Ms. Match Meets a Millionaire

by Pamela DuMond

  “The Rosseaux Library is enchanting. But you’re not just a library girl to me.” He held out his hand to me and I took it.

  “What are we doing?”

  “Don’t you want to find out?” He led me away from the stacks.

  “Yes.”

  “Marco,” he said.

  “Polo.”

  *

  We climbed the stairs to his two story condo. The brick walls were capped by ceilings with wooden beams. Rich tapestry Indian area rugs in reds and blues and golds covered the burnished maple hardwood floors.

  A large, gleaming, modern wooden desk sat on an angle. I stood next to it and gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows onto the running path that wound around Lake Shore Drive’s S-shaped curve. “Amazing view of the lakefront. Aren’t you worried about people peeking in?”

  “One way windows. I can look out but no one can peer in.” He handed me a crystal short glass filled with amber liquid. “Scotch on the rocks.”

  It was strong in a good way and burnt my throat. No wonder they called it liquid courage. I almost gave into temptation in the library. Now I had half my senses back and it was time to speak up. “I’m working hard to find you the right girl. I, however, am not her.”

  “How is a person I’ve never met going to be better for me than you?”

  “She’ll come from money.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Her family will be more… like yours.”

  “She’ll have a grandmother who hires male strippers?”

  “Maybe.” I swallowed a smile. “She’ll be successful in her own right.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “But I do. The last thing I want is to be perceived as a woman who preys on wealthy men.”

  “No one would ever think that about you.”

  “People always look at a couple and wonder why they got together. If an older man with money marries a young, pretty girl, she’s judged as a gold digger. Rumors are he married a ‘trophy wife.’ When they split—and the majority do—the friends align themselves with the rich person. They excuse the wrongs and turn a blind eye to anything shady.”

  “I’m not shady, Harper,” he said, moving toward me.

  I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. “I didn’t say you were. I’m sorry, that came out the wrong way. Just meet Sophia. She’s pretty and accomplished. Smart and funny.” I leaned back. The edge of the desk pressed into the backs of my thighs.

  “I’m make you a deal.” He stood in front of me, the scruff on the angle of his jaw looking delectable. “You and I hang out until this Sophia person comes back into town. If you still want me to meet her, I will. I’ll send her flowers. I’ll take her on dates to trendy restaurants.”

  “I’m not sure she’s a trendy restaurant kind of girl.”

  “I’ll figure out what she likes. Maybe I’ll make her an omelet.” He leaned in and kissed my ear. Then he ran his tongue along the outer edge of it and nibbled on the lobe.

  His warm, moist breath against my cheek made me shiver. “You say this now. But you won’t stick with the plan. You’re headstrong. You always do what you want to do.”

  “Wrong. I’ll walk away from you. Never flirt with you again. Never impersonate an Italian stripper. You’ll miss Marco when he’s gone.”

  I flushed, warmth emanating from my pores. Maybe it was the scotch. I fanned my face but he captured my hand and held onto it.

  “I’ll never run my hand through your hair just because it feels so silky, so good under my touch.” He ran his fingers through my hair and they slid down onto my shoulder. My breath quickened. “I’ll never kiss your beautiful lips when we make out on top of a desk.”

  “We made out in a private hospital room. We never made out on a desk.”

  “How have we missed that?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  All the hairs on the back of my arms rose as deliciousness coursed through my veins.

  Enough.

  I pushed back at him with both hands. “I’m not some stupid chick you can tease. I’m not a silly little girl for you to play with.”

  “I know that. Otherwise I would have seduced you in the library. I never would have brought you to my apartment.” He leaned in and kissed me. The heat grew between us. He claimed my lower lip with his teeth.

  I ran my hands over his shoulders. Firm. I could feel the muscles flexing under his shirt.

  “You’re not just a library girl to me, Harper. You’re more.”

  I wasn’t supposed to be here with him. He was off limits. But my resolve was crumbling. “Marco,” I said, and held out one hand to him.

  “Polo,” He said, took it, and interlaced his fingers between mine. “Follow me.”

  I gazed up into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Yes.”

  Chapter 29

  Ethan

  *

  It had been over three years since I slept in the same bed with a woman. Last night with Harper had been perfect. This morning was even better. I pulled a crate of eggs out of the fridge and chopped scallions on the wooden board. “It’s Saturday,” I said, “Let’s go see a movie.”

  Harper sat on a bar stool by the granite countertop wearing one of my white dress shirts. Damn, if it didn’t look better on her than me. “We could go see that new spy flick,” she said.

  “It didn’t get great reviews on Rotten Tomatoes. What about the British war movie?”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “Romeo! Oh my God. I totally forgot to feed Romeo. I’m a horrible cat mom. He’s probably been staring at his food bowl for hours.” She jumped off the chair.

  “When’s the last time he ate?”

  “Wet food was before I went to your Grandma’s party last night.” She raced out of the kitchen, disappeared down the hall, and reemerged a minute later fully dressed in her own clothes. “He probably thinks something terrible happened to me.”

  I buttoned up my shirt over my jeans. “I bet he survived.”

  “Where’s my coat? I’ve got to go!”

  I pulled it from the hall closet and helped her on with it.

  “Thanks for a lovely time.”

  I grabbed my parka. “I’m coming with you.”

  *

  I was inside Harper’s third floor walk-up apartment for the first time. It was small and cute. Red and white dish towels hung from the rung on her stove. An Erin Brockovich movie poster graced the wall. Romeo scarfed down wet food as Harper filled his water bowl then placed it on the floor. “He’s traumatized,” she said.

  “He looks okay to me.”

  “You don’t know him the way I do. He never eats when I’m in the room with him. He’s clearly upset that I was gone so long.” She walked into her living room and I followed, her cat on my heels.

  “Disagree.”

  Romeo licked his paw, groomed his whiskers, then stared up at me and blinked. I reached down and rubbed his ears. He ignored me for a few moments, then narrowed his eyes and purred.

  “We’re good,” I said.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting company.” Harper folded the blanket on the side of the couch. She lifted the pillows, plumped them, and placed them back on the sofa in different angles.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Now you know how I live. It’s not Saks. It barely qualifies as Pottery Barn.”

  I surveyed the place. A small, decorated Christmas tree sat in the corner of the living room, a star on top. Framed pictures of Harper next to a middle-aged woman and a young woman who resembled her were assembled on the shelves of the chunky TV cabinet. Stockings hung from decorative ornament holders positioned on top of the cabinet. “Harper” was embroidered on the red one. “Romeo” on the green.

  “I totally understand if you want to pull out of the deal. Cancel the matchmaking contract,” she said. “Seriously, who’s going to trust someone like me to pull off a match for Ethan Rosseaux. What was your grandmother thinking? I wouldn’t want to trust that job to someone who lives in a fre
aking hovel on Chicago’s Southside.”

  “What happened to you? You’re sure of yourself one second, you’re insecure the next. Someone or something undermined you. Made you feel awful. And you bought into it or you wouldn’t say stuff like this.”

  She stopped straightening up and stared at me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not born feeling this bad about yourself. Plenty of people live in tiny places. Plenty of people squeak by month to month. I’m not one of them. God saw fit to grant me different demons. What happened to you?”

  She bit her lip, looking down. “I don’t talk about it.”

  “Never?”

  “Nope,” she said.

  “Okay.” Romeo wove around my feet meowing. “What do we have planned for today?”

  “I have client paperwork, laundry, and house cleaning.”

  “We’re still knee deep in my client emergency.”

  “Your ‘emergency’ was last night.”

  My stomach growled loudly. “Breakfast. We haven’t eaten yet. Let’s go out to eat. Besides, you made a deal. You promised to handle my client 911 until I meet the miraculous Tortilla next week.”

  “Sophia,” she said. “Fine. Give me a few to shower and change.”

  Chapter 30

  Harper

  *

  12 months ago

  *

  I sat across from my mom at Ethel’s Diner, a little hole in the wall in Oconomowoc that she’d been taking me and Callie to for years. A vintage Coca Cola clock hung on the wall next to a chalkboard featuring the daily specials. The café’s owners were a decade or so older than me, but wore vintage-style clothes. It was as if we’d time traveled back to the fifties. “How are things going?” I asked.

  “Obviously we miss you,” Mom said. “I can pry Callie out of your bedroom, you know, should you get the urge to move back in.”

  “Nah.” I slurped my milkshake through a straw. “It’s her room now. What’s the big news?”

  Mom casually fanned her left hand in front of my face. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  I spotted the modest diamond ring on her fourth finger and squealed. “You’re engaged?”

  She beamed and nodded. “Can you believe it? We agreed to just live together for a few years, then all of a sudden, one night he gets down on one knee. I was, ‘What are you doing?’ And he said that he wanted to make it official. Asked me to marry him. Make him the second happiest man in the world. I said yes.”

  “That’s fabulous!” I regarded her quizzically. “Who’s the first?”

  “Some asshat friend of his who won the Powerball a few years ago.”

  I clapped my hands. “Mom. I’m so excited for you!”

  She waggled her fingers and looked at her small, round cut diamond ring with pride. “Who knew after all these years that Mr. Right could come along? I didn’t think this would ever happen.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said, flashing back to Sean and the other night. I drove us home after that horrifying incident, left him passed out in the car in the driveway, and took the keys. I strode inside the house, slammed the door, and turned the bolt. I didn’t know if I was scared or angry. Then it dawned on me that shock had won the day.

  I glanced at the mirror on the wall. My cheek was already swelling, shadowy colors blending into dusky hues. I walked into the kitchen to get some ice when I remembered the spare set of house keys in the fake rock in to the bushes by the porch.

  Damn it.

  I tiptoed out, grabbed the stupid thing, and brought it inside. I dropped it on the hardwood floor where it landed with a hollow thunk.

  At 6 a.m. Sean rang the bell and knocked until I stumbled to the front door. “Let me in!”

  “Screw you,” I said from behind the deadbolt. My brain had tossed and turned the whole night, never quite letting me sink into a solid sleep. I’d gotten up a few times to refresh the ice pack on my face. I’d watched Mom do that a few times when Dad had smacked her around before he left.

  “I’m sorry,” Sean said. “I don’t know what got into me, Harper. That will never happen again. I’m so sorry. Let me in, please.”

  I unlocked the deadbolt and cracked open the door, the chain still on. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Yes,” he said. “But I’m your asshole.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that.” My heart dropped. His eyes had returned to normal. Sweet. Not crazy angry. His blonde hair curled in that funky cowlick. There were a few freckles on his cheeks. In the six months we’d been together he’d wormed his way inside my head and my heart.

  I didn’t know what to believe anymore when it came to him. When it came to us. One day I was walking on solid ground, the next stumbling across the deck of a ship that swayed in a choppy harbor of uncertainty. “I’m moving out.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll help you look for a place. Let me in. Please. I have to take a leak. It’s cold out here.”

  I lifted the chain and it dropped with a tiny metallic ‘clink.’ I walked away and ignored him.

  “Thanks.” he said.

  “Whatever.” I hung out in the kitchen, and scrolled through internet rental listings looking for a new place to live.

  He kept his distance, puttering around the house until after lunch. “I’ve got to stop by my folks’ house. They’d love to see you. Then I’m hitting the new mall in Middleton for cross trainers. Want to come?”

  “No.”

  “Okay,” he said, grabbing his car keys from the counter.

  “Wait. I have to pick up a file at work. Could we stop there on the way?”

  “Sure, Babe.”

  “Give me a minute.” I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I could barely see the bruise. It almost looked like a sunburn. I dabbed on extra concealer.

  We swung by my work where I grabbed the files, then dropped by his folks for a quick coffee and chat.

  “You’re joining us for Thanksgiving this year, right Harper?” his mom asked. “We put on quite a spread.” She poured me a cup of coffee and placed it in front of me on the long, wooden kitchen table. Her kitchen window overlooked a deep yellowing lawn ending at Lake Mendota.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking a sip. “Sweet of you to ask. I promised Mom I’d spend the holiday with her.”

  “Offer stands. We’d love for you to join us,” she said, ripping open a packet of sweetener and adding it to her coffee. “Sean’s a good boy, you know. He means well. One mistake shouldn’t define a person.”

  “Right,” I said, wondering if he’d told his mom what happened.

  We found the runners Sean wanted at a sporting goods store in the new mall and then walked around the place. He bought me a pair of jeans and a pretty pair of earrings. I glanced in the department store mirror when I put them on and could barely see my bruise.

  A few hours of shopping, a steak and lobster meal at a decent restaurant, and ten apologies later, I decided to put it all behind me. It was a one-time thing. Sean was a sensitive man. His parents were kind, smart, caring. They were pillars of the community.

  “Earth to Harper,” mom said, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Did you hear me? I’m hoping you and Callie will be at my wedding. We’ll pick a day and go the courthouse.”

  I needed a distraction. And—bam—it hit me.

  “Mom,” I said. “I’ll plan your wedding!”

  “Nah.” She waved her hand. “I can’t afford that.”

  “Seriously, let me do this.” I grabbed her hand. “We’ll keep it on the cheapy-cheap. Buy flowers off the bloom. Rent a gown. Borrow a venue.”

  “Can I keep the husband?” she asked.

  “Yes! This will be so much fun!”

  “You will always be my darling daughter.” She caressed my face.

  I flinched.

  “What’s wrong? Is that a bruise on your cheek? It is. Why is your cheek bruised?”

  “You know me. I’m a klutz. Kitchen cabinet door was open,
I was talking on my phone, and walked right into it,” I said, without meeting her eyes.

  “Harper…”

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “You’d tell me if you weren’t?”

  “I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” I said with all my heart as I lied through my teeth.

  Chapter 31

  Ethan

  *

  Harper’s bedroom was feminine without being over the top girlie. I grabbed the stuffed Koala from her blue quilted bedspread. “Sorry, buddy.” I tossed him in the corner and lay back on her bed as I checked my phone.

  She walked into the room wearing a cotton robe. Her face was flushed and her skin was glistening from the shower. She toweled off her hair. “You look good there. Except you’re a little big for the room. Maybe even too big for my bed.”

  “I didn’t hear you complaining before about size before.” My appetite for Harper beat out my hunger for food. Jesus, I couldn’t get enough of this woman. “Maybe I’m not hungry anymore.”

  She smiled at me, thin crinkle wrinkles etching the corners of her eyes. My gaze swept from her tousled wet hair down the planes of her neck to her cleavage peeking out from the folds of her robe.

  “Maybe I am.” She sat down on the bed next to me.

  I played with her hair, brushed fingers across her cheek, and her neck. Shivers raced down my spine. “Marco.”

  “Polo.” She smiled.

  “I’ve got a secret.”

  “Tell me.”

  I kissed her gorgeous, pouty lips. “I’m crazy about you, Harper.”

  Chapter 32

  Harper

  *

  Holiday shopping had always been a chore; a sadness. What kind of present could I buy for my mom or Callie with five dollars banging around in my pocket? My budget increased to double digits in my twenties, but—hello inflation—and I was stuck with the same dilemma. I’d never been Christmas shopping just for fun. Today was a first.

  I agreed to accompany Ethan only if we stuck to our deal—no uncomfortable gift giving efforts on either of our parts. We’d keep this transaction clean and easy. We hit Oak Street and toured the trendy shops where he looked for presents for Marte, his parents, and his cousins. I oohed and aahed over the gorgeous clothes and jewelry until he decided to get everyone a sweater from Barneys.