If Ethan thought that Vlad leaving meant that he would get a breather, he had been dead wrong. The man was in high-stress mode trying to prepare everything to function like clockwork in his absence, and as a result, almost everyone in the main office was just as high strung as he was. Ethan, in particular, was bearing the brunt of his brother’s fabled work OCD.

It was still a good two weeks before Vladimir shipped out, and he issued a steady stream of orders from the top floor that never seemed to stop. It was like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for him to collapse from sheer exhaustion.

But they didn’t know Vladimir like Ethan did. He was inhuman.  And, as nerve-wracking as this entire process was, for Vlad, and for the company, it was necessary.

Their father had built Kensley enterprises from the ground up, innovated and spent his blood, sweat and tears to make it the multinational corporation that it was today. Vlad made it run like a navy aircraft carrier - ruthlessly efficient and ridiculously productive. Even with Jackson at the helm in his absence, when Vlad left, they would lose some of that momentum.

And the thought was, no doubt, driving Vladimir crazy.

Ethan did his best to support him, but spending time with Vlad had him on edge himself. He found himself working long hours on little sleep, and there came a day where he was pretty sure he was going to break something in his frustration.

He needed a woman.

Carmen was out of the question. She hadn’t thought very highly of his unwillingness to take her to the charity ball, and Ethan found himself wondering who might be able to satisfy his voracious need in her absence. There were other women, yes, but Carmen was particularly avid in her attentions - and with her stamina.

He reached into his pocket to grab his phone, frowning when, instead, he drew out a business card.

At the sight of it, he arched a brow in surprise.

Harper Jones

Discover Your Perfect Match

Call to reserve your consultation.

He realized, with no small amount of amusement, that he had grabbed his tuxedo jacket instead of his suit jacket - they were cut very similarly - and, under normal circumstances, he cared less about matching suit pieces than he did about how the cut of a jacket flattered his shoulders - and he adored this one.

But this...this was fucking hilarious. He hadn’t even thought of the damn card, or the woman who’d given it to him, since the charity ball - weeks ago.

Strangely enough, Ethan’s first impulse wasn’t to toss the card into the trash. He contemplated it for a long moment, reading over the number several times.

The card wasn’t cheap. He doubted that this woman was someone operating out of a shack in Chinatown. No, to draw clients like the one who had so politely rejected him at the ball, she had to have a reputation.

Ethan was in no way, shape, or form in the market for a wife. He had no current interest in marriage or settling down, but a compatible woman? Someone who could match his wit and his voracious appetite in bed...that could be interesting. At the very least, he was horny and choosy enough just to call the number for shits and giggles. At the very most, he could hang up if the situation sounded ridiculous. Ethan hesitated for a moment more before groping in his opposite pocket to find his phone. He entered the number before he could change his mind.

Ethan expected an automated voice that would explain the services to him and even allow him to set up an appointment, but, to his complete shock, after the phone rang three times, a very human voice answered the phone.

“Match Perfection, this his Harper Jones speaking. How may I help you today?” The voice was feminine and sultry, sweeping over him with shocking intensity. Ethan didn’t know if he had ever gotten aroused just by hearing a woman’s voice, but here he was.

“I... Hello.” It took a moment to regain his usual eloquence. “I was calling to get some information on the system you use to match potential clients with their...lovers.”

It was surreal that he was even starting this conversation - that he had even called the number.

“May I ask why you’re seeking this information? Is it for a media interview? A recommendation? A personal match?”

“Personal match,” Ethan responded quicker than even he had expected. “I wanted to make an appointment.”

“Ah, well.” A nominal amount of the frost in Harper Jones’ voice evaporated and she went on a bit more amicably, “In that case, I’ll need to get some information from you before we set up the first appointment.”

“Of course.” Why the hell was he so tongue-tied? Usually, Ethan was as glib as a singing canary but something about this odd conversation was throwing him off his groove. “I just...could you tell me a little more about the process first?”

“All the details of the matching process will be explained at the first appointment. Appointments are two hundred and fifty dollars and payable at the time of our first meeting.”

Two hundred and fifty dollars? It was almost enough to make Ethan drop the phone. Just to secure an appointment? This woman must think she was on par with deities. “Would you like to reserve an appointment Mister….?”

Though Ethan might not quite be himself, he was nowhere near stupid enough to use his actual name. The last thing he needed was to be headlining Entertainment Tonight in his quest to find ‘a loving wife.’ “Thompson,” He uttered the first title that came into his head. “Trevor Thompson.”

“Would you like to make an appointment, Mr. Thompson?”

It would be wise for him to hang up the phone. Ethan was the son of a billionaire and a millionaire in his own right but two hundred and fifty dollars down for something he was beyond skeptical of was a hefty asking price.

So why the hell did he find himself agreeing? “I would.”

“Wonderful.” Ethan expected to feel instant regret, but the only thought that ran through his mind was that the two hundred fifty dollars was worth it just to hear the sensual satisfaction in Harper Jones’ voice. “Well then, we’ll just get everything in order to begin a file for you, Mr. Thompson.”

What followed was, without a doubt, one of the most lengthy and strangest conversations he’d ever had. Harper Jones wanted what seemed like endless reams of information - everything from his profession and income to his shoe size and the name brands he liked. Ethan didn’t see the need to amend much of his information. Anything that would blatantly give away his identity, certainly, but, for the most part, he was absolutely truthful.

He did, after all, want ‘ideal results.’

After about ninety minutes - certainly longer than Ethan had ever spent on the phone in his entire life - Harper pronounced herself satisfied. “I think that’s everything I need to work with.” He could hear the sound of papers being stacked in the background. Ethan wouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest if the woman had written a fucking novel on him.

Or, at least, a novel on Trevor Thompson.

“I’ve set your appointment for three weeks from today, at three pm, at Le Boulangerie in Soho. Is that convenient for you?”

He’d have to leave work early that day, but with three weeks’ notice, Ethan hoped he’d be able to spring it. “Perfectly convenient.”

“Wonderful.” He could hear the smile in her voice, and it only made her sexier. “I’ll see you then.”

Ethan wasn’t sure what had just happened even ten minutes after he hung up the phone. Had he really, truly just made an appointment with a matchmaker? An honest to God matchmaker?

He had to be out of his mind. Remembering how flagrantly he’d laughed at the woman he met at the charity all for doing the exact same thing sobered him to the fact. While he’d been on the phone with Harper Jones, it was as if things happened automatically. Her low, reassuring, and somehow sensual tone had eased him into an appointment and through the entire interview process. Now, it was almost like waking up from a trance.

Ethan drew a hand heavily over his face, wondering what the hell had gotten into him. The call was supposed to have been for fun. He had no intention of giving a fake name, or an hour and a half long interview...and now he was locked into an actual appointment. One where Harper Jones would surely know who he really was the moment she laid eyes on him.

Then he hurried to reassure himself. Her discovering him was nothing to be terribly worried about. If he really wanted to cover his ass, he could have her sign a nondisclosure agreement before agreeing to work with her any further…

Ethan caught himself in the middle of that particularly insane thought. Any further?

He had gone from wanting a reasonably compatible lay to dropping almost three hundred dollars on an appointment with a woman who purported to know what he needed better than he himself. Not only that, but there was no immediate gratification forthcoming. Ethan found that he didn’t want to roll into bed with just any woman. He would find no satisfaction in it. What he wanted was an experience mind-numbing enough to wipe away the stress of days at his work-obsessed brother’s beck and call.

And now, he was going to wait, what? Three weeks? He had to be out of his ever-loving mind. If he was smart, he’d just count his foolishly spent money gone and do the work himself to find a worthy lay.

But Ethan had to admit that there was a part of him - a very small part - that was curious about what he had bought. If this Harper Jones was so great, what was there to say that she wouldn't find a woman that would blow his mind? It was possible, he supposed, if not at all probable.

With a groan, Ethan forced his mind back to other matters. It wasn’t his lunch break, which meant he had been neglecting his work for almost two hours. If Vlad found out he was fucking around on the clock, there would be hell to pay.

For now, there was little he could do save thrust himself back into his hectic workday, and hope he regained his senses in the next few weeks.

But, somehow, Ethan could never bring himself to call and cancel the appointment. Just the idea of having to hear the probable concern in Harper Jones’ voice when he told her Trevor Thompson had changed his mind was enough to keep the appointment.

Ethan was so conflicted about his upcoming foray that he even mentioned it to Vlad before he left work that day. Vladimir had warned him not to menace the poor woman. But how was Ethan supposed to menace her when he knew nothing about her?

While it was relatively easy to find information about Match Perfection online, and Harper Jones’ name came up more than a handful of times, Ethan couldn’t find a single picture of her. She was like a fucking ghost - and he supposed that was the way she wanted it. She probably believed it added to the allure of her services, or something ridiculous like that.

It was this matter that Ethan was contemplating as he walked the halls of the main office more than a week later. He was supposed to be running some ledgers up to his father in the CEO’s office, but he nearly ran into the man on his way to the elevator two floors down.

Jackson Kensley had used a cane since he broke his leg at the age of sixty, and he insisted that he needed it, but a collision with his six-foot-three, two-hundred-pound son hadn’t even seemed to stun him. “Ethan! My boy, you might want to come back and join the rest of us back on earth.”

That jogged Ethan back to the present, where he was faced by a strong, weathered face almost in line with his own. Jackson was eying him with no small amount of amusement - and when he was this close to Ethan, that wasn’t all the younger man noticed. His father seemed tired, the bags under his eyes darker than usual and his complexion slightly pale.

Ethan supposed that he shouldn't be surprised. Even though their father was still technically CEO, Vlad had a way of working everyone to the bone when he was worked up, and Jackson got caught up in it two. At close to seventy, he couldn’t quite keep up like his sons could.

“Sorry, Dad. Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“That much is obvious,” Jackson chuckled. “Why don’t you tell me what’s got your mind so caught up?”

Ethan’s first impulse was to shy away from the question. One of his least favorite things to do was to talk to his father about his romantic prospects. Jackson Kensley made it clearly known that he wanted all his sons to find good women and settle down - he believed in old-fashioned romance, love at first sight, that kind of deal. Things that, in Ethan’s opinion, belonged within the pages of smutty romance novels.

To his surprise, however, he found himself telling the truth. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Crazy?” Jackson arched a brow in skepticism. “Alistair wants me to go in a deep-water submersible with him to look for giant squid.” He shot Ethan a wry smile. “I don’t think it can get any crazier than that.”

He couldn’t be serious.

But one look at Jackson’s slyly disbelieving face told Ethan he was. Christ, he was going to have to talk to his oldest brother. Their father was getting up in years - his days of high adventure were probably behind him. He had gone sky diving with Alistair just a few years ago...and all of them had thrown a fit about it. Deepwater submersibles didn’t sound much safer.

Ethan took a deep breath, checking to see if anyone was within earshot before adopting a casual tone more characteristic of his usual, blasé self. “I’ve made an appointment with a modern-day matchmaker.”

He expected that Jackson might laugh, or look at him like he had a few screws loose, but, instead, his father looked almost...intrigued. “Really?” His brow raised even higher as he lifted a hand to rub over his carefully clipped beard. “Sounds interesting.”

“Interesting.” Ethan deadpanned back at the older man. “I mean, yeah...I thought it might be a laugh.”

Ethan had always been the clown among them. It came naturally to him. In the days since he’d made this godforsaken appointment, however, he felt somehow out of his element.

“Who is this matchmaker?”

Ethan reached into his pants pocket - where he kept the card since he’d made the appointment, hoping he would come to his senses and cancel it. Without a word, he handed it to his father.

Jackson scanned it with surprisingly sharp eyes. The last time he went to the optometrist, she told him that she’d never seen someone his age with such good vision. “‘Harper Jones’ is it?” He turned the card over to see if he’d missed any information. “Well, Ethan, I must say I’m surprised that you’re suddenly serious about settling down.”

Immediately Ethan grimaced. That definitely wasn’t what was happening here, but he didn’t have to discuss such matters with his father at work, did he? No... he’d save the truth for later. “I can’t wait to hear about it.”

“Yeah,” Ethan scratched the back of his neck guiltily, “I’ll let you know how it goes.” Jackson Kensley beamed, thumping his son on the back before heading back to the top floor.

It took Ethan about five minutes to realize that he hadn’t given his father the papers that he meant to, and he cursed, hurrying after him. This wouldn’t do at all. He was literally so strung out that his brain was short circuiting. He needed to relax, he needed to get laid, and most of all, he needed to convince himself that he had no interest in Harper Jones and her matches.

In the days that followed, Ethan did his best to dispel the tension that lingered even after Vladimir left. He took long lunch breaks, ate at his favorite places, and even contemplated getting a dog, just to have something to concentrate on. On that note, he also contemplated calling any one of the willing girls in his contact list to scratch his ever-growing itch but, somehow, couldn’t bring himself to do so.

Instead, he went to work when he was supposed to, got sloshed with half the accounting department at happy hours afterward, and stumbled home to try and sleep with an erection the size of a small state.

Ethan had no idea how he got through the three weeks leading up to his appointment (a lot of jacking off and a shit-ton of alcohol), but suddenly the day arrived. He hadn’t called it off or canceled it. His final remaining option was to just not show up. Perfectly legitimate, really.

But he left work early that day and he found himself headed towards Soho at two-thirty, wondering what the hell he was doing.

He didn’t even know what this woman looked like. Assuming that he did end up at the appointment, how the hell would he even know who he was looking for? Nonetheless, he didn’t turn around. He didn’t go home and, at three he found himself outside Le Boulangerie, checking his reflection in the mirror.  He looked, as always, dapper and ridiculously charming - if a little nervous.

Nervous to meet a fucking matchmaker.

He had to be out of his mind. The woman was probably some middle-aged old money aristocrat who did this for fun. Running a hand through his hair, he stepped into the restaurant.

There was an immediate flurry of attention. It wasn’t the first time he’d come here, and though Ethan didn’t see the need to travel with an entourage of bodyguards, he was used to drawing attention sometimes. He did his best to ignore the people goggling at him and stepped up to the hostess - who appeared equally as star-struck. “Hey there. I have a three-pm reservation with Harper Jones.”

The redhead - she looked all of eighteen - took a moment to recover before she went to check the book in front of her. “Right. Right this way, Mr. Kensley.”

The waitress led him back through the crowded restaurant and towards a line of private rooms that lined the rear wall. They were intended for romantic dinners and the like, and she led him to the one on the end before opening a gilded single French door.

Inside, he was met by a pair of startling gray eyes.

Ethan stared unabashedly.

Harper Jones was not a middle-aged aristocrat. The woman sitting in front of him was buxom, with almost regal carriage, her thick blonde hair swept up and back from her face into a high ponytail. She wore a scarlet peplum dress that lovingly hugged her copious assets and revealed long legs. Ethan’s body reacted immediately - against his will, and he quickly slid into the seat across from Harper before he could embarrass himself. From this close, he could smell her perfume - something spicy and far more alluring than it had any right to be.

After a prolonged beat - during which Harper’s expression remained unreadable - the blonde turned to the still goggling redhead. “Thanks, Sheila.” There it was - the same sexy, smoky voice that had addressed him over the phone. Reaching up, Harper tucked a twenty into the hostess’s shirt pocket. It was enough to jog her back to the present and she beamed, quickly shutting them inside the private booth to take her leave.

Ethan was still staring at Harper. It was pretty damn hard to take his eyes off her. That gorgeous mouth, those cautious, guarded eyes, and all that long blonde hair... He wanted to wrap it in his fists, bend her over the table and-

“So, Mr. Thompson,” Harper’s voice held wry amusement as she gave him a pointed once over. “I have to admit you’ve surprised me. No easy feat.”

Ethan managed, somehow, to snap out of his trance.

This...wasn’t what he’d expected at all. This was something he’d been dealing with for his entire adult life. Ethan decided, in that instant that he didn’t give two shits about whatever matches Harper thought she’d found. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted a woman so badly on first sight in his life.

And he meant to have her.

He was back in his element. “Well, Miss Jones, I didn’t exactly want it broadcasted that I was seeking the efforts of a matchmaker. Not something I imagine would reflect favorably on me.”

“I suppose not,” Harper mused. She seemed more perplexed than surprised - and there wasn’t a single hint of anger on her face. “I would hope, however, in the interest of matching you with the right partner, that at least some of the info you gave me on the phone is correct.”

At that, Ethan grinned. “Almost all of it. Don’t go selling it to the media now.”

That drew a little frown from her. “I assure you, Mr. Kensley, that I hold my clients’ privacy in the highest regard. If there are any papers you’d have me sign, I’d be glad to.”

“I don’t think it has to come to that,” Ethan chuckled, somehow amused by her affront. This woman took her job - whatever that job happened to be - surprisingly seriously. After all that build up, here was matchmaking in the flesh - and Harper Jones was serious as the grave. “I trust you. You look very…” He gave her a leisurely, indulgent once over. “Honest.”

“For what I charge, I hope I would be.” Harper’s smile was prim and professional, her crimson red lips plump and inviting. The urge to lean across the three feet that separated them and taste her was almost overwhelming. “And I assure you my services are worth every penny.”

Too bad those weren’t the kind of services he was looking for. Ethan watched, hawk-like, as Harper opened a leather briefcase on the seat next to her and drew out a thick folder labeled with the name Trevor Thompson. She laid it on the table before meeting his gaze once more.

Her eyes really were piercing - almost as if they saw right to the core of him.

“I’m sure they are.”

His reply made the blonde woman’s lips quirk slightly in what might have been a hint of a smile, and Ethan knew he had her. By the end of this meeting, Harper Jones would be begging to have him inside her.

***

Harper thought she’d done pretty well to hide her shock. She never in a million years expected Ethan fucking Kensley be the one she was meeting.

After all she’d disregarded the man’s allure as something completely animal, now, sitting across from him, Harper saw the appeal. The Kensley’s most promiscuous member did, indeed, deserve his reputation.

He was gorgeous in the way of men that cared fastidiously for their appearances - golden hair falling carelessly around his face, his perfectly tailored suit hugging a proportionally perfect form. But, of course, a man like Ethan Kensley wouldn’t be so callous as not to maintain the perfect form. It was part of his image.

But were those piercing green eyes also part of that image? The way he looked at her as if she were wearing nothing at all?

Of course they were. A man like Ethan Kensley lived to intimidate people - and women in particular. He thrived from the idea that women liked to be dominated.

Well, Harper was about to throw him for a loop.

“So, Mr. Kensley, I suppose the most prudent first move would be to get the payment out of the way, then we can discuss the matchmaking process.” She tore her gaze from him, focusing on the folder she’d laid on the table. She had, after all, met bundles of men like Ethan Kensley in her life. She wouldn’t let him throw her off on a modicum of physical attraction.

“I already have a check made out for you, if that is all right.” Ethan said as he removed the check from his suit pocket.

“It is more than acceptable, thank you Mr. Kensley. Now, what were some of the questions that you had about this process?” Inquired Harper.

“You created it yourself, I assume?” He asked, arching a thick brow.

“Of course,” Harper allowed herself an indulgent smile. “I’ve never failed to make a match.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe.” This time it was Harper who arched a brow. She’d expected a Kensley to have a little more class than to insult her on their first meeting. On the phone, she’d heard a fair amount of skepticism in his voice. For this reason, she’d scheduled their first meeting outside her office. Harper only took clients she felt were seriously invested in the process to her office on their first meeting. She didn’t like to think she was leading those with possible bad intentions to the heart of her business.

That wasn’t to say, however, that she had ever believed that Trevor – Ethan - had bad intentions. 

There was a slim chance, if any at all, that men who sounded as skeptical as him even showed up...but now that he was here, he would try to justify his discomfort by discrediting her process.

She’d seen it all before. “No faith in modern-day matchmakers?” Harper asked him, her tone careful.

“I can’t say for sure - this is my first time,” Ethan chuckled, as if the very notion amused him to no end, “But I can’t imagine any man wanting to look for his future wife after laying eyes on you.”

For the second time that afternoon, Harper found herself surprised - but only briefly. She hid her smile, flipping open the folder on the table. “I am hardly as eligible as most New York bachelors require.”

“Married already? I don’t see a ring.”

Harper smirked. “Married to my job, Mr. Kensley.”

“Ah, so you must be practically starved for some good old fashioned romance.” His sexy smile would have completely done in a lesser woman, and Harper thanked whatever deity might exist that her little sister would never be in this man’s path.

“Of course. Your romance. The more suitable your probable mate, the happier I’ll be.” Her sweet smile earned her a perturbed look as Harper began going through the documents inside the folder. “So, I’ve already lined up three possibilities for you, Mr. Kensley. I’d like you to take a look at these profiles and tell me what you think.”

She was immune. It didn’t matter how sultry that bedroom gaze he gave her was, Harper wasn’t giving in. She was a stone statue - a marble pillar of indifference.

...but she wasn’t blind, and that was the unfortunate bit.

Though she always necessitated privacy with her clients, Harper suddenly regretted the private table she’d booked. Within the minute room, she and Kensley were closed off in their own little world; and in that world, she could smell the spicy, male scent of his cologne, feel the warmth of his muscular thigh inches from hers under the table, and her belly tightened at the intensity of his gaze upon her.

To his merit, Kensley gave her a brief reprieve. He looked over the pictures she set before him briefly, and, for a moment, Harper was certain one of them caught his eye. Men were always suckers for a pretty face - and one could distract them from another.

Or so she thought.

“I don’t like any of them.” Ethan pushed the papers back in her direction, his expression dissatisfied.

As always, Harper was infinitely patient. “Perhaps you should read over some of the profiles? In particular, Annette Redding has a very nice-”

“Have you ever used this fool-proof system of yours, Ms. Jones?” The man just wouldn’t let this go. Normally, Harper would be irritated at being interrupted, but there was something about Ethan’s plaintive interest that was just plain amusing. It was obvious that he wasn’t used to women turning him down.

She liked thinking that she would be the first - at least, if she could keep her wits about her. “I am not on the table, Mr. Kensley.” She arched a blonde brow teasingly, “Or were you hoping to get more from your deposit than a consultation?”

The jibe worked. Womanizer he might be, but at the hint of insinuation that he might expect certain services in exchange for money, Ethan Kensley backpedaled rapidly.

“That’s not...I mean...I didn’t…”

She was enjoying this way too much. Harper supposed that, in a pinch, teasing him was sufficient payback for hiding his identity from her. “I know very well what you meant,” her smile still saccharine sweet, Harper moved to deliver the final nail in the coffin. “The point of this meeting is to work on suitable matches for you, Mr. Kensley - I have no intention of sleeping with a client.”

If anything, she expected the man to be abashed - affronted. Perhaps he would even get up and storm out in a huff. But, Ethan did none of those things. Instead, he merely smiled.

That goddamned sexy smile of his. “I’m guessing I’m not the first man you’ve shot down.”

Harper offered him a sexy smile of her own. “And you won’t be the last.”

It was funny, she’d almost forgotten what it was like to banter with someone who was more brains than balls. It was more exciting than she remembered.

Ethan held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I can take a hint.” Reaching across the table, he took up the papers that he’d previously discounted. “Let’s take a look here.” He glanced up at her with teasing smirk. “If I can keep from being distracted.”

Harper rolled her eyes but found herself fighting a strange wave of disappointment. It couldn’t be, she told herself, that she wanted him to keep going despite her stolid stance. Harper was focused on the job. She was always focused on her job.

Even someone as renown - and flirtatious - as Ethan Kensley wasn’t going to change that.

As he finally settled into looking over the profiles she’d provided, Harper took the opportunity to more closely assess him. She couldn’t say that anything she’d ever read about him in a tabloid was wrong, that was for sure. The man was breathtakingly, panty-wettingly gorgeous, and he knew it. He carried an air of confidence that had to bring women running for miles. On top of that, he was a Kensley and successful in his own right?

She supposed she could see why Gary was so intrigued.

Hell, with him sitting a mere two feet away from her, Harper could admit a small part of her was intrigued. Someone like Ethan Kensley seemed bigger than life - and yet, here he was, looking to hire her services.

That was, perhaps, the strangest thing of all.

To his merit, Ethan took long enough looking over the paperwork that she was able to order her lunch and a glass of champagne. He himself ordered nothing but a martini, citing a strenuous work out later.

Harper wasn’t sure if his aim was to implant the image of him half-naked and sweating into her mind, but it worked. She was struggling to rein in the portion of her brain that was salivating when he finally looked up at her. “You found these women based on the information I gave you, right?”

His voice was carefully neutral this time - a one eighty from his earlier blatant flirtation. “They’re only preliminary matches,” Harper provided. “Very rarely do we find success within the first ten results of matching. This was, after all, just a consultation.”

“You are feeling me out, right?”

She didn’t know if she’d ever been so interested in watching a man sip a martini - but Harper had the act of feigning blasé down to an art. “Certainly. Meeting you in person gives me a better idea of what women might suit your tastes.”

“And, after meeting me, do you still think that any of these women are to my tastes?”

If she was honest with herself, Harper didn’t know what to think - besides the fact that she was obviously to his tastes. But, of course, Ethan wasn’t thinking long term. When Harper matched people, the end goal was marriage. Her clients were looking for someone to settle down with, throwing all their funds into that perfect romance…

Harper didn’t believe for one second that Ethan was looking for holy matrimony. He wasn’t the type. Which meant that this endeavor would probably be her hardest challenge yet.

“No, I suppose not.”

He chuckled, swirling the remainder of his martini around the glass before popping the single olive in his mouth. “I’m already impressed.”

“I can prepare a new set of matches for you in about a week. Is there any new information you’d like me to take into account while I’m searching?” Besides the fact that he was Ethan fucking Kensley. 

“Just that I’ve been celibate ever since this little endeavor started...so she might want to be ready for that.” Harper found her cheeks coloring slightly. She might have expected something like that was coming - Ethan wouldn’t have given up completely. What she didn’t expect was to be impressed by the little tidbit of information.

Celibate? Ethan Kensley? The very notion was an oxymoron. Promiscuity was part of his persona. He might be telling her to insinuate the size of his appetite, but all Harper saw was that the man had stopped listening to his cock for long enough to listen to something else. Exactly what was anyone’s guess. “Meaning that you’ve decided to be chaste and wait for your one true love?” She couldn’t help the jibe. The idea of Ethan Kensley holding out for a hero was just too precious.

“Meaning that when she comes along, I’m going to fuck the fear of God into her, yeah.”

Harper stiffened as a vein of molten heat shot straight to her core. Whatever she thought his retort might be, it wasn’t that. He was unmistakably cocky, that was certain - and that sort of thing didn’t usually appeal to Harper.

But it had been a long, long time. If she were to sleep with a man, she wouldn’t want to fumble around with someone who didn’t know what they were doing. Harper had seen enough of that to last her a lifetime. Her libido wondered very enthusiastically what it might be like to be with a man of Ethan’s supposed prowess.

Supposed being the key word. Of course, if she had a nickel for every man who had bragged to her about the orgasms he had in store...she’d be even more wealthy than she was.

Swallowing thickly, Harper merely fixed her newest client with her usually enigmatic smile. “I’ll certainly take it into account.”

She wasn’t really certain how she made her exit as gracefully as she had. When Harper stood, her legs were decidedly shaky and she needed a fresh pair of underwear. She left Ethan Kensley sitting there with his cocky smirk, and cursed him all the way back to her office.

Fear of God, huh? They’d just have to see about that.