Matched to Her Rival. Kat Cantrell

him happy. This woman he’d been matched with might even be a plant. Some actress Elise had paid to get him to fall in love with her.

      That...schemer.

      Thank God he never had to see Elise again. A paralegal sounded like a blessed reprieve from razor-sharp matchmakers with great legs.

      “I’ll call her. Then I expect you’ll want a full report afterward, right?”

      The line went dead silent.

      “Still there, Elise?”

      “Not a full report.”

      “About whether she’s my soul mate. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

      For some reason, that made Elise laugh and muscles he hadn’t realized were tense relaxed.

      “Yeah, I do want that report. I guess we never really laid down the ground rules of how this deal was going to go. Do we need an unbiased third party to verify the results?”

      A judge? Suddenly, he felt like a bug pinned to cork. “The fewer people involved in this, the better. I’ll call you afterward and we’ll go from there. How’s that?”

      “Uncomplicated. I can get on board with that. Have a good time with Candy. Talk to you later.”

      The line went dead for the second time and Dax immediately saved Elise’s number to his contacts. It gave him a dark little kick to have the matchmaker’s phone number when she’d been so adamantly against giving it to him.

      Then he dialed Candy’s number, which Elise had included with the picture. His perverse gene wanted to find out if Candy was on the up-and-up. If Elise had hired someone to date him, he’d cry foul so fast it would make her head spin. And he’d never admit it was exactly what he’d have done.

      * * *

      Dax handed the valet his Audi’s key fob and strolled into the wine bar Candy had selected for their first meet. She wasn’t difficult to find—every eye in the room was on the sultry blonde perched on a bar stool.

      Then every eye in the room turned to fixate on him as he moved forward to buss Candy on the cheek. “Hi. Nice place.”

      They’d conversed on the phone a couple of times. She had a pleasant voice and seemed sane, so here they were.

      She peered up at him out of china doll–blue eyes that were a little less electric in person than they’d been on his laptop screen. No big deal. Her sensual vibe definitely worked for his Pleasure Principle—she’d feel good, all right, and better the second time.

      “You look exactly like your picture,” she said, her voice a touch breathier than it had been on the phone. “I thought you’d swiped it from a magazine and you’d turn out to be average-looking. I’m glad I was wrong.”

      Dax knew what reflected back at him in the mirror; he wasn’t blind, and time had been kind to his features. It was stupid to be disappointed that she’d commented on his looks first. But why did his cheekbones have to be the first thing women noticed about him?

      Most women. He could have been wearing a paper bag over his head for all the notice Elise had taken of his outward appearance. One of the first things she’d said to him was that he was lonely.

      And as Candy blinked at him with a hint of coquettishness, he experienced an odd sense of what Elise meant. Until a woman ripped that curtain back and saw the man underneath the skin, it was all just going through the motions. And Dax dated women incapable of penetrating his cynical hide.

      How had he just realized that?

      And how dare Elise make him question his dating philosophy? If she was so smart, why hadn’t she figured out he was dating the wrong women?