Even back then every profile he read seemed flat, every picture the same as the last. For weeks he’d been more interested in gazing in the eyes of the woman who shared his office than in flipping through the head shots of attractive strangers. He’d often ask more questions than he needed just so he could listen to Drea’s voice. Just so he could have an excuse to engage with her.

Continuing that string of horrible dates with the most boring woman alive was convenient. Jane Osborne—he circled the name on her file. It was nice, not having to make awkward small talk on a hundred first dates. But the slightly easier small talk he had with Jane was nothing compared with the banter he had with Andrea. He couldn’t admit it at the time, too stubborn to look at the truth staring him in the face, but it was there all the same.

Now he was as desperate to shout it to the world as he was to deny it before—he was in love with Andrea Dawson.

He repeated the words in his mind, letting the statement settle in his soul. I am in love with Andrea Dawson. Completely, utterly, undeniably in love.

The most surprising part of the whole thing was how un-shocked he was at the revelation. He should have been reeling. Should have been tearing his hair out. Yet he’d never felt more calm.

Wasn’t that something?

He sipped his beverage and thought about what this revelation meant for the future. Could he really be considering what he was considering? Andrea didn’t fit any of the requirements he’d listed for a wife, yet it didn’t feel like she had any qualities that were missing. He was strongly attracted to her physically—the semi he had at that very moment from thinking about her was proof. She talked a lot, but that was fine. He actually enjoyed listening to every word that came out of her pretty mouth. Well, almost every word—sometimes she could be awfully pointed with her observations about him, but only with things he needed to hear.

She didn’t cook or clean. So what? They had Ellen. When Ellen retired, they’d find someone else. And if Drea wanted to keep working, so be it. He’d actually prefer having her at Donovan InfoTech where he could see her all day long. Or if she wanted to do something else, that was fine, too. It didn’t matter what she did all day, just as long as she was happy and there to come home to at the end of it.

That was really what it all came down to—he wanted Andrea in his life. Permanently. And not as a matchmaker, but as his match.

Was that entirely ridiculous? No. Not entirely. He had planned on getting married, after all. He just hadn’t planned on the falling-in-love part. But other people didn’t plan on it, either, and all the time they were getting married and living happily ever after. That it had happened to him as well was unexpected, but not ridiculous.

What was entirely ridiculous was that he wanted to marry Andrea now. Well, not now now; even he saw the inconvenience in running away to Vegas on a moment’s notice. And the talk that went around couples who eloped—it just wouldn’t be fair to Andrea. But he did want to propose as soon as possible. As in today.

Blake’s palms grew sweaty and his pulse ticked up a notch.

Could he do really do that? Propose spontaneously without any forethought or premeditation? Maybe he could wait. He should wait.

He pulled out a desk drawer and retrieved the beloved copy of his five-year plan. It was worn and faded, and, honestly, he had every step memorized. Still, he studied it now. The document assumed a six-month engagement after an equally long courtship, and then a moderate-sized wedding with a budget not to exceed one month’s salary. Sure he’d been sleeping—or not sleeping—with Andrea for weeks now, but he’d say the courting hadn’t officially started until the night before. Nowhere on the agenda was there an allowance for proposing after a one-night dating period. Nowhere was there an allowance for falling in love with his matchmaker. Nowhere was there an allowance for Andrea.

And that was unacceptable.

If there was no Andrea in his plans, then to hell with his plans.

Without another thought, he tore the document in half. Then in half again. And then again and again until the entire thing was nothing but shreds that he tossed in his trash can. Instead of feeling terrified or anxious as he would have supposed that he’d feel, he felt liberated. Because of her—that woman still sleeping in his bed—because of her he was a changed man. Changed for the better. He didn’t need to map everything out. He could deviate and improvise. He could be his true self instead of hiding away his interests and passions. In fact …

He opened another drawer and pulled out the miniature pinball machine he kept out of sight and set it proudly on his desk, front and center. So long to his old self. He was a new man. A new man who could propose on a whim, if he wanted. And he wanted.

His entire body tingled with his decision, as if he’d been asleep and only now was coming to life. He was going for it, full out. Today his search for a bride would end.

He formulated a new plan—okay, so he still required strategy to his spontaneity; habits die hard, as they say. He had a meeting across town at ten, and Long’s Jewelers didn’t open until nine thirty. That wasn’t enough time for selection, but the general manager was a member of his pinball league. Blake was sure he could call in a favor there. Was six thirty too early to phone him? He’d arrange flowers, of course. Though Drea always recommended roses as the standard, he knew she personally preferred lilies. He could order them, but he’d rather pick some up for her himself. He made a mental note to do that on his way to the office.

Next he needed to set up dinner reservations somewhere fancy. But where?

He found the restaurants file and flipped through the information Drea had gathered. Oleana was too exotic. La Campania, too casual. Hamersley’s, too country. Menton, too pricey.

Wait—pricey was perfect for special occasions. It was perfect for Drea. It was short notice but it was a Monday evening, so his chances of getting in were better. He circled the number with his pen then called the reservation line to leave a message. Since he knew he’d be out all morning, he requested they call his secretary with the confirmation.

Now there was only one thing left to deal with—Jane. He debated whether he should phone the woman now, or later. Later was probably best. He could get away with an early-morning call to his league companion, but Jane Osborne would likely be disappointed by his breakup. Crushed, even. He really didn’t need to deal with tears on such a wonderful day as this.

Maybe he could have his secretary handle the breakup for him …

Even as he thought it he knew that was wrong. Jane had been pleasant enough in all respects. She deserved a softer letdown than that. Besides, Drea would be unimpressed if he didn’t behave as a gentleman. He decided he could squeeze in a quick visit to Jane before dinner with Andrea. Roses would be a nice touch. He’d have his secretary order those and have them sent to the office so he could take them to Jane personally. He shot off an email with the request. Then he opened up Jane’s file and jotted down her address and phone number for later.

Now to set everything else in motion. He called his friend from the jewelers and arranged a pre-store-hours shopping trip for eight thirty. Next, he wrote a note for Andrea. He didn’t agonize over it as much as he thought he would, the words seeming to come with ease:

Good morning, love. I had some things to take care of this morning and then meetings until noon. Keep your lunch free—I’d like to take you out to discuss our profile. Everything’s changed now, hasn’t it? For the better, I believe. Coffee’s in the pot and breakfast’s in the oven. In case you have no cash, I’ve left you some for a cab.