Another deep breath.

Except his interest was piqued. “What do you mean after the last few dates?”

She shrugged. “The other nights have been pleasant as well—don’t get me wrong. Tonight, though, everything went off without a hitch—for once. No lost reservations, no missing wallets, no wrong movie times. Though the valet is taking a while to get your car, so maybe I spoke too soon.” She laughed. “I’m only kidding. I’m sure they haven’t misplaced your car. And that’s my point. Tonight there has been none of that. It’s been nice. I’m … happy … about where we’re headed.”

Blake nodded absentmindedly. Happy. He hadn’t put much thought to the series of misfortunes that had marred their previous evenings. It was almost humorous how much had gone wrong for them. Repeatedly. Another couple may have taken their bad luck as a sign that they shouldn’t be together, would have assumed that the gods were out to sabotage them.

Or a person.

Something nagged at the back of his mind, a swirling whisper of an idea that began to take shape into a concrete notion. All of his other dates with Jane … the common thread … the element that had been missing in tonight’s dinner plans …

Andrea.

No. She couldn’t have. She wouldn’t.

But he knew Andy, knew that she could be passionate and irrational. Knew she had a hot temper and spontaneous nature. She’d burned Max Ellis’s employee files, and nearly his entire office, on a whim. She did have it in her to be subversive. And shitty. And … romantic.

Because, whatever motive would she have to wreck his courtship with Jane when Andrea had been hired to be his matchmaker? It made no sense.

Unless …

He put the pieces together and they fit perfectly, but was that because he wanted it to go that way? If there was only the slightest chance that he might be right, he had to pursue it.

With an excitement he hadn’t felt all evening, Blake pulled away from Jane and signaled the doorman. “Excuse me; can you hail a cab please?”

“Blake, your car’s coming now,” Jane protested, pointing to the valet who was pulling in.

“A cab, please,” he repeated. Then he turned to address his date. “The cab is for you.”

Jane raised her brows, but had the grace not to make a scene.

Blake was eager to be on his way, but he took a moment to do this right, speaking with an honesty he hadn’t offered to anyone in a long time—anyone except Andrea, that was. “Thank you for your offer, Jane. At one point in time it would have been tempting. More than tempting. I agree with you wholeheartedly that love makes any contract risky and tumultuous. It’s also the best damn feeling in the world. Not just being loved, but being in love. It’s chaotic, yes, and unpredictable. And I might get my heart broken”—oh, he hoped not—“but I’d rather have the ups and the downs than security. I’d rather take the chance at being miserable and alone than say I didn’t do everything in my power to nab the love of my life. So I’m sorry, but I have to end this relationship.”

That was all the effort he could devote to his second attempt at a breakup. He didn’t even wait to see Jane’s response. Instead, he tucked a fifty in her palm and said, “This is for your fare. And maybe a value meal, because the salad you ordered at dinner could not have filled you up. You deserve happiness, even if you aren’t asking for it. Especially if so.”

Then he tipped the valet, climbed into his car, and headed to the woman he should have been with all along. If she thought he was too headstrong, then too bad. He was taking his chances. Somehow he managed to obey the speed limit, but only just.

*   *   *

Andy woke with a start, her mouth dry and her face sticky. She didn’t remember falling asleep, yet she must have because here she was waking up on the couch. The light shining through the front windows was dim. Was it evening light or morning light? She sat up and tried to get her bearings.

“How are you feeling?” Lacy asked quietly.

Andy turned to find her sister sitting on the armchair, lacing up the Doc Martens she liked to wear when she went out. It must be night, then. Lacy had planned to meet up with Darrin and some other musicians at one of their favorite karaoke bars.

“I have a headache.” Andy was surprised how bad it was, actually. They’d only had one bottle before she’d passed out that afternoon, and Lacy had drunk half of it. Or maybe most of it had been consumed by Andy. Honestly, it was probably the heavy crying that had hurt her head the most.

That and the heartache. Arg, the heartache. How was anyone supposed to know how awful it felt? She finally felt an ounce of Lacy’s grief, knowing the man she loved was gone forever. Her pity had thrown her over the edge.

It had also put her in a foul mood. Though Lacy had been a great comfort to her when she’d come home that afternoon, Andy was glad that her sister had a gig that night. She really needed some time alone to sort through her ever-shifting emotions.

Lacy stood and switched on the overhead light.

Andy groaned and rubbed her temples. The light wasn’t bothering her in a hugely hung-over sort of way, but just in an I’d-rather-be-mopey-in-the-dark sort of way.

“There’s ibuprofen on top of the fridge,” Lacy offered.

“I know where the GD ibuprofen is,” Andy snapped. “I’m the one who put it there to begin with.”

“Well, sorry.” Lacy’s tone was sarcastic instead of apologetic.

But it wasn’t as sarcastic as it could have been, which made Andy suddenly feel like an apology was necessary. “No. I’m the one who’s sorry.” She didn’t really feel sorry, though. She just felt bitter and mean. Still, taking it out on Lacy wasn’t fair. “I’m just…” How to finish that sentence?

Lacy put a reassuring hand on Andy’s shoulder. “I know. You’re sad.”

“Actually, I’m past sad. Now I’m feeling a little angry.” Or a lot angry. “I’m getting that ibuprofen.”

Andy headed to the kitchen as much to escape her sister as to get the pain reliever. When she’d come home after quitting her job, she’d been gutted. She’d truly thought she and Blake had something special. How could she have been so wrong?

Now, though, her mood brought in another kind of thoughts—the rage-filled kind. It wasn’t her who’d been wrong. It was Blake. Stupid, douchey Blake. How much of an ass was he not to realize what was right in front of him? He thought he was in love with Jane? He wasn’t.

Andy knew that as surely as she knew Blake hated reality television. So he’d been on more than a handful of dates with Jane. That meant shit. His reports had been pleasant but lackluster. She’d seen him more engaged when he played with Puppy. She’d seen him more excited when he’d beaten his top score on Spiderman Pinball. She’d seen more light in his eyes when he’d locked them on her own during a passionate round of office sex.

Apparently, personal happiness was not on the list of Blake’s lifetime musts. She should have known that. He’d asked for specific qualities in a wife—not once had he said that she needed to be someone who brought him joy. Didn’t he realize what he was missing out on?

And now he was going to ask his dream woman to be his bride. His drear woman. What a miserable existence.

Andy glanced at the clock above the stove. It was almost nine thirty. He’d probably already asked.

Goddammit. How could he?

She had to stop herself from kicking the appliance. A broken toe was no way to help a broken heart. Though it might be worth it to get some of her aggression out.

Lacy clomped into the kitchen behind her. Andy imagined she was trying to be quiet, but it was impossible in those boots.

“You should come with me tonight.”

“No,” Andy said, reaching for the pain pills. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not? It will get your mind off things.”