The Matchmaker's Happy Ending. Shirley Jump

part of her wanted to say yes, but the realistic part piped up, reminding her of the time and her To Do list, and her no-men-for-the-foreseeable-future resolve. Besides, there was something about that zing, something that told her if she caved, she’d be lost, swept in a tsunami. The mere thought terrified her. “I can’t. It’s late. And I have an early day tomorrow.”

      “On Saturday?”

      She raised one shoulder, let it drop. “My job is a 24/7 kind of thing.”

      He chuckled. “Mine, too. And even though every year I vow to work less and play more…”

      “You don’t.”

      He nodded.

      “Me, too.” Because work was easier than confronting the reasons why she worked too much. Because work was easier than taking a chance on love. Work she could control, depend upon. Love, not so much. But she didn’t say any of that. She released the door handle, and shifted to face him.

      Despite the fear, she didn’t want to leave. Right now, with Jack looking at her like that, his eyes lit by the street light above and his strong jaw cast in a dark shadow, her resistance was at an all-time low. Desire pulsed in her veins. She wished she had dragged him across the car and kissed him silly when she’d had the chance. So she delayed leaving a bit longer.

      “What do you do for work that keeps you busy late into the day and also on weekends?” She put a finger to her lip and gave him a flirty smile. “Let me guess. Lawyer?”

      “Hell, no.” He glanced down. “Oh, I get it. Pinstripe suit, power tie. Screams waiting to sue to you?”

      “Well, if the Brooks Brothers fits…”

      His smile widened, ending with a dimple. Oh, God. Dimples. She’d always been a sucker for them.

      “I’m…an investor,” Jack said. “Of sorts.”

      “Of sorts?”

      “I buy and sell businesses. I find ones that need a cash infusion, and if I think they’re viable, I invest. If I think they’re not, I buy them and either sell them again or break up the pieces and sell it off.”

      A shiver ran down her back. The leather seemed to chafe now, not comfort. “You’re…a corporate raider?”

      “I’m a little nicer than that. And I tend to work with small to medium-sized businesses, not giant Goliaths.”

      The connection fused in her mind. His job. His name.

      Jack Knight. Owner of Knight Enterprises. A “business investor”—a euphemism for his true identity. Jack Knight was a vulture. Feeding off the carcasses of desperate business owners.

      It had to have been the exhaustion of the day that had kept her from putting the pieces together until now. How could she have misread all the clues?

      And to think she’d wanted to kiss him five minutes ago. She bristled. “The size doesn’t matter to the company that gets sold off, or taken over, or destroyed in the process of that kind of ‘help.’”

      “I must have given you the wrong impression. There’s more to it—”

      “No, there really isn’t. You destroy people’s companies, and their lives.” The words sprang to life in her throat, fueled by exhaustion, shock, and surprised even Marnie with their vehemence. She never did this, never showed outrage, never yelled. Jack Knight had brought out this other side of her, with a roar. “Do you even think about what happens to those people after you swoop in and tear their company to shreds? They spent their lives building those companies, and in an instant, you take it all away. And for what? A bottom line? A few more dollars in your pocket? Another sports car for the collection?” She let out a gust, then grabbed the door handle. It stuck, then yielded, and fresh night air washed over her. She’d gotten distracted, by a dimple and a zing. Idiot. “Goodnight.”

      “Wait. What did—”

      She shut the door, cutting off his words. She’d confronted him, told him off, and told herself it felt good to finally say what she should say, exactly when she was supposed to say it. Jack idled in the space for a moment, then finally, he drove away, swallowed by the night.

      Disappointment hit her first. If only she’d kissed him. If only she’d let herself get talked into that cup of coffee.

      If only he’d been someone other than Jack Knight.

      Then righteous indignation rose in her chest. He was the one at fault, not her. He was the one who had ruined her father’s company, not her. If she’d told him what she really wanted to say to him, if she’d really let the confrontation loose, she’d have resorted to some very unlady-like behavior, and she refused to give him that satisfaction. Jack Knight didn’t deserve it, not after what he had done to her father.

      So she had said goodnight, got out of Cinderella’s carriage, and went back to the real world, where princes didn’t come along very often, and there were no mice to do the work for her.

      CHAPTER TWO

      “ARE YOU GOING to admit I was right?” Marnie whispered to her mother. They were standing to the side of the private dining room of an upscale Boston restaurant on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Soft jazz music filled the air, accented by the rise and fall of a dozen human voices.

      A blush filled Helen’s cheeks, making her look ten years younger. She had her chestnut hair up tonight, which elongated her neck and offset her deep green eyes. The dark blue dress she’d worn skimmed her calves, and defined the hourglass shape she’d maintained all her life, even after giving birth to three children. Coupled with the light in her eyes and the smile on her face, Helen looked prettier than ever, and far younger than her fifty-eight years.

      “Yes, you were right, daughter dear,” Helen whispered back. “How’d I get such a smart child?”

      “You gave me great genes.” Marnie glanced over the room. Cozy and intimate, the private dining space offered a prime location, great parking and an outstanding menu, making it perfect for Matchmaking by Marnie meet and greets. In her experience, full and happy stomachs equaled happy people who then struck up conversations.

      Today, she’d invited ten bachelors to meet her mother, and set up a buffet of finger foods on the far right side of the room. While they noshed on chicken satay and mini eggrolls, Helen circulated. Three days ago, when Marnie and Erica had proposed the idea of a mixer to Helen, she’d refused, insisting she didn’t need to be fixed up, and didn’t want to be, but after a while, she’d relented and agreed to “put in an appearance.”

      That appearance had lasted more than an hour now. Once the first man talked to Helen, and two more joined the conversation, Marnie had watched her mother transform into a giggling schoolgirl, flattered by all the sudden attention. Marnie made sure each bachelor got equal time, then stepped back and allowed the pieces to fall where they may. She’d paved the way, then let Mother Nature finish giving directions.

      “So,” Marnie said, leaning in closer so they wouldn’t be overheard, “is there one man in particular who you like the most?”

      Pink bloomed in Helen’s cheeks. “Do you see the one standing by the bar?”

      “The tall man with the gray hair?” Marnie and Erica had interviewed so many eligible gentlemen in the fifty-to sixty-plus age range that some of them had become a bit of a blur. She didn’t remember the details of this man, only that he had impressed her during the group interviews.

      “His name’s Dan. He’s retired from his landscaping business, hates to golf, but loves to watch old movies.” Her mother grinned, and in that smile, Marnie could see the energy of a new relationship already blossoming. “And, you’ll never guess what his favorite movie is.”

      Marnie put a finger to her lip. “Hmm…Casablanca?”

      Helen nodded. “Just like me. We