The Matchmaking Machine

“What’s the name of the place?”

Maggie searched her memory and came up blank. “I can’t remember. How about if I meet you in front of the museum. The entrance that faces the park?”

Richard squashed the spurt of anger he felt at her refusal to trust him with her address. This wasn’t San Francisco, he reminded himself. New York apparently had its own set of dating rules. Besides, he thought with satisfaction, one phone call to personnel on Monday and he’d have her file, complete with her home address. He could wait until then.

“The entrance in front of the park,” he repeated.

“Did Romanos say when his boss was due in?” she asked.

“No, he didn’t say much of anything. He just left some papers and took that folder you brought.”

Maggie frowned slightly.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, wondering if she would make an excuse to go back into the study to look at the papers Daniel had left.

“Did you ask to see any ID? I saw Romanos in the office so I’d recognize his face, but you wouldn’t know him,” she added at Richard’s blank look. “All jokes about industrial spying aside, our company does some highly sensitive work for some pretty high-powered financial institutions.”

Richard resisted the urge to reassure her, knowing that the only way he could was to admit he was Worthington, and he didn’t want to do that until he’d had a chance to get to know her. And for her to get to know him. “Was there something confidential in what you brought?” he said.

“I don’t actually know but probably not. If it had been highly confidential, Emily would have brought it herself.” At least, she hoped Emily would have been professional enough to put aside her animosity long enough to do it.

“I’ll see you at seven, and thanks for your help with the faucet,” Richard said as he walked her to the door.

“You’re welcome.” Maggie stepped out into the hallway and heard the door close behind her with a restrained thud. The flash of loss she felt at the sound caught her off guard. She’d just met the man, for heaven’s sake. She couldn’t miss him already.

Stepping into the elevator, she automatically pushed the button for the lobby. Her mind was fully occupied with trying to make sense of her unusual reaction to Richard. She couldn’t. She had no idea why her response to him had been so strongly sensual. Granted, he was gorgeous, but gorgeous men were a dime a dozen in a city the size of New York. It was as if her emotions had recognized him on some level that her rational mind didn’t even know existed.

She gave Emily a quick call to let her know she wouldn’t be returning to work and then made her way to the front entrance. She shivered as she stepped out of the apartment building and a cool gust of spring wind pounced on her, making her damp sweater feel cold and clammy. She hurried toward the bus stop. She needed to get home and into dry clothes before she came down with something.

Thirty minutes later, she let herself into her apartment and, after making herself a cup of apricot coffee, powered up her computer, bringing up her dating program. She hadn’t learned as much as she’d hoped about Worthington from her visit to his apartment, but every little bit helped. The more facts she entered, the more accurate the responses would be when she asked it questions.

Maggie caught her lower lip between her teeth as she wondered what kinds of things the program would tell her if she had a way to use it on Richard.

On the other hand, it might be more fun to delve into Richard’s personality the old-fashioned way. Slowly. Taking her time to learn his likes and dislikes. Discovering all the little quirks that made him the unique individual he was. A shiver ran over her skin at the thought. She didn’t have the slightest doubt that it would be worth every second it took.

The chime of her clock reminded her of the passing time, and she hurriedly finished keying in the information about Worthington’s apartment. The information she had garnered so far about what made John Worthington tick was still sketchy at best, she thought with frustration. Hopefully, that would improve once she actually met the man and was able to observe him in action. Then she could fine tune her program, and begin to ask it questions more complicated than what his ideal woman looked like and how he would respond to general situations.

A sense of anticipation mixed with dread roiled through her at the thought of using it. Anticipation over Worthington being held accountable for his ruthlessness. Dread of the possible consequences of her actions, of setting events in motion that might be hard to control.

Wealthy men tended to think of themselves as outside the normal rules of civilized behavior. Her one and only meeting with her biological father had graphically proved that to her. And, according to her research, Worthington was far wealthier than her father had been.

But even if she failed in her attempts to make Worthington pay, it couldn’t backfire, could it? She tried to look at the situation logically. He couldn’t hurt her emotionally. She would never be dumb enough to fall for the guy. Not only did she have good reason to dislike Worthington personally but also her mother’s experience had taught her to avoid wealthy men like the plague. Besides, her intense attraction to Richard was almost like being inoculated against John Worthington. No, emotionally she was safe.

And what else could he realistically do to her? Fire her? That didn’t matter because she fully intended to leave just as soon as she found another job anyway. She didn’t want to work for a man who treated his employees the way Worthington had treated Sam.

A second chime from the clock galvanized her into action and she hurried to get ready.

Once she had showered and liberally sprayed herself with the light floral scent she preferred, she hurried into the bedroom to get dressed.

Opening her closet, she automatically grabbed one of her pre-Worthington outfits. Catching herself, she hastily put it back. Like the rest of her old wardrobe, it was in earth tones and bought two sizes too big to successfully disguise the shape of her breasts and the curve of her hips. It was designed to make men’s eyes skim over her without lingering.

A shudder of distaste churned through her stomach as she remembered the feel of her first foster father’s eyes on her. Remembered the feeling of contamination, as if her body were somehow responsible for his licentious thoughts and the whispered filth he’d subjected her to every time he’d caught her alone.

That wasn’t your fault, she said to herself, slicing off the insidious memories. He was the archetypal dirty old man, but that was his problem, not yours, Maggie reminded herself, remembering what the psychologist had told her. Her mind might believe it, but somehow her intellect had never been able to convince her emotions. Every time a man looked at her, she didn’t see honest appreciation of her femininity; she saw unclean lust.

Face it, woman, she told herself. You allowed a dirty old man to dictate your relationship to your feelings for the past fourteen years, and it’s long past time to stop it!

She nodded decisively. Getting revenge on Worthington would serve a dual purpose. Beyond the obvious one, it would be the opportunity to learn to dress so that she looked like what she wanted to be inside—a thoroughly modern professional. And after she’d finished with Worthington, maybe she could hang up her emotional baggage in the back of the closet with her unflattering wardrobe. Maybe she could risk looking for someone to share her life with. There had to be some men out there who would enrich her life instead of hopelessly complicating it. All she had to do was to find one.

A shiver of pleasure skittered over her skin as an image of Richard filled her mind. What would it be like to wake up in the morning next to him? The intriguing question crossed her mind. On the surface, Richard seemed like he could be the ideal man for her. He was built like the living embodiment of every sexual fantasy she’d ever had. He was easy to talk to, with a sense of humor that appealed to her, and he was perfect financially.

The sound of the clock as it struck half past the hour jerked her out of her thoughts. If she didn’t hurry up, she’d be late, and he might not wait.

After dressing, she grabbed a cab. She had the driver drop her off a block from the museum so that she could casually walk up. She didn’t want Richard to think she had been standing around, waiting for him.

To her relief, Richard was already there when she arrived. She paused slightly behind a woman pushing a double baby stroller and studied him as he stared out into the street, clearly waiting for a taxi to pull up.

Compulsively, her eyes ran over him. He was wearing a pair of cream chinos, a pale blue T-shirt and a white linen jacket that made his shoulders seem even broader. His dark hair was slightly disheveled from the wind and her fingertips tingled with a compulsion to touch it.

Richard turned, tensing when he caught sight of her. He felt the impact of her presence in every cell of his body. On the way over he’d told himself that his memory had exaggerated her appeal, but clearly it hadn’t. He still found her physically fascinating. She drew him in on some instinctive level that totally bypassed rational thought.

Okay, so he was sexually attracted to her. There was nothing wrong with that. He was a free adult male. There was no reason for him not to explore that attraction. Especially considering that his interest had to be reciprocated or she wouldn’t have accepted his invitation to dinner. And she’d accepted it without knowing who he really was. Normally, he never knew if a woman liked him or his considerable bank balance, but with Maggie, he knew he didn’t have to wonder. She didn’t have a clue as to his net worth and she still wanted to go out with him. He was looking forward to the novel experience of just being an average man.

“Hi,” she said when she reached him.

“Good evening.” He took her arm and started down the steps toward the street.

“Did Worthington show before you left?” she asked.

“No one came before I left,” he said honestly.

A block away from the museum, he paused in front of a restaurant. “Is this the place you were talking about?”

“No, I’ve never been here.” She read the menu posted beside the door and barely suppressed a wince. There were no prices listed.

“See anything you like?”

Maggie stared blankly at the menu as she tried to decide what to do. Business lunches with clients had taught her that restaurants that didn’t post their prices were expensive. Very expensive. And she most emphatically didn’t want Richard to remember their date as one that had cost him an arm and a leg. On the other hand, she didn’t want to imply that he couldn’t afford it. If the dating articles she’d read were right, men tended to have surprisingly fragile egos when it came to money.

To her relief, Richard provided the answer himself. “Don’t you like French cuisine?” he asked.

“No,” Maggie lied without a qualm. “They eat some very strange parts of animals, and I’m always worried about what might show up in a sauce. That place I mentioned is only a little farther and it’s…” She scrambled to come up with an acceptable synonym for cheaper and failed.

Richard stared at her with a feeling of unreality as he suddenly realized what the problem was. She was actually worried about what this place would cost. He couldn’t ever remember any woman trying to save him money. On the contrary, they were usually trying to separate him from large chunks of it.

Should he tell her who he really was now? That would certainly take care of her worries. But it would also change the way she responded to him, and he was enjoying being treated like a normal man too much. Not only that but also he needed more time to convince her that he wasn’t the ogre that office gossip had painted him.

No, he’d stick to his original plan and tell her his real identity when the evening was over, he finally decided. After he’d thoroughly kissed her good-night.

Chapter Three

“Here’s that place I mentioned,” Maggie said.

Richard peered inside. It was only half-full, so getting a table wouldn’t be a problem. “Looks good to me,” he said.

Opening the door, he ushered her inside. The man at the bar gestured them toward the tables, and Maggie chose one well away from the door so that she wouldn’t get hit with cool air every time it opened.

“May I get you something to drink?” The waitress who had materialized by their table was staring at Richard as if she’d suddenly hit the jackpot.

“A glass of white wine,” Maggie said, feeling a gust of anger when the woman’s attention never wavered from Richard. She wanted to post a sign on him that said Taken—Keep Your Hands Off! And Eyes, Too. Maggie watched the waitress literally devour him with her gaze.

But to Maggie’s surprise, Richard didn’t even seem to notice the woman’s obvious interest. Was it because he was so used to attracting feminine attention or because he had the good manners not to flirt with one woman while he was out with another? She didn’t know, and it was hardly the kind of question she could ask. It would appear that there were some pitfalls to dating a fabulous-looking man, she thought. But in Richard’s case, it was worth it.

After the waitress had brought their drink orders, Maggie stole a quick look at Richard over the rim of her glass of wine. He was eating the appetizers the waitress had left with a single-minded concentration that bespoke imminent starvation.

A twinge of tenderness flashed through her at his absorbed expression. He was so gorgeous, and yet he seemed totally unaware of his looks. Was it normal for a man to be that oblivious to his physical appearance? She didn’t have enough experience to tell. She’d only had one date with a man who couldn’t even approach Richard for looks, and that had been a total disaster.

The man had been a coworker who, after ignoring her for the six months he’d been with the company, had suddenly asked her out. She’d spent the incomprehensible concert on modern music he’d taken her to trying to figure out why. She’d found out afterward when he’d mentioned, with elaborate casualness, that he had this design problem with his program and asked if she could help him solve it.

Strangely, finding out that he only wanted to use her hadn’t even hurt that much because the whole evening had had a surrealistic feel to it. As if he were some celluloid character from a bad movie who had been temporarily animated.

Richard glanced up and asked, “Why the pensive look?”

“Just thinking,” she muttered as she frantically searched her memory for something to say. Something that would capture his interest and convince him that, if she wasn’t exactly a brilliant conversationalist, she was, at least, a passable one. A sense of frustration filled her as her mind refused to come up with a single idea from all those articles on dating that she’d consumed for the purpose of fascinating Worthington, if she could ever get him to ask her out.

Finally, one bit of advice rose to the surface of her muddled thoughts. People, be they men or women, liked to talk about themselves, so ask a leading question.

“What made you go into plumbing?” she blurted out. It might not be scintillating conversation, but it was a start. Anything was better than a pregnant silence.

A flush of heat poured through her at the thought of pregnancy of any kind. Of being in Richard’s strong arms. Of being held close to his broad chest. Of…

“My father was in construction and he got me my first job when I was thirteen.” Richard told her the absolute truth. His father was in construction. He owned one of the biggest firms on the West Coast, and from the time Richard had turned thirteen, his father had demanded that he earn all his spending money by working on various construction projects in the Bay Area.

“Thirteen?! That was awfully young to be around all that heavy equipment.”

“Illegal, too.” Richard chuckled. “I used to have to disappear when the building inspectors showed up.”

“You could have been hurt.” The very idea appalled her. What kind of man would allow his son to do anything like that? Apparently, one who was no more caring than her own father had been.

“It wasn’t dangerous. I worked on one-story homes. Dad took good care of me.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.