A Match Made on Madison (The Matchmaker Chronicles) (25 page)

Now, I suppose if I were a better person, I’d have been satisfied with that. But I still wanted to win the bet. And more important, I wanted to prove to Mark that I wasn’t all empty talk, that I really could produce exactly what he needed in a wife—Cybil.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, interpreting my silence as fear. “Just act as if you’re having the time of your life. We’ll make the circuit, talk to a few key people, and then I’ll take you somewhere quiet for dinner.”

“Couldn’t we just skip to the last bit? I seem to be making a habit of public appearances to fend off innuendo.”

“The cancer benefit?” he asked, laughter coloring his voice. “I thought you were there to support your mother.”

“I was. Truly. But my mother was the first to point out that it would do me good to let people see that your rather public debasing at Bungalow 8 didn’t have me down for the count.”

“Hey, I was the one that was cornered.”

“I know. And I also know that I should have approached you in a more private setting. And I’ve said I’m sorry. So hopefully that much at least is water under the bridge?”

“It is.” He nodded. “You ready?”

I eyed the glittering crowd, my stomach still churning. “What if they think I’m romancing you and Douglas?”

“They won’t.” This time he didn’t try to hide his laughter. “And if they do, then they’re too foolish to bother with anyway. Come on.”

We stepped into the room and were immediately surrounded with people we both knew. There were polite questions, of course, and the occasional flicker of something in somebody’s eyes, but overall everyone was amazingly restrained. Maybe I’d overestimated the impact of the photograph. Or maybe I’d underestimated the power of being associated with Mark Grayson. Either way, it appeared that, for the moment at least, I’d managed to dodge the bullet.

Due in no small part to the man standing beside me. The only thing I still didn’t understand was why exactly he was helping me. I mean, it didn’t make any sense at all. He didn’t strike me as the altruistic type. Noble, maybe. But only for the right cause.

And believe me when I tell you that while I’m the first to stand up for myself, I don’t think a woman hounding a man to sign on for a spouse hunt constitutes a call to nobility. I suppose one could make an argument for the common bond of being stalked by the paparazzi, but when you consider the fact that the commonality is almost entirely my fault, it dies a quick death.

In short, he shouldn’t be doing any of this. But I’ve never been one to slap away good intentions for lack of explanation. I mean, frankly, I needed all the help I could get. And the truth was that when Mark Grayson spoke, people listened. So if he thought swinging from the chandelier would help, I was ready, willing, and able.

Actually, a trapeze act would probably be less stressful.

“Vanessa, will you be all right if I excuse myself for a minute?” The question cut through my tumbling thoughts, and I resisted the urge to shake my head.

“I’ll be fine,” I lied.

“I just need to tell Bill something.” He nodded toward an older man holding court in the corner. I’d known Bill Benson most of my life. A top financier in the city, he and my father went way back.

“No problem,” I said, with what I hoped was a careless smile, “I’ll just go and get a drink.”

“Great,” he said, already leaving. “I’ll meet you at the bar.”

Left on my own, my falsely buoyed courage sagged. I was tempted to pull out my cell phone, but considering I knew pretty much everyone in the room, it really wouldn’t have helped all that much. The best thing was to keep moving, and so squaring my shoulders, I pushed through the crowd at the bar and ordered a cabernet.

Then, glass in hand, I took a slow sip and reminded myself that I wasn’t some social wannabe. I didn’t need to lean on anyone. I had been born into this life, which meant that I knew how to manipulate the game. I could stand on my own two feet, thank you very much.

“Vanessa,” someone called.

I turned around, my neck prickling. I knew that voice. Althea.

She emerged from the throng of people, her expression just this side of gloating. My heart fluttered into my throat, and I looked around desperately for moral support. So much for standing on my own.

“I thought it was you.” We exchanged air kisses and a sort of limp noodle hug. “You look great.” She sounded surprised. Which shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. I glanced over to the corner, where Mark was still deep in conversation, waving his hands to punctuate something he was saying. No reinforcements from that corner. I was on my own.

“Thanks. I’m trying. But this hasn’t been the best of days.”

“I know,” she nodded earnestly. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Well, I’m fine,” I said with more bravado than I’d thought possible. Nothing like a rival to bring on survival mode. “Cybil said you called.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I figured you’d be overwhelmed.” Buried somewhere in those comforting words was a dig. I was certain of it. Now don’t get me wrong, Althea is a lovely person, but she’s also tough as nails, and predatory when it comes to her business. So her sudden concern about my wellbeing was just a tad suspect.

“I was, a little. I mean, you know as well as I do that the papers can be brutal. But I’m better now.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. And attending a party is the perfect way to elevate one’s mood. I haven’t seen Douglas and Maris, though, have you?”

Okay, this one wasn’t even couched in pretty words. “They’re probably at home, engaged in a little makeup sex. Douglas has been forgiven.”

“For kissing you?”

I’d walked right into that one. “No. For breaking it off. That’s why I was with him yesterday. Maris wanted me to talk to him. To try to figure out what was going on. Seems he’d gotten cold feet. And I helped him realize what he really wanted.”

“Maris.”

“Exactly. So despite all the scuttle, everything is back on track.”

“Well, I’m happy for them,” she said, and to give her credit, she really meant it. “But what about you? What are you going to do?”

“About what?” I admit the question was a stalling technique. She was talking about my now tarnished reputation. In the course of two short days, I’d been publicly chastised by Mark Grayson and caught in a lip-lock with Douglas Larson.

“The buzz. I haven’t heard all that much, but it’s got to be considerable. No?” She asked, her expression almost patronizing.

“It’s about what I expected.”

“Well, you’ve got to do something to redeem yourself. As much as I hate to say it, what happens to you happens to me. Albeit without the dire consequences.”

And there we had it. The cause for her concern. She was worried about how my antics would affect her business. On a professional level I can’t say that I blamed her, but on a personal one it stung. A lot.

“I’m not that worried.” Okay, I was lying again, but you try being in my place and admitting your fears to your rival. “You know how it goes. Today’s gossip will be forgotten tomorrow in the wake of whatever hits the papers next.”

“I suppose that’s true, at least in part,” she said. “But what about the people who are looking for a matchmaker? Surely you don’t think they’ll forget?”

I sighed, forcing a smile. “I can’t control what they think, Althea. I can only answer to myself. And at the end of the day, although I wish I’d had the foresight to see it coming, Douglas was just saying thank you. A bit overexuberantly, I’ll grant you. But if his fiancée doesn’t have a problem with it, then I don’t see how anyone else can.”

“Bravo,” she said, nodded her head in agreement. “I just hope you’re not underestimating the power of the press.” Again with the passive-aggressive digs. But Althea was just being Althea, and I couldn’t fault her for that.

“I’ll just have to take it as it comes. My clients seem to be okay with it. They all seem to be staying put.” They were, actually. Which in and of itself was a small miracle. But then I’d never had much faith in human nature.

“Well, that’s certainly a vote of confidence.” She reached over to pat my arm. “But I’m just not as sure that new clients, especially the cream of the crop, will be as easy to persuade.”

I sighed and fought to keep my voice light. “If you’re talking about the bet, then I’m afraid—”

“She’s trying to be polite, Althea.” Mark appeared suddenly at my elbow, his face a charming mask. “But what she’s not telling you is that after much consideration, I’ve decided to sign on and let her work her magic.”

“
You’re
Vanessa’s client?” Althea asked.

If I could have caught my breath, I probably would have enjoyed the moment more. But if Althea was surprised, I was flabbergasted. I knew I’d captured his interest, but I had no idea he’d decided to come on board.

Emotions rioted inside me. Some of them identifiable, others not. But relief and excitement seemed to be the front-runners. And so when I smiled up at him, the gesture was genuine. “I wasn’t certain you wanted to share the news.”

“Why not?” he asked, his gaze still locked on Althea. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve got in mind for me. After all, you do seem to have an in with some of the most beautiful women in Manhattan.”

“It’s about more than beauty, Mr. Grayson,” Althea said, her sharp eyes studying him. If she was looking for a sign of weakness, she was in for a big disappointment. Mark Grayson was one tough customer. In fact, if I hadn’t already had someone in mind for him,
I’d
probably have panicked.

As it was, I still felt a little sick to my stomach, but I knew I would rise to the occasion. Or rather, Cybil would. All I had to do was finalize the details.

“I’m well aware of the fact, Ms. Sevalas,” Mark responded. “What I should have said is that Vanessa has access to some of the most interesting and well-connected women in the city.”

“The single ones, anyway,” I chirped, sounding like a Barbie doll on amphetamines. There was something decidedly uncomfortable about the way Mark was looking at Althea. “And Althea knows just as many as I do. Really.”

“So what? Now you’re trying to tell me to go with the competition?” There was a teasing note in his voice, and an implied intimacy that I wasn’t sure what to do with. Most likely part of his effort to put me at ease and one-up Althea. I wasn’t sure why he was going to such lengths to protect me, but I damn sure wasn’t going to argue about it.

“Absolutely not.” I smiled up at him. “I was just pointing out that Althea is very good at what she does.”

“Yes, but not as good as you are.” This time his voice carried, and I realized that the people around us were listening. “And now, Althea, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got a dinner reservation.” He didn’t wait for her to answer, just put his hand in the small of my back and propelled me forward.

“Lots of details to work out,” I called behind me, suppressing a laugh at Althea’s open-mouthed astonishment.

“That was rather heavy-handed of you,” I said as soon as we wore alone in the elevator.

“Do you want me to take it back?” he said, lifting an eyebrow.

“No. Of course not. I’m delighted that you’ve decided to let me find you a match. But I thought maybe you were just saying it, you know, to defend me in front of Althea.” I can’t explain it exactly, but the idea appealed to me somehow. My latent fairytale princess syndrome rearing its ugly head.

“Let me assure you that I never do anything I don’t want to do.” It wasn’t a diss or anything, but it had the same effect, the Cinderella in me sinking mercifully back into my deeply buried subconscious.

“Well, whatever the reason, you really helped me in there. And not just with Althea. You were right, facing it head-on was really great. Especially with you by my side.” It came out sounding really sappy, and I looked down at my shoes feeling particularly stupid. “Okay, that didn’t come out right. I just meant that—”

“I’m glad I could help,” he said, his formality making me feel even more awkward. Fortunately the doors opened to an older couple clearly staying at the hotel. Both were dressed in that understated way that screamed money. Everyone exchanged polite nods and then we all rode down in silence.

The doors slid open to the lobby and I stepped out with a strange sense of relief. “Are we still going to have dinner?” I asked, trying to find center. There was something about the man that threw me off-kilter. Or maybe it was just his unexpected kindness.

“Yes. Unless you’d prefer to go home. I know it was hard for you up there.”

“No, I’d like to go. I mean, it should only get easier from here.” Famous last words. “Right?”

Before he could answer, my cell phone chimed at me from the confines of my evening bag. “Do you mind? I really should get it.”

He nodded and discreetly moved a few paces away. Whatever else he was, Mark was a class act.

“Hello?”

“Vanessa.” It was Lindy Adams. “Thank God. I was afraid you’d be out.”

“Well, actually, I am,” I said, realizing as the words came out that Lindy sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

“Oh, I—”

“Lindy, it’s all right. I’m never too busy to talk to you. Is this about Devon?”

“Sort of. But it’s not what you think. I’m afraid we’re in a little bit of trouble.” She was rushing now, as if she was trying to get the words out before someone cut her off.

“Are you okay?” My tone must have alerted Mark, because he moved back within listening range, his expression full of concern.

“Yes, I’m fine—physically. But we’re . . . well, we’re in a bit of a jam. I didn’t know who to call and they only let you dial once.”

“Lindy, where are you?” I asked, alarm bells resounding in my head.

“I’m—” I heard a whispered male voice in the background, and then the static of the phone being transferred.

“Vanessa, it’s Devon. I’m afraid we’ve been arrested.”

“What?”

“It’s hard to explain on the phone, but suffice it to say that Lindy was following your suggestion.”

“What?” Apparently I had use of only one word.

“Vanessa, we’re counting on you. We need someone to bail us out.”

My head was spinning as I tried to make sense of what he was telling me. “You need bail money?”