Heartstrings and Diamond Rings

by Jane Graves

Brandon held up his palm. “Now, see there? I set you up with a guy you really liked, didn’t I? I mean, if you overlook the fact that he ended up in jail.”

  She shook her head dumbly. “Did you just hear yourself?”

  “I know. Strange conversation. But if you think about it, otherwise he was a solid match. I can do it again, only this time, I’ll make sure the guy is squeaky clean.”

  “So you’re telling me your plan is to give me Greg minus the felony warrant?”

  “Well, yeah,” he said. “More or less. If you’ll give me another chance, I know I can set you up with the right guy.”

  He gave her the most sincere look of contrition he could muster. A few seconds passed, and even though she still had her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed, he could tell her anger was losing steam.

  “It was horrible to get stopped by the police,” she said.

  He nodded sympathetically. “I know.”

  “I felt like a criminal.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll probably have nightmares.”

  “I’m really sorry about that.”

  “It was traumatic.”

  “Trust me, Alison. This was a random glitch. It will never happen again.”

  “I’d have to be out of my mind to let you set me up again.”

  “Look. I really want this business to be a success. I need it to be a success. But if one of my first clients is dissatisfied, what chance do I have?”

  Alison opened her mouth to say something else, only to close it again. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Make me feel sorry for you.”

  He just stared at her.

  “Because I don’t. Not even a little bit.”

  “I was just hoping you’d let me make good on my mistake.”

  Alison rolled her eyes and looked away.

  “I know you’re an understanding person. I could tell that from the first moment we met.”

  She pursed her lips with irritation.

  “A sympathetic person.”

  Her eyes shifted to him, and then she looked away again.

  “A kindhearted person who doesn’t hesitate to give people second chances.”

  “Brandon—”

  “Come on, Alison. I’m just asking you to give me another chance. Just one more chance so I can—”

  “Oh, all right!” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “I’ll let you find me another match!”

  He smiled. “You won’t be sorry.”

  She pointed a finger at him. “But if you think I’m paying for this mess tonight, think again. That one didn’t count. I still get five matches if that’s what it takes.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t even think of taking your money for this one.”

  “And you will do background checks from now on.”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re getting only one more chance, you know. If the cops show up again, this whole deal is off.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  “Then we understand each other?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Fine.” Then she put her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “God. I am such a pushover.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re just the kind of person who gives other people the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Right,” she muttered. “God only knows who you’ll set me up with next. An escaped convict? A terrorist? Or maybe a serial killer? You know. His neighbors think he’s nice and quiet, but he has body parts in his basement. Think how much fun that date’s going to be.”

  “No way. I promise you if the next guy has so much as a traffic ticket, he doesn’t make the cut.”

  “Small problem there. I have traffic tickets.”

  Brandon smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll warn the guy ahead of time that he’s dating a criminal.”

  Alison bowed her head, shaking it sadly. “I’m going to regret this. I just know it.” She walked to the door. “I have to go home now and take a shower. I smell like the inside of a police car.”

  “Yeah?” Brandon said, following her. “What does a police car smell like?”

  “Gunpowder and sweat.”

  “Are the backseats really plastic?”

  “I didn’t have the nerve to look around. Believe me, the less I saw, the better.”

  “I’m sorry you had such a rotten evening. But I promise I’m going to make it up to you.”

  “Okay,” she said wearily. “Fine. Give it a shot. After all, things can only go uphill from here, right?”

  “Give me a little time. I want to get this one right.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Good night, Brandon.”

  “Good night, Alison.”

  She opened the door and left the house, and Brandon watched as she walked down the porch steps and got into her car parked at the curb. It was a late-model Toyota. Attractive but sensible. Exactly the kind of car he would have expected her to drive, because she was a nice girl. And he’d set her up with a bad, bad man.

  Damn.

  He went back inside and into the den, where Tom was sprawled on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn on his stomach.

  “She’s kinda cute when she’s infuriated,” Tom said. “What’s she like when she’s not?”

  “Never mind,” Brandon said. “I have to rethink this thing.”

  “Did she fire you?”

  “No. I talked her into giving me another chance.”

  “I can’t believe the guy was a drug dealer. Maybe getting a handle on background checks would be a really good idea.”

  “Yeah? You think?” Brandon flopped in the flowered chair. “I can’t imagine why a guy like him would even go to a matchmaker. Got some factoid that explains that?”

  Tom shrugged. “Drug dealers need love, too?”

  Brandon closed his eyes. “Damn. Now I have to deliver for sure, or Alison definitely will want her money back.”

  When Alison got home from Brandon’s house, she was happy to see that Heather and Tony’s condo was dark, which meant they were both working late at the bar. Thank God. The last thing Alison wanted to do tonight was spill her guts about her evening with the handsome drug dealer and her brush with Dallas’s finest. She had to figure out how she was going to say He set me up with a felon and I’m going to let him do it again without sounding certifiably insane.

  Another wasted evening, she thought, crossing yet one more day of her life off her mental calendar. The older she got, the faster those pages flipped.

  She curled up on her sofa and switched on HGTV, where she watched House Hunters and imagined that the newlyweds searching for their first home were her and her new husband. The couple is looking for an early twentieth-century property, the announcer would say. They want four bedrooms and a big yard to accommodate the large family they plan to have. They have a budget of one million dollars…

  Okay, so the budget part was over the top. But if she was going to daydream, why not daydream big?

  Halfway through the first episode, Lucy draped herself over Alison’s lap as if she didn’t have bone in her whole feline body. Ricky lay upside down on the carpet by the sofa, his four white paws in the air, looking like road kill. Ethel lay upright on the sofa at Alison’s feet, her paws and tail tucked so tightly she could have fit neatly inside a meat loaf pan. If another stray kitten did eventually make its way into her life, she only hoped it was a boy. A girl cat named Fred would be really weird.

  An hour later, as House Hunters came to a close, the blissful TV couple found the historic Chicago townhome with the view of the river they were looking for. Alison wondered if she’d ever have more than her two-bedroom contemporary condo on the commuter rail line in Plano, Texas, which came complete with about three too many cats and one too few husbands. Later she fell asleep on the sofa and dreamed she spent the next five years having conjugal visits with Greg while he did his sentence, only to have him dump her
for another woman the day he was finally released.

  By midafternoon the next day, Heather had texted her approximately half a dozen times, and for every time she failed to text back, Alison knew her suspicion about the quality of her date grew exponentially. But she couldn’t hide forever, so finally she texted back, McCaffrey’s at six.

  At six o’clock, they were sitting in a booth at McCaffrey’s, and Alison was telling the story. At two minutes after six, Heather drew back with horror.

  “Brandon set you up with a felon?” she screeched so loudly she rattled the martini glass in front of her.

  “Will you keep your voice down?” Alison said.

  “Sorry,” Heather said. “I tend to scream when I’m appalled.”

  “I was a little appalled too. You know. At first.”

  “At first?”

  “I mean, I’m still appalled that the guy was a drug dealer. But like I said, where Brandon’s concerned, it was just a glitch.”

  “Glitch? Glitch? I thought you were going to tell me the guy dressed in drag or he was a chain smoker, or something. Drug dealer never popped into my mind.”

  “Come on, Heather. Even you agreed the guy looked good on paper. And Brandon isn’t going to charge me for that match.”

  “Well, I should hope to hell not!”

  “He’ll do better next time.”

  “Next time? You’re letting him have a next time?”

  Alison frowned. “Yes. I am.”

  “God, Alison, don’t you see what you’re doing? This guy doesn’t have a clue how to be a matchmaker, and you’re letting him use you as a guinea pig.”

  “I’m just giving him another chance. What do I have to lose?”

  “A little bit of time and a whole lot of money.”

  Intellectually, Alison knew that. But emotionally, there was something about Brandon she just couldn’t stop coming back to. He exuded the kind of confidence she wished she felt herself. Told her in no uncertain terms that he could find her the man of her dreams when she had a hard time believing it on her own anymore. In spite of what had happened last night, he gave her the one thing she desperately needed.

  Hope.

  Chapter 11

  A few days later, Tom and Brandon sat at the bar at McCaffrey’s, having a beer and watching the Rangers game they couldn’t get on his grandmother’s TV. It was late afternoon, and the crowd was light—just he and Tom, plus two other guys Brandon had never met before. Together they chatted about batting averages and trades and the pitching staff. But Brandon was having a hard time concentrating on the game. He was too preoccupied with the fact that his ad on Dallas After Dark had come out yesterday, and so far he hadn’t had a single call.

  “Unless a satellite fell out of the sky,” Tom said, “your phone is working. Will you stop staring at it and watch the game?”

  Brandon folded his arms in frustration and tried to concentrate on the game, but it was a hard-won battle. Realistically, he couldn’t expect his phone to start ringing off the hook right away. People would have to see the ad for a little while. Think about it. Consider the benefits of using a matchmaker. Go to the website to get more information. And then they’d give him a call and set up an appointment.

  Or the ad was going to generate nothing, and he’d be screwed.

  And then there was Alison. He’d been through a bunch of his files again with no luck, finding something not to like about every one of the men, even the other guy in the coin flip. He knew that was probably because he was gun-shy after setting her up with Greg the Vegan Drug Dealer. But if he couldn’t find Mr. Right for her, sooner or later he’d have to settle for Mr. Close to Right and hope for the best.

  “Still think you’re going to be able to do the matchmaking thing?” Tom asked between innings.

  “I still have time to get it moving,” Brandon said, but for the first time, his confidence was wavering. If he didn’t get some more new business coming in soon, he wouldn’t be able to do the deal in Houston. That would mean he’d have to go back to being a lackey on somebody else’s construction crew, and he’d always said he shoot himself before he let that happen.

  He remembered when he and Tom had pulled off one of the Vegas deals at a time when things were so hot there the contracts practically singed their hands. They’d left the title company, headed for the gaming tables, and before the night was over, Brandon had turned a ten thousand dollar stake into fifty, making him feel as if he couldn’t lose. Before the night was over, he and Tom picked up a couple of party girls, grabbed a limo, and made a night of it, throwing money around as if their pockets were bottomless. Brandon had woken up the next morning with the hangover of the century and a woman next to him whose name he didn’t even remember. And still he’d felt as if he was on top of the world.

  He wanted that feeling back again.

  Tracy was tending bar, seemingly watching the game right along with them. But she never missed an opportunity to lean this way or twist that way when she was getting a beer or adjusting the sound on the TV or washing out a glass, giving everybody present a nearly unobstructed view of her most cherished assets. But it was Brandon she focused most of her attention on. When a commercial came on, she leaned her forearms on the bar and gave him a smoldering stare.

  “I heard the most outrageous rumor about you,” she said.

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “Heather said you’re a matchmaker. You set people up. Find them their soul mates.”

  “Listen to Heather. She knows what she’s talking about.”

  “Then it’s true?”

  “Every word.”

  “A man who makes love matches.” She sighed. “That is so hot.”

  When Brandon responded by turning his attention back to the television, Tracy ran her fingertip along his hand. “I have an idea. Why don’t you tell me what kind of woman you’re looking for, and I’ll see if I can do a little matchmaking for you.”

  “Actually, I’m not looking right now.”

  “Now, I don’t believe that for one minute. A man like you is always looking.” She leaned in and spoke softly. “And trust me—I’m the one you’re looking for.”

  Since the first day he’d come in here, Tracy had been turning herself inside out for his attention. Under any other circumstances, he’d have returned her interest, but these days he didn’t have the option of hopping in the sack with any woman who happened to catch his eye.

  “I think you have some new customers,” Brandon said.

  Tracy turned around to look at the man and woman having a seat at the other end of the bar. With a frown of frustration, she walked down to take their order.

  The man sitting next to Brandon shook his head with disgust. “I hate women like her.”

  Brandon was shocked to hear him say that. So far he hadn’t noticed any of the other male customers having a problem with Tracy’s…uh, direct behavior.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m surprised she doesn’t have a mattress strapped to her back. I divorced a woman like her. Cheated on me right and left.”

  Ah. Now it made sense.

  “That’s too bad,” Brandon said.

  “I’m just glad to be rid of her. She had a roving eye from the day we got married. I’m not sure, but I think she screwed my best man in the back of his SUV two hours before we walked down the aisle.”

  Brandon wanted to ask the guy why, if he had a suspicion like that, he married her anyway. But he was probably just one of those too trusting guys who didn’t stand a chance against an evil, manipulating woman.

  The guy took a sip of his beer and sighed. “Where are all the good women? Seriously. Where are they?”

  All at once, the matchmaking sector of Brandon’s brain lit up like Christmas. “So you don’t like pushy women?”

  “Pushy, calculating, slutty. Can’t stand them. I just want a nice woman without all the drama. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Do you want to get married again?
”

  “Absolutely. I loved being married. I just didn’t love being married to a woman like her.”

  A man who loved marriage, but hated infidelity?

  Brandon thought about the networking his grandmother had done, finding quality singles in all kinds of places to match up with her paying clients.

  Maybe he needed to do the same.

  A few minutes later, he’d found out the guy’s name was David Pence. It was his first time at McCaffrey’s. He had time to kill before meeting a salesman to sign the papers on a new car he was buying, so he’d dropped in. When Brandon told him what he did for a living and that he’d like to introduce him to that good woman he was looking for, he seemed excited.

  A few questions later, and Brandon learned that David was an electrical engineer, thirty-eight years old, had a good income, didn’t smoke, and he wanted kids. And the fact that he was repelled by women like Tracy told Brandon that the perfect woman for him just might be Alison.

  By the time the guy left the bar, Brandon had made an appointment with him to come by the office the next day, bring a photo, and fill out a questionnaire. And authorize a background check, because he wasn’t making that mistake again. Since Brandon was soliciting him with a particular woman in mind, he couldn’t charge him for this match, but if things didn’t work out between him and Alison, he might be able to convert him to a paying customer later.

  All in all, it had been a productive afternoon.

  “Can’t believe he said that about Tracy,” Tom said as David was walking out the door. “I’d do her in a heartbeat.”

  “I think that was David’s problem with her,” Brandon said. “She’d do any guy in a heartbeat.”

  Tom perked up. “Any guy?”

  “Just wait until closing time. If she hasn’t already hooked up, you’ll look way better to her then.”

  “Gee, thanks. I can always count on you to give my ego a real boost. But I think it’s you she’s after.”

  “Not interested.”

  “In fact, there are a lot of women around here who are clearly out to get you. Any reason you’re not taking advantage of that?”

  “Because a bed‑hopping matchmaker isn’t exactly the image I need to be conveying. Word will get around.”