At least, she liked to think that was the reason she was keeping information from Candace, and not that she was desperate to see Matt again despite everything.
As far as her receptionist was concerned, she and Matt were still at the point where they had crossed the threshold of civilized behavior when they’d been tangled together on the reception desk.
She grew hot now recalling their passionate encounter then. She hadn’t felt panicked, probably because Candace’s unexpected return had prevented her from getting to that inevitable moment.
“You’re crazy,” Candace said, recalling her to the present.
As if she needed confirmation, Lauren thought gloomily.
Candace chewed and waved her fork. “I mean, Matt is gorgeous, wealthy and obviously a tiger in bed.” She made a growling sound. “Yours to tame, sweetie.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “What is this? A discussion of my personal life or a commercial for the circus?”
“Stay on topic.”
“I don’t want to tame anything.” Him. Especially, him. She wouldn’t even know how. But she’d never gone there with Candace, and she wouldn’t start now.
Candace shook her head. “And what do you do instead? You keep trying to hook the poor guy up with other women.”
“It’s what pays the rent.”
“Hon, you’ve been doing this matchmaking gig too long,” Candace said. “Love is an event of first come, first serve, and I’m here to tell you, serve yourself first, sweetie. Particularly when the guy’s a yummy dish like Matt Whittaker.”
“Too spicy for my taste.”
Candace, in the process of lifting the fork to her mouth, stopped in midmotion, the look of surprise on her face quickly replaced by one that was wicked. “Well.”
Lauren knew she’d skirted the line of revealing too much, but not in the way Candace plainly thought.
“I thought the problem was he was too bland,” Candace said.
“I think what I said was, too starchy in the collar.”
Candace grinned. “It’s always the buttoned-down silent types…”
She wondered what Candace would say if she shared details of Sunday night—Matt’s accusations, the upsetting things he’d said, and yet the brooding look on his face when her car had pulled away.
She hadn’t been able to put the last out of her mind.
She now had a failed seduction as well as a failed wedding under her belt. Terrible for anyone, but more than depressing for a professional matchmaker.
She ought to stamp her letterhead with the word phony and be done with it, she thought gloomily.
She ordinarily didn’t meet clients at her apartment. She liked to keep her work separate from her personal space, as much as possible, but it wasn’t as if Matt was just a client.
She’d never almost had sex with a client before, Lauren thought. She’d never even come close because she’d never had a romantic relationship with one. She’d never had more than dinner to hone a client’s social skills.
But Matt had insisted he needed to talk to her, and she hadn’t felt like waiting around her office until eight, or whenever his business dinner ended.
He’d suggested his schedule was otherwise full this week, and anyway, she figured she should just get this meeting over with.
She expected he was coming to tell her his days as a client of Ideal Match were over. This was the last time she’d have to fit in an appointment to meet him.
She was dressed in jeans and a beige microchenille cardigan paired with stack-heeled mules. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she’d removed her makeup when she’d gotten home from work and eaten dinner. She refused to let herself primp for Matt’s arrival.
In the days since she and Matt had almost made love at his apartment, her anger had ebbed, replaced by resignation and defeat. But it was hard to characterize the other emotions churning within her.
And then he was there, ringing her buzzer—no fancy doorman for her—and she was opening her door to a Matt who still had snowflakes clinging to the shoulders of his overcoat and who looked steely yet gorgeous.
“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice—”
“Let me take your coat,” she said on the tail end of his words.
She wouldn’t let him slip under her armor again. She wouldn’t let him suspect how the tears had seeped from under her eyelids as she lay in bed at night.
After he’d discarded his coat and she’d hung it up in the hall closet, he held out a brown paper bag.
“This is for you,” he said. “A peace offering.”
“Thank you.”
She was stumped as to what he could have brought, but she took the bag from him anyway and peeked inside.
“Healthy gourmet cat food,” he said. “Candace mentioned at one point that you have a cat.”
Lauren wondered what else Candace had been telling Matt. “Thank you. Felix will be appreciative.”
As a goodwill gesture, it wasn’t bad. Perhaps he had learned something from her coaching.
Aloud, she said approvingly, “Cat food is an imaginative gift to give a woman.”
Then belatedly realizing the multiple ways he could interpret her comment, she could have bitten off her tongue.
But he appeared not to notice.
“I’ve learned a number of things,” he said.
She went motionless, and he stood there, handsome in a charcoal suit, his expression heavy.
“I said some things to you I didn’t mean,” he said flatly.
She fought an involuntary smile. In typical guy fashion, he was coming as close as possible to an apology without actually saying the word sorry. Maybe he hadn’t changed so much after all.
He looked around. “Where’s Felix? It occurred to me on the way over that this is the first time I’ve been here. You came down to the car when I picked you up for Veronica and Albert’s wedding.”
“That’s right.” She looked around. “Felix often hides out in my bedroom.”
“Lucky cat.”
She got goose bumps. She couldn’t help herself. He said it so matter-of-factly but with such certainty.
“I’m taking heart in the fact there’s still one male you like,” he joked.
“Felix has been neutered,” she said in a deadpan voice.
His lips twitched. “Ouch.”
She turned toward her bedroom. “You might as well get the grand tour, though there’s not much to see. It’s a typical one-bedroom apartment.”