The Billionaire and the Matchmaker

“What are you doing here?” she asked, desperate for a change in topic. “Checking out some new tech to invest in?”

“Actually, I was one of the speakers today,” he said, closing his suit jacket and buttoning it. “I just finished up and was getting ready to head out.”

Emily’s eyes widened in surprise. Although he asked plenty of questions about her business, they’d never gotten far into the finer aspects of his job. He had to be someone important to be a speaker at the San Jose Tech Convention. Only a few years ago, Steve Jobs and Bill Gates had been some of the headliners. She made a mental note to ask him more about what he did the next time they got a chance to chat.

“There she is.”

A familiar voice sounded behind her and made her whole body cringe. She turned to see the jerk approaching her, flanked by two burly men in tight black t-shirts and dress pants. Her heart dropped into her stomach and she took an involuntary step back, bumping into Michael’s chest.

Of course, this would happen now. She was about to be led away in handcuffs in front of the man she actually liked. Fate had vicious timing.

“This is the woman,” the jerk said, his lips twisting into a victorious smile. “Please escort her off the premises.”

“What seems to be the problem here?” Michael draped a protective arm across her back and stepped forward.

“This woman attacked me,” the man said forcefully, hatred shining in his eyes. “All I did was ask her to join me for dinner and she poured water on my head. I should have her arrested for assault.”

“Maybe she had a good reason for it,” Michael replied just as forcefully. Emily looked up to see him staring the man down, his whole body tense like a lion defending its territory. “Maybe you needed a little cooling off.”

The man grunted, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The two guards shuffled next to him, glancing at each other with uncertainty.

“Gentlemen, this woman is with me,” Michael said, turning to the guards. “She will not be going anywhere she doesn’t choose. Please escort this man to his next workshop and remind him that we don’t tolerate harassment at this convention. If I hear so much as a whisper of him behaving in such a manner again, I will personally throw him out on the pavement.”

Emily watched in awe as the man’s face turned bright purple. The guards nodded in confirmation and each placed a hand on his shoulder. With a last, scornful glance in her direction, he shrugged them off and turned to march down the hallway. The guards followed close behind.

“That was brilliant,” she said, turning to Michael. “How did you do that?”

“I guess I have a little bit of clout around here. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He looked down at her with such softness in his eyes that she thought she was going to melt into the floor right there.

“Yeah,” she replied breathlessly. “But I’m ready to get out of here.”

“Me, too.” He reached for her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers. Her skin burned from his tender touch. “Feel like getting a cup of coffee?”

“Absolutely. Lead the way.”

She thrilled at her good luck. Michael was such the opposite of everything she was used to in the men she dated. Maybe Lydia had been right.

There were a few good ones left out there.

Chapter Nine

Michael had just given himself a rare moment to sip his coffee and stare out the window of his corner office when the door burst open. He closed his eyes, knowing that there was only one person who showed up unannounced like that. Henry Knight was back in town, two weeks early. So much for the European vacation Michael’s mother had painstakingly scheduled for their thirty-fifth anniversary.

“Hi dad,” he said, turning in his chair to observe his father claim the high-backed leather seat across from his desk. “How was vacation?”

“Tedious,” Henry replied with a frown.

He had a slight tan, but other than that, there was no sign that he’d been away from the office for more than a few hours. Michael had inherited much of his looks from his father. They shared the same tall, athletic figure, dark brown eyes, and strong jawline. But Henry had the tough, weathered look that came with years of experience. His broad shoulders filled out his gray Giorgio Armani suit nicely and there was always a disapproving frown on his face.

“How’s Mom?” Michael asked.

“Still vacationing in the French Riviera,” Henry said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I needed to get back to the office, so she elected to stay behind.”

Michael nodded. It was a wonder his mother put up with his father for that long, but she always claimed that things could be worse. At least his father was a steady, loyal, providing man. In her mind, it was all she could ask for.

“I’ve come to speak about Kevin Smith’s project,” Henry said, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. A stern expression settled on his face. “I see no progress in the latest reports. It’s time to pull the plug.”