Adelle’s question had Wes mentally shaking himself. Vivian’s personal life was no concern of his. If any of her matches turned out to be cads, then that would be her problem.
“Yes, there was. Concerning my self-test of My Perfect Match, you can inform the media outlets I’ll be starting tomorrow. Oh, and you might also relay the message that Vivian will also be using the app—to find her perfect man,” he added drily.
Adelle looked at him with dismay. “Vivian? And you approve of that?”
Wes frowned. “Why would I disapprove?”
“Well, why indeed?” she asked with a smirk. “That sweet little thing thrown out there among all those wolves? I shudder to think who she might get tangled up with.”
Wes found it hard to imagine Vivian getting tangled up in the bedsheets with any man. She was too prim and calculating to have such a reckless encounter. “Believe me, Adelle, sweet little Vivian, as you call her, knows exactly what she’s doing.”
With a roll of her eyes, the secretary left the room, and Wes turned his attention to the phone in his hand. Before he could scroll through the call log, the face lit up with another call.
Seeing it was Ben, he drew in a bracing breath and took a seat. No doubt his twin had already heard about Wes’s declaration to use the dating app and was rolling on the floor with laughter. Well, Ben could do all the goading he wanted, Wes thought as he swiped to answer the call. When all was said and done, presenting his brother with a hefty sales number from My Perfect Match would shut him up.
*
When Vivian got back to Research and Development, George and Justine were waiting at her cubicle. From the guarded looks on their faces, she could tell they’d watched the live remote.
Holding up a hand to ward off their remarks, she said, “You don’t have to tell me. I was a complete disaster.”
George gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “It wasn’t all that bad.”
“Not at all,” Justine chimed in. “And you looked great with your hair like that.”
Vivian shot her a confused look, then quickly patted the top of her hair. “Like what? Is it all mussed up?”
“No,” Justine said with a giggle. “The way it’s tucked behind your ear. Gives you a really chic look.”
Just the thought of Wes’s infuriating remarks had Vivian quickly shaking her hair loose. “My hair was—just a mistake. And my mouth was even worse,” she added with a groan of misery. “Every word that passed my lips made me sound like an idiot! I’ve probably ruined any hope that My Perfect Match will be a big seller.”
“I wouldn’t think that,” George spoke up. “Uh, so what did Mr. Robinson say afterward?”
Before Vivian could answer George’s question, Justine pelted her with another.
“Probably angry, huh?”
Exhaling a long breath, Vivian moved past her coworkers and practically flopped into her desk chair. “Not exactly. I mean, Wes—uh, Mr. Robinson—isn’t the type to show much emotion. Have you two ever seen him angry?”
George and Justine both shook their heads.
Justine said, “We’re not as lucky as you, Viv. We rarely meet with the man.”
“I’m fine not to meet with him,” George put in. “Makes me nervous to have to talk to the boss.”
Justine made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Technically, he’s not our boss, George.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” George said drily. “You mess up with Wes Robinson and you’ll be outta here.”
“His twin, Ben, is the new COO. And from what I hear, Wes was pretty hacked off that he didn’t get the job.”
Her nerves already frazzled, Vivian massaged the pain gathering in the middle of her forehead. “Justine, please, give it a rest. Anybody in this building with the name Robinson is our boss. Plain and simple. Now if you two will excuse me, I need to get to work.”
“Oh? Orders from our boss?” Justine asked slyly.
Dropping her hand, Vivian looked at her coworkers. She might as well let them in on her plan, she decided. They were going to hear about it sooner or later anyway.
“Not exactly. I’m signing up on My Perfect Match. The quicker, the better.”
“What?” George stared at her with real concern.
Justine giggled. “You? On My Perfect Match? Are you kidding, Viv?”
“Not in the least. Wes is willing to give it a try. So am I.”
The concern on George’s face grew deeper as he walked over to Vivian and looked down at her. “Are you doing this just because he is?”
Was she? When Vivian had first come up with the concept of My Perfect Match, she’d certainly not been creating the app for her own personal use. In spite of everything she’d said to Wes, she still wanted to meet her suitors the old-fashioned way. After that, she’d make the decision whether they were completely compatible or not. But when Wes had insisted he was actually going to use the app, she realized she had to step up to the plate and do the same.
“If a person isn’t willing to use her own product, George, what kind of impression is that going to give the public? I’ve got to show Wes and everyone that I believe in this thing.”
“Good thing you’re not a casket maker,” Justine quipped.
George shot the other woman a tired look, then shook his head at Vivian. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Viv?”
To answer his question, Vivian picked up her smartphone and scrolled through the pages of applications until she found My Perfect Match.
“I’ve never been more certain. I’m going to find the man of my dreams. Our likes and dislikes will match precisely. We’ll have no choice but to fall in love and live happily ever after.”
Justine let out a mocking groan. “Oh, please. That’s enough to send me back to work.”
George must have had the same thought because he turned to follow Justine out of the small cubicle.
“What? No words of wisdom from you, George?”
Looking over his shoulder, the burly redhead frowned at her. “All I can say is good luck, Vivian. You’re going to need it.”
Scowling back at him, she asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you’ve set your goals mighty high.”
“Somewhere out there is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. And My Perfect Match is going to find him for me.”
“Hmm. Well, if that’s the case, then Wes Robinson is going to find the woman he wants to share the rest of his life with. So this app should make you both very happy.”
Happy? Oh, yes, Vivian thought, proving Wes wrong was going to make her ecstatic.
Chapter Four
“Vivian, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
How many times had she heard that in the past two days? The question was becoming a broken record, Vivian thought.
Not bothering to look over at her sister, Michelle, who was standing a few steps away, watching as Vivian applied a coat of mascara to her already dark lashes. Normally she didn’t use a great deal of makeup when going on a date, but tonight was special. Or at least she was treating it as such. Tonight was her first date generated by My Perfect Match and she wanted to make a good impression.
“I’m going on a dinner date,” she answered, trying her best to sound casual even though her nerves were balled in a knot.
“With someone you’ve never met before.” Michelle shook her head in dismay. “You’re far braver than me, sis.”
She wasn’t brave, Vivian thought. Determined was more like it. “I have to start somewhere. And it’s just dinner.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you should’ve never made such a wager with Wes Robinson,” she argued. “And just what are you going to get if you prove the app works? A bonus from Robinson Tech? Bragging rights?”
Vivian turned away from the dresser mirror to glance at her sister. Three years older, Michelle was a few inches taller and several pounds lighter than Vivian. Michelle had curly chestnut hair
and pale, porcelain skin, and Vivian had always considered her sister to be far prettier than her. And as a high school art teacher, Michelle was far better at communicating with people.
Using the mascara wand to punctuate her words, Vivian said, “Neither of those things. I’m going to get a man. One I can build a family with. One I can depend on to be around for the long haul.”
Michelle groaned. “Sis, you ought to consider making a job change. Computers can do a lot of things, but they can’t keep a man faithful or responsible.”
“Maybe not. But they can weed out the worst of the worst. Besides, I don’t exactly see you making any wedding plans.” Vivian turned back to the mirror and carefully dabbed on a small amount of lip gloss. Behind her, Michelle walked over to the bed, where Vivian had laid out a brown mid-calf skirt, a white shirt and a camel-beige cardigan to go over it. No doubt her sister was wondering why she’d not chosen something more colorful to wear.
“You’re the one who wants a husband,” Michelle reasoned. “I enjoy being single and independent—like Mom. When the right man comes along, I’ll know it. I don’t need a computer to tell me.”
Vivian’s freshly glossed lips pressed into a thin line. “Thanks for the vote of confidence in my work,” she said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “And open your eyes, sis. Mom doesn’t like being single. She’s simply too afraid to try marriage again.”
“Bah! After the way Dad treated her, she has no interest in being married. If you ask me, she was relieved after she and Dad divorced.”
Vivian sighed. “They had nothing in common.”
“Only three kids,” Michelle said wryly.
Vivian stepped into the skirt and zipped it up, then reached for the shirt. “And we obviously weren’t enough to hold them together.”
Michelle grimaced. “Well, no. Not when one spouse goes looking for love elsewhere.”
Vivian stared at her as she dealt with the buttons on her shirt. “What are you saying?”
Michelle shrugged, then cast a sheepish look at her sister, as though she wished she’d not mentioned anything regarding their father.
“Dad was always on the road,” she said. “He had a wandering eye and Mom knew it.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“No,” Michelle admitted. “But he married very quickly after the divorce was final.”
“Some men are needy.”
“Exactly my point.”
Shaking her head, Vivian said, “I really don’t need to hear this sort of thing tonight, Michelle. In fifteen minutes, I’m going to open the door to a man I’ve never met before, and I don’t want to be eyeing him as though he’s already under suspicion.”
“Oh!” Michelle glanced at her wristwatch. “He’s going to be here in fifteen minutes? I’d better go. I don’t want to be a distraction. Besides, I have a stack of test papers to grade.”
She hurried around to the other side of the bed and smacked a kiss on Vivian’s cheek. “Good luck, sissy. Let me know how things go with the search for Mr. Right. And in case you don’t know—I’m proud of you.”
*
Twenty minutes later, Vivian stood at the open door of her apartment, her neck bent backward as she peered up at her first date. She’d seen shorter basketball players, she decided, but with his extremely thin frame, he’d be crushed the first time he attempted to make a goal. As for his face, she couldn’t tell much about his eyes. They were hidden behind a pair of thick-lensed glasses. The rest of his features were lean to the point of being bony and as solemn as a man who’d just received a death sentence.
The app considered this man an attractive match for her?
Remember, Viv, this isn’t about attraction. This is all about likes and dislikes.
“Good evening,” she greeted him, hiding her dismay as best she could. “Are you Paul Sullivan?”
He gave her a slight nod. “Yes. Are you Vivian Blair?”
“I am.”
“Good. I wasn’t sure the GPS in my vehicle was working properly. And the signal on my cell phone loses its mind on this side of town.”
And based on her first impression of this man, before this night was over, there was a real possibility that Vivian might lose hers.
Smiling, she said, “Well, you’re here, and on time, too. If you’ll step inside, I’ll get my things and we’ll head on to the restaurant.”
*
By the time Vivian and Paul had finished their salads and started on the main course, Vivian had learned he was an IT technician for a large insurance company. He had four brothers and one sister, all of whom lived in Michigan. Two years ago, his current job had lured him to Austin, but so far the Texas heat had caused him to suffer several heat strokes. A fact that had him dreading the coming spring.
“Perhaps you’ll get acclimatized soon,” Vivian offered on a hopeful note.
“I doubt it. Everyone tells me you have to be tough to live in Texas.”
And Paul Sullivan definitely didn’t fit that category, she thought as she pushed her fork into a fillet of grilled tilapia.
“Well, the natives are born that way,” she said, her mind drifting to Wes. Was he out on the city tonight, she wondered, squiring around his first date? What sort of woman would the app match him with? Some sort of computer genius? Or maybe a refined woman of the arts who was familiar with his social circles?
Paul’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“Yes, that’s why I’ll probably be heading back home to Michigan soon. I’m afraid another summer here might kill me.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
He peered candidly at her. “You mean you wouldn’t be willing to move there—with me?”
Vivian nearly choked on a bite of fish. “Uh—no. Texas is my home.”
He looked completely dumbfounded. “Oh. But I thought—you see, the app says the two of us are perfectly aligned. That means we’d be happy together no matter where we live.”
Oh, Lord, if this was the best the app could offer, she was in big trouble.
“Paul, I think—”
She paused, deciding it would be useless to explain that being technically matched to someone didn’t necessarily mean instant commitment. It would only burst his hopeful bubble. And wasn’t that what My Perfect Match really stood for? she asked herself. The hope of finding someone to love?
“Yes?” he asked eagerly.
Smiling wanly, she said, “I was just going to say I think I won’t have dessert tonight. But feel free to enjoy some if you’d like.”
*
Across town, in a skyline restaurant located in one of the finest hotels in Austin, Wes stared across the table for two at the woman sipping a fruity cocktail. Earlier this evening as he’d showered and changed, he’d been thinking he’d rather be rolled over by a piece of highway equipment than meet Miss Perfect Match.
But later, when the hostess had shown his match to his table, he’d nearly fallen out of his chair. The expectations of his first date had vacillated wildly between a career woman with a scientific mind and a blonde bimbo with an ample show of cleavage. Mercifully, Julia’s appearance was neither.
Pretty and friendly, she could even carry on a decent conversation. Perhaps Vivian was on to something with this compatible thing, Wes thought.
Vivian. Earlier today, she’d sent him an email message informing him she was going on her first date tonight. Wes had replied that he’d be doing the same. Now, as he sipped his drink and the smooth whiskey slid warmly down his throat, he wondered where his developer was tonight and what sort of man the app had picked for her. A muscle-bound athlete with roaming hands, or a suave businessman with a line of phony charm? As far as he was concerned, either image was wrong for her. But then, he didn’t think like a computer. Even though his family business was all about the mechanical brains.
“Wes, have I already lost you?”
His date’s question brought him out of his thoughts, and he mentally shook himself as he gave
her the most charming smile he could muster.
“Sorry, Julia, I was thinking about a project at work.”
“Wondering if it will succeed?”
“Something like that.”
Smiling provocatively over the rim of her cocktail glass, she said, “I’m certain whatever you’re working on will be a winner. The app implies you’re a brilliant man.”
The app might consider him brilliant, but apparently his father didn’t, Wes thought ruefully. At least, not brilliant enough to handle being COO of Robinson Tech. And Vivian—well, she believed his ideas about love were totally ignorant.
But why the hell should he care what Vivian thought about him? She was just a company developer. One of many. And as for his father, he might be one of a kind, but he was the kind Wes didn’t want to emulate.
“I’m not sure my work will turn out to be a winner,” he said smoothly. “But tonight I feel like one.”
Julie laughed, and as Wes drained the last of his drink, a vision of Vivian’s disapproving face entered his mind.
She wouldn’t go for a line like that, Wes thought. No, that sweet little thing, as Adelle called her, was too smart and stiff to be swayed by a man’s glib tongue.
Or was she? The man she was with tonight was supposed to be her kind of guy. He might know the exact words to say to soften her defenses and lure her into his bed.
Bed? No! Not Vivian! For some reason his mind refused to conjure up such a vision.
“Wes? Are you okay?”
He blinked and then, realizing she’d caught him daydreaming for a second time, he felt a wash of embarrassment creep up his neck.
“Sure,” he said with feigned innocence. “Why?”
The young woman’s gaze zeroed in on the squatty tumbler he was holding. “You’re gripping your glass so hard, I’m afraid it’s going to shatter in your hand.”
Practically dropping the glass to the tabletop, Wes used his forearm to shove it aside, then forced himself to lean attentively toward her.
“Sorry,” he apologized again. “I’m just not—myself this evening. But I promise to give you my undivided attention for the remainder of it. Now, tell me all about yourself.”
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