Chapter 7
Where is Lark?
Squinting without her glasses, Marissa scanned the crowd. Was that her friend over there near the bar?
She started in that direction, but someone bumped her from behind.
A laughing man with ebony skin glanced over his shoulder at her. “Oops. Sorry.” The guy let his gaze drift over her before allowing himself to be tugged away by his female companion.
His fleeting interest gave her a boost of confidence. Maybe she didn’t look too bad after all.
The energy at NV Lounge encouraged patrons to relax after a long day of battling bosses and fighting the drain of Atlanta traffic. And there were a lot of good-looking people dressed to impress. She felt comfortable that she fit in, but she needed to find Lark. She should have never listened to her friend and left her glasses in the car.
Nope, that was not her at the bar. The woman was too thick.
So where the heck was she?
Marissa’s head swiveled to the left.
“What a surprise to see you here.”
A low but familiar accented voice whispered the words in her right ear, and her heart slammed against her ribs. With a quick turn, Marissa bumped gazes with none other than Bruno Santana.
“Mr. Santana.” His name came out in an annoyingly breathless voice.
Could be the darkness of the venue, but he seemed extra tall and his shoulders extra broad, wide enough to rival Atlas in carrying the world.
“Bruno,” he corrected. His gray eyes popped in amusement against the backdrop of his olive skin.
“That’s right—Bruno. Forgive me.”
They stood close together, much closer than they did at the office. She caught a whiff of his scent again—something refreshingly citrus blended with a hint of musk that pleased her nose.
“So, Marissa, you decided to take a break from saving the world, one relationship at a time?” Bruno asked.
What was it about the way he looked at her, as if they were the only people in this entire place? Men like him were the kind who had women making excuses for bad behavior. She could well imagine the chaos Bruno created in the lives of the women he had slept with over the years.
“I’m meeting a friend for drinks, but I can’t find her. I called before I came in here, but the call went to voicemail. I left a message and sent a text, but she probably can’t hear the alerts in this loud place.” Marissa cast her eyes around the open space in a futile search for Lark.
“Girls’ night out?” Bruno asked.
“Something like that. And you?”
Another bump from behind, and she fell into Bruno, who caught her around the waist.
“Oops, sorry, miss.” This time the laughter came from two women about her age, snaking their way through the crowd.
Marissa suddenly realized her hands were splayed on Bruno’s rock-hard chest. Daaaamn.
Against her will, her fingers trailed down his torso, encountering firm abs before she realized what she was doing and snatched away her hands.
“Excuse me.” She stepped back, heart hammering in a crazy, irregular pattern.
“Not a problem,” he said smoothly, slipping his warm hands from her waist.
Like her, his hands had lingered longer than necessary, and the warmth of his touch remained, having seeped through the silk blouse to her skin underneath.
Bruno bent his head so he didn’t have to yell. “My future brother-in-law owns this place. I’m here to be supportive.”
The closer proximity meant she inhaled more of his intoxicating scent and the faint, malty aroma of beer with a hint of zesty citrus on his breath. It wasn’t unpleasant, and warmth coursed through her.
She gripped her purse on her shoulder to hide her trembling fingers. “I thought maybe you were wife shopping,” she said, with an attempt at humor.
“You’re taking care of that for me, no?”
He flashed his pearly whites, and her heart flipped like a gymnast. He seemed different tonight. Friendlier and dare she say… a little charming.
Marissa quickly averted her eyes. Pull yourself together.
In all the years she’d worked at Executive Match, no man had ever seriously tempted her—until now. After only two meetings, Bruno’s gravitational pull was strong and relentlessly challenged her professional integrity.
“I am.”
“Have you started the search for my future wife already, or am I expecting too much too soon?” he asked.
His breath brushed the shell of her ear, and she felt the sensation like a stroke between her thighs. Bruno was way too close. All up in her personal space. She wanted to put distance between them, but in their particular spot there wasn’t much room to move, so she was stuck.
“I started a preliminary search, but as I mentioned at the office, we have to complete your background check first, which our people are currently working on. Once that’s done, I’ll narrow down the options for you and pull together candidates for your first mixer.”
She didn’t mention she had begun her own research and fallen down a rabbit hole of magazine articles and interviews about him on YouTube. He was a charismatic interviewee, smiling often and making a couple of the interviewers blush with his gentle teasing.
Most interesting, he’d earned a few James Beard awards and nineteen Michelin stars at his restaurants over the years. His most recent was three stars, the highest award for exceptional cuisine.
“No rush, Marissa. I was simply inquiring. Since you can’t find your friend, you should join me in the VIP section. You might have a better chance of finding her in this crowd from up there.” He pointed to an area above the dance floor.
“I think it’s better if I stay here,” Marissa said. Down here, she was safer.
“As you wish.” His gaze dipped to the neckline of her top. “You look very nice tonight, by the way. That color suits you.”
Their eyes connected, and Marissa became incredibly hot, her entire body burning as if she’d been dipped in a bucket of flames. Was he toying with her? He had to know his effect on women and was probably trying to crack her hardened shell.
“Thank you.”
At that moment, Lark squeezed through the crowd and grabbed her arm.
“There you are! I saw your text and texted back, and when you didn’t respond, I came looking for you.”
Wonderful. Bruno had stolen her attention, and she had missed her friend’s response.
Lark’s eyes shifted to Bruno, and Marissa saw the spark of interest that flared in their depths.
Lark, with her smooth brown skin and outgoing personality had confidence in spades. Men loved her adventurous spirit and outgoing personality. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if Bruno took a liking to her.
“This is Lark, a good friend of mine. This is Bruno, he’s...” Marissa didn’t know how to introduce him. Their confidentiality clause didn’t allow her to disclose the identity of clients.
“I’m one of her clients. She’s going to find me the woman of my dreams,” Bruno drawled.
Lark looped an arm around Marissa’s shoulders. “If anyone can find your soulmate, Marissa can. She’s the best matchmaker at Executive Match.”
“I know I’m in good hands. I will leave you ladies alone. Have a good night, Marissa. We’ll talk soon.”
They both watched Bruno disappear into the crowd.
Lark turned to her and stretched her eyes wide. “Oh my. He. Is. Hot. Maybe I should add my profile to your database so I can have a shot. What kind of woman is he looking for?”
“None of your business,” Marissa said, softening the words with a smile. “He’s the new client I told you about.”
“The chef?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he could probably get any woman he wants. Rich, hot, and he cooks? Lord have mercy, how is he not married already?”
“Who knows? He probably has a major character flaw.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure the women in your database will be willing to overlook it. Come on, our table is this way.”
Taking Marissa’s wrist, Lark led the way through the crowd to the other side of the lounge, where her three friends sat at two tables partially enclosed by a curtain.
Lark started the introductions with, “This is my friend, Marissa.” Then she proceeded to give the names of the other three women.
“She’s a matchmaker, and all her clients are wealthy,” Lark explained, taking an empty seat.
“Girl, sit next to me,” one of the women said, grabbing Marissa’s hand and pulling her onto the chair.
They all burst out laughing.
Since she didn’t drink, Marissa ordered a coke from one of the waitresses and joined the engaging conversation with the other women. One in particular she thought would be a good fit for a client, and if she wasn’t, one of the other matchmakers might have a potential match for her. She would make sure to give her a card before they parted ways at the end of the night.
As the evening wore on, her mind returned to the brief moments she spent with Bruno, and she rubbed her tingling ear—the one he had whispered in.
She half wished they did find something terrible in his background. Then he’d be out of her life for good.