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)
Her mother waggled her eyebrows. “So he asked you out.”
Michaela gave her a stern look. “Don’t start. This isn’t a date. It’s a business deal. And he said I could bring a guest.” Her voice rose with a smug tone. “You can be my plus-one.”
Flo put her hand to her chest. She had a beautiful figure, as well as a beautiful smile. Why hadn’t some wonderful man snapped her up?
“I’d love to go.” Her green eyes shone like emeralds. “This could be so much fun, my darling. We’ll get all gussied up.” Her mind was already running away with plans. “I’ll make us new outfits. Something spectacular.”
After Michaela’s father left them, her mother had gone to work to support them. Living in Modesto, things had been hard for Flo. Her family had pretty much disowned her for getting pregnant and also for picking a deadbeat, as they’d called Michaela’s father—which turned out to be true. Even Flo’s friends made sure she never forgot she’d made a huge mistake. But Flo had struggled on, working as a seamstress for a dry cleaner, and also taking in alterations on her own time. The ladies who came to Flo recognized her potential, and she began making bespoke clothing for them. But that meant she worked for the dry cleaner during the day, then on the contract clothing after supper, often sitting at her sewing machine long into the night. When Michaela was old enough, she’d helped out as best she could, but her mother’s life hadn’t been easy.
Which was why, as soon as Michaela started earning enough money, she’d done her best to make sure Flo never had to strain her eyes long into the night or work a fifteen-hour day. She gave back to her for everything Flo had sacrificed for her.
Her mom clapped her hands excitedly. “Shall we go highly formal or cocktail dresses? Or loungewear?”
Flo’s excitement grabbed hold of Michaela, and they spent the rest of dinner deciding on the new outfits her mother was dying to make.
Sewing was her mother’s happy place, despite all the years she’d had to do it as work.
All Michaela wanted was for Flo to be happy, without a care in the world.
If she had to see the annoying and arrogant Troy Harrington in order to give her mom a lovely evening out, she’d do it.
A horrifying thought struck her. What if his sister consented to be matched? Then how often would she be forced to see Troy?
Even as Michaela’s blood seemed to boil with the thought, a traitorous thrill shot through her at how much she might enjoy it.
Chapter Two
Michaela Killian. Gorgeous, intelligent, business-savvy, goal-oriented. But did she have a sense of humor? She’d scowled when he’d called her Mick, and she hadn’t laughed, not even once during their entire meeting.
Admittedly, he’d pushed some of her buttons by telling her about the bet and asking her to matchmake for his sister.
Worse, she hadn’t noticed him at the coffee shop. It could have bruised his ego if he had one. But he’d never cared what people said. Being in the public eye all those years, he didn’t have the luxury of caring what anyone, from sportscasters to gossip columnists, said. Otherwise, he might have lost his confidence. And you didn’t win Olympic gold medals if you lost your confidence.
That’s what he tried to impress upon the young people whenever he gave one of his talks. You had to believe in yourself and surround yourself with people who believed in you too.
But Michaela Killian had an effect on him.
He lay on a lounger in the June sun after he’d finished his swim. He’d had three diving boards installed when he bought the house six months ago, including a high dive, and he still practiced the skills he’d learned. He didn’t want diving to ever stop being second nature.
But today he’d muffed a dive, his thoughts on the beautiful billionaire matchmaker. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since their meeting this morning. Thank God he’d be seeing her again on Saturday, a few short days away.
She was definitely messing with his mind. And he had things to plan. He was hosting a dinner party for five of his big Bay Area suppliers in a week and a half.
Wow. He’d be going stag to his own party. Maybe he should ask Michaela if she’d like to attend. It was a ridiculous thought. As beautiful as she was, as intelligent and mouthwatering, he had to keep his eye on the goal, which was to win the bet with Gabby. He couldn’t afford to mess with the matchmaker when he needed her to make the best match for his sister.
Stag it would have to be. He was used to it, because he didn’t string women along. He didn’t invite them to weddings—and there’d been a lot of weddings and christenings lately—or family events or dinner parties with his vendors and customers. Nothing that would give anyone ideas.