you’re sitting here sulking. Like a child.”
Being blunt had the desired effect. The look on his face made her want to laugh. He couldn’t even frown at her, she’d shocked him so greatly.
She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Don’t take yourself so seriously—or me, either, for that matter. I’m friends with Lana, you’re friends with Lana, so that makes us friends, too. As your friend, I’m here to help you get your party on.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. At least she had his attention—totally, this time—and he looked like he was actually close to smiling. “How fortunate for me. I thought I’d never manage to get my party on. It was worrying me considerably.”
“Glad to hear we agree. Now, I was saying that you are at a big advantage because you’re a man.”
“Is that right?”
“You can ask a girl to dance. You have no idea what a luxury that is. This would be much harder if you were a woman. If you saw a likely candidate, you’d have to strategically stand where he could see you, make a little eye contact, flirt a little, and hope he asked you to dance.”
“I doubt you are saying this from experience. You don’t strike me as a wallflower.”
“I never ask the man to dance. I only approached you because you were so obviously in need of a little coaching.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ll thank me later, trust me,” she said, answering his sarcasm with sauciness. “Now, what kind of woman do you think you want?”
He looked toward the dance floor, but Lana and Braden weren’t there. They’d probably gotten a hotel room—they were practically on their honeymoon.
Diana sighed dramatically. “Okay, okay. You think Lana is the perfect woman. Then let’s find you a woman like Lana.” Diana scanned the crowd. “Gosh, everyone is so beautiful. The whole ballroom is beautiful. Isn’t it great?”
When he made no comment, she turned to him. “Don’t you think it’s a great night?”
He shrugged, an uncaring movement of masculine shoulders under fine black wool.
“Well, it is. Everyone’s so sparkly. And happy.” She poked his lapel, earning herself another raised eyebrow. “And you’re going to be happy tonight, too.”
“What makes you think I’m not happy?”
Diana started to laugh, but she had the sudden intuition he was asking a sincere question. The man needed to take a good look in the mirror.
Diana decided to be that mirror. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, hard. Dropping her voice to the lowest bass she could manage, she said, “What makes you think I’m not happy?”
Quinn scowled back at her for a good, long while. Then he uncrossed his arms and looked away with a little shake of his head. “That bad?”
“That bad, but not for long. Let me just find you the perfect partner.”
“Do you often perform your matchmaking services for total strangers?”
“All the time.” Every weekend, in fact, but she wasn’t going to tell James Bond that. Every weekend, she volunteered at an animal shelter where she matched total strangers with the perfect pets.
This Quinn-in-a-tuxedo wouldn’t appreciate that her skills had been honed on dogs, but people weren’t much different. It was all a matter of finding complementing temperaments, something Diana had found success at by relying less on talking and more on facial expressions and body language.
Diana trusted her mad matchmaking skills. Lana would never have been right for Quinn, even if she’d been available, but Quinn would never believe Diana. Perhaps she should let him figure it out for himself. “Look—there’s a Lana look-alike for you. Go ask her to dance.”
When he didn’t budge, she put her hand on his shoulder and pushed.
Quinn shook his head as he stood. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”
But he did. The woman was petite and slender, with shiny, straight black hair and an air of confidence about her. Diana watched her graciously present her hand to Quinn, so he could lead her to the dance floor. Like so many men in Texas, men who grew up leading women in the Texas two-step and country waltzes, Quinn was obviously a confident dancer. He and his partner looked elegant together, dancing to a Frank Sinatra standard.
Still, Diana wasn’t surprised when Quinn returned after only one dance. The Lana-type wasn’t what he needed.
“Well?” she prompted him as he sat next to her once more.
“She was the perfect woman—just ask her. She’s chairing the board at whichever museum she said, and she’s running a gardening gig, all out of the kindness of her heart.”
“Charity work sounds like something Lana would do.”
“She wouldn’t brag about it.”
“True, true. Your Lana look-alike was too old for you, anyway.” Diana had a feeling this man would too easily retire into a sedate, settled lifestyle if she let him. Well, not if she herself let him, but if he were matched with the wrong woman, he’d find himself talking politics with gray-haired gentleman at a prestigious club in no time. Quinn was probably only thirty or so. He ought to be surfing or mountain-climbing, not serving on museum boards with a society wife.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my dear matchmaker,” he said. “Lana’s only two years older than I.”
“She’s taken. Get over it.” Really, some cases needed a little tough love. Diana patted his arm, though, to soften her direct words. “Okay, at your three o’clock. Blonde in the sheath dress. A knock-out and still in her twenties. She might enjoy bungee jumping.”
Suave Mr. Bond was apparently caught off guard by that. He gave away his surprise with a discreet cough, a polite clearing of the throat. “Is bungee jumping the criteria now?”
“Go.”
Humoring her, which Diana took to be a sign of progress already, Quinn walked over and struck up a conversation. Diana watched his nod toward the dance floor, watched the woman light up and say yes. Who wouldn’t?
It only lasted one dance. After a polite thank-you nod to the woman, Quinn returned to Diana.
“No?” she asked.
“No.”
“Give me something to go on.”
“She still lives at home with Daddy. Rich Daddy. She wanted to know if I thought a trip to Europe would really be more educational than a trip to the Caribbean. Daddy thinks it would be.”
“Not Lana-like at all, you’re right. You want someone more educated, then?”
“I want someone who is less into money. Lana’s no gold digger.”
Diana felt her first little zip of irritation toward him. She doubted he’d meant to insult her, but there it was. “I would never have matched you with a gold digger.”
“I assure you, Daddy’s Girl would be one very expensive entanglement.”
From their side-by-side chairs, they could easily see the woman with her group of friends. She’d just dropped her gem-studded clutch. She made absolutely no move to pick it up, but pouted down at it, as if the purse had somehow misbehaved. Diana watched with amusement as another woman in her circle picked up the clutch and handed it back.
“That’s not a gold digger, Quinn. She expects expensive things and an easy life, but only because she’s always been given them. Always, from day one, and most definitely by Daddy. She just assumes everyone around her is rich, like she is. That’s not the same thing as a gold digger. Those women calculate which