My Fair Billionaire(20)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

The matchmaker finally seemed to remember she was with a client who was paying her a crapload of money to find him a mate—a mate who wasn’t already married, by the way—and returned to the sofa to snatch the folder out of Peyton’s hands and replace it with another. “An honest mistake,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll like this one even better.”

He opened that folder to find another sheet of vital statistics affixed to another four-by-six glossy, this time of a woman who wasn’t quite as breathtaking, amazing or incredible as the first, but who was still beautiful, gorgeous and dazzling. She, too, had auburn hair, a few shades lighter than the first, and eyes so clear a blue, they could have only been enhanced with Photoshop. Still, even without retouching, the woman was stunning.

“This young woman,” Caroline said, “is the absolute cream of Chicago society. One of her ancestors helped found the Chicago Mercantile Exchange and her father is on the Chicago Board of Trade. Her mother’s family are the Lauderdales, who own the Lauderdale department store chain, among other things. She herself has two college degrees, one in business and one in fashion design. Her name is…”

The matchmaker hesitated, glancing over at Ava.

As if taking the cue, Ava looked at Peyton and said, “Roxy Mittendorf. Roxanne,” she corrected herself when Caroline looked as if she would take exception. “But she went by Roxy when we were kids.”

Now Ava was the one to hesitate, as if she were weighing whether or not to say more. Finally, the weight fell, and she added, “At least until after that college spring break trip, when she came home with the clap. Then people started calling her Doxy. I’m not sure if that’s because they thought she was, you know, a doxy, or because her doctor prescribed doxycycline to treat it.” She brightened. “But I guess that’s really neither here nor there, is it? I mean, it’s not like she still has the clap. At least, I don’t think that’s one that flares up again, is it?”

She traded glances with both Peyton and Caroline, and when neither of them commented, she evidently felt it necessary to add, “Well, I never called her Doxy. I didn’t even find out about the clap thing until after graduation.”

Peyton closed the file folder and handed it back to Caroline without comment. Caroline fished for the third in her lap and exchanged it for the second one. When he opened this one he found—taa-daa!—another redheaded beauty, this one with eyes a lighter blue that might actually occur in nature. Interesting that the matchmaker was three for three with regard to red hair.

When he glanced back at Caroline, she seemed to sense his thoughts, because she said, “Well, you did indicate you had a preference for redheads. And also green eyes, but except for that first, all my other candidates for you have blue eyes. Still, not so very different, right?”

For some reason—Peyton couldn’t imagine why—they both looked over at Ava. Ava with her dark red hair and green, green eyes.

“What?” she asked innocently.

“Nothing,” Peyton said, grateful she hadn’t made the connection.

Had he actually stated on his application that he had a preference for green-eyed redheads? He honestly couldn’t remember. Then again, he’d been on the jet heading to Chicago at the time, surrounded by a ton of work he’d wanted to finish before his arrival. He’d only been half paying attention to how he was answering the questions. He thought about several of the women he had dated in the past and was surprised to realize that most of them had been redheads. Odd. He liked all women. He didn’t care if their hair was blond, brown, red or purple, or what color eyes they had, or what their ethnic, educational or economic origins were. If they were smart, funny and beautiful, if they made him feel good when he was with them, that was all he cared about. So why had he dated so many redheads? Especially when redheads were such a minority?

Instead of looking where he wanted to look just then, he turned his attention to his third prospective date. Before Caroline had a chance to say a word, he held up the photo to show Ava. “Do you know her?”

Ava looked almost guilty. “I do, actually. But you know her, too. She went to Emerson with us. She was in my grade.”

Peyton looked at the photo again. The woman was in no way familiar. Which was weird, because a girl that pretty he would have remembered. “Are you sure? I don’t remember her at all.”

“Well, you should,” Ava said. “You two played hockey together for three years.”

He shook his head. “That’s not possible. There weren’t any girls on the Emerson hockey team.”

“No, there weren’t.”

Understanding dawned on him then. Dawned like a good, solid blow to the back of the head. He looked at the photo again, shortening the hair and blunting the features a bit. “Oh, my God,” he finally said. “Is that Nick Boorman?”

“Nicolette,” Ava corrected him. “She goes by Nicolette now.”

Peyton closed the folder and handed it back to Caroline. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he said. “But it would just be kind of, um…”

“Awkward,” Ava whispered helpfully.

“Yeah.”

Caroline took the folder from him and tucked it under the other two candidates that were a no-go. But she was looking at Ava when she did it. “Who are you?” she asked.

Ava shrugged. “I’m just Mr. Moss’s assistant.”

Caroline didn’t look anywhere near convinced. She lifted the last of her folders defiantly. She spoke not to Peyton this time, but to Ava. “This candidate has only lived in Chicago for four years. She’s originally from Miami. Do you have any friends or family in Miami, Ms. Brenner? Any connection to that city at all?”

Ava shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

Caroline opened the folder and showed the photo to Ava before allowing Peyton to look at it. “Do you know this woman?”

Ava shook her head again. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her. Yet,” she added, seemingly pointedly.

“Good,” Caroline said. She turned to Peyton and finally allowed him to view the file. “This is Francesca Stratton. She started off as a software developer but is now the CEO of her own company. Her father is a neurosurgeon in Coral Gables, and her mother is a circuit court judge for the state of Florida. Their lineage in that state goes back six generations. And she’s a distant cousin to King Juan Carlos of Spain.”