“Stop,” Willow, the producer, said, her voice loud in the quiet of the room. It was funny because Gail had never been at work with Willow before, and the booming voice didn’t sound like her friend’s. “You are going to see each other for the first time in just a moment. I want you both to look at each other and not the cameras. Kat, move her into position.”
Kat directed Gail to a spot that was marked on the floor with tape. Gail stood so close to her match that she could smell the woodsy scent of his cologne. And she noticed his thick hair was a brown color with shots of golden-blond in it.
“We’re ready to shoot now. Please turn and face your match,” Willow said.
The man turned and Gail’s breath caught. Then her heart sank. It was billionaire New Zealand hotelier and nightclub owner Russell Holloway. She recognized him from his constant exposure on TV and in magazines. He couldn’t be her match. Surely this was a joke. He was a playboy with a reputation as a love-’em-and-leave-’em guy. Why would he go to a matchmaker?
Gail met the full force of Russell’s gray gaze. His eyes were bright and intense, staring down at her. He didn’t look as debauched as he should, she thought. He looked tanned, fit and healthy … too damned good for someone as bad as he was rumored to be.
“Gail Little,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Dumb. Was that really the only thing her mind could come up with?
Russell laughed as he took her hand and kissed it. “Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound promising. I know precious little about you, but I look forward to hearing your story from your own lips.”
She licked her lips and stared up at him. Her eyes tracked down his face to the sharp blade of his nose and then the full, sensual mouth underneath. Lips … the word echoed in her mind, and all she could do was stare at his. She gave herself a mental shake. She wasn’t going to be the latest to fall for this charming playboy. He was messing up her plans, and there was nothing fun about that.
Russell Holloway wasn’t sure what type of woman he’d expected to be matched with, but he knew he hadn’t anticipated Gail Little. She was beautiful, with her thick black hair brushing her shoulders and her big brown eyes that tempted him to get lost in them. Her figure was curvy and generous. If he were honest, she was exactly what he wanted physically. And she was classy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met a woman like her.
“I’m Russell Holloway,” he said, though he could tell she recognized him. She’d said that she’d heard of him.
“I know.” Then she shook her head. “Despite how it may seem, I’m usually a bit wittier.”
He chuckled. “First meetings can be a bit nerve-racking.”
“Yes, they can.”
She stared up at him and then flushed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then say nothing and let me enjoy the view. You’re a very beautiful woman.”
“I don’t know about that. Should we take our seats at the table?”
“Not just yet,” Russell said, linking her hand through his arm, leading her out of the ballroom and into the hallway.
He’d already arranged for the camera crew to follow them. Every detail had to go off smoothly. Russell had signed up with the matchmaking service to improve his reputation.
The Kiwi Klubs had had stagnate growth for the past two years. They had started as destination clubs similar to Club Med. Attached to each of the hotels was an exclusive A-lister nightclub where people went to see and be seen. Russell was making a profit but he wanted to try something new, and the real money in destination vacations was in families. He wanted to open a family-friendly resort, but with his reputation that was easier said than done. He had a chance to buy a well-known family vacation company but the owner was balking at selling to someone like Russell—not from a business standpoint but from a reputation-based one. So he’d decided to try to change his image.
He’d already arranged with Willow and Conner MacAfee, Matchmakers Inc.’s owner, to give Gail a preview of the Gustav Klimt exhibit that would be opening here in the Big Apple Kiwi Klub on Wednesday. As a personal friend of Russell’s, Conner had suggested participating in the show as a course of action to help Russell out.
“Where are we going?” she asked. “I think we are supposed to stay where we were.”
“Afraid to get in trouble?” he asked.
“No. I just like to follow the rules,” she said.
“I don’t.”
“Shocker,” she said.
He laughed. She gave the impression of being very sure of herself and confident. Those were traits that he’d been hoping for in his match. “Don’t fret, Gail, this side trip has been preapproved.”
“Good,” she said.
“Here we are,” he said, opening a door that led into the mezzanine atrium. The hotel area was very modern and had large expanses of open wall space with a glass dome inspired by Van Gogh’s Stormy Night. The floor was made of marble.
“This exhibit is opening on Wednesday, so we will be the first to experience it.”
When he’d approved the design, he’d specified that the atrium be used to display art. He had wanted to capture the feeling of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and replicate it here. If he was going to get families and couples into his hotels, then he needed to give them something special.
“I love Klimt’s work. I have a print of The Kiss hanging in my bedroom at home,” she said.
Russell thought it interesting that Gail had chosen that piece to hang in her bedroom. In it, the man was completely wrapped around the woman, holding her face in his hands as he kissed her neck. Klimt’s style was very sensual.
“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked.
She glanced up at him, a bit of shock in her eyes. “No. I don’t think so. But I’m sure you have.”
He arched one eyebrow at her. She didn’t seem to like him very much. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“But then, you never have been a gentleman,” she said almost sharply.
“That’s true,” he acknowledged. “I’m not exactly the kind of man who’s been circumspect in my relationships. But that’s why I’m here.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. I’m not on this show to play games with you, Gail. I’m looking for a match just like you are.” He knew if he was going to be successful in changing his reputation, it had to start with Gail. If he couldn’t convince her he wanted to change away from his bad boy image, the viewers at home wouldn’t buy it either.
“I’m sorry if I jumped to conclusions,” she said.
“You should be,” he said, flirting with her.
The PA motioned for them to move, and Russell put his hand at the small of Gail’s back and steered her toward another framed picture. It was a portrait of a high-society woman. They stood in front of it for a long time.
“She reminds me of you,” he said. It was a sensual portrait of a fully-dressed woman with an open bodice, just starting to reveal herself to the viewer.
“Did I mention that I don’t fall for practiced lines,” Gail said.
“What makes you think that was a line?” he asked. “She’s so sexy,” Gail said.
“You are too,” he said.
Gail