description.”
Except it had the ring of uncomfortable truth. When his hair grew too long, Mrs. Gordon scheduled a haircut. His mother’s birthday—Mrs. Gordon picked out the gift. The wine-and-dine request had been a bit of a blurred line, but based on the set of Mrs. Gordon’s mouth, he’d pretty well turned the line into a trapezoid.
Mrs. Gordon shut down her computer for the night. “Well, it should be part of someone’s job description.”
“What, like a party planner?” Maybe he should hire a professional in some capacity, which wouldn’t cover all his social obligations. But it was better than nothing.
“Like a girlfriend. Or someone who might actually still be around in six weeks. Hire a wife,” she said with a nod. “You need a good woman to take care of you outside of the office. Ask her to glance at your gas gauge. She can schmooze Garrett and make sure your life is running smoothly. Keep you warm at night.”
Her eyebrows waggled but Leo barely noticed.
Hire a wife.
Could you even do such a thing? It seemed too perfect a solution.
He had no time—or the desire—to sift through women until he found one he liked but who also wouldn’t expect him to be available. Reynolds Capital Management did not manage itself. His employees and partners depended on him.
A wife couldn’t leave him with no notice. It was the ultimate security.
Leo would have a permanent companion to help fill that occasional hollow feeling, one with no hidden agenda involving his assets and connections. They’d both know from the get-go what to expect—stability. There’d be no hard feelings when she realized he hadn’t been kidding about giving 100 percent to his company, leaving nothing left over for her.
All or nothing. Commitment was Leo’s kryptonite. Once he latched on to something, he gave it everything and then some. Early on, he’d realized that trait was inherited and tried not to make the same mistakes as his father.
Then he’d met Carmen, who taught him the true depths of his weaknesses, and how easily one obsession could become the center of his existence. He practiced putting everything but the goal aside until it was second nature.
Love or success. His personality didn’t allow for both and after clawing his way out of the ghetto, he refused to gamble his future.
If he had an understanding wife, work and his personal life would remain completely separate. And best of all, Leo would never have to engage in small talk with a new woman or experience that sharp pang of guilt over canceling on one ever again.
Leo tugged on his suit jacket and hand delivered the proposal to Garrett’s people in their tiny downtown office. It wouldn’t be tiny for long. Investors far and wide were clamoring to get in on the ground floor with Garrett’s technology. Once the company went public, its worth would shoot to legendary status.
Leo had to land the deal with Tommy Garrett, and the wine-and-dine thing would be a fantastic opportunity to solidify his chances. A wife could handle the logistics, leaving Leo to engage in uninterrupted dialogue with Garrett about what Reynolds Capital could do for him that no one else could. His offer to Garrett didn’t expire for several weeks. He had plenty of time to get a wife in place.
When Leo returned to his darkened office, he sat at his laptop. Within fifteen minutes, Google provided a potential answer to the question of how to hire a wife. He’d had to wade through all the cleaning services and concierge services, then a few distasteful escort services, to find the definitive solution.
A matchmaking service.
Yes. Of course. It was not what he’d had in mind when he started the quest. Actually, he hadn’t been sure what he’d intended to find. But this was an intriguing answer. Leo had always thought he’d get married one day, when he could afford to transfer his energy to a relationship. Yet here he was on the downside of thirty-five and Reynolds Capital Management still took all of his focus. All of his time.
He stared at the logo for EA International. The website was professional and tasteful, with earth tones and a classic font. Most importantly, this particular matchmaker catered to exclusive clients, promising discretion and a money-back guarantee. Guarantees warmed Leo’s heart.
The tagline said it all—Let us help you find “the one.”
Presumably, “the one” for Leo would fit all his qualifications. EA International would do the screening, the interviewing, the background checks, and ultimately filter out candidates who were looking for some mystical connection. Love didn’t pay the bills, and Leo would never allow the power to be turned off on his family, the way his own father had.
It was brilliant. The matchmaker would do everything required to find Leo a wife. One he could never disappoint. All he had to do was make a phone call.
Then, with that settled, he could get back to work.
* * *
Daniella White had dreamed of her wedding since the first time she’d created crayon invitations to a ceremony starring Mr. Fourpaws as the tattered velveteen groom and herself as the fairy-tale bride wrapped in dingy sheets. Someday she’d wear a beautiful dress of delicate lace and silver heels. The guests would receive heavy card-stock invitations with a vellum overlay and eat a three-tiered French vanilla cake with fondant flowers.
Best of all, a handsome husband-to-be would wait for her at the end of a church aisle, wearing a tender smile. Later that night, the love of her life would sweep her away to a romantic honeymoon somewhere exotic and breathtaking. Theirs would be a marriage of grand passion and enduring love.
When her real wedding day finally arrived, Dannie could never have envisioned it would involve a groom she’d never met in person. Or that in a few minutes, she’d be marrying Leo Reynolds in the living room of a matchmaker’s house in North Dallas, with only a handful of guests in attendance.
“What do you think, Mom?” Dannie beamed at her mother in the cheval mirror and straightened a three-quarter-length sleeve. A dress of any sort usually appealed to Dannie, but this unadorned ecru one would be her wedding dress and she wanted to love it. She didn’t. But she’d make the best of it, like always.
EA International’s sophisticated computer program had matched her with businessman Leo Reynolds and he expected a wife with a certain refinement—one who dressed the part, acted the part, lived the part. Dannie had spent the past month under the matchmaker’s intensive tutelage to become exactly right for that part.
Dannie’s mother coughed profusely, hand to her chest as if she’d clear the scar tissue from her lungs through sheer will alone. “You’re beautiful, baby,” she said when she’d recovered. “Every bit a proper wife. I’m so proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
Yeah, it was really hard to put my name in a database. Dannie bit back the comment. She wasn’t a smart aleck anymore. No one ever got her jokes anyway.
Two sharp raps at the door shoved Dannie’s heart into her throat. Elise Arundel, Dannie’s fairy godmother–slash–matchmaker, popped into the room, her sleek, dark pageboy swinging. “Oh, Dannie. You look lovely.”
Dannie smiled demurely. She needed a lot of practice at being demure.
“Thanks to you.”
“I didn’t pick out that dress.” Elise nodded once. “You did. It’s perfect for your willowy frame. I’ve never had anyone who glommed on to cut and style with such natural talent.”
“I made up for it by being hopeless with cosmetics.” Dannie frowned. Did that seem too outspoken? Ungrateful? That was the problem with changing your personality to become a society wife—nothing came naturally.
Elise’s critical eye swept over Dannie’s face and she dismissed the comment with a flick of her manicured hand. “You’re flawless. Leo’s socks will be knocked off.”
And there went her pulse again.