Miss Match

by Laurelin McGee

  “I accept your job offer, then. But you owe me for this. I lost a whole night’s tips to your antics. You can pay me back in cash up front.”

  He pulled out his wallet and peeled off a few bills. “I’ll do that now, as a show of good faith, and I’ll buy you a drink, too, if you’d like to stay on for the remainder of your sister’s performance.” Why he’d made that last offer, he had no idea.

  Drea’s eyes widened. “How did—?” She shook her head, changing her mind. “You know what? I don’t even want to know how you knew Lacy was my sister. Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Donovan. Blake. I think you are a fairly deplorable person right now. I’m accepting your job offer, but we are not going to be friends. No drink. Just cash. And the cash for the drink you would have bought. I’ll see you at nine Monday morning.”

  Blake bit back the smug expression that he knew was playing on his lips. It was Wednesday—he really should give her until Monday to start, but he couldn’t stop himself from correcting her. “I’ll see you Friday at nine.” He simply wanted to get a start on their new venture. Or he wanted to have the last word, assert his authority. It wasn’t like he couldn’t bear going the weekend without seeing her.

  “Fine,” she said tersely. “Friday, then.”

  When she pocketed the bills and headed out of the alley, he decided it would be prudent to wait a moment before following. Just to make sure she got to the lit street safely, of course. Not because he wanted to hold on to that moment in the bar any longer.

  Chapter Five

  “You look like an employed person. Is that a business suit? Or did you just suddenly figure out how to match clothes?” Lacy set down her cereal spoon to grin at her big sister.

  “I am an employed person. What’s that supposed to mean?” Andy poured herself a bowl as well. Brand-name cereal. With actual milk, no less. Employment was even better than she remembered.

  “That you’ve looked homeless for some time now. This look is working for you. Do you want to look nice for your douchebag boss? And before you deny it, remember I saw him. He’s hot with a capital hot.”

  “Lace! Don’t be disgusting.” Though the mention of her hot weasel boss brought an unexpected flutter to her tummy. First-day jitters. That was all it was. “I just want to make a good impression. All the chicks who work in that office are size zeros with cheekbones like razor blades.”

  She stopped pouring her milk at half an inch less than normal at the thought. Then she thought again, and added the rest. So what if Donovan is a great kisser. I’m moving into Friendzone, specifically into the neighborhood of Workville. Not that she could imagine ever being friends with the man. He was just so, so …

  Whatever he was, she couldn’t dwell long on it without feeling her cheeks flush.

  Forget the boss, focus on the work.

  Abandoning her breakfast after only a few bites, she positioned herself in front of Lacy, then buttoned and unbuttoned her blazer. “Which looks better?”

  “Are you really going to ask me? I base my outfits on a bar’s diviness versus holes in my jeans. How would I know what the white-collar crowd does?” Lacy stuck out a tongue colored by marshmallow bits as proof.

  It was effective.

  Andy retreated to her bedroom to double-check the fit of her slacks in front of the full-length mirror. Were pantsuits too 1990s? Too butch? She took off the pants and threw them on the growing pile of rejected clothes on the floor. Her room was starting to resemble the aftermath of a Black Friday sale. She was seriously regretting not going to Marshalls with the last of Donovan’s money instead of buying groceries.

  She settled on a skirt that she’d already rejected twice because it was maybe just a touch too short, which brought her to another standstill—hose or no?

  “This is definitely not just about the first day at a new job.”

  Andy startled at her sister’s voice. She turned to see Lacy leaning against the door frame, her arms folded across her chest.

  Andy rolled her eyes, dismissing the accusation while hating the feeling that her sister may have hit the nail squarely on the head. “I’m not going through this again.” She decided no hose, slipping her feet into a pair of stylish black pumps. She kicked them back off and put on ballet flats. Kicked again and went back to the heels.

  “Stop for a second, will you?”

  With a sigh, Andy pivoted to give Lacy her attention. “What?”

  Lacy approached her, settling her hands on Andy’s upper arms. “You look great. You are a good worker. You will not burn the office down. You got this.”

  Andy giggled, the reassurance from her sister releasing the knot of tension in her belly.

  “And if you’re worried about the impression you’re going to make on your hot boss,” Lacy went on, “no need. You’ve already impressed him big time. I saw the look on his face before he went after you in the bar.”

  “I’m not concerned about that in the least.” Her voice wasn’t quite as convincing as she’d hoped. She turned to the mirror to apply a final swipe of mascara. “I’ll admit he’s … attractive.” Sexy as hell was more like it, but she’d never admit that out loud. “Only on the outside, though. Trust me.” Except his behavior the other night had removed him from the total-douche category. Now he was only somewhat of a douche. Medium douchiness. Average douche-dom. Boss material.

  Lacy leaned her chin on Andy’s shoulder and met her eyes in the reflection. “The worst sort of contradiction Mother Nature can provide, isn’t it? Lucky for you he’s got the looks. It will make your job easier.”

  That was an excellent point, Andy decided. Thank God for his looks or her job would be impossible. Anytime the recall of his handsome face made her insides flutter against her will, she’d remind herself that this was his one and only selling point and revel in the effect he had on her—or, rather, the effect he had on women in general.

  With her plan of attack in place, she thanked her sister, threw her purse over her shoulder, and headed out the door toward the nearest subway station.

  Even with a stop for coffee, Andy still got to the building a good twenty minutes early. She was a little peeved that she’d been made to start before Monday, but less so than she should have been. It was her first day and she didn’t know how long it would take to get there—that had to have been the reason she’d gotten there before she needed to. Not because she was eager to get to work. Or see Donovan. Especially not that.

  Afraid that her earliness would be mistaken for something else, Andy decided to linger before going up. Luckily, the lobby had a newsstand, and she still had some change left from the Donovan signing bonus. She was perusing the gossip rags when she smelled a familiar, expensive scent. Blake’s scent.

  Andy was frozen to the spot, not able to turn and see if her guess was correct. She knew it was. And she wasn’t ready to see him—she had yet to pop one of the breath mints she’d just purchased. Not to mention the absolute trash she was reading—what an impression to make.

  “Drea.”

  At the sound of her name that wasn’t really her name at all, her thighs began to quiver and her entire core tensed. Man, what was with her body and its mixed signals? She understood why she immediately felt like punching him, but the tingle in her legs was completely ridiculous. Neither reaction was in line with her new plan to make the best of the situation.

  Pull yourself together, Andy.

  Taking a deep breath, she put on her most cordial smile and turned to greet her new boss. “Blake.”

  “You’re early. I didn’t expect to see you for another quarter of an hour.”

  It was impossible to keep her eyes from flickering to his lips as he talked. Dear God, please let him not have noticed. Forcing her gaze to meet his, she said, “I mistimed the T. First day and all.”

  “Oh. That makes sense.” He glanced at the magazine in her hand but, thankfully, didn’t poke at her choice of reading material. “Well, I’m about to go up. Would you like to accompany me or
should I meet you up there?”

  If Andy could read people—and she could—she’d say the man seemed nervous. But that didn’t make sense. Why would Blake Donovan be anxious about orienting a new employee? She obviously was still rusty with her skills. After all, she’d actually pinned the bar job as a potential career move.

  What she was certain of was her own nervousness. But delaying the inevitable was not going to ease her in any way. Plus, she was still working on that make-the-best-of-the-situation thing, and surely that included being nice to her employer. So, widening her smile a fraction of an inch, she said, “I’d be happy to accompany you.”

  “Very good.” He glanced at his watch even though he’d only a second ago noted the correct time. “They should be finished setting up your space. Shall we?” He gestured toward the elevators, inviting her to proceed before him.

  Andy twisted her lips as she walked past him. He’d indicated in his ad that she would be spending a week or so getting to know him, but after that she assumed she’d be able to get at least some of her hours in at home. Having a space set up for her in the building didn’t bode well for working remotely. And her job was of a personal nature—why was she stationed at Donovan InfoTech anyway? What was she supposed to say her title was? Surely Blake didn’t want his entire company to know the real purpose of her presence. She made a mental note to clear those questions up first thing.

  They caught the elevator just as it was about to go up. It was crowded, and in order to get everyone in, Andy had to press closer to her boss than she would have liked. Or maybe it was exactly as close as she liked. The shudder that ran through her at the touch of his body pressed against her back seemed to suggest as much.

  He leaned into her ear. “Are you okay?”

  His breath skated across her neck, sending yet another chill down her spine. Unwilling memories of the night at the bar invaded her mind—the taste of his lips, his body melding into hers, the unmistakable bulge pressed against her hip. A third shiver rolled through her limbs.

  Dammit.

  “I’m fine,” she snapped before he could ask again. “Cold. It’s cold. I’m cold.” Yeah, he’d buy that. It was only seventy-five degrees outside and the air-conditioning hadn’t been turned on, at least not in the elevator. She gestured to the skirt that now seemed obscenely short under his gaze.

  “Maybe I should warm you up.”

  Did he really just say that? And if he did, did he mean it the way it sounded? She pivoted toward him. “What was that?”

  He cleared his throat, something he seemed to do frequently. “I said that maybe some tea would warm you up. Or coffee, if you’re not a tea drinker. We have both in the employee lounge. My secretary could get some for you, if you like.”

  She raised her near-empty coffee. “I have some already. Thanks.” Then she turned away from him, hoping he hadn’t noticed her flush. Of course he hadn’t said what she’d thought. She was ridiculous for thinking that he had.

  Andy spent the rest of the ride admonishing herself. She really had to get a grip if this job was going to work out. First of all, she didn’t even like the man. Her body simply kept reacting to an unfortunate encounter they’d had nearly thirty-six hours ago. It was physiological, that was all. It meant nothing.

  Second, she was supposed to be finding a match for Blake Donovan, not daydreaming about being his match.

  Third, why did he smell so damn good anyway? It just wasn’t natural.

  By the time they arrived at their floor, the crowd had thinned and Andy was no longer pushed against her boss. It made thinking considerably easier. That would be the answer to making their relationship work—no contact. Simple as pie. She had no plans to touch him again anytime soon.

  They walked in silence through Donovan InfoTech toward Blake’s office. Andy wondered if he would send her to HR or if he would leave her with his secretary. Or would he handle her paperwork himself? She looked at the cubicles as they passed. Would one of those spaces be hers? Again, the notion of matchmaking while her co-workers wrote strings of computer code at the desks next to her seemed strange.

  His secretary stood as they approached. “Good morning, Mr. Donovan.”

  Blake didn’t return the greeting. “Put together some paperwork for Ms. Dawson. She’ll be a contract employee.”

  The woman nodded, not seeming to notice or care that he’d neglected to use a please. “Will you want it under the business account or personal?”

  He considered for a moment. “Business.” He nodded for Andy to follow him to his office.

  After sharing a sympathetic smile with the secretary, she tossed her cup in the trash and joined Blake at his door. It was shut and evidently locked since he pulled a key from his pocket and inserted it into the knob.

  Sure to not stand too close to him, she took the moment to ask her first question. “You’re running my employment through the corporation? How are you justifying that?”

  He glanced at her as if the answer was obvious. “I told you I needed a wife for public appearances. That justifies qualifying you as a business expense.”

  “So romantic,” she muttered under her breath.

  Her words didn’t escape her boss. “Practical, Drea. Practical.” He opened the door and swept his arm out for her to enter.

  Andy bit back the urge to argue and headed in. Then she stopped abruptly, causing Blake to crash into her and send goose bumps racing down her skin.

  So much for no contact.

  “Sorry.” She stepped away from him and gestured toward the sight that had halted her—a small mahogany desk sat opposite Blake’s large one. A desk that hadn’t been there three days before. “What’s this?” She feared she already knew the answer.

  “It’s your desk,” Blake said matter-of-factly.

  That was what she’d been afraid of.

  “My desk is in here? With you?” She tried to keep her volume down, but really, she didn’t try that hard.

  His forehead creased. “Is there a problem?”

  “Is there a problem?” She echoed his phrase and inflection, dismayed that he couldn’t see it for himself. “Yes, there’s a problem. We’ll be together. Alone. Behind closed doors.”

  Blake nodded as if understanding. “You’re worried about what will happen between us.”

  “Wha—no!” She was mortified. “Your employees will think things are going on that aren’t. That’s not the kind of reputation I want floating around about me. There will be rumors!” If the rumors were true, on the other hand …

  No, there is no other hand. This is the only hand.

  Blake shook off her concern as he walked to his desk. “There are hundreds of rumors about me. If I cared about squelching every single one of them, I’d never get anything done.”

  “But there aren’t hundreds of rumors about me.” Well, after what happened with Max Ellis, maybe there were. Which made it that much more prudent that there weren’t any new ones. However, she wasn’t willing to explain that to Blake, so she conceded. “You know what? Fine. Just fine.” She walked to her desk and deposited her purse in a drawer. “I won’t be spending much time at the office anyway.”

  Blake frowned at her from across the room. God, he was even beautiful when disgruntled. “Why not? Of course you will.”

  “For a week or so. That’s what you said in the ad.” She wouldn’t get alarmed just yet. He couldn’t mean long-term.

  “Yes, I did.” Still standing, he opened his top drawer and threw his keys inside. “For a week, I need you to spend time with me so that you can get to know what I’m looking for in a woman.”

  She tried not to roll her eyes. Did he even care what a woman might be looking for in him? How on earth was she supposed to find someone for this man? The task was impossible.

  No, she wasn’t going to think that way. She could do this. Either she could search for a woman equally as shallow or she’d have to search for his humanity. The latter sounded perhaps more difficult, but also more
beneficial to the world in general. If she could discover something redeeming about Blake Donovan, something maybe even a little lovable, that was how she’d advertise him when searching for his match.

  But to make that happen, she needed to be in control of her schedule.

  Placing her palms on the surface of her desk—the desk, she wasn’t going to think of it as hers—she braced herself for her next question. “Then after that week, my hours can be performed outside the office. Correct?”

  “Correct.”

  She started to let out a sigh of relief.

  “Except on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I want you in the office those days.”

  Her back straightened, rearing for a fight. “In the office? But you didn’t say that in the interview.”

  “I didn’t not say that in the interview.”

  She gaped, not sure if she was more surprised by his working terms or that Blake Donovan would use a double negative.

  When she got past the surprise, the denial set in. She could not work with him in the office every day. Could. Not. Between his inside-ugly and his outside chiseled perfection, he would drive her to drink. And even with what he was paying her, she couldn’t afford the amount of alcohol that she’d need.

  Besides, it was impractical considering her assignment. “How am I supposed to find you dates if I’m in the office all the time?”

  Blake unbuttoned his jacket and sat. “You won’t be in the office all the time. You’ll be here Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. You can use Tuesday and Thursday to do your shopping, so to say.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping it hid her cringe at his choice of words. “And what will I be doing when I’m here?” She sounded like a petulant child, but, seriously, what did he expect?

  He seemed happy to tell her. “Work using social media and the like. You can conduct phone interviews with potential dates. Plus, the more time you’re with me, the better you’ll get to know me, effectively helping you to find appropriate matches. I also need you around so I can report how each date goes. Having you here is convenient.”