“I’m so grateful.” She squeezed his arm, and he glanced at her, that serious look in his eye. And sure, she needed to be careful and had zero desire to stir up anything, but come on. Tonight was her first night of freedom, and a girl was entitled to let her hair down. She’d been playing safe for so long.
She laughed again, tossing her hair behind her ears, only there wasn’t as much as before, which meant it flicked back quicker than expected, straight into her eye. “Ow.”
Jordan snickered. Huh. It looked like she was completely mistaken in thinking he’d ever thought about her in any way other than a brother. Apparently the stress of quitting had made her think all kinds of crazy things!
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thanks so much for bringing me here. You’re the best.”
“I know.”
His characteristic comment drew another chuckle as her eyes were drawn to a party entering the room below. But unlike her and Jordan, these people clearly had reservations, escorted as they were to the special golden table. She peered at them, seated a level down. One of the men glanced up, his dark hair looking like he’d been styled by David Beckham’s hair guru, and met her gaze.
A ripple of awareness creased her chest, and she knew an inkling to pull back, to hide, but resisted. She had just as much right to be here as he did. He stared at her, and she raised her brows. He smirked, elbowed the man next to him, who swivelled to look up. And that did draw her back.
“What is it?” Jordan asked.
“Nothing.” Or maybe something. But it felt disloyal to mention a handsome man to Jordan when she was here tonight with him. Some might think Jordan handsome, but he’d never been her ideal of the epitome of attractiveness. And while that might make her sound shallow, she had to be honest. And that man below had certainly been enough to tempt her to want to know more.
Jordan peered over the balcony then shrugged as a waiter placed a plate of arancini on their table, pointing to the entrée. “Look what I got you.”
“See? The best.”
He smiled, and for a second she wondered if maybe all these years she’d been wrong. Maybe it was the candlelight, but something flickered in his eyes. Were her sisters right and Jordan Knight did hold something for her? No. That was foolishness, and likely the result of a day of too many high emotions.
She popped in the arancini, nearly moaning at the deliciousness.
“You like?”
“I love it. I love all of it. This is the life that I was made for.”
He eyed her again, but she averted her gaze, looking out across the well-dressed crowd. That group of lithe ladies looked like ballerinas. Were they the ones performing the newSwan Lakeproduction? That group of men and diamond-wearing women looked like they were used to this kind of lifestyle. Oh, how she wanted to be someone like that too. Her sisters would claim it was very antifeminist of her, but yes, she’d like to have someone shower her with compliments and jewellery and treat her like a queen.
And for all his good qualities, Jordan wouldn’t do that. He was her best friend. He’d never shower her with compliments but insisted on speaking the truth. He could never be boyfriendmaterial, let alone her Mr. Right. And she should know. Because as of today, she was flying solo as the chief executive officer of one of the world’s best dating app services. Which meant Dean Donwell was correct. EJ was now a professional matchmaker, earning her living from her app. Which meant she should know a thing or two about love. And there was no way on God’s green earth that Jordan Knight wouldeverbe someone she’d think about like that.
Unlike that man in the restaurant.
Jordan had known EJ all his days, but she’d never seemed so high on life before. He smiled, glad to have finally helped her accomplish one—wait, now it was two—of her dreams. One: finally trusting herself enough to ditch her job and launch into the career she’d been made for. And two: finally bringing her here to eat at the Opera House, even if it wasn’t in the super-fancy restaurant part. At least she’d gotten a taste of the high life she obviously craved.
Movement caught his eye, and a dude who was far too good-looking for his own good—and looked like he knew it—strolled to the bar. The dude glanced across in their direction, and Jordan realised EJ was watching him.
He nudged her. “Do you know him?”
“No.”
Jordan’s gaze narrowed as the guy nodded. Who was he nodding at? He glanced back at EJ, who seemed a little flustered, cheeks flushed, fiddling with her empty glass. “Are you sure you don’t know him? He looked like he was nodding to you.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never seen him before tonight.”
Hmm. That implied she’d at least noticed him earlier; otherwise, she’d simply say she’d never seen him before.Seriously? Disgruntlement rose. EJ was here with him and checking out another guy? This mightn’t be a date, but still, this was so not how he’d imagined the night going.
She blinked and angled her body so she couldn’t see the bar and its patrons. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” That strange look from before disappeared as her attention returned fully to him, easing his tight heartstrings. “So, tell me what you’re going to do now. You finally got your wish and made me quit.”
“Hey, that wasn’t my wish. Not for me, anyway. I just knew that as long as you were tied up with Donwell things, you’d never have the time or headspace to do what is your first love.”
“Dream Match.” She sighed. “I still can’t believe it’s actually happening.”
“I still can’t believe that we’ve reached this point without much of an office or massive team.”
“Right? It feels insane.” She pushed the plate holding the last arancini ball at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to work for me?”
