The Billionaire and the Matchmaker
Billionaire Matchmaker
Book 1
Lacy Andersen
The Billionaire and the Matchmaker
Copyright 2018 by Lacy Andersen
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
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First Edition
Cover by Josephine Blake of Covers and Cupcakes
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Billionaire and the Matchmaker (Billionaire Matchmaker, #1)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
The Billionaire and the Waitress Excerpt
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Chapter One
Emily Sevenson was the kind of matchmaker who knew how to find a diamond in the rough for her single clients. She had a talent for it. At only twenty-eight years old, she ran her own business, owned her own car, and managed to find love for her clients. But what she couldn’t do was fix the ancient window air conditioning unit in her crumbling office.
“You know, paperwork would be a lot less daunting if it wasn’t as hot as Hades in here,” Lydia said behind the counter with a droll British accent.
Emily’s part-time secretary, coffee-runner, and full-time best friend, was full of complaints today. She had a severe A-line cut of her straight black hair and skin that glistened with a dark summer’s tan. Her mocha colored eyes were quick to spot a fashion deal, as exhibited by her designer sandals, patent leather black skirt, and white silk blouse, all of which she scored on sale.
Sweat trickled down Emily’s back and under her bra, making her pluck at her wet blouse for an ounce of comfort. Her golden curls stuck to her forehead and the eyeshadow she’d put on that morning had melted above her blue eyes. She pounded on the window air conditioner with the handle of a screwdriver, cursing the maintenance man she’d had out just yesterday to look at the beast.
“I’m trying my best here, Lyd, but you know that technology and I don’t mix.” She stood back to glare at the machine and willed it to return to life, but it continued to cough out hot air.
“If only you had a big, strong man around to fix things like that,” Lydia said with a teasing smile, chewing on the end of a pen. “Someone who looks good shirtless and with a tool belt. You could break things on purpose just to get him to come around.”
“I don’t need to break things on purpose,” Emily said through gritted teeth. She glanced around at the small office. “Things are breaking left and right. And you know that’s not going to happen.”
“It’s not against the rules to dip your finger in the honey pot once in a while.” Lydia leaned forward on the counter. She fixed Emily with a wicked grin and licked her lips. “You are a matchmaker after all. Match yourself up with a hunk and live out the rest of your days in delirious happiness. It’s what your mother would’ve wanted.”
Emily sighed. She missed her mother something fierce. It had been over a year since breast cancer had claimed the only relative she had left, save for her deadbeat father who disappeared when she was ten and never came back. Now, she was left to carry on the family business that had started to crumble in the world of online dating and hookup apps.
“Not happening, Lydia.” She glared at her and pursed her lips. “Remind me what it is that I pay you for again?”
“To keep you from disappearing completely in your work,” she replied with a smirk. “Without me, you wouldn’t have a life.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Emily shook her head. “How could I forget?”
The door to the office sprang open behind her at that moment, bringing with it a rush of a hot summer’s breeze. Emily wiped the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead and turned to greet the newcomer. Instead, she froze as a man dressed in an expensive three-piece suit sauntered into her domain. He had a full head of dark brown hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and dark chocolate eyes that confidently scanned the room.
Her mind immediately painted him as a rich boy. Someone born into money and privilege who thought the world owed him a favor. She’d worked with a lot of men like that. They were always the worst to pair. Easy on the eyes, but hard on the heart. If he was here to hire her services, he’d have to learn quickly that money didn’t buy real love.
His intense gaze landed on her and in that moment, Emily was reminded of the fact that she probably resembled a melting wax figure. She lifted her curly blonde hair off her wet neck and fanned herself, praying to the heavens for the tiniest breeze. The air conditioner sputtered, causing a spark of hope to spring alive in Emily’s chest, only to return to its hateful habit of spewing out hot air.
“It’s hot out there, but it’s boiling in here,” he announced, a cocky grin spreading on his face. He leaned one hand on the door frame and tugged at the tie around his neck. “Seems like a bad time of year to open up a sauna.”
She tried not to roll her eyes at the newcomer’s joke. Judging by her current need of a cool shower, they were well aware of the fact. But she could tell the heat was beginning to affect her mood. She wasn’t usually this cantankerous — at least, not after a cup of coffee. With an inhale, she gave him a sweet smile.
“Welcome to Sevenson Selective. I don’t suppose you’re here for a date?”
“A date?” Confusion clouded his face and he dropped his arrogant pose.
“Yes...” Lydia leaned over the counter and arched an eyebrow at him. “We are a matchmaking company, after all.”
“Oh, yeah.” He walked over to her and quickly handed over the manila folder he’d stashed beneath his elbow. Emily couldn’t help but notice his shiny Italian leather shoes. Yet another factor pointing toward rich frat boy. “I was just dropping off my application.”
“Perfect.” Lydia snatched the folder from his hand and opened it. “Michael Knight. Thirty-three years old and works in investments?”
Michael buttoned his suit jacket and smirked. “That’s me.”
Lydia didn’t look up as she thumbed through the pages. “Hmmm...interesting. I see here you’ve got a younger sister. That could help. I’m not so certain about that dating history, though. Looks like your last serious relationship was five years ago?”
If she was going to keep their new client from running away, Emily had to do something quick. She leaned over the counter and swiped the folder from Lydia’s hands, holding it tight to her chest.
“Wonderful. Thank you for choosing us for your matchmaking needs,” she recited, a forced smile on her face.
“Of course.” He gave h
er a frown and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve got to admit, I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“No worries.” She placed a hand on his arm to reassure him, but ended up marveling at the bulge of his biceps instead. He probably had a full-time trainer on staff to look like that. Dropping her hand, she gave him a tight-lipped smile. “We’ll enter you into our system and give you a call as soon as we have a potential match. No need to be nervous. We’ve done this a million times. You can count on us.”
“Thank you, that’s reassuring.” He smiled at her again, revealing a mouth full of perfectly straight, white teeth.
She tried her hardest not to look him over, searching for flaws. Lydia called it her quick reject scanner. Surely, a man like that had to have some serious ones if he was coming through her door, besides being rich. A commitment phobe? A secret hoarder? At that moment, she couldn’t care less. He was business that she desperately needed.
“Sorry about the heat,” she said, leaning casually on the counter. Her scanner was still working in the background, taking in his deceptively cool demeanor. Here she was, melting like a Popsicle on the sidewalk and he was in a full suit looking as suave as could be. The man had super powers. “I just had maintenance out, but they said nothing was wrong.”
With a deep chuckle, he pointed at the AC. “Mind if I take a look? I can’t promise results, but I used to take stuff like this apart when I was a kid.”
A smile quirked on Emily’s lips. She nodded her head and handed him the screwdriver, their fingers brushing for a moment. He didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. Maybe he wasn’t such a stuck-up snob after all.
“I like when I get the chance to work with old tech,” he said, prying a panel from the front of the AC with the screwdriver. “Nothing like them these days.”
“Yeah, nowadays you’ve got the fancy systems that you control with your phones.” She stood next to the AC and leaned against the wall in what she hoped was a totally professional and cool pose. The trickle of sweat that dropped from her nose killed that dream fast. “I prefer simpler times. No remote controlled AC systems, no smart phones, and definitely no dating apps.”
She laughed at her own joke while the mysterious man chuckled and kept his eyes glued to the inner components of the AC.
“I suppose dating apps are hard for business?” he asked, fiddling with a wire.
“Everyone wants to swipe right, swipe left today.” She leaned her head back against the wall and grimaced. “No one realizes the actual talent it takes to build a solid match. It’s not just about a photoshopped head-shot and a few quirky words on your profile. Those relationships are lucky to survive a one-night stand. My business has decades, if not hundreds of years of experience pairing up couples. It’s an art. Something those apps will never be able to bottle and manufacture.”
“Is that so?” He broke his concentration to look at her, amusement dancing in his brown eyes. “You really think your system is that good?”
“I guarantee it.”
“We used to be the spot for the rich and elite to find their match, too,” Lydia added loudly from across the room. “It’s hard to find someone to spend your life with if you can’t tell who’s after your money and who actually wants to be with you. Emily’s mother knew how to spot the fakes.”
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 miniat
ure 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.
“Five bucks, pay up Smithy,” the competitor demanded with a grin.
“Next time, I’m taking you down,” Smithy said with an overly dramatic grimace, pulling out his wallet and handing over the green.
His competitor grinned and stood up from the wheel chair, pocketing the money as he walked through the door past Michael. Smithy spun himself around and stopped when he realized he wasn’t alone.
“Dude, any chance we can convince your dad to put in a full court somewhere in the building?” He grinned, his face flushing red.
“Let me think about that.” Michael rubbed a hand over his shortly trimmed beard and frowned. “Yeah, I’m not sure that’ll fly with the old man. He had the TVs removed from the break rooms last month. Said that a distracted employee was an inefficient employee.”
Smithy groaned in defeat and rolled toward Michael, holding out his hand. “Good to see you anyway, man. Are you here about the beta tests?”
Michael shook his hand and nodded. “I saw your report this morning. Got a minute to talk about them?”
“I’ve always got a minute to talk to you, boss.”
Smithy rolled down the hall and led him into a large office with peeling yellow wall paper and a stained carpet. He pulled up behind a chipped mahogany desk while Michael sat in the cracked leather seat across from him.
The floor had been scheduled for renovation, but Smithy’s new project had put that on hold. It had only been by the skin of his teeth that Michael had convinced his father to invest in his Yale buddy’s start-up project. Housing the team in the dilapidated section of the enormous building had been one way of insuring their work would stay under his father’s radar. For how long, he didn’t know. But the team was already making great strides. This morning’s report was just a bump in the road.
The Billionaire and the Matchmaker Page 1