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)
No, definitely, that man was nothing like him. Especially that nose.
He stood beside it to disabuse anyone of the notion that he was the subject.
But then he smiled, keeping his lips thin so that no one would realize it was a smile, and tipped his nose to sniff out potential romance in the air.
Michaela. What a lovely name. She, Gabrielle, and Troy appeared to be engaged in a heated conversation across the room.
Fernsby noted with delight the way Troy touched the young woman’s arm, a light brush of his fingers that perhaps Michaela didn’t even notice.
Troy had followed the woman around like a lovesick puppy, making all the introductions, never leaving her side. At least not until Gabrielle had dragged her off to that corner. Or had it been the other way round? Not that it mattered. If he were alone, Fernsby might have danced a jig. He was reminded of the song, parts of which Dame Angela Lansbury—such a pity the talented lady was now gone from their midst—sang so sweetly in the animated version of Beauty and the Beast, “Something There.” There was definitely something there with the dear boy that Fernsby had never seen before.
All Troy needed was a little nudge in the right direction. Right into the arms of Michaela Killian.
And Fernsby’s work would be done. Of course it would be. Because he was Fernsby. He could sniff out a budding romance before the lovebirds themselves even knew it.
He’d found Troy’s perfect match, long before the billionaire matchmaker could begin to guess what was coming.
“What a delightful time we had,” Michaela’s mother said.
The limousine Troy had rented for them flew home smoothly along Highway 1. Michaela had hoped—no, not hoped, expected that Troy would accompany them, since he also lived in Los Gatos. But he’d ushered them into the limo waiting outside the gallery.
Maybe he was annoyed that she’d cornered him into agreeing to a match. She’d expected him to climb into the limousine and give her a few choice words. But he’d merely held her elbow as he guided her inside, where another bottle of champagne awaited them.
She shook her head. Billionaires.
Her mother poured them each a glass. “I had such a lovely time with Susan Spencer.”
Susan and her mother had spent more than an hour together, chatting away, laughing, and hitting it off spectacularly. She was glad Flo had found another friend.
“She even invited me for coffee next week, just the two of us. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Marvelous.” Michaela couldn’t help smiling over her mother’s enthusiasm.
Flo loved meeting new people. “They weren’t at all what you’d imagine a bunch of billionaires to be—not stuffy or standoffish or snobby.” She didn’t even look to Michaela for agreement. “Everyone was so welcoming. Even Smith Sullivan and his wife Valentina. You’d think, being such a mega movie star, that Smith would be a little full of himself. But he was delightful, wasn’t he?” She didn’t pause for Michaela’s answer. “And the Mavericks. Susan couldn’t say enough good things about them.”
Michaela had to point out, “Of course not. They’re her foster sons.”
Flo waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be silly. They’re her sons,” she said, underlined and italicized. “I’ve never seen a more close-knit family.” She paused. “Unless you compare them to the Harringtons.” Oh, hadn’t she slipped that in ever so smoothly.
Susan had brought Flo over to meet Troy’s family. Gabby had even hugged her, surprising the heck out of Michaela when she said, “I’m so excited. Michaela’s going to matchmake for both me and Troy.” Mischief had sparkled in her gaze.
Matchmaking for those two was going to be a nightmare.
Troy had snorted, but now her mother was giving her a look. That look. Because, while Michaela matched for billionaires, her mother was constantly matchmaking for her.
It was time to steer the conversation in another direction. “Walter Braedon seemed quite smitten with you.”
While her mother was usually direct, looking a person in the eye, never hemming and hawing, she now examined her fingers clasped around the champagne glass and hemmed and hawed. “Oh, well, I don’t know…”
Thank God. Michaela had successfully steered her away from talk of Troy Harrington. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
Her mother took a great gulp of champagne, which went down the wrong way and turned into a cough. Or maybe that was a ruse so she wouldn’t have to answer. Michaela waited her out, then finally asked, “So, did I see a little spark there?”
Flo finally gained her composure. “Don’t be silly. He’s a handsome man, especially with those dimples. I won’t deny that. But seriously, I’m not his type. He’s a billionaire, with all those young ladies hanging on him.”
Michaela could only gape at her. Now it was her turn to say, “I didn’t see a single young lady hanging on him. And I’d match you with a billionaire any day.”