“You have a piece of lettuce stuck in your teeth.”
She blanched, and then placed her tongue over her teeth and sucked hard. “Is it gone?”
Damn, she was hot. “Yes. Gone.”
“Okay, that’s what I mean. You definitely want to let a woman know if she has something on her that could embarrass her, but you need to learn subtlety. A touch of your napkin to your mouth. A gentle smile and a tap of your finger over your teeth.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if I had something in my teeth or toilet paper stuck somewhere, don’t waste my time. Tell me.”
“Noted. Aren’t you going to have the last few fries?”
“No, here.” He pushed the plate across the table. “There’s only three. Live a little.”
She squirmed in her seat as if about to make the biggest decision of her life. Then palmed the three fries and began to nibble. The salt seemed to make her happy. A hazy glow of satisfaction came over her. Surrendering to her desires seemed to please her. Nate had a dozen other ways he’d like to make that look appear on her features, but he stopped himself from thinking about them—after all, she had flat-out refused to go out with him. Why would sleeping with him invoke any other response?
“Thanks,” she said, gesturing toward the fries. “Back to role-play. We just sat down and ordered. Let’s talk.”
She sucked on the fry as if intent on getting every last taste of salt from the murdered potato. Unfortunately, the distraction of her pink tongue, crooked tooth, and long, tapered fingers slammed another type of image into his brain. What was up with him? He needed to get laid fast, or he was just going to humiliate himself with her for the long term. “Umm, do you live around here?”
“Manhattan. How about you?”
“Westchester. Umm, do you have any hobbies?”
She sucked harder. “Yeah, I go to the gym three times a week. How about you?”
“I enjoy golf.”
“Oh, I’ve never played golf.”
He straightened up in his chair. “The sport is the perfect combination of skill and challenge. The swing is the key to success in the game, but it can be fine-tuned and changed to fit the individual. Tiger Woods actually spent more than a year completely redoing his swing in order to become a different type of golfer. Imagine the rush of watching the ball sail through the air and land perfectly on the green! Exciting, right?”
She finished the fries, and twirled her straw around in her glass. “Not really.”
Nate glared. “I don’t like this conversation. Let’s just admit we’re not suited for the long term.”
“Right there!” She jumped from her seat and pointed her index finger at him. “That’s where the breakdown occurs. You, Nate Dunkle, are a selfish conversationalist!”
He pushed his glasses up his nose. “What? I asked questions. She had no interest in me! She was bored by my explanation of golf.”
“And so am I. That doesn’t mean we couldn’t be the perfect match. You just don’t want to take the time and effort to dig deeper. You need to get out of your own ego and focus on her.”
Irritation coursed through him. “You make me sound like an ass. I dig. I scored high on the surveys in Cosmo!”
She gave a snort. “Those surveys are fixed and give no helpful information. If a woman doesn’t agree with what you say in the first five minutes, you declare her incompetent for a long-term relationship. She doesn’t like golf. Big deal. How about asking what she does like and why? Don’t you enjoy figuring things out at your job? People are the same. They’re puzzles, made up of various pieces that need analyzing and understanding. You throw them away too easily if they don’t fit your idea of what you want in a spouse, and you’re going to regret it.” Something flickered in her eyes. A memory? Was she talking about herself?
“Fine. Reset. But this time, just be you. Don’t pretend to be someone else.”
“I don’t think—”
“I do.” He studied her for a while. Took in her high forehead, the sweep of caramel-colored hair tumbling past her shoulders. Her face was a collection of interesting angles that fascinated him. Her pupils dilated as if his stare were an actual caress, and the color darkened to a deep whiskey. “What made you get into matchmaking?”
He waited her out. Finally, she gave up and took another sip of water. “Kate and Arilyn were my two best friends in college. After graduation, we went our separate ways for a while but ended up getting drunk one night and came up with the idea to start our own matchmaking agency. Kate is the overall director, Arilyn handles the computer stuff and counseling, and I do the recruitment and social events.”
“Most drunken ideas are forgotten come morning.”
The memory sparked a smile. “Not us. We nursed our hangovers and immediately began researching.”
“Smart. It’s hard to start a small business lately. Have you been successful?”
“Yep. Our marriage stats are increasing every day, and we’re finally seeing a steady profit.”
He smiled a bit at the raw pride in her voice. She had guts. Not many dove into the deep end, let alone swam without drowning. “Why Verily?”
“We didn’t want to compete with the big agencies in Manhattan. Verily is unique enough to be small-town but cosmopolitan, and we cater to a specific demographic. Only ages twenty-five to forty.”
“Interesting. That doesn’t limit your customer base?”
“No, it was a risky move, but we wanted a certain niche. We studied that market and became known for our elite clientele.”
“Millionaires only?”
She rolled her eyes. “You too? Has everyone seen that show? No, as long as you’re happy in your chosen work and heading toward a goal, it’s acceptable. Money isn’t the target. Love is.”
Nate loved the way she lit up when speaking about Kinnections. He adored confident women. Kennedy not only loved her job but she also served a higher purpose. She believed she was making the world a better place. Cliché, maybe. Sexy as hell, definitely.
“Have you taken on a client like me before? Worked with them so closely?”
“No, you’re my first.”
She stared back at him, and a crackle of awareness lit up the air. Her hand trembled around her glass, then steadied.