Melissa Mcclone - Dream Date with the Millionaire

“Just remember to eat,” Joelle said.

“The team—”

“I ordered enough food for everyone.”

Always thinking. Always one step ahead. Sometimes Bryce thought Joelle could read his mind. “Thanks.”

She opened the bag and pulled out a Styrofoam box and packets of Parmesan cheese and chili peppers. “Start with the salad, please.”

He grabbed a slice of sausage and mushroom pizza from the box and bit into it. “You’re sounding a lot like my mother.”

“You think?” Joelle’s mouth quirked. “Well, then, as soon as you fix this problem, why don’t you reward yourself by seeing if those matchmaking algorithms you developed can find you a few dates?”

An image of Sanfrandani with her red bandana around her head popped into his mind. Bryce nearly choked. He swallowed and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “You’ve been talking to my mother. Those words are straight out of her playbook.”

Joelle’s cheeks reddened. After six months of his mother’s lectures about his dating more, he’d finally told her no more. She’d stopped. Now he knew why. She was trying to have Joelle take up the cause.

“You have a profile set up,” Joelle said. “You should keep it public all the time, not just when you’re investigating clients or trying to flush out scammers.”

“I’ll tell you what I told my mother,” Bryce explained. “I spend all my time working on Blinddatebrides.com. It’s a win-win situation. Others find love. I make a whole bunch of money. I can’t handle a relationship of my own right now.”

He thought about his e-mail exchange with Sanfrandani. That was the closest he’d come to flirting in…weeks. Or was it months?

“Can’t or won’t?” Joelle challenged.

“You know I can fire you.”

She tilted her chin. “Yes, but you’d never be able to replace me.”

True. One of the most successful online dating Web sites was a one-man show, but Bryce needed help. Joelle handled everything from finances to human resources. She didn’t mind answering the phones, either. Her title of Business Manager was far too bland for all she did. Business Goddess would be a more apt description. He couldn’t run Blinddatebrides.com without her. He knew it, and so did she. “Are you this hard on Connor?”

“Harder,” she admitted. “But my husband knew what he was getting into when he married me. You, however, had no idea when you hired me.”

“No regrets.” Bryce winked. “At least none yet.”

She smiled. “You have to admit, it would be excellent PR if you married someone you met at your own site. Just look at the interest in your sister’s engagement.”

“Stop. Now.”

“Okay. I’ll stop. Only because I know you have more important things to do right now, but tomorrow—”

“Out.”

“I’m going.” With a grin, Joelle walked out of his office.

As Bryce waited to hear from one of the engineers, he ate dinner. He’d forgotten everything that didn’t involve the SQL injection, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about one thing. One person really. Sanfrandani. Had she replied yet? He hoped so.

Checking his in-box, Bryce found a message from her. The corners of his mouth curved. The thrill of the catch, he told himself, and opened the e-mail.

To: “Bigbrother”

From: “Sanfrandani”

Subject: RE: Colonel Brandon

Wrong on all counts except the uniform. Could go

either way there. The Colonel was always there for

Marianne. That’s what makes him a true hero.

But I won’t hold it against you if you meet me for

coffee tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock. Crossroads

on Delancey. My treat.

-sfd

So she was…assertive. Interesting. And she’d picked a great place to meet—a café that hired people who had hit rock bottom and were trying to turn their lives around. But he was wary.

Why would she make a date with him when she’d rejected everyone else?

It obviously wasn’t his knowledge of Austen. He looked again at the screen. Wrong on all counts .

So…was Sanfrandani a spy? A scammer? Worse?

He pulled up her profile on the Web site and ran a compatibility match with his questionnaire. The program deemed them highly compatible, possible soul mates. That surprised him.

He stared at her picture. The lighting was a little better than on the print version he had, but not by much.

Bryce didn’t like being caught off guard, but it had happened more than once today. Flushing out the scammers who probably used hacked computers to do their dirty work with the SQL injection was near impossible, but catching Sanfrandani might actually be…fun.

What did she want?

Only one way to find out.

Coffee tomorrow morning. My treat .

Bryce smiled. He was looking forward to it.

* * *

Remember, Dani. Proposals made after one cup of coffee are rare. Have fun!

Marissa’s instant message delivered while Dani had slept brought a needed smile to her face. She’d been a bundle of nerves ever since Bigbrother accepted her invitation to coffee.

Stop thinking about that. Him.

Don’t think of the meeting as a date. Consider

it market research.

Grace’s instant message echoed what James had said. Good advice Dani intended to follow. She wasn’t going to let Bigbrother’s profile picture or information blind her to her purpose. Okay, so she’d really liked what he’d written about the importance of family. But she knew from experience most guys would say anything to get what they wanted. Bigbrother was probably misrepresenting himself at least a little.

She winced. And she was misrepresenting herself a lot.

Face it, getting to know Bigbrother wasn’t possible under these circumstances. Thinking about him as anything other than market research would be a mistake. Downright wrong. He was not a potential date. He couldn’t be.

And neither could she be one for him.

Dani liked what she’d seen about Bigbrother. He looked like a nice guy, the type who might be a little shy and easily hurt.

She would not be responsible for leading him on.

Time to scare him off.

She walked into her closet.

Fortunately, most guys never looked past the surface. All she had to do was keep the packaging relatively unattractive and her breasts covered, and he’d lose interest.

Her hand wavered over the fitted jeans and sharp jackets hanging on the rod and settled instead on an ex-boyfriend’s pair of sweats and an oversized hoodie from her college days. She braided her blond hair into a single plait and tied a bandana around her head. She didn’t put on any makeup, but stuck on a pair of sunglasses.

She squinted at the results in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the closet door. Perfect.

Perfectly awful. She grimaced.

Dani took the bus to an area locally referred to as SoMa, south of Market, filled with loft warehouses, galleries and restaurants. As she walked toward South Beach and the café, a place known for giving second chances—something she desperately wanted herself—her breath hung on the air. Mornings in San Francisco were usually cold and foggy, no matter what the time of year.

As she stepped inside the café, warm air blasted her. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries filled the loftlike open space and made her mouth water. A good thing. She planned on spending every cent of James’s money this morning.

Hearing the din of the other customers, Dani glanced around. She’d stared at Bigbrother’s picture enough last night she should be able to recognize him, but none of the people sitting on the couches and chairs looked familiar. Maybe she’d beat him here. Or maybe her darkened sunglasses kept her from seeing clearly. She moved toward an empty table.