prophecy. But until I walked into this café, I had no idea I’d be facing Megan Williams. The old man never prepared me for her, and I can’t help but think he left the event planner’s name out on purpose. Smart man, because had I known I’d be coming face-to-face with the sweet girl I screwed over in high school, I never would have agreed to any of this.
I’ll never forget the day I met her. It was the summer before our senior year. I was friends with her cousin Sara Duncan, and after Megan’s parents died in a car accident, she moved from Philadelphia to Manhattan to live with her aunt and uncle, who are friends of Granddad’s. Sara introduced us, and just like that I was lost in her and trying hard to keep it platonic. We were pretty inseparable for the rest of the year, then prom night. Jesus, prom night in St. Moritz. She knocked on my door, and when I opened it…
“Alec?”
Shit.
“Sorry, what?”
“If I’m going to fill out your online profile, I have to know what kind of woman you’re attracted to.”
Ah. I need to be careful here. My gaze rakes over Megan, and the frizzy state of her auburn hair, my absolute favorite color. It brings a smile to my face. She always hated it when it rained, but I think her wild locks are adorable. With light brown eyes—the color of a root beer Popsicle—fair skin clear of makeup, save for her pink lipstick, she still has that same girl-next-door look going on.
And that, my friends.
Right there.
Is the kind of woman I’m attracted to.
“I prefer blonde,” I say, and as she nods her head, her drying auburn locks bouncing, she jots it down.
She plants her elbow on the table and rests her chin in her palm. She goes thoughtful for a long time, then blinks her eyes back into focus. “Can I ask something?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to answer,” I say, wanting to be as honest with her as possible, but there are some things I just can’t divulge.
“You date all the time. Thanks to the tabloids, I see the gorgeous women on your arm. Why not one of them? If it’s to be a loveless marriage, and you think women want you for power and money, and they’re probably on your arm because of that, why not just ask one of them to marry you?”
It’s a legit question that deserves an honest answer. I might be a tough negotiator, but deep down I do have morals and I respect integrity as much as the next guy. With Megan, though, I have to be less than forthright with this answer, for her own good.
“The women from my circle aren’t suitable for what I need.”
“How so?”
“They’re glamorous, over-the-top, high maintenance.”
“So, you’re looking for a sweet girl next door?”
“Yeah.”
“The kind of girl you’re not really attracted to,” she says, her voice so low I have to strain to hear it. But before I can answer—and I have no idea how to respond—she blinks up at me. “Does eye color matter?”
I finish my coffee and check the time. If I’m going to have a nice girl in my home, her appearance at least must be the antithesis of Megan’s. Otherwise the daily reminder of what I want and can never have would drive me over the edge. “No, but I do prefer blue.”
I watch her throat work as she swallows, and my insides twist. Jesus, that sad look she’s trying to hide is ripping me wide-open. Hurting her is the last thing I want to do. But it’s also killing me that she looks at me with distaste. Maybe I should put a stop to this. End it now before we go any further.
“Megan,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Look at me,” I command in a soft whisper. Her eyes slowly lift, lock on mine, and as she stares, a bolt of need grips my chest. I fight it down and ask, “Do you really want to do this? We have a history.”
She takes one deep breath, lets it out slowly and lowers her pen. “And that’s exactly what it is, a history.” The chirpiness is her voice contrasts the visible pain in her eyes. “It’s all in the past, where it needs to stay. We’re both adults and both professionals and it comes down to this—you’re not the only one getting something out of this. You see, Alec, once I find you a wife and throw you the best damn wedding Manhattan has ever seen, I’ll be the talk of the town. It will get my business off the ground in a crowded market and skyrocket me into prominence.”
“I guess we’re both doing this to get ahead, then?” I say.
Her brows knit together. “When you put it that way.” She casts her eyes downward for a second. “Looks like we’re not so different after all. I’m scratching your back and you’re scratching mine, so to speak.”
“Tit for tat.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, my gaze once again goes down to take in the curve of her breasts. I catch a hint of white lace, and my dick thickens. I want her. I’ve always wanted her. But am I going to do anything about it? No fucking way. Being around her might just kill me, and I’m going to need a drink, or an entire bottle, by the time we’re done here. Because now that I know what’s in it for her, I can’t walk away and find another event planner. I clear my throat. “Is there anything else you want to know?”
She instantly switches back into professional mode and pulls a laptop from her bag. She sets it between us and boots it up. “Are there any particular dating sites you prefer?”
“Never been on one.”
She clicks a few buttons. “I’ve not had much luck myself—”
“You use dating sites?” Why the hell would a woman like Megan need to use a dating site? She must have men falling at her feet.
“I have in the past,” she admits.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, and glance at the barista, anything to keep my mind off Megan in bed with another man. I have no hold on her. She can date any guy she likes, but goddammit, the thought of any man’s hands but mine on her still bothers me. Eight years later.
“I see the ads for that Match Made in Heaven site all the time,” I say. “Should we try that?”
“It’s a good jumping-off point. If we don’t get any matches, we can set you up elsewhere. Although I’m sure you’ll have a million matches in the first hour.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Look at you,” she blurts out. Her gaze moves from my chest to my face. “Ah, I mean, you’re not bad to look at, and you’re successful. All we need is a catchy bio. Let’s have a look at it, see what other criteria I might need before I set you up.” She points to the seat beside her. “Why don’t you sit here, so we can look at the screen together.”
“Coffee first. We might be here for a while. Do you want something?”
Her gaze slides to her empty cup. “I guess I’ll have another mocha latte.”
She
