“Are you on drugs?”
“What? Of course not! Why would you ask such a ridiculous question?”
“I’m not here to get fixed up, that’s half the reason I’m here. I don’t date. I don’t want to get hooked up.”
“Well, why the hell not?” Christine had never met a straight guy who could turn down a pretty woman. Then she quickly realized she didn’t know a thing about him. “Oh, you’re married or you have someone in your life. Of course.” She felt a little punch of disappointment. Not for herself, but for all the other ladies out there.
“I’m not married.”
“Really? That’s wonderful. If we have to pull your ads, won’t you please at least be our first male client under eighty? On the house, of course.”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t want any part of this. Are you understanding me?”
“I think I am. You don’t want the ads circulated. You don’t want to date. I’m so sorry. I wish I could comply.” Oh, why had she said that? What was wrong with her? She could easily hire a young, handsome model to be the attraction, she didn’t need Derek. And yet, she was reluctant to give up on him.
Derek had something. She wasn’t sure what, but it was something. Besides, his insistence made it all the more amusing. She liked seeing him angry. Hot. Excited.
Whatever.
“If you don’t want to date, you don’t have to,” she said. “Although I think my assistants will be extremely disappointed, won’t you, girls?”
The other women laughed and nodded.
“We can certainly compensate you for the ads,” she went on, “and very handsomely too. I’ll make a few inquiries and figure out what most models make. Pay you the same. Is that okay with you?”
“No, this is not okay with me. I don’t want money. I don’t want dates. And I don’t want my face splashed all over the place.”
Dropping her gaze, she gave him the old up and down. “You’re an attractive guy. You should go for it.”
He picked up the phone on her desk. “I only have to call one person to make this go away. My attorney.”
She bit her lip, thinking fast. “Aw, come on. You wouldn’t want to do that. Sue your poor aunt Mary? The women have already lost their initial investment and a lot more. I’m stepping in to help. Won’t you?” Her eyes beseeched him. “Please, say you won’t do anything rash until your aunt and the others get back. It’s only three weeks. We need you. I need you.”
“You need me?” He stepped away and laughed. “I’m not getting you. What do you want with me?”
“I…I, uh, don’t have any male clients. How can I run a dating service without any men?”
“Good question. Maybe you should have thought about that before you got involved.”
“I did. Long and hard. I know I can make this work. All I’m asking is for a little cooperation.”
He eyed her. His lips curled up in a hint of a smile. “Okay, on second thought, I will accept a date as payment. But on one condition—that I get to choose.”
“That’s fair. You should.” She nodded in the direction of the beautiful young women who worked for her. “See anyone here who catches your eye?”
“The only date I’ll agree to is with you. If you want this so damn bad, put yourself on the line.”
A thrill of anticipation skipped along Christine’s body. What was that all about? She needed to nip that idea right in the bud. “No way. I’m not up for grabs. I don’t date.”
He smiled. “That makes two of us. Puts us on equal ground. One date and I won’t sue. Okay?”
“No, it’s not okay.” Her back stiffened. “Choose someone else. I’m recently divorced, and I’m not very pleasant company.” Hoping to put him off, she added, “Never was even at the best of times.”
“It’s you or nobody.” He leaned against the desk, legs crossed, staring her down. “Come on. Do it for the team.” He had the audacity to smile.
She put her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed with defiance. It didn’t seem to faze him any.
Her shoulders slumped. How could she refuse if he didn’t? He had her and he knew it. “Shoot. I’ll do it. If you agree to let the ads run until the ladies come home.”
“Agreed. So where and when?”
“Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. Café Chardonnay. And I’ll pick up the tab.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Christine Bradley, you devil you,” Kelly said after Derek Connors left. “I can’t believe you fixed it so he wouldn’t sue, and on top of that, you got a date with him.”
“It’s not a real date,” Christine said quickly, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “I’m just stringing him along so he won’t sue Champagne for using his picture without his consent.”
“It’s still a date,” Jamie said. “And about time too. What have you been waiting for? Your ex-husband has moved on and it’s time you did the same.”
“I have moved on. I have friends and all the company I need.” She felt deflated all of a sudden. Even her champagne was flat. Probably she was tired. It had been a long day, and she wasn’t up to partying anymore. She’d rather go home and get a good night’s sleep so she’d be in great shape for the first day at her new job.
“You can’t work all the time,” Amy said.
“Sure I can.”
Catching a glimpse of herself in the wall of mirrors, Christine decided she looked old and tired. Beaten up by life. She had her mother’s good bone structure and classic nose, but her eyes lacked spark, and her crow’s-feet, those becoming character lines on some people, were rapidly becoming more like chicken scratches.
She turned her back to the mirror, not wanting to examine herself too closely. “I never want to marry again, so what’s the point of dating? It would be a monumental waste of his time, not to mention my own.”
Although she was possibly too young to be alone for the rest of her life, she couldn’t imagine starting over with someone new. She’d known perfect love and had married someone she’d considered her soul mate, and it hadn’t worked out. She still believed it could for other people, but she wasn’t taking any more chances. It wasn’t that she was wiser than most women, but simply more cautious. Because the thing about loving someone was—when it was over, it hurt so damn much.
She recalled how their “friends” had shunned her when he left, and how deeply lost she had truly felt. Jim had been an extension of her, almost like a limb that she took for granted but couldn’t do without. They had been friends and partners for so long that she couldn’t imagine living without him. She had cried herself to sleep for a year, and every time his name came up in conversation the hurt would begin again. Like an amputee she could still feel the pain of the missing part.
“You can date for fun, you know. You don’t have to marry a guy to get laid,” Amy said with a grin.
Now she was blushing. She could feel her cheeks get hot. “I like sex as much as the next person, and when I want it, I can get it. But when do I have the time? Besides, I’m going to be so busy making sure that everyone else in the world is getting all the love and sex they need, that I’ll be exhausted just thinking about it.”
The other women laughed, and Jamie refilled their champagne glasses. “Come on, everyone. Drink up. I think we’ve had our fun for the night, and nothing is going to top that hot-guy-in-his-muscle-shirt performance.”
They had bought a large carrot cake from a nearby bakery for the farewell party. Good Luck, Christine, was etched in orange frosting. She cut into the cake and put a generous slice on little paper plates for each of the women. They ate and drank and recalled funny stories, then one by one the girls hugged her and said their good-byes.
She tossed everything out, cleaned up the area, and turned off the lights, then she locked the door for the very last time.
* * *
The next morning Christine was running late. She’d made a quick stop to pick up her Starbucks low-fat café latte and fruit salad. She h
ad a newspaper tucked under one arm and a Coach tote over her shoulder, and was attempting to sip her coffee as the elevator doors began to close.
Two hands reached in and slid the door back. A small bulldog of a woman stepped in and pressed six, the same floor as Christine. She was wearing a gray pin-striped suit and thick brown hose in spite of the Florida heat and humidity. Must be a consultant from up north, Christine decided, eyeing her with pity.
The doors began to slide shut once more, when Christine heard someone call, “Hold the elevator.”
The suited woman didn’t lift a finger, so Christine stuck her foot in the door, allowing the other woman to enter. Her eyes were still glued to her coffee cup and she yearned to taste it. It was eight-thirty and she desperately needed her caffeine fix.
She took a quick slurp and burned her tongue. “Shit! Damn, that was hot.”
“There is no need for profanity,” the squat, gray-haired woman snapped. “People should learn to use the English language correctly and then they wouldn’t have to resort to swearing.”
“You mean like ‘fuck’?” the younger woman asked.
Christine nearly chuckled, but then she recognized the woman. It was her receptionist, Jenny Chandler. She had been hired by the Merry Matchmakers and Christine had decided to keep her on. A good reason for that decision was because she was Mary’s grand-daughter, and Mary was one of her mother’s friends who’d started the business.
“Good morning, Jenny,” Christine replied, with the briefest of smiles.
“Oh, hi, Mrs. B. Sorry, I was in such a rush and all, I didn’t notice you.”
“Yes, well, I’m rushing too. Maybe we’re both having jitters on our first day on the job.”
“Still no need for profanity,” the older woman sniped.
Christine looked down at the five-foot tall fire cracker. “My apologies.” A second later they arrived on the floor, and Jenny stepped out to hold the door for her to exit. “Have a good morning,” she said to the woman, who was right on her heels.
The three of them marched down the hall together, arriving at the same door.
Christine put her coffee and Coach bag on the floor and tried to insert the key in the lock. The woman from the elevator stood watching her.
“Can I help you?” she asked politely.
“Yes, you can help me. I’m looking for Champagne for Two. It’s here on this floor somewhere. I thought this was the right number, but I don’t see a name.”
“You’ve got the right place. Are you by any chance one of the Merry Matchmakers’ clients?”
“I am no such thing,” she snapped. “Do I look like the type of woman who would be soliciting dates?”
Jenny laughed, and it was an unpleasant snorting sound. “What do you think, Mrs. B? Should we sign her up?”
“Jenny, that is no way to speak to this dear woman.” Christine bit her lip to keep from smiling, then glanced over her shoulder, meeting the stony stare of the dragon lady. She could almost feel the hot fire breathing down her neck. “I’m Christine Bradley, the new owner of this dating service. What can I do for you?”
She still didn’t have the damn door open and her coffee would soon be getting cold.
“You can let me in, that’s for starters.” The woman pushed past Jenny and grabbed the key out of Christine’s hand, spilling the café latte Christine had placed next to her new bag.
She watched the brown liquid spill over her bag and splash on the toe of her new shoe. The most expensive pair of shoes she had ever owned, ruined on the first day. It was almost enough to make her cry. If she had any tears left, which she didn’t.
Still, the back of her eyes burned. She was not a frivolous person, and for her to spend money that she could ill afford in order to be properly dressed had not been an easy decision. But she wasn’t a stylist anymore, and as the new CEO for Champagne—the soon to be most premier dating service on the south-east coast—she had to look the part. Today she was outfitted in a silk dress from Escada and cream Ferragama pumps.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Christine grabbed her bag off the floor, and saw her coffee dripping from the bottom of her new pricy bag. Her first Coach tote.
The little lady barreled through the unlocked door without so much as an apology. “Where’s the bathroom?” she blurted. “My bladder is bursting.”
“I’m sure there is one down the hall,” Christine snapped, coming through the door and dropping her bag on her desk. She grabbed some paper towels and dabbed gently at her bag and shoe.
“Where’s my office?” the woman grumbled. “You better have a toilet handy, because I constantly have to go.”
“Excuse me?” Christine stopped cleaning her bag and stepped toward the squat little woman. “You… Don’t tell me. Are you Dr. Helga Weiss?”
“Glad you finally noticed.” The woman put her hands on her square hips. “You can apologize later, but now I really need a bathroom.”
“Your office is in the back, through the open door. The restroom is near the fax machine and file cabinet. Want me to show you?”
“I’m old, but I’m not blind or stupid. I can pee by myself.”
The moment she left, Jenny looked at Christine. “That’s the new psychologist?” Jenny asked. “She’s going to be working here?”
“Yes, and we’re lucky to have her. She has an amazing resume, but I would never have recognized her from her website picture, and I only interviewed her over the phone.”
“I can hear you,” Helga called.
Christine grinned and put a finger to her mouth. She whispered, “The woman is a sex therapist, a highly regarded psychologist, and has written books and lectured around the world.”
“I can still hear you,” Helga’s voice rang out.
“Shut the door,” Christine answered, “or we will hear you.”
Jenny whispered, “She’s weird, but I guess as a sex therapist you have to be.”
Not wanting to get into that, Christine wisely changed the subject. “So, tell me. What do you think?” She walked around, admiring every little detail with pride. “Wasn’t that decorator good?”
“Unbelievably awesome. It doesn’t even look like the same place.” Jenny’s gaze swept the reception area. “You did a fab job, Mrs. B.”
“Please call me Christine. And I’m so glad you like it.”
She had spent a big chunk of change on remodeling the office space, but it was well worth it. The reception area was a vast improvement from the dull green walls and mundane furniture that had been there previously. The merry matchmakers had outfitted the place with sofas and chairs that looked like Salvation Army rejects.
Christine and her decorator started fresh, making sure the space was modern and chic. They now had a waterfall on one of the walls that changed colors every few minutes, and sleek sofas facing a large square coffee table. Another slim table was set up with a sophisticated chrome coffee/cappuccino machine which would be available to her clients. She had chosen a pale lemon for the walls to complement the huge rounded marble counter where Jenny would sit.
A small alcove was placed in a corner of the room for her own desk, where she could conduct preliminary interviews of the potential clients.
She walked through the outer office into the back room, which was a great deal smaller and less pretentious. This was where she had set up Dr. Weiss’s private office space, so the in-depth interviews could have some privacy.
Helga came out of the bathroom, drying her hands on a paper towel. “Good. I feel much better now.” The little woman came over to shake Christine’s hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to us working together.”
“So, do I, Dr. Weiss. I appreciate your coming out of retirement to help us out.”
“Yes, well, Chicago was too cold, and my daughter and her baby were getting on my nerves. When I saw your ad, I knew it was what I wanted to do. I could busy myself arranging marriages and get warm again. A double bonus. Besides that, retirement was killi
ng me.”
Christine watched Dr. Weiss march over to Jenny. “I know you are young and think you’re hip, but I will not tolerate profanity for profanity’s sake. If you can’t think of an appropriate word, work on it.”
Jenny saluted. “Hail to the chief.”
Christine stepped forward with an appeasing smile. “Hey guys, I’m the chief, in case anyone forgot. Now, we all have work to do. I want this business to succeed, and if we want job security, we are all going to have to work together to see it does.”
She left Jenny and Helga to sort things out, and called her mother in Florence, but didn’t reach her at the hotel.
She had put her mother on the airplane yesterday morning and hadn’t heard from her since. Not that she was worried, but her mother was not very worldly and had always had a husband taking care of her. She was not the independent sort, or at least hadn’t been until she became friends with Helen and Mary. Now, she and her friends spent their evenings ballroom dancing or volunteering at the Kravis Center for the Performing Arts, and on weekends they delivered Meals-on-Wheels. Obviously the matchmaking business hadn’t taken up too much of their time, but if they had really put their hearts and heads into it, perhaps they might have had more success.
Still it was a positive change, and Christine was delighted that her mother had made such good friends and that her life was full again. When Christine’s father had had his sudden heart attack, her mother had been lost, too devastated to do anything. Now, she was like the energizer bunny who couldn’t sit still.
Christine knew her parents had talked about going to Europe many times, but they never had. Knowing why they had never traveled caused a dull but familiar ache inside her chest. It was because of Kevin. Her brother had died in a car accident two weeks before his high school graduation. He’d been the golden boy, a handsome, bright, athletic boy that everyone had loved and who seemed destined for great things. His death was so cruel and heart-breaking that none of them had ever fully recovered.
Only sixteen at the time, she had tried to make it up to her parents, but failed. She’d only been a mediocre student, and didn’t have Kevin’s outgoing personality, his sunny disposition, or a quarter of his charm. She had adored Kevin and had been so proud that he was her big brother. But then he was gone and she was alone with her parents and everyone was so sad.
ESCAPE INTO ROMANCE- 4 Book Bundle Page 48
