Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
She hadn’t done a deep dive on him, but she knew he was an Olympic diver, no pun intended, who’d won several gold medals and now ran a sports gear empire.
Could you become an Olympic gold medalist three times over if you were crazy?
She also remembered seeing him at the coffee shop. Who wouldn’t notice a hunk like him? All that dark hair and those sinfully blue eyes, and so handsome with his athletic build that she’d felt a sexy thrum in her blood. But she hadn’t known who he was. One certainly didn’t expect an Olympian to pop into the local coffee shop, let alone a billionaire.
Oh yes, she’d noticed him. But that was as far as it went. She had her business and didn’t date a lot—okay, she hadn’t been on a date in a year. Michaela claimed it was because she was so busy with work, but her mom refuted that, saying it was because Michaela had very high standards. But the truth was, she’d kissed too many frogs. She was far better at matching billionaires than she’d ever been at matching herself. She had lousy taste in men—no, horrendous taste in men. She could matchmake the world, but she couldn’t matchmake herself. It was the matchmaker’s curse.
But this man made her heart flutter. From the moment he’d walked into her office, she’d found herself almost tongue-tied.
Still, he was a billionaire. And he wanted her to match his sister, because of a bet, no less. Crazy.
It wasn’t that billionaires were a bad lot. Those she’d worked with were quite nice. She got rid of the creepy ones who came to her ASAP. But though she worked with billionaires, she wasn’t one of them. She would never fit in with that set.
And she’d never match herself with one.
It reminded her of the Taylor Swift song, “But Daddy, I Love Him,” about a simple girl rising too high and falling for the wrong boy. For her, though, it was more that she wanted a man who’d worked his way up like she had. One who didn’t have everything handed to him. Someone with whom she would have something in common.
She could never have anything in common with a man like Troy Harrington, even if he was sinfully sexy.
Her answer was emphatic. “No, it’s not going to work.”
She didn’t throw him out of her office, but the desire to was in her adamant tone.
But he didn’t move from that elegant slouch on her sofa, eyeing her for a long moment before he said, “All right, I get it. You won’t do it unless my sister gives you consent.” He folded his arms over his impressive chest, which she’d been trying to ignore. “So come to this gig we have going on down in Carmel this Saturday. It’s a gallery showing for my brother’s best friend. Gareth Tate—an amazing painter. And you can meet Gabby, along with the rest of the family and all the Mavericks.”
The Mavericks? She’d heard of them. Everyone in the San Francisco Bay Area—and across the country, even the world—had heard of them. They were all as rich as Croesus. And he wanted her to mingle with them?
Did she even want this commission? It sounded squirrely. If things went bad, it could ruin her spotless reputation as a matchmaker. She started again. “I don’t think—”
Leaning forward, he cut her off. “I’d like you to come. If you talk to Gabby and you still don’t want to do it, then fine. But at least give us a chance.”
Us? Him and his sister? The whole family? The Mavericks?
Should she do this? It could be a challenge, and she liked challenges. If she got his sister’s consent, then everything would be aboveboard. Could it be that bad? Maybe it would even open doors for her.
But she had a feeling that if she said yes, she’d be taking on far more than she bargained for.
Troy didn’t believe Gabby would ever agree. She wanted to win the bet as much as he did—the Harringtons were a competitive lot, even when it came to love. But if Michaela came on Saturday, he’d get to see her again. And suddenly that seemed like much more fun than the bet.
He’d thought she was still on the fence until she asked, “Can I bring a guest?”
He was quick to answer, “Sure.”
Though he could have asked who she would bring—a boyfriend, God forbid?—it was more of a challenge if he didn’t know.
After only a moment’s hesitation, she said, “All right. Thank you, I’d like to come.”
His heart seemed to soar, which was an odd sensation—he didn’t think his heart had soared over a woman since high school. And maybe not even then, because he’d been too engrossed in championship diving.
Then it dropped like a stone when she added, “But only to get your sister’s consent. And there are no guarantees on whether she’ll fall in love.”