“Reports say that our testing groups love the user-friendly interface of the new app,” Smithy said, pulling a piece of paper from the stacks of disheveled folders on his desk. “The algorithms need a bit of tweaking, but we’re making serious improvements.”
“It’s the fifth point that concerned me,” Michael said, tapping his finger on the back of the paper. “The testers don’t believe we’ve got anything unique to offer. There’s nothing that separates us from the dating apps they’ve seen before. That’s not a promising sign.”
“My algorithm outperforms any of that junk science.” Smithy rubbed a hand over his curls and scowled. Frustration sparked in his green eyes. “They just don’t know it, yet.”
Michael leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips in thought. He’d had unwavering faith in Kevin Smith since their sophomore year of college at the Ivy League school. Even then, Kevin had been harboring plans for his big business idea. It had taken over ten years, a stint in the military, and a painful road of recovery to get to this point in his career. But Michael was determined to see his buddy’s plans come to fruition.
“I mulled over the comments this morning,” Michael said, leaning forward in his chair. His brown eyes lit with excitement. “For some reason, I couldn’t get out of my head the matchmaking company that my parents used back in the late seventies. It was called Sevenson Selective.”
Smithy whistled low and made a face. “I didn’t know your parents used a matchmaking service. That’s crazy.”
“Surprisingly, when you’ve got money, it can be hard to find the right partner.”
Michael knew that issue all too well. His last string of girlfriends had seemed more concerned with how he could get them a ticket to Coachella than in a life-long commitment. It was a frustratingly common occurrence that almost made him yearn for the simple days of arranged marriages.
Almost.
“Anyway,” he continued with a flourish of his hand, “the amazing thing is they still exist. It’s no longer a flourishing business, but it’s hanging on. I filled out an application and dropped it off over lunch. I wanted to see how their practices differ from yours.”
Smithy raised an eyebrow and gave him a skeptical smile. Blood rushed to his round cheeks. “What exactly are we going to learn from a failing business, Michael?”
“They’ve got a system that goes back generations. It’s tried and true. They used to be the place for the elite and wealthy to find their partners: they were so renowned. Their only mistake was in neglecting to move into the twenty-first century.” He shook his head regretfully. “We can learn from them. Harvest what made them unique back in the day and utilize it to put your app on the map.”
His thoughts trailed back to the young woman from the matchmaking company. A crown of golden curls had cascaded around her oval face so that even the retched heat hadn’t been able to hide her natural beauty. She had baby blue eyes, pink full lips, and a genuine smile that seemed to contain an undertone of teasing. There was an intelligent spark in her eyes, one that assured him that she was a woman who knew her own mind.
He hadn’t expected to find someone like her running the business. If anything, he expected an older woman with glasses, a sullen stare, and an extensive interrogation of his financial status. Emily Sevenson had not only been down-to-earth, but she seemed to really care about her company.
“Right...” Smithy said, drawing out the word. He narrowed his eyes at him and pinched his lips together. “And you’re going to be the guinea pig who goes through the matchmaking process?”
Michael was determined to see Smithy’s project succeed. And if his father had taught him anything, it was that if you wanted to get something done, you had to do it yourself. He’d sacrifice his dating life on the altar of success if that meant an ace in the hole for his friend.
“Yes, unless you’d like to volunteer.” Michael smirked at him. “But I figured you had enough on your plate with running things back here.”
Smithy waved a dismissive hand and leaned down to knock on each of his legs. A metal thud sounded when he hit his prosthetics. “I’m not so sure they’d take a bionic man, Yale graduate or not. Not a lot of women looking to date men with a history of attracting land mines.”
Michael’s face dropped as he regarded his longtime buddy. That could’ve been him sitting in that chair. They’d agreed to sign up for the military together. It was a pact they’d made their senior year, the night before graduation.
When Michael’s parents found out, they’d threatened to have their military contacts ground him in a tiny military base off the coast of Long Island with nothing more than stacks of paperwork to keep him company. Needless to say, Michael had to back out of the pact. Smithy had gone on to honor his pledge and did a tour of Iraq, where a caravan across the desert and an IED had nearly taken his life.
If investing in Smithy’s brilliant work was one tiny way to make it up to him, Michael would do it a million times over. He owed it to him.
“I’m too busy, anyway,” Smithy said, leaning an elbow on his desk, a dimple flashing on the left side of his face. “Got ladies lining up the block to get a ride in my new van. Have you seen that thing? Hottest thing on four wheels there is.”
Michael threw his head back and laughed. Smithy’s van amounted to not much more than a soccer mom’s minivan. Of course, that was until he painted neon orange flames on the side and added bass speakers in the back that could wake the dead.
“No worries, I’ve got this one,” Michael said, rising to his feet. He had at least five other meetings scheduled that day with various departments in the firm. Despite the fact that he loved this particular office, he couldn’t spend all day there. “I’ll report back on what I learn.”
“Beautiful.” Smithy wheeled toward the door and met him there. He had an ornery grin on his face. “And send me pictures of your date. If you get paired with Aphrodite, I’ll know this was all worth it. Even if the app sinks to oblivion.”
“Don’t count on it.” Michael walked backwards down the hall, flashing him a toothy grin. “You know the only women who sign up for these things are fifty percent plastic and one hundred percent desperate. A couple dates and I’ll be out of there.”
“Sounds like my kind of woman,” Smithy called. “Give her my number. My shoulder is the perfect height to cry on.”
Michael hopped on the elevator with a smile on his face. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and chuckled to himself, once again thinking about Emily Sevenson and her intense blue eyes.
It really was too bad women like her didn’t enter those dating services. But he highly doubted someone like her had any problems finding a date. And besides, that would be like dating the enemy.
A particularly enchanting and attractive enemy.
Chapter Three
Emily marched through the office door that morning and slammed The Mercury News in front of Lydia, her face scrunched up in rage. “Have you seen this morning’s front page?”
Lydia leaned back and calmly lifted her coffee mug to her red-painted lips to take a sip. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Have you seen it?” Emily stabbed at the paper with her finger. “Look. This is happening right in our backyard. They’re out to get us, I tell you.”
Lydia’s eyebrows raised and she reached for the newspaper. She took a long moment to scan over the bold lettered headline, rolling her eyes as she finished. “All I see is another geek squad announcing the latest app they built while living in their mother’s dank basement. They release those all the time.”
“Yes, but this one is a matchmaking app. It’s said to be the best one yet.”
Emily’s gaze drifted over the expanse of their tiny office. What had once been a posh and polished environment had begun to crumble over the years. The cream wallpaper her mother had picked out was beginning to peel from the walls. The gold-plated light fixtures looked like they should’ve been abandoned after the seventies died. And the picture frames
Emily had hung to brighten up the area never seemed to hang quite straight.
Her expression melted into one of despair. “I just don’t know if I can do this anymore, Lyd.”
“Emily.” Lydia covered her hand with her own. “We have this talk at least once a month and you always manage to pull through.”
She sniffed and blinked away the panicked tears. “I know, but this time feels different. It’s the end of an era.”
Matchmaking was an art that the Sevenson family had excelled in for over three-hundred years. At least, that was the story Emily’s mother used to tell clients who walked through the doors of her little office just on the outskirts of Silicon Valley.
She could still remember the way her mother’s cat-eyed glasses would slide down to the tip of her nose as she explained how her grandmother, great-grandmother and beyond had each been the official matchmaker of their village before picking up and moving to the ripe fields of America to continue their work. It was a good story. One that probably didn’t contain much historical accuracy, but still, it wowed the customers.
The last five years had been a roller coaster of ups and downs for the Sevenson Selective matchmaking company. Seeing the headlines announcing Linex Investment’s newest matchmaking app was the last straw.
“What feels different is that you have yet to down your daily recommended dose of caffeine.” Lydia pushed a steaming mug of black coffee toward her. “Drink up. You’ll feel better in no time. A woman has no business out in the world until she’s fully caffeinated. People could get hurt.”
She gratefully took the cup and willed her heart to return to a normal pace. Stressing over what she couldn’t help wouldn’t solve her problems. If she wanted to save her family’s legacy, she needed to come up with a solution. Plain and simple.
“Anyway, enough about that.” Lydia’s lips twitched in a devious smile. “We need to finish discussing one very important topic.”
Emily pushed a blonde curl out of her face and regarded her friend with suspicion. “Yes?”
Lydia clicked her nails on the countertop. “Your dating life.”
She groaned and pushed away from the counter, shaking her head as she went. “You’re beating a dead horse, lady. This girl is off the market.”
They’d already had this conversation a million times. Emily’s last few relationships had gone nowhere. She had a history of attracting liars and jerks. They seemed to be the only men interested in her. When her last boyfriend insisted that she quit working at her mom’s lame business and find a real job, that had been the last straw. She didn’t need someone controlling her.
“You broke up with Scott over a year ago,” Lydia said, clutching her mug and scrambling around the counter to cut her off. “You’re not off the market, you’re avoiding the market. There’s nothing wrong with falling in love, you know.”
She regarded her friend with a fake glare. “You can say that. You found your perfect match.”
Lydia tried to suppress a grin by taking a sip of her coffee. “Yes, yes I did. He asked me to marry him last night.”
Coffee splashed everywhere as Emily threw up her hands and her jaw opened wide. “But it’s only been two months! When? How? And why didn’t you call me right when it happened?”
“That’s a lot of questions.” Lydia gave her an amused grin. “It happened over a bottle of chilled Dom Perignon on Edward’s terrace last night. We were admiring the city lights. Romantic music drifted up to us from the park across the street. He just suddenly popped the question and I said yes. It was so late, I didn’t want to wake you.”
She grasped for Lydia’s left hand, frowning at the lack of jewelry. “Um, excuse me, but there’s no ring.”
“That’s because we’re going to go shopping for it together.” She pulled her hand away and flipped her straight hair over her shoulder. “I’m a modern woman with modern tastes. Edward knows that about me. He wants me to have exactly what I want.”
“Which means a giant princess-cut diamond in a diamond-encrusted Tiffany setting.” Emily smirked. “Is that what we’re calling modern now?”
“If the Jimmy Choo fits.”
Emily sighed and threw herself into a nearby black and white paisley armchair. Suddenly her eyes grew wide and she bolted upright again. “Wait, what are you going to do with that apartment of yours?”
She’d been unimaginably jealous of Lydia’s apartment ever since they first met five years ago. It was a tiny thing, but full of old character with white wainscoting, crown molding, a gorgeous antique fireplace mantel, and a claw foot bathtub. She would’ve done anything to find an apartment like that, especially now that she was in the middle of selling her mom’s old house and about to be homeless.
“I’m glad you asked.” Lydia’s lips curled into a devious grin. “That brings me back to our original discussion.”
“About how you found a perfect man?”
“No.” She slunk over to the secretary desk, her cream colored pencil skirt tight around her legs. With a flourish, she picked up a piece of paper and waved it around. “How you found your perfect man.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Confusion wracked Emily’s face. She reached for the paper, but Lydia snatched it away.
“I added your information into the database yesterday afternoon. There was nothing better to do and I was curious.”
Dark clouds formed in Emily’s eyes. “Tell me you didn’t...”
“I knew you’d never have the guts.” Lydia lifted her chin and smirked. “It’s my job as your best friend to look out for your best interests, even if you feel inclined to neglect your own happiness. It was just an experiment, to see if any matches pinged. And it did. You had one match.”
“You’re not just saying that to set me up with that guy that was in here the other day?” Emily raised her eyebrows and gave her a dangerous look. Lydia hadn’t stopped dropping hints about Michael Knight since the moment he came in. “Because if you are...”
“No, I swear I didn’t cheat.” Lydia made a crossing motion over her heart. “If you trust your mother’s system as much as you say you do, then it’s the real deal.”
“That’s impossible.”
She snatched the paper from Lydia’s hand and scanned over the black text. For one heart-wrenching moment, she imagined Michael’s face on the page. However, disappointment struck hard when all she saw was the address for her favorite restaurant, Lorenzo’s Italian. There wasn’t even a name attached to her mysterious date.
“What’s this supposed to mean?”
“It’s where you’re meeting your match tonight for your first date. No name, no picture. I don’t want you googling him and finding ten reasons to dump him already.” Lydia began to walk away, her heels clicking on the cracked linoleum floor. “Eight sharp. Don’t be late.”
Emily felt blood rush to her face. She sputtered and stared at the paper, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m not doing this, Lydia. You know I can’t.”
“You can if you want my apartment.” She sat at her desk and gave her a pointed look. “Edward has a much bigger place than I do and it only makes sense that I move in with him. So, either I need to find a subletter, or I give it to you. Rent is already paid through the end of the year.”
Lydia’s family owned a few vineyards in Napa Valley. They didn’t lack for funds, neither did their part-time employed daughter who had moved out here in the hopes of becoming an actress or a rich socialite.
“So, let me get this straight.” The paper in Emily’s hand shook as both shock and excitement coursed through her veins. “You’re using your rent-free apartment as blackmail to get me to go out on a date?”
“Four dates, to be exact.” Lydia held up four slender fingers. “Give this guy a real chance. Commit to four dates with him and the apartment is all yours.”
She ground her teeth and crumpled the paper in her hand. Part of her was furious at her so-called best friend for forcing her into this situation. She was p
erfectly fine as she was: single and hopeless.
So what if she complained about having nothing to do on most weekends? And so what if the last time she watched You’ve Got Mail she sobbed like a baby into her chocolate chip ice cream? There were standards to be maintained in a friendship and forcing your bestie to date a mysterious man was just not part of them. He could be a serial killer, for all she knew.
But then again, even the threat of a date with Ted Bundy paled in comparison to the glory of that little apartment. It was extremely difficult to find an affordable dig in Silicon Valley. She’d pretty much resigned herself to the fact that she was going to have to rent a place with three roommates and one tiny bathroom on her budget. But no longer. That apartment was hers.
“Fine.” She clutched the paper in her fist. “I’ll do it. Four completely innocent dates. Nothing more. And definitely no kissing or hanky-panky. You understand me?”
Lydia cheered and threw her cup of pens into the air like confetti.
“But know this,” Emily added through gritted teeth. “When I’m maid of honor at your wedding, I’m not wearing any of those ugly dresses you like to circle in bridal magazines. I’m going to look fabulous. I deserve it, after this.”
Rolling her eyes, Lydia turned back to her computer. “Whatever you want, boss. It’ll be worth it when your perfect match escorts you to my elegant wedding. You’ll see.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Emily marched to her office, waving the paper over her head. “Don’t hold your breath. I’d hate for your fiancé to blame me for your untimely death.”
Chapter Four
Michael walked through the doors of Lorenzo’s Italian restaurant, determined to get this date over with. He already had copies of the intro application. That alone would help Smithy tailor his program immensely. Now all that was left was to go on a couple of dates and assess how effective Sevenson Selective’s process was and get out.
No drama. No mess.
“Meeting someone?”
The Billionaire and the Matchmaker Page 2