The car takes us across the bridge to Brooklyn, and drops us outside an anonymous warehouse building. “This place isn’t officially open to the public yet,” Jack tells me as we go inside. The outer wall was painted a glossy black, but the inside is all stark white. “They’re still working out the final logistics. But I happen to know the equipment works perfectly.”

Equipment? I look around in trepidation. “Where exactly are we?” I ask as we head past the empty front desk into a hallway lined with doors.

“They’re calling it a ‘virtual reality’ bar,’” Jack says. “It’s the next generation of entertainment.”

“You put on a headset and pretend to get drunk?” I ask dubiously.

He chuckles. “Not quite. The food and drink are real, but the environment is all your own choosing. You can play games, do sports, explore anywhere in the world . . . all from one room.”

Okay, I’m intrigued. He leads me into a white-walled room, empty except for a table set with a bar menu and the VR equipment. I take out one of the headsets and examine it. I’ve tried out VR before at a conference, but never done a fully immersive experience.

“What do you think?” Jack asks, and I’m surprised to see him looking expectant, like he cares about my answer.

“I’ll give it a shot,” I agree. “As long as there’s a martini in my hand. I can handle pretty much anything if there’s a martini.”

He grins and hits a button by the door. “Coming right up.”

While he orders, and a bartender arrives with our drinks, I pick up a controller and explore. The far wall turns into a screen with a list of scenarios: assassins, jungle explorers, hang-gliding . . . I’ve still got all this pent-up frustration from my run-in with Shelby, and I need to get it out. Ah! I know what I need. Dragon slaying. “Let’s hack up some giant fire-breathing lizards,” I suggest.

Jack gives me a smirk. “Why am I not surprised that’s your pick?”

I make a face at him, but I find I don’t mind the teasing. Away from the gala, Jack looks relaxed. He strips off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves, so I kick off my heels and get comfy too.

He hands me a small, smooth baton and takes one for himself. “I think these are going to serve as our swords.”

I fit the headset over my eyes. It’s a little heavy but not uncomfortably so.

Jack clicks a few buttons on the controller, and the scene in the viewfinder springs to life. I’m standing in a forest, with a stretch of rocky hill in front. At the peak of the hill is a cave. Some pretty ominous-looking smoke is trailing out of its opening.

A figure appears beside me in the scene. It’s Jack, with a digitized suit of armor mapped over his clothes. His baton has turned into a massive broadsword. It looks so real—and so out of place on the playboy billionaire—that I have to laugh. Jack smirks back at me.

“You should see yourself.”

I kind of can. When I peer down, I can tell I’ve been outfitted with my own set of fitted armor. I swing my arm and watch my “sword” slash through the air. Oh, yeah. That’s satisfying. And we haven’t even got to the dragons yet.

“Whoa, easy there.” One of my slashes goes near Jack.

I laugh. “What happens if I get you?”

“Game over,” he says.

“Hmm, tempting . . .”

He laughs. “Come on, dragons are more satisfying to kill.”

I don’t know about that, but I follow his lead. It takes a minute for me to get used to the walking. I have to stay in place, letting the VR equipment judge how fast to move the scenery from my speed. Otherwise I’d walk into the still-totally-real walls, of course.

Once I get comfortable, I jog the rest of the way to the cave. The audio effects make the thump of my feet and Jack’s behind me sound like we’re actually running over rocky earth. But I don’t have much time to soak in the little details. There’s a roar, and a dragon the size of a bus soars out of the cave.

“Holy shit,” I say, staring at it. The animation is spectacular. The “sunlight” overhead glints off perfectly sculpted scales. Then I remember I’m supposed to be slaying this thing, not admiring it.

The dragon whirls in the air and swoops toward us. I ready my sword. “You figure we go for the neck?” That seems like an easier strike point than wherever the “heart” supposedly is in that massive chest.

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Jack says. “Go for it.”

The dragon aims a blast of fire at me. I manage to leap out of the way. I swear I felt real heat from that. I giggle. “Um, are we supposed to have shields too?”

“Too late for that now,” Jack says. “We can manage without.”

The dragon swoops again. This time I slash out with my sword in time. I slice right through its sinewy neck, and it wisps away with a shriek. Victory! Grinning, I raise my sword like I’m a baseball batter at the plate. “Next!”

Another dragon charges from the cave. This one sticks to the ground, running straight at us. I dodge to one side and Jack to the other. We both stab the monster at the same time. It crumples and vanishes like the first one.

“Nice!” I say. We high five each other with a clink of imaginary armor.

A rumble reverberates from the cave, and two more dragons barge out. I leap forward to meet one with a rush of adrenaline. Maybe I couldn’t slay those assholes back at the party, but this is almost as good, and with every swipe and stab of my sword, I feel stronger. Fiercer.

Invincible.

We’ve taken down maybe ten dragons when a message blinks on the air in front of us. Scenario complete. Replay or Select New.

I catch my breath, panting.

“Want to play again?” Jack asks.

I’m tempted. Playing pretend is fun, and I have to admit, the white-knight version of Jack is just as handsome as the businessman. I swear that guy would look dashing in anything. And anyone would look dashing in armor. So it’s dashingness squared. Almost irresistible.

Good thing I have a very good reason to resist.

“Maybe not,” I say quickly, lifting off my headset. “I’m starving. I think I’ll just go grab some dinner.”

“Sounds good,” Jack replies. “Where do you want to go?”

I’m about to tell him that wasn’t an invitation when I pause. Why shouldn’t it be one? Just because people like Shelby can’t conceive of a professional relationship doesn’t mean I need to walk on eggshells. I’ve been having fun with Jack, and besides, the more I get under his playboy persona, the better my matches are going to be.

“I pick this time,” I tell him with a smile. “And dinner’s on me.”

---

I take him to a kebab place I know, a little hole-in-the-wall joint that’s straight out of the Mediterranean. The meat is so tender and smoky I can’t help sighing over my first bite, and even Jack makes appreciative noises. Still, my enjoyment of the food doesn’t stop me from noticing the looks we’re getting as we stroll down the street. Lots of people are out on the town, but most of them aren’t dressed up quite as much as us. I can’t remember the last time I was dressed up this much. I tug at the shoulders of the dress, and Jack must pick up on my self-consciousness because he gives me a sideways look. “You know they’re only looking at you because you’re stunning in that dress, right?”

My cheeks heat up. “Stunningly out of place?”

He laughs. “You really aren’t used to having the spotlight on you, are you? You’re going to have to get comfortable with it if you want to take your business to the next level.”

“Oh, no.” I shake my head firmly. “There’s a reason I went into tech. I prefer sitting behind a computer to standing in front of a crowd.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Jack grins. “If—no, when—this thing takes off, people will want to know your story. Interviews, press, hell even just meeting with vendors.”

I gulp just at the thought of it. “Pitching is my least favorite thing,” I confess, before realizing what he just said.

When it takes off. Does that mean he’s coming around on Perfect Match?

“What are you saying?” Jack says, teasing. “I thought you pitched fine—considering you were thirty feet off the ground.”

“Don’t remind me!” I groan. “I get sick just thinking about it. I’m scared of heights.”

“But you climbed up anyway?”

“I wasn’t going to let the chance to pitch you pass me by.”

Jack almost looks impressed. “Facing your fears, that’s the cure for anything. Like being the center of attention.” He stops on the street and takes my hand. Before I can even figure out what he’s playing at, he gets down on one knee.

“Jack?” I hiss. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you face your fear,” he grins.

“People are looking!” I glance around. Everyone’s stopping to stare, gasping in anticipation, and looking all googly-eyed. I can only imagine what they’re thinking: two people in formal outfits in the middle of the street, with him on one knee, clasping my hand.

“Stop it!” I say through clenched teeth.

He grins up at me. “Stop what? This is just a very comfortable position in which to hold a conversation.”

Damn it. There’s a small crowd starting to gather, and I can feel their eyes on me. Watching.

“McKenna, I’ve got an important question to ask,” he says loudly, his blue eyes full of mirth.

I want to die. Seriously. Dead. Six feet under in a coffin, sign me up.

“I’ve been thinking, and . . .”

“No!” I blurt loudly.

There’s a sigh of disappointment from the crowd.

“No, I can’t marry you,” I continue, my cheeks blazing. “Not after what you did with my mother.”

“Your what?” Jack looks surprised, but now the murmurs from the crowd are shocked—and focused on him.

“How could you?” I say loudly. “Especially now that I’m pregnant. With twins!”

The rumbles of judgment get louder. Jack looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Touché,” he murmurs, and I grin. He started it, and now suddenly, he’s the one looking like he wishes he was anywhere else.

“How are you going to get out of this one?” I challenge him in a whisper.

“Easy.”

Jack tugs my hand and then takes off running down the street. I follow, laughing. We dash around the corner, leaving our spectators behind.

We make it down the block before Jack stops. “I can’t believe you just did that!” he laughs. His hair is ruffled in the wind, and his eyes are sparkling.

Did I mention eye candy before? He’s a whole damn store’s worth now.

“You started it,” I retort.

“And I’ve learned my lesson now.” He mimics crossing his heart.

I laugh again, remembering the look on his face. “Well, I guess now I have a great story about the first time a guy got down on bended knee for me.”

“You’ve never been that serious with anyone?” Jack asks, as we start walking again.

“It’s a lot easier to do it for other people than for yourself,” I admit. “Plus, the kind of guys I get along with best are a lot like me. Hard-working, driven . . .”

“Workaholic,” Jack finishes for me.

“Pretty much. I think the trick is going to be finding someone who falls for me harder than he’s already fallen for his job.”

“Oh, come on,” Jack teases. “Who could want to look at a computer screen when they could be looking at you?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Plenty of people, apparently. I actually tried to combine the two once—wait, no, I’m not telling you that story.”

“Aww, come on!” he protests. “With an intro like that, you can’t leave me hanging.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “I was dating this guy, we would send really hot emails to each other, but in person . . . well, he was pretty shy. So, I got a bunch of boudoir shots done—fancy lingerie, nothing outright pornographic,” I say quickly, before he gets any ideas. “I figured it would help set the mood, you know? He could look at me on his computer screen. Unfortunately he was a little too enthusiastic about them. His boss just happened to walk by when he was at work . . . He got reprimanded and I got a Dear John email.”

“Ouch.” Jack laughs. “Bullet dodged?”

“Definitely.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “But I’d bet you’ve got way better stories than that.”

“Who, me?” He smiles and rubs his chin. “You mean, something like the girl who wanted to bring her pet boa constrictor in bed with us? Or the one who had a superstition about always wearing her clothes backwards on dates? Or there was the one who literally ran away to join the circus . . .”

“Oh my God!” I laugh. “Are you just making those up?”

Jack gives me a wounded look. “Would I lie, Ms. Delaney?”

I shake my head. “At this point, I think you’d better start calling me McKenna.”

And definitely not just because I know I like the way it sounds when he says it.

“All right, McKenna,” he says. I’ll just ignore the warm shiver that travels up my spine. “How exactly did you get into the matchmaking business anyway? Why is this app so important to you?”

I shrug. “I guess I’ve seen too many people unhappy because they focused on the wrong things in their relationships,” I say. “My parents were more like roommates than romantic partners the whole time I was growing up. They got married right out of college without really figuring out who they were first, because they’d gotten comfortable with each other. My brother had a short marriage to a woman who made him feel safe but not much else, as far as I can tell. And I . . .”

I stop. No, I didn’t really want to talk about my bad patterns with guys. Somehow that feels more embarrassing than the boudoir pics.

“My friends had all the same problems, too,” I add. “It happens over and over. But people want to be happy. They just don’t know what to look for or how to look for it. So I figure, why not make it easier for them? If the research is there, and I know how to work with it . . . Maybe I can’t bring world peace to the planet, but I can at least know there are more happy couples out there than before I came around. That seems like a pretty decent goal to shoot for.”

Jack is quiet for long enough that I wonder if I’ve embarrassed myself somehow. Maybe he thinks my reasons are stupid. Then the edge of his mouth curls in a smile. “You know I don’t believe that love is something that can be pinned down by research,” he says. “But even if I’m not totally convinced, I still think it’s a really admirable thing you’re trying to do. A lot of people would have said something like, ‘I think a dating app will make a lot of money.’ ”

I laugh. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind making a lot of money. But it’s not my first priority, no. A close second,” I add. “Like, this far away.” I hold my thumb and forefinger a couple of inches apart.

He laughs. “I like that. I’m glad I asked.”

I am too. An unfamiliar warmth is filling my chest. We’ve been hanging out for hours now, and—gasp—I’m actually having a good time.

I look over again, and find Jack looking at me. Our eyes lock, and I feel a rush of something sharp and dizzy in my veins. In the neon glow of the streetlight, his face is all chiseled angles and dark, glittering gaze, but there’s more than just surface here too: the heat of his body, just inches away. Solid, and taut, and masculine . . .

I flush, my heart racing faster. I’m hit with a wave of desire so strong it takes me by surprise. I’m used to analyzing a situation, thinking it through, but suddenly, my body knows exactly what it wants.

Jack. Naked. Bearing down on me with a delicious weight and—

His phone alert pings, breaking the moment. Jack pulls the phone out and glances at the text.

“Hmm,” he says. “I think I’m going to have to call it a night.”

I’m almost relieved, but there’s something in his voice gives me an idea of exactly where he’s going next. “Booty call?” I ask casually.

He coughs and tucks the phone away. “Something like that.”

His answer shouldn’t deflate me, but it does. Okay, maybe I’ve let myself get a little too wrapped up in our banter. I can’t be upset about him meeting women when I’m in this to set him up with one.

I shake it off and give him a breezy smile. This is a good thing. A good thing that will stop me panting over him for the rest of the night. “Enjoy. But don’t forget, you’ve got another Perfect Match date to set. And this next one will be right for you.”

“Promises, promises.” Jack grins back.

It’s not just a pledge to him, it’s one to myself, too. After all, we’re almost twenty days down, with no soulmate in sight. If I don’t come up with the goods soon, then I can kiss my investment goodbye.

“I’ll get it right,” I say, determined. And determined to forget my body’s betrayal. “You can count on it.”