“It’s fine, Blake. I don’t mind what we see.” She smiled at him, and it seemed genuine.

“The space movie? Are you certain?” She was obviously not the space type. Or was she? After all, Andrea hadn’t seemed like the Star Wars type, but since the initial reference she’d used enough of them he could tell she was a fan.

“I don’t love space, but the lead was in a rom-com I liked last year, so it will be fine. Anyways, I tend to drift off in movies.”

Ah. So not a closet space fan. He was surprised not to feel any disappointment by that. He’d made Andrea choke on her coffee last week when he’d shown her his Wookiee impression. Jane didn’t seem like the type to have reactions like that. Or passions in general. Drifting off in movies—what was she, seventy?

On the other hand, the fact that she was fine with the unexpected turn of events was nice. He’d been on enough dates in his life where someone would say a change of plans was fine and then proceed to pout all night. He understood the rarity of a woman who genuinely didn’t mind going with the flow.

So he painfully turned the scowl into a smile at the ticket kid and accepted the tickets to … he squinted. Martian Death Squad 2?

Good Lord. “Popcorn?” he offered to Jane. She shook her head. Again, he was struck by the contrast between the two women. Besides the obvious physical differences—Jane was nearly his height, where he could tuck Andrea comfortably beneath his arm; Jane was Chinese to Andrea’s—whatever. What was her ethnic background? Dawson. Sounded British, but her coloring was Irish. German?

He sighed. These mental tangents were becoming a hobby, and all of them involved his matchmaker.

The point was, the two women could not be more different, both physically and mentally. Everywhere Andrea was feisty, Jane was placid. It was like comparing a wildcat to a tabby. All they had common was their whiskers. Blake shook his head again. That didn’t even make sense. Popcorn! That’s what he was thinking about. Who went to a movie and didn’t get popcorn? His date, apparently.

He’d only decided to go on a second date with her because he was so sick to death of first dates. First dates were deplorable. Universally, in his experience.

Especially lately. Why were all the submissive women either incredibly stupid or just plain mute? He wouldn’t be the successful man he was today without being able to admit the occasional hard truth to himself, and he’d realized one about Andrea while he was on his first date with Jane.

Whatever was brewing between himself and his employee, it was infinitely more interesting than what he was experiencing with any woman she’d found for him thus far. So what was the point of continuing on with dull women? He’d tuned back in to Jane as she finished politely explaining what it was that she did. Unfortunately, he hadn’t heard a word, so he still didn’t know. Or actually care.

But she did a Thing, and she wasn’t pushy about it, whatever it was. So he made one of his famous (in his own mind) lightning decisions. While he unraveled the tangle of feelings he was having about the matchmaker, he’d continue to date Jane. He couldn’t keep doing first dates, but if he quit dating altogether, Andrea would no longer have a job to do. This was a perfect compromise. What a stroke of luck that this had occurred to him on a date with Jane, and not with Jamie, or the hyena.

So popcorn or not, it looked like he was escorting Jane Osborne to a showing of Martian Death Squad 2. From the front row. He sighed, and comforted himself with the knowledge that he had scotch at home.

*   *   *

Andy’s eyes narrowed, but it was the only physical indication she was showing of her internal rage. What kind of date was this Jane woman? She’d shown all the signs of a submissive puppy in her interview. Clearly that had carried over.

“I’m sorry the tickets weren’t what we’d planned. Was she mad?” Her voice was level, betraying no signs of her disappointment.

“She was a trooper. The shoot-’em-up wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would be. She slept through most of it. Can you imagine?”

Andy laughed politely. No, I can’t imagine. “So you want to arrange another date, you said?” Take it back.

“Sure. She’s game, I’m game. What do you suggest?”

A euthanizing. “A fancy dinner. Since the first two dates have gone well, I assume you’ll want to spend some time getting to know her more. And girls always enjoy being pampered. Seafood, maybe?” Haha. Jane doesn’t eat fish. And I know for a fact that she has nothing to say. Game, set, match.

“Sounds good to me. It’s lobster season. We can chat over those.” Blake leaned back in his chair. “I love lobster. Lobster rolls are the best, but we’re farther down the coast from the good ones. Are you a seafood fan, Drea?”

“It’s fine. Lobster rolls are nice.” Only my favorite! She bit the inside of her lip until the metallic taste of blood rolled through her mouth. Why was she seething over a dinner the two mismatches weren’t even having? If they went out for lobster, there would be bibs. Bibs! Nothing was less sexy.

Which got her thinking—how unsexy could a date be? Now, that was a challenge she could accept.

“Since rolls in a seaside shack aren’t much of a thing here, why don’t I book you a table at a nice restaurant? You can chat over some wine and get to know each other better.” She could have sworn he’d frowned at that.

“Nice idea. A later dinner would work better for me. I have a full day Thursday. Good thing that isn’t an office day for you, eh?”

Andy had actually booked a full spa day for Thursday in anticipation of Friday shenanigans—massage, mani/pedi, bikini wax. Not anymore. She had work to do.

“Actually, Thursday will be a fairly full day for me as well. Lots of loose ends to tie up. I’m sorry I won’t see you before your big night, though.” Sorry not sorry. It’s just become a big night for me, too.

A feeling of déjà vu settled over her as she purposely forgot to confirm the reservations. And on Thursday, as she removed his wallet from the suit jacket Blake had left behind during his rigorous schedule of meetings, she had déjà vu again. Because as she settled the billfold into his desk drawer, where he would never look before his date—but not find it a strange place for the wallet to be found the next day—she again felt no guilt.

The guilt also failed to materialize on the fourth and fifth dates she sabotaged with no gluten-free menu items and another lost reservation, respectively.

Chapter Sixteen

Andy couldn’t keep from humming as she put on a final coat of mascara. Funny how getting laid on a regular basis could change a woman’s outlook on life. They’d stuck to their rules, maintaining their professional relationship. But after work hours, they’d christened every surface in the office. Without ever speaking about it, they both arrived early. And stayed late. And Andy had lost ten pounds from missed lunches—or perhaps, from the extra physical activity.

Looking at her reflection, she almost didn’t see the black circles under her eyes from losing sleep over Jane. Not that she would be a problem much longer.

Andy swept some lip gloss on and checked herself a final time in the hall mirror. She had to admit, sex looked good on her. Unlike the last time she’d readied herself to go to Blake Donovan’s house, this time she was going as herself. She also wasn’t planning any sort of seduction, though she had put on a pretty matching panty-and-bra set just in case.

“I don’t get it.” Lacy stood next to the front window, looking below for Darrin’s van to pull up to take her to a gig and drop Andy off at Blake’s on the way. “Is this a booty call or not?”

“It’s not.” Which was the truth. Technically.