Two weeks before the ceremony he’d called and told her he’d found someone else. The woman had turned out to be thin and pretty.
Whitney had been devastated. Again that inferiority she’d felt in high school and college had come flooding back. To fight the pain, she’d done whatever she could to keep busy. She’d spent her time walking whenever she’d been alone to prevent dwelling on her broken heart. After a while she’d become interested in wellness nutrition and had adopted a healthy lifestyle. Soon she’d joined an overeating support group and continued to slim down. Men had started paying attention to her but she’d not yet found one that she trusted to stick with her. She wanted a man who cared about her and not just her looks. Those faded.
In college she’d introduced a number of friends to other classmates. The majority of those relationships had become long-term ones and many of the couples had gone on to marry. Whitney had gained the reputation of being a matchmaker. When her boss had confided in her that she was having trouble dating, Whitney had introduced her to a friend of her family. They too had married. A few years later, when the company she’d worked for had downsized and Whitney had been let go, she’d decided that if she couldn’t find someone for herself she could at least help others find the right person. Opening Professional Matchmaking had been her answer.
Despite her own disappointments, she still believed that there was a soul mate for everyone. So what had happened in Tanner’s life to make him not believe in love? Could she convince him it was necessary for him too? But that wasn’t what he was paying her to do. He wanted the best mate possible and it was her job to see that she found that person, not change his requirements.
Whitney punched in Tanner’s number from the card. Now it was time to help him do just that.
On the second ring he answered. “Locke.”
“This is Whitney Thomason.”
“Who?” His voice became muffled, as if he was speaking to someone else.
“Whitney Thomason of Professional Matchmaking.”
“Uh, yeah. Just a minute.”
She waited while he spoke to the other person, giving orders about what should be done for a patient.
Even with his abrupt speech he had a nice voice. Sort of warm and creamy. The kind a woman liked to hear in her ear when a man rolled toward her in the middle of the night. Heavens, that wasn’t a thought she should be having about her newest client.
Seconds later the background noise quieted.
“I only have a few seconds. What can I do for you?”
She understood about being busy but he was the one requesting her help. “I have compiled a list of possible matches for you. I’d like to get together and discuss them. Start setting up some socials.”
“Socials? I’m not interested in, neither do I have time for, tea parties.”
That’s why he didn’t have anyone. He wouldn’t put in the effort it took to develop a relationship. “Socials are when you have your first meeting with a potential mate. Before I can set those up we need to talk and sort out who you’d like to consider first.”
“Can’t you just take care of that?” He already sounded distracted. Maybe he was the same self-centered guy she’d known in college.
“Tanner, are you sure you want to do this?” Her voice took on a hard note. “You have to put some time and effort into finding the right person. Maybe you aren’t ready yet.”
There was a pause then a sigh of resignation. “What do you want me to do?”
“Can you meet me at Café Lombard at six this evening?”
“I’ll be there.” There was a click on the line as he ended the call.
Had she made him mad? Her time was valuable too. Tanner had come to her for help. He was going to have to meet her halfway, do his part to help find the perfect match for him. That required energy. If their conversation at the café didn’t go well, she’d just tell him that he needed to go elsewhere for assistance.
* * *
Café Lombard was a small establishment at the bottom of Lombard Street, which was famous for being the curviest street in the world. Flowers bloomed between each of the curves, making it a fun street to look at but not to drive along. Tanner wasn’t a fan of quaintness and this was one of the most picturesque places in San Francisco. When he arrived right at six, he spotted Whitney sitting at a table for two in the patio area.
Again her shoulder-length hair was primly pulled back into a controlled mass at the nape of her neck. She wore a simple blouse that gave little hint of her body shape and with that were a pair of black pants and flat shoes. There was nothing flamboyant about her. She looked as if she wanted to blend in, go unnoticed.
He started across the street toward her. She glanced up. A smile came to her lips as she waved at him. Now that expression stood out. It encouraged him to return it and he did.
Tanner joined her at the table.
“You’re not going to grab me, are you?” She put a chair between them.
“Not unless you want me to. Look, I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want my colleagues asking a lot of questions. It was easier to pretend you were my girlfriend.”
“I guess I can understand that.”
He dropped into the chair across from her.
“Would you like something to drink or eat? It’s on me, of course,” Whitney offered.
She seemed to have already forgotten his invasion of her personal space. She was a good sport. “Thank you. I’m starved. But I can get my own.”
The waiter came to their table.
“I’ll have a cob salad and a water,” Whitney said.
“And I’ll have a steak sandwich with fries with a large lemonade.”
The waiter left. Whitney quirked a corner of her mouth up as if perplexed by something.
“What?” Tanner asked.
“Lemonade? You seem more like a beer guy.”
“I am, but I’m on call.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” She appeared to approve.
He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt with you on the phone. I’ve just been super busy this month. Under a lot of pressure.”
She smiled. “I understand. I’ll try to keep this short and sweet.”
“So what did you need to see me about?”
“I’ve found some potential dates I think you might be interested in. I’d like you to review their files and see what you think. Then I’ll set up a social with the one you like best.” Whitney pushed a pink folder toward him.
Pink seemed an appropriate color for a matchmaker. At least her office supplies had some flair. Tanner opened the folder to find a printed page with the name of a woman at the top and information about her. He looked at Whitney. “No picture? I don’t get to see what they look like?”
“Not until you meet them. I think a lasting relationship should be based on something more than looks. I want my clients to see beyond the surface.”
“Interesting.” Was there something peculiar about that belief? She no doubt believed in true love and happily-ever-after. He’d learned long ago not to believe in fairy tales. He flipped through the other pages. The women seemed interesting but a couple of them owned their own businesses. He picked up their