Chapter 9
Marissa sat at the bar, writing notes in the leather-bound notepad she had brought with her. The women and Wanda had all left moments ago, leaving her alone with Bruno, who had stepped outside to make a call.
Hyperaware of him, she knew the moment he re-entered the room. No one else might have noticed, but she did. There was a subtle change in the air signaling she was no longer alone. That he had returned.
She glanced up from her notes and crossed one leg over the other. His eyes followed the movement, and once again her body heated at his attention. He’d put back on his jacket and came to stand beside her, resting an arm on the gleaming bar top.
“Have you decided which three you want to see again?” Marissa asked. The sooner she received his choices, the sooner she could escape his presence.
“I have. Casey for sure. I like her sense of humor, she’s a great conversationalist, and physically, she checks all my boxes.”
Marissa nodded and wrote on her notepad. No surprise there. She’d considered Casey at the top of the list. Good to know her tastes were aligned with his.
“Sasha was interesting. We both have a similar background, coming from other countries when we were children and moving to the States. We talked a bit about the culture shock we experienced when we moved to the U.S.”
“It’s good that you found something in common to talk about. She’s very smart. I don’t know if she mentioned that she works in biotechnology.”
“She did. She’s definitely a fascinating woman,” Bruno said.
Feeling good about the choices, Marissa continued writing. “Who else?”
“The last person is Deanne. She also has a great sense of humor, family-oriented, and smart.”
Marissa nodded. “She’s worked for CNN for years and is on the board of several companies in town. She’s the kind of woman who knows how to network.”
“Yes, she is. She also has a fantastic ass.” Bruno pointed at the paper. “You should write that down.”
Marissa shot him a look from the corner of her eye. “I know what to write, thanks.”
Bruno peered at the page, and Marissa hugged the notepad to her chest.
His eyes narrowed. “Why won’t you let me read what you wrote?”
“Because these are my thoughts, and they help me make decisions for later.” She never let clients read her notes, and she wasn’t about to start now.
“Did you write anything about me on your pad?”
“Don’t concern yourself with what I’ve written. Anything else you want to tell me?”
Bruno snatched the notepad from her hand. He moved so fast, all she could do was gasp.
He flipped to the front page. “Let’s see here…”
“Give that back!” Marissa hopped off the stool and reached for the notes, but he easily held them out of reach, stretching his hand across the bar and continuing to read.
“Oh, this is an interesting comment next to Casey’s name,” he murmured, arching an eyebrow. “‘What was so damn funny??’” He shot her a look. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”
Marissa rested a hand on her hip. “Can I have my book back, please?”
There was a lengthy pause as they battled each other with a staring contest. Amusement flickered in his gaze while she wanted to curl her fingers around his neck and squeeze.
“Please,” Marissa said between clenched teeth, hating herself for begging but knowing that he would not give in easily.
Slowly, Bruno lowered his arm, prolonging her torture as much as possible. She snatched the leather-bound book and stuffed it in her messenger bag.
“Why did you write that?” he asked, his accented voice all silky and smooth.
She let out a sigh. “If you must know, I thought she was exaggerating her laugh when the two of you were talking.”
“Maybe I’m just very humorous.”
“If you say so,” Marissa muttered, placing the cap on her pen. She would finish writing her notes at home, away from his probing eyes.
“You know, for a moment, I thought you might be jealous.”
Marissa let out a rude bark of laughter. “I’m not.”
Bruno studied her with his head angled a little to the side, his gaze deliberate.
“You have no reason to be. You look beautiful tonight.”
The words left his mouth like a whisper of desire, dripping with honey and leaving her breathless. Marissa couldn’t recall the last time anyone had called her beautiful and didn’t know what to say. Flustered by the compliment, she temporarily lost her train of thought and had to brush away the cobwebs that made thinking a struggle.
She wore a simple red dress with cap sleeves and matching red lipstick. Perhaps it was the color. She had always been told red was her color.
“Thank you,” was all she could muster in a low voice. “Do you always say whatever comes to your mind?”
He gave her an elegant shrug. “Not always, but most of the time.”
“Good to know you actually have guard rails in place,” she said sarcastically.
He chuckled, a deep resonant sound that rose from his chest and spilled across his lips. It was genuine and warm, the kind of laughter that made people feel welcomed, and the corners of her mouth tugged upward in response. She couldn’t stay mad at him when his whole persona was so… inviting. Charming. He was slowly chipping away at her first impression of him.
Bruno watched her closely. “Tell me something, what made you get started in matchmaking?”
“I needed a job,” Marissa answered honestly.
“That’s all?”
Zipping her bag, she nodded. “Pretty much. Executive Match was called Perfect Match back then, and they were desperate to fill the matchmaker position. I applied on a whim, thinking maybe my skills as a barista were transferrable. Turns out, they were. Working in sales, working with the public, providing customer service—all transferrable. I trained under the owner, and I’ve been there ever since. I thought I’d leave eventually. I mean, no one ever grows up thinking, ‘I want to be a matchmaker.’”
“What did you want to be as a child?” Bruno asked.
He seemed genuinely interested, and she found herself lowering her guard and opening up more than she usually did.
“A teacher.”
Bruno nodded slowly. “I could see that.”
“What does that mean?” Marissa demanded.
Laughing, he held up a hand to calm her temper. “You have to admit, the glasses, the bun—I see teacher. Or librarian. Not to mention, I think you get a kick out of telling people what to do.”
“I do, sorta,” Marissa admitted with a twist of her lips.
“I know. I observed you in action tonight, and you’re good, by the way. You make people feel at ease and comfortable. This was my first mixer, but after your coaching, I felt as if I had attended dozens before.”
“Well, I try,” Marissa said.
“You do an excellent job.”
They both fell silent, and the air throbbed and crackled around them. She should put distance between them but couldn’t make herself move.
“You were about to tell me why you never left after you took the job.” His voice was strangely husky.
“Oh, right.” Marissa straightened. “I fell in love with the work. Each successful match is like a hit of dopamine. I’m hooked. I don’t want to do anything else now. I certainly never enjoyed any other job as much as I do matchmaking.”
A smile touched his sensual mouth.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Marissa asked.
“Because your passion for your work is obvious. When you love what you do, your daily tasks do not feel like work, do they?”
“No, they don’t. Is that how cooking is for you?”
“Absolutely. I don’t cook much in my restaurants anymore, but I could never stop cooking, never stop feeding people and watching them moan and hum as they enjoy my food.”
“Do you miss cooking in restaurants?”
“Yes and no. I can cook anytime, for family and friends. Working in restaurants and opening my own were all exciting, but hard work. I loved it, mind you, but there were sacrifices.” His eyes clouded over. “I’m at a different stage of my life, and now I cook because I want to, not because I have to. I have people running my restaurants, which allows me to concentrate on other things—such as expanding my businesses in other ways. Through licensing deals, by investing in other restaurants, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Are you going to tell me who she is?” Marissa asked quietly.
His eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“The woman who broke your heart.”
The mild amusement that had been on his face during most of their conversation evaporated. “What makes you think a woman broke my heart?”
“I could tell from our first meeting something happened in your past, and a second ago there was a change in you when you said, ‘There were sacrifices.’ I saw the difference in your eyes.”
Bruno’s gaze dropped to his hand as he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “You’re very perceptive, Marissa. You are good at what you do.”
“One of the best,” she reminded him.
He didn’t speak again for long seconds, and she thought he’d end the conversation, but then he lifted his gaze to hers.
“Her name was Lorraine. We lived together for a time. We split more than ten years ago. She broke up with me.”
Marissa’s eyebrows shot skyward, which prompted a smile to Bruno’s lips.
“Believe me, no one was more surprised than I was. Her favorite words were ‘You work too much,’ and her final words to me were ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ She didn’t understand that I didn’t want to take the easy way out. I had been handed everything in my life. I wanted to earn my place as a chef, and that meant long hours and starting from the bottom, the way everyone else did.”
“It must have been difficult to hear that from someone you cared about. Your commitment to your craft is admirable, and it’s unfortunate she couldn’t see the value in your dedication. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. It’s not easy. I’m sorry that happened to you,” Marissa said quietly.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “No need to be sorry. I was angry for years, but I’m not anymore. I’ve had plenty of time to move past Lorraine and her… unhappiness with the pursuit of my dreams. She had a few choice words for me before she left, but I refused to walk away from the path I’d chosen.”
“You don’t do well with demands, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” he said in a hard tone. “One of the less than stellar traits I inherited from my father. When Lorraine left I put my nose to the grindstone and worked harder.”
“And now you’re one of the top chefs in the world.”
She wondered where Lorraine was now. Did she see his success and have regrets?
“Exactly. Something good came out of the breakup.” He tilted his head to the right. “You said you know what it’s like to lose someone you love. What’s your story?”
Marissa blew out a long breath and lifted her bag onto her shoulder. “That’s a tale for another day.”
“I hope you mean that,” Bruno said.
She realized she did. She wanted to tell him about Chet and how he’d broken her heart, but she wasn’t quite ready yet. Opening up to other people wasn’t easy for her, and sharing an episode so painful and intimate with Bruno felt premature.
“I will. One day,” she promised.
They walked out side by side into the main dining room. As they passed through the restaurant, winding through the tables, men and women turned their heads. Marissa didn’t think for one minute they were looking at her. They were looking at the man next to her, and she couldn’t blame them. He was over six feet, and God had seen fit to bless him with an unreasonable amount of good looks.
Outside, Bruno walked her to her car.
“I’ll reach out in a couple of days with a schedule for your dates,” Marissa said, placing her bag in the back seat of her white Camry.
“I look forward to hearing from you. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Marissa climbed behind the wheel and started the car. As she pulled away, she saw Bruno walk toward his Porsche in the side-view mirror.
A hollow feeling filled her chest. She wished she could spend more time in his company, but doing so wasn’t a good idea. She had enjoyed those moments alone with him, getting to see another side of the handsome bachelor.
She had enjoyed those moments too much.