The Billionaire and the Matchmake(3)

By: Lacy Andersen


A flush worked its way down his neck and he turned once again to the business at hand. Emily wondered if they’d said too much. Sometimes, her mouth had a habit of running away on her, especially in the presence of a man who resembled a Greek god. It was probably why she was still single.

“I think we have liftoff.” He pushed the panel back into place and messed with one of the dials.

Immediately, the AC started pumping out sweet, cool air. Emily gaped at it, feeling the sweat along her face begin to evaporate. So, he was more than just a handsome face and a power suit after all. That was a good sign. She gave him a grateful smile and reached out a hand.

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you. You’ve saved us all from spontaneously combusting.”

He smiled warmly at her, took her hand in his and stepped closer. “If you tell me your name, that’ll be plenty of payment.”

She tried to suppress a smile. The guy was good. It didn’t seem like he needed much help in the flirting arena. Maybe pairing him wouldn’t be such a chore after all.

“Emily Sevenson. Although I feel like I got the better end of the deal. What did you say your name was?”

“Michael.”

The pad of his thumb brushed over the top of her hand. Blood rushed to Emily’s cheeks and she shivered as his touch sent electricity shooting up her arm. Dropping her hand, she tucked a curl behind her ear and crossed her arms over her torso. A slow smile spread on his face, as if he knew the kind of affect he had on women. Determined not to let him win, she raised her chin and gave him a slight smile.

“We’ll be in contact.”

“Thank you, Emily Sevenson.” His intense gaze lingered on her face for one, long heart-pounding moment. “I look forward to your call.”

“Certainly.”

She leaned against the counter to watch him leave through the glass front door. Lydia hopped up to sit next to her and both ladies sighed as he walked out of view.

“What most woman wouldn’t do to find a man like that,” Lydia said, tapping her expensive gel manicure on the table. “I’m pretty sure he’s a real life unicorn of the dating world. Rich, handsome, and can fix things. The trifecta of mankind.”

“No kidding.”

Emily cocked her head to one side, staring at the space Michael Knight had once occupied. Had it all been a dream? Or a hallucination brought on by the scorching mid-August heat? She fingered his folder on the countertop, verifying that he was indeed real.

“Plus, he was totally into you,” Lydia said with a dramatic sigh, swiping the folder from under her hand. “You should go out with him. Here’s your chance. Take it.”

Emily flushed at the thought. He couldn’t have been into sweaty, rambling her. And besides, it was absurd to think of gaming her own system to pair herself with Mr. Perfect. It would be unethical. She couldn’t do that.

Could she?

“I’m not sure why I mentioned the idea. It’s a lost cause anyway,” Lydia said matter-of-factly, turning on her rear end to hop back off the counter. “Even if he was your perfect match, you’d never know.”

Emily bristled and turned to ask what that meant, but got one look at Lydia’s arched eyebrows and zipped her lips. She knew that look. It meant trouble.

Lydia twirled a pen in her hand and grinned up at her with a challenge flashing in her eyes. “Sort of makes you wish you hadn’t sworn off dating, doesn’t it?”





Chapter Two




Michael arrived at the downtown office building of Linex Investments firm and only spared a single glance up at the sleek, towering high-rise that threw the whole street into shadow. The guard at the door and the woman behind the lobby desk both greeted him with solemn head nods and tight-lipped smiles. He returned their greetings as he buttoned his perfectly tailored steel-gray Tom Ford suit.

His father’s iron grip on the Linex company had permeated every floor with a coldness that chilled new guests when they walked through the door. It was an attitude that had grown the fledgling company into the multi-billion dollar investment firm that would soon be all Michael’s responsibility.

He took the elevator up to the thirteenth floor and was immediately struck by the change in environment. Music pumped through the hall, something that resembled a remixed version of Beethoven’s fifth. The scent of freshly roasted cinnamon coffee hit his nostrils, making him inhale deeply. Exuberant shouting came from the other end of the temporary office spaces. Michael followed the sound, grinning when he found the source.

A man with curly dark brown hair, green eyes, and round cheeks rolled around the empty conference room in his wheel chair. He faced down another competitor in a similar chair, a miniature basketball bouncing beside his wheel. They raced together toward a wastebasket on the other end of the room, shouting as they went. With a loud clang, the ball landed in the trash can and the yelling came to an abrupt end.