Miss Match

by Laurelin McGee

  “I think a play, perhaps, would be good. Do people still go to plays?”

  She went to plays. She liked plays. She’d even considered theater as a major at one point.

  She could not, though, possibly consider Blake at the theater with a woman who was a second date. No way. No how.

  “No one goes to plays.” She smiled sweetly. “How about a movie?” If they can’t talk, or see each other, it’s basically a non-date.

  How is this even happening right now? A second date?

  There was zero reason for her to have this reaction. Just because she’d begun a sexual relationship with the guy did not mean she got to be upset about this. They’d worked toward this. Together. Blake’s being serious about dating was a good thing. An excellent thing.

  But serious about Jane? Talk about a dark horse.

  “A movie? Oh. Okay. Are there any, um, girl-type things out?”

  Andy couldn’t hold back her laughter, though she recognized she was using it as a substitute for that icky rage going on inside. The release felt good. When she could talk again, she asked, “Do you mean like a romantic comedy, or a drama, or a period piece?”

  “A period piece? I would never ask—oh, my God. Is that a thing?” He looked positively shell-shocked.

  Andy was dying.

  “Blake! It means a historical film!” She wiped tears of laughter away, taking some mascara along with them. Jane wouldn’t have laughs like this with him. This second date shouldn’t be happening. Should. Not.

  “I trust your judgment. You’ve seen her file, talked to her. Probably more than I have.”

  Which was exactly why Jane was all wrong for him. He didn’t even know her. She didn’t even know him.

  Wait, that wasn’t right. Well, Blake didn’t know Jane and Jane didn’t know Blake, but that was what Andy was for. She’d narrowed down his interests, matched them with Jane’s personality. Andy had paired them because she knew they’d be excellent together.

  Why the heck were you so good at your job?

  Because that was the goal, remember?

  Ah, the devil and angel Andys were back. Nice timing.

  “Anyway,” Blake said, his shoulders relaxing in exact contrast with the knot tightening in her belly, “whatever you think. God, I’m relieved. And embarrassed. But mostly relieved. I never know about these female mysteries.”

  That gave her an idea. Since the date was pointless anyway, and she had met Jane (which was what qualified her to make that judgment), she would set up a crappy date. That bland bitch would never outright tell Blake that the last thing on earth she wanted to see was an action flick set in space. And yet she would have an awful time and they wouldn’t be likely to go out again.

  Andy surfed over to a ticketing site. Oh, even better, the movie she was thinking of was apparently a sequel. She’d bet the whole second-date bonus—her stomach dropped again at the thought—that neither of them had seen the first. The previews she recalled were laughable, but not in the campy kind of way. Just in the kind of way that made you wonder who exactly greenlit that project.

  When she realized this particular movie theater allowed you to choose your own seats, she almost bounced in her chair. Front row—two clicks and the worst date ever was all set up. Between the subject matter and the inevitable migraine-slash-neckaches they’d get, she could kiss Jane good-bye.

  As long as Blake wasn’t kissing Jane good-bye. Good God, had he already? She couldn’t think about that. He hadn’t mentioned it when they’d had their before-work bump-and-grind session that morning, but they’d only talked about no sex with the candidates, not no kissing. Dammit, she couldn’t revise the rules now. It would look suspicious.

  And it would totally be counterproductive because you want him to find a match.

  Well, maybe I do, devil Andy said to angel Andy, but not this one.

  With a scowl, Andy shooed away both the imaginary representations of her warring thoughts and finished her online transaction. “Okay, you’re in for a seven o’clock showing of the new Austen remake. It’s opening night, so don’t be late. There won’t be any other tickets available, I can guarantee you. Austenites are rabid.” She beamed particularly brightly. “Jane will love it. Jane. Jane Austen. Did you notice?”

  The only thing Andy felt guilty about was the fact that she didn’t feel guilty at all.

  * * *

  Blake had to admit it—he was impressed. Jane Osborne was as boring a woman as he’d ever spent an evening with, but she could certainly roll with the punches. He’d been absolutely heated when the pimply-faced kid behind the glass window had told him his tickets had gotten screwed up. He knew Andy would disapprove of him throttling the squeaky-voiced little bastard on a power trip. His most disapproving scowl and the threatening voice he used for intimidating business rivals was starting to have an effect on the kid when a cool hand settled on his arm.

  “It’s fine, Blake. I don’t mind what we see.” She smiled at him, and it seemed genuine.

  “The space movie? Are you certain?” She was obviously not the space type. Or was she? After all, Andrea hadn’t seemed like the Star Wars type, but since the initial reference she’d used enough of them he could tell she was a fan.

  “I don’t love space, but the lead was in a rom-com I liked last year, so it will be fine. Anyways, I tend to drift off in movies.”

  Ah. So not a closet space fan. He was surprised not to feel any disappointment by that. He’d made Andrea choke on her coffee last week when he’d shown her his Wookiee impression. Jane didn’t seem like the type to have reactions like that. Or passions in general. Drifting off in movies—what was she, seventy?

  On the other hand, the fact that she was fine with the unexpected turn of events was nice. He’d been on enough dates in his life where someone would say a change of plans was fine and then proceed to pout all night. He understood the rarity of a woman who genuinely didn’t mind going with the flow.

  So he painfully turned the scowl into a smile at the ticket kid and accepted the tickets to … he squinted. Martian Death Squad 2?

  Good Lord. “Popcorn?” he offered to Jane. She shook her head. Again, he was struck by the contrast between the two women. Besides the obvious physical differences—Jane was nearly his height, where he could tuck Andrea comfortably beneath his arm; Jane was Chinese to Andrea’s—whatever. What was her ethnic background? Dawson. Sounded British, but her coloring was Irish. German?

  He sighed. These mental tangents were becoming a hobby, and all of them involved his matchmaker.

  The point was, the two women could not be more different, both physically and mentally. Everywhere Andrea was feisty, Jane was placid. It was like comparing a wildcat to a tabby. All they had common was their whiskers. Blake shook his head again. That didn’t even make sense. Popcorn! That’s what he was thinking about. Who went to a movie and didn’t get popcorn? His date, apparently.

  He’d only decided to go on a second date with her because he was so sick to death of first dates. First dates were deplorable. Universally, in his experience.

  Especially lately. Why were all the submissive women either incredibly stupid or just plain mute? He wouldn’t be the successful man he was today without being able to admit the occasional hard truth to himself, and he’d realized one about Andrea while he was on his first date with Jane.

  Whatever was brewing between himself and his employee, it was infinitely more interesting than what he was experiencing with any woman she’d found for him thus far. So what was the point of continuing on with dull women? He’d tuned back in to Jane as she finished politely explaining what it was that she did. Unfortunately, he hadn’t heard a word, so he still didn’t know. Or actually care.

  But she did a Thing, and she wasn’t pushy about it, whatever it was. So he made one of his famous (in his own mind) lightning decisions. While he unraveled the tangle of feelings he was having about the matchmaker, he’d continue to date Jane. He couldn’t keep doing first date
s, but if he quit dating altogether, Andrea would no longer have a job to do. This was a perfect compromise. What a stroke of luck that this had occurred to him on a date with Jane, and not with Jamie, or the hyena.

  So popcorn or not, it looked like he was escorting Jane Osborne to a showing of Martian Death Squad 2. From the front row. He sighed, and comforted himself with the knowledge that he had scotch at home.

  * * *

  Andy’s eyes narrowed, but it was the only physical indication she was showing of her internal rage. What kind of date was this Jane woman? She’d shown all the signs of a submissive puppy in her interview. Clearly that had carried over.

  “I’m sorry the tickets weren’t what we’d planned. Was she mad?” Her voice was level, betraying no signs of her disappointment.

  “She was a trooper. The shoot-’em-up wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would be. She slept through most of it. Can you imagine?”

  Andy laughed politely. No, I can’t imagine. “So you want to arrange another date, you said?” Take it back.

  “Sure. She’s game, I’m game. What do you suggest?”

  A euthanizing. “A fancy dinner. Since the first two dates have gone well, I assume you’ll want to spend some time getting to know her more. And girls always enjoy being pampered. Seafood, maybe?” Haha. Jane doesn’t eat fish. And I know for a fact that she has nothing to say. Game, set, match.

  “Sounds good to me. It’s lobster season. We can chat over those.” Blake leaned back in his chair. “I love lobster. Lobster rolls are the best, but we’re farther down the coast from the good ones. Are you a seafood fan, Drea?”

  “It’s fine. Lobster rolls are nice.” Only my favorite! She bit the inside of her lip until the metallic taste of blood rolled through her mouth. Why was she seething over a dinner the two mismatches weren’t even having? If they went out for lobster, there would be bibs. Bibs! Nothing was less sexy.

  Which got her thinking—how unsexy could a date be? Now, that was a challenge she could accept.

  “Since rolls in a seaside shack aren’t much of a thing here, why don’t I book you a table at a nice restaurant? You can chat over some wine and get to know each other better.” She could have sworn he’d frowned at that.

  “Nice idea. A later dinner would work better for me. I have a full day Thursday. Good thing that isn’t an office day for you, eh?”

  Andy had actually booked a full spa day for Thursday in anticipation of Friday shenanigans—massage, mani/pedi, bikini wax. Not anymore. She had work to do.

  “Actually, Thursday will be a fairly full day for me as well. Lots of loose ends to tie up. I’m sorry I won’t see you before your big night, though.” Sorry not sorry. It’s just become a big night for me, too.

  A feeling of déjà vu settled over her as she purposely forgot to confirm the reservations. And on Thursday, as she removed his wallet from the suit jacket Blake had left behind during his rigorous schedule of meetings, she had déjà vu again. Because as she settled the billfold into his desk drawer, where he would never look before his date—but not find it a strange place for the wallet to be found the next day—she again felt no guilt.

  The guilt also failed to materialize on the fourth and fifth dates she sabotaged with no gluten-free menu items and another lost reservation, respectively.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Andy couldn’t keep from humming as she put on a final coat of mascara. Funny how getting laid on a regular basis could change a woman’s outlook on life. They’d stuck to their rules, maintaining their professional relationship. But after work hours, they’d christened every surface in the office. Without ever speaking about it, they both arrived early. And stayed late. And Andy had lost ten pounds from missed lunches—or perhaps, from the extra physical activity.

  Looking at her reflection, she almost didn’t see the black circles under her eyes from losing sleep over Jane. Not that she would be a problem much longer.

  Andy swept some lip gloss on and checked herself a final time in the hall mirror. She had to admit, sex looked good on her. Unlike the last time she’d readied herself to go to Blake Donovan’s house, this time she was going as herself. She also wasn’t planning any sort of seduction, though she had put on a pretty matching panty-and-bra set just in case.

  “I don’t get it.” Lacy stood next to the front window, looking below for Darrin’s van to pull up to take her to a gig and drop Andy off at Blake’s on the way. “Is this a booty call or not?”

  “It’s not.” Which was the truth. Technically.

  Lacy sounded incredulous. “You’re going to his house on a Sunday night to—”

  “To discuss possible evening activities for his dates. That’s all.” Andy walked to the coffee table to gather the files with the info she’d gathered. She really probably could have emailed them, but an in-person consult was much easier.

  Lacy gave her a once-over before returning to her post at the window. “Sounds an awful lot like an excuse for a booty call, if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t ask you.” Andy wrapped a large rubber band around her files so they’d be easier to carry. “Not that I need to explain myself to you, but Blake has a date with Jane tomorrow and I want to make sure I get all the details settled tonight. You know, stuff comes up at work. He might not have time to talk to me in between his meetings and things.” Plus, she needed time to plan her next round of sabotage.

  “That sounds so wrong.” Lacy turned to sit in the sill so she could face Andy. “How can you stand him dating another woman while he’s banging you?”

  Andy bit her lip. There was no way she was admitting to Lacy how much she couldn’t stand Blake dating Jane. If she did, then she’d have to admit what she’d done to try to stop the dates. The awful, deceitful string of bad behavior. Lacy would string her up by her thong for that kind of nonsense.

  Well. Hopefully her sabotage had proved fruitful. Though Blake had asked for another date with Jane after the last one, he’d been reluctant to discuss the evening’s agenda. Actually what he’d said was that he was too busy on Friday afternoon, but Andy couldn’t help but wonder if that was code for not that enthused. It was so obvious that Jane was all wrong for him, she knew he’d see it, too, soon enough. Why he hadn’t already was a mystery. She was merely scooting up the time line on that by making sure all their dates sucked. Going to his house tonight was an opportunity for her to gauge the prospect of that being true.

  And when she’d approached him with the idea of stopping by on Sunday, he hadn’t said no. A storm of butterflies wreaked havoc in her belly at what that might mean.

  Stop it, she scolded herself. She couldn’t get her hopes up. Go in with low expectations and she’d have a better chance of surviving whatever happened emotionally. Tossing her curls over her shoulder, she met her sister’s eyes and said words that she meant for herself as much as anyone. “It’s just sex, Lacy. It’s fun. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  “There are some people I believe that may be true for. You are not one of them.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” It was true, but Lacy didn’t have to call her on it.

  “You’re going to get emotionally attached,” Lacy chided in a singsong voice.

  “No. Way. Yes, he’s good.” Great, actually. Greater than great. “But he is definitely not for me.” All lies. She was totally emotionally attached. Yet she couldn’t admit that to anyone without feeling stupid with a capital S. Because though Blake was more than pleasing in the physical department, he still lacked in other areas. He’d improved socially under her tutelage, and he made fewer chauvinistic comments since her first days working with him, but he was still basically an ass-hat. The fact that he was serving her multiple O’s while still using her to find a bride was proof of that. Totally awful.

  Someone just needed to explain that to her heart.

  Lacy narrowed her eyes at her. “Your expression says that you aren’t so sure about that.”

  Goddammit, why did Lacy have t
o be able to read her so well? That was Andy’s gig.

  Andy forced a smile. “I’m fine. Stop worrying about me. Mom.” As if she’d have ever discussed her sex life with their mother.

  Lacy ignored the crack. Or else she worked to emulate it further. “How will you get home? The train doesn’t go all the way out to Rich-ville.”

  “I’ll call a cab. Or have Blake take me home.” Or not come home at all.

  Immediately she scratched that thought from her mind.

  But then Lacy said, “Or you’ll stay over.”

  “I won’t stay over. That goes against the rules.”

  Lacy rolled her eyes at the word rules. “But you might be home late?”

  She was digging, and Andy knew it. Truth was, Andy wanted to be home late. Banging, as Lacy so eloquently put it, on new territory would be a definite violation of rules. It threatened to upset their carefully balanced routine. Especially when the new territory was Blake’s home. It was intimate. If they crossed that line, how could Blake deny what was happening between them?

  On the other hand, Andy didn’t want to force it. It was one thing to ruin his dates, but whatever happened between her and Blake she wanted to happen organically. She had to be sure it was real. She had to be sure he knew it was real.

  But what if it wasn’t as real for him as it was for her?

  Maybe Lacy was right to be worried. Going to Blake’s home on a Sunday night under the pretense of work had the potential of backfiring big time. She could very well get hurt. Problem was, her heart was already involved. It was too late to worry about maybe getting hurt.

  She glanced sideways at Lacy, who was still waiting for her answer. Andy didn’t give one. Instead, having spotted the ugly pea-green vehicle pulling up below, she said, “Darrin’s here.”

  “Lucky you. Saved by the van.”

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, Andy stood on the steps waiting for Blake to answer his bell. When the door opened, she was met by his housekeeper.