by M. S. Parker
“I almost forgot!” She dug through her purse for several seconds before emerging with a small, rectangular card.
She held it out to me. “A guy came by the restaurant and gave me his number for you. He said he found your necklace.”
“And you’re just telling me this now?!” I snatched the card from her, blinking back the tears that suddenly burned my eyes. “He found my grandmother’s necklace.”
“Sorry.” She grinned at me and gave me a lascivious wink. Molly made no secret of the fact she was bisexual. In so many ways, Molly was my mirror opposite. “He was hot too. I was tempted to ask if I could come by and get the necklace for you.”
I gave her an absent smile as I stared at the card. Dominic Snow. There wasn’t anything else on the card to explain who Dominic Snow was, but I didn’t care. He had my grandmother’s necklace. I’d given up ever seeing it again. It took all of my self-control not to ignore Molly and call the number right now.
At least one thing didn’t totally suck right now.
Either Molly sensed my impatience or she was ready to go because she didn’t linger over good-byes like she usually did. Instead, she just got up and gave me a hug before she headed out.
I decided to stay a bit longer so I could make my call without the noise of the city’s chaos. I still needed to cover a few more places before I went home and I didn’t want to wait that long to call.
“Hello?” The man’s voice was pleasant and vaguely familiar. That didn’t mean anything though. In the six months I’d been waiting tables, I’d talked to thousands of men. He could’ve been any of them.
“Hi, this is Aleena Davison.” I paused, then realized that he might not know my name. “You have my necklace.”
“Ah, yes, Aleena.” He sounded…what was it? I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Amused? Pleased?
Frowning, I concentrated on his words instead of that odd tone. And the sexiness of it.
“I was hoping you’d call,” he continued. “This piece of jewelry appears to be fairly old and I assumed it was something quite special.”
“It is,” I said. Suddenly, I was nervous, wondering if I should have stayed silent. Now that he knew it was important, he might think that he could get some money out of me.
“Unfortunately, I’m out of town on a business trip at the moment,” he said. “But I’ll be back in the morning. Can you meet me?”
“Um, sure.” I waited for it, the price-tag.
“Do you know Bouley?”
I silently swore. Bouley was a hot-spot for the high-spending execs—the kind of money I did not have. They’ve got five-course lunches, well-priced, I guess, if you can afford to spend money on a five-course lunch in a five-star restaurant.
I can’t even afford a soda there.
“Yes, I know it.” I was also pretty sure I didn’t own anything I could wear to it. I couldn’t tell if he’d just invited me to have a drink, but I certainly wasn’t about to show up looking like I worked there.
“Would you be able to meet me there tomorrow at noon?”
What could I say to that? I wanted—no, I needed—my grandmother’s necklace back. So I’d look like a loser and just order ice water.
“Sure.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
And just like that I was going to meet a complete stranger at a fancy restaurant.
Chapter Three
Aleena
Bouley was just as nice inside as it was out. I smoothed down the sweater-dress I’d borrowed from Emma.
I say borrow although technically it was more like I swiped it out of her closet after she left work. I’d already planned to take care of her laundry tonight to make up for not getting the rent money to her. I’d just add the dress to it.
Considering the difference in our body types, the dress actually fit pretty well. I figured my curves stretched it enough to compensate for the height difference. The color had been the deciding factor. It was a rich, deep red, the kind that looked good on true blonds like Emma or on those with a darker complexion like me.
“Are you meeting someone?” The hostess smiled at me as I came inside.
“Dominic Snow.” I gave her the name he’d said on the phone.
“Right this way.”
I followed her, trying not to fidget with the dress or my hair. All those thoughts fled when I saw who was sitting at the table.
My mouth went dry.
My hands went clammy.
Shit.
The hot stranger from the other day, the one who’d stopped me from falling and had tried to save my job, he was Dominic Snow. He was the guy who had my necklace. And judging by the lack of surprise on his face, he’d known who I was.
“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” I said as he stood and pulled out my chair.
“I’m not.” He flashed me that same charming smile. “I found the necklace on the floor near the plates when I went back to my table to get my jacket. I wasn’t positive it belonged to you, but I suspected as much.”
Is he flirting with me? I didn’t know. I’d never been as good at reading these signals as some girls.
“I know I asked you to meet me here so I could give you the necklace, but my business meeting just canceled on me. Would you care to join me? My treat, of course.” He settled back down in his seat and reached for his water glass. “I do hate to eat alone.”
Get the necklace. Get out. Common sense told me that was the smart thing to do.
And my stomach chose that moment to growl.
Hunger won out over common sense. I hadn’t had a decent meal in two days—my groceries were all but gone and it wasn’t like I had money coming in tomorrow, right?
“I’d like that, thank you.”
He smiled at me and gestured a server over. “Would you like some wine?”
“No, thanks.” I smiled as I answered.
He nodded and ordered a glass for himself.
I asked for water. We chatted about the food while we went over the menu. We had barely closed the menus before the server arrived to take our orders.
Once that was done, he leaned back in his chair and those extraordinary blue eyes focused on me.
“So, Miss Aleena Davison...it is Miss, right?” His smile flashed, hot and bright, and his eyes glinted at me.
“Yes.” I held up my left hand and wiggled my fingers. Then, surprising myself with my boldness, I raised an eyebrow and gave his hand a pointed look.
“Yes,” he said as he held up his hand. “I’m a Miss too.”
I laughed, and he immediately joined in, a low rumbling sound that made heat coil in my stomach.
As that tug of heat spread, I reached for my water. I’d hoped the reaction I’d felt the other day had been a fluke.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” He took a sip of his wine. “No accent.”
I shook my head. “I’m from Iowa. And you?”
“Me?” There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, gone so fast I barely had a chance to recognize it.
“You don’t have an accent either,” I pointed out.
“True. But I’m New York, born and raised.” He lifted a brow, a faint smile curling his lips. “In the business world, especially when dealing internationally, it’s...better to have a more general American accent.”
As we talked, I began to relax. It was nice, sitting in a good restaurant, eating the kind of food I couldn’t afford on my own. He was attractive—whoa he was extremely attractive and that laugh. Every time it rolled through the room, I felt a tug deep inside me.
Not that he was flirting, exactly.
Occasionally, his eyes would linger on mine, but there was nothing less than courtesy in the way he acted and after the way my past few days had gone, it was something I desperately needed.
Since this was the first—and probably the last—time I’d had the chance to sit down in a high dollar restaurant with an urbane guy like Dominic, I planned to enjoy it.
Enjoy wasn’t the right word, though.
He wasn’t just sexy, and there was more to him than that amazing smile. He made me laugh. He had an insightful way of looking at things and a kind way of treating others. He gave the server who brought our food the same courtesy he’d shown me—and that meant something.
Since it was the same job I had, it mattered to me when a guy didn’t treat others in that line of work as invisible.
Before I knew it, our plates were being cleared and the server was asking about dessert. Regret was something I was familiar with, but I can’t ever recall feeling it quite as strongly as I did then.
“Thank you, no,” Dominic said after I’d declined.
As the server walked away, Dominic looked at me. He reached into his coat pocket. “I should probably give you this.”
The chain of my grandmother’s necklace glinted in the subtle lighting overhead. “Wouldn’t want to forget the reason you came.”
My heart leaped at the sight of it and then it practically stopped when our fingers brushed. As a gasp lodged in my throat, I looked up at him. He was watching me, his gaze intent on mine.
“Thank you,” I said, my throat almost painfully dry. As he continued to stare at me, something unfamiliar settled inside me. I curled the chain in my palm and tucked both hands in my lap. “Thank you so much. My grandmother gave it to me before she passed.”
“You were close?” he murmured. “It hurts to lose somebody you love. I’m sorry.”
“Yes.” I looked away. There really wasn’t anything else to say, was there?
“We should go,” he said a moment later. “I hope I’m not making you late for work or anything. Wouldn’t want to give your boss another reason to bother you.” His mouth tightened.
“Ah…not likely.” I placed my napkin on the table, taking care not to look at him. “I don’t currently have a boss.”
It’s amazing how much tension can flood a silence. It startled me enough that I looked over at him. His jaw was tight, almost rigid with anger, but the moment our eyes met, the expression was gone.
“I see.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Are you job hunting then?”
“Yes.” I gave him my best, everything’s fine smile. I had a lot of practice with it. I could bluster with the best of them. I’d been doing it most of my life.
He looked thoughtful for a moment and then he leaned forward. “What sort of jobs have you done?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Humor me.” He gave me that quick smile again, those grooves beside his mouth deepening. That smile could probably be classified as a deadly weapon.
Uncertain where he was going with this, I shrugged. “I’ve been serving since I was sixteen. It’s what I’m best at. But I took office administration in college and was one of the assistant managers at my dad’s restaurant from the time I was eighteen up until I decided to move here. I can do office work—Microsoft Word, Excel, that sort of thing. I helped out with payroll until I finally convinced Dad he’d be better off switching to a service.”
“So you’re organized.”
“Guilty.” I gave him a look of mock sincerity.
He didn’t smile. Instead, he went back to tapping one finger on the table. Just one—his index finger. After a moment, he stopped and then leaned back into his seat. “I know of a company that’s having open interviews tomorrow for several different jobs. I can’t guarantee anything, but I can’t see them not being able to find a place for you.”
What? I had to struggle not to gape at him.
“Here.” He took out a business card and a pen, and scribbled something on the back. “Here’s the address. The interviews start at eight.”
I took the card and lifted it up, staring at it dumbly.
He rose and I shifted my gaze to look up at him.
He bent over it, gently pressing his lips against the back of my hand. “I hope to see you again.”
I stared as he walked away, my heart racing and my mind half-dulled by the shock.
I could still feel the place on my hand where his mouth had been.
I hoped he’d see me again too.
Chapter Four
Dominic
Don’t look back, I told myself.
She was…intriguing.
She was sexy as hell, but I knew plenty of attractive women. I’d noticed her even before that disaster in the restaurant. Who wouldn’t notice her? Her hair, her eyes—that ass?
But I knew any number of beautiful women.
There was still a bruise on her cheek from where she’d inadvertently been hit. It infuriated me to see a bruise on a woman, but it wasn’t like it had been done out of cruelty. Carelessness yes, but cruelty, no.
It was the bruises in her eyes that were really twisting me up.
That dick of a manager.
As I climbed into my car, I gave my driver an absent greeting, but my mind wasn’t on him or even on the rest of the days’ business. But her.
I’d tried to diffuse the situation between her and the dick, but it hadn’t worked.
It hadn’t been her fault, but you couldn’t tell it by the way that asshole had acted.
I’d left there feeling like a hero. Now I felt like a heel. It wasn’t a feeling I cared for.
“Will you require your usual pick-up, Mr. Snow?”
The driver’s question cut through my thoughts and I looked around, realizing we were already at my office.
“Six o’clock,” I said. “I’m thinking dinner and then heading out to a club.”
“Very good, sir.”
Sighing, I said, “Dominic, Mike.”
“Yes, sir.” A faint smile flashed across his face.
I shook my head as he stopped at the curb and opened the door before he could get out to do it himself. He’d been my driver for four years and he still wouldn’t call me anything but Mr. Snow or sir.
For a moment, I stood there, staring up at the jet-black spire that housed Trouver L’Amour.
What an irony.
Or maybe not. I believed in love—for others. I just didn’t see it in the cards for myself. All the more reason not to think about a certain gorgeous, green-eyed sweetheart who was clearly cut out for forevers.
It was ironic, I thought, standing there in front of the office of Trouver L’Amour. It was marketed—and indeed built—for the rich, jet-setting crowd, where we promised to help you find the ideal match for you.
I helped people find a forever of their own, but it was something that just wasn’t in the cards for me.
Love just wasn’t going to happen.
It was an emotion that had been all but destroyed…years ago.
Before the darkness of those memories could swim through and overtake me, I started inside.
The interior decorator who handled my other businesses was scheduled to come in tomorrow and we were going to be officially opening the first week in February. The open house on Valentine’s Day would mark my official foray into the business of match making.
Winding through the workers who were busily getting everything into place, I found my office and settled in. My own work area was still relatively bare, just the essentials for now. The other furnishings would be brought in by Annette Shale, one of New York City’s top designers. I didn’t mind working like this. The excess wasn’t for me, anyway. It was for the clients. Apparently, whether I preferred Van Gogh over some no-name artist meant I was better equipped to find them their ideal mate.
Not that I would be the one matching people up. It wasn’t all going to be done on a computer, either. We were promising a human touch. None of the clients needed to know that the detailed interview would be plugged into a computer, taking into account the myriad personality types. Those details would be combined with all the factors a real human being was needed for. It was the best of both worlds. The computer’s efficiency, the human’s empathy and intuition.
Tomorrow’s open house was also looking for matchmakers.
She was sweet and kind, but she exuded an innocence and naiveté that would have too many people flocking to her like sharks scenting blood in the water.
Oh, not all of my clients were like that, but too many of them were. No matter how she dressed, no matter what she did or said, she would stand out.
I’d contact those handling the hiring and put her down as a top placement, but she wasn’t to be put here.
Even as I made the decision, though, disappointment welled inside me.
Trouver L’Amour was just getting started and for the next many months, this was where I’d be spending most of my time and energy.
No matter where she was sent, it’d be one of the family businesses, but I probably wouldn’t see her again.
Don’t think about it, Snow.
It wasn’t like we were friends. Wasn’t like we had anything in common. Wasn’t like—
“Focus, Snow,” I muttered. Shaking my head, I powered up my computer and went to the interview list my business manager had sent me. Robson Findlay had already noted a few names. I added Aleena’s name and sent the email to him, adding in a quick note about her and the background she’d given me.
I never made promises about employment, but I never turned anyone away for an interview either. If she had the qualifications and there was an opening that would fit her, Rob would find her a job.
That task done, I settled down to deal with business, going over the plan I’d developed with a friend—also in the matchmaking industry.
But I wasn’t able to focus.
I found myself thinking about the lush curve of her mouth.
Her ass.
The sweet, open innocence of her smile.
“Innocence,” I said, shoving back from the desk after I found myself distracted by her for the second time in an hour. Restless, edgy energy burned in me. It was the sort of tension I was too familiar with and under normal circumstances, I could have caged it and just waited until evening.
