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.”
Dirk, however, had told him that Michaela Killian had a money-back guarantee. Troy had a feeling Gabby would be such a hard case he’d never have to spend a dime.
At least not on matchmaking. But he sure as heck wouldn’t mind spending time with the beautiful Michaela Killian.
“Can you believe he wants me to matchmake for his sister so he can win some bet about who will fall in love first?” Michaela emphasized the two most horrid ideas in the whole debacle with Troy Harrington.
Then she took the first bite of the lasagna her mother had made for dinner. The flavors burst on her tongue, so good she was tempted to forget her annoyance with the man. Her mom made the best comfort food.
A year after she’d bought the townhome where they both lived, they’d remodeled the kitchen, painting it a cheery yellow and adding a double oven. The room was large enough for a table and chairs, which was good because there was no formal dining room, and no formal living room either. Not that the two of them needed it, since the large family room was more than adequate. The downstairs den played double duty as a home office for Michaela and a craft and sewing room for her mother. With two primary suites upstairs, each had her own full bathroom.
Michaela had only two requirements when buying the house three years ago: a two-car garage so they could both park inside, and a bathtub. So many homes these days had only showers, but Michaela’s biggest luxury was a bath. As soon as she’d seen the soaker tub in one of the bathrooms, she was sold.
Their home might not be as huge as anything Troy Harrington had in the Los Gatos hills, but it was perfect for the two of them.
Oooh, that man. He was too annoying to forget. “Can you imagine how arrogant the man is to want a matchmaker help him win a bet? A million dollars, for goodness’ sake. The loser will have to pay that amount to a charity. It’s crazy.” She allowed herself one piece of the delectable garlic bread.
“But if it’s for charity, isn’t that good?” Her mother smiled as if she didn’t get how annoying and arrogant that Harrington man was.
Her mother was a beauty, inside and out, and she was Michaela’s best friend.
Flo Killian had Michaela when she was very young, not even out of high school, and now she was in the prime of her life at fifty years old. She and Michaela shared the same dark, thick, wavy hair, but Flo kept hers cut fairly short, to give it more bounce, she said. The few silvery strands only enhanced her beauty.
Michaela had always hoped her mother would fall in love again. Her father had left when Michaela was barely a toddler, and Flo spent her life raising her. Michaela made it her mission to give back all her mother had given to her, buying the townhouse and making sure her mom no longer had to work. Not unless she wanted to. Flo was a vibrant woman, with the same green eyes as Michaela’s, though her mother’s were always full of understanding and warmth.
If Flo fell in love, what would Michaela do without her best friend?
