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Both she and Dax shot startled glances at their watches. When he hadn’t shown, she’d scheduled another appointment. How had the minutes vanished so quickly?
He stood immediately. “I’m late for a meeting.”
What did it say that they’d both lost track of the hour? She nodded. “Tomorrow, then. Same time, same bat channel?”
He grinned. “You’ve got yourself a date, Ms. Arundel.”
Three (#u59f14349-7df2-521c-9e05-d20f9ff18df0)
Dax whistled a nameless tune as he pulled open the door to EA International. Deliberately late, and not at all sorry.
Today, he was in charge, and Elise would not get the drop on him again. He’d give her enough information to make it seem that he was going along willingly, simultaneously dragging out their interaction a little longer. Long enough to figure out what about Elise got under his skin, anyway. Then he was done here.
“Morning, Angie.” Dax smiled at the receptionist and handed her the vase of stargazer lilies he’d brought. “For you. Is Ms. Arundel’s calendar free?”
Angie moistened her lips and smiled in return. “Cleared, just as you requested yesterday. Thanks for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“I’ll show myself to Ms. Arundel’s office.” He winked. “Don’t tell her I’m coming. It’s a surprise.”
When Dax blew through the door of Elise’s office, the location of which he’d noted yesterday on his way out, the look on her face was more wary disbelief than surprise.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” was all she said and ignored him in favor of typing on her laptop. The clacking was too rhythmic to produce actual comprehensible sentences.
Faking it. For him. Warmed his heart.
“I’m taking you to lunch,” he informed her. “Get your handbag and shut that thing down.”
That earned her attention. She pierced him with that laser-sharp gaze he suspected had the power to drill right through his skull and read his mind like a book. “Are you this egotistical with all women? I’m shocked you ever get a second date.”
“Yet I do. Have lunch with me and you’ll find out why.” He quirked a brow at her and pulled out the big guns. “Unless you’re afraid.”
She didn’t scowl, didn’t immediately negate the statement. Instead, she smiled and clicked the laptop closed. “Can’t stand being under the spotlight, can you? If you don’t like the setting I use to walk through the profile questions, just tell me.”
A spontaneous and unexpected laugh shot from his mouth. Why was it such a surprise that she was on to him?
He held up both hands. “I surrender. You’re right. That little room with the fish book is like being in therapy. Restaurants are more relaxed.”
Elise opened a desk drawer and withdrew a brown leather bag. “Since my schedule is mysteriously clear, lunch it is. On one condition.” She cocked her head, sending her dark hair swinging against her chin. “Don’t evade, change the subject or try to outsmart me. Answer the questions so we can be done.”
“Aww. You’re not enjoying this?” He was. It was the most fun he’d had with a woman he wasn’t dating in his life.
“You’re quite honestly the most difficult, disturbing, contrary client I’ve ever dealt with.” She swept passed him in a cloud of unidentifiable perfume that hit him in the solar plexus, and then she shot back over her shoulder, “Which means you’re paying. But I’m driving.”
He grinned and followed her to the parking lot, then slid into the passenger seat of the sleek Corvette she motioned to. He would have opened her door, but she beat him to it.
New car smell wrapped around him. “Nice ride. I pegged you for more of a Toyota girl.”
She shrugged. “Even fairy godmothers like to arrive at the ball in style.”
“I’m not threatened by a woman driving, by the way.” He crossed his arms so he didn’t accidentally brush shoulders with Elise. The seats were really close together. Perfect for lovers. Not so good for business associates. “Just in case you were worried.”
Elise selected an out-of-the-way bistro-type place without asking him and told the hostess they’d prefer to sit outside, also without his input. The wrought iron chairs and tables on the terrace added French charm and the wine list was passable, so he didn’t mind. But two could play that game, so he ordered a bottle of Chianti and nodded to the waiter to pour Elise a glass whether she wanted one or not.
“To loosen you up?” she asked pertly and picked up her glass to sniff the bloodred wine with appreciation.
“Nah. To loosen you up.” He dinged their rims together and watched her drink. Elise liked red wine. He filed that tidbit away. “I didn’t actually agree to your condition, you know.”
“I noticed. I’m banking on the fact that you’re a busy man and can’t continually take time away from work to finish something you don’t want to be doing in the first place. So don’t disappoint me. What’s the difference between love, romance and sex?”
Dax choked on the wine he’d just swallowed and spent his time recovering. “Give a guy a warning before you lay that kind of question on him.”
“Warning. Question imminent. Warning. Question imminent,” she intoned in such a perfect robot voice, he sputtered over a second sip, laughing this time.
For an uptight matchmaker, she had an offbeat sense of humor. He liked it. More than he should. It was starting to affect his focus and the more Elise charmed him, the less he remembered why it was important to punish her for Leo’s defection.
“Let’s see,” he said brusquely. “Fiction, Sade and yes, please.”
“Excuse me?”
“The answer to your question. Love equals fiction, Sade is romantic music and critical to set the mood, and I would assume ‘yes, please’ is self-explanatory in relation to sex.”
“That’s not precisely what I was looking for.”
“Then tell me what you would say. So I have an example to go by.”
“You never give up, do you?”
“Took you long enough to figure that out. So?” he prompted with raised eyebrows.
She sighed. “They’re intertwined so closely you can’t remove one without destroying the value of the other two.”
“That’s a loaded statement. Tell me more before I proceed to tear it apart.” He propped his chin on his hand and ignored the halibut a waiter placed in front of him, which he scarcely recalled ordering.
Her lips mushed together in apparent indecision. Or frustration. Hard to tell with her.
“You can have sex without being in love or putting on romantic music. But it’s so much better with both. Without love and romance, sex is meaningless and empty.”
As she warmed to the topic, her expression softened and that, plus the provocative subject matter, plus the warm breeze playing with her hair, plus...whatever it was about her that drew him all swirled together and spread like a sip of very old, very rare cognac in his chest. “Go on.”
“On the flip side, you can certainly make a romantic gesture toward someone you’re in love with and not end up in bed. But the fact that you’ve been intimate magnifies it. Makes it more romantic. See what I mean?”
“Philosophy.” He nodded sagely and wondered if the thing going on inside might be a heart attack. “I see. You want to understand how I feel about the three, not give you examples. Rookie mistake. Won’t happen again.”
“Ha. You did it on purpose so you could probe me.”
That was so close to the truth, the back of his neck heated. Next his ears would turn red and no woman got to have that strong of an effect on him. “Yeah, well, guess what? I like the spotlight. When you accused me of that earlier, it was nothing but a classic case of projection. You don’t like the spotlight so you assumed that was the reason I didn’t want to sit under yours.”
She didn’t so much as flinch. “Then what is the reason you went to such great lengths to get me out of the office?”
The shrewd glint in the depths of those chocolaty irises tipped him off that he hadn’t been as slick with the schedule-clearing as he believed. Odds were, she’d also figured out that she’d hit a couple of nerves yesterday and lunch was designed to prevent that from happening again.
“That’s your turf.” He waved at the crowd of tables, people and ambiance. “This is mine.”
“And I’m on it, with nary a peep. Cut me some slack. Tell me what your ideal mate brings to the relationship.”
“A lack of interest in what’s behind the curtain,” he said instantly as if the answer had been there all along. Though he’d never so much as thought about the question, not once, and certainly wouldn’t have told her if she hadn’t made the excellent point about the turf change.
But lack of interest wasn’t quite right. It was more the ability to turn a blind eye. Someone who saw through the curtain and didn’t care that backstage resembled post-tornado wreckage.
Was that why he broke up with women after the standard four weeks—none thus far had that X-ray-vision-slash-blind-eye quality?
“Good.” Elise scribbled in her ever-present notebook. “Now tell me what you bring to her.”
When she’d called the questions intensive, she wasn’t kidding. “What, presents aren’t enough?”
“Don’t be flip. Unless you want me to assume you bring nothing to a relationship and that’s why you shy away from them.” A light dawned in her eyes. “Oh. That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t think you have anything to offer.”
“Wait a minute. That’s not what I said.” This conversation had veered way too far off the rails for comfort.
He’d agreed to this ridiculous idea of being matched only because he never thought it would work. Instead, Elise challenged his deep-seated beliefs at every turn with a series of below-the-belt hits. That was not supposed to happen.
“Then say what you mean,” she suggested quietly. “For once. If you found that woman, the one who didn’t care what was behind your curtain, what do you have to offer her in return?”
“I don’t know.” It was the most honest answer he could give. And the most unsettling.
He shoveled food in his mouth in case she asked a follow-up question.
What did he have to offer in a relationship? He’d never considered it important to examine, largely because he never intended to have a relationship. But he felt deficient all at once.
“Fair enough. I get that these questions are designed to help people who are looking for love. You’re not. So we’ll move on to the lightning round.” Her sunny tone said she knew she was letting him off the hook and it was okay.
Oddly grateful, he nodded and relaxed. “I rule at lightning rounds.”
“We’ll see, Mr. Wakefield. Glass half-full, or half-empty?”
“Technically, it’s always full of both air and water.” Her laugh rumbled through him and he breathed a little easier. Things were clicking along at a much safer level now, and eating held more appeal.
“That’s a good one. Apple or banana?”
“What is that, a Freudian question? Apple, of course.”
“Actually, apples have biblical connotations. I might interpret it as you can’t stay away from the tree of knowledge,” she said with a smirk. “What relieves stress?”
“Sex.”
She rolled her eyes. “I probably didn’t need to ask that one. Do you believe in karma?”
These were easy, surface-level questions. She should have started with them. “No way. Lots of people never get what’s coming to them.”
“That is so true.” She chuckled with appreciation and shook her head.
“Don’t freak out but I do believe you’re enjoying this after all.”
Her smile slipped but she didn’t look away. This might not be a date, but he couldn’t deny that lunch with Elise was the most interesting experience he’d had with a woman, period. Even ones he was dating.
The longer this went on, the harder it was going to be to denounce her publicly. She was good—much better than he’d prepared for—and to criticize her abilities would likely reflect just as poorly on him as it did her.
Worse, he was afraid he’d started to like her. He should probably do something about that before she got too far under his skin.
* * *
By one o’clock, Elise’s side hurt from laughing. Wine at lunch should be banned. Or required. She couldn’t decide which.
“I have to get back to the office,” she said reluctantly.
Reluctantly? She had a ton of things to do. And this was lunch with Dax. Whom she hated...or rather didn’t like very much. Actually, he was pretty funny and maybe a little charming. Of course he was—he had lots of practice wooing women.
Dax made a face. “Yeah. Duty calls.”
He stood and gallantly took her hand, while simultaneously pulling her chair away. It was amazingly well-coordinated. Probably because he’d done it a million times.
They strolled to the car and she pretended that she didn’t notice how slowly, and she didn’t immediately fish her keys from her bag. Dax put his palm on the driver’s-side door, leaning against it casually, so she couldn’t have opened it anyway. Deliberately on his part, she was sure.
She should call him on it.
“Tomorrow, then?” he asked.
Elise shook her head. “I’m out of the office tomorrow. I have a thing with my mother.”
Brenna had an appointment with a plastic surgeon in Dallas because the ones in L.A. stopped living up to her expectations. Apparently she couldn’t find one who could make her look thirty again.
“All day?” Dax seemed disappointed. “You can’t squeeze in an hour for me?”
No way was he disappointed. She shook her head. The wine was affecting her more than she’d thought.
“I have to pick her up from the airport and then take her to the doctor.” Oh, that might have been too much information. “I need to ask for your discretion. She wouldn’t like it if she knew I was talking to others about her private affairs.”
“Because your mother is famous or something?”
Elise heaved a sigh. “I assumed you checked up on me and therefore already knew I was Brenna Burke’s daughter. I should have kept my mouth shut.”
Stupid wine.
“Brenna Burke is your mother?” Dax whistled. “I had a poster of her above my bed when I was a teenager. The one where she wore the bikini made of leaves. Good times.”
“Thanks, I needed the image in my head of you fantasizing about my mother.” That’s precisely why she never mentioned Brenna. Not only because of the ick factor, but also because no one ever whistled over Elise. It was demoralizing. “You know she was thirty-five in that photo, right?”
Elise called it her mother’s I’m-not-old stage, when the hot runway models were closer to her nine-year-old daughter’s age than Brenna’s, and the offers of work had all but dried up.
