Matched to Her Rival. Kat Cantrell

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      “Nope. My name is very boring.”

      Her mother was the Irish one, with milky skin and glowing red hair that graced magazine covers and runways for twenty years. Brenna Burke, one of the world’s original supermodels, had given birth to a short Black Irish daughter prone to gaining weight by simply looking at cookies. It was a sin of the highest order in Brenna’s mind that Elise had a brain instead of beauty.

      Dax quirked his mouth in feigned disappointment. “That’s okay. We can’t all have interesting stories attached to our names. Where did you grow up?”

      “This is not a date.” The eye roll happened involuntarily, but the exasperation in her voice was deliberate. “I’m asking the questions.”

      “It’s kind of like a date,” he mused brightly as if the thought fascinated him. “Getting to know each other. Awkward silences. Both of us dressed just a little bit more carefully than normal.”

      She glanced down at her BCBG suit, which she’d snipped the tags from that morning. Because red made her feel strong and fierce, and a session with Dax called for both. So what? “This is how I dress every day.”

      Now she felt self-conscious. Did the suit and five-inch stilettos seem as though she was trying too hard?

      “Then I’m really looking forward to seeing what you look like tomorrow.” He waggled his brows.

      “Let’s move on,” she said before Dax drove her insane. “This is not a date, nor is it kind of like a date, and I’m getting to know you, not the other way around. So I can find you a match.”

      “Too bad. A date is the best place to see me in action.” When she snorted, he inclined his head with a mischievous smile. “That’s not what I meant, but since you started it, my favorite part of dates is anticipating the first kiss. What’s yours?”

      She lifted her gaze from his parted lips and blinked at the rising heat in his expression. The man had no shame. Flirting with his matchmaker, whose business he was also trying to destroy.

      “Jedi mind tricks only work on the weak-minded. Tell me more about what you like about dating. It’s a great place to start.”

      He grinned and winked. “Deflection only works on those who graduated at the bottom of their class. But I’ll let it pass this time. I like long walks on the beach, hot tubs and dinner for two on the terrace.”

      Clearly this was slated to be the battle of who had the better psychology degree. Fine. You want to play, let’s play.

      “Why don’t you try again, but this time without the Love Connection sound bite? I didn’t ask what you liked to do on dates. I asked what you like about dating.”

      “I like sex,” he said flatly. “In order to get that, dating is a tiresome requirement. Is that what you’re looking for?”

      “Not really. Plus it’s not true.” His irises flashed from hearth-fire smoke to forest-fire smoke instantly and she backpedaled. “I don’t mean you’re lying. Get a grip. I mean, you don’t have to date someone to have sex. Lots of women would gladly line up for a roll in the sheets with a successful, sophisticated man.”

      Who had a face too beautiful to be real, the physique of an elite athlete and eyelashes her mother would kill for. Not that she’d noticed.

      “Would you?”

      “I don’t do one-night stands.”

      She frowned. When was the last time she’d even been on a date? Oh, yeah, six months ago—Kory, with a K. She should have known that one wouldn’t work out the instant he’d introduced himself as such.

      “There you go. A woman who would isn’t worth my time.”

      Her head snapped back. Was that a compliment? More flirting? The truth?

      “So you aren’t just looking for sex. You want to put some effort into a relationship. Have drinks, spend some time together. And you want to know things about the women you date, their history, their likes and dislikes. Why?”

      He contemplated her as he sat back in his chair, thumb to his jaw, a habit she’d noticed he fell into when she made the wheels in his convoluted head turn. Good.

      “You’re much more talented than I imagined,” he allowed with a jerk of his chin. “I’m so impressed, I’m going to tell you why. It’s so I can buy her something she’d genuinely appreciate and give it to her on our next date.”

      So the woman in question would sleep with him, no doubt. And it probably never failed. “Another example of a considerate man?”

      “Sure. Women like to be treated well. I like women. Ergo, it’s no chore to do my best to make them happy.”

      There had to be something wrong with that, but she couldn’t find the fault to save her life. Plus, the glow from his compliment still burned brightly. “If only all men subscribed to that theory. What do you find attractive in a woman?”

      “Brains,” he said instantly and she didn’t even bother to write that down.

      “You can’t tell if a woman has brains from across the room,” she responded drily. “If you walk into a bar, who catches your eye?”

      “I don’t meet women in bars, and last time I walked into one, I got four stitches right here.” He tapped his left eyebrow, which was bisected by a faint line, and his chagrined smile was so infectious, she couldn’t help but laugh.

      “Okay, you win that round. But I have to note something. Redhead, blonde? Voluptuous, athletic?”

      “Would you believe it if I said I have no preference? Or at least that used to be true.” He swept her with a sizzling once-over that curled her toes involuntarily. “I might be reconsidering.”

      “The more you try to unsettle me, the less it works,” she advised him and cursed the catch in her throat that told him her actual state far better than her words. This was ridiculous and getting them nowhere. “You promised to take this seriously and all I know about you so far is that distraction and verbal sleight of hand are your standard operating procedure. What are you hiding?”

      The flicker of astonishment darting through his expression vanished when a knock sounded on the door. Dang it. She’d hardly begun to dig into the good stuff.

      Elise’s assistant, Angie, stuck her head in and said, “Your next appointment is here.”

      Both she and Dax shot startled glances at their watches. When he hadn’t shown, she’d scheduled another appointment. How had the minutes vanished so quickly?

      He stood immediately. “I’m late for a meeting.”

      What did it say that they’d both lost track of the hour? She nodded. “Tomorrow, then. Same time, same bat channel?”

      He grinned. “You’ve got yourself a date, Ms. Arundel.”

       Three

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