the stories in all the local papers regarding Derrick Brandt’s professional successes and personal flops. Usually businessmen did not garner the kind of media coverage Derrick received. With his rags-to-riches background and camera-perfect face, he was a fascinating figure to the citizens of Philadelphia. Especially when it became obvious that, despite his financial acumen, he had the social grace of a camel. As far as the local tabloids were concerned, Derrick Brandt was the best kind of celebrity figure: prone to public emotional outbursts.
He argued with his girlfriends in busy restaurants. He assaulted cameramen who got too close. He had a well-known reputation for being rude and surly, the by-product of which was that for the right price, people in the service industry were eager to betray him. He was considered a playboy, although not a very successful one.
In other words, Derrick Brandt was a paparazzi dream come true. The local media had even gone so far as to give him the odious label of The Most Ineligible Bachelor in the City.
And now the man—and all the media attention that went along with him—was sitting in Noelle’s office seeking her help in finding his perfect mate. When he’d called her last week to schedule the appointment, Noelle had immediately seen the opportunity for what it was. The chance of a lifetime.
Finding the right woman for Derrick Brandt would garner media attention for her firm that could not be bought. It would be said that if Love Unlimited could find a match for the most ineligible bachelor in Philadelphia, they could find a match for anyone! Noelle could already see the headlines, and the droves of new clients that would follow.
First, in order to do that, she would have to put her personal dislike for the lecherous man aside and apply herself to doing what she did best. Matching couples based on common interest, physical attraction and the most likely long-term compatibility. Or, in Derrick Brandt’s case…finding Ms. Right for Mr. Wrong.
Chapter 2
The light tapping on the door alerted Derrick to the identity of his visitor even before the door opened. A gray head of hair peeked around the edge, and Derrick could not resist the smile that came to his lips whenever she walked into the room. Camille Massey, his business partner, his benefactor, his friend…his savior.
The elderly woman started to enter the room until she realized Derrick was on the phone. She started to back out, but he raised a hand to halt her.
“I have another meeting to get to. Can we wrap this up?” He spoke into the intercom while motioning Camille to come in.
He listened to some final comments, but his attention was riveted on Camille as she made her way across the room. She was moving more slowly than usual today. He frowned, knowing what that meant: her rheumatism was acting up again. Derrick was tempted to drop the phone and go help her. But Camille was a proud woman who would not welcome his assistance. The meeting was called to an end. Derrick said his good-byes and hung up the phone.
He sat back in his plush leather chair, waiting while she settled into the guest chair at the side of his desk, a large, comfortable wingback chair he kept there just for her, knowing the small if stylish guest chairs that decorated the rest of the office suite were uncomfortable to her brittle bones.
“Why aren’t you using one of the walking canes I bought you?” he asked gruffly, watching as she straightened the pleats of her skirt around her.
“Because I don’t need them,” she muttered and, once satisfied with her appearance, settled back in the chair. “Well?”
Derrick knew exactly what she was waiting for, but he wasn’t about to make it easy. “Well?”
Her soft brown eyes narrowed menacingly. “Don’t play with me, boy.”
Derrick burst into laughter. “Why not? You play with everyone else. We’re all just puppets on your strings, myself included.”
“Am I going to have to call over there myself?”
“You wouldn’t.”
She smirked. “Has twenty-five years with me taught you nothing?”
Derrick sat up in the chair. “Okay, you would. But don’t.”
“Then answer me.”
He sighed in defeat. “It went fine.”
“Fine? That’s all? Did they find a lady friend for you?”
“Camille, it’s not a supermarket. You don’t walk in and grab a girl off the shelf and carry her to the checkout lane. These things take time.”
She frowned. “How much time? You don’t wear well.”
He frowned back. “More than one day, that’s for sure. Apparently, she had to—”
“Who’s she?”
“Noelle Brown, the owner.”
Camille stared into his eyes for several seconds before her face spread into a wide grin. “Well, well…Tell me about this Ms. Brown.”
“Before you start cackling in glee, that’s Mrs. Brown.”
The smile disappeared. “Married? Humph, that’s too bad. I haven’t seen that look in your eyes at the mention of a woman in years.”
“Yeah, well, it won’t be that woman. You know how I feel about sharing.”
“Unfortunately,” she muttered, toying with the pleats of her skirt, “half of Philadelphia knows how you feel about sharing.”
Derrick decided to let the comment slide instead of getting into another argument about his lack of discretion last year, when he heard his then-girlfriend, Mira, was out club-hopping with another man. The media had made sure Derrick was aware of the situation and then sat back with their cameras ready and let Derrick be…Derrick.
Looking back, he would be the first to admit he did not handle it well, but controlling his emotions had never been easy. All he could remember was the pure rage he felt walking into the nightclub and seeing his woman pressed against another man on the dance floor. Later, Derrick would discover the man was Mira’s old college friend Byron, who also happened to be a happily committed gay man. By the time he discovered these facts, it would be too late to straighten things out with Mira. Because soon after, she would betray him on the front page of the Herald with the revealing exposé titled “The Man Behind The Myth.”
“Mira wasn’t the one anyway,” he muttered, feeling some need to defend his actions.
Camille twisted her mouth in a silent expression that spoke volumes.
“Did you see the plans for the Marquardt Building?” he asked, seeking to end the discussion regarding his troubled love life.
“Yes. When are you presenting them?”
“Next week.” He watched as she rubbed her right knee. “Are you okay?”
She smiled sadly. “Yes, just the cost of living too long.”
Derrick looked into the wise old eyes of the woman who’d come to mean so much to him and once again wondered where he would’ve ended up had it not been for the intervention of Camille Massey.
“Where would I have ended up if you hadn’t intervened in my life?”
Camille snorted. “You would’ve been just fine. You’re tough as nails, Derrick Brandt. You always have been.”
He huffed. “Who are you kidding? We both know I was a statistic just waiting to happen.” His eyes took on a faraway look as he remembered his troubled childhood. “If you hadn’t given me a job that day I showed up here.” He shook his head.
“Well, I did.” She rubbed her knee once more before struggling to her feet. Derrick was instantly at her elbow, gently steadying her. “And I have never regretted the decision.” She looked directly into his eyes, and Derrick couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride. She’d believed in him, and he’d