Chapter 1 #2
Oh yes, she’d noticed him. But that was as far as it went.
She had her business and didn’t date a lot—okay, she hadn’t been on a date in a year.
Michaela claimed it was because she was so busy with work, but her mom refuted that, saying it was because Michaela had very high standards.
But the truth was, she’d kissed too many frogs.
She was far better at matching billionaires than she’d ever been at matching herself.
She had lousy taste in men—no, horrendous taste in men.
She could matchmake the world, but she couldn’t matchmake herself. It was the matchmaker’s curse.
But this man made her heart flutter. From the moment he’d walked into her office, she’d found herself almost tongue-tied.
Still, he was a billionaire. And he wanted her to match his sister, because of a bet, no less. Crazy.
It wasn’t that billionaires were a bad lot. Those she’d worked with were quite nice. She got rid of the creepy ones who came to her ASAP. But though she worked with billionaires, she wasn’t one of them. She would never fit in with that set.
And she’d never match herself with one.
It reminded her of the Taylor Swift song, “But Daddy, I Love Him,” about a simple girl rising too high and falling for the wrong boy.
For her, though, it was more that she wanted a man who’d worked his way up like she had.
One who didn’t have everything handed to him.
Someone with whom she would have something in common.
She could never have anything in common with a man like Troy Harrington, even if he was sinfully sexy.
Her answer was emphatic. “No, it’s not going to work.”
She didn’t throw him out of her office, but the desire to was in her adamant tone.
But he didn’t move from that elegant slouch on her sofa, eyeing her for a long moment before he said, “All right, I get it. You won’t do it unless my sister gives you consent.
” He folded his arms over his impressive chest, which she’d been trying to ignore.
“So come to this gig we have going on down in Carmel this Saturday. It’s a gallery showing for my brother’s best friend.
Gareth Tate—an amazing painter. And you can meet Gabby, along with the rest of the family and all the Mavericks. ”
The Mavericks? She’d heard of them. Everyone in the San Francisco Bay Area—and across the country, even the world—had heard of them. They were all as rich as Croesus. And he wanted her to mingle with them?
Did she even want this commission? It sounded squirrely. If things went bad, it could ruin her spotless reputation as a matchmaker. She started again. “I don’t think?—”
Leaning forward, he cut her off. “I’d like you to come. If you talk to Gabby and you still don’t want to do it, then fine. But at least give us a chance.”
Us? Him and his sister? The whole family? The Mavericks?
Should she do this? It could be a challenge, and she liked challenges. If she got his sister’s consent, then everything would be aboveboard. Could it be that bad? Maybe it would even open doors for her.
But she had a feeling that if she said yes, she’d be taking on far more than she bargained for.
Troy didn’t believe Gabby would ever agree. She wanted to win the bet as much as he did—the Harringtons were a competitive lot, even when it came to love. But if Michaela came on Saturday, he’d get to see her again. And suddenly that seemed like much more fun than the bet.
He’d thought she was still on the fence until she asked, “Can I bring a guest?”
He was quick to answer, “Sure.”
Though he could have asked who she would bring—a boyfriend, God forbid?—it was more of a challenge if he didn’t know.
After only a moment’s hesitation, she said, “All right. Thank you, I’d like to come.”
His heart seemed to soar, which was an odd sensation—he didn’t think his heart had soared over a woman since high school. And maybe not even then, because he’d been too engrossed in championship diving.
Then it dropped like a stone when she added, “But only to get your sister’s consent. And there are no guarantees on whether she’ll fall in love.”
Dirk, however, had told him that Michaela Killian had a money-back guarantee. Troy had a feeling Gabby would be such a hard case he’d never have to spend a dime.
At least not on matchmaking. But he sure as heck wouldn’t mind spending time with the beautiful Michaela Killian.
“Can you believe he wants me to matchmake for his sister so he can win some bet about who will fall in love first?” Michaela emphasized the two most horrid ideas in the whole debacle with Troy Harrington.
Then she took the first bite of the lasagna her mother had made for dinner. The flavors burst on her tongue, so good she was tempted to forget her annoyance with the man. Her mom made the best comfort food.
A year after she’d bought the townhome where they both lived, they’d remodeled the kitchen, painting it a cheery yellow and adding a double oven.
The room was large enough for a table and chairs, which was good because there was no formal dining room, and no formal living room either.
Not that the two of them needed it, since the large family room was more than adequate.
The downstairs den played double duty as a home office for Michaela and a craft and sewing room for her mother.
With two primary suites upstairs, each had her own full bathroom.
Michaela had only two requirements when buying the house three years ago: a two-car garage so they could both park inside, and a bathtub. So many homes these days had only showers, but Michaela’s biggest luxury was a bath. As soon as she’d seen the soaker tub in one of the bathrooms, she was sold.
Their home might not be as huge as anything Troy Harrington had in the Los Gatos hills, but it was perfect for the two of them.
Oooh, that man. He was too annoying to forget. “Can you imagine how arrogant the man is to want a matchmaker help him win a bet? A million dollars , for goodness’ sake. The loser will have to pay that amount to a charity. It’s crazy.” She allowed herself one piece of the delectable garlic bread.
“But if it’s for charity, isn’t that good?” Her mother smiled as if she didn’t get how annoying and arrogant that Harrington man was.
Her mother was a beauty, inside and out, and she was Michaela’s best friend.
Flo Killian had Michaela when she was very young, not even out of high school, and now she was in the prime of her life at fifty years old.
She and Michaela shared the same dark, thick, wavy hair, but Flo kept hers cut fairly short, to give it more bounce, she said.
The few silvery strands only enhanced her beauty.
Michaela had always hoped her mother would fall in love again.
Her father had left when Michaela was barely a toddler, and Flo spent her life raising her.
Michaela made it her mission to give back all her mother had given to her, buying the townhouse and making sure her mom no longer had to work.
Not unless she wanted to. Flo was a vibrant woman, with the same green eyes as Michaela’s, though her mother’s were always full of understanding and warmth.
If Flo fell in love, what would Michaela do without her best friend?
The thought was sobering, yet it didn’t stop her wanting her mom to find a wonderful man to fill her later-in-life days with joy.
And yet Flo adamantly refused to let Michaela matchmake for her.
After Michaela’s dad left, her mother had never let herself fall in love again.
Not in thirty years. Michaela could only hope love would grow organically for her someday. Her mother deserved happiness.
Flo patted her hand. “I know what you mean about Troy Harrington being arrogant and that he’s doing this for all the wrong reasons.” She winked. “But sometimes good things happen when you least expect them. What if you make a match for his sister and she lives happily ever after?”
Michaela wanted to roll her eyes. Her mom loved her happily-ever-afters, even if she refused to let Michaela find one for her.
Flo loved romantic movies, and she’d instilled that love in Michaela.
They often binge-watched their favorite romances on weekends after a hike or a bike ride during the day.
They loved the outdoors as much as romance movies or a good read.
“So, you going to refuse to take him on as a client?” Flo asked.
Michaela stabbed a cherry tomato in her salad, but before putting it in her mouth, she said, “I told him I wouldn’t do it unless I talked to his sister first and she agreed. I simply can’t do it without her consent.”
“Oh, that was a brilliant move, sweetheart. Did he agree?”
For the first time, Michaela felt almost triumphant. “He did. He’s going to arrange a meeting with his sister. His brother’s friend is having a gallery showing on Saturday down in Carmel. Since his sister will be there, Troy has invited me down to make the introduction.”
Her mother waggled her eyebrows. “So he asked you out.”
Michaela gave her a stern look. “Don’t start. This isn’t a date. It’s a business deal. And he said I could bring a guest.” Her voice rose with a smug tone. “You can be my plus-one.”
Flo put her hand to her chest. She had a beautiful figure, as well as a beautiful smile. Why hadn’t some wonderful man snapped her up?
“I’d love to go.” Her green eyes shone like emeralds. “This could be so much fun, my darling. We’ll get all gussied up.” Her mind was already running away with plans. “I’ll make us new outfits. Something spectacular.”
After Michaela’s father left them, her mother had gone to work to support them.
Living in Modesto, things had been hard for Flo.
Her family had pretty much disowned her for getting pregnant and also for picking a deadbeat, as they’d called Michaela’s father—which turned out to be true.
Even Flo’s friends made sure she never forgot she’d made a huge mistake.
But Flo had struggled on, working as a seamstress for a dry cleaner, and also taking in alterations on her own time.
The ladies who came to Flo recognized her potential, and she began making bespoke clothing for them.
But that meant she worked for the dry cleaner during the day, then on the contract clothing after supper, often sitting at her sewing machine long into the night.
When Michaela was old enough, she’d helped out as best she could, but her mother’s life hadn’t been easy.
Which was why, as soon as Michaela started earning enough money, she’d done her best to make sure Flo never had to strain her eyes long into the night or work a fifteen-hour day. She gave back to her for everything Flo had sacrificed for her.
Her mom clapped her hands excitedly. “Shall we go highly formal or cocktail dresses? Or loungewear?”
Flo’s excitement grabbed hold of Michaela, and they spent the rest of dinner deciding on the new outfits her mother was dying to make.
Sewing was her mother’s happy place, despite all the years she’d had to do it as work.
All Michaela wanted was for Flo to be happy, without a care in the world.
If she had to see the annoying and arrogant Troy Harrington in order to give her mom a lovely evening out, she’d do it.
A horrifying thought struck her. What if his sister consented to be matched? Then how often would she be forced to see Troy?
Even as Michaela’s blood seemed to boil with the thought, a traitorous thrill shot through her at how much she might enjoy it.