MATCHMAKER (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (2 page)

“No, I… That’s, like, my favorite movie.”

“It’s a good movie.”

“Two was kinda weak, but I still liked it,” she said.

Sterling found it hilarious that a conversation about an alien bounty hunter was apparently what it took to get this girl to warm up to him. He remembered watching the movie with his dad, and it had scared the hell out of him.

Sterling nodded. “Much better than the
Alien vs. Predator
movies.”

“God, those were garbage! They should have been great, but that’s what happens when you give something like that a PG-13 rating! Also, I felt like there were too many humans, and they should have just let the aliens and predators duke it out.” Cherise caught herself. “I’ll say you like action movies.”

“That’s a fair statement.”

“What’s the last book you read?”

Was she trying to imply he didn’t read? He rattled off three titles, one of them a popular science fiction novel. He suddenly felt odd telling a stranger all this information about himself.

“Favorite food? Again, don’t pick rich people shit.”

“Calamari. But only on the beach after dark with tequila.”

“Ooh, that’s good. Anything else you want the future Mrs. Waters to know about you?”

That I’ll never love her
, Sterling thought.
I promise she won’t want for anything and will always be comfortable. But I don’t have a heart to give
.

CHERISE

Brad Chadwell—Cherise couldn’t think of the man without assigning him both names—gave Cherise a ride home to the apartment she shared with Ricky.

“Are you always going to be this late?”

In a few minutes, the clock in the hall would chime nine. She’d been lost in thought about some of the things he’d said, oscillating between a normal guy who loved
Predator
to an ivory tower elite snob. Ricky’s tone jarred her and immediately put her on the defensive. She stiffened, setting her jaw.

“You know, if I’d had to get a job at the mall, I’d probably get home even later.”

“Yeah, but this is a job for some rich creep.”

“He’s not a creep.” The jury was still out on whether that was true or not, but she wasn’t going to allow Ricky to crap on her new gig. Her new job which would keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. Ricky was an artist and took up one of the two bedrooms for his studio. To date, he hadn’t sold a single piece, which didn’t bother her so much as the fact that he’d never finished one.

“Look, I’m tired.” She crossed her arms over her chest and drew away from him.

“Hard work playing matchmaker? And what are you wearing?”

“It’s a professional job. I have to look good.”

“So you bought a new dress?”

She thought of the black card in her wallet and realized Ricky couldn’t know about it. The realization washed over her, and she felt grimy and a little ill.

She knew he wasn’t good for her, but they’d been together almost four years. She’d been there for him when his mother died. The money she’d left them had supported them for two years but was almost gone now. Ricky had taken care of Cherise while she was sick and applying to grad schools and taking the GREs. He used to be a good guy, but the more he stayed in, focusing on his art, the more it seemed to bleed out of him. He didn’t even see his mates anymore.

“I’m going to bed.”

“You get fancy new underwear to go with it?” he asked.

She had, but she didn’t want him seeing them. She had no interest in sleeping with him tonight, and if he saw the underthings she’d bought were black, he’d get all excited, and then they’d fight about never having sex anymore. Suddenly, Sterling’s assertions of being incapable of love made a lot of sense.

“Go back to your game, Rick.”

She should read the chapter for tomorrow’s psychology exam, but she didn’t have it in her. She’d get up early, post Sterling’s profiles, then dive into the psych book.

“I never see you anymore.”

“Last night, I asked if you wanted to come out with Kara and me.”

“I want to see you, not Kara.”

“So let’s go on a date. You and me, like old times.”

She did still love him, and she couldn’t exactly admit it to herself in so many words, but she wasn’t
in
love with him anymore. He’d turned into such a caricature of a whiny millennial artist.

“Friday?”

“I have to work.”

“What, are you going on his dates for him?”

“No, but there’s an event he wants me to go to with him.”

“This whole thing is weird, Cher. Really weird. You get that, right?”

“Yeah, but he’s paying me.”

“Has he paid you yet?”

“I’ll get a direct deposit at the end of every other week. I told you that. Why are you being so obsessive about this?”

“Have you looked this guy up?”

“Of course I have.” He was a cad. A player. Which is why he needed to find a wife in such an unorthodox way.

“And you’re cool with all this?”

“I’m making fifty dollars an hour. And if I find him a wife, he’ll pay for my school. He might even throw in a PhD. I can’t pass this up, Ricky.”

“It’s just weird, is all.”

“You’ve said that. Weird and very lucrative.” And it was fun. She’d never been in a place like his office, all sleek steel and glass and leather. She’d have the opportunity to go to his house and attend a party with Hollywood A-listers and people with more money than God. While she was there, she’d be making fifty dollars an hour, an incomprehensible sum. Why did Ricky have to shit on everything good?

She tried to derail him. “What are you working on?”

“Nothing. It’s not ready for anyone to see it.” His stock answer, and she wondered what he really did in there all day. Sometimes, when he was out, she’d sneak in and peek. There were tons of unfinished canvases, all of them with the potential to be really strong pieces. She’d tried encouraging him, helping him, but he didn’t want it. When he was ready, he’d get over the fear, and not a minute before then.

“Okay. I’m going to bed.” She braced herself for his protest, but he went back to
Halo
and she stole away.

She pulled the dress off and hung it carefully, marveling at the pretty sleekness of it. It cost fourteen hours of work at her new rate. The very idea of it made her dizzy. She pulled on her favorite purple pajama pants and one of Ricky’s old t-shirts. She listened to the sounds of the game from the living room and wondered if they’d cover the sound of her vibrator. It wasn’t like she wasn’t allowed to masturbate, but she could only imagine the fight they’d have if she didn’t want to have sex with him but did with herself.

It was worth the risk. She brushed her teeth and washed her face before slipping into bed and turning the vibrator onto its lowest setting. She let her mind roam.

The huge glass topped desk in Sterling’s office, the city laid out before them… She imagined herself sprawled across it, completely naked, the seven-hundred-dollar dress crumpled on the floor.

She imagined Sterling standing over her, pants around his knees.

She spread her legs for him, and he slid into her like a hot knife into warm butter.

Cherise came on her vibrator much harder than she usually did, her heart pounding and breath creeping out of her in hot gasps. Feeling guilty, she glanced at the door, but the sounds of the video games continued.

STERLING

Sterling sifted through the six pages Cherise presented to him. Each held a large photograph of a woman with several smaller photos.

He ran his eyes over each page, took one—a red-headed woman who was full figured. She had a nice face and beautiful eyes, but…

He ripped the page up.

“Nice work,” he told Cherise, meaning it. He pointed to a photo of a smiling blonde woman. “She’s my favorite. See if you can get her.”

Her pictures showed her in a tight dress with less attractive girlfriends by her side, all of them holding fruity-looking cocktails; her on a bicycle somewhere upstate; standing in a sarong on a beach at sunset; and her sitting on a rock by the ocean, her knees drawn up to her chest.

Yes, she would do just fine. Any of them would, really.

He stole a glance at Cherise. She stared intently at her laptop as she sent messages to each of the perspective candidates. She bit her full bottom lip as she concentrated, and watching her made his pants fit funny.

Well, at least his new girlfriend/fiancée/wife would be someone to have sex with. He thought about going out and trying to pick someone up or, even lazier, using one of the agencies in town. But he supposed since those days were rapidly coming to an end, he might as well stop now. Damn Ben Bachmann. He loved the man like a father—more than his father, perhaps—but this stipulation hurt. It shone a spotlight into parts of Sterling that he preferred to ignore.

He checked his watch. He was meeting Evan at three, and they were going to take the helicopter upstate to go rock climbing for a bit.

“I’m sorry. Am I boring you?” Cherise’s accent did not help his friskiness.

“No. I have a three o’clock.” He was kind of bored, though. “What did you do last night after you went home?”

“Nothing.” She said it quickly, and it made him wonder.

“You must have done something.”

A little color bloomed in her cheeks. She fascinated him. “Nothing at all. Got home and went to bed.”

“Do you live alone?”

“No.”

“Roommates?” He pictured her and another similarly attractive young woman, sitting around in their panties, chatting. Damn, he needed to snap out of it.

“No.”

“A boyfriend?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Not at all. Did you meet him on one of these sites you’re steering me to?”

“No. At an art class. He’s an artist.”

Sterling sensed there was trouble in paradise. He decided not to pry. “I drank scotch and played video games.”

“Ugh, seriously?”

He laughed. “I thought you sociology-psychology types weren’t supposed to be judgmental.”

“You have literally billions of dollars at your fingertips, and all you can think to do is play Xbox?”

“PlayStation, actually.”

“Ugh,” she said again.

“I can’t be rescuing orphans and kittens at all hours of the night, can I? I have to find some time to relax. Besides, online gaming affords me a certain anonymity. No one knows who I am when I’m pwning n00bs.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I get called a lot of names—especially when I’m gaming. Ridiculous has never been one of them.”

“Okay, she wants to meet you.”

“Which one?”

“Erika. The brunette.”

“Friday night? Dinner?”

“Don’t do dinner on a first date. In fact, I wouldn’t do Friday night for a first date. Go out for a beer, or for coffee, like on a Tuesday.”

He must have made a face, because she continued. “If you don’t like her and you have dinner, you’re stuck sitting through an entire meal. If it’s a weeknight, you can say you have to work in the morning.”

He laughed. He should have married Angela Calistrano when he turned twenty-one like Ben had wanted him to. Would have made life so much simpler.

“Okay, meet her at Porter’s Tuesday night at seven.” He had a meeting Tuesday, but he could reschedule it. “Oh, now Layla wants to meet. Wednesday?”

“Which one is Layla?”

Cherise tried to think of a way around it, but it was easiest to just say, “The Asian one.”

“Sure.”

She told him the name of a different bar. “I’m making a schedule for you. I’ll give you the text of all these chat sessions since you can’t be bothered to talk to these women on your own.”

“I’d think you’d want me to be bothered to pay you for your work.”

“I didn’t think you’d sit there watching me.”

“I’m not. We’re having a nice conversation.”

“If this passes for nice conversation, I pity these women. Oh, Stephanie wants to meet. Monday or Thursday?”

“Not Thursday.”

“So Monday.”

“That’s fine.”

“What’s on Thursday?”

“Rock climbing. The season’s almost over, and I’m not missing any good days.”

“What’s it like?”

“You’ve never been?”

“I’m a city kid.”

“Johannesburg?” She nodded. “How’s your upper body strength?”

“Subpar.”

“Then climbing would be hard for you. But, with practice, you’d have a great body for it.”

“What’s that mean?” She crossed her arms and drew away from him.

“You’re long and mostly lean. I bet you have a good reach. You’re not carrying extra weight. Would you like to try it?”