Evening With the Enemy: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (#MatchMade Book 1)

by Emma Tharp

  He nods, waving his hand at me. "Sure, but it has to be quick."

  Instead of sitting, I pace back and forth in front of his desk. "I'm not going to be able to write the piece about the dating site."

  "Would you sit down? You’re giving me anxiety."

  Reluctantly, I do as I'm asked. "The site matched me up with Lily Beck. She works here."

  "So, what's the problem?"

  Tapping my foot on the floor, I wring my hands together. Brantley is a very smart man. How can he not see this? "Well, isn't it obvious? This goes against the interoffice dating policy."

  He leans in, placing his forearms on the desk. "We’ll make an exception."

  I let out a loud, throaty laugh. "Shouldn't I be the rule, not the exception?" The man knows me and should know what he's getting himself into.

  Brantley stares at me, clicking the top of his pen over and over again. "Lily is kind, intelligent, and a beautiful woman. I don't know why you wouldn't want to go out on a date with her. It's happening. End of discussion."

  "But…"

  Brantley throws the pen down and raises a finger. "Nope. This conversation is over. I look forward to reading your piece."

  My chest tingles in a strange, constricting way. I’m royally screwed. Standing, I walk toward the door. "Okay. Don't worry. It'll be great." I say it with as much confidence as I can muster, but it sounds lame even to my own ears.

  Walking back to my office, the burger I ate for lunch churns in my gut. This is going to be an epic disaster.

  As if my day couldn't get any worse, I find my intern, Dylan, standing in my office looking like Chester, the little dog cartoon that runs around trying to please the much larger bull dog, Spike.

  "Hey, Mr. VanDoren. Why the long face?"

  Don't get me wrong, Dylan is a good kid who hangs on my every word, but sometimes it's too much. Today, I’d prefer to wallow alone in self-pity, but since he’s here… "I'm screwed," I tell him as I plunk down in my chair behind my desk.

  "Anything I can help you with?"

  I put my head in my hands, still trying to find a way out of this. "I don't think so. I have to go on a date with someone as an assignment. I signed up for a dating site and somehow they found a way to match me."

  Dylan takes the seat across from my desk and runs his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. "What's wrong with that?"

  "I don't date," I say flatly. I prefer hookups.

  Dylan's eyebrows scrunch together. "Why not? Dating is great."

  "I don't want the hassle." I don't get into all the details, like how most women want to date me for my money. That's why I changed my last name. Anyone that hears my real last name, Gambina, associates me with my family’s money. "Honestly, I don't want to get married, and I really don't want to have kids. I think I’m a great uncle, but I'm not interested in what most women expect from a relationship."

  Dylan's eyes light up and he gets a goofy grin on his face, all toothy and happy. "I'm still with my high school sweetheart and we’re dating long distance. As soon as I graduate, I plan on moving in with her and proposing."

  I shake my head. He has to be about ten years younger than me. He's clearly not as jaded by the world. Yet. "So, you aren’t a commitment-phobe."

  "No. But just because you go out on a few dates doesn't mean you have to get married."

  Sitting back, I cross my ankle over my knee. "Maybe you have a point."

  "Just go for it. The system could work. You could be happy."

  I steeple my fingers together and glare at Dylan. "Are you saying I’m not happy?"

  Wincing, he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

  "Well, what did you mean?"

  He lets out a heavy breath and puts a finger under the collar of his shirt, loosening it. "I'm sorry if I'm overstepping, but maybe if you went out on a couple of dates, you might be less tense. You could have a good time."

  Well, well. Isn't this telling? Sure, I have been tense lately, but I didn’t realize anyone else could see it. And it’s been forever since I’ve enjoyed the company of a woman. "Okay. You've convinced me. I’ll give this a try."

  Dylan's face is a mask of relief as he sags back in the chair. "Good."

  It's not like I even have a choice. Now, I have to figure out how I'm going to broach the topic of asking Lily out on an actual date. The thought makes me cringe.

  Five

  Lily

  With every click of my heels on the tile floors of the Enchant offices, my stomach twists further into knots.

  I've had the results of my match for a couple of days now, yet I haven't heard from Oliver and I'm sure he knows that we've been matched. Since he's the guy, I assumed he would've reached out first, yet he hasn't. He probably doesn't want to date me either.

  I haven't laid eyes on Oliver since I opened the big red envelope with his profile inside. The thought of seeing him now makes me cringe, but today there's a mandatory meeting at Enchant. Sadly, I know I'll be running into him. The knots twist tighter in my belly.

  My fingers and toes tingle as I open the door to the conference room. I do a quick cursory glance around the room and am relieved not to see Oliver.

  My usual seat toward the front of the table is open. I sit down and open my notebook to an empty page. Fidgeting with my pen, I do my best to steady my breathing. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. It isn't like me to let a man make me anxious.

  The more I think about it, the more I realize it's trepidation. This whole thing is going to be a disaster and I'm dreading every minute of it. We can barely make it through an ordinary staff meeting without bickering. How is an actual date going to turn out? There could be actual bloodshed.

  Checking my watch, I see the meeting should be starting in two minutes. Brantley never starts a meeting late.

  Oliver isn't coming. It’s almost liberating. Easing back in my chair, I close my eyes for a moment.

  A sudden waft of black cherry and amber skirts past my nose. I ease open my eyes and nearly jump out of my chair as Oliver takes the seat next to me.

  "Hey.” He leans in and says.

  There’s no time to react before Brantley clears his throat and starts the meeting.

  "Can we talk?" Oliver whispers, bringing his mouth closer to my ear.

  I can't help the shiver that races up my spine, but I shush him. A meeting isn't the time or place to chat.

  He takes the hint and moves into his own personal space.

  Good, now I can breathe. Sort of. Taking notes, I try to focus on everything Brantley is saying, even though I find it increasingly difficult with Oliver this close to me. I’ve never had this reaction to him before and it's disturbing that I'm letting him throw me like this.

  He's in a pair of navy tailored pants that fit him perfectly, highlighting his long, strong, toned quadriceps. Out of the corner of my eye, I take in the crisp white shirt he's wearing, turned up at the elbows, baring the smooth skin of his forearms. I’ve never noticed before how big his hands are, or his long fingers. I wonder if it's true, what they say about long fingers?

  I snap out of my reverie when Oliver passes me a small slip of paper.

  Shit. Did he catch me checking him out?

  I give him a sidelong glance and wrinkle my nose. Opening the paper, I can't help raising an eyebrow.

  Will you go out on a date with me? Yes or no? Circle one.

  Cute. I guess. This might be the first endearing thing Oliver has ever done—or the most awkward. I can't help but snicker, circle yes, and hand him back the paper.

  "Excuse me.” Brantley clears his throat. "Lily and Oliver, do you have anything you'd like to share with us?"

  My cheeks flame and I would love to crawl under the table. I shake my head and Oliver says no.

  Something about the interaction with Oliver sends a burst of adrenaline through my veins. I'm going to go out on a date with Oliver VanDoren. Certainly, this burst of energy isn’t because of excit
ement. It has to be more nerves than anything. I highly doubt that this will go well. The best I can hope for would be a relatively painless date with no bloodshed.

  When the meeting comes to a close, the room slowly clears out. I take my time organizing my belongings and put them back in my bag. Since Oliver left his little note on the table, I shove it in my bag as well.

  I can feel Oliver's eyes on me, taking in my every movement. My stomach tightens in response.

  "I think there should be alcohol involved. Want to meet for drinks? Then if all goes well, maybe we could go to dinner…" He moves in closer so none of our co-workers can hear him. There isn’t much room to breathe. Damn, he smells good.

  I turn my attention to him and am drawn to the multiple shades of chestnut and caramel in his eyes. It’s frustrating how handsome he is.

  "Or we could go to a dance club. Because, you know, there's alcohol," Oliver says, giving me a crooked grin.

  He’s crazy if he thinks I’m going to be another notch on his bedpost just because I’ll be drinking. But, on the other hand, going on a date with him without liquid courage is way too daunting. “You don’t strike me as a dancer.” The thought of him, so stiff and refined, busting a move at a dance club is laughable.

  Oliver tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “Guilty as charged, but again, alcohol.”

  “I see a theme here.” It looks like neither one of us wants to face this date sober. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but it doesn’t matter. We have to get through it somehow. “Let’s just start with drinks.”

  Six

  Oliver

  "Well, that seemed slightly awkward, but maybe a little hot," Dylan announces and closes my office door behind him.

  "Was it that bad?" I tilt my head back and rub the bridge of my nose. I already know the answer. Asking Lily out was a total disaster. I wrote her a note like a middle-schooler. It couldn’t have been much worse.

  Dylan perches at the edge of my desk. "It wasn't, but I knew what was going on. I paid special attention."

  "Well, she accepted the date, after all." I try to inject some confidence in my tone, even though I'm completely lacking it inside.

  This really isn't like me. I hate this unsure and uneasy feeling. It's not what I’m used to when I ask someone out. Normally, I'm confident and self-assured. The last woman I took out, what was her name—Tonya, or Tammy. Wait, no, I think it was Trisha. It doesn’t matter. All I had to do was swipe my screen, we met up for a cocktail, and ended up in the sack. Simple. Easy. None of this awkwardness and uncertainty.

  It’d help if I actually wanted to date Lily. I don’t. She’s the type of woman who probably wants romance and candles. Things I don’t do. I’m sure she also wants to get married and have a house full of kids. No thanks.

  "What do you plan to do on your date? Mini golf, a picnic, or something more traditional like a movie?" Dylan asks, pushing his bushy hair away from his face.

  I shrug, completely unsure of how any of this should go. I'm a fish out of water. “I think the only safe bet is to get drinks. We're going to need lots of alcohol."

  "A couple of drinks is okay, but do you really think it's a good idea to get hammered?" He’s scowling at me as if he's an angry parent and I've just gravely disappointed him. "If you get her too drunk, things could get very messy."

  That can't happen. "I have to take her out on three dates. If we blow it on the first one and things get out of control, Brantley will have my ass!"

  Dylan tilts his head back and chuckles, laughing at my quandary. "You really don't have the slightest clue when it comes to dating, do you?"

  "What I've been doing works for me." My tone has a defensive note. But he's definitely right when it comes to dating in the traditional sense. I'm fucked.

  He rolls his eyes, something I’ve never seen him do before.

  "You act as if you understand dating. I don't buy it. You've been with the same girl since high school."

  "How do you think I've kept her as my girlfriend this long? We've been dating the entire time. I continue to woo her, even though we're in a long-distance relationship. I love her and I don't want to lose her."

  "What does that mean exactly? She expects you to buy her chocolates and roses all the time?" I'm such a novice at this.

  "It's not about buying her things, even though from time to time I do. It's about gestures. A good morning text, a little note to let her know I'm thinking of her, complimenting her beauty. Women love that." He says it with such confidence, I believe him.

  "All right. What do you suggest I do? The date has to be successful, so she will accept two more dates with me." I know I can’t take her home for a romp between the sheets, which is a shame because I’d definitely sleep with her.

  "Why don't you take her to a nice restaurant, order a good bottle of wine, and share it, but only one." He raises an eyebrow. "Keep the conversation flowing by asking her questions about herself. And then, if she inquires about you, answer. At the end of the evening, drive her home and say good night."

  "No nightcap?"

  He wags a finger in my direction, showing his extreme disapproval. "No, no nightcap. I know she's a beautiful woman and you're probably attracted to her, but be a gentleman. It's your first date. Remember, you need to have three dates in the books."

  I sit back and nod, tapping my fingers under my bottom lip. Lily is gorgeous, but an attraction to her would be the death of me. That I know for sure.

  There's a loud, crisp knock on my door.

  I shrug at Dylan and call out, "Come in."

  Brantley steps inside the door and walks directly to my desk, tapping it three times with his knuckles. "Checking in. You and Lily were disruptive during the meeting. What does that mean for your assignment? Have you been out on a date yet?"

  I sit up straighter and clear my throat. Before I get a chance to speak, Dylan excuses himself, running out the door like my office is on fire. He gives me an impish grin before he shuts the door behind him. I'm going to have to reprimand him later for leaving me here alone with Brantley.

  "Lily and I have arranged our first date."

  Brantley doesn't sit in Dylan's vacated seat. No, he decides to tower over me so he can stare me down. "Good. I have plans for this piece. I’ll be very disappointed if you mess it up."

  I wonder what his plans are. Clearly, he's not going to tell me. And now he’s turning up the pressure on this assignment like a vise grip around my neck. "Don't worry, Brantley. It's going to be great." I surprise myself with how confident I sound, despite the stiff, steady rhythm of my racing heart.

  Brantley tugs down the hem of his suit jacket, straightening it. "Okay then. Don't make me regret putting you on this assignment." He turns and marches out the door.

  I sink down in my chair and rest my face in my palms. It's time for me to put my big boy pants on and step it up.

  This is going to be more difficult than I had originally thought. But I have a job to do and my work is never half-assed.

  Seven

  Lily

  The second I make it back to the #MatchMade offices and drop my bag on my desk, Savannah rounds the corner and is right there by my side. She knew I would be seeing Oliver today at the meeting and judging by the way she’s bouncing up and down on her tiptoes, she's ready to grill me.

  "How did it go? I'm dying to know if he asked you out." Her eyes are big circles, hungry for information.

  "He gave me this." I tug the note out of my bag and hand it to Savannah. "He looks like a man, but he's clearly a boy."

  Savannah scans the note, and her face lights up. Then, she squeals.

  I stare at my friend, in her perfectly done makeup and formfitting pink suit, and wonder why the hell she’s so excited.

  "Why aren't you thrilled?" Savannah asks, her eyebrows pinched together in complete confusion. We seem to be on opposite ends of the spectrum on our opinions of Oliver and this note.

  "I can't believe I have anything in
common with this guy. Despite that, I accepted his offer and we’re going out for drinks, maybe dinner."

  "Let's have a seat." Savannah's face is serious as she sits down on the small Ikea couch in my office.

  I take the seat next to her and my heartbeat quickens. This must be important. "What's going on?"

  Savannah cups her hands in her lap and leans in. "Let me explain to you why the two of you were matched. There are key traits that make people compatible."

  Of course this makes sense, but I can't imagine how Oliver and I have any similarities. "Okay."

  "Believe it or not, you share common values, three of which make for a strong relationship."

  A laugh escapes my lips. This has to be a joke. Maybe I'm being Punked. "You're kidding, right?"

  She shakes her head and holds her arms in an open position. "Nope. You know how seriously I take this."

  Guilt washes over me. This is Savannah's livelihood and I don't want her to think that I don't respect her and what she does. "I'm sorry. This is just hard for me to believe. But go ahead, finish what you were saying."

  She gives me a warm, knowing smile. This woman knows me better than most people in my life and I need to trust her. "You and Oliver both want the same general things from life. You have the same views on marriage, children, and money. And these three are a very good start. A solid foundation."

  I tug on my ear, and my mind races. I'm conflicted because those things are true, so maybe we are compatible. I've never had an in-depth conversation with the man. "I'm only really a fan of football and hockey."

  "They are sports."

  "Okay. And he doesn't want kids, probably because he is one." I do my best to poke holes in this.

  "Stop. Try to keep an open mind."

  An open mind about Oliver? Ha ha. "I'll do my best. What do you think I should wear on the date?" Savannah is the queen of fashion and I’m ready for a change in topic.

  "Where are you going?"

  "I don't know." I tug my phone out of my purse and send Oliver a quick text. He's quick to reply. "A sports bar."