Part 8 (1/2)

”Who cares?” Heather murmured, propping her chin on her fist. ”Sometimes tall, dark, and hunky outweighs compatibility.”

Emily snorted. ”Not in our line of work.”

She couldn't help glancing at Cavanaugh again, though. Heather was right, she had to admit. Tall, with wavy black hair and broad shoulders, Cavanaugh exuded an air of confidence that was undeniably attractive. Instead of a suit, he wore a simple dark b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt and black jeans. She noticed the beginnings of a tattoo on his left arm, just peeking out beneath his rolled-up sleeve. She knew from his file that he had blue eyes, but in the dim light of the room, they appeared dark, intent . . .

And focused on her.

Emily gasped and jumped to her feet. She couldn't believe she'd been caught ogling one of her clients.

”Em?” Heather looked up at her with wide eyes.

”I've got to run to the ladies' room,” she muttered. ”Keep an eye on things and I'll be back in a minute.”

”Are you okay?”

But Emily was out the door before the words were out of Heather's mouth.

Six deep breaths, some distracted muttering, and a splash of cold water later, Emily regained some semblance of control. She flashed an irritated look in the mirror, tucked her hair behind her ears and turned to head back to the mixer, a friendly smile firmly in place.

Nodding at Jessica, she slipped into the group to pull her aside. ”Have you met everyone?” she asked.

Jessica blinked, flus.h.i.+ng a bit. ”I'm not sure. I've been talking to a lot of people.”

”How about Sam?”

”Sam?” Jessica looked around blankly.

Emily pushed down a surge of irritation.

If she was to do her job right, she needed to make sure Jessica did her part. Any attraction-if that was what it was, and she wasn't admitting that it was, because she was a professional, for G.o.d's sake, and didn't give in to such silly ideas. After all, attraction, l.u.s.t . . . they were all just chemical reactions resulting from years of evolution and we'd really moved beyond that, and an intelligent person didn't take those things into account when choosing a mate anymore, not if they wanted the relations.h.i.+p to last longer than- Anyway.

Any attraction she may or may not feel for one of her clients was irrelevant and needed to be put aside for the greater good-in other words, finding the proper mate for Jessica.

”Sam Cavanaugh,” she said, trying not to grit her teeth as she led Jessica over to where he stood.

”Sam, I don't believe we've met.” She turned her attention to the man, covering her nerves with a businesslike mask. ”I'm Emily Valentine and this, as you probably know, is Jessica Samuels.”

His full lips curved in a smile as he extended his hand, not to Jessica, but to her.

”Pleased to meet you,” he said, voice warm and smooth like old whiskey, but without the bite.

Emily faltered for only a moment before stepping back, all but shoving Jessica toward him. ”You two should chat,” she said, pretending not to notice Sam politely ignoring her snub and turning to Jessica with a slight tilt of his head. Emily escaped to her table, sliding in beside Heather, who was flipping through Jessica's file and making notes on each profile.

”I need a drink,” Emily muttered, taking a sip from her water as she reached for the file, fumbling a little with the pages.

”Rough night?” Heather asked, producing Sam's profile and handing it to Emily with a smirk.

Emily glared in response, but took the sheets of paper and laid them on the table for closer examination. ”I just don't get it,” she said, running her finger over the spreadsheet columns. ”They don't seem to have anything in common, but the computer says he's a perfect match.” She tapped the bottom of the page. ”This is weird. There's no a.n.a.lyst noted on this file.”

”Online dater?” Heather offered, referring to clients who joined only for their limited service, with no one-on-one counseling involved.

”Yes, but then there shouldn't have been enough information for an in-depth match like Jessica's.”

Heather shrugged. ”Regardless, it looks like they're hitting it off.” She nodded toward the couple across the room.

Emily knew enough about body language to recognize the signs of attraction-the leaning toward each other, the eye contact, the smiles, the way Jessica twirled a finger in her hair.

It hadn't changed much since high school, actually.

Again, Sam's gaze lifted to catch hers and Emily turned away quickly, cheeks hot. She needed to get a handle on the rather annoying infatuation she seemed to have developed. Especially since-if Jessica's giggling was any indication-Sam Cavanaugh would soon be spoken for.

Two hours later, Emily sighed in relief as the waiter set a gla.s.s of white wine on the table before her. She'd pulled Jessica aside, gotten her input on the three prospects she'd like to see again, and the evening was finally complete. Emily took the opportunity to retire to the restaurant's patio. It had an amazing view of Puget Sound, and the sun was just slipping beyond the horizon, filling the nearly-clear sky with oranges and reds. She took a sip of her wine and examined the three profiles laid out before her.

Mark Jacobs. Yes, like the designer, but no relation. Age thirty-four. Entrepreneur who enjoys golf, tennis, travel, and-Emily had to keep from rolling her eyes at the cliche-polo. He and Jessica shared a love of animals and both contributed time and money to support local non-kill animal shelters. Jessica said he had dreamy eyes and a nice smile.

Adam Keller. Age forty-eight. Owned a chain of convenience stores. A little old for Jessica, but she said he seemed young for his age. He was in great shape-a black belt in both Tae Kwon Do and Jujitsu-and enjoyed sailing. In fact, he'd once sailed around the world, something Jessica said she found romantic.

And then, of course, there was Sam Cavanaugh. Emily stacked the pages with Sam's profile on top, examining his photograph with a frown. In the picture, he had a little more scruff-he'd been clean-shaven at the party-and his hair was a little longer, almost brus.h.i.+ng his shoulders. His eyes were the same, though, blue and intense, as if they were looking right into- ”Checking up on me?”

Emily started, looking up to find Sam standing next to her table, a slight grin on his face. She blushed, fumbling with her file and tucking the papers inside. ”Of course not . . . I'm just . . . doing my job.”

”I was only kidding.” He pulled up a chair and sat next to her. ”I don't usually do this, you know.”

”Sit down uninvited?” She smiled to let him know she wasn't serious.

He laughed. ”Computer dating. A friend signed me up for Perfect Match. I didn't even know until your office called.”

”We get that a lot,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. ”But it worked out, right? You and Jessica seemed to have a connection.”

He shrugged. ”I suppose.” Sam waved down a waiter and ordered a beer.

”What do you mean?” Emily pressed, not wanting to waste Jessica's time if Sam truly wasn't interested. It had nothing to do with maybe, possibly, being interested in him herself. Really. Not at all.

He sat back in his chair, legs extended and fingers laced over his stomach. ”She's a nice woman,” he said. ”Sweet, fun to talk to. She'd be fun to date, I guess.” He glanced at her sideways.

”And the problem with that is . . .”

”I'm not looking for a date. I'm looking for a mate.”

Emily smirked. ”Nice. I should hire you to write my catch phrases.”

”That one's on the house.” He looked up, tapping his lips with the tip of his finger and Emily tried not to stare at his mouth.

She really tried.

He grinned. ”Here's another one. Looking for love in all the right places.”

”Meh.” She shrugged, feigning indifference.

”No?” He looked surprised, but not offended. ”Strike up a match?”