Lazer Focused: A Jet City Billionaire Romance (The Billionaire Matchmaker Series Book 1)

by Gina Robinson

  Now I was really intrigued. I grabbed the paperwork and skimmed it. I had enough business training to recognize a standard non-disclosure when I saw one. I picked up the pen, signed, and slid the paperwork back to him. "So? Talk. What is this top-secret business you want to do with a matchmaker?"

  He hesitated. "It's complicated and many-pronged. But it boils down to this—I need adventurous single women. Educated women looking to settle down and get married. Fifteen should be enough to begin with. But if the initial phase works, maybe more."

  I laughed. "The only problem will be narrowing the field to fifteen."

  "There's a catch."

  Why was there always a catch?

  "They need to be willing to relocate to Seattle. At least temporarily." He paused and looked me in the eye. "And I need you to come with them."

  My eyes flew wide open and my heart stopped. "What? Why?"

  He laughed. "Don't look so shocked. I don't want to lose you and your matchmaking skills to Man Jose. I'm offering to be your angel and fund the expansion of your matchmaking business to Seattle."

  Angel? He was a dark angel, if anything. But my traitorous heart pounded with excitement at the idea.

  "Seattle has some excellent matchmakers already." I studied him. "A city with as many billionaires per capita attracts them."

  He didn't look surprised. He nodded. "I know. But they don't bring their own women with them. Their model and styles don't match with what I have in mind. I have a much grander overall scheme. A matchmaking app, maybe even a franchise, you could be a part of."

  "What I do is very personalized." My pulse raced from being so near him. He looked delectable as he discussed his business ideas. I leaned back in my chair, trying to remain cool as I studied him. "It can't be cookie-cuttered."

  "I didn't mean to imply it could. But a new model of matchmaking could be established."

  I was excited on too many fronts, both personal and professional. I was trying to be professional, but my mind kept wandering back to his bed and my body was crying out for another shot of cuddle hormone. His strong, square hands were right in front of me. I'd never believed in a lot of touching too soon in a relationship. And this certainly wasn't a relationship. But I wanted him to hold my hand. My fingers itched to intertwine with his. Crazy.

  "Let's step back a second. While you were in Seattle, did you take any of the historical tours or visit any of the museums to learn about Seattle history?"

  I shook my head, amused. I wasn't a history buff. "That's not my particular field. I don't generally find mates for my clients in local museums, unless it's at a special event."

  "That's too bad," he said. "If you had, you would see where I'm headed. My office is on Mercer Street. I have quite a few friends who live on Mercer Island. Both the street and the island are named after one of Seattle's founding fathers, Asa Mercer.

  "In the mid-1800s, Seattle was a frontier seaport and logging town. The population was overwhelmingly male. This was just after the Civil War. The South and East had lost an entire generation of men, but were full of young widows and women, who now had little prospect of marrying.

  "Asa got the bright idea to import women to Seattle from the East. He got enough venture capital from desperate single men in Seattle to bring back four hundred and fifty potential brides. Due to some bad PR he got in the East just before he departed—it was a long sail around the horn in those days before the Panama Canal—he left for Seattle with only around forty.

  "It was a failed plan. Even four hundred and fifty brides would have been a drop in the marriage mart bucket. But it was only supposed to be the first trip." He grinned. "The men understandably lost faith. No brides and their money gone. He couldn't raise enough for a second trip. He did, rather selfishly, secure a bride for himself. Another strike against him getting more money. The poor bastard looked too self-serving. There was some understandable discontent over that.

  "In my case, that shouldn't be a problem. I'm not looking for a wife, as you know." He held my gaze.

  Was he still flirting with me?

  "You want to be the modern-day Asa Mercer? Get a street named after you. Maybe an island. Let the city throw a parade for you by bringing fifteen potential brides to Seattle in modern day? That's not a drop. That's a microscopic speck."

  He was so cute with his little plan. If I had been a more egotistical woman, I would have thought this was a lame excuse to get closer to me.

  "Yes. Like old Asa, I want to solve Seattle's gender imbalance. But with a modern solution. I need the women to be beta testers." He pulled his phone from his pocket and put it on the desk between us. "This is why you signed the non-disclosure. My team has been developing this app."

  As I took the phone from him, he slid his chair closer to mine until our arms practically brushed. He leaned close and walked me through the app as he explained its functions. How it was a way for singles to find current pools of available members of the opposite sex at any given time. How they could go directly to where desirable people were hanging out and avoid the dead spots.

  Thinking of going to XYZ club? Bring it up on your app. You're a guy looking for a girl. Oops. No good. Only twenty eligible girls and sixty guys in the place. But over at ABC Bar there are two eligible girls for every guy. Better to head there.

  The app was impressive and slick. Totally top rate and classy. If I hadn't been distracted by the sensual smell of Lazer and the heat radiating off him, I might even have salivated a little. Was there a way I could use an app like this in my business?

  Over the last half-century, matchmakers had incorporated online dating and adapted their services because of it. Technology was going to keep evolving. And businesses, even those in the business of love, like mine, were going to have to keep adapting or die.

  Although I loved the app and the idea behind it, I was skeptical. "The app is beautiful. But…I don't see how I fit into your plans for it. I'm all for helping my Sweethartes—"

  "Your sweethearts?"

  "Sorry." I laughed a little nervously. I usually didn't use the term with anyone outside the office. It was too easy to forget myself with him.

  "That's what I privately call my clients." I spelled it out for him. "Anyway, I'm all for helping my Sweethartes meet their future spouses any way they can. I encourage them even to try online dating if they want. I offer coaching sessions and dating profile consultations to help them build the best profiles they can.

  "But I don't see how I fit into the app launch. I mean, I can certainly offer certain services. Getting clients past their broken relationships and bad dating habits, what I call Dating Declutter. I can make them over so they present their best-looking selves. Coach clients about how to make themselves approachable once they find a target-rich environment. Which is where I might fit in."

  He smiled at my terminology.

  "And give them relationship advice. But my main forte is doing all that screening for clients. My clients are very busy, successful people. They don't want to waste time finding dates on their own. They don't have time to fool around with unsuitable matches. People pretending to be other than what they are. Gold diggers. That kind of thing.

  "They want me using my expertise and connections to do the hard legwork for them. I'm sort of the dating game equivalent of a real estate agent.

  "The clients want me to act as their go-between. Set up dates when they don't have the time or are too shy or insecure or afraid of rejection. Shield them from rejection. Coach them on how to date better. They don't want to do it on their own. They want me to be their relationship therapist. Confessor. Personal event planner. That's why they hire me." I paused for a breath. "I'm not sure an app fits into my business model."

  He heard me out without interrupting. Once again, I felt that I had his complete and rapt attention. Who doesn't love to be listened to? It's totally sexy. And his expression? Completely flattering, as if he was impressed with everything I said.

  He nodded. "I've don
e my homework. I know what you do. I've even read your book."

  "Oh, that." I blushed. Dating Game, Set, Match had come out two years ago and skimmed the bottom of the New York Times list for a few weeks before slowly sliding into relative obscurity. I was immensely proud of it. And a little embarrassed by it. I'd gained a lot more matchmaking experience since then. It was probably time for a second edition. "So you know all my tricks? Or you think you do." I raised an eyebrow.

  "Never publish your trade secrets."

  I shrugged. "Who says I did?"

  He laughed. "Your record is impressive. Two hundred and fifty marriages in five years of business?"

  I nodded, flattered, again, that he'd taken the time to find the most up-to-date stats. Impressed he realized the magnitude of my accomplishment. The business of love is a tricky business.

  "You're an expert. I wanted to hear your opinion on our app."

  I hesitated and wondered who "our" referred to.

  "There's another thing," I said. "Your app sounds marvelous. In theory. Once it's caught on, it would be a huge success. But that's the catch. How do you get it to catch on?

  "You need a lot of people using it for it to be effective. Otherwise, if no one is using it, or very few people, what's the point? No man is going to want to cruise around Seattle looking for the one girl who has her app turned on. Or erroneously rejecting bar after bar as having no available women simply because nobody else is using the app. You have to somehow launch with a big pool of users."

  He lifted one eyebrow. His eyes were bright with excitement.

  "You've thought of that," I said, realizing just how sharp he was.

  "And now you know why I want to be the modern-day Asa Mercer. We need a publicity stunt. A big splash. A beautiful New York matchmaker breezes into town with a cache of gorgeous, eager-to-settle-down New York women and connections to more.

  "The girls have the app. My Seattle guys have the motivation. You have the relationship savvy. We show how well the app works by having success right out of the box. Lots of happy relationships formed."

  "If we get lucky," I said, "that's still leaving a lot to chance. Even if I coach the men and women, there's still too much trial and error in dating to guarantee quick early success."

  He smiled into my eyes again. "Exactly. Which is why we have to rig things in our favor. Those fifteen or so women I want you to bring? I have four close, lonely college buds who are suddenly looking to settle down. I want the women you bring to be good candidates for them."

  I stared at him. "Are you trying to hire me to play matchmaker for your friends?"

  He nodded. "I am. And I'm willing to pay your regular fees for each of the four. And a bonus for each that ends in marriage."

  I whistled. "You are certainly something."

  "I am, indeed." He made even a boast sexy.

  "How much of a bonus?" Look, I might be infatuated with Lazer, but I hadn't completely abandoned my business side. I'd learned early on that potential clients, particularly men, often offered bonuses as a way of getting even better, more personal, higher-priority service. They offered the bonuses out of the blue. As a matter of pride. And to show off their wealth and power. To impress me. And almost always at amounts in excess of anything I'd think of asking or charging. It was always better to let them lead with the amount.

  "Fifty thousand."

  We locked gazes.

  I hesitated, using a classic negotiating technique. If he was as shrew as I believed he was, he'd lowballed me on the first offer. He could go higher. I might lust for him, but there was no way he was getting the better of me in business. We were on my turf now. He may have been a billionaire, but I ran a multimillion-a-year business. If the answering look of challenge in his eyes was any indication, he expected me to negotiate. As I said, I'm good at reading people. Transacting business turned Lazer on. He admired people, women, who met his challenge.

  "Taking on four clients at once is a major amount of upfront work. And blind, without meeting them…I'll have to take your word that they're suitable for my clientele. That they're actually marriageable and not some kind of sociopaths."

  He didn't blink. "Sixty thousand and not a penny more."

  I narrowed my eyes. From the look on his face, it looked like it was time to fold and take the deal.

  I shrugged. "You're sure your friends are ready to settle down?"

  No matter how much money he offered, I wasn't going to set myself up for immediate failure. I had a reputation and success rate to uphold. Clients didn't flock to matchmakers who didn't have a good track record of making great matches.

  He made a rueful expression and nodded. "It appears so. Two of my best billionaire buddies took the plunge in the last year. I never would have expected it of Riggins." His frown was delightfully comical.

  "Now my college buds want to follow suit. Unfortunately. They're always ribbing me about money and what it can and can't buy. They don't believe money can buy them love. I'm out to prove them wrong." He laughed devilishly. "It's about time again for me to play best man for someone."

  I loved the way he laughed at himself. But I probed further. There had to be more to the story. Experience had taught me that men didn't usually suddenly decide to settle down for no reason.

  "Why now? Was there a precipitating event? There usually is when a man suddenly decides he's ready to get serious with someone. Someone you know die suddenly? Everyone else is getting married?"

  "The oldest of us just turned thirty. And his grandma, who was more like a mother to him than his mom, just passed away a few months ago. Before he'd produced a great-grandchild for her." Lazer paused, looking as impressed and spooked as if I was a mind reader. "And, yeah, just a few weeks ago a couple of our college classmates died. Hiking accident. They died when an ice cave collapsed. They weren't part of my gang, specifically. But…" He tossed his hands up. "It makes you think. How did you know?"

  I shrugged and murmured my sympathy, weighing the pros and cons of his proposal. "I'm tempted," I said, slowly.

  I really was. I liked challenges. Challenges that could be met head-on and I had some kind of control in meeting them, however slight. "But what will my women do in Seattle? They're talented women with successful careers. They won't quit, pack up and move without a better, or at least equal, opportunity in hand. And why should they?"

  "No one expects them to. Part of your new agency will be a headhunting branch that uses my connections to find them career advancement opportunities. If they decide to stay.

  "Initially, I'll put them up in condos downtown for a few weeks or months while they decide whether Seattle is going to work for them or not."

  My mind was racing. His plan was just audacious enough to be tantalizing.

  "My app and your matchmaking services work in tandem. Success for both of us. We could make beautiful business together, you and I."

  Why was he so damn seductive?

  "Come on. You want to expand. I know you're tempted. Let me take you to dinner and we can discuss details."

  I was tempted. In so many ways. Too many ways. But if I went out to dinner with him, I'd end up in his bed. I had no doubt of that. And while that was incredibly tempting, it would definitely cloud my better business judgment. And besides, I had a rule: never be too available for a man.

  "What a lovely offer. I wish I could. But I'm busy tonight." I rested my hand on his arm.

  He nodded, any disappointment masked. He might even have been impressed. "I fly home tomorrow at one. Take the night to think over my offer. I'll need your answer before I leave." He slid a folder in front of me. "The details and contracts are in here."

  He was good at the business game, too. A limited-time offer put just the right amount of pressure on. Never leave an open-ended timeframe. Sometimes, I even recommend that my clients give their matches a timeline for committing. You don't want to go into a partnership, business or otherwise, with a person who can't make up their mind that they want you i
n a decent amount of time.

  "You have my number," he said in that cool, hot, seductive voice. He grabbed a scrap of paper, jotted something down, and slid it over to me. "Here's where I'm staying. In case you want to deliver your answer in person."

  Chapter 7

  Lazer

  Playing the dating/mating/whatever game this was with a professional matchmaker was more challenging and fun than I'd imagined. I'd read the rest of her book on the plane on the way to New York.

  Rule number 55—Never be too available when a man asks you out. Especially at the last minute. No matter how eager or tempted you are to see him, make him wait. Make him work for it. You're a busy woman with many social engagements. Even if one of them is simply staying home with a bowl of ice cream and Netflix.—Dating Game, Set, Match

  So what are you doing tonight, Ashley? Washing your hair?

  Apparently booty calls were out, too. I was frustrated as hell. She'd been all I could think of this past week and a half since we'd met. Why do you think I flew all the way to New York to see her in person? I could have called or Skyped.

  Why had I decided to involve her in matchmaking my college buds? As she'd pointed out, we had matchmakers in Seattle. There were certainly plenty of others in New York I could have gone to with my scheme. But this intrigued me more. She intrigued me more.

  As far as matchmaking, call me either a skeptic or a romantic, but in the distant future, when I finally decided to settle down, I wanted the whole romantic comedy meet cute. Not a setup. Not date and relationship coaching at every turn.

  I was one of those guys who thought he would eventually just stumble into Miss Right. Walk into a bar and see her sitting there surrounded by heavenly light, looking like an angel while Cupid's arrow pierced my heart.

  My buds, however, were less romantic, more logical, and practical. And they were getting desperate. It had taken no arguing at all to convince them to let me hire a matchmaker for them and stack the dating deck in their favor.