Parker’s family had seemed cool and distant, but she’d attributed a lot of that to a general upper-class, old-money snootiness.
And then there’d been the personal signs. Under no circumstances, however, was she going to get into that with Matthew Whittaker.
He appeared satisfied with her answer, however. “But you sold the engagement ring to start Ideal Match.”
“Yes, months later. Parker didn’t bother asking for the ring back—” it was the one thing she could give Parker credit for, she admitted “—and frankly, I no longer knew where he was. I knew if I used the ring to pay off my debts, I’d never have a chance to get ahead.”
She didn’t bother mentioning the wedding gifts she’d had to return…the painful notes to guests…the parting with the wedding dress she couldn’t bear to keep in her closet.
It had all been emotionally devastating, particularly since she’d always been a die-hard romantic. Growing up, her favorite game had been Here Comes the Bride. Her younger sister, Meghan, had played her maid of honor, and her younger brother, Zach, had officiated, with one or another stuffed animal standing in for the groom.
Matt’s expression was unreadable. “I have no idea where Parker is. Last I heard, traveling the world for business and pleasure.” He paused. “Parker has a taste for chasing risky business ventures. I think he’s hoping to return home in a blaze of glory.”
That did sound like Parker, she admitted. When she’d met him at a late-night party, she’d reacted to his urbane charm and easy promises like a starry- eyed ingenue soaking up praise at her first audition.
What’s more, she wasn’t completely surprised that Matt and Parker didn’t keep up. She knew Parker had asked Matt to be a groomsman more to strengthen a potentially important business relationship than anything else.
Aloud, she said, “In any case, I’m not single because I’m cynical or bitter. Otherwise, I’d never have stayed a matchmaker.”
“What, then? Married to your job?”
She opened her mouth, then caught the teasing glimmer in his eyes.
“No, I’m simply not looking for anyone right now.”
“And when you are?”
Why was he so curious? And why were they talking about this? “Then I’ll know him when I see him.”
She didn’t add she was a fraud, and her Maybe Mr. Right would eventually discover that himself.
Until then she had a big test ahead of her, and that was finding Matt his Ms. Perfect. The sooner, the better.
Though she still had over two months before the Sentinel named its Most Eligible Bachelor again, her dealings with Matthew Whittaker were growing ever more complicated.
Fortunately, she knew just where to look for the perfect woman.
Lauren stared first at her computer screen, then out her office window, replaying the conversation of two days ago for the umpteenth time.
The truth was a bit more complicated than what she’d laid out for Matt. Sure, she had to socialize for work—scoping out available singles took a lot of time—but she’d always considered it a professional obligation.
She’d hit the Big 3-0 a couple of months ago, and she hadn’t been in a steady relationship since getting stood up at the altar. Not only wasn’t she looking for Mr. Right at the moment, she hadn’t been looking for him in the past five years, either.
She’d ended up a statistic. And not one of those happy statistics, either. Not the kind that said I’m a happy, well-adjusted woman of the twenty-first century who is in control of her life. Instead, she’d already settled into a life of solitude with only Felix the feline for company.
After Parker, she’d gone through various stages of breakup grief: shock and numbness, obsessive thinking and crying, and depression and despair. She’d resumed her life, but not as the same person. She was more aware and a lot more cautious these days.
The same caution was sounding a warning now. She’d caught herself thinking about Matt Whittaker not as a client, but as a man.
She sat back in her office chair. She’d tried to keep her professional demeanor intact the other night, but he’d confounded her, knocking her off balance.
Her eyes strayed back to her computer screen. She’d spent the better part of an hour scouring her database trying to come up with a list of potential dates for Matt.
Because she had to fight her attraction to him.
She’d learned some lessons from her experience with Parker, and the most important was that she was a failure in the bedroom as well as out.
Just then Candace breezed into her office, holding an arrangement of flowers. “These arrived. I’m dying to know who from!”
“For me?”
“Who else?” her receptionist said cheerily. “If they were for me, I’d already be pretending to have a headache and heading home early.”
Lauren frowned. “But I haven’t had a date recently.”
“Tell me something I didn’t already know.” Candace set the flowers down at the corner of the desk. “Aren’t they lovely?”
Lauren focused on the large bouquet of pink roses and lilies. “And expensive.”
Candace folded her arms. “Maybe one of your clients got smart and realized the real catch is the matchmaker herself.”
“Please.” She and Candace had been down this road more times than she could count.
Candace plucked out the little white envelope tucked among the flowers and handed it to her. “Here. The world waits with bated breath.”
Feigning disinterest, she sliced open the envelope and scanned the contents of the note inside.
Apologies for the cell phone lapse. Matt.
The words were scrawled in a masculine hand. As far as romance went, it was decidedly lacking.
Then she gave herself a mental shake. Romance and Matt Whittaker did not belong in the same sentence—at least where she was concerned.
“Well?” Candace asked.
“They’re from Matt Whittaker.”
“I knew it! Now there’s a guy who’s welcome to whisk me to Paris any day.”
Her heart skipped a beat despite every rational thought to the contrary.
“You’re jumping to conclusions.” She got up and came around her desk to carry the flowers over to the side cabinet, where she could remove the clear plastic that surrounded them and add some more water. “He’s just apologizing for being rude the other night.”
“Oh.” Some of the wind went out of Candace’s sails as she followed her over to the side cabinet. “Still, sending flowers was a nice move, and, c’mon, the guy is pure beefcake underneath those conservative suits and power ties.”