Captivated by the Tycoon (The Whittakers #4)(8)
Author: Anna DePalo

He gave a brief nod. “I’m the numbers guy.”

“But never boring,” she supplied.

“Don’t get me started on cash-based versus accrual accounting,” he said with dire warning.

“Definitely not something to get into on a first date. That is, unless she’s a number cruncher herself.” She added smoothly, “So what does a CFO do exactly?”

He frowned. “What sorts of dates are you planning to set me up with? I’m not going to have the patience to deal with a clueless beauty queen.”

“Humor me.”

He sighed. “I provide the financial strategy for Whittaker Enterprises. We’re a family-owned conglomerate with technology and real estate interests.”

“I’ve read about you in the business section of the papers.”

“Have you?” he murmured.

She got the impression he was intrigued by the fact, and wondered whether she’d revealed too much.

In Boston, the Whittakers and their family-run company were omnipresent. Over the years, she’d been unable to resist reading the articles about Matt. He’d remained single, playing the field, keeping mum about his private life, and at the same time, cutting a wide swath across the corporate landscape.

“Day to day,” he went on, “I oversee the budget process and head up internal departments at Whittaker Enterprises, including administration and information technology.”

“My eyes haven’t glazed over yet.”

His lips quirked up. “I romance numbers, and lust after a positive bottom line.”

“Very funny.”

“I get upset when figures don’t balance, and nothing turns me on like a positive account.”

“See?” she said encouragingly. “You can make this interesting.”

“That’s the day job. I moonlight investing in new companies.”

She raised her brows. “You’re a venture capitalist?”

“I’m an angel, sweetheart,” he said, and the look he gave her was devilish.

Her mind tripped over his casual use of the endearment, even as she reminded herself again that their date wasn’t real. Still, this Matthew Whittaker was a lot more seductive than the one she remembered from five years ago.

“I give seed money before venture capitalists get involved. We’re called angels in the investment world.”

“I see.”

“The call I got earlier was about a company I’m thinking of investing in.”

At her questioning look, he supplied, “The company founder is having trouble ceding control to professional management.”

“Interesting.”

He leaned forward, his eyes holding hers. “Tonight, though, all I’m interested in is investing in you.”

As a come-on line, it was inventive and not half-bad.

After a moment, his eyes danced. “How’m I doing?”

“Not bad.” She cleared her throat and tried to clear her mind. She really had to stay on topic. “We should discuss how you’re going to describe yourself to a real date.”

“Tell me more about the Fletcher Method,” he countered.

“It’s a little like detox. It’s boot camp for entry into long-term commitment.”

“By reprogramming men?”

“Both sides,” she insisted. “It tries to clue in both parties about the expectations of the other side.”

“In other words, remember Valentine’s Day, her birthday and your anniversary.”

“That’s right, because, you know, there’s nothing that says ‘I love you’ like a Valentine’s Day card sent overnight express by your secretary.”

He smiled. “Okay, I’ll file that tip away. No more urgent deliveries arranged by the secretary.”

“That’s a start. Many men wake up well into their marriages scratching their heads and saying, ‘What did I do wrong?’ They don’t have a clue as to why the woman is upset. I don’t just want my clients to find a match, I want them to find a lasting match.”

He contemplated her for a moment. “Matchmaking is a curious field for you to go into.”

“You mean because I’ve had such bad luck in love myself?” She put into words what he’d left unstated.

He inclined his head.

“Not so curious. I have no intention of taking the plunge myself anytime soon.”

“A bit cynical for a matchmaker, aren’t you?”

“I suppose it’s easy for you—or anyone—to think that, since I was stood up at the altar, but it’s far from the truth.”

The times any of her clients had bothered to delve into her past or had recognized her as Parker’s jilted bride, she’d had the same answer at the ready. After all, no one wanted to take advice from a matchmaker who was unlucky in love.

In fact, the effects of a powerful cocktail of pain, humiliation and, yes, seething anger had worn off long ago. These days, she was on an even keel—except when her past came back to visit her, especially in the form of an enigmatic corporate tycoon.

Matt looked at her quizzically. “Have you ever thought maybe not getting married to Parker was for the best?”

How many times had well-meaning friends and relatives said such stock phrases to her? These things happen for a reason. It just wasn’t meant to be. Time heals all wounds.

“It was a little hard to remember why it may have been for the best when my credit card bill arrived,” she said only half-jokingly.

She and Parker had divided the wedding costs, but it had been her wallet that had taken the relatively greater hit.

Matt raised his eyebrows. “Parker didn’t offer to settle the bills because—”

“—because he ran out on me?” she finished for him, then shook her head.

“Most of the wedding vendors had to be paid ahead of time, and we split those costs,” she admitted. “But, you know, since I decided to take the honeymoon trip anyway…”

“You got stuck with the cost.”

She nodded. “Not the wisest move financially, but it proved to be brilliant spin and PR.”

“Yes,” he murmured, “I recall you caused a stir.”

“I also insisted on repaying my parents for some of the money they spent, since I felt it had been my mistake.”

“Yours?”

She looked away from his penetrating gaze. “Yes, for maybe not seeing signs that things weren’t perfect between me and Parker.”