Captivated By The Tycoon. Anna DePaloЧитать онлайн книгу.
It’s time.”
“Time?”
He gave a curt nod. “I’ve spent the past decade putting in long hours in the boardroom, but I don’t want to be sixty by the time my kids hit Little League.”
He made it sound so methodical. So logical, she thought.
“Besides,” he went on, “I don’t have the time to take a scattershot approach. I’m counting on finding the right woman by the time the Sentinel gets around to naming its Most Eligible Bachelor again three months from now.”
He was seeking her out, Lauren thought, for the same reason a lot of her high-powered clients did. Neither he nor they had the time to take a casual approach to finding Mr. or Ms. Right. And with their type A personalities, they thought finding the right mate could be approached in the same way as they did everything else in their lives—throw some money at the problem and hire someone to do the legwork.
She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised a corporate mogul like Matt would think he could tackle finding a wife in the same way.
“Hiring a matchmaker isn’t a quick-fix solution,” she warned. “My clients sometimes forget they still need to commit time, effort and emotional energy to nourish a relationship.”
He nodded. “Understood. I’ll make the time, but I’ll rely on you to make it worth it.” After a pause, he added, “There’ll be excellent publicity for Ideal Match if you pair off Boston’s Most Eligible Bachelor.”
He had a point there. Naturally, astute businessman that he was, he couldn’t resist pointing out the bottom-line benefits of taking him on as a client.
Parker, her ex-fiancé, had been the same way. Of course, since Matt and Parker had been buddies at Harvard Business School, it wasn’t surprising there were other similarities between them.
She, on the other hand, was a walking billboard for making business decisions with her heart and not her head. Fortunately, she’d chosen a field where that kind of thinking was rewarded. Still, she was probably the only matchmaker in the city of Boston who took on charity cases, thanks to her volunteer work at a senior citizens’ retirement community.
Yet, if she succeeded in pairing Matt off with Ms. Right, Ideal Match would be vaulted to a whole new level of visibility. It would be a major coup, in fact. So what if Matthew Whittaker was an ever-present reminder she was a phony whose fiancé had jilted her and whose personal experience of passion and love everlasting was nil?
She thought again about how much taking on Matt would help her business. Surely she could handle him. She’d held her own against difficult CEOs who were too busy to follow up on dates, pompous perfectionists who thought they were God’s gift to women, and even teary-eyed prima donnas who’d been planning their weddings in the womb.
She watched now as Matt looked around her office.
Ideal Match was located in one of downtown Boston’s sleek new office towers. Most of her clients were busy professionals who not only expected a certain image from her business, but ease of accessibility, as well.
But while the building was sleek and new, she’d tried hard to make Ideal Match’s offices comfy and inviting. The decorating scheme was dark woods dressed in maroons and browns and highlighted with creams and some gold.
“You’ve been doing well for yourself,” he said finally, his eyes coming back to hers. “When did you start Ideal Match?”
“Over four years ago. You’d be surprised at how much a flawless diamond engagement ring can fetch at a pawnshop.”
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Had he expected her to crawl into a hole five years ago and refuse to emerge? She had been tempted to run back to California and her family’s comforting embrace, but she’d resisted the urge.
He cocked his head and regarded her steadily. “No, I’m not surprised,” he murmured, before adding more distinctly, “I’m glad the past few years have been good for you.”
She limited herself to thanking him politely, because the last thing she wanted was to revisit that fateful day with him.
Hers was supposed to have been the perfect June wedding. Even the weather had cooperated. It had been sunny and warm. But aside from the weather, nothing had gone as planned.
Growing up, she’d always been afraid that if she threw a party, it would be a flop. Her wedding was supposed to have been the biggest party she’d ever hosted but instead it had been her worst nightmare.
Still, even when things had gone awry, nothing had followed a trite script. The groom hadn’t run off, leaving his best man to give the bride the bad news. Instead, Parker had come himself. And, she hadn’t fallen into a fit of tears. Instead, she’d squared her shoulders and gone on with the party.
She’d been adjusting her veil in her hotel suite when Parker had appeared, saying they needed to talk. The rest had played like a head-on collision in slow motion: she could see it coming, but she was powerless to do anything about it. He was calling off the wedding…things just didn’t feel right…he had some more living to do…sorry for hurting her.
She’d just stared at Parker, watching the words come out of his mouth but unable to react because of the paralyzing shock gripping her.
He hadn’t even had the decency to tell her his news the night before, at the rehearsal dinner, before nearly one hundred fifty wedding guests were packing the church, lining the aisle she was supposed to walk down in the next hour.
And then her eyes had slid to Matt, who’d appeared behind Parker. He’d been dressed in groomsman’s attire, but the look on his face had been stony and forbidding. If she’d been seeking a shoulder to cry on, his was obviously not available.
Ironically, his reaction had fortified her. An announcement had been made to the guests, and then with head held high, she’d gone on with the reception—this time as a salute to the wedding that wasn’t. The guests had admired her pluck, but only she knew how devastating it had been to take off for her honeymoon with her maid of honor instead of her husband.
And yet, she’d managed to turn adversity on its head. She’d left the matchmaking firm she’d been working for and started her own business. Although she had no desire for a repeat walk down the aisle herself, she believed she’d learned from hard experience how to gauge compatibility.
Pairing up happy couples had helped her heal. She could count multiple marriages among her success stories, and at each ceremony, she’d cried tears of happiness.
“It’s still painful for you,” Matt said, calling her back from her thoughts.
There wasn’t any need for him to elaborate. They both knew what he was talking about. Wanting to change the course of the conversation, she reached over to the coffee table in front of them for the folder Candace had left for her.
Somewhere along the way—and maybe it was just some immature need to prove to him she’d moved on with her life—she’d decided to take him on as a client.
Opening the folder, she said, “So, what are you looking for in a woman?”
You. The answer jumped unbidden into his head.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
Matt gave himself a mental shake. He hadn’t given much thought to putting into words what he was looking for in a woman.
Aloud he said, testing, “Down-to-earth.”
“Anything else?”
He thought for a moment. “Stylish.”
He noticed she wore a black V-neck top over a slim gray skirt and high-heeled black leather boots. Her jewelry was simple—just hoop earrings, a watch and a lariat necklace.
She looked over the questionnaire he’d filled out in the reception area, then glanced up, frowning.