.” She shook her head. “Just take it as a compliment. And let me just tell you, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a nice, normal guy.” She snorted. “You should see the last guy I went out with through Mister-Match. Let’s just say, he wasn’t above making sexual innuendoes about me, when we’d only just met.”

Roberto’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. “Wow, that’s...classy. So, have you been on a lot of dates lately?”

Oops.
“Oh—no. Not really. That guy, he was no one. We just had a drink together, and that was it.” Lisa smiled at Roberto, inwardly cringing at her slip-up.

Everyone knew you didn’t talk about other men on a date with someone new. Not that she was on a date with Roberto... Except, he thought she was, since she still hadn’t gotten around to telling him the truth about why she’d come here. She should be letting him off the hook so he could go meet someone else, and start a real relationship with someone whose friends weren’t pulling the puppet strings.

Except he was just so nice, and so easy to talk to. The fact that he was incredibly handsome didn’t hurt, either.

Roberto was nodding. “I know how it can be. Sometimes I wish I could just line up dates like interviews. Like, bring the speed-dating model to Internet dating, since you can usually figure out within five minutes whether it’s someone you’d like to spend more time with or not.”

“Five minutes?” Lisa snorted morosely. “I usually know within thirty seconds.”

Roberto laughed. “So, how am I doing? I mean, you’re still here—” He checked his watch. “A half-hour in. Should I take that as a good sign?”

She smiled back at him. He was definitely incredibly good-looking. Maybe even more handsome than Adam. Not that she was comparing.

She
wasn’t
comparing, she told herself fiercely. She wasn’t even thinking of Adam. Adam Who?

“You’re doing great so far,” she told Roberto truthfully. “Not at all what I expected.”

“Sounds like you must have been dating down,” he observed, and watched her over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of his white wine.

“Dating down.” Lisa considered it as she played with the damp napkin that served as a coaster for her drink. “Maybe so. On the other hand,” she joked, “when you’re basically washed up at twenty-nine, maybe you have to take what you can get.”

“Washed up?” Roberto repeated. He laughed, a hearty sound that came from deep in his chest. “And taking what you can get. Gee, thanks, what a compliment.”

There was no offense in his tone, which was a miracle, since Lisa was busy cramming her foot into her mouth left and right. Plus, Roberto was right. She was being absurd. Twenty-nine was still young, Roberto was a definite catch, and Lisa had her whole life to find The One.

Except I already found him. And he doesn’t want to be with me.

The thought was utterly depressing.

“Hey, I didn’t mean that seriously.” Roberto looked concerned. “I just had to laugh at the idea of a beautiful, intelligent woman like you being ‘washed up.’ You’ve got everything a guy could want. How could you think it’s all over for you?”

Lisa twisted her mouth. “Because—”

She almost told him. She almost spilled her guts about Adam, about their deepening friendship and their brief, thrilling, incredible affair. About how she’d fallen head-over-heels in love with him.

About how it had fallen apart just as suddenly and unexpectedly as the relationship had arisen.

Instead she took a big gulp of sparkling water, and was almost grateful when the carbonation scratched her throat and made her cough.

“Uh-oh. Did it go down the wrong pipe?” Roberto stood. “Let me get you some regular water. That might help.”

Did getting her a glass of water count as wooing with food? Lisa felt even more depressed at the thought, as her eyes watered and her throat smarted. Roberto was a perfectly nice, intelligent, handsome guy. He even seemed to be forgiving all her social gaffes, which were many and counting.

And all she could seem to do was hold him up against the standard that Adam had set, and only Adam could meet.

When Roberto returned with a glass of water decorated with a slice of lemon, Lisa had recovered enough to smile and apologize.

“No worries,” he said easily as he slipped back into his chair with a grin. “Happens to the best of us.”

“No, actually...” She took a deep breath and mentally crossed her fingers. “I owe you an apology for this whole evening.” Roberto started to frown and shake his head, but she plunged on ahead. “No, I do. You’re obviously a great guy. Sweet, helpful, smart, great-looking—”

“Hey, don’t build me up too much, here.” He laughed nervously. “I’m not as normal as you think.”

“No, you are. You’re exactly the kind of catch millions of women would be thrilled to land.”

He shook his head slowly. “You’re wrong.”

“Roberto, you’re gainfully employed, you can string more than two sentences together, you address my eyes, not my breasts, when you talk to me, and plus, I mean, bonus, you’re totally, incredibly hot—”

“I’m a stripper,” he blurted out.

Lisa felt her eyes pop wide. “I’m sorry. A what?”

“A stripper,” he repeated miserably. “An exotic dancer. I work for Hard All-American Hunks.”

All she could do was stare.

Roberto seemed to be the type to babble under pressure. “I hire out to bachelorette parties, you know, birthday parties, whatever, and do my thing. I know it’s not completely orthodox but it pays the bills, and I like to think it brings a lot of people happiness—”

“Whoa, whoa, there, cowboy.” Lisa finally found her words and held up a hand. “It’s all right. You don’t have to explain.”

Roberto looked both uncomfortable and sad. “Well, you have no idea how many women turn around and run in the opposite direction when they find out about it.”

Lisa leaned on her elbows, still processing the information. “I thought you said you worked in computers.”

“Yeah, I lied,” he said miserably. “I was in the IT industry, until I found out this paid better.”

Lisa raised her eyebrows. “Wow. That’s so cool.”

He looked at her in careful surprise. “You’re not freaked out by that? You realize, I make my living by putting my crotch in women’s faces. Sometimes men’s faces. And I make them grab my butt. It’s all part of the act.”

Lisa couldn’t help but laugh, envisioning a naked Roberto grabbing her hands and rubbing them down his washboard abs.

Then she stopped laughing as she realized that the image did nothing for her. Her internal temperature didn’t rise even one, single degree.

“No, I can’t say it freaks me out. I think it’s hot,” she fibbed. What was a little white lie between friends? Besides, he was hot. She could see that objectively, even if she couldn’t feel it, the way she did when she looked at Adam.

“Oh.” Roberto’s face changed slowly to a hopeful expression. “Well, good, then. Wow. I’m glad I got that off my chest, and within the first hour, too. I think we’re off to a great start.”

He grinned and raised his glass to clink it against hers.

“Seriously,” Lisa said, “I can’t imagine why any woman would be scared of your job. I mean, you’re not a prostitute, right?”

“Oh, God no,” Roberto said, and the amount of horror in his expression told her he was telling the truth.

“Then what’s the problem? I’d think that would up your marketability by a lot.”

“I guess not many women are as open-minded as you.”

“Then they must be crazy,” Lisa assured him. “I’d imagine almost any woman with a pulse could fall for you at ‘hello.’”

He watched her carefully as she spoke, and when he smiled, it was both patient and understanding. “But—not you. Am I right?”

She didn’t answer for a moment. She didn’t want to say yes, but she couldn’t very well deny it, either.

Roberto squinted and steepled his fingers together in front of him. “Let’s see. I’m actually pretty good at reading people, and I had a feeling about you from the minute you walked in.” He tapped his fingers against his lips while Lisa sat miserably, watching his hands.

They were good, strong hands. Capable ones. And he had a great mouth. Nice, wide lips, humor in their lines. And an amazing body. He was a stripper, for God’s sake. Why couldn’t she drum up even one lick of heat when she looked at him?

“You recently got your heart broken,” he said after a moment. “By someone you really liked. You fell hard and fast, but then it was over, just all of a sudden. And now you’re trying to pick up the pieces and move on, but that’s impossible because you really, really liked this guy, and you just don’t want to move on.”

Eyes wide, Lisa felt herself sit up straighter in her chair. “How—how did you know that? That’s exactly right. How did you—?”

He smiled enigmatically. “I’m just good like that.” Then he chuckled. “No, not really. First of all, it takes one to know one. I recently got out of a relationship, myself, and I still feel a little bit bruised and vulnerable too.”

“But how could you tell all that about me?”

“I recognize the look in your eyes, for one thing. You look like you’re hurt but you’re trying to be brave about it. And your mood swings are a dead giveaway.”

“Mood swings?” Lisa repeated.

“Sure.” He grinned. “One minute you’re smiling and flirtatious, and the next you’re sad and lonely, a million miles away. It doesn’t take a genius to read the signs.”

“Wow.” She wasn’t sure whether to be impressed by his powers of observation or nervous about his overly close scrutiny.

He eyed her for a moment longer, then shook his head. “All right, I have to be honest. I’m not just the most observant guy in the world. I also have this embarrassing little addiction to
Rag
magazine. Something I picked up from my ex. She always kept it in the bathroom to read while she, well.” He shrugged. “You know.”

Lisa laughed, and then sighed. “You must have seen the spread about me and Adam.”

He nodded sympathetically. “I saw your picture in there a few days ago, and I knew I recognized you from somewhere. And then when you walked in tonight, I put it together. You’re the one they’re saying cheated on Mister Match.”

Lisa blinked, hard, and then huffed out a breath.

Of course. Of
course
. Thanks to Adam, she couldn’t go anywhere now without everyone knowing her business—worse, a warped and twisted version of her business.

She scrubbed at her eyes. “God, is it everywhere? I mean, does the whole entire world know about my stupid love life?”

“Hey, it’s not that bad. Shoot, I’d kill for some publicity like that. It would really help me jump-start my modeling career.”

“Well, look out, fame, fortune and Hollywood,” Lisa said sourly, “because we’re probably being photographed right now. ‘Mister Match’s Mistress Steps Out with Her New Boy-Toy.’” She snorted.

Roberto glanced around. “Really?” He sat up straighter and smoothed his shirt over his pecs.

The guy was very, very nice, Lisa thought, but he was vain as hell.

It was always something.

“You look fine,” she said flatly. “You know, I hate to cut this short, but I think I should probably head home.” She no longer felt the need to tell him about Clare and Willow and the puppet strings. He wasn’t going to be hurt by their non-date, and that was all she cared about.

“Of course,” Roberto said instantly. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

He paid the bill while Lisa waited, feeling as if a fist had just gone through her chest. Her nonexistent behind-the-eye throb had suddenly reasserted itself, times a hundred—it seemed to have swelled into a full-blown, massive, three-alarm headache.

Roberto rejoined her. “Ready?” At her nod, he guided her outside to walk through the late-evening, canyon-like streets of downtown.

They walked for a few moments in silence. Then Roberto looked down at her, his eyes serious. “Can I give you some unsolicited advice?”

She glanced up at him. “Sure. I guess. What is it?”