Chapter Fifteen

As Blake rattled on about his prior evening’s date, Andy doodled on her notepad and internally debated whom to set Blake up with next. She’d stopped listening to his morning reports days ago, right around the same time that they’d started their new arrangement, which she considered purely coincidental. It was always the same thing—everything went horribly, the woman was all wrong, yada yada yada.

So instead of actually paying attention, she nodded and mentally went through her options of who to set him up with next. Who had it been last night? That Jane girl. Right. Cross her off. Blake had suggested that Fiona girl, but Andy was still certain Natasha would be better for him. And did she really want him to ruin any friendship she might be able to strike up with the redhead? No, she did not. Natasha it was.

Blake cleared his throat, the sign that he was wrapping up. “So all in all, it was a fairly decent evening.”

Andy looked up from the row of Doctor Who Daleks she’d drawn. Did Blake say he’d had a decent evening? She must have heard wrong.

Except she hadn’t heard wrong. Because then he said, “It was pleasant, even. I believe I will have you set up a second date with Ms. Osborne.” He smiled blandly across their desks, as if everything was normal. As if he said this every day. As if she wasn’t having a minor heart attack.

But then she was smiling blandly back and agreeing, as if this was just the outcome she had hoped for. And it was, wasn’t it? She wanted Blake to see a woman more than once. That was the desired outcome of her job. It was the goal.

Yet this was the first time it had happened. The first time he’d said the words second date, and something about that bothered her to no end. For God’s sake, they’d just had a naked sushi lunch the day before. Or nearly naked—they’d yet to have disposed of all their clothes while doing it, which would have given their trysts an extra layer of sensuality. As if they needed that. Andy had never in her life thought to find herself sprawled across the expanse of mahogany as her boss used his wickedly talented mouth to remove one slice of nigiri at a time from the exposed parts of her body. How on earth did someone so straitlaced bring out such naughtiness in her?

She’d never again think of sushi without recalling the sensual feel of pickled ginger on her belly button. The delicious coolness of each grain of rice she swore she could feel individually against her hypersensitive skin …

She was starting to get wet at the memory when he spoke and she came crashing down to earth. “What do you think we should do this time?”

Oh, yes. The second date. She stifled the harrumph that threatened to sound from her throat and pretended to consider. A freaking second date. Really?

She’d been okay yesterday when they’d parted after work—Blake off to meet Jane Osborne, Andy off to watch bad broadcast television on her sofa while she ate a dinner that came on a microwavable tray. It was a drab evening for her, but she’d been fine. She’d also been pretending that Blake would detest his dinner like he had every other time Andy had set him up with a new candidate. If she’d known he was actually enjoying himself, she would have been good and worked up about it last night, too.

“I think a play, perhaps, would be good. Do people still go to plays?”

She went to plays. She liked plays. She’d even considered theater as a major at one point.

She could not, though, possibly consider Blake at the theater with a woman who was a second date. No way. No how.

“No one goes to plays.” She smiled sweetly. “How about a movie?” If they can’t talk, or see each other, it’s basically a non-date.

How is this even happening right now? A second date?

There was zero reason for her to have this reaction. Just because she’d begun a sexual relationship with the guy did not mean she got to be upset about this. They’d worked toward this. Together. Blake’s being serious about dating was a good thing. An excellent thing.

But serious about Jane? Talk about a dark horse.

“A movie? Oh. Okay. Are there any, um, girl-type things out?”

Andy couldn’t hold back her laughter, though she recognized she was using it as a substitute for that icky rage going on inside. The release felt good. When she could talk again, she asked, “Do you mean like a romantic comedy, or a drama, or a period piece?”

“A period piece? I would never ask—oh, my God. Is that a thing?” He looked positively shell-shocked.

Andy was dying.

“Blake! It means a historical film!” She wiped tears of laughter away, taking some mascara along with them. Jane wouldn’t have laughs like this with him. This second date shouldn’t be happening. Should. Not.

“I trust your judgment. You’ve seen her file, talked to her. Probably more than I have.”

Which was exactly why Jane was all wrong for him. He didn’t even know her. She didn’t even know him.

Wait, that wasn’t right. Well, Blake didn’t know Jane and Jane didn’t know Blake, but that was what Andy was for. She’d narrowed down his interests, matched them with Jane’s personality. Andy had paired them because she knew they’d be excellent together.

Why the heck were you so good at your job?

Because that was the goal, remember?

Ah, the devil and angel Andys were back. Nice timing.

“Anyway,” Blake said, his shoulders relaxing in exact contrast with the knot tightening in her belly, “whatever you think. God, I’m relieved. And embarrassed. But mostly relieved. I never know about these female mysteries.”

That gave her an idea. Since the date was pointless anyway, and she had met Jane (which was what qualified her to make that judgment), she would set up a crappy date. That bland bitch would never outright tell Blake that the last thing on earth she wanted to see was an action flick set in space. And yet she would have an awful time and they wouldn’t be likely to go out again.

Andy surfed over to a ticketing site. Oh, even better, the movie she was thinking of was apparently a sequel. She’d bet the whole second-date bonus—her stomach dropped again at the thought—that neither of them had seen the first. The previews she recalled were laughable, but not in the campy kind of way. Just in the kind of way that made you wonder who exactly greenlit that project.

When she realized this particular movie theater allowed you to choose your own seats, she almost bounced in her chair. Front row—two clicks and the worst date ever was all set up. Between the subject matter and the inevitable migraine-slash-neckaches they’d get, she could kiss Jane good-bye.

As long as Blake wasn’t kissing Jane good-bye. Good God, had he already? She couldn’t think about that. He hadn’t mentioned it when they’d had their before-work bump-and-grind session that morning, but they’d only talked about no sex with the candidates, not no kissing. Dammit, she couldn’t revise the rules now. It would look suspicious.

And it would totally be counterproductive because you want him to find a match.

Well, maybe I do, devil Andy said to angel Andy, but not this one.

With a scowl, Andy shooed away both the imaginary representations of her warring thoughts and finished her online transaction. “Okay, you’re in for a seven o’clock showing of the new Austen remake. It’s opening night, so don’t be late. There won’t be any other tickets available, I can guarantee you. Austenites are rabid.” She beamed particularly brightly. “Jane will love it. Jane. Jane Austen. Did you notice?”

The only thing Andy felt guilty about was the fact that she didn’t feel guilty at all.

*   *   *

Blake had to admit it—he was impressed. Jane Osborne was as boring a woman as he’d ever spent an evening with, but she could certainly roll with the punches. He’d been absolutely heated when the pimply-faced kid behind the glass window had told him his tickets had gotten screwed up. He knew Andy would disapprove of him throttling the squeaky-voiced little bastard on a power trip. His most disapproving scowl and the threatening voice he used for intimidating business rivals was starting to have an effect on the kid when a cool hand settled on his arm.