Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
The devil himself seemed to blaze out of Gabby’s eyes. “I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him.” Every word had a period after it.
Michaela couldn’t help smiling. “I take it that’s a no.”
Gabby growled. “That’s a hell no.” Then a wicked glint appeared in her eye. “Can I hire you to matchmake for him?”
She wanted to laugh. Wouldn’t it be lovely to turn the tables on Troy Harrington? “Absolutely.”
Gabby punched the air. “He won’t know what hit him.” Then she gazed at Michaela for a long moment. “I guess that means you know about the bet?” she said in a whisper, as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear.
Michaela nodded. “I know that’s why he hired me. And that’s why you want to hire me to turn the tables on him.”
Gabby’s laughter burst out again. “I’m going to win.”
“I have only one stipulation,” Michaela said, noting the turndown of Gabby’s smile. “I can only matchmake for Troy if I also matchmake for you.”
Gabby shook her head, her beautiful strawberry-blond hair flying. “No way. I’m not doing that.”
“If I match him, it’s only fair that I match you. After all, Troy came to me first. I can’t let you hire me if I won’t let him hire me too.” She stared Gabby down, neither of them blinking for a long moment, until Michaela said, “It’s all or nothing.”
Gabby gave a little stamp of her foot, showing herself to be the youngest child in the Harrington clan. Then, with a huff, she said, “All right. But I’m not going out with just anyone. He’s got to be perfect.”
Michaela’s smile grew. “I know what you’re thinking—that I’ll never find the perfect man. But you’ll be surprised.” That was her job, finding the perfect match.
And she would do it for his sister and for Troy.
Chapter Five
“Like hell I’m letting you make a match for me!”
Michaela and Gabby had cornered Troy away from the rest of the family. He wasn’t sure any of them would stick up for him if they learned about the bet and that he’d tried to hire Michaela to matchmake for Gabby.
Michaela wasn’t intimidated. On the contrary, her smile was serene. “I can’t make a match for Gabby if I don’t make one for you too.”
Dammit. They’d turned the tables on him. He should have known Gabby would try something like this. His younger sister was devious. And yet she smiled so sweetly. “I’ve already agreed that I’ll do it if you will.”
Michaela went on, “All you have to do is go on the date. If there’s chemistry, then it’s all good. If not—” She shrugged. “—we’ll look for someone else.”
He shuddered at the thought of going out night after night with a stream of women he didn’t know. Now, if one of those women were Michaela…
But he wasn’t in the market for a match.
Still, his sister had backed him into a corner, literally and figuratively. Or more aptly, he had backed himself into it. Going to a matchmaker was probably the dumbest idea he’d ever had. He should have combed through his business associates and acquaintances, his old diving buddies. Damn, Dirk Pendergast would have been perfect if Michaela hadn’t already found his bride for him.
Troy looked from Michaela to Gabby and back. He was totally screwed. He’d started it, and now he’d have to pay the price. “Okay, fine, I agree to let you matchmake for us both.” Then he grinned wickedly and narrowed his eyes at Gabby. “But the woman has got to be perfect.”
When Michaela found a match for him, he’d find some reason to declare the woman a bad match and get out of the date.
Gabby waggled her eyebrows at him. “And if you refuse to go on any dates Michaela finds for you, you forfeit the bet.”
Damn. His sneaky little sister had him again. He glared at her. “Same goes for you.”
She laughed in his face.
He could have growled, but that was beneath him. “All right. Find us both a date.”
“Good.” Then Michaela made a shooing motion at him. “Now I need to talk with your sister to learn exactly the kind of man who would be perfect for her.”
He gaped. “Don’t you need to talk to me about my perfect woman? It wouldn’t be fair to send me out on dates with women I might not have anything in common with.”
She sighed as if she wanted to roll her eyes. “I already have you figured out,” she said dryly.
Wait. What? Was that an insult?
Or maybe she’d already figured out that his perfect date would be with a woman who looked and smelled and acted exactly like Michaela.
Fernsby stood like a sentinel beside the portrait Gareth Tate had painted of him. It bore no resemblance to him whatsoever. The man in the portrait looked like he had a pole up his behind and lacked any expression, though admittedly the cut of the clothing was expensive and immaculate, and the eyes were the same gray. The features bore a few craggy lines, which Fernsby admitted to having. But the lips were too thin, and the nose was a veritable beak. Surely that was the feature the artist had exaggerated, because there was always an exaggerated feature in each of Gareth Tate’s portraits. Yes, that had to be it—the nose. Fernsby tipped his chin in the same pose as the portrait.