Chapter 5 #2
But then it struck her. Were sparks a good thing? After all, Walter Braedon was a billionaire. And Flo could easily get her heart broken a second time. Michaela could not stand it if her mother got hurt.
Maybe, after all, it was better for Flo to steer clear. Just as it was better for Michaela to steer clear of Troy Harrington in any other capacity than as a client.
The best thing Michaela could do was find the perfect match for him ASAP.
Michaela spent the Monday after Gareth Tate’s exhibition searching for a match for Gabby Harrington.
She’d never had such a tough time, though she usually found it was harder to find good matches for women than men.
Gabby wanted perfect, but of course no man was perfect.
Spending time with Gabby at the showing—where she’d literally had to tell Troy to shut up and get out because he kept wanting to put his two cents in—she’d quizzed the woman about herself, about how she viewed her own life and herself as a human being.
She did not ask about the kind of man she might be interested in.
Often, people thought they wanted one thing, when in reality they wanted something entirely different.
Michaela had always found it best to learn everything she could about her client first.
A vivacious free spirit, Gabby owned a franchise of plant-based bakery cafés.
When starting her business, she’d seen a hole she could fill as more and more people chose a plant-based diet.
And they were dying for yummy baked goods.
She wasn’t militant about converting anyone else to the lifestyle and even occasionally indulged in meat products.
“Sometimes I crave a hearty, meaty dish,” Gabby had admitted.
And Michaela had added, “Oh my gosh, you’d love my mother’s Irish stew.”
Gabby created the recipes, although if a franchisee or an employee came up with something amazing, she loved to add it to the menu, giving them credit.
She operated her own bakery café in Carmel, which was where she did all her testing and apparently had quite an extensive kitchen.
She was all about her work. Her forms of relaxation were long walks on the beach, hiking at Point Lobos or any of the other nearby state parks, and reading.
Now Michaela was having difficulty finding the perfect match for the workaholic baker. But it was only her first day on the job, and she still had high hopes.
Troy, on the other hand, was quite simple.
He was fun-loving with a humorous nature, goal-oriented, intelligent, and hardworking, if his gold medals, his sporting goods empire, and his new venture with Matt Tremont were any indication.
Michaela represented a number of accomplished women looking for the right match.
Yet Michaela kept passing over candidate after candidate.
This went on into Tuesday morning. The truth was she felt a little hitch in her chest every time she thought about picking up the phone to call a potential match for him.
She’d never felt jealousy over any of the men she’d matched with amazing women.
Because she didn’t date billionaires. She just didn’t .
Which meant she couldn’t be jealous over Troy Harrington.
“Get over yourself,” she hissed to her empty office. Then she forced herself to dial.
When Michaela took her own emotions out of the equation, Alice Fletcher was a perfect match. After extolling Troy’s virtues, she said to Alice, “I think you’d enjoy spending time with Troy.”
Alice huffed out a breath. “I’m not sold on the idea,” she admitted. “He’s not exactly my type. You know I like the brainy ones rather than the sporty ones.”
Michaela could have told her that Troy’s sporty background had also given him the physique of an Olympian.
And he had the looks of an Olympic god. But she never liked to make a match based purely on physique or looks.
Alice was a beautiful woman—drop-dead gorgeous, in fact.
She was also intelligent, accomplished, philanthropic, and a bit picky about the men she wanted to be matched with.
But this was good, right? Alice didn’t want to go out with him.
Michaela would have to keep searching. Maybe she’d never find anyone.
But what if the next lady she found was over the moon about a date with Troy?
Maybe it was better that he go out with someone like Alice, who was on the fence about him.
Oh God, she couldn’t be jealous. She had to make this date work.
Instead of touting Troy’s physical attributes, Michaela said, “You know he owns a huge sports gear conglomerate. He might be athletic, but he didn’t get where he is without being brainy too.
” She specifically used Alice’s descriptor.
“And you don’t get to be an Olympic gold medalist without being smart, dedicated, and goal-oriented. ”
She finally got Alice’s agreement. “All right, I’ll go on one date. But if he’s full of himself, I’m out of there.”
Michaela was almost affronted. “I would never take on a client who’s full of himself.” Then she added, “Or herself.”
Alice laughed. “You’re right. I’m being full of myself.”
Michaela said with a smile in her voice, “I never said that.”
She could almost see Alice pointing a finger at her.
“You didn’t need to say it. Go ahead and make the date.
Let me check my calendar.” She was silent for a few seconds before she came back.
“I’m free on Thursday. But the weekend is completely booked.
If Thursday doesn’t work, we’ll have to do something next week.
Oh, and don’t make it too early. Maybe around eight. ”
They ended the call, and Michaela’s hand hovered over the phone.
She should call Troy now, but she glanced at her watch.
It was late morning. She didn’t want to disturb his lunch hour.
Maybe it would be best to call him that afternoon.
Although the date was Thursday, she had no idea about his schedule.
Michaela knew she was making excuses. She’d matched him with a beautiful, accomplished woman. And yet… the thought of Troy in the arms of a gorgeous woman like Alice made her a little crazy. She didn’t want to analyze why.
Because she couldn’t be jealous. She wouldn’t be jealous.
But perhaps she needed a caffeine fix before she tackled the phone call. Yes, that was the ticket. She left her office to head to her favorite coffee place, Santa Cruz 9.
Coffee was her Dutch courage. Where did that saying come from? Why did only the Dutch have courage?
The order line was long. The coffeehouse didn’t have an order-ahead feature like the big chains, but she liked to shop and eat local.
And Santa Cruz 9 was as local as you could get.
She spent the time in line scrolling through her email, deleting spam—she never sent spam to a separate folder, to ensure she’d never miss anything.
She’d started on her subscription emails, deciding which she would save for later and which she would delete, when she had a faint olfactory fantasy.
As though she could smell Troy Harrington’s attractive male scent.
It triggered a memory of how his touch felt on her elbow, her arm, her back as he guided her.
How, after she’d had more than one glass of champagne at the gallery on Saturday, she’d begun to imagine how it would feel if he touched her in other places.
Her skin seemed to heat, and her body seemed to melt.
Then his voice burrowed deep inside her. “Imagine meeting you here.”
And there he was. The fantasy man of only moments before. And, if she were honest, the fantasy man filling her dreams lately.
But she kept her composure. “What a coincidence.” Was it? Or had she come here because she’d hoped to see him?
She held up a finger as the barista asked for her order. Troy actually seemed to wait patiently. When she was done, he said politely, “I haven’t finished my coffee yet. Will you join me?”
Maybe this was karma. She’d found all sorts of excuses not to call him right away, and here he was. She had to tell him about the date. Was it better to talk face-to-face? Grrr. Stop overthinking, Michaela . “That would be nice.”
Yet it felt as though a swarm of bees were buzzing in her belly. She was a professional, however, and didn’t show him even a scintilla of emotion.
Sitting across from him with his coffee cup on the table between them, she took the plunge. She pasted a smile on her face she hoped didn’t look fake. “I found the perfect date for you.”
He raised a very skeptical eyebrow. “Perfect? Really?”
He didn’t want to be matched. He probably didn’t care that much about forfeiting the bet. Of course his answer would be no.
Why did that make her happy?
She held up a hand. “Before you say no, let me tell you about her.”
Instead of addressing the date, he asked, “Have you matched Gabby?”
That threw her off track, but she answered him. “I haven’t found the right match for her yet.”
He eyed her for a long moment. “But you managed to find the right match for me?”
She maintained her courage. “Yes, I have.” Even if she hated the whole idea of it. “Alice Fletcher is beautiful. She’s accomplished. She’s intelligent. She runs a nonprofit.”
“Does she pay herself an exorbitant salary?”
“Absolutely not. Most of the money goes to funding her charity programs,” she said defensively. Because this was her client .
She didn’t even get up when she heard her name called. Because she had to say this, even if she didn’t feel it. “I won’t take no for an answer. You agreed.”
He would say no despite that. Her heart pounded in anticipation.
But he smiled. If she hadn’t already been seated, she would have flopped into a chair, because that smile was enough to make her knees weak.
“Beautiful and accomplished? And she gives most of the donations she receives to her programs?” His brilliant blue eyes seemed to sparkle.
Was that different than a twinkle? And did either a sparkle or a twinkle mean anything?
And then he floored her. “Sure, I’ll do it.
Did you and the lady discuss an evening for the date? ”
For a moment, she couldn’t address the question.
He’d shocked her to the very pit of her stomach, letting loose all those buzzing bees in a swirling, sickening swarm.
He was supposed to say no and forfeit. Yet here he was, agreeing to the date.
All she could say was, “I heard my coffee called. I’ll be right back. ”
But he stood politely. “I’ll get it for you.”
Her mind kept going over it and over it. He was supposed to say no. But he’d said yes. What was she supposed to do now?
When he returned with her coffee, there was only one thing she could do: set up the freaking date. “She’s available Thursday night.”
He hadn’t even asked to see a picture of Alice. He’d simply taken Michaela’s word for it. And he wanted the woman for her beauty, her intelligence, and her philanthropy.
Her mouth kept working even while her brain seemed to be imploding. “Where would you like to go?”
His eyes twinkled. It didn’t matter about the difference between a twinkle and a sparkle. That look meant he was interested.
“How about the Grand Epoque in Saratoga?”
She picked her jaw up off the floor, hoping she hadn’t broken it.
The Grand Epoque was the most expensive restaurant in the South Bay.
Only San Francisco had anything to rival it.
They had a prix fixe menu with four courses for over five hundred dollars.
The champagne and cocktails would be on top of that.
But he was a billionaire. And he obviously wanted to impress Alice.
And Michaela was a professional, so she did her job. “I can make a reservation for you. Will eight o’clock be all right?”
“Great.” He gave her that bone-melting smile again. It was like a sunbeam over his whole face, making it shine like a god from Olympus. The man was too good-looking.
And he was going on a date with Alice Fletcher.
“I’ll have Alice meet you there. I find that’s best on a first date. Leave your name with the restaurant’s host so they can escort her right to you.” She wagged a finger at him, as if that was going to help her get control of herself. “Don’t be late,” she said in a singsong voice.
She sounded like an idiot.
But, oh my God, she was jealous .
Then, with a smile and the strongest of wills, she headed out with her coffee and managed not to run.