“That’s why I’m paid the big bucks.” Lex laughed. “I prefer assignments like this.”
Most days Blaise’s assigned person did nothing other than see him to the office and back home. He could have easily come here on his own without worry, but his company now required him to travel with at least one bodyguard. “Must be boring when you’re stuck waiting for me to finish working.”
Lex shrugged. “Better than being shot at.”
Maybe boring wasn’t so bad.
“And San Francisco holds a special place in my heart after an assignment here,” Lex added.
The man didn’t offer more information, and Blaise knew better than to ask. He went up to the front desk where two sharply dressed receptionists sat. “I’m here to see Hadley Lowell.”
“Do you have an appointment?” one asked.
“She’s not expecting me until tomorrow.” Not exactly the truth, but Blaise needed to see her. He flashed his most charming smile, the one he used to soothe ruffled investors and captivate supermodels. “I took an earlier flight.”
The receptionist didn’t appear impressed. “What’s your name?”
“Blaise.” He paused, mimicking his favorite secret agent. “Blaise Mortenson.”
The receptionist did a double take. Her mouth dropped open.
The other one gasped.
A billionaire seeking out a matchmaking company might have that effect. Especially if these two women were single.
“Oh. We don’t want to ruin the surprise.” The first woman stood. “Ms. Lowell’s office is down the hall. Take the first two rights. Or I’m happy to show you—”
“Thanks, but I can find it.” Turning toward Lex, Blaise tilted his head toward the couches and chairs on the other side of the lobby. “Wait there.”
Lex studied the area. “Sure, boss.”
As Blaise headed toward the hallway, his cell phone buzzed. He glanced at his screen and was surprised to see a text from Henry.
Henry:You made the right choice flying to SF.
Blaise:How do you know where I am?
Henry:I have my ways. Hadley Lowell is exactly who you need.
Blaise:She better be, given what she’s putting me through.
Henry:Trust me.
Blaise:If you’re wrong…
Henry:I won’t be.
Blaise stopped in front of a door with a small, blink-and-miss-it sign:Matched by Lowell.
Low-key. Not flashy.
The subtle branding didn’t match the woman’s demanding requirements. He would have expected something more on point for her industry. She better be as good as Henry said or…
The door opened, startling Blaise.
A woman stepped into the doorway. She was four inches shorter than him with auburn shoulder-length hair, ivory skin, and pink cheeks. Early to mid-thirties. And gorgeous.
Mouthwateringly so.
