It was better that they’d simply said goodbye, and left it at that.
Maybe if she kept telling herself that, she would start to believe it was true.
“Well, I’ve got good news,” Clare said briskly, clearly picking up on Lisa’s pensive mood. “You’ve got your first date through Mister-Match.com!”
That startled Lisa out of her reveries. “What?” A date? With a man?
“Yep.” Clare smiled gleefully. “His name is Reese. Kind of classy, don’t you think? You’re meeting him for breakfast tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow?” Her stomach dropped. “I can’t. I’m scheduled to be here tomorrow morning at eight.”
Clare arched an eyebrow. “Good thing the person who sets your work schedule is the very same person coordinating your love life. I gave your first appointment to Willow. You don’t need to be in till eleven.”
“Love life,” Lisa repeated flatly. “Right. A breakfast date? Is that even a thing? Like, is that allowed?”
Clare snorted. “If you’re asking whether it’s legal, yes, it’s legal.”
“No, you know what I mean.” Lisa frowned. “And I don’t know if I like the name Reese. It sounds sort of stuck-up. Don’t you think it sounds stuck-up? Kind of WASP-y?”
“Maybe it bothers you because it starts with an R,” Clare suggested. “Too similar to the Rod. Anyway, you’re just having cold feet. Willow and I chose this guy together, and we think you’re really going to like him. You’ll have fun, I promise.”
“A breakfast date,” Lisa said again. “Tomorrow.”
“Oh, stop thinking so hard,” Clare said dismissively, turning toward her computer. “I told you we’d do all the work behind the scenes, and all you have to do is show up and fall in love. So show up at Sweetish Hill tomorrow morning at nine, and fall in love with Reese.”
Lisa did her best to smile, although the truth was, she felt a bit sick. The idea of a breakfast date with Reese—or any date, with any man—didn’t sound exciting in the least.
And it wasn’t just that she wasn’t ready to plunge back into the dating world. That was part of it—this was all happening so fast. But it was also that, whoever it was she was going to meet, and however nice and interesting he might be... He wouldn’t be Adam Masters.
Later, looking back, Adam could see the interview with Kiki James had been destined to be a travesty from the start.
He arrived at the Access Austin studio twenty minutes early, and then sat around for fifteen, waiting and getting more and more nervous by the moment.
He was surprised by the nerves. He told himself they were a good thing—it was good not to be cocky. He should’ve known they were a sign of how awry everything was about to go.
Five minutes before the interview was scheduled to begin, the production assistant seated him in a black canvas director’s chair across from where Kiki James, the show’s hostess, would sit. A small live audience was already assembled in the studio, and Adam scanned the crowd with his best, most dazzling smile, making eye contact with a few people and giving out a few friendly waves before consciously tuning them out.
He needed to concentrate. He’d done his research. Kiki James was relatively new to the show and network, but not to the industry. Everything Adam had read said she was making a name for herself, and she was poised for big things in her career. Having grown his startup from the ground up in the past few years, he knew how that could be. It meant he had to draw her in as quickly as possible, to make sure she was in his corner.
No sense repeating what had happened back in February, when that reporter had thrown him under the bus and called his entire website, matchmaking method and livelihood into question.
Just then, Kiki James walked into the studio, her stiletto heels clicking smartly on the wooden floor.
Adam watched her work the room from the moment she entered. Unconsciously, he sat up a little straighter. The woman was like a politician. She had that star charisma that just beamed out of her, and she knew just how to work the audience, who had turned toward her like flowers toward the sun as soon as she’d walked in. She was grinning and engaging with them now, giving out high-fives and bantering lightly with them.
And then, suddenly, she was standing two feet from Adam, staring at him with dark, brilliant eyes.
Yep, he thought. Texas definitely had the most attractive women. With hair that fell down her back in perfect dark waves and skin the color of caramel, Kiki James looked fierce, like an Amazon warrior princess.
He was definitely going to have to tread carefully in this interview.
“Adam Match. I’m Kiki James. You can call me Kiki.”
She held out a hand to shake. Adam couldn’t help but notice she’d extended it just slightly palm-down, giving it a hint of kiss-my-ring regality.
He did his best not to chuckle as he shook her hand. “Thanks so much for having me,” he said, consciously allowing just a hint of his old Texas drawl back into his voice. It never hurt to speak like the locals, and his high school years spent in Dallas had to count for something.
“Are you ready for this?” Kiki inquired briskly as she settled herself into her own chair. The production assistant buzzed around her, arranging her hair around her face and giving her last-minute notes.
“Always.” Adam gave her his warmest grin. “As long as you go easy on me,” he added, winking to show he was joking.
It only took a moment to recognize he’d miscalculated with that one. Kiki James’s left eyebrow raised just a fraction of an inch and her gaze narrowed by an even smaller margin, but in that instant, it was clear: In asking her to go easy, he’d activated her predatory instincts.
A soft little boom of shock exploded in his abdomen.
Oops, he thought. Dan was going to be pissed if this interview went off track.
He didn’t have much time to worry about that. Within what felt like a heartbeat, the audience had been shushed, the makeup artist had come to give Adam a last once-over with his powdered brush, and then the cameras were rolling.
Kiki James gave a quick introduction of her guest and then jumped right in. She crossed her legs and leaned closer to Adam. “Tell me about The Questionnaire.”
Adam grinned. “The Questionnaire. Yep. It’s become kind of an enigma at this point.” The audience laughed. “It’s—”
“I mean, there are so many matchmaker sites,” Kiki cut in. “What makes yours unique?”
“Well, let’s see,” Adam said. “My breathtaking smile?” He laughed along with the audience.
“You make a good point,” Kiki said. “The founder of a dating website becoming a celebrity—it hasn’t really been done before. You’ve definitely got that star quality.”
“Thank you.” Adam grinned and waved as the audience hooted. He didn’t have to fake embarrassment. He appreciated the attention, but it was a little discombobulating.
“No, but really,” he said, when the audience died down, “to answer your question, other dating sites are all based on commonality. You know, I like paddle boarding and rock climbing, how about you? But, after all, variety is the spice of life. It’s okay if one person likes paddle boarding and the other likes—” He shrugged. “I don’t know, riding roller coasters. Doing macramé. Whatever. The point is, two people can appreciate and accommodate each other’s various hobbies. In fact, having different interests actually helps keep the relationship fresh, and helps make sure it’s a union of two independent people, not a merging of two personalities into one.”
Kiki narrowed her eyes. “But I thought a good relationship was all about finding someone just like you.”
“Like me?” Adam pressed a hand to his chest. “Wow, I’m flattered.”
The audience laughed, Kiki raised a suggestive eyebrow, and Adam felt like cheering. Nothing wrong with a little harmless flirtation to reel the interviewer in. He could turn this ship around, yet.
He leaned in with a little smile. “I’m kidding, of course. But real
ly, doesn’t that sound just a little bit boring—finding someone who’s just like you, nothing surprising or unexpected to look forward to, no challenges? I know I think so. That’s why I developed a matchmaking theory that allows for differences in personality while ensuring that two very different people will be able to get along long-term. My whole philosophy is based on the more mundane, everyday things that most people don’t even consider, but they’re things that will either mesh seamlessly or drive you absolutely nuts about your partner.”
Kiki nodded and smiled as if he’d just complimented her on her hair. “Wow. How many questions is The Questionnaire?”
“Seventy-five,” Adam answered. “It does take a little time to fill out, but if you’re looking for your mate, your true love...” He shrugged. “I think it’s well worth the half-hour.”
Kiki was leaning closer to Adam again, dangling her high-heeled shoe off her pantyhose-clad toe. “So what’s on The Questionnaire? Interests, likes and dislikes, musical preferences—”
Adam chuckled. “The whole I-love-long-walks-on-the-beach-and-candlelit-dinners bit, right?” The audience laughed knowingly along with him, then quieted when he shook his head. “Actually, no. At Mister Match, we get past the old athletic-type-seeking-same method of matchmaking, and get down to the nitty-gritty. The stuff that really matters, that can make or break a relationship.”
Kiki raised her eyebrows. “So, you mean the big stuff, then.”
Adam nodded. “Definitely.”
“Religion, kids or no kids, career ambitions—”
He tilted his head from side to side, waggling his fingers in the air. “No... More like, do you leave the toilet seat up or down? When you spit out your toothpaste, do you rinse out the sink afterward, or do you assume it’ll get washed down when the next person uses it?” He grinned. “I guess it covers a lot of issues of bathroom etiquette. Like I said, the truly important things.”
The audience broke out in laughter again.
Kiki was pinning him with a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, I’m not. Not at all.” Adam shifted in his chair. “That’s the genius of the Mister Match system: It really works, because it cuts through the bull to get to the real deal.”
“Right.” Kiki tossed her hair over shoulder, seeming to warm to her own flirtatious sarcasm. “Whether you hang up your coat or toss it over the arm of the couch is more important than issues such as whether to raise your children Catholic or Protestant, whether to have kids at all—”
“See,” Adam cut in, “that’s where a lot of people get tripped up in their quest for a life mate. They think those are the things that matter: having religions, goals, even musical tastes in common. I’ve studied enough intimate relationships to know that that stuff is the frills—the exterior.”
Kiki James frowned. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s important, but that’s all the kind of stuff that, if you’re getting along with your boyfriend, if you have open lines of communication, those things don’t matter as much as you might think. Not like the little, day-to-day stuff does—the things you don’t think twice about. The personal habits and little quirks that speak to a larger truth. A personal values system, if you will. Take question forty-three on The Questionnaire,” Adam suggested.
Kiki’s eyes went as wide as Bambi’s. “You’ve memorized The Questionnaire?”
“I wrote the thing, didn’t I?” Adam said with a laugh.
“That’s right.” Kiki checked her note cards. “Your bio says you studied at Dartmouth and got your Masters in Psychology from Harvard.”
“That’s right. And I spent years developing The Questionnaire and my matchmaking system, and I based them both on the most current human relationships research available. So, question forty-three. How do you respond when the phone rings at seven-thirty in the morning?”
There was a pause. Then Kiki pressed a hand dramatically to her chest, drawing a burst of laughter from the audience. “Wait, do you want me to answer?”
Adam nodded. “Sure, if you would, please.”
“Well, if the phone rings at seven-thirty I probably won’t answer, because I’m more than likely here, in makeup. Rene would murder me if I took a call while he was doing my foundation.” The audience laughed and clapped.
Adam gave a polite laugh as well. “Well, you’ve just made my point for me. Your answer indicates a lot about you—maybe more than you realize. The fact that you’re up and out of the house early every morning, preparing diligently for a show that, have I got this right?—that you created yourself? That shows you’re a very hard worker, ambitious, career-oriented. You might not match up very well with someone who answered the same question by saying he cursed the ringing phone and pulled his pillow over his head.”
Kiki nodded. “Or, maybe he would be a good match for me, depending on my answers to other questions. Like, maybe I indicate in The Questionnaire that I like to get up and eat breakfast alone in the mornings, and get out of the house before anyone else is awake.”
Adam nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Counter to your career-driven image, you’d actually match up really well with that lazy bum who doesn’t roll out of bed till noon.” The audience laughed once again.
Adam felt warmth spreading through him. He loved making people laugh, and he especially loved talking about his favorite subject—his theories about people and relationships, and what made them tick.
Kiki James must have psychically picked up on his thoughts, and on the fact that he was feeling loose and relaxed, because her next question took him completely by surprise.
“So let’s set The Questionnaire aside for a minute,” she said, and uncrossed her legs briefly to cross them again in the other direction. “Let’s talk about what everyone really wants to know.” She leaned in. “You’re notoriously private about your relationship status, but I am determined to find out. Has Mister Match made his own love match?”
Adam’s smile dimmed just a bit around the edges, and the warmth inside him cooled a degree. He started in with his stock answer to relationship questions: “Well, I normally make it a policy not to talk about my personal—”
“Oh, Adam, please.” Kiki leaned in conspiratorially, as if they shared a secret. “My assistant showed me the photos. You can come clean. It’ll just be between us.” She gave a big, hammy wink to the audience, who suddenly seemed to Adam to be grinning like wolves, panting and salivating as their teeth glinted under the studio lights.
“Um. The photos?” He ran a finger under his shirt collar. He was actually starting to get a little sweaty under these lights.
“Come on,” Kiki purred. “Who is she? Who is this mystery woman?”
Chapter 8
____________________________________
Mystery woman? Damn. Kiki had gone there—she’d brought up the photos, the ones from February, taken in Dallas with his stepsister and her son.
“You mean, Jess?” Adam shook his head with a laugh. “No, no, she’s not my mystery woman. I mean—I don’t have a mystery woman. Jess is my—”
“Oh, now, now, don’t lie to me.” Kiki’s smile was sweet and her eyes as crafty as a witch’s. “I saw the pictures. Looks like you two had a pretty intimate little lunch together, hmm?”
Actually, they’d met for coffee that day in Deep Ellum, and Benny had had a chocolate-chip cookie as big as Adam’s palm. He’d gotten chocolate all over his face and hands, and Adam and Jess had laughed and laughed. “Well—”
Kiki turned to the audience. “Looks like Adam is having a hard time remembering just a few hours ago, so let’s give him a little help, shall we?”
The audience cheered, and Adam frowned. Mystery woman...lunch...a few hours ago? The paparazzi had been outside the restaurant earlier, of course, but—things didn’t move that fast, did they?
“Look at the monitor,” Kiki was instructing him, pointing to his right. He squinted a
gainst the lights to see what was on the screen, and was dimly aware of the audience’s “Ooh”s and “Ahh”s and squeals of delight.
It was Lisa on the screen, of course. Not the photos of him and Jess and Benny from months earlier. These were the photos of him eating lunch with Lisa, just a couple of hours ago.
Freaking technology, he thought distractedly, as Kiki James told the audience, “Now, these photos were just released, less than an hour ago, and my sources tell me this was just earlier today.” The smile she gave Adam was triumphant. “Adam Match, looks like you’ve got some ’splainin’ to do.”
She’d pinned him like a bug to a shadow box. Still, he told himself, he could get out of this. He could turn this ship around.
“Now, you know Mister Match would never kiss and tell,” he started, and the audience hooted, and Kiki James’s gaze narrowed shrewdly.
“So you’re on kissing terms with this mystery woman,” she said, and Adam did his best not to wince. Why, oh, why had he used that particular phrase?
“So this is Jess.” Kiki asked. “Tell us all about her.”
“No, no—Jess is—this isn’t Jess.” He was stammering, getting flustered. He needed to take back control of this thing. If he’d ever had it in the first place.
“This isn’t Jess? Okay, so Jess must be the woman we all saw you with over Valentine’s Day,” Kiki said smoothly, and suddenly the photos on the monitor switched to the ones from February, in Dallas.
“Seems you have several women waiting in the wings,” she said archly. “A ship in every port, perhaps?”
The audience’s ooh-ing and ahh-ing kicked up a notch.
“Not in the least,” Adam said shortly. He’d just about had enough of this.
“Then tell us,” Kiki said. “I want all the dirty details—in PG terms, of course,” she added, with a wink for the audience.
Mister Match (The Match Series Book 1) Page 7
