Andy shuffled around the apartment, not caring that she was already probably going to be late for work. It wasn’t that she was nervous about going in—actually, that’s exactly what it was. She was shaking-in-her-socks nervous and she couldn’t even begin to say all the reasons why.
After she’d left Blake on Saturday, she’d spent the rest of the afternoon racking up charges on his business card with purchases for his home. That had felt good. She’d never realized how much fun it was to spend money, never having had much of it herself. Although she’d certainly imagined it enough times.
But after she’d finished with her shopping spree, she’d been at a loss as to what she should do next. She was certain she had a grasp on the type of woman Blake wanted to date, only where to find her? Should she take out a Craigslist ad as Blake had? She imagined the headline—Wanted: Attractive, preferably Asian, woman to date sleazy bachelor and ignore his lack of humanity in exchange for an account at Nordstrom. No personality desired. Serious inquiries only. Her gut told her that wouldn’t attract anyone decent. Well, gut and brain.
She’d scoured her own social media accounts looking for anyone local who might fit the bill. No one. Besides, did she really want to submit her friends to Blake’s arrogance? Not if she intended to keep her friends.
Saturday night she’d tagged along with Lacy to a gig hoping she’d find a suitable candidate there. Not even close. She’d gazed around the room at various women and ruled them out one by one. The one with blue streaks in her hair? No, she obviously enjoyed attention too much to be submissive. The flawlessly beautiful brunette standing by the stage? Oh, just threw her undies at Lacy. This one, too hip, that one, too hippy. The show was a complete bust.
Sunday she’d tried one of the mega churches, standing outside the doors while the parishioners filed out on their way to brunch. Here she’d spotted several women with potential. Approaching them, however, was a whole new problem. How the hell was she supposed to sell a date with Blake to passersby? It was hard enough figuring out how she was going to allure dates when she had the time to build him up. Perhaps if she held up a sign with his much-too-gorgeous-for-his-own-good face and the words WANNA DATE? She’d put that on her mental list of possibilities for the future.
Sunday night she refused to think about it anymore. By Monday morning, she had a headache and a case of cold feet. She was already so much of a failure in her own eyes. She really didn’t want to fail this too. Yet she was beginning to think it was inevitable. So could anyone blame her for not wanting to hurry to her job?
There was another reason for her hesitancy—one much harder to admit. It could be boiled down to two words: Blake Donovan. Not only had her visit to his mansion enlightened her on the women he was attracted to, but now Andy was also pretty sure she knew the kinds of things he’d like to do with those women. She’d seen his tight pants after looking at those explicit pics and if she hadn’t been sure then, his comment about hotel reservations made his intentions crystal clear.
It was to be expected; he was a man after all. Looking at extremely erotic images would surely pique his interest. Standing next to him, leaning on his firm shoulder as his musky scent filled her senses, even she’d been aroused. Because of the pictures, of course. For no other reason. It was an overall arousing scenario. Surely, if she were a man, she’d also have become interested.
But for some reason, witnessing his … interest … in other women bothered her. Bothered her a lot. It was psycho, because this was ultimately her job. She was supposed to find the woman that interested Blake to no end. Why did that thought tug so uncomfortably in her chest?
Best not to answer that.
“Aren’t you going to be late?” Lacy called groggily from where she’d passed out on the couch the night before.
Andy grabbed some pumps to toss into her bag then slunk into the armchair to tie her sneakers. “Maybe.” Definitely.
Lacy squinted open her eyes just enough to send a scowl across the coffee table. “You’ve been there less than a week. Tardiness—”
“Oh, shut it, Lacy. I’m not in the mood.”
“Your mood doesn’t count. It’s keeping that creeper boss of yours happy that pays the bills.” She pulled a pillow over her face. “Did you at least make coffee?”
Andy pretended not to have heard the muffled question. If she’d gotten up instead of hitting SNOOZE, she could have made the coffee. Instead, she had pushed the button and closed her eyes, then proceeded to lie there fuming about the day ahead of her instead of enjoying the extra ten minutes. Then she had done it twice more. So now she was riled up and undercaffeinated. Freaking Mondays.
She closed the apartment door behind her just as Lacy’s pillow hit. “Missed, sucker!” she called through the door as she locked it. She was still smiling to herself when she turned around and saw a gorgeous Asian woman standing in front of the neighbor’s door and staring at her.
“Are you looking for Mrs. Brandy?” The words were out before Andy remembered that wasn’t the elderly next-door neighbor’s real name. “I mean, Mrs. Brando.”
The woman looked at the envelope in her hand. “Yeah. I got her mail by mistake. I’m in the same apartment, but the next building over.” She knocked for what couldn’t have been the first time, judging by the toe-tapping.
“She’s out of town for two weeks. I’ve just been stuffing her mail under her door.” Andy took the mail from the other woman’s slim, manicured hand and crouched. “Getting a bit of buildup, I see. Just give it a little—push—ah! There we go.” She wedged the envelope past the jam triumphantly then looked up to see the woman’s expression.
“She asked me to. I didn’t just decide to do that randomly,” Andy reassured her. The woman’s face relaxed into a stunning smile.
“Thanks for the tip. If I end up with any more of her mail, I know what to do. So … Mrs. Brandy?” They fell into step heading for the stairs.
“That’s what my sister and I call her. She’s a bit of a drinker.”
“Ah. Clever.” The woman’s heels clicked smartly down the steps ahead of Andy.
She couldn’t help but notice how fit her new acquaintance’s legs looked stemming down from her skirt. Particularly her calves. She’d always wished for that kind of definition herself, but didn’t have the willpower to acquire it.
“Her name’s basically begging for it, isn’t it?” Andy was impressed with how well she was performing at small talk. She usually didn’t articulate anything very well before at least four ounces of coffee.
“That or some Marlon Brando joke. Is she very manly?”
“Actually, she is … I’m Andy, by the way. Andy Dawson.” She stuck out a hand.
The woman’s grip was firm but not overbearing. “Jaylene Kim.”
Ah, Korean. Andy was starting to formulate a plan. And a read. “You said you’re from next door?”
“The next building, yeah.”
They reached the front door, which Andy held open. “God, I have got to get better about knowing my neighbors.”
“No worries. I’m the same way.” Jaylene flashed that smile again, made even more glorious in contrast with her bright red lips. The woman’s makeup was flawless.
“Are you headed—” They stepped out into the warm Boston morning.
“To the subway. You?” Jaylene paused for Andy’s answer.
“Me too.” Though she had considered grabbing a cab—it was the only way she’d make it to the office on time. But if she could snag a date for Blake out of this chance encounter, the tardiness would be justified. With a possibly too-wide grin, Andy said, “So what do you do, Jaylene?”
“I teach at Boston University Academy.”
Andy watched as Jaylene spoke, mesmerized by the way her lips moved and how precise and articulate each word was. “You’re a professor?”
“Not quite. It’s a private high school on BU’s campus. I teach English.”
English at a private high school? How girlie could a woman get? Feminine, demure.
Jaylene wiped a hand across her dry brow. “I’m a little embarrassed that I’m taking the train.”
“Do you usually walk the whole thing?” Andy was impressed. Physical exertion of any sort was not her cup of tea. She suffered through the yoga but wasn’t about to take it any further.
“I don’t. But only because I run seven miles before I get ready for work.” It was amazing how she didn’t even sound like she was bragging. As if it were the norm. “Running to work would be a little much. Plus, sweaty.”
“Oh, yeah. Me too.” Andy pinned her eyes to her cross trainers—the ones that still looked as pristine as the day she’d bought them a year ago since they hadn’t gotten much action. Dammit. I never grabbed my heels. “I mean, I exercise before work because, sweaty.” Lies.
“So you’re off to work as well?”
“Yeah. I’m, uh, a personal assistant for an IT executive.” Andy swallowed, preparing to make her move. “Hey, can I ask a totally forward question? Are you seeing anyone?”
“Um…” The other woman’s steps slowed.
“Not for me. For someone else. A guy.” Andy realized she was likely not making the situation any better, but charged ahead anyway. “I mean, I’m not hitting on you. I didn’t think you were a lesbian, if that’s what you thought. Not that I wouldn’t be interested if I was, that’s just not—if you were thinking that’s what I meant.”
“Actually, I didn’t know what to think. I still don’t.”
“Of course not. I’m going about this all weird.” God, pimping was so … awkward? “It’s for my boss. He’s decided to get out in the field and though we just met, I have to say, I really think you’d mesh with him. His name is Blake Donovan—”
“Blake Donovan of Donovan InfoTech?” Jaylene’s right eyebrow lifted.
“You’ve heard of him?” Andy couldn’t help the surprise that sounded in her voice.
“He’s the toast of Boston’s business scene.” Jaylene fanned her face with her hand. “Who hasn’t heard of him?”
Until she’d met him the day of her interview, Andy hadn’t, that’s who hadn’t. “Yeah, exactly. Who hasn’t.”
“If I remember right, he’s a hottie.”
“Yes. Yes, he is. I have a picture.” Andy was suddenly grateful for the doldrum hour on Saturday that she had filled snapping shots of Blake on her phone unbeknownst to him.
Jaylene took the phone, her eyes brightening as she took in Blake’s picture. “Yummy.”
Though pleased with Jaylene’s assessment, Andy couldn’t help feeling a little bit stabby that someone else recognized how attractive Blake Donovan was. It was honestly the most absurd feeling she’d had in, well, ever. She dismissed it as a side effect of the no-coffee-plus-walking thing.
Jaylene handed the phone back to Andy. “And you think he’d want to go out with me?”
“I’m positive. He asked me to set him up, in fact.” Not a lie. “Would you be interested?”
“Maybe.” Jaylene’s tone said there was no maybe about it. It was yes all the way.
“Tell you what—are you on Facebook?”
She nodded so Andy opened her phone and entered Jaylene’s name in her social media app. When her profile came up, she sent a friend request. “I just friended you.”
Jaylene’s own phone buzzed from the side pocket of her purse. She pulled it out and flicked her fingers across the screen. “And I just accepted.”
It took all of Andy’s strength not to happy dance right there in the station. “I’ll show Blake your profile, if you don’t mind, and see what he says?”
“Yeah. That sounds … great, actually. Thanks.”
There was a moment of semistrange silence between them which Andy filled with unnatural grinning and staring at Jaylene’s daintily polished hands. Thankfully, the moment was interrupted by the arrival of a train.
“Well, this is me,” Jaylene said with a shrug.
“Great meeting you.” Was that too eager? “I’ll get back to you soon.”
The women waved and parted.
With Jaylene out of sight, Andy let out a sigh of half relief, half elation. She might have a grip on this ridiculous job of hers after all. Although extremely tardy and undercaffeinated, she couldn’t help thinking, I’m awesome.
* * *
Two days in, and his matchmaker was already late. How could he have been so wrong? Blake was rarely off on his assessments like this. Her first working days seemed to have been going extraordinarily well, despite all his best efforts. He still cringed at the thought of how Drea had derailed him so much in the elevator.
Now that she was showing her true colors, he was feeling far more in control. Once that unruly hair popped around his door, he was going to give her a piece of his mind. He was going to put her in her place, and then he was going to sit down in his place, and get in the B-Zone. He was going to show Andrea and Monday who was boss.
But when she peered around the jamb with such a delighted sparkle in her eyes, he decided to wait and hear just what had her all riled up before laying down the law. And when she started hopping back and forth from one foot to the other while gushing about the date she’d just interviewed, he decided that her neon-orange cross trainers were actually the worst part of what was happening here. After all, she had been working. He knew he hadn’t been wrong about her. Blake Donovan was rarely wrong. Andrea wasn’t the only one who was an astute reader of people.
He let her words flow past his ears as he studied her, trying to decide why he was finding himself so unexpectedly charmed by this display of enthusiasm. Probably it was because most of his employees played their cards close to the vest. Probably it was just the novelty of it. Probably nothing.
He tuned back in as she collected a few folders and printouts and marched over to his desk. “So I tentatively scheduled you for Thursday evening. I figured you’d want to approve it, obviously, but this also gives you a little time to make sure that jives with your schedule. Okay, these are the latest batch, and I’m not telling you which one I’ve spoken with.” She slid the small stack over to him and fanned them.
He gave the head shots a cursory glance. At first look, he thought two were decent, one was doubtful, and one was perfect. He slid one of the maybes back at her. “Tell me about this one.”
“Amanda Delgado. Retail clerk at a high-end boutique. Has an associate’s degree, no plans to further her education beyond that. Hobbies include shopping and horses.” She waited for his reaction. Blake considered. There were a few things that gave him pause about her profile, brief though it was. He’d never liked horse people, for one. Creeped him out. And shopping? Was she going to be a shoe person? He sent another disapproving look in the direction of Drea’s feet.
The thing that he was silently debating was the education bit. It was true that he didn’t like ambitious women, and those with degrees tended to be. Many educated women also tended to have opinions, and those simply would not stand when his spouse was entertaining business associates. On the other hand, and he had Drea to thank for this, he was beginning to realize that women with opinions could simply be more interesting. Blake was torn, and he didn’t like that feeling.
“Pass,” he said. “This one?” He pointed toward the doubtful girl. There wasn’t anything wrong with her per se, but something about the arch of her brows and the sharpness of her nose said total bitch, even with the smile she was wearing.
“Mina Mizuki. Works in a nonprofit animal shelter, active member of PETA, enjoys cooking.”
“Pass. Absolutely not. No way.” He was shaking his head before she’d finished her spiel.
“Why? She’s skinny and brunette, and already has a pet charity. That’s kind of perfect for the stay-at-home wife of a gazillionnaire.” Of course she was going to argue about this.
“It isn’t any charity, Andrea. PETA is for vegans. Vegans, Andrea.” He felt pained at the very thought. “Do you think I plan on dating this woman at salad bars, because the menu at Del Frisco’s offends her?”
“I suppose you don’t look like the tofu type, no. But she cooks, didn’t you want that?” She still looked hopeful. This woman was impossible. Why was he explaining himself to an employee?
“PETA is also an organization that prides itself on celebrity endorsements. If I start dating this person, I’ll be her ticket to landing a big name for the next ad campaign. Her cooking or not is beside the point. I’m not interested in being used for my name or status.” Andrea pressed her lips together and held out her hand for another folder.
The other maybe skidded in her direction.
“Melissa Carswell. Dancer. Not very talkative, but seems nice enough.” That sounded promising.
“She’s a possibility. Pull up her home address on Google Earth.”
Drea stared at him in disbelief, but he was not joking. Location, location, location—it wasn’t just a real estate mantra. Where people chose to spend their time said a lot about them.
Once she had located the address, he leaned over her. “I know that neighborhood. Lots of bars. It’s a party area. She’s obviously a drinker. Pass.” He was close enough to smell her shampoo, but also to hear the choice words she muttered about him. He pulled back.
“That leaves us with Jaylene Kim,” she said in her normal voice. He leaned back in, ostensibly to study the picture, but she smelled really nice. Blake idly wondered why he didn’t find excuses to smell her more often.
“Because that would be inappropriate,” Drea was saying.
Oh, dear. Had he said that last thing out loud? “Excuse me?” Please don’t let that have been out loud.
“I was saying it would have been inappropriate for me to have informed your secretary about your date already, but you clearly don’t have many choices left if you plan on meeting anyone this week. Try and keep up.”
“Is Jamie a carnivore?” He picked up the woman’s picture and studied it more closely. She was a stunner. An apple-scented stunner. Wait—that was Drea’s shampoo again. Either way, it left him pleasantly dizzy while he drank in the dark-haired beauty on the page.
“It’s Jaylene, and I believe so.”
“Book Jamie and I a table at Del Frisco’s for Thursday. I’m suddenly in the mood for prime rib.” Blake was back in the B-Zone, confident as hell, stalking around the office and ticking off items on his fingers. “Deal with those shoes. They clash horribly with your skirt. You can have Friday off, since you came in Saturday. We can discuss the date Monday.” He paused. That would be a three-day weekend without seeing Andrea. “Plan to bring me another batch of candidates on Saturday, at my home.”
“Blake.” He faced her, the questioning look on his face a contrast with the stormy one on hers. “Her name is Jaylene. It doesn’t matter how good the steak is, how sweet and submissive the date, no woman will ever want to be with you if you can’t remember her name. Try to have a little respect. For you, a wife is an accessory, but you’re expecting to be someone’s whole life. Also, I forgot my heels, so.”
Even the confidence of the B-Zone couldn’t keep that from stinging. And now he’d have to look at those stupid orange shoes all day. He felt himself deflating. This was unacceptable. He’d have to find a way to gain his control back.