Mr. Accidental Rival_Jet City Matchmaker Series_Cam

by Gina Robinson

  I also understood problems of the heart and the complications of being too close to a situation like Ashley was. And I knew Lazer as well as anyone did. He wasn’t generally the jealous type, but when he was, he was a handful.

  I pushed unpleasant memories away and smiled at Ashley, happy to lose myself in my own matters of the heart. “Yeah. Sure. Toss me this week’s prospects.”

  Her face lit up. “Prospect. Only one.” She held up one finger.

  “Geez. Are things getting that desperate or have you been loafing on the job?” I’d noticed she hadn’t cornered even one single person since we’d been here. And by single, I meant unattached.

  Ashley was an extrovert’s extrovert. Never met a person she couldn’t talk to. Could spot a single person in need of love from a mile off. It was her habit when she was out to find more clients and members to add to her dating database. She hadn’t even mentioned her services to the flirty cocktail waitress. All she’d done was scare her off.

  “One is all you need, my darling Cam.” She pointed to me. “One beautiful, perfect match.”

  “But finding the one takes many tries, grasshopper.” I leaned forward with my elbows on the table. The hot waitress set my beer in front of me. I grinned up at her the way Lazer had taught me.

  Ashley waited impatiently for the waitress to leave. “Stop flirting with the wrong woman and listen up, buster.”

  “What?” I gave her my innocent look. “She’s cute.”

  Ashley grabbed her phone and brought up a picture. “She’s nothing compared to Victoria.” She started to hold it out for me. As I reached for it, she snatched it back. “Open mind?”

  I made an exaggerated heavenward gaze. “Always.” I held my hand out for the phone.

  She sighed for dramatic effect and slid the phone into my hand.

  I shook my head. “You know what they say about over-promising. You’re breaking your own rules tonight. Under-promise and over-deliver. Never overhype—”

  Midsentence, I stole a glance at the phone. My mouth went dry. The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen smiled casually back at me from the screen. Long, dark hair in a ponytail. Exotically shaped dark eyes. A smile that dazzled.

  “You take this?” I said to Ashley, squinting to see more detail. “At the gym, it looks like.”

  Ashley often did take the pictures. And the gym was a favorite place of hers to find clients and matches. She knew all the tricks to make a potential match look good. I tried to keep my calm as I looked at Ashley. She’d be smug if she sensed how excited I was.

  “Yes, the gym. And yes, I did take it,” she said. “Over-promised, did I? Seems from your expression like I undersold her, soldier.” She snatched the phone away. “Did I peg it or what? She’s exactly your physical type.”

  “Looks stay hot until about two seconds after a dud opens her mouth,” I said. “What’s her personality like?”

  “More to your tastes than her looks.”

  I laughed. There was no way that was true. “Her name’s a little fussy and prim. Victoria?”

  Ashley shook her head. “Always looking for something to complain about. She goes by Toria.”

  All right. I had to admit that was damn cute. I’d been expecting Vicki, if anything.

  “And she’s an entrepreneur with a cause. Like you. A cause near to your heart. She runs a small business that helps soldiers’ spouses earn an income while they’re serving. You know how hard it is for spouses to find employment when they’re moving so often and at the drop of a hat. Toria gets them and gets that.”

  Ashley held her phone close. “She’s tough, but soft and thoughtful. Funny. Intelligent. Self-reliant. Everything you want.” She shook her phone. “So. Do you want her number or not?”

  “What do you think?”

  Ashley texted it to me. “You know the rules. You’ll be tempted to jump right in with this woman. Take it slow and really get to know her first. You won’t be sorry. And you won’t be needing any other matches.”

  I shook my head. “Cocky. You could be wrong.”

  “But I’m not.” She slid her phone into her purse and signaled the waitress. “My job here is done. Lazer will be home soon. I have to run.”

  *

  Cam

  Yeah. I took it slow right off the bat. I texted Toria the moment I left the bar, sending a flirty text that said I’d like to meet her and asking when she was available.

  This stage can be awkward. The woman knows I’ve talked to Ashley, who’s pitched her to me. She knows she’s made the first pass and that I’m interested enough to meet her. And I know enough that Ashley has already approached the woman and she’s interested enough to give her approval to be pitched. Sounds like a win-win, but the game must still be played the usual way.

  When you play the match game long enough, you know what to expect. I could set my watch by the time between when I texted her to when she replied. Half an hour was standard. If the woman was new to matchmaking, she was usually excited to see how it went. She’d eagerly text back after thirty minutes to the second. If she was an experienced match dater, she might be more casual about the process. But she knew enough to text back promptly. And to take her time composing a fun, flirty text.

  That first text exchange can make or break a potential match. You don’t want to use canned lines, sound silly, or be too corny or forced. The last thing you want is to put the other off.

  I was surprised when I got a text from Toria as I walked into my condo. I tossed my keys on the console table in the entry. That was fast. Less than fifteen minutes. I grinned. It was flattering as hell to imagine such a hot woman being eager to reach out to me. Spend enough of your life as a nerd and you’ll realize how mind blowing it is.

  I read Toria’s text.

  It’s been a horrendous day. You don’t know how much your text brightened it. I was hoping for something—yes, romance something—to pick me up. Ashley has told me so little about you. Just enough to pique my interest. She’s a genius saleswoman. Leave a little mystery right from the start. Discovery is part of the journey.

  I would love to meet you. What and when do you have in mind?

  My pulse raced. I’d brightened her day? This was the best, most genuine, most intriguing reply text I’d gotten in over a year on the matching circuit. This woman had confidence. And she even spelled pique right.

  I could have played the game straight—wait half the time it took the woman to respond to reply. Before I could stop myself, my thumbs were flying and typing my reply.

  My day has been fantastic, capped off by Ashley introducing me to you. How about Friday? Dinner?

  This woman was definitely dinner-worthy right off the bat. This stage of the game was where things often got tricky. Texting back and forth, coordinating schedules and tastes. There were times I longed to go old school and just call. See how she spoke and what her voice sounded like. Make plans within minutes rather than hours.

  Little thought bubbles appeared on my screen as she typed her response.

  Friday dinner sounds great. I work in the city. Someplace downtown? Any time after six.

  I replied, Great. What do you like? Anything you don’t like? Are allergic to?

  More thought bubbles. I’m easy to please. No diet restrictions. Surprise me.

  My thumbs flew again. Give me some time to plan something special and make reservations. I’ll text you the location on Thursday. In the city—got it. Lots of choices there.

  She texted right back. Sounds like a plan. Can’t wait.

  Me either, I thought. Me either.

  *

  Toria

  I woke up with a smile on my face, as eager for Friday as a kid for Christmas. I burst into the office first, as always, with a smile on my face and a can of air freshener to eradicate any lingering scent of the interlopers. Office freshened, I took a turn on the swing, grabbed a cup of coffee from our break area, and headed to my desk to get started on the day.

  Midmorning,
my agent called. “Bad news. The landlord refuses to talk or budge. He claims they have the right to show the space and lease it to the highest bidder. And they can show it without permission.”

  “They don’t have to give us first right of refusal?” I was stunned. Why hadn’t I read the fine print? I was usually so careful with contract language.

  But then I knew why. Office space was as scarce as a unicorn. This space was perfect. I jumped and would have taken almost any terms to get it. At the time, I thought I only needed it for six months to buy me time to find another space. We were going to grow out of it by then anyway.

  Only I hadn’t and we hadn’t. We’d hit a few snags, but we were back on track. I found a lot more employees could work from home than I’d thought. We were able to get some spots in a shared workspace not far away. We were finding creative solutions to the office space shortage. And we had all fallen in love with this location and our space and made it ours. I was putting together an offer for a long-term lease when those nasty undercutters moved in.

  “I had our lawyer look over the lease agreement,” my agent said. “She says the landlord is acting within his rights.”

  I scowled and narrowed my eyes in thought. “What recourse do we have?”

  “Make a counteroffer. Offer the landlord more money than the other party is offering.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “I was afraid you’d say that.” My mind was racing. “What did they offer? Do you know?”

  “I’ll find out.” She sounded nearly as frustrated as I was.

  “Good. I’ll talk to my accountant and see what we can afford.”

  Which, I was afraid, wasn’t much. We operated on a shoestring margin.

  “Can you find out who we’re bidding against?” I asked almost as an afterthought. “We’re going to have to think creatively to win this one. I don’t want to get into a bidding war. If we’re dealing with the one of the big tech companies, we’re screwed.”

  “Let’s hope not,” she said. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I know something.”

  I eyed my swing and the sign above it: Never grow up.

  Sure. Good sentiment. But sometimes life forced you.

  The door to the office suite opened. A woman appeared in the doorway, a huge bouquet of spring flowers obscuring her face. She peered around it, looking around our office of women.

  Every woman in the office perked up and got a hopeful expression. A floral delivery always caused a buzz. Always—the two times we’d had one.

  The woman read a card in her hand. “Flowers for Toria?”

  My heart stopped. All eyes went to me. Puzzled, I raised my hand and slid my chair out to stand.

  “Stay where you are.” The delivery woman came toward me. “I’ll bring them to you.”

  I was too stunned to protest.

  She set them in front of me. “Looks like you have an admirer. Aren’t you the lucky one? Enjoy.” And she was off.

  I took a minute to inspect the bouquet—lovely, beautifully scented spring flowers, my favorites in pinks, whites, lavenders, and reds to match our offices.

  From a satisfied client? A happy vendor? A secret admirer?

  My heart raced as I pulled the card from the bouquet. My fingers shook as I opened the tiny envelope and read the note.

  I can’t wait to meet you, Toria. Your texts made an impression on me. You wouldn’t believe the lengths I had to go to send you flowers. Ashley masks the identities of her members. When I insisted, she agreed to act as intermediary and make sure these get to you. I still know no more than your first name. I intend to find out a lot more soon.

  Until Friday,

  Cam

  Be still my heart.

  4

  Cam

  The art of selecting a restaurant for a first date and making a reservation is another skill Lazer taught me and helped me finesse. Since we’d sold the app, I wasn’t worried about the strain on my wallet like I’d been in my younger years. But there were still subtleties to consider.

  I didn’t want the place so expensive that the woman either thought I was showing off or expecting too much from her. Even with Ashley’s five-dates-before-having-sex rule, a guy still had to be cautious. You don’t want a place so fancy and formal that it squeezes all life out of the date and any conversation must be made in whispers. Conversely, nothing so loud you have to shout to be heard.

  If at all possible, dinner should have an element of fun and the feel of entertainment to it, in case things stall or the date turns out to be a dud. Look, the truth is, a lot of women put a ton of effort into composing witty texts and dating profiles. In my case, even into impressing Ashley so she’ll take them on. You’d be amazed how many women can converse easily with another woman, especially one as outgoing and friendly as Ashley, but freeze on a date.

  I was at the coffee shop yesterday minding my own business alone at a table with my laptop. Next to me, this older white dude was having a painful first coffee date with a Vietnamese woman. It was a horror show. The conversation set my teeth on edge. Even my trusty high-end headphones couldn’t blot it out. Getting the woman to utter more than one or two words at a time was a Herculean task.

  And the guy? Wow. He was trying, but he was an amateur dater, making every mistake in the book. Talking and talking about himself. Asking her how many kids she had and where she went to school. Seeming way too interested in her nineteen-year-old daughter. Almost creeper sounding, though I didn’t think that was his intent.

  I almost got up and found another table. I had to fight the urge to butt in and give them both some vital coaching. And if that failed, tell them to give it up already, buy them each a beverage to go, and send them on their way.

  You don’t want to end up like that dud dude. The low risk coffee for their first, and presumably only, date should have been a good call. Except either the guy hadn’t done his job, or the woman was too polite and meek to state her preferences. The woman, who had a cup in front of her, when offered a second cup, told the guy she didn’t like coffee. She preferred tea. Yeah, it was a nightmare date all around.

  Long story short, even using a matchmaker, you can be ambushed by a lack of chemistry and a date who clams up. Even though cutting your losses and running would be the more humane solution in some cases, society has decided it’s rude. You don’t want to get a bad rep in the dating circuit as someone who ditches too quickly. The wise man will choose a restaurant where the meal itself can take over and provide conversation or diversion as necessary.

  You might think one of those chop-chop Japanese places would be a good choice. They meet a lot of the criteria. Except you can be shown up by the comedic table chef and his show. And a couple will almost always have to sit at a table with strangers around the grill. Great for the date failure. Not so good to get to know a good prospect.

  I’m a carnivore. I like meat. Many women don’t. Choose a place that has options. With my own advice in mind, I made dinner reservations at a churrascaria—the best Brazilian steakhouse in town. It was a meat-lover’s heaven. The meals were rodizio—a Brazilian form of an all-you-can-eat buffet brought around to your table. No awkward studying of long menus. No What’s good here? Just two options—rodizio or all-you-can eat salad bar for the non-meat-eaters. A very well stocked salad bar with exotic fruits and salads of all types.

  First dates are awkward for another reason—I like to pick the woman up. But on blind-meet first dates, this is often a non-starter. But does the guy offer or not?

  With online dating, it’s pretty clear—usually not. You could be a serial killer for all the woman knows. With matchmaking, there’s another layer of security and trust in place. So it’s not so much that as privacy and commitment. Both parties want to be able to escape without an awkward ride home and the kiss-at-the-door dilemma.

  Toria solved my problem by preempting me with a meet-you-there message. All right. Okay. Message received. I’d have to be on my best non-creeper behavior
.

  Maybe the flowers had been overkill. How was a guy to know? They’d been a spur-of-the-moment impulse. Ashley had agreed they were a nice touch. And Toria had sent me a fun thank-you text. But they still signaled eagerness. Who knows? The only certainty was that, dressed casually, but nicely, I waited for Toria to arrive at the restaurant. I liked to beat my date to the meeting spot, if possible. It was rude to keep a woman waiting. In this case, I was as eager as any of the clichés you could think of. Let’s call it as eager as a kid in a candy store. Toria was eye candy for sure.

  From the entrance, you could watch the meat cook over a long open-fire roasting spit tended by no fewer than three chefs. My stomach growled. The steakhouse smelled fantastic.

  My phone rang. My real estate agent. We’d been wrangling with the property management company all week. They were playing us. The tenant had made a counteroffer. How had the tenant even found out about our offer?

  Dave said the landlord’s agent said the tenant had sniffed our cologne in the air when she returned later to grab something she’d forgotten at the office. All I could say was that woman had a great nose. And that cologne was dead to me now. I threw the whole damn rest of the bottle out and called Lazer for a new cologne recommendation.

  It was too bad, too. That was expensive stuff with the benefit of having the desired effect on the ladies. Live and learn. Next time I make a stealth visit to a woman’s office, I’ll douse myself in eau de office aroma. Camouflage comes in all forms.

  As a consequence, all I could smell was myself. My nose wasn’t accustomed to the new cologne yet.

  “Good news, I hope,” I said when I picked up the call.

  “Not exactly,” Dave said. “The tenant has upped their bid.”

  I swore beneath my breath. How much capital and what kind of margin did this business have? I may have underestimated them. Underestimating the adversary can be a fatal move.

  Dave soothed my nerves. “They’re a small outfit. They’ll have to run out of capital soon and reach the limits of their budget. Hang tight. We’ll get the suite.”