9781631050275TheirPerfectMatchMarshNC (3 page)

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Alaric growled. “I’ve already cursed my own foolishness enough.”

“I didn’t say you were foolish to sign up. I didn’t even say I disapproved. I only pointed out that I was surprised. Not that I’m surprised you’d have trouble finding a relationship. After all, what normal woman would stand for taking second place to your Italian leather briefcase?”

“Well, not half as surprised as my business associates would be if I went public with this thing. Zane, that woman drained my savings account! The credit card bills are still coming in! And that’s not even counting what she tried to do to my mutual funds! If my accountant hadn’t called me in time—”

“Alaric, I know. We went over all this at your office, remember? And I used the gold card, just like you told me. If there’s any unauthorized movement on that account, we’ll know about it.”

“Good. That’s good. That’s why I got in touch with you, Zane. Not just because you’re…‘family’ but because you’re discreet.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

Alaric sighed. “And I appreciate it, believe me. It’s good to have at least one person I can trust, in spite of what may have happened in the past.”

“I’m not the sort of man who lives in the past. I think you know that.”

“I do know. And again, I’m grateful, Zane.”

Zane snorted. Alaric didn’t often address him by his first name…or acknowledge his existence at all, for that matter.

 His silence had the desired effect. Alaric sounded even more panicky this time. “You
are
going to help me, aren’t you, Zane? I mean, I’m really counting on you here.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he announced when he was ready. “On two conditions.”

“I’m listening.”

“Glad to hear it. The first is that I call the shots, not you. You might think I ought to dress up and play Alaric Scott, but I have my own techniques and I’ll expect you to respect that.” Zane waited until Alaric slowly mumbled his agreement. “The second is that you live with my findings. If this is just some botched-up theory of yours, and I prove that Molly Grayson had nothing to do with it, you back off and look in some other direction.”

“Why would I disagree? Since you claim to know what you’re doing, I have no cause to doubt you.”

Zane heard the unspoken “but” in that sentence. “You’re not
allowed
to doubt me. That’s my point. Do we have a deal?”

Alaric was predictably slow to agree, but he came around all the same. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay, then.” Relieved to end the conversation, Zane pressed the disconnect button and stuffed the phone back in his leather jacket.

Still, it did seem as though his brother had stumbled onto something shady. The questionnaire he’d filled out could easily provide anyone at Lovelines with enough information to do real damage. For all he knew, Alaric wasn’t the only client who’d been ripped off.

In a way, he felt sorry for his brother. Not because of the stolen money—Zane was confident they’d get most of that back, and Alaric had plenty more. He also had the respectability—not to mention the family fortune—that would never be Zane’s. Still, Alaric was so busy getting ahead that he never took time to enjoy the simple things in life, like a cold beer at a waterfront bar, a good book—or a beautiful woman. Like Molly Grayson, for example.

Molly didn’t strike him as a con artist—if anything, he’d pegged her as the overly conscientious type, scrupulously honest even if it ended up hurting her—but on the other hand, who knew what people were secretly capable of?

As far as Zane was concerned, the subject of Molly Grayson, and her possible wholesale fleecing of Alaric’s bank accounts, was more than a financial issue, or even a matter of family honor. Now that he’d met the woman in question, for reasons he couldn’t exactly define, the interest he’d taken in the case was distinctly—even urgently—personal.

Chapter Two

 “I’ve been thinking,” Brenda announced late the next day. “Maybe we should use that new guy in an ad. You know, a sexy photograph in the newspaper, maybe even a TV spot. Those small stations don’t charge an arm and a leg.”

 “By new guy, I assume you’re referring to Mr. Bishop.” Molly stood at the copy machine, duplicating a sheaf of client questionnaires for her files. Zane’s wasn’t among them, since she’d run his off the day before, soon after he’d left the office. The originals had gone down the hall to Todd’s office so he could proceed with the necessary background and credit inquiries. All afternoon, Molly had resisted the urge to ask about the results, or to think about Zane Bishop at all. Now, thanks to Brenda, she was right back where she’d started.

“See? You knew right away who I was talking about. Admit it, Mol, I’m onto something here.”

“I knew who you were talking about because our only other new client was Miss Caldwell. I’m running off her forms right now.”

“Don’t play clueless with me. You’re always saying we need to build a bigger client base. If we used Zane as a model, the women would flock to us like seagulls to a fast food joint.”

“That’s not quite the image I want to cultivate for Lovelines,” Molly replied patiently. “And let’s hold off on a screen test until Todd’s checked Mr. Bishop’s references. He could be an escaped felon, for all we know.”

“Him? Lighten up, Mol. Besides, there’s only one way to
really
check him out, and that’s to go out with him yourself. All you have to do is tell him it’s a standard part of the interview process. What do you have to lose?”

“Nothing except my integrity.” Molly gathered her copies together and slammed down the copier lid. “Because it’s
not
a standard part of the interview process, and as far as I’m concerned it never should be. Dating services have enough of an image problem already.”

“That’s because no one has a sense of humor these days. You’re a perfect example, if you don’t mind my saying so. Romance is supposed to be fun, exciting. But the way you talk, we might as well be helping people complete their stamp collections. You and Todd have made the whole thing so mechanical. Mutual interests and shared values are great, but where’s the passion? How come there’s no room for the kind of sparks I saw flying between you and Zane Bishop when he walked out of here yesterday?”

“You’re wrong.” Molly felt a burst of heat in her cheeks. “Our methods are efficient and professional, and our clients appreciate that kind of stability. As for sparks with Mr. Bishop—well, you were obviously seeing something you wanted to see. All I sensed was simple professional respect on both sides.”

 “What I want to know is, what good’s a relationship if your mind—not to mention other, more sensitive parts of your anatomy—go numb from boredom before the honeymoon’s over? Admit it, Molly. Stable and conservative might work great in the stock market, but in the bedroom, you’ll be happier if you take a chance.”

“I’m sorry, Brenda, but I don’t agree at all. That kind of excitement feels great until you end up with a broken heart. I want to do better than that for our clients. Part of what they pay us for is protection—not just in a physical sense, but an emotional one, too. Most of them come here because they’ve been burned by just the kind of whirlwind affair you’re describing.”

“Okay, whatever.” Brenda shrugged. “All I know is that in my opinion, you need to enjoy your life more. Even Todd thinks so.”

“I’d prefer that you and Todd didn’t discuss my social arrangements. And for the record, I enjoy my life just fine, thanks.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Molly forced a smile and decided that changing the subject was her best option. She didn’t want Brenda to notice how much that last remark had stung. Todd had even less right than Brenda to comment on her personal life. “So what are you and Decker doing tonight? Anything special?”

As she expected, Brenda’s face lit up. “We’re going out for pizza, then to a movie.”

 “Not another gory horror flick, I hope. You complained about the last one for a week.”

“I admit that Decker and I don’t have the same taste in movies,” she admitted. “But if he’s happy, I’m happy. Besides, the scary parts give me an excuse to cuddle up to him.”

“Sounds like fun.” Tucking her copies under her arm, Molly took refuge in her office. She wasn’t sure which made her more uncomfortable—hearing her employees criticize her business sense or her personal life. And hearing about Brenda’s latest dream date with Joey Decker, the baby-faced delivery man for a nearby office supply store, was definitely more than she could deal with right now.

She’d never been able to figure out what Brenda saw in Decker, as he preferred to be called. In a sense, they were Lovelines’ first match, having met when Decker showed up to install their laser printers the very day they’d opened for business. Though Brenda seemed happy enough, their relationship certainly wasn’t the sort Molly would have chosen for herself. When—or maybe “if” would be more realistic—she found a man to date, she didn’t intend to endure inane monster movies or other activities she hated just to keep him happy. Hopefully, he’d be willing to share in things that interested her too.

But right now she had to focus on finding a mate for Janet Caldwell, not herself. With a smile, she remembered the genuine emotion in the woman’s voice as she rose to leave Molly’s office earlier that day. Her gratitude reminded Molly why she’d started Lovelines in the first place. Maybe she’d given up on finding her own perfect relationship, but there were plenty of other singles out there just waiting to benefit from her expertise. Too many people out there had resigned themselves to a loveless, even hopeless existence, when all they needed was someone with a little vision—and access to some twenty-first century technology—to turn their lives around.

Of course, when she thought about Miss Caldwell sitting across from her, Molly couldn’t help recalling the way Zane Bishop’s large, powerful body had filled the same seat a day earlier, the way his solemn gray eyes had met hers across the desk. Much as she hated to admit it, she couldn’t argue with Brenda on one point. Lovelines had pulled in some attractive male prospects, but none of them came close to Zane Bishop in terms of sheer sex appeal. If anything, he seemed a little
too
vibrant for most of the women in her databank.

Molly dropped the new application into her outbox and glanced at the clock, glad it was almost time to head home. She was trying to decide between takeout Chinese or Indian for supper when she heard someone tap on her office door.

“Hey, Molly.” She looked up to find Todd Matthews leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his mouth tilted in a grin. He’d rolled up his shirt sleeves to expose his firm muscles, which looked even bigger as his dark skin strained against the white fabric. She’d once found the strength of his arms both sexy and comforting. The memory embarrassed her now.

 “Oh—Todd.”

“You were expecting someone else?”

“No. In fact I’m glad you’re here.” Molly shook her head. For one crazy second, she’d actually expected—or was
hoped
a more accurate word?—to see Zane Bishop standing there. “I’m just finishing up Janet Caldwell’s application. You can start the credit and reference check first thing Monday. I don’t think she’ll present any problems.”

“Oh, yeah, I met her as she was leaving. She’s got potential, though you might suggest a shorter skirt. It’s a crying shame to cover up legs like hers.”

Molly rolled her eyes. Thank goodness it was nearly quitting time. “I’ll suggest no such thing. Lovelines’ goal is to match up single women, not get them to conform to your personal tastes.”

 She shoved an office supplies catalog into her briefcase with more force than was necessary. “Don’t worry, I didn’t drop by so I could ogle new prospects. I came to see if you wanted to go out for a drink.”

 “Oh?”

“Why not? It’s been a while since we’ve sat down and talked—you know, really talked. I’d hate to think that our working together has gotten in the way of our friendship. Let’s go down to The Grapevine and hang out for a while. What’s your rush to get home?”

She found it annoying—not to mention embarrassing—that Todd simply assumed she had no special plans for a Friday evening. Then again, after all these years, he probably knew her routine as well as he knew his own. Brenda apparently filled him in on the rest.

“Come on, this is on me, but we’ll talk about Lovelines and you can write the tab off on your next expense account. I really want to spend some time with you, Molly. It seems like years since we’ve had a meaningful conversation.”

“That’s assuming you define ‘meaningful’ the way I do. You certainly never used to.”

She felt a pang of satisfaction when his smile faltered for a moment. Then he quickly recovered. “That’s what’s so great about our friendship, don’t you think? People change and improve over time, and we’ve stuck it out long enough to reap the benefits.”

Molly sighed. Todd’s elusive but dangerous charm generally got him his own way in the end, and tonight would be no different. She didn’t have the energy to argue, and besides, he had a point. She was in no rush to face her silent, empty condo.

“All right, you win,” she conceded. “But I’ll hold you to that promise about the receipt. We have to keep the taxman happy.”

“If all else fails, you could always fix him up with the woman of his dreams.” Todd took the briefcase from her hand, stashed it behind her file cabinet, and held the office door open for her.

“Speaking of growing better with age, I think you’ve changed too,” he said as they crossed the street together. “There’s something about you now, something soft and warm and almost mysterious, that wasn’t there before.”

“If that didn’t sound so incredibly sexist, I’d think you were trying to butter me up.”

“I can see that one thing hasn’t changed. Compliments still make you uncomfortable.”

The Grapevine was packed with the usual after-work crowd, mostly thirtyish executives from the many offices that lined the surrounding streets. On a tiny corner dance floor, several yuppie couples turned in slow circles while throbbing music competed with the din of voices and the clatter of glassware. Molly was glad she’d chosen one of her own more expensive outfits that morning, a cinnamon jacket-and-skirt ensemble over a high-collared ivory blouse. At Lovelines, she’d felt overdressed, but here she looked like just another off-duty broker enjoying an evening of beer and flirtation to start the weekend off right.