“It’s not your reputation at stake.”
“One million dollars. Each.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ll pay you a million dollars for each of my friends if they marry a woman you pick out for them. If they both marry your matches, I’ll give you a million-dollar bonus.”
Three million dollars?
Shock poured through her. She may have gasped. Most people would with an offer like that. It was a dream-come-true amount. She could sell her condo and buy a house in the Marina District. Not next year or the year after that, but as soon as the money cleared in her bank account.
She placed her hand on her knee to keep her leg from jiggling. That gave her a moment to calm herself. “You’ve got my attention.”
“I filled out the forms for my two friends.” Blaise removed a folder from his computer bag. “I understand you don’t want to travel. I assume because of your family, but you must come to Portland to meet them. I’ll give you a one-hundred-thousand-dollar retainer. That should cover your expenses and time. I’m assuming you have a contract where you can change the amounts per your fee schedule.”
His willingness to pay so much stunned her. It also didn’t lessen her misgivings. “You want to win that badly?”
Blaise raised his chin. “I will win. It’s a matter of when. With your help, it’ll happen sooner.”
She wasn’t impressed by such a display of arrogance. Well, maybe a little. “Winning isn’t everything.”
He pushed back his shoulders. “Henry said the same thing, so let’s agree to disagree.”
She read through the paperwork. Blaise had filled out a form for each of his friends. Thoroughly. Yes, she wanted a larger house and doing this for Blaise would make that happen.
But this wasn’t only about three million dollars. Her company’s reputation was at stake. What if he was hiding something? About one or both men?
Hadley needed to make sure she could find them wives before she agreed. “I’ll need to meet the two men before I say yes.”
“You don’t trust me when I say they’re marriage material?”
“I don’t know you.”
His lips thinned.
“You have a vested interest in the outcome of the matchmaking beyond that of a caring friend,” she continued, speaking at a fast clip. She hated how he made her nervous. “So, yes, I need to see for myself what your friends are like.”
“You don’t mince words and you’re passionate about your work. I like that.” Laughter glinted in Blaise’s eyes, but something that looked like respect shone there, too. “Come to Portland on Sunday. You can meet Dash and Wes then.”
Hadley straightened. “This Sunday?”
He nodded as if she could simply drive across the Bay Bridge to get there. Not fly there when she was due in New York on Monday morning.
“I’ll invite everyone over to watch football,” he added before she could speak. “Eat. Drink. Cheer on our teams. We’ve done it before.”
“What will people think if I’m there?” she asked.
“My friends bring people over all the time.”
“What about you?” she asked.
His gaze locked on hers. “I may not want a relationship or marriage, but I date casually.”
She wondered about his type. Most likely sexy blondes with perfect hair and figures—the opposite of her. Dessert was her favorite food group. The extra sugar in her diet showed, but she wasn’t about to starve herself to be a size two or four. Even six was pushing it because she enjoyed eating too much.
He raised a brow, the cocky gesture skyrocketing her pulse rate. “So, Sunday?”
No sat on the tip of her tongue until she pictured the Avila Street house from the Internet with four bedrooms and three-and-a-half bathrooms. There was even a backyard—albeit a small one. They could adopt a dog from the local animal rescue to keep Tiny company during the day.
Yes, no. Yes, no.
Logic battled with her heart, but practicality won over both. “I’ll be there, but after I meet your friends, I reserve the right to say no.”
“Deal, but bring whatever contract we’ll need to sign to go forward.” Blaise grinned as if he’d already won the bet. “Just in case you say yes.”
Hadley was tempted to say yes now, but she couldn’t. Finding someone a spouse was hard work. Many of her interviews weren’t to take on clients, but with people who could be potential matches for them.
She skimmed over Blaise’s paperwork. His two friends lived in Portland. Both had founded tech companies. One was in his mid-thirties. The other was in his late-twenties. It wouldn’t be the first time she had clients not in the Bay Area or New York.
Finding wives for these men would be a means to an end. Could she, her sister, and the kids continue living in the condo? Yes, but a four-bedroom house would be more comfortable. That was her goal, what she was saving for.
Images from the house on the internet flashed through her brain. That was what she wanted—what her family needed.
So why was Hadley feeling so unsure? And why didn’t she know if she wanted Sunday to go well so she could say yes or be a complete disaster so she could say no and never see Blaise Mortenson again?
CHAPTER SEVEN
After Blaise arrived in Portland, he found himself in one meeting after another because two from Monday had been crammed in between others. A typical day, except—he couldn’t focus. He adjusted his glasses—his eyes needed time to recover before he wore contacts again—but his vision wasn’t the problem.
He was distracted.
Which wasn’t like him.
He quickened his pace. A few minutes alone in his office would help him regroup.
Trevor sat at his desk, staring at his computer monitor.
Blaise walked past his assistant and reached for the door handle.
“The contract you wanted is on your desk.” Trevor glanced up at him. “I emailed you a pdf in case you prefer an electronic version.”
“Thanks.”
Trevor studied him. “You seem out of it. Do you need me to get you anything? Make you a doctor’s appointment?”
The guy was perceptive. The quality could be both positive and negative. “Thanks, but I’m just not ready for Monday.”
Trevor’s mouth tightened. “It’s Tuesday.”
Oh, right. “My Monday was cut short, so that’s where my brain is.”
A partial truth. His mind wasn’t here today. It was in San Francisco.
With Hadley.
“Was the trip to see Ms. Lowell worthwhile?” Trevor asked.
“Yes.” More so than Blaise imagined it would be. “But nothing is firm yet.”
That, he hoped, would happen on Sunday.
Hadley would get her money. He’d win the bet. Wes and Dash would thank Blaise for their wives.
Feeling better, he entered his office and closed the door behind him. It was only a matter of time.
When he’d mentioned the amount he was willing to pay Hadley, dollar signs had appeared in her pretty blue eyes. The way she’d gasped and then licked her lips showed her interest, but surprisingly, she hadn’t given in to temptation.
That annoyed him and impressed him.
She was considering her company and what this might mean in the long-term, not doing a money grab.
All he needed was for Sunday to go well. He didn’t care who showed up as long as Wes and Dash were there.
Which reminded Blaise.
He sat behind his desk and sent a text to Wes.
Blaise: Did you see my message in the group chat?
Wes: I did.
Blaise: Will you be there?
Wes: Thinking about it.
Blaise: Just say yes.
Wes: I was thinking of spending the weekend in Hood Hamlet.
Hood Hamlet, a small alpine-inspired town on Mount Hood, wasn’t far—an hour-and-a-half drive from Portland, but that wouldn’t do.
Blaise: Come home early on
Sunday or go next weekend.
Wes: What’s the big deal? The season’s just starting.
Blaise: We haven’t gotten together in a while.
Wes: Mason is still on his honeymoon.
Blaise: Then we can do this again when he’s back.
Wes: Fine, you convinced me.
Blaise: See you on Sunday.
The contract Trevor mentioned was on Blaise’s desk, but first, he wanted to ask Dash if he could hire Iris to plan the get-together. Wonderkid’s high school best friend cooked, cleaned, and ran his personal life. More than once, and jokingly, Blaise had offered to double Iris’s salary if she’d come work for him, but she claimed friendship trumped money. At least Dash let her help others when needed. Blaise needed her pulled-pork sliders on Sunday. He typed another text.
Blaise: Did you see my message in the group chat?
Dash: No. Which group chat?
Blaise: The one you started with the six of us.
Dash: Sorry, mind elsewhere.
Blaise: On work or women?
Dash: Huh?
Blaise: Okay, work.
Dash: Always work.
Blaise: So football and food on Sunday?
Dash: Want Iris to cater?
Blaise: You’re a mind reader.
Dash: Yours is easy to read.
Blaise: So Iris?
Dash: I’ll tell her to call you.
Blaise: Does this mean you’ll be there?
Dash: Since you’re stealing my cook for the day, I have to show up or I’ll starve.
Blaise: See you on Sunday.
Now, Blaise was getting somewhere. He had the second person he needed to be at his house and a cook extraordinaire to prepare the food. The only person missing—his matchmaker. Might as well check in with Hadley, too.
Blaise: Sunday is a go. Wes and Dash will be there.
HL: Great.
Blaise: Do you have any questions?
HL: I’ll let you know after I finish my research.
Blaise: I’m here when you’re ready.
He waited for a reply but none came. She must be busy like him. Time to read through the contract.
The rest of the day, he kept waiting for her to reply. She didn’t. Wednesday came and then Thursday. No text arrived from Hadley.
Was she still doing her research?
Blaise wanted to call, but he didn’t want to come across as a creeper.
By Friday, he still hadn’t heard from Hadley. On his way back to his office, he pulled out his cell phone. His patience had disappeared.
Contacting her wasn’t crossing a line. He needed to discuss her visit on Sunday. That was business-related. Not personal.
Forget a text. Blaise would call. He clicked on her number.
One ring.
Her voice message announcement played. “You’ve reached Hadley Lowell. Please leave your name and number, and I’ll call you back.”
As Blaise disconnected from the call, he clenched his jaw. The other day when he’d texted people, he’d reached everyone when they were available to reply immediately. That wasn’t the norm for his friends. Maybe it wasn’t for Hadley, either. No reason to be frustrated. She would see he’d called and get in touch.
Except she didn’t.
Each time he checked his list of calls and texts without seeing her name, his chest tightened.
A stupid reaction but he couldn’t help it.
After listening to HR present about a new workplace inclusion training, he returned to his office. Still no reply from Hadley.
Okay, he hadn’t left a message, but the call notification was often enough to get a reply. At least with his friends. Given she was flying to Portland this weekend, she should want to touch base and firm up plans. Unless…
Something happened to her or one of the kids.
His stomach churned.
He hit her number on his contact list.
One ring. Two… “Hello?”
Hearing her voice loosened his bunched muscles. “It’s Blaise.”
“What’s up?” she asked as if hearing from him was no big deal.
It wasn’t a big deal. Not really. Except he needed his pulse to calm. “I want to touch base about Sunday.”
“I’ve booked my flight.”
Blaise released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. One step closer to winning the bet, but that wasn’t on his mind as much as… “If you’re flying in on Saturday, I could show you around. Take you out to dinner.”
Ugh. Could he be any more obvious or awkward? If he kept this up, he would be competing against Dash for being the nerdiest with women.
“Thanks, but I’m not arriving until Sunday.”
Blaise had no reason to be disappointed. She didn’t need to be in town until then and wouldn’t have to spend the night at a hotel. He had plenty of space, but offering his guest room would cross a line. The least he could do was be a friendly party host. “Do you need a ride from the airport?”
“No, thanks. I’m renting a car.” She didn’t miss a beat answering. “Text me your home address when you get a chance.”
The rejection stung, which it shouldn’t. This wasn’t personal. “Did you finish your research?”
“Yes. I don’t have questions about Wes and Dash, but I do have one about Sunday.”
“Shoot.”
Silence filled the line.
That was strange. “Hadley?”
“How should I introduce myself to your friends, especially Wes and Dash?”
Blaise leaned back in his chair. “Be yourself. If someone asks how we met, tell them Henry, which is the truth since he recommended you.”
“Okay, I’ll do that.” Relief sounded in her voice. “I didn’t want to lie to anyone.”
“There’s no reason to do that. You’re in Portland for business.” He wanted to put her at ease. “But no one will care why you’re there.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.” His confidence brimmed. This would work out as he planned. “Nothing to worry about. You’ll see.”
* * *
A quarter to noon on Sunday, Hadley stood at Blaise’s front door. She straightened the bottom of her blouse—a Boho-inspired shirt she’d borrowed from Fallon—over a pair of dark jeans. The brown Chelsea boots coordinated with her crossover purse. It had taken her two hours to figure out what to wear.
Ridiculous.
The Craftsman-style house—okay, mansion might be a better descriptor—was in a swanky neighborhood. Nothing she hadn’t seen in San Francisco or New York, yet her muscles twitched as if preparing for a race.
Back to the driver’s side of her rental car.
She laughed because being so nervous wasn’t like Hadley. Her clients were the elite. She knew the personality type better than most thanks to an ex-boyfriend, which was why she’d never been attracted to any of them.
Until Blaise.
Hadley clutched the handle of the gift bag she carried. Anything she felt for him was a crush, nothing more. Even if he wasn’t a potential client, the difference between their worlds was vast.
Different galaxies.
This wasn’t a fairy tale like her niece and nephew enjoyed watching. Nothing would ever happen between them.
She owned a business that paid her six figures and allowed her a condo in one of the most expensive real estate areas in the country. But he was willing to pay her two million dollars. Three, if she counted the bonus.
That kind of money was the stuff of dreams.
Yet it made their positions clearer—she would work for him. He was king of the hill, and she was a worker ant.
Which was why Hadley was here.
Not to see Blaise.
Meeting his two friends was the reason.
Ring the doorbell.
She reached toward the button, but her hand froze, hovering inches away.
Misgivings swamped her.
Finding a person their perfect match without them bein
g part of the process would be difficult. She could only ask so much. Based on her research, the two guys weren’t stupid.
Her breaths rushed out in huffs.
Dash Cabot wasn’t only the smartest one in the room. He was also one of the most intelligent people on this planet. He might be a nerd, but he dated. None of his relationships, however, appeared serious.
Wes Lockhart had graduated with an undergrad degree in engineering and an MBA. He was old money like Henry Davenport, but Wes had also been sick. He dated many women. One name had been mentioned more than the others, but she’d disappeared from his life around the time of his cancer diagnosis.
What if Wes and Dash figured out what Blaise wanted her to do? Would she and her company become the scapegoats? Billionaires had deep pockets with teams of lawyers. She didn’t.
Nerves knocked louder than kids trick-or-treating on Halloween.
The situation had disaster written all over it.
If she left now, no one would know.
Three million dollars.
Like an echo in a canyon, the dollar amount swirled through her pounding head. She forced herself to slow her breathing. She needed the money to help her family. If she left—
The front door opened.
So much for making an escape.
“I saw you on the security camera.” His warm smile turned her weak legs into linguini. “I wasn’t sure if the doorbell was broken or if you were going to bolt.”
His rich voice kicked her pulse up a notch. Or maybe it was how he was rocking the casual look in his khaki shorts, maroon Henley, and bare feet.
“Not bolting.” She was breathless. That would work. “Catching my breath.”
Before she hyperventilated, which could still happen.
She should have known a place like this would have a security system. That wasn’t the worst part. She hated that her memory, even though she’d thought about Blaise all week, hadn’t done his appearance justice.
Had the guy gotten hotter since Tuesday?
He raised an eyebrow, giving his features a rakish effect she shouldn’t find so attractive. “Winded from your walk to the front door?”
Busted, but unless he called her out, she was admitting to nothing. “I’m good.”
The Wife Finder Page 8
