It’s not the same for her.
But she sounds more serious than I’ve heard her speak before. More professional. Like she’s trying to be a pro.
“I went to a beer festival with a woman on the laser tag team. She was easygoing, which I like. But she kept taking selfies the whole time, which I didn’t like.”
“I don’t think I’d like that, either.”
“A few months ago, I played mini golf with a venture capitalist I met at a happy-hour shindig. She spent most of the time talking about herself. Not a fan of that.”
“Nor am I.”
“And then I went to the movies with another woman, and she slept through half the flick.”
Evie laughs. “She must have been quite tired.”
“In her defense, she did a movie recap with me after the closing credits, and that was weirdly fun to hear her review a movie she’d half seen.”
“Duly noted—weird fun can be good.”
That’s all I say about other dates. What I want is to know Evie even better. Since the more I learn, the more I realize we’re actually a lot alike.
She tells me about the women she has in mind for me, rattling each one off on a finger. An athletic woman who runs her own advertising agency and has season tickets to the Yankees, a photographer who’s also a foodie and loves to sample the goods at food trucks, and a pretty chemist who is a poker player.
The women all sound great. I bet they’re fantastic ladies.
But I don’t want to date them.
What I want to do is convince Evie to date me. That’s my new goal, so I toss her question back at her. “Tell me about your last dates.”
Chapter Twelve
Evie
“I can’t even remember when my last date was,” I tell him.
He narrows his eyes. “Yes, you can.”
“It was months ago. I really can’t remember.”
“For real?”
I cross my heart. “I’ve been so consumed with work, I truly haven’t had time.”
The look he gives me is skeptical. “With all the men in your Rolodex, you’ve never been tempted to date one?”
Dylan stretches his arm behind us on the bench. I half wish I was seventeen again, and this was the pre-make-out-during-the-movies move. But he’s simply stretching, and I’m simply wishing for a more that can’t happen.
I shake my head. “No, it’s not my place to dip into the Rolodex.”
He bangs his palm against the slats of the bench. “And you never wanted to?”
Not till now. Not at all.
“Nope,” I say, punctuating the P to emphasize how un-tempted I am.
He nods several times, as if he’s letting the thought soak in. Then he cocks his head to the side, his eyes challenging me. “Does that mean the men in your Rolodex are duds?”
“No! Of course not,” I say, indignant. “They’re fantastic, intelligent, kind, handsome—”
I stop, realizing I walked right into that.
He laughs. “Then, how have you never been tempted?”
“You set me up,” I say, smacking his thigh.
“Sure, but I want your response.” He shifts closer to me. “Remember, I don’t take no for an answer. Tell me the truth.”
I draw a breath. “I’ve never been tempted because I can’t let myself be tempted. It would compromise my integrity. I need to make sure my clients trust me completely.”
“But they do, Evie.”
Something about the way he says my name sends a charge through me. A hot spark settles between my legs, like a quiet pulse.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his fingers inching closer to my shoulder, almost as if he’s tempted to touch me. I want him to. So badly. I want those fingers to slide over my shoulders. To brush along the curve of my neck. To thread through my hair.
What am I doing?
Dylan is my client’s brother.
Dylan is now my client.
I’m not interested in a match for myself. I’m not looking for love. I’m focused on work, and Dylan is my work.
The trouble is, my work turns me on more than I expected, and that’s for one elemental reason—I like him.
I like him so very much.
That’s why I jerk this conversation back to the purpose of these get-togethers—prepping him for his princess charming, whoever she may be.
I brush one palm against the other. “The big question is—are you ready for me to set you up on your first date? Or do you think the fall in yoga has set you back?” I wink.
“You think falling in yoga means I’m not ready to date?”
I laugh. Nervously. “Well, not entirely. But it did remind me what we talked about before we had tea. That we all have a bit of dork in us. So, I didn’t know if you wanted to walk through all the potential topics, moments, pitfalls, and so on.”
“Like a pre-date prep? Or maybe even a practice session?”
“Sure, we can practice now if you’d like,” I offer.
He doesn't answer right away. When he does, he takes his time, like he’s making an offer. “Or maybe we can practice in a true date simulation.”
Tingles race over my shoulders. “Like a practice date?”
His eyes twinkle like stars. “I need a practice date badly. Can I take you on one? It would be so helpful to review everything. Make sure I’m ready.”
When he puts it like that… “Yes, of course.”
I want him to put his best foot forward. I didn’t say yes because I want to date him. I wouldn’t do that, even though when he walks away, all I can think is how on earth did I wind up with a pitter-pattering heart for a man I’m handing off to another woman?
* * * *
“So?”
Olivia blows on the sky blue polish on her fingernails. She’s perched across from me at the salon, an expectant look on her face.
“A needle pulling thread?” I counter.
“So…how’s it going with my brother?” she asks as the nail technician spreads the bristles in the brush against my big toe.
“It’s great!” I say in my best chipper, cheery, Matchy-McMatcherson voice. We’ve been chatting about her wedding plans for most of the mani-pedi, and I’d been meaning to give myself a pat on the back for successfully steering the conversation away from thoughts of how much I want to get naked with her brother.
But I don’t only want to roll in the hay with him.
If that was all I wanted, I’d simply flash his image in the movie screen of my mind and take him for a few solo trips at night to get him out of my system.
It’s more than that. I haven’t wanted to date anyone in a long, long time. Now, I want to date him. I want him to choose me. To tell me I’m the one he wants to share jokes with, try new things with, visit hole-in-the-wall Mexican joints with.
But there’s another reason why dating Dylan would be risky. I’m looking at that reason. Olivia’s a client who’s become a friend. She came to me with a request—to help her brother. Not to bed her brother. I can’t try to claim him for myself when my job is to unearth the best woman for him.
“And when will his first big date be?”
“I’m thinking one more week,” I say, my newly polished peach fingernails curling over the arms of the chair, gripping it.
One more week till another woman can have a chance at this fun, clever, kind, sometimes pushy, occasionally pig-headed but always big-hearted man.
“The clock is ticking until his first big date,” Olivia says, moving her fingers back and forth like a pendulum, reminding me that time is winding down. And with that knowledge in mind, that this is the last time I’ll see Dylan one-on-one, the last time I’ll have his presence all to myself, I decide to make the most of my practice date.
Later that night, I shower, curl the ends of my hair, spritz on my favorite scent, and slip into a pretty, pale blue shift dress that hits just above my knees.
I slide on a pair of silvery sandals that lift me two inches highe
r. It doesn’t escape my attention that they make my legs look strong, and that Dylan likes my legs.
I fasten my necklace with a tiny matchbox pendant, Patrick’s gift to me when I started my business.
And when I leave to head to the sushi restaurant he suggested, I repeat my mantra over and over.
It’s not a real date, it’s not a real date, it’s not a real date.
But when I reach the restaurant in the lobby of the Luxe, and he’s waiting for me at the bar, a dark blue button-down rolled up, showing off his forearms, his smile as adorable as ever and those eyes glinting from behind his glasses, I fear I might need a new mantra.
Because this feels exactly like a date.
Chapter Thirteen
Dylan
She looks like a naughty princess.
Wait.
She only looks naughty because I’m thinking of her naked.
So, that’s on me.
I rise, walk over to her, and press a kiss to her cheek. A faint whoosh of breath seems to rush from her lips, and that sound knocks a few filters loose in my brain. Before I know it, I blurt out, “You look like a dirty angel.”
Then I wrench back, instantly regretting the words.
“What did you say?” she asks, a smile playing on her lips.
“You look like an angel,” I offer, selling it with the kind of confidence I rely on when pitching venture capitalists.
It seems to work, since Evie smiles and runs her fingers briefly over my collar. “You look quite handsome,” she says, then pats my chest. “Perfect first-date wear.”
“It was a toss-up between this and overalls. Glad you like the one I picked.”
“Overalls then for date two,” she says with a wink.
The hostess appears at our side and asks if we’re ready to be seated.
“Absolutely,” I tell her, and we follow the woman in the black dress to a quiet booth near the back of the restaurant. Three votive candles in short tin cups form a circle, their lights flickering in the darkened corner.
Evie sits first, and when I take my seat, the hostess hands us menus. As I peruse mine, a strange spate of nerves crawls up my throat. But I dismiss them. There are nerves and there are decisions. I’ve made mine, and I know what I want.
Her.
Soon, the server comes to our table and introduces himself as Oliver. We order sake, edamame, and I add in a seaweed salad. Evie arches a brow and mouths seaweed? She points to her teeth and slides her fingers along them.
“Cancel the seaweed salad, please,” I tell the stocky man. “What would you recommend instead for an appetizer, Oliver?”
“Do you like scallops? We have a seared scallop appetizer that melts in your mouth.”
I look to Evie, letting her answer.
“Love them,” she says.
“Me, too. We’ll have the seared scallops instead.”
“And what would you like from the sushi menu?”
Evie chooses a rainbow roll and unagi, and I opt for yellowtail and mackerel.
“Excellent choices,” the waiter says with a nod. “And if there’s anything else I can get for you, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“We definitely will. Thanks, Oliver.”
The waiter leaves, and Evie is grinning at me.
“What?” I bare my teeth. “Do I already have seaweed stuck in my teeth, and I didn’t even order it?”
She shakes her head, her smile never vacating her pretty face. “They say on a first date, you can tell more about a man from how he treats the waiter than anything else.”
“And what did you learn?”
“You were quite nice to him.”
“Why would anyone not be nice, though? I don’t get it. I don’t get why someone would treat a waiter, a server, a cabbie, a hotel clerk, a salesperson—anyone—like a douche.”
“I don’t know, either, but it happens.”
“I don’t need to put someone down to feel good about myself.”
She rests her chin in her hand, studying my face. “You’re an interesting man, Dylan.”
“Am I?” I peer at her over the top of my glasses.
“You are. So tell me, what do you do for a living?” She rolls her hands, saying go with it.
“Oh, is this the role-play?”
She nods. “Practice date banter.”
I chuckle, mostly to myself, since it seems too silly to put the car in reverse. But I have to remind myself that Evie is on the clock and doing her job. “I’m an entrepreneur.”
Her blue eyes sparkle. “How interesting. Do you love it?”
“Absolutely. I’ve wanted to start my own company since I was a kid, and I love making things, growing a business, building it up, and selling it for gobs of money. What about you?”
“I’m a matchmaker, and yes, I always wanted to do this.”
“How so?”
“When I was a little girl, I loved setting up my dolls.”
I crack up, enjoying the image of her playing matchmaker to dolls. “Seriously?”
“I had a purple bucket of Ken and Barbie dolls as well as a stuffed panda, and the panda served as the great arbiter of romance amongst the dolls, deciding which couple would be allowed to spend a night in the Barbie house.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “That might be one of the best stories ever. Since basically, you are now the stuffed panda.”
She laughs, leaning forward, a few strands of her blond hair framing her face. “I was. I also loved to match clothes and colors, and I think over time, all the skills and interests coalesced.”
The waiter returns with the drinks and appetizers, and we both thank him, then dive into the scallops.
As I lift the chopsticks, I ask, “And do you love what you do?”
She chews then answers. “I do. It’s honestly one of the most fulfilling things I can imagine doing. I’m very fortunate in that I’ve made several quite successful matches, and I have some incredibly satisfied clients. They’re happy, they’re in love, they want to be together for the rest of their lives. I can’t ask for anything more.”
“Makes you feel lucky, right? Blessed even?” I ask as I pop an edamame into my mouth. “To do what you love, to be successful at it, to know it matters to others.”
“Yes, that’s exactly how I feel.”
She lifts her sake cup and drinks, and I watch her. From the hair to the dress to the lip gloss, Evie is so well appointed, put together. She’s polished, and I bet she’s been called pretty her whole life because the whole package comes together. But to me, she’s sexy and sensual. Because I’m turned on by her mind, by her mouth, by her outlook. The combination is what makes a woman sexy.
She blinks, as if she’s coming to after slipping into another plane of reality. “I just realized I’m not doing a very good job helping you practice for a date.”
“Why do you say that?”
“We’re sitting here talking about me, not prepping you.”
“But I’m having fun.”
“Are you?”
I hold up my palm, taking an oath on an imaginary Bible in court. “I swear.”
A faint smile crosses her lips. “You seem very comfortable. More so than the first time we met, and definitely more than at yoga.”
I pretend to blow on my fingernails. “Guess you made a swan of this ugly duckling.”
She scoffs. “You’re not ugly. You’re not a duckling, and there was no Pygmalion transformation here. Just a few little bits of encouragement.”
“Not ugly?” I sketch air quotes. “That’s my biggest goal in life. To be not ugly.”
She tosses her napkin at me. “Oh, stop it. You know you’re handsome.”
And I like that compliment a helluva lot. “Am I?”
“Incredibly handsome.”
Pride surges through me, alongside a fresh dose of confidence.
Until she says the next thing.
She pats my hand. “You’re going to make some woman quite happy.
”
But not her.
My heart smashes to the floor.
Chapter Fourteen
Evie
A piece of eel sits atop the rice between the ends of the two orange chopsticks. “This sushi is amazing.”
“Yeah, it’s great.” Dylan smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
His response only makes me amp up my sales pitch. “I love unagi.” I bring the slice to my mouth and devour it, rolling my eyes in pleasure. “So good,” I declare when I finish.
“Yeah, I knew you liked sushi.” His tone is flat.
The mood has shifted. The easy, breezy atmosphere has been zipped up and sealed away in a plastic bag. In its place, Dylan is a perfectly suitable date—polite and considerate. But that’s all.
I keep trying. Broadening my smile. Rocketing up the conversation. Adding even more pom-poms. “I’m so glad we came here. It’s such a great idea to try new restaurants.”
“Yeah.”
I’m a used car salesman. I can’t let go. “Where else do you think you’d want to go on a date?”
His brow knits. “Excuse me?”
I take a drink of my sake and set down the china cup. “Well, I’m thinking about the series Ryder did—ten dates to falling in love. Do you know that?”
“I’m aware of his work.”
“I want to set you up for a successful experience. Do you want to geocache, go to the arcade, see a basketball game?” I ask, but I don’t wait for his answer. I can’t blurt out that I have feelings for him and ruin our business relationship, so I need to salvage this evening. All I can think is to layer on a good mood, a better mood, the best mood. “Oh, that’s it, I bet. Probably a basketball game. Maybe with the woman who has the season tickets? I bet she’d love that.” I fish around in my purse for a small notebook. “I’m just going to jot this down.”
“Evie.” His voice is heavy. It says stop.
But if I stop I’ll have to face the fact that I have feelings for him.
“It’s a good idea, though. Don’t you think?” Brightness defines my face right now. So much brightness, it will overwhelm all the weirdness.
Stud Finder (1001 Dark Nights) Page 7
