He heard the clatter as Brooke dropped something—probably her cell phone—then a soft whisper as she spoke to someone on the other end of the line. “Hey, Zoey.”
Ah yes, Brooke’s roommate and trusty sidekick. He wondered if Zoey would be upset about being dragged into another episode of the drama that was his life. After eight years, it had to be wearing on her.
“Yeah, I found him, about to hook up with Candi. Yeah, that Candi. I don’t know—he’s totally wasted. Can you pick up my car? I’m going to stay the night to make sure he’s okay.”
That’s when Luke fell asleep.
CHAPTER TWO
Luke awoke to the banging of pots and pans in the kitchen. Brooke. His head felt as though it had been sliced in two with an ax. Now he remembered why he usually didn’t drink. He squinted at his alarm clock. It was already ten in the morning. He rolled over and sat up, groaning. He was still dressed in his suit from the night before, minus shoes, socks, and jacket. His stomach churned. He wasn’t sure if it was a result of the hangover or anxiety over facing Brooke. He’d made an idiot of himself. Again. And he knew she’d have a lot to say on the subject.
His feet hit the floor, sinking into the plush charcoal-colored carpet, and the bedroom lights flipped on. Heavy dark blue drapes—Brooke’s choice—slid back from the large picture windows on one wall. “Good morning, Luke,” said the cool voice of Talia, the computer running his home automation system. “Los Angeles is a chilly fifty-five degrees today. It’s 10:09 a.m., and your schedule is blank for the entire day-day-day.” She repeated the last word three times, a glitch that happened a few times a day. Luke hadn’t bothered to fix it. Talia was the last project he and his dad had worked on together. She functioned correctly most of the time.
The heated wood floors of the hallway warmed Luke’s cold toes, and Josh Groban’s voice drifted from the speakers in the kitchen—one of Brooke’s presets. The unmistakable smell of frying bacon overwhelmed him. He sighed in relief. If Brooke was making breakfast, she couldn’t be too mad.
“I miss you too.” The voice was Brooke’s, and Luke froze in the hallway. She must be on the phone with Antonio. He peeked around the corner. Brooke stood behind the six-foot long island, mixing some sort of batter—pancake, if the griddle was any indication. The diamond in her engagement ring caught the light, sending a rainbow across the white shaker cabinets and a knife through his heart. He still wasn’t used to seeing it on her finger.
“I saw the pictures too. I’m sorry. But I couldn’t let him go home with that floozy.” A pause as she listened to something Antonio said in response. “I know I’m not being fair to you. I promise, you do come first. I’ll set better boundaries in the future.”
Luke closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He’d noticed Antonio and Brooke fighting more and more lately, and this confirmed his suspicion that he was a big part of that. He didn’t like Antonio. He was always ordering Brooke around, and was a little too arrogant for his own good. But Brooke seemed genuinely in love, and Luke hated causing her trouble.
“I’ll talk to Luke again. I’ll take care of this, promise. I love you too. Bye.”
Clearing his throat, Luke walked into the kitchen.
“Hey,” Brooke said, glancing up from the batter. She looked adorable in her rumpled jeans and T-shirt from last night. Her face was devoid of makeup, her hair pulled back in a loose messy bun. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. I’ve been banging pots for twenty minutes. Aspirin’s on the counter.”
He grabbed the two white pills and swallowed them dry. “You could’ve borrowed a pair of my sweats instead of sleeping in jeans.” Before Antonio, she would’ve done so without blinking. But since the engagement four weeks ago, things had been changing.
Luke dipped a finger into the pancake batter, and Brooke swatted at his hand. But it was playful, so maybe they were okay.
“I’m engaged now. I shouldn’t be spending the night over here in any type of clothes. That’s the last time I babysit your drunk butt.”
He winced at the accusation in her tone. “At least it’s a holiday, right?”
She grunted. “You made me miss out on Black Friday shopping.”
“I’ll buy you whatever you wanted.”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “I’m not taking your money.” She stirred the batter a few more times, then poured some on the griddle. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”
“You didn’t have to cook. And you didn’t have to stay last night, either.” If Antonio found out she’d slept over, he’d pout and throw a tantrum like a spoiled toddler. From the calm voices of the phone conversation, Luke was guessing she hadn’t told him.
“The breakfast is to help make this conversation suck less.” Brooke slid a tablet across the black granite counter top. “Mitch called. Google Alert directed him to this about an hour ago. Obviously he’s thrilled.”
“Mitch needs to relax.” Luke woke the tablet with a swipe. A web page was already pulled up to a popular tabloid. One of the less reputable ones, if there was such a thing. And there, on the front page, was a photo of him and Candi, lips locked in a sloppy kiss. The picture was grainy, as though taken long-range with a cell phone. In big, black letters across the top, the headline proclaimed, “Billionaire Turkey Bags a Holiday Treat.”
Luke clenched his hand into a fist. He never should’ve let Candi kiss him. He couldn’t believe he’d almost gone home with her. He glanced at Brooke, hoping to gauge her reaction. She busily flipped bacon, but her lips were pursed into a line.
“Must’ve been a slow news day,” he said.
“Read the story.”
Oh no. He clicked on the article and opened it. There were two more grainy photos—one of Brooke helping him to the car, and another of Brooke and Candi talking. The photo made it look like they’d been in a cat fight. Luke didn’t remember anything like that.
He read the caption. Luke Ryder was seen leaving the club with Brooke Pierce, who still sports her engagement ring from artist Antonio Giordano. Pierce and Giordano met through a matchmaker at Toujour, where Pierce is an employee. Despite that, it has long been rumored that Pierce is carrying on a not-so-secret affair with Ryder. Luke swallowed. The article couldn’t be further from the truth.
“I’m sorry, Brooke. I didn’t mean to drag you into this again.” He sheepishly motioned to her phone on the counter. “I heard you talking to Antonio. He’s pissed, isn’t he?”
“Yes, and I can’t blame him. I see red every time a girl so much as flirts with him. And you and I are constantly being linked together in the media. It’s not easy for Antonio.” She pointed her spatula at Luke. “I assured him I’d do whatever necessary to stay out of the papers and squash the rumors.”
“I’m sorry,” Luke repeated. He curled his fingers into his palm. She acted as if being linked romantically to him was the worst possible thing.
Brooke flipped the pancakes. “Out of all the girls in the club, you had to pick Candi. Have you forgotten how crazy she is?”
Maybe.
“You’ve been showing up in the media a lot lately.”
“Not true,” Luke said.
“Talia, how many times has Luke been mentioned online recently?”
“Fourteen times in the last month,” Talia said, her voice surrounding them from all sides.
Luke’s jaw clenched. “Of course I’m in the news a lot right now. Ryder Communications’ founder just died.”
Brooke grunted.
“There’s nothing between me and Candi.”
She removed the bacon and blotted it with a paper towel. “She didn’t seem to know that. You two were quite the item in college.” Was it Luke’s imagination, or did she sound angry? Maybe even jealous?
Don’t get your hopes up. Despite Antonio’s many, many flaws, Brooke seemed committed. Why else would she have accepted the ring?
“I had a momentary lapse in judgment, nothing more,” Luke said.
Brooke put a pancake on each p
late, then took the saddle barstool next to his. “You’re spiraling. I know you miss your dad. I do too.”
“Of course I miss him. He’s barely been gone a month.”
“I know. And I won’t pretend to understand what you’re going through. But this …” She motioned to the tabloid. “She stole the door off your car when you broke up with her.”
Luke savagely bit off a chunk of bacon. “I was drunk last night.”
“You didn’t used to drink very much or very often.”
Life was easier to handle with alcohol. He didn’t have to remember the death rattle he’d listened to for five hours or his mom’s sobs after his dad breathed his last. He didn’t have to recall how the company’s stock still hadn’t recovered and he was a woefully unprepared and inadequate CEO. He didn’t have to think about how he’d lost Brooke. “So I showed up in the tabloids again. Their next big story is ‘Stars Without Makeup!’ I don’t think I have much to worry about.”
“Oh, I disagree. You know Darius and the rest of the board are going to hate this.”
Luke grimaced. That much was true. Darius was old fashioned, and loudly disapproved of Luke’s every action. As though being chairman of the board of directors gave him the right. “I can handle him. The most I’ll get is another lecture on how I need to man up and act like I’m forty.”
“Mitch is worried. He says stockholders are really nervous.”
Luke snorted. “What does Mitch know? He’s just my personal assistant.”
“He’s more dialed in to the company than you are. The anniversary gala is really important, and he wants to keep the focus on that and not you. Try to stay out of the papers for a week, okay?”
The anniversary gala next weekend. Just thinking about it made Luke want to take another drink, or maybe go lift some weights. His father had been so excited about the celebration—thirty years since he’d started the company out of his basement. He’d planned a lot of the event, and had been determined to be there. The memories stung. “I’m not going.”
“You say that now, but you’ll change your mind by next Friday.”
“It’s too hard, okay? I’ll go to the press release for the lung cancer foundation next month, but not the gala.” The company was nearly ready to announce their nonprofit, and Luke hoped it would help shareholders feel more positively about the dipping stock.
“You’re strong. You can do this. You think the board is going to freak about the tabloid? Try not showing up to the most highly publicized company event of the decade. Besides, it’ll destroy your mom if you don’t attend. And it’s disrespectful to your father’s memory.”
She was right—Brooke was always right. He’d have to go. “Are you coming with me?”
“Of course. Zoey and I will both be there. Antonio won’t be back until the day after the party.”
He knew she was bringing Zoey for Antonio’s sake. Brooke hadn’t been Luke’s “plus one” to an event since she and Antonio started dating. Rule #11 effectively voided Rule #4. It was yet another reason to hate Antonio.
“Eat up,” Brooke said. “You’re braving the Black Friday sales with me. Maybe there’s still some good deals left.”
Luke rolled his eyes, but obediently shoveled another bite into his mouth. A day spent with Brooke was heaven, no matter where they went.
CHAPTER THREE
Brooke poked her head into Zoey’s bedroom, then rolled her eyes at the disaster she saw. Clothes were thrown haphazardly about, draped over the bed and littering the floor. Makeup spilled across the dresser, and a bottle of nail polish sat open. For just a moment, Brooke was taken back to the arguments the two of them had had as Freshman sharing a tiny dorm room. They’d both been much happier since moving into an apartment with two bedrooms.
“Zo?” Brooke asked. “We’re going to be late.”
Zoey poked her head out of her private bathroom. “Almost ready,” she said. She disappeared again, and emerged less than a minute later. She stepped over the piles of clothes, carefully placing her stilettoed feet. She tossed aside a pair of jeans and a few shirts before locating her purse. She held it up, triumphant. “We can go now.”
Brooke crossed her arms. Zoey looked glamorous and edgy as usual. Her dark ebony hair fell straight over her shoulders, highlights of bright pink throughout. Dramatic eye makeup made her brown eyes pop. She wore a pencil skirt and lacy blouse, sure to tempt all her clients to give up on Toujour and beg Zoey for a night on the town.
“If you would put your purse the same place every night, then you wouldn’t make us late for work,” Brooke said.
Zoey laughed. “We’ve never been late. You make sure of that.” She shut and locked the apartment door, and they headed to Brooke’s car.
“With an eleven o’clock start time, you’d think we wouldn’t be rushing,” Brooke pointed out. Not that she really minded. After eight years as friends, she’d gotten used to Zoey’s penchant for tardiness.
Zoey stifled a yawn. “I didn’t get home last night until almost three.”
“Clubbing again?”
“On a date. He was kind of a jerk, but totally loaded. I ordered every dessert on the menu.”
Zoey and Brooke chatted as they drove the short fifteen minutes to Toujour. Brooke parked her VW bug and they both got out of the car.
“Think you’ll be able to keep busy all eight hours today?” Zoey asked.
Brooke grunted. “I hope so. I’m quickly running out of matches for a few of my clients.”
Brooke swung open the front door to Toujour and was immediately hit with the spicy-sweet scent of Dragon’s Blood incense. Even after five years, it still overwhelmed her every time she entered the lobby. Christmas music played softly through the hidden speakers, and a small Christmas tree decorated in hearts, cupids, and wedding ring ornaments sat in one corner of the reception area. Lianna, the receptionist, sat behind a tinsel-lined black desk.
“Good morning, Lianna,” Zoey said.
Lianna glanced up from her computer. “Morning,” she said. Her eyes were bleary behind her thick glasses frames, and her blonde hair was tousled as though she’d rushed getting ready. Brooke glanced at Lianna’s computer. A game of Solitaire was pulled up. Lianna absently moved one of the cards.
“Phones are quiet this morning,” Brooke muttered to Zoey. They walked down a short hallway that opened into the heart of the building. Cubicles filled the center of the large space, and small rooms called parlours lined the outside wall. Posters of happy couples were on the front of each door, no doubt meant to remind clients of the success they’d soon experience in love.
Zoey and Brooke’s shared cubicle was near the center of the room. Zoey set her purse on the desk and they both sank into their chairs. Brooke fired up her computer, dread already curling in her stomach. She was down to eleven clients, barely enough to keep her busy each day, and with each failed date the pool of potential matches shrunk even further.
“Have you decided if you’re going to your dad’s yet?” Zoey asked.
Brooke frowned. She clicked on the welcome icon and entered in her password. “I probably should. I haven’t visited since the fourth of July.”
“Wow, it’s been that long?”
Brooke tapped her foot against the floor. “Yeah.” Ever since her dad cheated on her mom, she hadn’t been able to look at him the same. Their relationship had improved since the divorce, but she knew it would never be what it had once been.
Her dad had ditched Shandi, the woman he’d gotten pregnant while still married to Brooke’s mom, not long after Jason was born. Now he was married to Miranda, a woman Brooke genuinely liked, and they had four-year-old twin girls together. She hoped this relationship would last.
“I should go,” Brooke said. “To see my sisters, if nothing else.”
“It won’t be so bad,” Zoey said. “You’ll eat dinner, chat for an hour, and leave. I bet Miranda puts on a fantastic Thanksgiving spread, even if it is December now.”
�
��That alone is reason enough to go,” Brooke agreed. Miranda was a fantastic chef. Brooke pulled out her phone and quickly texted her dad. A week from Saturday at one o’clock is great for a late Thanksgiving celebration. Can we bring anything?
She hadn’t expected him to text back right away. As a dentist, he didn’t usually have a lot of down time during work hours. But he must’ve been between patients, because he quickly texted back, Nope, I’ve got it covered. I’m so glad you and Antonio can come!
“It’s done,” Brooke said, setting her phone on the desk. It would be good to spend time with her family again. She should make more of an effort with her father, so things wouldn’t be awkward at the wedding. And she really did miss her brother and sisters.
“Good.” Zoey unplugged her laptop and stood. “My client should be here soon. Cross your fingers the date went well, because if it didn’t I have no idea who I’m going to match him up with next.”
“Good luck,” Brooke said. Zoey nodded and headed toward one of the parlours. Brooke pulled up her own list of clients, clicking on one of the profiles. She was a little concerned about finding a match for this woman. Kate had been on five first dates, and hadn’t clicked with any of them. With barely one hundred clients left at Toujour, and less than half of those male, Brooke was running out of options fast.
She didn’t understand why people weren’t signing up for Toujour in droves. It was so much more than online dating. Toujour’s professional matchmakers provided relationship advice, tips on dating, and spent hours finding the perfect match for their clients. And that was only the beginning. Brooke knew Toujour worked. It was how she’d met Antonio, after all.
Brooke reviewed the notes she’d taken the last time she met with Kate, making sure all the keywords were there for the computer. Then she clicked a button to run a search for matches. Anything above sixty percent compatibility was considered a good potential match, and anything less than fifty percent wasn’t worth looking at.
Miss Match Page 2
