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A prospect that held less and less appeal the more time he spent with Elise.
The dilemma ate at him, and if he didn’t see her again, he didn’t have to think about it. That’s why he didn’t call.
But Dax answered his phone, mentally preparing to spiel off a contract’s status or sales figures—pending the caller’s identification. “Wakefield.”
“It’s Elise Arundel.” The smooth syllables hit him in all the right places. “Do you have a few minutes?”
He should have called her. Elise had a sexy phone voice.
Grinning like a loon for who knew what reason, Dax settled back in his chair and put his feet out. “Depends on what for. If it’s lightning round two, yes.”
Elise’s chuckle was a little on the nervous side. “I’m afraid that’s not the reason for my call. Actually, I have good news on that front. More sessions aren’t required after all. I’ve got your match.”
Oh, wow. This thing had just become nauseatingly real.
“Already? That is good news,” Dax said heartily. It was good news. The best. He didn’t have to see Elise again, exactly as he wanted.
And a little voice inside was singing, Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“So,” Elise chimed in quickly, “I’m calling to set up your first meet with your match, Candace. She prefers to be called Candy, though.”
“Candy.” That was something you ate, not someone you dated, and sounded suspiciously like a name for a coed. “She’s legal, right?”
“You mean is she over the age of eighteen?” Elise’s withering tone put the grin back on his face. “What kind of matchmaker do you take me for? She’s twenty-eight and works as a paralegal for Browne and Morgan.”
“Just checking. What’s the drill? I’m supposed to call her and set up a date or something?”
“That’s up to you. I’ve emailed her picture to you, and I’ve sent yours to her. If you’re both agreeable to meeting, I’d be happy to coordinate or you can go it alone from here.”
Curiosity got the best of him and he shouldered the phone to his ear so he could click through his email. There it was—“Sender: Elise Arundel, Subject: Candace Waters.” He opened it and a picture of Candy popped onto the screen.
Holy hell. She was gorgeous. Like men-falling-over-themselves-to-get-her-a-drink gorgeous. Not at all what he was expecting. “Is she one of your makeover success stories?”
If so, Elise might have a bit more magic in her wand than he’d credited.
“Not everyone is in need of a makeover. Candy came to me as is.”
Nice. Not a gold digger then. He took a closer look. She was blonde-with-a-capital-B, wearing a wicked smile that promised she had the moves to back it up. He would have noticed her across the room in a heartbeat.
For the first time, he got an inkling that this whole deal might be legitimate. “She’ll do.”
Then he returned to planet earth. There was a much greater chance that Candy had something really wrong with her if she’d resorted to a matchmaker to find a date.
“I had a feeling you’d like her,” Elise said wryly. “She’s perfect for you.”
Because something was really wrong with him too?
Elise was obviously running around wielding her psychology degree like a blunt instrument. She’d probably come up with all kinds of bogus analyses about his inability to commit and his mama issues—bogus because he didn’t have a problem committing as long as the thing had Wakefield Media stamped on it. Females were a different story. He’d die before letting a woman down the way his mother had let down his father, and he’d never met someone worth making that kind of promise to.
No doubt Elise had warned Candy about what she’d gotten herself into. Maybe she’d given Candy hints about how to get under his skin. Elise certainly had figured out how to do that well enough. And of course Elise had a vested interest in making sure Candy made him happy. This woman he’d been matched with might even be a plant. Some actress Elise had paid to get him to fall in love with her.
That...schemer.
Thank God he never had to see Elise again. A paralegal sounded like a blessed reprieve from razor-sharp matchmakers with great legs.
“I’ll call her. Then I expect you’ll want a full report afterward, right?”
The line went dead silent.
“Still there, Elise?”
“Not a full report.”
“About whether she’s my soul mate. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
