9781631050275TheirPerfectMatchMarshNC (4 page)

They found a vacant table near the back of the room. Todd pulled out a chair for her, then returned briefly to the bar to order their drinks. He moved quickly, confidently through the press of tailored suits. Molly watched him greet the bartender by name and exchange a joke while he waited for his order. Her first impression had been right. Todd was at home in this scene, this crowd. The two of them were as opposite now as they’d been in college.

A few minutes later, Todd returned with a Scotch for himself and a white wine for her. “I asked for one that wasn’t too dry. Hope you like it.”

“Thanks for remembering.” She tasted it and smiled.

“Listen, I’m sorry about what I said about your new client, though I stand by my appraisal of her legs. The truth is, Mol, that I’m not looking at the moment.”

“I find that hard to believe, unless you’ve lost a contact lens.”

“Don’t be so literal. A guy can always
look
, or at least glance. So can a woman, for that matter.” Grinning, he sat back and studied her. “Brenda told me about the guy who came in the other day.”

Molly winced as a group of people burst into loud laughter at the table beside theirs. “Does Brenda ever talk about anything besides Zane Bishop and what she perceives as my lack of a social life?”

“She talks about Decker a lot, too. But for what it’s worth, he came through his preliminary credit checks smelling like a fresh red rose—a whole dozen of them, actually. The guy’s a lot better off financially than he looks.”

Molly pretended to scrutinize the reflections in the side of her wineglass. To her surprise, Todd reached across the table and covered the back of her hand with his palm.

“Come on, I’m only teasing you, Mol. It’s true that Brenda and I talked about you, but we were only saying that you work too hard. You need to get out and taste life more. Everyone needs to take a chance now and then.”

Her hand tensed, then relaxed in his firm grip. “You might be right,” she admitted.

 “I know I am. But the issue here isn’t what I think. It’s really about you. Whatever might have happened in the past, I hope you believe that I’ve always cared about your happiness.”

 “I do believe it. Thank you, Todd.”

“No need to thank me. I’d be content if you accepted just one piece of advice from someone who genuinely cares about you.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Take a chance, Molly.”

Perplexed, Molly took a nervous swallow of her wine. Could he really be saying what this sounded like? In all the years since their ill-fated college romance, Todd had never given the slightest indication that he regretted the breakup or felt that they could—or should—be anything except the close friends and business associates they’d become.

And, as much as she’d come to value his friendship, she’d never forgotten how deeply his rejection had stung.

“Todd—”

“For a long time, I avoided real relationships,” he went on. “I thought playing the field was the way to go. I even hurt you in the process. Now I see how wrong I was.”

“It’s all right. I got past it. Way past it. In fact—”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “What I’m trying to say, Mol, is that I’ve finally met someone—someone really special. There just aren’t enough words to describe the way I feel. Imagine! Me, all sentimental and tongue-tied over a woman. Could you ever have pictured it?”

Molly sat, speechless now, as he picked up his glass and tilted it against hers.

“Then again,” Todd chattered on, “maybe you suspected all along. You were always more tuned into my emotions than even I was. I’ve probably acted like a goofball without even realizing it.”

The wine she’d already drunk began to burn a slow, humiliating hole in her stomach. She realized that he’d become excited by what he was talking about—not by her at all. It was the same old routine they’d played out in college when he’d broken her heart into so many pieces she thought she’d never recover. And now she’d fallen for his empty flattery again.

“Is there…is there some reason why I need to know this?” she croaked.

“Sure there is. You’re my friend—my best friend, really—and I want you to know that I wish you the same happiness I’ve found. So if this guy from Lovelines turns you on, Mol, I think you should go for it—and for him.”

Oblivious to her mounting anger, Todd fished in his jacket until he produced his wallet. “Listen, I ought to get moving. Sabrina—that’s her name, Sabrina Lambert—is expecting me for dinner. How about another drink, and then I’ll walk you to your car?”

She put her glass down so decisively it almost splintered. “No thanks…to both.”

Her response visibly startled him. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said, Todd. You don’t have to buy me another drink, and you don’t have to walk me to my car. Forget what I said about the receipt. In fact, I think I’ll stay a while. As you pointed out, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out and had fun. I’ve decided to start right now.”

Puzzled, he slipped his wallet back inside his coat and stood next to her for a moment, clearly expecting her to change her mind. “You’re sure?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl now, Todd. Didn’t you just tell me so?”

“I guess I did.” Slowly, his look of concern gave way to a goofy smile. “I wasn’t kidding before, you know. She’s really something, Molly.”

“I’m sure she is.” Molly sighed and felt her fury drain away. She was way past being jealous, and he had confided in her as the close friend she considered him. The least she could do was to act like an adult, however bitter the pill she had to swallow. “I am happy for you, Todd. Maybe I could meet her sometime.”

“Absolutely. I’ll mention it to her tonight. Um…there’s one other thing. She’s white. Does that bother you?”

“Of course not. Why should it?”

“I didn’t think it would. Thanks, Mol. You’re the best.”

Her throat felt tight for a long time after Todd sauntered off. She wasn’t sure what hurt worse—the fact that he was in love or that he thought she had nothing to hang onto but a decade-old college romance that had been doomed from the beginning.

What she had wanted was the satisfaction of being the one to turn him down this time. Instead, he had the nerve to recommend that she seduce another man—as if she needed his approval before she’d even consider it!

“Excuse me. Would you like another glass of wine?”

The deep voice came from someone standing just behind her right shoulder. Molly turned, expecting to greet a fawning waiter decked out in The Grapevine’s standard purple waistcoat and bow tie.

Instead, she found herself blinking up at Zane Bishop.

“I hope I’m not bothering you,” he said, apparently misreading the shock on her face. “But it looked like your companion had left, so I decided to come over.”

“Uh—no, not at all. I’m just surprised to see you here.”

The leather jacket was gone, and he’d traded in his casual shirt and jeans for a black button-down shirt and a pair of razor-creased charcoal slacks. Even without a jacket and tie, he seemed perfectly at ease among the silk-suit and Italian-loafer crowd who dominated the place. Part of Molly envied that. She tended to feel like an intruder no matter how hard she tried to fit in.

Just then, a purple-clad waiter carrying a tray of drinks really did glide past their table. Zane leaned over to speak to him and then commandeered Todd’s vacant seat.

“I hope your answer was yes about the wine, because I went ahead and ordered you one. I thought it might be a while before we had another chance. The bar’s getting busy.”

“That’s fine. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

The way Zane settled back and stared while they waited for their drinks to arrive unnerved her a little. He seemed to expect her to make conversation, but for some inexplicable reason her mind felt suddenly wiped clear. Desperately she groped for a topic that would put them both at ease—one that didn’t sound contrived or overly familiar.

“So is your friend coming back?” Zane’s thumb traced a zigzag pattern in the frost on his ale bottle. Molly followed its path and felt herself shiver.

“No. He had other plans.”

“That’s too bad. For him.”

Molly shook her head. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Todd and I have been friends since college. In fact, he helped me get Lovelines off the ground.”

“Oh? That surprises me. I assumed it was a one-woman show.”

“The original idea was mine, but Todd’s technical expertise was invaluable. He’s the one who wrote the matchmaking program I told you about before. He also handles other technical details, like the videos for the client library.”

“Ah.” He paused to toy with the chrome napkin holder. “So tell me…have you ever used a dating service yourself?”

“Actually, no.”

“Not that you’d need to. But isn’t it a bit hypocritical, trying to sell your clients on something you’ve never experienced firsthand? You should date a few of the clients yourself, just to see what it’s like.”

She felt strangely relieved that he was steering the conversation back toward the professional nature of their connection. It was what she’d been telling Brenda all along. Zane Bishop wasn’t interested in her—just in her ability to set him up in a serious relationship.

“You might have a point, but it’s nothing I intend to pursue. Running my own name through the Lovelines computers would be totally unprofessional. It would be almost like a bank manager skimming the till.”

“Interesting analogy.” Zane dropped the napkin holder and laced his fingers in front of him. “I guess I’m just curious about how you got into such an unusual line of work.”

She watched his cotton sleeves brush against the dark, thick hairs that dusted his solid wrists. His chest would be thatched with the same soft, yet undeniably masculine coils. She’d seen it in her dreams the night before. All night.

Much as she hated to admit it, Brenda was right—an ad featuring Zane Bishop would pull in clients like a comet dragging stardust in its tail.

“It was a practical decision more than anything else. I wanted to start my own business, so I tried to think of a commodity people are always interested in buying. Romance is the obvious answer.”

 “That’s an interesting approach to romance. Treat it as a matter of research and negotiation.”

“Aren’t most things?”

 “For some people, yeah, I guess so. Do you like doing what you do?”

She nodded. “It’s satisfying to be my own boss, and I also feel I’m providing an important service to people who need it.” It was time to shift this conversation away from her, Molly decided. Between the wine and his odd effect on her, she was on the verge of revealing things she felt she’d better not. Before he could ask her anything else, therefore, she leaped in with a question of her own. “So, Mr. Bishop, how did you end up at The Grapevine tonight? Is it your usual hangout?”

His laugh made her think of wind-roughened skin rustling against silky fabric. “Mr. Bishop is—was—my father. But even he wasn’t that formal. Please, make it Zane.”

“Zane, then.” Her wine glass was empty. Zane eased it gently from her fingers and set it at the side of the table.

“Actually, I was coming to see you. Just as I turned the corner, I spotted you and your friend crossing the street, so I followed you inside. But don’t worry. If it had looked like I was intruding, I would have left right away.”

So he’d mistaken Todd for her date. Molly almost laughed out loud. That would have been a real hot one, all right—a date on which the guy tells the girl he’s found true love with someone else. Only in her world.

The waiter was back, his tray laden with drained bottles and glasses, asking if they wanted more. Zane added their empties to the collection.

“Same thing again?” the waiter asked, but Zane shook his head. His attention was riveted on Molly.

“I don’t want another drink.” Rising, he extended his open hand toward her. Dimly, above her thudding pulse, Molly heard the music on the dance floor shift to something slow and sultry. “I want to dance with you.”

Chapter Three

The couples around them fanned out to make room as they drifted to the middle of the small dance floor. Cupping Molly’s elbows in his palms, Zane drew her closer until the lapels of her jacket brushed his chest.

Their first steps together were more or less in sync, but the movements of her hips and shoulders seemed stiff, almost forced.

“I didn’t make you uncomfortable by asking you to dance, did I? I wouldn’t have been offended if you’d turned me down. Disappointed, but not offended.”

“Of course I’m not uncomfortable.” Her hands rose to his upper arms and clutched uncertainly at his sleeves. “Todd just finished telling me that I need to have more fun. You’re a witness to my first official attempt. I hope that’s all right.”

 “It’s my pleasure. But if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t exactly look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“No?” Her forehead crinkled in a studious frown he found unexpectedly endearing. “I’m trying my hardest.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. What you need to do is relax…
really
relax, all over. Why don’t you just lean into me and let me do all the work?”

“Well…all right.”

Zane doubted he’d ever seen such a skeptical expression on such an attractive face. Still, she did seem willing to follow his lead. He slid his arms around her waist, dragging his palms lightly over her hipbones, and felt her grip on his biceps slowly soften.

“That’s it,” he murmured, stepping closer to enclose her body in his own. As she leaned cautiously into his embrace, Zane’s eyes settled on the delicate curve of her cocoa-colored throat, so perfectly framed by the open collar of her blouse and the squared edge of her trendy bang cut.

After a few moments, her frozen, self-conscious posture seemed to thaw. Her head tilted forward, allowing him to rest his cheek against the delicate sweep of her eyebrow. A slight roll of her shoulders brought the plush swell of her breasts into nerve-buzzing contact with his chest.