Matched to Her Rival
Her heart knocked again.
“You’ve just won an evening with a matchmaker.” She stepped out of the door frame and allowed Dax passage into the foyer for the second time in two days.
She should have her head examined.
True to his word, he strolled past her without touching, went to the living room and set the wine on the coffee table.
She fetched wineglasses and he ordered the pizza. They settled onto the couch and three sips in, she finally relaxed. “This cabernet is amazing. Where did you find it?”
“In my wine rack.” He handed her the remote without grazing her fingers. It was carefully done. “I was saving it for a special occasion.”
“Right. Pizza and a movie is special.”
He didn’t move, didn’t touch her at all, but she felt the look he gave her in all the places his kiss had warmed the night before. “The company is the occasion, Elise.”
Prickles swept across her cheeks. The curse of the fair-skinned Irish. She might as well take out a billboard proclaiming her innermost thoughts. “We’ll get through the profile session much faster if you quit detouring to flatter me with platitudes.”
His head tilted as if he’d stopped to contemplate a particularly intriguing Picasso. “Why do you find it so hard to believe that I like you?”
Because he made a habit of working emotions to his advantage. Because he was a swan and she was not. Because to believe would be akin to trusting him.
But she ignored all that in favor of the most important reason. “You don’t ruin the reputation of someone you hold in fond regard. If you really like me, prove it. Let’s end this now.”
“To be fair, I didn’t know I was going to like you when I made that deal. But if you do your job, you’ve got nothing to worry about, do you?” He lifted his glass in a mock toast.
A part of her had hoped he’d take the opportunity to call it off, and she shouldn’t be so disappointed he hadn’t. Why—because she’d internalized his pretty words? Thought maybe he’d realized she was actually a very nice person and hadn’t deliberately set out to ruin his friendship with Leo?
“Hey.”
“Hey, what?” she said a touch defensively, pretty sure she had no call to be snippy.
“It’s a compliment that I’m holding fast to our deal. You’re a smart, savvy woman and if I didn’t respect the hell out of you, I’d have let you bow out long before now.”
“Bow out? You mean give up and quit? No way.”
When he grinned, she deflated a little. He’d phrased it like that on purpose to get her dander up and allow him to slide the nice stuff by her. How did he know how to handle her so well?
“That’s why I like you,” he said decisively. “We’re both fighters. Why else would I be here to put myself through your profile wringer? I can’t claim the matchmaking process is bogus unless I submit to it wholly. Then we both know the victor deserves to win.”
Now he’d dragged ethics into this mess. She shook her head in disbelief. Against all odds, she liked him too.
Somehow he’d stripped everything away and laid out some very profound truths. Of all the ways he could have convinced her he really liked her, how had he done it by not calling off their deal?
He respected her skills, respected her as a business woman, and she’d been on the defensive since moment one. It was okay to let her guard down. Dax had more than earned it.
“It’s hard for me to trust people,” she said slowly, watching him to see if he had a clue how difficult a confession this was. “That’s why I give you so much grief.”
He nodded once without taking his eyes off her. “I wasn’t confused. And for the record, same goes.”
He stretched his hand out in invitation and she didn’t hesitate to take it. Palm to palm, silent mutual agreement passed between them. Warmth filled her as the intensity of the moment unfolded into something that felt like kinship.
Neither of them trusted easily, but each of them had found a safe place here in this circle of two. At least for tonight.
* * *
Dax stopped paying the slightest bit of attention to the movie about fifteen minutes in. Watching Elise was much more fun.
She got into the movie the same way she did everything else—with passion. And it was beautiful. He particularly liked the part where she forgot they were holding hands.
There was nothing sexual about it. He didn’t use it as an excuse to slide a suggestive fingertip across her knuckle. He didn’t yank on her hand and let her spill into his lap, even though nothing short of amnesia was going to get that hot kiss out of his head.