by Shirley Jump
“I don’t think you need my help,” she said. “What was it Dot said? You’ve got legendary charm? I’m sure you could find plenty of women on your own.”
“Whether I do or not, that hasn’t brought me Miss Right yet. I think I need a professional.” He came closer, then around her desk, to sit on the edge. He leaned forward, and captured a chip just as it began to tumble off her chest. Her face heated. “Someone who knows what they’re doing.”
She pushed the chair back, and turned to dump the rest of the chips into the trash. That was the last time she was going to eat a messy snack at her desk. “Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not taking new clients right now.” A lie. She rarely turned down new clients. In her business, people came and went as their lives changed, which kept her busy year-round and left room for more. “You’ll have to find another matchmaker, or maybe try one of those online dating services. Sorry I couldn’t help you.”
There. That had been definitive, strong. Leaving no room for negotiation—or anything else. But Jack didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned in closer, his gaze assessing and probing.
“Okay, tell me.” The sun shone through the window and danced gold lights on his hair, his face. “What did I do to you that makes you hate me? Yet, kiss me five minutes later?”
“For your information, that kiss was an accident. I was reacting on instinct.”
Why didn’t she just tell him the truth? Why did she keep hesitating, letting this flirtatious game continue?
Because a part of her wondered about the man who had helped the local coffee shop and the neighborhood gym and still knew his old neighbors. A part of her wanted to know who the real Jack Knight was.
And if there was a possibility that for all these years, she might have been wrong about him.
“An instinct?” he said, his voice low, dark. “No more?”
“Yes. No more.” The lie escaped her in a rush.
“So if I leaned in now—” and he did just that, coming within a whisper of her lips, then brushing his against hers slow, easy, a feather-light kiss that made her want more, before he drew back “—you wouldn’t react the same way?”
“Of course not.” She stood her ground, but the temptation to curve into him pounded in her veins. To finish what they’d started back in the parking lot, to let that heady, heated rush run through her again, obliterating thought, reason.
Damn it. She didn’t do this. She didn’t lose control of her emotions, get swept away by a nice smile and a shimmer of sexual energy. Stupid decisions were made that way, and Marnie refused to do that.
She clenched her fists, released them, and forced her breathing to stay normal, not to betray an ounce of the riot inside her. To not let him know how much she wanted a real, soul-sucking, hot-as-heck kiss right now. Her gaze locked on his, then dropped to his mouth. Oh, my.
“Well, I’m glad to know you can resist that ‘legendary charm,’” Jack said, then rose and went around her desk to sit in one of the visitor’s chairs.
Disappointment whooshed through her. She let out a little laugh to cover the emotion, then sat back in her chair, because her legs had gone to jelly and her heart wouldn’t slow. She had two choices right now. Keep denying she was attracted to him, or fix him up and get him out of her life for good. What did she care if he dated half the female population of Boston?
For a woman who craved calm and order more than chips, erasing Jack Knight from her life was the easiest and best option. No one got hurt. A win-win.
“I might be able to help you find someone,” she said, clasping her hands on the desk, tight. Treat him like any other client. Act like he’s simply another bachelor. “Let’s start with why you think this is the right time in your life to find the perfect match?”
He leaned back, propping one leg atop the other. “I think it’s time I settled down and pursued the American dream.”
“Really? Right now. That’s actually what you think.” It wasn’t a question. Jack coming to her, now, after she’d refused to get close to him, couldn’t be a coincidence. It had to be some kind of game. What did he really want?
“It’s true. I woke up, realized all my friends are married, have kids, houses in the suburbs. I’m the lone holdout. I guess I haven’t met the right woman yet.” He grinned.
She let out a gust. “Why are you really here? Because if it’s to get me to go out with you, that’s not going to work.”
“Oh, I know. I got that message. Loud and clear.”
She thought she detected a measure of hurt in his voice. Impossible. Jack Knight was a shark, and sharks didn’t get hurt feelings. “Well, good.”
“My stepfather was very pleased with how compatible he is with Helen, and I thought you could do the same for me.”
If Marnie had anything to say about it, her mother would find someone else and stay far, far away from any relative of Jack Knight’s. She had yet to find a way to make him pay for the hurt he’d brought to her family.
Confronting him and demanding answers would only backfire when Helen found out. In Marnie’s perfect world, Jack Knight was destroyed and her mother never got hurt.
Marnie hadn’t been able to keep her mother from being hurt after the death of Tom, but maybe she could make sure this debacle with Jack didn’t impact Helen. All she had to do was find a way to keep Jack far from Helen—and that meant making sure Jack got the message that Marnie wanted him gone. She glanced over at the pile on her desk and realized there might be a way to hurt Jack and get rid of him for good—a much better and smarter way than having coffee with him and taking long walks through Boston neighborhoods. Clearly, that kind of thing distracted her too much. Brought her too close to the shark’s teeth. But this way...
“Sure, I’ll help you,” she said, pulling out a sheet of paper from the file drawer on her desk. “Let’s start with the basics. Name, address, occupation.”
He rattled off his address. “I believe you know the rest. Especially my name.”
Her cheeks heated again when she thought of how she had whispered his first name back at the coffee shop, of the way that same syllable had echoed in her dreams, her thoughts. Oh, yeah, she knew his name. Too well. “Uh, date of birth?”
He gave her that, too, then grinned. “I’m a Taurus, or at least I think I am. And I like long walks on the beach and moonlit dances.”
She snorted. “Whatever.”
“Would you rather I said monster truck rallies and mud wrestling championships?”
She laughed. “Now that I would believe.”
“Ah, then you don’t know me very well.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “I love the beach. I couldn’t move away from the ocean if I tried. There’s nothing like waking up on a warm Sunday morning, and having the ocean breeze coming in through your window.”
“I like that, too,” she said, then drew herself up. What was this, connect with Jack time? Focus, Marnie, focus. “Favorite music? Movies?”
“I like jazz. The kind of music that makes you think of smoky bars and good whiskey. Where you want to sit in a corner booth with a beautiful woman and listen to the band.”
A beautiful woman like her? Marnie glanced down at the sheet, saw she had written the question, then scribbled it out. That made her twice as determined to get Jack out of her life. Marnie Franklin didn’t do scatterbrained or dreamy or infatuated. Damn. “Uh, movies?”
“I don’t get to see many movies, and as much as I’d like to say something smart like Requiem for a Dream, I have to cave to a cliché. If you check my DVR, there’s a lot of action movies on there.” He shrugged. “What can I say? In a pinch, I opt for The Terminator.”
“I’ll be baaack, huh?” she said, doing a pretty bad imitation of Arnold.
He chuckled. “Exactly. What about you? What’s your favorite movie?”
&
nbsp; “I cave to the cliché, too. Any kind of romantic comedy. Especially You’ve Got Mail.”
“Isn’t that the one where the woman fell in love with her enemy?” Jack’s blue eyes met hers, a tease winking in their ocean depths.
Did he know? Did he suspect her hidden agenda? Then he smiled and she relaxed. No. He didn’t know who she really was or what she was planning for his “match.” He’d been joking, not probing to see if this particular Romeo and Juliet had a shot.
She didn’t care if they both liked the ocean, jazz music, and fun movies. If they’d both suffered a loss of a parent, and were still searching for something that would never be. He had ruined her life, her family. More than that, he was the kind of man who encouraged her to let loose, to become some giggly schoolgirl. She’d seen enough women make the mistake of leaping into a relationship without thinking, and refused to do the same. This wasn’t a Nora Ephron movie—it was reality.
She glanced down at the paperwork. Treat him like any other client, she repeated. Again. “Uh, what about things to do? In your free time?”
“Running at the gym. Seeing outdoor concerts. Walking the streets of Boston.”
She sighed, then put down the pen. “This isn’t going to work if you keep flirting with me.”
“I’m not flirting with you, Marnie. If I was flirting with you, you’d know it.”
“That—” she waved a finger between them “—was definitely flirting.”
“No. This is flirting.” He got up again and approached her desk, then placed his hands on the oak surface and leaned over until their faces were inches apart. She caught the dark undertow of his cologne, the steady heat from his body. His blue eyes teemed with secrets. A lock of dark hair swooped across his brow. The crazy urge to brush it back rose in her chest.
“You are a beautiful, intoxicating, infuriating woman,” he whispered, his voice a low, sensual growl, “and I can’t stop thinking about you. And I love the way you look today. All...unfettered. Untamed.”
Heat washed over her body, unfurled a deep, dark flame in her womb. She opened her mouth to speak, and for a moment, could only breathe and stare into those storm-tossed eyes of his. “Okay.” Her words shook and she drew in a breath to steady herself. “Yes, that...that was flirting.”
He smiled, held her gaze a moment longer, then retreated to the chair. “Glad we got that settled.”
Settled? If anything, things between them had become more unsettled. A place Marnie never liked to be. Her concentration had flown south for the winter, and every thought in her head revolved around finding the nearest bedroom and taking her sweet time to “flirt” with Jack Knight.
Jack Knight. The enemy. In more ways than one.
She cleared her throat and retrieved her pen. In a normal client meeting, she’d let the questions flow in a natural rhythm. Her initial meetings were usually more like a chat with a new neighbor than a formal interview, but with Jack, she couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought. “I, well, I think that’s all I need for now. I’ll be in touch in a couple days with some potential matches.”
“That was easy. You sure you don’t need anything else?”
You, a bedroom, more of those kisses. “Nope, I’m good,” she said, too fast.
“Okay.” He started to rise, and she put out a hand but didn’t touch him.
She refused to let a silly thing like attraction get in the way of her goals. She needed information, and she needed Jack out of her life. Today. She could accomplish both right now.
Here was her opportunity to finally do what she’d been trying to do for weeks—find out about his business and how he operated. Maybe then she’d have the answers she needed, the ones that would close the hole in her heart and answer the what-ifs. She’d finally be able to accept the loss of her father, and move forward.
“Jack, wait a second. You know, lots of the women you’ll be paired with work in complimentary fields. It might be good to get to know more about your job.”
He sat back down. “Makes sense. I’ve told you a little about what I do. What else do you need to know?”
She had to word this carefully, or he’d realize she was looking for more than just matchmaking info. “Well, let’s start with something general. Pretend we’re chatting for the first time.”
“Over coffee?” He grinned.
She hardened her features. The last thing she needed to do was think about that walk to the coffee shop. Or the cookie crumb driven kiss. Keep this professional. “Or over a desk in an office.”
He nodded agreement. “Okay, shoot.”
“Tell me more about how you decide which companies to invest in and which ones you walk away from.”
He cleared his throat and when he spoke again, the flirt had left his voice and he was all business. “A lot of that is a matter of numbers. I look at their market share, profit and loss, balance sheets, and weigh that against future potential and opportunities. If the dollars aren’t there, it doesn’t make financial sense for me to invest. But, sometimes I do anyway.” He shrugged. “Because of the Caterpillar Factor.”
“The Caterpillar Factor?” She stopped writing. “I’ve never heard of that before.”
“It’s something I made up. When you buy a business, there’s a lot of data to wade through. But in the end, I let my instincts make the final decision. That’s the Caterpillar Factor.” He leaned forward in the chair, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. “You know how you can look at a caterpillar and get grossed out by it? I mean, most of them are fat and have a bunch of legs, and aren’t exactly something you want crawling on you.”
“That’s true.” She gave an involuntary shudder.
“But those same caterpillars have the potential to be something really incredible. When you look at them, you don’t know what it will be—you’re judging it entirely on its current form. But underneath, buried deep inside that caterpillar, is something that, given enough time and nurturing, will be amazing and beautiful.”
“A butterfly,” she said, her voice quiet.
“Exactly.” He grinned. “Not every business is a butterfly waiting to be unveiled, but some are. And I know that by investing in and coaching them, I can help them become something amazing.” He gave a little nod, and a flush crept into his cheeks. “I know, it sounds kind of corny.”
She never would have thought she’d see Jack Knight embarrassed or shy or vulnerable. But here he was, admitting that he believed in potential, that he sometimes went with his gut, even against conventional wisdom. Wasn’t that how she approached her matchmaking? No computer algorithms, no formulas, just instinct?
Why did this one man—the wrong man—discombobulate her so? She’d never met anyone who could do that with nothing more than a smile, a whisper of her name.
Damn it all. She related to him, understood him, and that added another complicated layer to what she’d thought would be a simple matter of revenge. The closer they got to each other, the more she allowed him to burrow his way into her heart, the harder it became to implement her plan.
She glanced down at the paper before her. The words swam in her vision. Why hadn’t Jack seen a butterfly in Top Notch Printing, her father’s business? Why hadn’t he helped her father more? Wasn’t Tom Franklin’s life and livelihood worth some time and nurturing, too?
“And what about the ones that won’t be butterflies? What do you do with those businesses?”
He sighed. “Sometimes, the business is too far gone, or the owner just isn’t equipped with the right skill set to help it reach the next level. We could throw millions at the company and it wouldn’t be enough. In those cases, we sell off the parts, recoup our investment, and hopefully send the owner off with cash in his pocket.”
“Hopefully?” The word squeaked past the tension in her jaw.
“You’re a businessw
oman, Marnie. I’m sure you understand that there are a million factors that can affect the decision to keep or sell a company. Some owners are great at running a business, some...aren’t.”
She thought of her affable, fun-loving father. He’d never been much for keeping track of paperwork or receipts. Never one to demand a late payment or argue with a customer. But that meant Tom had needed more help, not less. Why hadn’t Jack seen that?
“Sometimes, despite all the due diligence in the world,” Jack said, “we make mistakes, and sometimes life throws us a curveball that we didn’t expect. A supplier goes under or a major customer takes their sales elsewhere. Sometimes, the companies recoup, sometimes...”
“They die,” she finished. She had to swallow hard and remind herself to keep breathing.
He nodded. “Yeah, they do.”
“You seem awful cavalier about this.” As if there weren’t people hurt in the process. As if the only thing that died was a bottom line. She clenched her hands together under her desk, feigning a calm she didn’t feel.
“It’s a reality. Fifty percent of businesses fail, for a million reasons. You can pump all the cash you want into them, and some just aren’t destined to survive. If I got emotional about each one, I’d get distracted and lose sight of the big picture. So I don’t make my decisions based on emotion. I think it helps that I don’t exactly love my job, but I...respect it. Maybe someday down the road, I’ll get a chance to do something else.”
“And what is the big picture? Profits?”
“Well, everyone likes to make money. But for me, it’s the businesses I see succeed. Like Dot’s coffee shop or my friend Toby’s gym. I see the placed filled with happy customers, and that tells me I did the right thing. It’s not about profits, it’s about quality of life. For the owners, and their clients.”
“And the businesses that don’t make it?” she said. “What are they to you?”
