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I should have waited to have kids, Brenna had told her. Mistake Number One talked me into it. Being pregnant and off the circuit ruined me.
Bitter, aging supermodels took out their frustration on those around them, including Elise’s father, dubbed Mistake Number One when he grew tired of Brenna’s attitude and left. Adult Elise knew all this from her psychology classes. Still hurt, even years later.
“So?” Dax sighed lustily. “I didn’t care. She was smoking hot.”
“Yeah. So I’ve been told.” She feigned sudden interest in her manicure, unable to take the appreciation for her mother in Dax’s expression.
“Elise.” His voice held a note of...warmth. Compassion.
Somehow, he’d steered her around, spine against the car, and then he was right there, sandwiching her between his masculine presence and the Vette.
He tipped her head up with a fist and locked those smoky irises on hers and she couldn’t breathe. “Tastes change. I like to think I’ve evolved since I was fourteen. Older women aren’t so appealing anymore.”
She shrugged. “Whatever. It hardly matters.”
“It does.” The screeches and hums of the parking lot and chatter of other diners faded away as he cocked his head and focused on her. “I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”
How in the world had he figured that out? Somehow, that fact alone made it easy to admit the truth. She probably couldn’t have hidden it anyway. “It’s hard to have a mother known for her looks when you’re so average, you know?”
He shifted closer, though she would have sworn there wasn’t much space between them in the first place.
“You’re the least average woman I’ve ever met, and you know what else? Beauty fades. That’s why it’s important to use what’s up here.” He circled an index finger around her temple, oh so slowly, and the electrified feel of his touch on her skin spread through her entire body.
“That’s my line,” she murmured. “I went to college and started my own business because I never wanted a life where my looks mattered.”
After watching her mother crash and burn with Mistake Number Two and then Three without finding the happiness she seemed to want so desperately, Elise learned early on that a relationship built on physical attraction didn’t work. It also taught her that outward appearance hardly factored in matters of the heart.
Compatibility and striving to find someone who made you better were the keys to a relationship. She’d built EA International on those principles, and it hadn’t failed yet.
Dax was so close; she inhaled his exotic scent on her next breath. It screamed male—and how.
“Me, too. Unlike your mother, I never wanted to make a career out of modeling.” When her eyebrows shot up, he chuckled. “Figured you checked up on me and knew that Calvin Klein put me through college. Guess you’ll be looking me up when you get home.”
A lit stick of dynamite between her and the laptop couldn’t stop that from happening. “My mother put me through college. Reluctantly, but I insisted.”
Funny how they’d both paid for college with modeling dollars and then took similar paths to chart their own destinies. She never would have guessed they had anything in common, let alone such important guiding experiences.
Dax’s gaze drifted lower and focused on her mouth. Because he was thinking about kissing her. She could read it all over his expression.
Emergency. This wasn’t a date. She’d led him on somehow. They didn’t like each other, and worse, he shied away from everything she desired—love, marriage, a soul mate. She was supposed to be matching him with one of her clients.
First and foremost, she’d given him permission to ruin her business if he didn’t find the love of his life. And she was compromising the entire thing.
All of it swirled into a big black burst of panic. Had she lost her mind?
Ducking clumsily out of his semi-embrace, she smiled brightly. “So I’ll call you to schedule the next session. Ready to go?”
His expression shuttered and he nodded. “Sure. I’ll leave you my card with my number.”
In awkward silence, they rode back to EA International where Dax’s car was parked.
Despite knowing he thought happily ever after was a myth, despite knowing he faked interest in her as a method of distraction, despite knowing he stood to lose $500,000 and pretended to misunderstand her questions or refused to answer them strictly to prevent it—despite all that, she’d wanted him to kiss her.
Dax Wakefield was better at seducing a woman than she’d credited.
* * *
When Elise got to her office, she locked the door and sank into the chair. Her head fell forward into her cupped palms, too wined-and-Daxed to stay upright any longer. If he flipped her out this much without laying those gorgeously defined lips on hers, how much worse would it be if he’d actually done it?
She couldn’t take another session with him.
Match him now.
She had enough information. Dax might have thought he was being sneaky by probing her for answers to the questions in kind but he’d revealed more about himself in the getting there than he likely realized.
While the match program booted up, Elise stuck a stick of gum in her mouth in hopes it would stave off the intense desire for chocolate. She always craved chocolate, but it was worse when she was under stress.
Maybe she should take a page from Dax and relieve her stress with sex.
But not with him. No sir.
Almost of their own accord, her fingers keyed his name into the browser. Provocative photos spilled onto the screen of a younger Dax with washboard abs and formfitting briefs scarcely covering the good parts. Her mouth went dry. The man was a former underwear model with a psychology degree, a wicked sense of humor and a multibillion-dollar media empire.
Who in the world did she have in her system to match that?
Usually she had a pretty good idea who the match would be ahead of time. One of the benefits of administering the profile sessions herself—she knew her clients very well.
A slice of fear ripped through her. What if the program couldn’t find a match? It happened occasionally. The algorithms were so precise that sometimes clients had to wait a few months, until she entered new clients.
Dax would never accept that excuse. He’d call foul and claim victory right then and there. Either he’d crow about proving Elise a sham or worse, claim she’d withheld the name on purpose to avoid the fallout when the match wasn’t the love of his life.
Newly determined, she shut down the almost-naked pictures of Dax and flipped to the profile screen. She flew through the personal information section and consulted her notes before starting on the personality questions.
That went easily, too. In fact, she didn’t even have to glance at the scribbled words in her notebook.
Do you want to be in love? She typed yes. He did, he just hadn’t found the right person yet, or he wouldn’t have agreed to be matched. Plus, she’d watched his face when he described a woman who didn’t care about whatever he hid behind his curtain. That man wanted to connect really, really badly with someone who got him.
How do you sabotage relationships? She snorted and typed “by only dating women he has no chance of falling in love with.”
When she reached the last question, she breathed a sigh of relief. Not so bad. Thank goodness she wouldn’t have to see him again. A quick phone call to set up his first meet with the match and she’d be done with Dax Wakefield.
She hit Save and ran the match algorithm. Results came back instantly. Fantastic. She might even treat herself to half a carton of Chunky Monkey as a reward. She clicked on the pop-up link and Dax’s match was...Elise Arundel.
No! She blinked, but the letters didn’t change.
That was so wrong, she couldn’t even put words together to say how wrong.
She ran the compiler again. Elise Arundel.
Stomach cramping with dread, she vised her temples. That’s what she got for not asking him all the questions. For letting her professional ethics slide away in the wake of the whirlwind named Dax.
He’d think she did it on purpose—because she’d started to fall for his slick charm. If she actually told him she was his match, he’d smirk with that knowing glint in his eyes and...
She’d skewed the results. That had to be it. Talk about your Freudian slipups—she’d been thinking about the almost-kiss and the almost-naked pictures and his laugh and thus answered the questions incorrectly.
Besides, the short, fat girl inside could never be enough to change Dax Wakefield’s mind about love. She had to match him with someone else.
Her fingers shook and she could hardly type, but those answers had to change. He didn’t want to be in love. Total projection on her part to say that he did, exactly as he’d accused her of earlier. She fixed that one, then the next one and eventually worked her way back through the profile
There. She clicked Run and shut her eyes.
This time, the pop-up opened to reveal...Candace Waters.
Perfect. Candy was a gorgeous blonde with a high-school education. Dax would love running intellectual circles around her and Candy liked football. They’d get along famously.
No one ever had to know Elise had nearly screwed up.
Four (#u59f14349-7df2-521c-9e05-d20f9ff18df0)
When an unrecognized number flashed on Dax’s phone, he almost didn’t answer it.
Instead of working, as he should be, he’d been watching his phone, hoping Elise might call today.
He couldn’t get that moment against the car out of his head, that brief flicker in her gaze that said she didn’t hate him anymore and better yet, didn’t see him as a match to be pawned off on some other female. Before he’d had time to explore what she did feel, she’d bolted, leaving him to wonder if he’d imagined it.
He should call her already. It was only a conversation to schedule the next session, which would likely be the last. What was the big deal about calling? It wasn’t as if she’d answer the main line at EA International anyway. He could schedule the appointment through Angie and go on with his day.
The quicker they finished the sessions, the closer Elise would be to be finding him a match, at which point he’d prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Elise’s matchmaking service fronted as a school for gold diggers. Then, the cold place inside that had developed during the rift with Leo could be warmed nicely by the flames of EA International roasting on the morning news.
A prospect that held less and less appeal the more time he spent with Elise.
The dilemma ate at him, and if he didn’t see her again, he didn’t have to think about it. That’s why he didn’t call.
But Dax answered his phone, mentally preparing to spiel off a contract’s status or sales figures—pending the caller’s identification. “Wakefield.”
“It’s Elise Arundel.” The smooth syllables hit him in all the right places. “Do you have a few minutes?”
He should have called her. Elise had a sexy phone voice.
Grinning like a loon for who knew what reason, Dax settled back in his chair and put his feet out. “Depends on what for. If it’s lightning round two, yes.”
Elise’s chuckle was a little on the nervous side. “I’m afraid that’s not the reason for my call. Actually, I have good news on that front. More sessions aren’t required after all. I’ve got your match.”
Oh, wow. This thing had just become nauseatingly real.
“Already? That is good news,” Dax said heartily. It was good news. The best. He didn’t have to see Elise again, exactly as he wanted.
And a little voice inside was singing, Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“So,” Elise chimed in quickly, “I’m calling to set up your first meet with your match, Candace. She prefers to be called Candy, though.”
“Candy.” That was something you ate, not someone you dated, and sounded suspiciously like a name for a coed. “She’s legal, right?”
“You mean is she over the age of eighteen?” Elise’s withering tone put the grin back on his face. “What kind of matchmaker do you take me for? She’s twenty-eight and works as a paralegal for Browne and Morgan.”
“Just checking. What’s the drill? I’m supposed to call her and set up a date or something?”
“That’s up to you. I’ve emailed her picture to you, and I’ve sent yours to her. If you’re both agreeable to meeting, I’d be happy to coordinate or you can go it alone from here.”
Curiosity got the best of him and he shouldered the phone to his ear so he could click through his email. There it was—“Sender: Elise Arundel, Subject: Candace Waters.” He opened it and a picture of Candy popped onto the screen.
Holy hell. She was gorgeous. Like men-falling-over-themselves-to-get-her-a-drink gorgeous. Not at all what he was expecting. “Is she one of your makeover success stories?”
If so, Elise might have a bit more magic in her wand than he’d credited.
“Not everyone is in need of a makeover. Candy came to me as is.”
Nice. Not a gold digger then. He took a closer look. She was blonde-with-a-capital-B, wearing a wicked smile that promised she had the moves to back it up. He would have noticed her across the room in a heartbeat.
For the first time, he got an inkling that this whole deal might be legitimate. “She’ll do.”
Then he returned to planet earth. There was a much greater chance that Candy had something really wrong with her if she’d resorted to a matchmaker to find a date.
“I had a feeling you’d like her,” Elise said wryly. “She’s perfect for you.”
Because something was really wrong with him too?
Elise was obviously running around wielding her psychology degree like a blunt instrument. She’d probably come up with all kinds of bogus analyses about his inability to commit and his mama issues—bogus because he didn’t have a problem committing as long as the thing had Wakefield Media stamped on it. Females were a different story. He’d die before letting a woman down the way his mother had let down his father, and he’d never met someone worth making that kind of promise to.
No doubt Elise had warned Candy about what she’d gotten herself into. Maybe she’d given Candy hints about how to get under his skin. Elise certainly had figured out how to do that well enough. And of course Elise had a vested interest in making sure Candy made him happy. This woman he’d been matched with might even be a plant. Some actress Elise had paid to get him to fall in love with her.
That...schemer.
Thank God he never had to see Elise again. A paralegal sounded like a blessed reprieve from razor-sharp matchmakers with great legs.
“I’ll call her. Then I expect you’ll want a full report afterward, right?”
The line went dead silent.
“Still there, Elise?”
“Not a full report.”
“About whether she’s my soul mate. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
For some reason, that made Elise laugh and muscles he hadn’t realized were tense relaxed.
“Yeah, I do want that report. I guess we never really laid down the ground rules of how this deal was going to go. Do we need an unbiased third party to verify the results?”
