Maybe he didn’t want a quiet woman after all. Though Andrea argued with him at any chance she got, at least she was entertaining. Often over the last weeks, he’d actually looked forward to seeing her in his office. Her opinions might be overbearing, but her insight was also usually spot-on.

Andrea also wouldn’t expect him to order for her, as all the other ones did. What was that anyway? A test of some sort? How was he possibly supposed to know what she’d want when he’d never met her before that very evening?

He’d tell Andy about that the next day. She’d get a kick out of it.

Now why did he just refer to her as Andy? Andrea was more suited to her looks. Admittedly, the more he’d gotten to know her, the more Andy seemed to fit her personality. But it was a hell of a lot of fun to see her feathers ruffle when he called her Drea.

The waiter came then to ask if there’d be anything else.

“No, just the bill.” Blake said that a little quicker than he should have. Andrea would have disapproved. “If you would, please,” he added, hoping to soften his obvious anxiousness. Actually, being in charge of the meal meant he could just demand the check like that. This was exactly why he continued to do the ordering for dates.

There. That was better. Andrea would be proud. He was nice-ish, and making sound business decisions.

Blake paid the bill and looked to his date—what was her name again? Sally? Cindy? Cinnamon? No matter, he’d simply leave it out when addressing her. “Are you ready then?”

“Hmm,” she replied.

It had to mean yes since she put her napkin on the table and rose from her seat.

Blake followed, a small smile gracing his lips at finally ending the miserable charade of a meal.

It wasn’t until later—much later—when he was tucked into his bed and he’d completed a chapter in his latest noir detective novel that he realized he’d spent the night thinking more about his matchmaker than his proposed match.

He needed to get it together.

*   *   *

Andy paced the office waiting for Blake to arrive. She rarely got to work before he did, but today she was anxious to hear about his date the night before. It wasn’t even her day to be in the office, though lately she’d spent most of her days there whether she was required to be or not. Today she wanted to be there to catch up with Blake first thing. Cynthia, the woman she’d set him up with, was the one. Andy was sure of it. Cynthia fit his profile to a T—slender, quiet, submissive. If this wasn’t the perfect bride for Blake, then she didn’t know who was.

Of course, she’d thought that about the last several women. Sure, there were a couple of misfires in the beginning—the loud one with the obnoxious hyena laugh came to mind. And Jaylene. Now, setting Blake up with her had been a genuinely bad idea. If Andy had only taken more than two minutes to screen her instead of latching on to make up for her lateness, she would have realized it. Jaylene was a bra burner, for heaven’s sake. And talk about man-calves—Blake wasn’t as impressed with her muscles as Andy had been.

Since that first week, though, she had fallen into a groove. She’d found a pool of candidates at the Boston Secretary Association. Each chapter had a weekly meeting, and Andy attended as many as she could in her free time and on her days off. There, in the midst of women who took their careers seriously, she’d found a plethora simply looking for a rich boss to marry. They were the perfect contenders for Donovan—happy to serve coffee and sit on the sidelines as long as the Mister brought home a nice paycheck. That, she could work with.

And yet, Blake had refused to see any of them a second time. It perplexed Andy to no end. Of course she’d questioned him, prodded for reasons so she could narrow her selection criteria, but she never received any helpful feedback. Over and over, she was forced to return to the same conclusion—Blake Donovan was unmatchable.

Quick-paced steps echoed across the waiting room outside the office door. Andy peered out, recognizing his stride by sound before she saw him. Their eyes met, hers wide under raised eyebrows, his serious, but with a spark to them. Did that spark linger from his date the night before?

Or was it for her?

That was a silly thought. Of course it wasn’t for her. He must have had a good time with Cynthia. Sillier was how that knowledge disappointed her. Over and over again. She had to stop with this stabby-feeling thing.

“Well?” she nudged, chewing her bottom lip in anticipation.

The spark in Blake’s eyes vanished. “No.”

“No?” She couldn’t hide her shock. Or her annoyance. Or her delight. “But why?”

Blake turned his attention to his secretary, signing a document she’d handed him, then proceeded into his office, past Andy. “What was that?”

She trailed after him, reminding herself of the puppy that she’d left with Blake—whatever had he done with the adorable creature? Hopefully returned it so it could find a happy home, and not just—fired it. She’d have to ask. But now, the pressing question had to do with a human creature and not the four-legged variety. “Why don’t you want to see Cynthia again?”

He set his briefcase on his desk and opened it up. “Does it matter?”

Did he really ask that? God! This was her whole job, figuring this stuff out. “Yes! She was perfect, Blake. She perfectly fit your profile. She had the perfect body, the perfect temperament, the perfect teeth, for crying out loud—what on earth could have been the matter with her?”

He answered with a simple shrug.

Andy huffed, throwing her arms out in exasperation. “If I can’t figure out why you don’t like them, how am I supposed to find a better one? Articulate, please.” This emotional defensive he had her on was exhausting.

Now it seemed it was Blake who was annoyed. “I don’t know, Andy, but that’s your problem, not mine.”

“It’s your problem too if you expect—” She halted mid-gripe when she registered exactly what he’d said. “What did you just call me?”

“Drea. I called you Drea.” Blake kept his eyes averted, snapping his briefcase closed and placing it under his desk. Then, with a clearing of his throat, he met her gaze. “Of course.”

She shook her head. Obviously, she was hearing things. “Well, this job is impossible, then.” She stomped to her desk and slumped into her chair. How could he not even tell her what was wrong with her choices? And if she picked so poorly, why did he continue to have her try again? Jealousy or not, she did have a job to do.

Running a hand over her face, she pressed him further. “Cynthia wanted to see you again, you know.” Andy had received the email the night before. The message had gone on and on about how gentlemanly Blake had been and how they’d totally clicked. Clicked, she’d said. That was part of the reason why Andy had been so sure she’d found the one.

Maybe if they’d kissed? Maybe Cynthia would have seen the passion Andy noticed in him while he was making big business decisions. Of course, they had to have kissed. There was no other way he could have monotone-monopolized the date and left her wanting more. Thanks to the Jaylene debacle, she knew full well how dates went if Blake wasn’t interested. So. Cynthia and Blake had shared a moment at the end of the evening. That shouldn’t make her stomach sink. She had matched him with a woman that clicked. She should feel good about that. So why was her stomach in knots?

Blake flipped through some papers seeming to only half care about their conversation. “Does she? I can’t imagine how you know that seeing as how the woman has a vocabulary of two words. And I’m not even sure you can call those words.”

“Two words?” That was odd. Though Andy had never spoken to the woman, Cynthia had seemed eloquent and well spoken in her emails.