Ms. Match (6 page)

When was the last time, at least before the anniversary party, he’d felt relaxed? When every move hadn’t been calculated to get him either a client or a woman?

It was time he had a friend. Admittedly it was odd that the friend in question was a woman. He’d never believed that it would be possible, but this might work.

“Gwen didn’t tell me you were into baseball.”

He turned to Holly, keeping half an eye on the big screen for the next question. “I’m a fool when it comes to baseball. And football. Basketball. Soccer, not so much.”

“Boy, no wonder you two get along. She’s the biggest sports nut I know.”

“You two work together?”

Holly nodded. She was a reasonably attractive girl, even though she wasn’t terribly polished. Her hair was a wild mass of blondish curls that didn’t do a lot for her. Then there were the eyebrows. But her skin was good and her smile friendly.

Autumn would have dismissed her without a second glance, would accuse him of slumming. He saw it as expanding his repertoire. So what that none of these women would ever appear on the cover of a magazine. They were real. And he needed some real in his life.

“What about you?” He glanced at her Nomar Garciaparra T-shirt, the Dodger third baseman the women all seemed to love. “Is that just to fit in with the natives?”

“I love me some Nomar,” she said, “but honestly I come here for the people. I never even try to win at this—oh, another question.”

He pressed the correct button, then noticed her hit one that was terribly wrong. No use butting in. She clearly didn’t care if she lost.

Gwen, however, did. He wasn’t keeping close enough track of her picks, but from her sly smile he gathered she was finding this as easy as he was. He wished the questions would get more challenging.

“One more, then there’s a break,” Holly said. “Round two is harder.”

“So Gwen said. She’s pretty good at this stuff, huh?”

“Amazing. I have no idea how she keeps all of it in her head. And it’s not just sports. No one will play Trivial Pursuit with her anymore because she always wins. She’s got one of those brains.”

Paul nodded. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Don’t get me wrong. She’s a really good sport about it. I mean she hardly ever gloats.”

“Hardly ever?”

“Only if someone’s being an asshole about winning. Men, I mean.”

“We can be real jerks.”

“I’m sure you’re not.”

He answered the final question of the round. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

He felt Gwen’s attention, even though he wasn’t looking her way. Not sure how, but he absolutely knew she was listening. He kept his gaze on Holly. “Then she’s not going to cry when I win this thing tonight?”

Holly smiled. “Uh, no.”

“Not even in secret? Come on. You can tell me.”

“Well, she did cry this one time—”

“Holly.” Gwen’s voice carried over all the room chatter. “What the hell are you telling him?”

“Nothing. I swear.”

Paul checked his grin as he turned to Gwen. “It’s okay. I understand. Women get all emotional, and that’s part of their charm.”

“I don’t get all emo—” She stopped. Gave an enormous sigh. “You are an evil man. You tricked me with all the dancing, but now I see it. You’re just evil.”

“Me? Nah. I’m the sweetest guy you’ll ever meet.”

The look she gave him was actually unsettling. It wasn’t at all what he was used to. The women he knew tended to have their own agendas blocking most honest interactions, and truth be known he wasn’t any different. But Gwen—her eyes were clear, her evaluation of him held no slack.

If there was going to be a friendship with her, it would be on the level. Straight up, no bullshit. He hadn’t had a friendship like that since high school. Huh. Tom Sutherland. They’d been close from the middle of grade school until just after high school graduation. He hadn’t thought of Tom in a long time. He’d had a stare like Gwen’s, only Tom’s eyes weren’t such a bold green. They weren’t quite as unflinching. And, of course, he hadn’t been a woman.

Gwen’s expression changed as he watched, her examination of him growing more intense by the second. Finally, she asked a question that took him totally by surprise. “What’s this about, Paul? Really?”

Honesty. No bullshit. He would stick to the game plan. “I hope we can be friends.”

“Why?” she asked, too quickly. “I’ve already earned you all the points I can with Autumn. She won’t think this is charming. In fact, it will make her think less of you.”

He’d figured that out for himself, but he didn’t want to talk about Autumn. “I enjoyed myself the other night, and I’m enjoying myself now. I have a feeling you’re someone worth knowing.”

Gwen’s expression changed once more. This time he wished he hadn’t seen it. Her look made it perfectly clear that she didn’t share his desire for friendship. That, in fact, she didn’t find him worth knowing at all.

He called the waitress back, not sure what to do. Crack a joke? Flirt with Holly? Ask Gwen to reconsider?

Reconsider? Why would he want to be with someone who didn’t want him? He had no idea. The whole thing was preposterous. He wanted Autumn, not Gwen. Autumn, with her sexy laugh, her amazing curves and that stunningly beautiful face. Yeah, so why should he give a damn that her less-than-beautiful sister didn’t want to be friends? He shouldn’t. But he did.

Tough.

She looked over at him, so artfully hiding that he’d been wounded by their exchange. What did he expect? He’d come uninvited. He was Autumn’s bonbon and in different circumstances Paul and she would never have crossed paths. Now he wanted to be friends?

The question came up on the board. Judge Kennesaw Mountain Landis was the first Commissioner of Baseball. Who was the seventh? Damn. It had to be Giamatti. If not, well, she was still one up on Paul.

Giamatti, it was.

She glanced at Paul’s machine, but couldn’t tell if he’d gotten it right. He’d shifted his seat so he faced the table squarely instead of tilting a bit toward her.

Which brought her right back to feeling guilty.

This time when the waitress came around, Gwen eschewed her club soda and went for the beer.

If they hadn’t been in the middle of a table full of coworkers, she’d have talked to him. Asked him again what had really prompted his trip. He didn’t belong here, any more than she would belong at Fashion Week.

He’d certainly sounded sincere, but that’s what he did for a living. Sadly, she wouldn’t put it past her sister to have made this evening some kind of test or maybe even a dare.

Gwen had toyed with the idea of moving out of California. Rockland had other offices, including one in New York. She’d never lived anywhere but SoCal, still, being this close to her family simply wasn’t good for her health. There were birthdays and anniversaries and weddings and all manner of holidays and she could only come up with so many excuses not to attend.

Next up her sister Bethany and husband, Harry, were having a big birthday bash for Gwen’s niece, Nickie, who would turn one. Gwen had been roped into bringing her famous red velvet cupcakes, which meant she really couldn’t bow out, even though she’d rather have a root canal.

There were only a few questions left, and Gwen put all her energy into answering them correctly. No distractions allowed. She aced the first one. Dammit, she missed the second. Got lucky on the third. The last one, though, was a gift. She’d just read the answer in one of her dozens of baseball books. She pressed the button and sat back in her chair. No gloating yet. Not until she saw how Paul did. The final scores always took about ten minutes, so she’d just relax and wait.

Holly appeared behind her and gave her a whack on her upper arm. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Just come with me.”

Gwen knew that tone. She excused herself to Paul and obediently trotted behind Holly to the ladies’ room.

Holly folded her arms. Not a good sign. “What are you doing?”

“What are you talking about?”

“First, you completely lied about how gorgeous Paul is.”

“Hey—”

“We can talk about that later. Now, I want to know why you’re being such a bitch.”

Gwen tried to keep her temper. “I realize it might be difficult to think of Paul as a person, but try, okay? I didn’t invite him here. I hardly know him. Why should I bend over backward?”

“Bend over? Please. You’re acting like he’s got the plague.”

“I am not.”

Holly’s eyes widened and she stepped closer to Gwen. This time, when she yelled, it was in a whisper. “I know when you’re being nice and when you’re not. You’re not. Even if you don’t like the guy, he hasn’t done anything bad. So ease up. Give him a break.”

“You’re only saying this because he’s handsome. Well, screw handsome.”

Holly sighed. “I wish. But it’s not true. I’m saying this because you’re not that kind of person. Even when you’re pissed off, you’ve got more class than anyone I know. Just, I don’t know, ease up. He’s a guest, invited or not. You don’t have to talk to him ever again if you don’t want to, but while he’s at our table…”

“Yes, Mom. Do I have to wait for you, or can I go back and see the scoreboard?”

“You may go back.”

Gwen touched her friend’s arm. “I’ll try.”

The smile she received in return let her know that all was well. At least with Holly.

Was she truly being a bitch? She’d figured she was just being honest. But maybe the guilt didn’t have to do with what she said so much as her overall attitude.

Paul stood as she came back to her funky chair at the beat-up old table. He sat only after her tush touched down. Yeah. He really fit in.

“When do we find out who won?” he asked, but his voice was tight, his expression unreadable.

“Any minute now.” She turned her chair so she faced him. “What did you think of the questions?”

He took in a deep breath, then let it go. When he answered, it was Paul again. Completely confident and more than pleasant. “Easy, medium, hard. As warned. And the hard were really hard.”

“That’s a good thing?”

“Wouldn’t be fun if it was all two plus two.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Paul’s shoulders relaxed. The smile he’d pasted on just a moment ago turned into something far more natural and pleasing. Maybe Holly had been right.

“Look, about this friendship thing…”

“Hey, I was rude—”

“No.” Paul held up a hand to stop her. “I get it. Putting aside my exceptional dancing skills, I haven’t given you much to admire. Even if I win tonight, it doesn’t say anything real about me. And I know how you feel about Autumn, so…”

“Yeah. I haven’t said many nice things about her, have I?”

“She’s not all that bad, but I get your point. You two are night and day.”

“Which has a lot to do with my, uh, curiosity about you showing up here. Did Autumn—”

“Autumn has no idea where I am. Or with whom I choose to spend my time.”

“I see.”

“I realize it was out of line for me to just show up here—”

“It wasn’t. It’s nice that you came.”

He turned more toward her. “Really?”

“Confusing, but nice.”

“Confusing, huh? Yeah, I guess I see your point. Anyway, what do you say? Will you come with me to the game? You pick the day.”

Nothing about this made any sense. She couldn’t quite get over the idea that Autumn had something to do with this, but man, she wanted to see a game from one of the suites. What was the worst that could happen? “Who else will be there?”

“No one. Unless you want to invite some of your friends.”

“You want me to go with you to the game.”

He nodded. “Does that sound so strange?”

Now it was her turn to nod.

“Do it anyway. You won’t believe the view. Not to mention the food.”

“Over first or third?”

He grinned. “First.”

“Can I still get a dog?”

“All you want.”

She sighed. “Okay. We’ll give it a try.”

He put his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze. “Excellent.”

She almost backed out right then. Not because of his reaction, but because of her own. Her throat had tightened and her belly was doing stupid things, and why? Because he’d touched her. Absurd. With a smile that was as nice as she could make it, she slipped her hand from under his.

“This Sunday?” he asked.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

“Is that the final score?” He was nodding toward the big screen behind her.

She looked at the names. Newbie was number one. She had come in second, by one point.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, with just a bit of a gloat.

The others at the table weren’t so gallant.

“Sonofabitch!” Ken actually got to his feet and held out his beer for a toast. “The queen has been knocked off her throne.”

“No wonder you didn’t want him here,” Ellen said as she tapped her glass against Ken’s.

“I knew we should have had side bets.” Steph nodded toward Paul. “I could have made a fortune.”

“Thanks, but it was only one point.”

Ken made a rude sound. “Close only counts in horseshoes, buddy. You kicked her ass. Not that we don’t take a great deal of pride in our Gwen.”

Holly slugged Ken in the arm. “You’re only saying that because she’s your boss.”

“True.”

Gwen had to smile. She knew they all meant well. She wasn’t thrilled that she’d lost, but she did have to admit Paul hadn’t lied about his knowledge of baseball. Maybe the day at the park would be fun. And maybe he was telling the truth about the rest.

Maybe.

PAUL FINISHED HIS PHONE CALL with Maggie Crawford at Imagine Films, then leaned back in his chair to stare out his window. It had been a brutal week. Lots of people not being where they were supposed to be. People not signing contracts. Lawyers and agents and all the other crap that were part and parcel of the business but the stuff he hated.

At least it was over, and Sunday the Dodgers were playing the Braves. Plus one.

He’d almost canceled about five times since Monday night. He had no business asking Gwen to come with him, and yet he’d never managed to make the call that would put an end to it.

No wonder Gwen had looked at him as if he were nuts. He was. He had friends. Plenty of them. All of them were guys, but so what? He’d never thought much about having a woman friend, and he wasn’t convinced he could or should have one now.

Then what was this about? He didn’t want to sleep with her. He had nothing to gain by her acquaintance. They both loved baseball, but again, so what?

He tried to come up with good reasons for not canceling. All he could manage was that it wouldn’t be so bad.

As he relaxed, as his defenses went down, he remembered for the hundredth time the real reason for wanting to back out of this “date.”

When she’d implied he wasn’t someone worth knowing, it had hit him so hard he’d lost his bearings. Not for long, he was too good at his job for that, but shit, it had been rocky for a few seconds there. It had felt like a slap in the face. Like a gut punch. What had sent him reeling wasn’t that he’d been insulted. It was because he’d had no comeback. Nothing. Zilch. Why would she want to know him?

He was flash. The sizzle, not the steak. He got away with most everything, always had. It was so easy with women he hardly had to try. In his business his face was his most important asset and he knew it. No sweat there.

He’d come up with a lot of reasons he should be worth knowing. He’d graduated from Yale. He knew all the celebrities that mattered. He had money. He could get into the best restaurants all over the world. He was Paul Bennet, and that had always mattered.

Only not with Gwen. Not one of the things on his list would impress her. Except for Yale, though somehow he knew she understood he hadn’t gotten by on brains.

With Gwen, it was all about substance, and the truth was, he didn’t have much. His charity work and donations were less about giving than getting. He made sure every donation was well publicized. He didn’t have a belief system so much as a code that put him first, everyone else second. When had he last read a book that wasn’t about sports or money? When had he had a conversation about anything that mattered?

And why the hell did he want to?

It was crazy. He was crazy. Had to be. There was nothing about his life that everyone he knew didn’t envy. That was as it should be. He’d been born in the right place at the right time. Why shouldn’t he enjoy it?

All his life he’d, well, underestimated people like Gwen. Those who didn’t meet his standards. People who didn’t matter to the tabloids had rarely mattered to him. It had been easier that way. It kept his world view controllable. Why mess that up now?

“Paul?”

He clicked on his intercom. “Yeah?”

“Someone’s here to see you. She doesn’t wish me to give her name. She wants it to be a surprise.”

“Send her in.”

He straightened up, ran a hand through his hair, wondering if it could be Gwen. He felt a little surge of anticipation as he stood.

The door opened and in walked Autumn. The small stab of disappointment knocked him back to his senses. Autumn was all soft hair, big eyes and long legs. They hadn’t spoken since that night at Nobu, and for the life of him he couldn’t recall why he’d thought that was a good idea.

“I owe you an apology,” she said, moving toward him with a sway that would tempt a monk.

“For what?”

“For leaving you the other night. I was so naughty. And after all you did for me.”

She’d reached his desk, and then she moved around it so she was just in front of his chair. She put her hands on the armrests and leaned over close enough for him to catch a whiff of the essence of sin.

He tore his gaze away from her face just so he could appreciate the view of her breasts. They were perfect. Her low-cut dress combined with the modern wonders of the push-up bra and he stopped castigating himself about past mistakes to concentrate on mistakes he could make right now.