"Just promise that you won't give Zara any alcohol!" Ebony said, as Bailey walked from her office the next morning.

"But I can have a wine or a beer, right?" Bailey asked, hanging onto the door frame.

She sighed. "If you must."

He saluted her. "Then I'll see you Sunday night."

Ebony had a bad feeling about this. Bailey and Zara had scored nineteen percent compatibility on the Kismet database. But Mrs Harrostone had said to abandon the computer scores and go with intuition—or something like that. Now that Ebony had gone with her gut-instinct, she was scared. Even more scared when Bailey turned to Jake in the waiting room, and said, "It's your turn, man. Ebony does not mess around with the questions. Be warned."

Great. Now I sound like a tyrant. This is going to be awkward.

"Consider me warned." Jake smiled as he entered the office.

Ebony closed the glass door, careful not to repeat the previous night's mistake of getting too close. Jake was already lounging in the chair as she rounded her desk and sat down. She stared at her computer and squinted at the blurry fonts. Not ready to look at Jake, she patted the desk and found her glasses the next second, putting them on. She spun her chair towards the man lounging in his seat. He was watching her as if she was an abstract painting he couldn't decipher but found enjoyable, nevertheless. It did not put her at ease. Nor did the fact that he had a face she could stare at for hours. She hated to admire the superficial things, but it was hard not to, especially when she knew there was so much more to Jake. Like fixing bracelets for strangers. Tracking her down because he'd been unable to call. Leading her to Bailey.

"Morning, Jake," she said.

"Ebony."

"Shall we get started with the questionnaire?" she asked, skipping the normal preamble about Kismet. 

He nodded for her to proceed.

She read automatically from the screen. "Question one: Why did you decide to come to Kismet Matchmaking Agency?"

His gaze cooled. "I think you know the answer to that one."

"Ah, yep. Let's skip that one—and number two. Okay, question three: Are you looking for a relationship that is short-term or long-term?"

"That depends."

"On what?" 

He smiled cryptically. "On the girl."

"Oh." She needed to find him a horrible girl! One with the lowest compatibility match. No! What was she saying? That would be unethical. She was a terrible matchmaker. Terrible! "I'll put a yes, as we only accept clients who are interested in long-term."

He nodded, shifting restlessly.

"Question four:" Ebony winced at the computer screen, ready to click past it.

"Question four?" he asked, smiling.

"Have you had any previous serious relationships, engagements, or marriages?"

Jake looked ready to leave. "All of the above."

Jake has been married and divorced!

Images of him down on one knee, slipping a ring onto a girl's finger spun through Ebony's mind. He had already met a girl special enough to marry. What if no other woman could match his previous love? All women probably paled in comparison. Not that Ebony should care—she had a 'no man' vow after all. But still she wondered...

"All three, huh?" she said, voice hitching.

"Yes."

Seeing his jaw tense, she decided it was a good time to tick all three boxes on her screen. An empty box blinked back at her, waiting for her to input the details of his love life. Could she ask? She skipped ahead. "Um...Question five: How long has it been since your last serious relationship, engagement, or marriage?"

"Two. Years."

Okay, Jake was not giving much. And he was snappy. Bailey was to blame for all of it! Biting her bottom lip, Ebony stared at the next question. It was so personal. But she was curious to its answer. She looked across at Jake and said quickly, "Question six: Do you have any children?"

His eyes widened. "No."

Hurriedly, Ebony clicked 'No'. When she saw the next question she peered around the computer. She could barely get the words out, "What are your thoughts on starting a family in the future?"

Jake's mouth twitched with a smile. "Do you need some water?"

"No. Why?" she asked, pressing a hand to her cheek. Hot. No, more like burning.

"Are you sure?"

"Maybe some water would be good." It might calm the flush that had taken hold. It also gave her a moment to fan herself as Jake made his way to the coffee table where a carafe of water and several glasses awaited.

Somehow, Jake even made the task of pouring water look stylish. And the way he fitted that suit and tie made the heat in her cheeks turn to blazing.

As he set down the carafe, his gaze wandered over the floral sofa and the side wall that had two tiers of white bookshelves. Jake had taken an interest in the very thing that Ebony avoided in the room. The shelves were almost shameful, filled with meaningless trinkets—a heart-shaped box, a vase with roses, and a cupid with a bow and arrow. The only thing worth looking at was the photo of her aunts, cousins, and Ebony at the opening of The Peach Tree five years ago—although, Ebony had been tempted to cut her Aunt Rose out of the picture on many an occasion. The other offices at Kismet had photo frames brimming from the bookshelves, every photo a blissfully happy couple who had been matched by one of her aunts or cousins. Fortunately, Jake had never seen those other offices.

He turned back to Ebony, his gaze locking on hers. Her first thought was to glance down at her desk, but her eyes refused to obey. He was walking towards her—not to his chair, but hers. This had never happened before. Male clients did not approach her chair!

As he leaned down, Ebony stilled, catching the scent of his crisp aftershave. She could have inhaled that scent all day. And why was he leaning closer? 

She dared a glance upwards, only to find Jake shaking his head. The glass made a thud on her desk as he placed it down. "Your water, Madam."

She cleared her throat. "Thank you."

Jake gave a polite nod. "You're welcome." He returned to his club chair seconds later, his expression flat, as if he'd never left his seat or flirted his smile around her office.

"Now, where were we?" She tried desperately to find her place on the computer screen.

"You asked if I wanted children," he said.

"Oh." Ebony picked up her glass and finished the water in four gulps.

Jake raised a brow.

"Do you?" she whispered.

"I did. Once upon a time."

"But not now?"

Jake shrugged. "I'm undecided."

Ebony found herself staring at the thin line his mouth had taken. She clicked the 'maybe' box on the screen.

"Do you?"

Ebony's finger paused on the mouse button. "Do I what?"

"Want children?"

Peering around the computer had been a bad idea. Jake was most certainly awaiting an answer. Ebony suddenly felt her control over this interview slipping away. Matchmakers never gave away private details. It was classified as flirting with the clients, and a big no-no in Aunt Rose's book. The perfect reason for dismissal. "This isn't my questionnaire. I'm not allowed to answer."

Jake did not look happy about this fact. His fingers drummed his knee and his gaze stared darkly out the window behind her. "Continue."

Nerves shot through Ebony. "Question eight: If you were to describe your perfect match, what would she be like?"

Jake stared at her. "Invent something."

"I can't do that!"

"It doesn't matter who you match me with."

"You're not making this easy for me, Jake."

"Fine. My perfect match?"

She leaned forward. "Yes?"

Jake shook his head and laughed at his private joke. "Just book me a date for Sunday night. At least I can go with Bailey. You have my likes and hobbies from the survey in the waiting room. I'd say you have all you need."

As he stood from the chair and crossed the room, Ebony met him at the door. He gripped the handle, but she held it closed. "Forget the deal."

Jake raised a brow. "I thought you needed Bailey?"

"Not this much. If it comes to clause one, I don't think I could go on dates with somebody like you."

"Like me?"

"You have been rude from the time you walked in here. The aloof answers. The notion that I would invent your perfect woman because you were too lazy or patronizing of my profession to do it yourself!"

"Ebony," he said, taking her hand. "I never meant to be rude. I just hated the questions—"

She pulled her hand from his. "The questions are necessary for a good match."

"I just hated hearing the questions...from you."

"Oh." Ebony tucked her hair behind her ear and saw that her hand was resting on his tie. It was blue silk, soft, the chest beneath it hard. She removed her hand slowly, as if he might not notice.

He glanced up from her wayward hand, smiling a fraction. "We could keep the deal?"

She sighed. "Let's keep the deal, then. I'll meet you at The Peach Tree on Sunday night. Six pm sharp."

Jake stepped back and opened the door. "Don't tell me that you're going to be my chaperone?"

Ebony gulped. "Yes. And your date's, too."

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