Harte Strings: The Billionaire Matchmaker, Part Two
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I’d have to be very careful around Lottie. Would I be able to hide my growing feelings for Lazer once all of us were spending hours and hours together?
“All of our clients deserve true love.” I smiled back at Lottie, closing down the discussion.
“Some more than others, is all I’m saying.” Her grin was perfectly devious and double-edged.
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was encouraging me to go after him. She’d been known to nudge me toward some of our more desirable clients. None had tempted me. Until now…
The plane banked. We approached our destination from the north, cruising down the sound. Seattle came into view to our left, gleaming and glittering in the early afternoon light.
Home, I thought. Would it be? Or would it come to represent heartbreak and failed promise?
Lottie stared out the window, too, quiet. This was her first trip to Seattle. She was taking it seriously.
“Well?” I asked. “What do you think?”
She smiled. “Not bad. From the sky.” She paused. Her eyes went wide. “Now that’s an awesome sight.”
I looked out the window to see what she was seeing. Mt. Rainier appeared. My heart fluttered. That mountain, volcano, whatever, was awe-inspiring against the blue August sky. Maybe the skies in Seattle really were the bluest blue. I hoped so.
We approached and landed at Boeing Field just south of the city. When the aircraft had safely landed, taxied, and stopped, the captain got out, opened the passenger door, and put out the steps. Our flight attendant escorted us and wished us a pleasant stay.
I had a moment of indecision and insecurity. I was usually a confident traveler, but now I didn’t know what to do. Did I tip the flight attendant? I decided not. Lazer would take care of it like he’d done everything else.
“Our bags?” I asked the flight attendant.
She smiled. “Taken care of. We’ll make sure they get to your final destination.”
And then we were out the door and down the steps. Manhattan in August can be unpleasantly hot and muggy. Here in Seattle, the temperature was warm and pleasant and less humid. I liked that already.
A car, a Mercedes, in fact, waited for us. I glanced at Lottie. She and I exchanged another of our mad grins. If we’d been alone we would have raved about being met on the tarmac by a fancy car and driver. This was certainly the way to live.
Our driver was friendly. “Welcome to Seattle.” He held the door for us as we got in the car, and then got our bags from the pilot and loaded them in. We were off in minutes.
“How long is the trip?” I asked the driver.
Lazer was hosting the corporate retreat at his mountain lodge. I’d never been there, but I assumed it had to be at least an hour or two away. It was a mountain lodge, after all, and the mountains were on the horizon.
The driver looked at us in his mirror with a surprised expression. He grinned. “Not long.”
Less than two minutes later, he pulled to a stop in front of a helicopter on the other side of the tarmac from where our plane had landed. “We’re here.”
Lottie and I exchanged grins again.
“We were driven the length of the airport,” she whispered in my ear. “Incredible. Now that’s service.”
“No, that’s luxury.” I stared at the helicopter and shook my head.
As we stepped out of the car, we were met by another pilot. A thin, tan, wiry man of about forty or forty-five with the look of former military about him.
He smiled at us. “I’m Gary. I’ll be flying you to Lazer Lodge today.”
“Ashley.” I shook his hand. “And this is Lottie. It’s a beautiful day for a helicopter ride.”
“That it is.” He helped us into the copter and loaded our bags.
When we were all safely strapped in, and had headphones on, he turned to me. “How’d you like a quick tour of the city before we head for the mountains? Mr. Grayson said to make sure you like what you see here.”
I glanced at Lottie again. She nodded.
“We’d love a tour,” I said.
Gary grinned back. “That’s what I was hoping to hear. We’ll swing out over Puget Sound and around the city before we head east into the Cascades.”
He started the helicopter up. The blades spun with their characteristic whoomp, whoomp, whoomp. I lost myself in their white noise. This was another first. I’d never ridden in a helicopter before. I grinned like a kid. This really was life’s amusement park I was in.
Within minutes we were in the air over Seattle. Maybe I should have paid more attention to the sights. The water. The mountains. The sparkling skyscrapers. The landmarks—the Space Needle, the Wheel, the Market. They were all beautiful.
But I saw something even better—promise, love in the air, and eligible men, men, men! Handsome men. Men eager to stake their claim on a woman, take her off the market, and settle down. Men like that were every matchmaker’s dream.
Beautiful Seattle men, I think I love you already! I certainly love the idea of you. Don’t disappoint me.
Men, even in today’s enlightened age, were the relationship drivers. They were still expected to make the moves and pop the question. Part of my job as a matchmaker was to coach them on their role, encourage the more timid among them to make their moves. An eager male client base would put me on the fast track to matchmaking success.
But it was more than money for me. It was a passion, my life’s calling, a way to make others happy. Now that my heart was coming to life again after my husband’s death, seeing hard-to-match, desperate people finding their special someone gave me hope that maybe, just possibly, there was another man out there for me. He wouldn’t be Ruck. No one would ever be Ruck. But having loved so well once, I wanted it again.
Okay, I had made a classic mistake of sleeping with Lazer just hours after meeting him. I mean, come on. How could anyone resist a guy as hot and seductive and gorgeous as him? But any good matchmaker, including me, will tell you that if you want a serious relationship with someone, you should hold off on sleeping with them as long as possible. There are scientific studies that back up the anecdotal evidence we, as professional matchmakers, see all the time. Marriages where people have waited until they got to know and trust their partner before sleeping with them have also been proven to last longer and be happier than those of people who jumped in the sack immediately.
I’m not making any moral judgments, obviously. Just repeating the finding of the studies. I want all of my clients to have the best possible chance of finding the right mate.
If you want to hook up, realize that it falls under the just-for-fun category. A fling. There are exceptions always, of course. But expect to be the rule, not the exception.
I knew all that when I hooked up with Lazer. At the time, all I was looking for was fun. Or so I thought. It was hard to pass up a night with a hot, intelligent billionaire. I hadn’t expected my night with Lazer to be more than a one-time hookup. I went in with eyes wide open. And got blindsided.
I’d been wrong. About my relationship with Lazer ending there. I couldn’t get him out of my mind.
Now there was only one way to correct the mistake I’d made in sleeping with him mere hours after meeting him. Become a hookup virgin. Reset the relationship clock by remaining strictly hands-off with him.
What could possibly go wrong? Besides everything.
Chapter 2
Lazer Grayson
Lazer Lodge, my mountain retreat, was more than a quiet cabin in the woods. It was where I thought most clearly and plotted my next investment and business moves. Where I entertained friends. Seduced beautiful women. And hosted retreats for my various business ventures. Something about the clean, fresh mountain air, the scent of fir trees, and the views that extended seemingly into eternity inspired creativity. And romance. Being away from the clutter of the city gave me clarity and vision. And the edge in romantic liaisons.
Lazer Lodge had become so popular that I occasionally rente
d it out or loaned it to friends. I’d held my buddy Justin’s inauguration into the prestigious billionaires’ club EIEIO here. And made it double for a wedding reception. The lodge was the perfect place to lay out the groundwork for my new matchmaking venture with Ashley Harte and the guys.
Ashley Harte. Something about that woman had worked its way into my very blood. The thought of her made me hot. Made me smile. Made me want more with her than I had ever wanted with a woman. The intensity of my feelings was frightening. There are women you burn for. Women you fantasize about. And women who you simply want to be with, or so I’ve heard, not personally having had the experience before. I’ve had female friends. Women I liked to hang with. But I’d never been a friends-with-benefits kind of guy. Women were either platonic friends or women I wanted to sleep with.
I’d never found that elusive combination of the two. Friend and lover. Soul mate, as Ashley would call it. Generally when the thrill of a new conquest wore off, I moved on. That made me sound like an ass. But I never made any pretenses about it. I was always upfront that I didn’t want more. Some of my relationships had lasted six months, maybe a few more. I was always exclusive while it lasted. But nothing stuck. I usually got bored and moved on. Maybe I’d been picking vapid, shallow women. Or maybe I was just an arrogant dick.
My two good buddies, Riggins and Justin, had been trying to convince me that when I found the right woman, there would be no thoughts of moving on. Only a deep love and desire to keep that woman forever. Grab her and caveman her right off the market. I laughed to myself at the imagery. I couldn’t see myself dragging a woman back to my cave.
Ashley was the first woman I’d met that had piqued the slightest desire in me to see if there was more. All I knew for sure at this point was that the sex between us was explosive. I thought about her constantly, and not just about taking her to bed. I had the gut feeling that if I didn’t explore my budding feelings for her, I’d always be sorry.
Risks. I took them. Was I ready to risk my heart? For the right woman, an extremely reserved maybe. What no one tells you is that success has a price. In almost every aspect of your life. Nothing comes free. The price of mine was making the stakes of falling in love astronomical. Fall in love when you’re young and poor and you don’t worry that the other person only loves you for your money. Or your power. Or your fame. Or will leave you and try to take everything you’ve worked for with her.
Now, hell, I knew there were women I got just because of those things. And here’s the real shit—a roll in the sack? Fine. I’d take it. Send them a bauble after. That was nothing to me.
I had a standing account at one of the top jewelry stores in Seattle. They kept a record of what I’d sent to whom so that no one got a duplicate. Every woman felt special and unique. I mixed it up. That was part of my charm. Ginny, my private jewelry salesperson, had exquisite taste, and earned every penny of her commission. She even had guidelines on file for the price range and type of jewelry to send for each occasion and situation, including duration of the relationship. She knew my style and did a great job of imitating it. I suspected there were women who slept with me as much to get the treat as anything. It was the trophy, a status symbol. The equivalent of a notch on their bedpost, a bauble in their jewelry collection.
I know, this sounded really douchey on one level. But I treated every woman with respect. Had fun with them. Kept my mouth shut and never badmouthed them. Even when they lashed out at me after. No secret recordings. Never released tacky sex tapes or nude photos. Never took them. I made every woman feel as special as I knew how when I was with her. Gave them romance and let them go when the fun was gone.
All good. All doable. All part of my persona as the boy billionaire. The playboy billionaire. My heart was safe. My body had fun. No harm. No foul.
Committing myself? Being willing to risk my fortune on a union? And, more importantly, devote my time and attention to a woman? Time and attention were my most valuable commodities. My real assets and moneymaking tools. For good reason, I was stingy with them. Jealous of them.
This was nothing new for me. I’ve always been like this. In high school, I didn’t see the need for a steady girlfriend. Not that a geek like me had much of a chance of getting one. When it came time for senior prom, there were girls who just wanted dates and would have gone with anyone. Including me.
I could have picked one of them up. But my parents weren’t going to foot the prom bill. Especially not for a girl who was just using me to show up. I would have had to work extra shifts at my crappy minimum-wage job to pay for a prom date. I weighed the two outcomes in the balance and decided a date with a girl who wasn’t into me wasn’t worth the time away from my software projects and studies. I didn’t go to my prom. So shoot me. There were no girls I thought were worth the sacrifice.
I’d changed. Gotten richer. But I was still me, with my basic philosophies. Simply working on a grander scale. I could put minimal time in for a bit of fun and spend what was an insignificant amount for me on trinkets and romantic dates. That was as far as it went.
Until Ashley picked me up in that bar. I should have run the opposite direction when I saw her sitting there in that red dress. Instead, I walked right into her trap.
She came on to me. There was no doubt about that. Neither of us had been looking for more. Looking or not, we’d found something. What exactly, and how permanent, was yet to be determined.
I wasn’t committed to the idea she could be the one. I wasn’t even certain there was a “one” for everyone. But I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Now I’d done something I hadn’t done for any other woman—started a business with her to get to know her better.
It amused me to think I’d gone to those lengths. It also scared the shit out of me. If I hadn’t been absolutely convinced the venture was a moneymaker and worth the trouble, I wouldn’t have done it, no matter what I felt. But I couldn’t discount the enticement of working with Ashley.
I was mixing business and pleasure. Many would say that’s a dangerous combination. Maybe it was. I was about to find out.
For now, Ashley and her machinations amused me. And puzzled me at the same time. Women usually didn’t stump me. Which only intrigued me more.
Ashley thought she’d cleverly tricked me into an experiment to find me a wife and show me the beauties of matrimony by signing me up as our new venture’s first client. She’d convinced me of the beauty of the plan by stressing the publicity we’d get having a billionaire in the pool.
How naïve did she think I was? Me, stay celibate? Hardly. But I was going to enjoy the show. What kind of women would she match me with? How much fun was I going to have dating in the public eye and promoting the business? Making her jealous. Would that throw her into my arms? Or backfire completely?
No matter what happened, I was going to enjoy the game.
And all this bullshit about her not sleeping with clients? She wanted to sleep with me again. That wasn’t arrogance. That was simple biology. I’d read her book and how she believed in the cuddle hormone. If that was true, she was hooked on me already.
You think I didn’t recognize animal desire when I saw it in a woman’s eyes? Right.
Her eyes blazed with it. The physical attraction between us was off the scale. How long would it take for her to break her own rule?
We were about to see. I wasn’t about to fight fair. What was the fun in that? Bring out the heavy artillery, my boy, as my grandpa used to say. The old coot had been a playboy in his day. Heartbreakers ran in the family.
I was breaking out Lazer Lodge, fresh mountain air, and all the romantic trappings of a business that focused on falling in love. And because Ashley was as much in love with the business of business as I was, I was going to woo her with the best marketing, PR, advertising, and brand teams in the country.
I’d hired them all, including the premier firm for naming businesses. They’d be here this week presenting to the team. Love, if it wasn’t in the air, woul
d certainly be on the whiteboards and presentations.
Ashley was going to love my friends, too. A tip for all the gentlemen out there—if a woman approved of your friends, you had a leg up. If she hated them, watch out. It was either bye-bye friends or your life became miserable. Another tip—surround yourself with friends who are funny, charming, good looking, and successful, but slightly less than you are in at least one key way. Your wingmen should never outshine you.
Arrogant again? Maybe. But no one could deny I was more successful than any of my group of college buddies. I was going to enjoy the show of watching Ashley match them up.
All in all, this business venture was shaping up to be great fun. The best fun.
“Lazer?” Brandy, my personal assistant and right-hand woman, poked her head into my Lazer Lodge office, startling me from my thoughts.
I glanced up at her.
“The caterers have arrived, along with the floral delivery,” she said. “And the boxes the marketing firm sent ahead.”
I nodded. “Good. When will my guests be arriving?”
“Miss Harte’s plane landed on time. Gary texted that he’s on the way with her and her assistant. As instructed, he gave them an aerial tour of the city.” She glanced at her watch. “They should be arriving any minute.”
I nodded my approval again.
“He’ll circle back for the guys after he drops off the women. As we discussed, he’ll be flying the other teams in beginning tomorrow, according to the schedule.”
“The conference room is set up and ready for tomorrow morning?”
“It will be. It’s in process.”
“Good.” I paused. “We’re going to do this, Brandy. Seattle won’t know what hit it. And the rest of the world shortly after.” I grinned.
She grinned back at me. “I know that look. Stop smiling like an evil genius, boss.”
I laughed.
She shook her head. “When I took this job, I knew your business interests were all over the map. I looked forward to the variety. But matchmaking? This is something I never expected of you. Aren’t you a cynic when it comes to marriage?”