Tamed by You (12 page)

"But you still live there, happily," Julie pointed out.

"I'm obviously desperate." Sophie sighed. "He doesn't think I can do
Doctor Zhivago
."

Julie frowned. "He said that?"

"Mostly. He said it'd be career suicide."

"Maybe he meant it differently."

"Regardless, he was less than enthusiastic."

"I can see how that'd bother you." Her friend nodded.
"
Anything else on your
list of grievances?"

He hadn't kissed her again.

Her lips formed a moue.

"Uh-oh." Julie blinked. "Has the man not tried to get into your pants?"

"Charming."

"You obviously don't hang around me for my manners." She joined Sophie, prodding her with a bony elbow. "Stop hogging the counter."

Sophie moved over so Julie could hop up. They sat there in silence before Julie finally said, "What do you know about him?"

"He's a fantastic agent with unerring instincts," she replied instantly. "He's kind, because he could have kicked me out but he tolerates me the same way you do. And he loves his sister."

Julie nodded. "What does he know about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Who does he think you are? Sophie Martineau?
Or Sarah Martin?
Does he
even
know your real name
, or that you're the type of person who'll make her accountant call a random florist she met and have him pretend that the florist just won bookkeeping services for the rest of her life?"

Sophie blinked innocently. "What?"

"Please. You aren't that good an actress."

"Yes, I am."

Julie rolled her eyes.
"I'm just saying you should let him know that you aren't a complete bitch the way you come off."

"You have such a way with words." She smiled at her friend. "Thank you, even though nothing you've said has helped."

"Then why do you thank me?"

"Because you care."

Julie's face twisted in disgust. "
Shit
."

"What?"

"You're deliberately trying to make me cry, aren't you?" Grumbling, she hopped down from the counter and went back to her flowers.

Smiling, Sophie took out her journal. She'd written several lines before she realized the feeling inside her chest was happiness. She inhaled it, held it there, and then expelled it, relieved when it lingered.

Chapter Thirteen

"Coming here to spend time with you was the best thing, Valentine." Her mother set aside the reports from the Los Angeles branch and smiled happily. "I feel infinitely better."

"Oh, good." Valentine perked up. Her mom certainly looked better—more like her usual self. She never thought she'd find herself happy that her mom was bossing her around, but she really was.

"My heart feels healthy." Her mother picked up her mocha, took a sip, and hummed. "I feel like I have a new lease on life."

Maybe this was the moment to tell her mom about the app and Ethan. She'd been trying to since yesterday after she ran in to him. She was running out of time—her dinner date with him was tonight. "Good, because I wanted—"

"I think I just needed a change of scenery," Venus continued. "I was so close to my mother, seeing her every day. When she was suddenly gone, nothing felt right. It was like there was a sudden void, and it kept gaping bigger."

Valentine watched her mom's expression carefully, but while there was lingering sadness, it wasn't more than that. She breathed a sigh of relief. "I guess Dad and your doctor were right."

"Yes. Your poor father was so worried about me." She smiled fondly. "I miss him. As soon as you find Ethan Hunter a match, I think I'll go home."

Now was the time. Heart pounding, she nodded. "I wanted to talk to you about that."

Her mother perked up. "Have you found him a match?"

"I think so. Take a look at this." She opened the app and held out the phone.

"What is it?" her mom asked as she reluctantly took the phone.

"I developed a matchmaking app." She leaned forward. "You enter all the pertinent information and it connects with a database to offer you matches in your area. There's also a questionnaire, and the more questions you answer, the better your matches are. Tap the screen. It'll guide you through the entire process."

Her mother stared at the screen silently.

Okay, maybe she needed to offer proof that it worked. "I inputted Ethan Hunter's information in the app, and do you know who it paired him with? Me."

Her mother frowned at her. "That's preposterous, Valentine."

"Really." She pulled up the results and held out the phone again. "See. It gave us a ninety-three percent compatibility rating."

"A machine can't pair two people." Venus shook her head, her lips a thin line. Two splotches of red flushed high on her cheeks.

Valentine blinked, starting to get worried. But her mom had assured her she was all good, so she forged ahead. "A machine can find probable matches based on the same information we use. Think of it, Mom. Everyone has a phone, and everyone wants to find love, but not everyone has the hefty fee we charge."

Venus lifted her chin. "We're worth it."

"Of course we are. We care, and a phone isn't going to know one way or the other. But everyone can afford a few dollars for the app."

"This isn't about money."

Valentine rolled her eyes. "Of course it's about money, Mom. You yourself said you came here to make sure I was on target and profitable."

"As a by-product of you satisfying your destiny! Not because I want you to make money." Her mother stood up and raked a hand through her previously perfect hair. "Matchmaking is a personal art. You talk to people and feel a way to find their true mate. Computers can't take into account chemistry."

"They can if they ask the right questions, and I programmed in the right questions." With Isabella's help. "Look at the way it paired me and Ethan."

"Exactly, Valentine." Her mom waved wildly, her shirt yanking out of her skirt. "Ethan Hunter is the absolute worst possible choice for you."

Valentine thought of how she felt when he kissed her and shook her head. It wasn't true, but now wasn't the time to point that out. Her mom was starting to get agitated. "Maybe you need to sit down, Mom."

"I know what I'm talking about, Valentine," her mom exclaimed, ignoring her. "I reviewed his profile and he's awful for you. Granted, he looks quite virile and I could see how that could turn a normally practical head like yours, but he's not for you."

Maybe she didn't want to be practical anymore. She crossed her arms to keep from saying anything that'd upset her mom more.

"I know someone like him is exciting, but you don't have what he'd need to stay interested for long. You aren't that type of girl, Valentine. I hate to say that, but I don't want you to be hurt."

"You don't know what type of girl I am," she couldn't stop herself from saying.

"I know my own daughter."
Her mother
's
voice escalat
ed, her face reddening dangerously
.
"I've always had a vision for your life, just like my mother had for me, and I'm not going to let any of us down.
I just want the best for you, just like my mother gave me."

"Okay, Mom," she said in a hopefully soothing voice. "I know, and you're doing a great job."

"No, I'm not!" Venus clutched her chest, her breathing labored.

"
Mom.
" Valentine rushed to her side. "Sit down. Can you breathe? Is it your heart?"

"I'm okay," Venus said weakly, lying down on the chaise.

Her mom was so pale it freaked her out. She twisted her hands. "Should I call an ambulance? Or Dad, or your doctor?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should go in for that test the doctor wanted to do."

"
No
. I just need to rest." She closed her eyes.

"Okay." Valentine stood there at a loss. "Can I get you anything?"

"I just need quiet."

"You want me to go?"

"Please."

She drooped, feeling like she'd failed as a daughter. Swallowing her guilt, she nodded. "Okay, Mom. Call me if you need anything."

Her mom nodded weakly. Then, right as Valentine opened the door, Venus said, "I just want what's best for you sweetheart."

"I know, Mom," she said quietly, letting herself out.

Upset and worried, not knowing what to do, Valentine stopped in front of
Grounds for Thought and
paced. She didn't need caffeine—she was agitated enough. So she tried calling Marley.

No answer
.

Maybe she should go see Nicole. She turned her head in the direction of Romantic Notions, the lingerie shop where her friend worked, but Ethan's form blocked all view.

She frowned at him, not because she wasn't happy to see him but because she was. Too happy.

"W
h
at's wrong?"
he asked.

"I
can't see you
."

He looked down at himself.
"
Am I invisible
?"

"
Not hardly
." She sighed. "
And that's the problem
."

"It sounds like you need a friendly ear."

Or a padded cell for her mom. She sighed.

He nodded toward his apartment building. "Want to come up
and tell me about it
?"

She hesitated. "Do you have vodka?"

"It's eleven in the morning."

"I know. I can't believe I waited this long."

"I don't believe vodka's your drink
."
He looked at her up and down.
"
You're more of a warm milk girl."

"See?
" She frowned.
"
T
h
at's the problem. No one knows me, except for Isabella."

"Isabella
's your sister, right
?"

"Yes,
m
y
lucky twin sister."

"Lucky?"

"Because she's happy,
and I'm stuck with this lot in life.
"

He tipped his head. "
I thought you loved your life.
"

"
I
t's damn great." She pouted.

Ethan grinned.

Holy cow. She gaped at him. He was beautiful when he smiled
.

As she tried not to swallow her tongue, he took her arm and led her into his building. Walking into his apartment, he asked, "I
s your sister exactly like you?
"

She shook her head, mostly to clear the lust. "
Not at all. People think we look exactly the same, but we don't.
You wouldn't be able to tell us apart."

"Wanna bet?" He glanced at her mouth as he unlocked his door and motioned her inside. "Sit. I'll bring you a drink."

Instead of sitting, she went to his dining room table, which apparently doubled as a workshop. The infamous notebook was there, but it was closed. She wanted to see what was inside, but she had to respect his privacy. Instead she picked up a mold of teeth and inspected it. "What are you working on?"

He came into the room holding out a glass to her. "I didn't have vodka, but my friend Bull left some whiskey here for himself. Knowing Bull, it's expensive stuff. I figured you'd like it with ice."

She sniffed at the glass. It smelled smoky and potent. She normally didn't drink much, but what the heck? She took a big sip. It burned on the way down, and she couldn't help grimacing.

"Good," she rasped when she realized he watched her. She waved to his table. "Does this have to do with what's in your notebook?"

"I'm surprised you haven't peeked in there."

"I didn't want to pry."

He looked pointedly at the mold in her hand.

Smiling sheepishly, she set it down. "What are you making?"

"A mouthpiece that'll absorb the shock of a heavy blow. To keep head injuries to a minimum."

"What happens if you get hit in the ear instead of the jaw? Or the temple?"

He frowned.

It was obvious he didn't like her statement, so she backtracked, hoping to distract him. "Do you have a formula that works?"

"I think so. I'm waiting for Bull to help me test it out."

She perked up. "That's so great. I'm sure a lot of people would use it."

"I'm making it for myself." He turned his back, but he said, "I used to be a fighter before a bad concussion. They don't think I should fight anymore, but I thought with something protective enough I'd be okay. You raised good questions though. I'll have to think about it."

Suddenly it all clicked: his surliness, his focused determination to do nothing but work on his project, and his isolation. She'd Google him later, but she bet he'd been a good fighter, too.

She wondered if the mouthpiece would really protect him that much. She didn't like the thought of him hurt—at all.

But he obviously cared about this a lot, and her intuition told her this could be a great product. "You should market this. I mean, use it yourself, but sell it to others, too. Remember the old Hair Club for Men ads? You could be not just the owner but a customer, too."

"I don't know the first thing about marketing."

She shrugged. "You can hire a company to handle the sales and marketing while you drink daiquiris on a beach somewhere. It'd be profitable, even if you gave someone a share of the business. You could even start a whole line of protective equipment."

He stared at her blankly, as if she'd just sprouted another head.

"I just think about stuff like that a lot." She hid her face in the drink. "Sorry. I get carried away."

"How do you know all that?" he asked, leaning against a chair.

Not wanting to get into it, she shrugged. "I dabble."

"
A dabbling matchmaker?
"

"
I don't know about the matchmaker part.
" She made a face that only partially had to do with the whiskey.
"
I'm not very good at it but I'm fated to it, so I don't have a choice.
"