9781631050275TheirPerfectMatchMarshNC Page 2

  “It happens, Mr. Bishop. Not here, of course,” she hastened to add.

  “I just have one more question. How many people would have access to my account? You ask for some pretty personal stuff on this application form. I wouldn’t want my vital statistics…or my social security number…to become office gossip.”

  “No need to worry about that. Lovelines consists only of me, Brenda Taylor, and Todd Matthews, our programmer. The information you give us is scanned directly into the system, and from there it can be accessed only from the computer right here in my office. No one will ever read it, not even the women it selects as matches for you. I handle all that sort of detail.”

  “All right, then. I’m ready to try.” With a nod, Zane pulled his wallet from inside his leather jacket and handed her his credit card. Gold, she noticed. Zane Bishop had done well for himself in his seafaring career.

  “Let me just step into the next room and have Brenda process this. I’ll be back momentarily with your receipt. Meanwhile, you can start filling out the background check form.”

  Discreetly, she slipped into the reception area and closed her office door behind her.

  Brenda had clearly been waiting impatiently for her to emerge. “Wow!” she whispered, faking a swoon. “I think that guy materialized out of a dream I had once—a real steamy dream, if you know what I mean. I sure hope he didn’t sign with us!”

  Molly closed her hand around Zane’s credit card to shield it from Brenda’s view. “What? Why not?”

  Brenda stared as if Molly had just asked the most ridiculous question in the history of human discourse. “Because, Molly! If he’s business, that would make him off-limits.”

  “Aha. Does Decker know you ogle the men who walk in here?”

  “Not for me, silly.” Reaching into her desk, Brenda snapped open her compact and did a quick check of her hair and makeup. “Decker’s more than enough man for me. I meant for you, Mol.”

  “For me! Now you’re the one being silly.”

  “Why? He’s gorgeous and he’s single, isn’t he? And he’s here because he wants a girlfriend.”

  “Please, Brenda. He might hear you. Now run this credit card and prepare Mr. Bishop’s receipt, please. The usual fifty percent deposit.”

  Brenda didn’t seem in the least chastised. Instead, she examined the card with obvious interest, turning it back and forth so that the holographic image embedded on its face shimmered in the fluorescent light. “Mmm, the gentleman is well-to-do as well as gorgeous.”

  “Brenda, please. He’s a client, and as such he deserves courteous, respectful, and above all, discreet treatment. Now I’d like this conversation to end, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind. But I’m entitled to my opinion that he’s only the finest male specimen ever to walk through this office—with the exception of my Decker, of course.” With a shrug, Brenda turned back to her computer and completed the requested transaction in less than five minutes. She handed Molly the card along with the receipt that sputtered from her desktop printer. “Large credit line, too. You’re a fool if you fix him up with anyone but yourself, Molly.”

  Molly grabbed the items in an uncharacteristically stiff gesture. “Like you said, you’re entitled to your opinion. Just like I’m entitled not to respond to it.”

  She slipped back into her office and found Zane on his feet, his right hand tracing a pattern along the edge of her desk. He’d finished the background-check form and centered it neatly on her blotter.

  “Here’s your receipt, Mr. Bishop,” she said, holding it out to him. “I hope you’ll find everything you’re looking for in Lovelines, and more.”

  “I hope so, too. I admit that the idea of a dating service put me off at first, but I’ve always been adventurous.” He returned his gold card to his wallet and folded the receipt into a rectangle without even glancing at it. “What about you, Miss Grayson? Do you consider yourself the daring type?”

  Molly laughed—a bit uneasily. “Most people who know me would say no.”

  “I didn’t ask what other people think.” His shrewd, silvery-blue eyes locked on hers. “I wanted to know your opinion.”

  “Then I guess my lack of a response answers your question.”

  Zane tucked the folded receipt deep inside his leather jacket. “Let me be honest about one thing, Miss Grayson. I don’t believe in computers hooking people up. What I do believe in is human intuition. Mine tells me that you know exactly what you’re doing here. And yours should tell you that it’s not your computer I’m hiring.”

  “I…I do realize that.” He stared at her so long, and so intently, she compulsively clutched at the sleeves of her blazer.

  “I’m glad.” Stepping forward, Zane Bishop extended his hand. The warm pressure of his skin against hers suggested both the roughness of the storm-swept sea and the sensual caress of balmy trade winds. Yes, she could definitely picture Zane against the backdrop of some exotic harbor, the sun on his face and the salty spray misting his hair. “I look forward to our little adventure.”

  Molly watched his broad shoulders fill the doorway as his purposeful gait carried him out of her office and finally out of sight. No doubt his easy, yet self-assured manner resulted from his military training…or were the Merchant Marines properly classed as paramilitary? Either way, he was a good advertisement for the benefits of a seafaring career. No doubt that sort of nomadic and intensely physical lifestyle suited his carefree nature to perfection.

  Molly had to smile at the irony of the situation. How many times had she bemoaned the fact so few people today believed in romance and commitment the way she did, even if the prospect had so far eluded her, and probably would continue to? Now a gorgeous man was telling her he shared exactly those values—and had asked her to find him another woman who felt the same!

  Soon enough, he would be matched, married, and settled, thanks to Lovelines—and her.

  She didn’t dare speculate why that prospect distressed her so much.

  * * * *

  Zane had barely reached the sidewalk when his cell phone trilled. He didn’t need to wait for the caller to identify himself.

  “I told you to wait until I buzzed you,” he barked, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one had followed him out of the building that housed the Lovelines office. “Do you want one of them to overhear us?”

  Alaric didn’t bother with a conventional greeting. Nothing new there. His younger half-brother’s voice, however, was uncharacteristically nervous. “So…you did what I asked you to?”

  “I signed up for a lifelong commitment engineered by Lovelines, yes. I have to admit, though, that it really didn’t seem like your kind of place, Alaric. There were silk flowers and a stack of women’s magazines beside the water cooler, for crying out loud.”

  “You don’t have to rub it in,” Alaric growled. “I’ve already cursed my own foolishness enough.”

  “I didn’t say you were foolish to sign up. I didn’t even say I disapproved. I only pointed out that I was surprised. Not that I’m surprised you’d have trouble finding a relationship. After all, what normal woman would stand for taking second place to your Italian leather briefcase?”

  “Well, not half as surprised as my business associates would be if I went public with this thing. Zane, that woman drained my savings account! The credit card bills are still coming in! And that’s not even counting what she tried to do to my mutual funds! If my accountant hadn’t called me in time—”

  “Alaric, I know. We went over all this at your office, remember? And I used the gold card, just like you told me. If there’s any unauthorized movement on that account, we’ll know about it.”

  “Good. That’s good. That’s why I got in touch with you, Zane. Not just because you’re…‘family’ but because you’re discreet.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that.”

  Alaric sighed. “And I appreciate it, believe me. It’s good to have at least one person I can trust, in
spite of what may have happened in the past.”

  “I’m not the sort of man who lives in the past. I think you know that.”

  “I do know. And again, I’m grateful, Zane.”

  Zane snorted. Alaric didn’t often address him by his first name…or acknowledge his existence at all, for that matter.

  His silence had the desired effect. Alaric sounded even more panicky this time. “You are going to help me, aren’t you, Zane? I mean, I’m really counting on you here.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he announced when he was ready. “On two conditions.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Glad to hear it. The first is that I call the shots, not you. You might think I ought to dress up and play Alaric Scott, but I have my own techniques and I’ll expect you to respect that.” Zane waited until Alaric slowly mumbled his agreement. “The second is that you live with my findings. If this is just some botched-up theory of yours, and I prove that Molly Grayson had nothing to do with it, you back off and look in some other direction.”

  “Why would I disagree? Since you claim to know what you’re doing, I have no cause to doubt you.”

  Zane heard the unspoken “but” in that sentence. “You’re not allowed to doubt me. That’s my point. Do we have a deal?”

  Alaric was predictably slow to agree, but he came around all the same. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Okay, then.” Relieved to end the conversation, Zane pressed the disconnect button and stuffed the phone back in his leather jacket.

  Still, it did seem as though his brother had stumbled onto something shady. The questionnaire he’d filled out could easily provide anyone at Lovelines with enough information to do real damage. For all he knew, Alaric wasn’t the only client who’d been ripped off.

  In a way, he felt sorry for his brother. Not because of the stolen money—Zane was confident they’d get most of that back, and Alaric had plenty more. He also had the respectability—not to mention the family fortune—that would never be Zane’s. Still, Alaric was so busy getting ahead that he never took time to enjoy the simple things in life, like a cold beer at a waterfront bar, a good book—or a beautiful woman. Like Molly Grayson, for example.

  Molly didn’t strike him as a con artist—if anything, he’d pegged her as the overly conscientious type, scrupulously honest even if it ended up hurting her—but on the other hand, who knew what people were secretly capable of?

  As far as Zane was concerned, the subject of Molly Grayson, and her possible wholesale fleecing of Alaric’s bank accounts, was more than a financial issue, or even a matter of family honor. Now that he’d met the woman in question, for reasons he couldn’t exactly define, the interest he’d taken in the case was distinctly—even urgently—personal.

  Chapter Two

  “I’ve been thinking,” Brenda announced late the next day. “Maybe we should use that new guy in an ad. You know, a sexy photograph in the newspaper, maybe even a TV spot. Those small stations don’t charge an arm and a leg.”

  “By new guy, I assume you’re referring to Mr. Bishop.” Molly stood at the copy machine, duplicating a sheaf of client questionnaires for her files. Zane’s wasn’t among them, since she’d run his off the day before, soon after he’d left the office. The originals had gone down the hall to Todd’s office so he could proceed with the necessary background and credit inquiries. All afternoon, Molly had resisted the urge to ask about the results, or to think about Zane Bishop at all. Now, thanks to Brenda, she was right back where she’d started.

  “See? You knew right away who I was talking about. Admit it, Mol, I’m onto something here.”

  “I knew who you were talking about because our only other new client was Miss Caldwell. I’m running off her forms right now.”

  “Don’t play clueless with me. You’re always saying we need to build a bigger client base. If we used Zane as a model, the women would flock to us like seagulls to a fast food joint.”

  “That’s not quite the image I want to cultivate for Lovelines,” Molly replied patiently. “And let’s hold off on a screen test until Todd’s checked Mr. Bishop’s references. He could be an escaped felon, for all we know.”

  “Him? Lighten up, Mol. Besides, there’s only one way to really check him out, and that’s to go out with him yourself. All you have to do is tell him it’s a standard part of the interview process. What do you have to lose?”

  “Nothing except my integrity.” Molly gathered her copies together and slammed down the copier lid. “Because it’s not a standard part of the interview process, and as far as I’m concerned it never should be. Dating services have enough of an image problem already.”

  “That’s because no one has a sense of humor these days. You’re a perfect example, if you don’t mind my saying so. Romance is supposed to be fun, exciting. But the way you talk, we might as well be helping people complete their stamp collections. You and Todd have made the whole thing so mechanical. Mutual interests and shared values are great, but where’s the passion? How come there’s no room for the kind of sparks I saw flying between you and Zane Bishop when he walked out of here yesterday?”

  “You’re wrong.” Molly felt a burst of heat in her cheeks. “Our methods are efficient and professional, and our clients appreciate that kind of stability. As for sparks with Mr. Bishop—well, you were obviously seeing something you wanted to see. All I sensed was simple professional respect on both sides.”

  “What I want to know is, what good’s a relationship if your mind—not to mention other, more sensitive parts of your anatomy—go numb from boredom before the honeymoon’s over? Admit it, Molly. Stable and conservative might work great in the stock market, but in the bedroom, you’ll be happier if you take a chance.”

  “I’m sorry, Brenda, but I don’t agree at all. That kind of excitement feels great until you end up with a broken heart. I want to do better than that for our clients. Part of what they pay us for is protection—not just in a physical sense, but an emotional one, too. Most of them come here because they’ve been burned by just the kind of whirlwind affair you’re describing.”

  “Okay, whatever.” Brenda shrugged. “All I know is that in my opinion, you need to enjoy your life more. Even Todd thinks so.”

  “I’d prefer that you and Todd didn’t discuss my social arrangements. And for the record, I enjoy my life just fine, thanks.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.” Molly forced a smile and decided that changing the subject was her best option. She didn’t want Brenda to notice how much that last remark had stung. Todd had even less right than Brenda to comment on her personal life. “So what are you and Decker doing tonight? Anything special?”

  As she expected, Brenda’s face lit up. “We’re going out for pizza, then to a movie.”

  “Not another gory horror flick, I hope. You complained about the last one for a week.”

  “I admit that Decker and I don’t have the same taste in movies,” she admitted. “But if he’s happy, I’m happy. Besides, the scary parts give me an excuse to cuddle up to him.”

  “Sounds like fun.” Tucking her copies under her arm, Molly took refuge in her office. She wasn’t sure which made her more uncomfortable—hearing her employees criticize her business sense or her personal life. And hearing about Brenda’s latest dream date with Joey Decker, the baby-faced delivery man for a nearby office supply store, was definitely more than she could deal with right now.

  She’d never been able to figure out what Brenda saw in Decker, as he preferred to be called. In a sense, they were Lovelines’ first match, having met when Decker showed up to install their laser printers the very day they’d opened for business. Though Brenda seemed happy enough, their relationship certainly wasn’t the sort Molly would have chosen for herself. When—or maybe “if” would be more realistic—she found a man to date, she didn’t intend to endure inane monster movies or other activities she hated just to keep him happy. Hopefully, he’d be willing to share in
things that interested her too.

  But right now she had to focus on finding a mate for Janet Caldwell, not herself. With a smile, she remembered the genuine emotion in the woman’s voice as she rose to leave Molly’s office earlier that day. Her gratitude reminded Molly why she’d started Lovelines in the first place. Maybe she’d given up on finding her own perfect relationship, but there were plenty of other singles out there just waiting to benefit from her expertise. Too many people out there had resigned themselves to a loveless, even hopeless existence, when all they needed was someone with a little vision—and access to some twenty-first century technology—to turn their lives around.

  Of course, when she thought about Miss Caldwell sitting across from her, Molly couldn’t help recalling the way Zane Bishop’s large, powerful body had filled the same seat a day earlier, the way his solemn gray eyes had met hers across the desk. Much as she hated to admit it, she couldn’t argue with Brenda on one point. Lovelines had pulled in some attractive male prospects, but none of them came close to Zane Bishop in terms of sheer sex appeal. If anything, he seemed a little too vibrant for most of the women in her databank.

  Molly dropped the new application into her outbox and glanced at the clock, glad it was almost time to head home. She was trying to decide between takeout Chinese or Indian for supper when she heard someone tap on her office door.

  “Hey, Molly.” She looked up to find Todd Matthews leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his mouth tilted in a grin. He’d rolled up his shirt sleeves to expose his firm muscles, which looked even bigger as his dark skin strained against the white fabric. She’d once found the strength of his arms both sexy and comforting. The memory embarrassed her now.

  “Oh—Todd.”

  “You were expecting someone else?”

  “No. In fact I’m glad you’re here.” Molly shook her head. For one crazy second, she’d actually expected—or was hoped a more accurate word?—to see Zane Bishop standing there. “I’m just finishing up Janet Caldwell’s application. You can start the credit and reference check first thing Monday. I don’t think she’ll present any problems.”