I had a big meeting with an important client in the south end first thing in the morning. I needed the samples. It was either go back to the office for them or get up at oh dark thirty to make it to the office, grab them, and head south for the meeting. The latter option was fraught with the danger of being late for the important meeting. Seattle traffic. I shook my head. Some of the worst in the nation. I had no choice—back to the office with me.
Forty-five minutes later, I was walking through the door to my beautiful office suite. I’d worked hard to make the place feel warm and inviting for my workers. They loved the swing. If the space would have been bigger, I would have added a ping-pong table. Playing a game and getting up and moving was good not only for health, but creativity, too. But no such luck in this city. I was lucky to have the amount of space I did.
I stopped just inside the door and sniffed. I had the nose of a fine bloodhound. Mom called it an overdeveloped sense of smell. I took another step in and inhaled deeply. “There’s been a man in here.” I sniffed again. “Or men.”
Crap. I smelled at least two distinct colognes. That one of them was sensual, definitely hot, made no difference to me. The other one had the distinct odor of a real estate agent. Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an undercut.
Okay, so my nose wasn’t really that good. The agent had dropped a business card on my desk. Force of habit for him, probably. They always leave a card somewhere obvious when they show a house. Guess he forgot he was in an office.
“That dirty-ass landlord,” I said to the walls.
He was trying to lease the property out from under me to a higher bidder—the guy with the expensive cologne, and probably pheromones I was susceptible to.
I pursed my lips and pulled my phone out. My first reaction was to call the landlord and give him a piece of my mind. But that was too valuable a commodity to share with him. And probably wouldn’t serve my cause well. Instead I sat down on my swing and called my own agent. I couldn’t afford to lose this office space.
All this drama and stress. I hated it. I needed some good news. A little bit of luck. Maybe some romance. My phone buzzed announcing a text just as my real estate agent picked up. My matchmaker was texting. I’d have to text her back later. Routing out the usurper came first.
*
Ashley Harte, matchmaker
I sat at a corner table playing with my drink and looking for Cam as I waited for him to arrive for our weekly meeting. I was uncharacteristically nervous. Cam was more than a client. He was a true friend. This time I needed his help with a matter of the heart as much as he needed mine. One of my other clients, Knox, an old friend of my late husband Ruck, had fallen in love with me. To be completely accurate, he had claimed to be in love with me since we first met years ago while I was married to Ruck.
Truthfully? Clients have fallen in love with me before. Or thought they had. It happens. The bond I have with them sometimes starts to feel too intimate. By design, they tell me all their dating problems. I walk them off the ledge. I’m their sounding board and encourager. The lines sometimes get blurry. They’re usually easy enough to set back on the right path. Present them with their real match and they let go of me pretty easily. It’s a matchmaker’s trick.
The problem? The myriad problems? First of all, I have a fiancé I love madly—my business partner in the matchmaking business, billionaire Lazer Grayson, who is also Cam’s good friend. Deep in my soul, I know there is no one but Lazer for me. I’ve been lucky to find two very different men in my lifetime who are my perfect matches. I lost Ruck. I don’t intend to lose Lazer.
Second, Knox, knowing full well I’m engaged to Lazer, proposed to me after the big singles masquerade ball Lazer and I threw for our clients. And had the audacity to tell me that Ruck had given him his blessing to be my second husband if anything ever happened to Ruck. What had Ruck been thinking? I could find my own second husband, thank you very much.
“Hey there, gorgeous. Is this seat taken?”
I jumped, physically jumped in my chair, at the sound of Cam’s friendly voice.
He pulled the chair out. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“My fault. I was lost in thought.”
As he sat, a cute cocktail waitress bustled right over. She was clearly fluttery around him. It was a cocktail waitress’ job to flirt and earn the big tips. But she was taking it to a new level as she laughed with him. And, using my highly trained matchmaker’s sense of observation, I could see there was genuine interest behind it. Back off, woman. I’m paid to find him love.
And, in fact, I had a prospect for him that I was totally excited by. This might actually, finally, be the one.
After a discussion about the merits of the various beers on tap, he ordered a dark ale.
“Dare I ask what you were thinking about when I interrupted? Plotting another devious match?” He lifted an eyebrow.
“More like trying to think how to get out of one gracefully. I could use your help.”
His face registered such immediate surprise that it was comic. “What? You want me to launch some kind of cyberattack to scare him off? I can do it, but it will cost you.” He laughed.
Cam was a genius software developer and hacker. A jack of all trades in the software industry—and master of them, too. Such a dangerous combination.
“No, not at all.” I shook my head. “I’m serious here. I have man troubles.”
“If it’s about Lazer—”
“No.” I shook my head again. “No. Absolutely not. I’m madly in love with him—”
Cam held his hand up and relaxed. “Let’s just stop there. I don’t need to hear anyone sing Lazer’s praises again. I’ve heard that chorus before. So who are we talking about?”
“Knox. You’ve met him—”
“Your late husband’s good buddy?”
I nodded. “The very one.”
Cam blew out a breath. “I’m not sure I want to hear this. Or should. That’s hitting too close to Lazer’s weak spot.”
So Lazer had mentioned Knox to his friends, or at least to Cam. I grabbed Cam’s hand where it rested on the table. “Please, Cam. You’re the only one I can talk to about this, really. Lottie tries, but she doesn’t fully understand my dilemma. And as much as I love her, I can’t burden her. You, on the other hand—well, you’re levelheaded and trained to keep secrets, Mr. Top-Secret Clearance.”
He gave me a deadpan stare and mumbled. “Me and my reputation for not having loose lips coming back to bite me. How bad is this secret?”
I shrugged. “Depends on your definition of bad.”
He blew out a breath and lifted his brow. “Does your life depend on it?”
With impeccable timing, the waitress arrived with his beer. She set it in front of him and gave him a flirty smile.
I stifled a laugh and waited for her to leave. “Forget about her.” I nodded toward the retreating waitress. “I have someone for you. Someone much more to your tastes.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” He took a sip of beer and licked the foam off his lips with a look of utter pleasure.
“My life? No.” I shook my head. “It’s women who kill their lover. Men usually kill the other guy.”
His eyebrows shot up even higher.
“Not that.” I laughed again. “I’d never cheat on Lazer.” I shook my head. He was clearly teasing.
His eyebrows returned to their normal level. “Then what?”
“Promise not to tell anyone, particularly Lazer?”
“What do you want me to swear on?”
“A simple promise will do,” I said.
He nodded. “I promise. Don’t make me regret this.”
I opened my mouth to unburden myself.
He held a finger up. “One minute. Let me fortify myself first.” He took a deep swig of beer and wiped his lips. “All right. Out with it.”
“Knox proposed to me after the ball.”
Ever Lazer’s friend, Cam scowled. If I hadn’t been u
sed to it, his death glare would have scared the spit out of me. “And you said?”
“No. Of course.”
“Okay. Then what’s the problem?”
“Well, obviously, Knox won’t take no for an answer.”
“And you’re afraid Lazer will call him out and get into it with him?” Cam wasn’t smiling. He was serious.
“Lazer isn’t the kind to call anyone out,” I said, serious now myself. “Knox is a soldier. In a physical battle, he’d take Lazer out. But Lazer is smart and wily. He could ruin Knox if he wanted to. And Knox wouldn’t even know what hit him.” I took a breath. “It’s not in Lazer’s nature. Unless pushed into it.”
“Cut Knox loose as a client. Sever all ties. Problem solved.” Cam reached for a pretzel from the bowl in the middle of the table.
“Even not knowing about the proposal, that’s what Lazer wants, too. But that’s where the problem lies. And where your help comes in. I can’t cut Knox loose.”
Cam gave me that deadpan stare again. “I’m probably going to regret asking, but why not?”
I bit my lip. “Before he died, I promised Ruck that I’d look after Knox and make sure he found the right woman to make him happy. I promised I’d never give up. I can’t go back on my word. And—”
“There’s more?” Cam wasn’t easily riled, but he looked aghast.
I nodded and squeezed his hand. “It gets worse. As a soldier, you understand about the brotherhood among the guys. Knox promised Ruck he’d look after me if Ruck were ever killed. And Ruck gave him his blessing to be my second husband, even encouraged it. It’s also the best way to take care of me. Knox isn’t giving up.”
“You could fake your death,” Cam said, sounding almost sensible.
“Very helpful.” I released his hand.
“It’s an impossible situation,” he said, with a wry look. “What do you want me to do? Tell me and I’ll get to it.”
“How do I convince Knox to back off?”
Cam frowned as he gave it some thought. “You appeal to his sense of honor. Show him the best way to fulfill his promise is by letting you live your life your way with the man you choose. Convince him that all Ruck expected was for Knox to rush to your aid if you ever need and request it. And finally, you find him his woman, the woman who’s his match.” He grinned. “If all that fails, you hire a hit man.”
I laughed. “I was about to say, you’re very wise, Cam. Good thing I wasn’t fast enough off the dime.”
He grinned.
“The problem is finding the right woman for Knox. If it were that easy, I would have done it long before now. He’s not giving any of them a fair shot. As long as he hangs on to his stupid promise and this fantasy version of me…” I shrugged, frustrated.
“You could blacken your teeth and wear rags.”
I laughed, feeling much better now that I’d told someone about the proposal. “Great plan.”
“You’re onto something—you need a plan to show Knox how incompatible you are. Turn into a bitch and make his life hell.”
I rolled my eyes. The truth was cloudier. Knox and I were very compatible. Just not as compatible as Lazer and I were. Shades of compatibility. I should coin the term.
If I hadn’t met Lazer, or Knox had come back into my life sooner, before I fell in love with Lazer, I could see myself happily married to Knox. That was impossible now, of course. What is seen can’t be unseen. I had no desire to fall out of love with Lazer. So now we play the hand fate has dealt us.
“Kidding. But you get my gist.” Cam paused. “It’s not my place to say, but I think you should trust Lazer enough to tell him about Knox and his promise to Ruck and let Lazer help. He’s a reasonable guy. He’ll understand. And you have to admit he has a sixth sense about women and relationships that’s almost downright un-masculine.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, he’s perfectly reasonable. Until the green monster rears its head. Ruck is a sore spot. But throw Knox into the brew and things go south fast.”
“Ashley, come on. What do you always tell us? Communicating with your significant other is the key to success. If the lines of communication aren’t open, things will derail.” His eyes danced.
“You’re enjoying yourself at my expense,” I said, shaking my head.
“On the contrary. I’m as uncomfortable as you are at having your words thrown back at you. Give yourself some credit. Your advice is sound and I’m right to use it on you.” He signaled the waitress for another beer.
“You may be right,” I said, knowing he probably was. “But not yet. Not until I try a few things.”
I took a sip of my tepid, warming cocktail. At one point it had been perfectly shaken with enough ice to be cold and smooth. “Enough about me. This meeting is supposed to be about you. Do you want to hear about the woman I’ve found for you?”
3
Toria
Once I had my agent on the case, I took a breath. She was going to take a look at my lease agreement, contact my landlord and the property manager, and get back to me. She was righteously indignant on my behalf. This behavior was outrageous. I didn’t have any answers, but at least I’d taken action. It was all I could do for now.
Before I left the office, I steeled myself to look at the text from Ashley, my matchmaker.
I’d met Ashley for the first time just last week. It was quite by chance. Or maybe it was by fate. I’d been to the gym for my regular weight-training class. They have a fantastic smoothie bar on the ground floor. I’d stopped by to grab a healthy beverage after class when she came up to me and introduced herself. She said she was meeting a client and quickly dispelled me of my misperception. She was a matchmaker.
I liked her immediately. She’s the kind of woman we all want to be—instantly friendly and relatable. Put together. On the ball. Confident. Charming. Beautiful. She was in her street clothes.
I was still in my exercise wear, hair in a ponytail. The glow of exercise, to put it politely, on me. No makeup. We struck up a conversation. Before I knew it, I was telling her about myself and my frustrations in the dating world. She handed me her card and encouraged me to sign up as a member of her dating database. I filled out the online profile as soon as I got home.
The next day, Ashley called and set up an appointment for us to talk. She screened all potential members. She had two kinds of customers—clients, who paid for her personal one-on-one service to find them a mate, and members who paid a modest fee to be part of a database of potential matches for her clients. As a member, there were no guarantees you’d even get a date. But I figured it was worth a shot, especially after she told me about some of the matches she’d made and the caliber of clients she had.
Yeah, sure, there were plenty of men in the city. But I was tired of dating douchebags. If she could send me out on a prescreened date, and do better than the online dating sites, I would be thrilled. By the end of the meeting, I’d told her what I was looking for in a man and she’d approved me as a member.
Then she did the most astounding thing.
“I’ve had someone in mind for you since I spotted you at the smoothie bar. I’ve been on the lookout for a woman for this wonderful man for a while.” She pulled out her phone and showed me a picture of a guy who looked like he’d stepped out of my dreams.
He was hot. Seriously, I could not have designed him to better suit my tastes if I’d built him myself from the ground up. He was my type right down to the confident set of his smile.
Ashley told me she’d pitch me to him. If he liked what he heard, and saw, she’d let me know and he’d be in touch to ask me out. Then she’d snapped a picture of me to show him. I’d protested. “I have no makeup on. And my hair’s in a ponytail. I have a professional picture I use on online dating sites. I’ll text it to you.”
“Trust me,” Ashley said, “I know how to snap a photo that will impress my clients. This one likes women who work out and like the gym. Just be yourself.”
She took the picture an
d showed it to me. She was a great amateur photographer. For all the gym clothes and lack of makeup, it was a great shot. I still texted her the professional shot. For comparison purposes, at least.
I’d been eager all week to hear back from her. What did Mr. Hot think of me? Now I really needed good news. I took a deep breath and read her text.
My client is interested. Expect him to get in touch soon. You’re going to love Cam. Trust me. He’s the sweetest guy. Just your type.
*
Cam
Nice diversionary tactics, kid, I thought. But I let Ashley off the hook.
She was right—military men formed a brotherhood and bond that was unbreakable. We looked after each other and the families on the home front. And if we swore an oath to a brother in arms…
It was going to be damned hard for Ashley to get Knox to break it. She had to make him see he’d fulfilled it.
Yeah, if I could walk around in Knox’s head, I was pretty sure I knew the scenery I’d find. A good case of survivor’s guilt would be the first landmark. Loss. Trying to make things right. Trying to keep the friend’s memory alive. Make his death mean something.
I’d killed men, enemies. I’d stood right next to my fellow officer, and best friend in the service, as he crumpled to the ground after being hit with a sniper’s bullet. I dragged him out of the line of fire and held him as he died. I cursed the sniper for not getting a clean, quick kill shot. If you’re going to shoot someone, make sure they don’t suffer. It’s a crazy range of emotions that goes through your head.
I was on the team that found the sniper and took him out. Vengeance was ours. One more threat neutralized. But no answers. I followed orders like I was taught, using technology to find the bastard. No questions. Someone else pulled the trigger. Just a clean kill from afar.
I wanted to ask the sniper—why my buddy and not me? What made you decide to shoot him first? We were just two tech geeks in helmets messing with some equipment.
The experience messed with your head. I saw the devastation to my friend’s family. I hugged his widow at the funeral. I felt the burden to look after his kids. After the app sold, I set up a college fund for them. I knew he’d wanted them to go to college. I was no stranger to what Knox was feeling. Fortunately for me, my friend’s widow wasn’t my type.
Mr. Accidental Rival_Jet City Matchmaker Series_Cam Page 2
