seat.
“What I am is the widowed man living at 4255 Mockingbird Lane who watched his wife die a slow and agonizing death from cancer. What I am, Miss Daniels, is a man who wants to be left the hell alone by people like you who have the audacity to try to put a price tag on something that’s beyond monetary value.
“True Love, Incorporated.” He sneered. “You ought to be arrested for fraud. You don’t know the first thing about true love. If you did, you’d realize it can’t be packaged and sold like cereal in some grocery store.”
Her face bleached of what little color it had. In a shaky whisper, she replied, “I’m so sorry. H-how long ago did you lose your wife?”
He backed up a step, crossed his arms again. “It was three years in May.”
“That’s a long time.”
“It’s an eternity.”
“Have...have you dated at all since then?”
He glared at her and said with a certainty he did not feel, “I have no reason to date. There’s no one I’d be interested in meeting.”
“How can you be so sure?”
How? He twirled the band that encircled the third finger with the thumb of his left hand. The gesture was comforting, familiar, affirming.
“I’ve already had my ‘true love,’ Miss Daniels. There’s not another one out there.”
Despite his intentionally surly tone, the woman faced him calmly, reminding him again of that loathe-some therapist his sister-in-law had badgered him into seeing.
“I’ve read that those who love deeply once are more likely to love deeply again. Who’s to say there’s not someone else who could make you happy? You’re a young man, Mr. Foley. Surely you don’t plan to spend the rest of your life alone?”
Young or not, that’s precisely what he planned—until just recently. Guilt nipped him again. “Let me guess. You think you can help me find the perfect woman.”
“That is my business.” One finely arched eyebrow lifted, tugging that intriguing little mole along with it. “Care to let me try?”
“No.”
“Why not? If you don’t believe in my service, what do you have to worry about?”
It wasn’t quite a dare, but it seemed awfully close. He narrowed his eyes. “What’s in it for you?”
“Nothing, really. I’ll even waive my usual fee. Call it a goodwill gesture.”
Good will, my butt, Cam thought. But two could play her game, and he was curious just how far she would go with her little matchmaking scheme. Make the stakes high enough, and she would back down.
“All right,” he said slowly, stalling so he could think. “But let’s sweeten the pot with a deadline. Forget true love, I’ll give you until...Valentine’s Day to find me a woman worth a second date. If you succeed, I’ll pay you twice your normal fee. Heck, I’ll even do a testimonial if you want.”
“And if I fail?”
She wasn’t backing down, he realized. Time to tighten the screws. Cam leaned forward, offered his most carnivorous smile. “If you fail, you’ll take out a full-page ad in the Traverse City Record-Eagle admitting you’re a lousy matchmaker, admitting, Miss Daniels, that you are a fraud.”
That should do it, he thought, as he watched her eyelids flicker in shock.
“That would destroy my business.”
“If you believe in your service, what do you have to worry about?” he said, parroting her earlier comment.
Her lips thinned, settling into a tight line. He knew he had her. She wouldn’t agree, which suited him fine. He had no desire to be fixed up with strange and probably desperate women. Feeling magnanimous, he decided a heartfelt apology on her part would suffice. As well as a solemn promise to take his name off her business’s mailing list.
But then she stuck out her scarred right hand.
“You have a deal, Mr. Foley.”
Maddie rather liked the way her announcement caused Cameron Foley’s mouth to slacken in surprise. Opened or closed, it was a nice mouth, the bottom lip slightly fuller than the top one. But there was nothing soft about his features, nothing that could be called feminine. Cameron Foley was all man, from the slight stubble that shaded his strong jaw to the clearly defined muscles of his forearms. He reminded her a little of the actor Dennis Quaid, ruggedly masculine, cocky, just a bit reckless. And incredibly sexy. The unexpected direction of her thoughts shocked Maddie. In her line of work, of course she noticed such details about men. But this wasn’t some mere clinical observation—the little tug of attraction was as unmistakable as it was unwelcome and pointless. She lowered the hand that he had yet to shake and fiddled with a paper clip while she waited for him to find his voice.
Finally, he said hoarsely, “I do?”
To lighten her own mood she quipped, “Practicing for the wedding already?”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he bit out, his face darkening like a thundercloud. “I’m not looking for another wife. No one can replace Angela.”
“Please forgive me. I was only teasing, but it was in extremely poor taste. You’re right. No one will ever hold that same place in your heart.” Her tone earnest, she continued, “But perhaps I can introduce you to someone whose company you’ll enjoy. Someone you’ll want to take out on that second date. So, do we still have a deal?”
Maddie wasn’t sure why she felt so compelled to help him. She had far more to lose than he did. But something about Cameron Foley tugged at her, making her want to reach out. Perhaps it was because despite all of his angry denials, he seemed so lonely.
He hesitated a moment, looking torn, before giving a jerky nod. And Maddie got the feeling that even though he’d been the one to set the terms, his participation in their wager would be begrudging at best. Well, the race went to the swift, so Maddie pulled her chair closer to the desk and booted up the computer.
“Terrific. I’ll need to gather some background information. Standard stuff like date of birth, height, weight, health history, that kind of thing. If you’ll take a seat we can get started.”
He backed up a step. “I don’t have time for that today. Driving into the city for this little discussion has put me behind schedule as it is. Some of us have real work to do.”
Ignoring the insult, she said, “Tomorrow, then?”
“Busy. Sorry.” He tucked his hands in the front pockets of a pair of well-worn jeans, looking not the least bit contrite.
The chair’s upholstery creaked as Maddie leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk. “Do you plan to win this bet by default, Mr. Foley? I realize Valentine’s Day is nearly eight months away, but that’s not a lot of time. It will be a few weeks before I even have your video and background ready.”
“No video.”
“No
