As he took the sofa, Michaela sat in a chair, too far away for his knee to accidentally brush hers.
“And what does your sister think about that?”
He chuckled. “Oh, it’s a surprise. But believe me, she’ll love it.”
The smile faded from her luscious lips. “I would never do this without her consent. That would be unethical.”
He waved away the concern. “You don’t have to worry about payment. I’ll take care of that.”
She had very pretty brows, even if they were furrowed. “I’m not worried about payment. But I can’t match a woman who doesn’t know I’m matchmaking for her.” Her voice was stern, like an Old West schoolmarm taking on a bully.
But he wasn’t a bully. “I’m not asking you to set her up with just anybody. I’m concerned about her happiness.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Then why isn’t she here with you?”
He didn’t say that he needed to keep this on the down-low because Gabby would never agree. But how was he supposed to plead his case? “Look, Mick, I really need this.”
She stiffened. “My name is Michaela. Please don’t call me Mick.”
Oops. She was a bit of a stuffed shirt. Or could only men be stuffed shirts? And how did you win over a stuffed shirt? He had no idea. But suddenly he felt a little desperate. “But you see, we made a million-dollar bet,” he said before he thought better of it.
She stared at him, her mouth slightly open, her parted lips a temptation. Until she said, “Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?”
Double oops. Maybe the truth wasn’t such a good idea.
Especially when she mumbled under her breath, “That’s absolutely crazy.” Or had it been, He’s absolutely crazy?
Michaela had looked him up when he’d made the appointment and therefore knew Troy Harrington was a billionaire. But a million dollars was a lot of money to throw around on a bet, even for a billionaire.
She tried not to sound judgmental when she asked, “What exactly is the bet?”
Was that sheepishness causing his frown? No, it couldn’t be. Billionaires were never sheepish. “That whoever falls in love first has to pay out a million bucks.”
She couldn’t help the widening of her eyes. Maybe he really was crazy.
And she wanted no part of a crazy billionaire. “I don’t believe I’m the right matchmaker for you and your sister.”
He jumped in almost before she stopped speaking. “The money will go to charity, so it’s for a good cause.”
Honestly, who would bet a million dollars on love, even if it was going to charity? Oh right, a crazy billionaire.
She hadn’t done a deep dive on him, but she knew he was an Olympic diver, no pun intended, who’d won several gold medals and now ran a sports gear empire.
Could you become an Olympic gold medalist three times over if you were crazy?
She also remembered seeing him at the coffee shop. Who wouldn’t notice a hunk like him? All that dark hair and those sinfully blue eyes, and so handsome with his athletic build that she’d felt a sexy thrum in her blood. But she hadn’t known who he was. One certainly didn’t expect an Olympian to pop into the local coffee shop, let alone a billionaire.
Oh yes, she’d noticed him. But that was as far as it went. She had her business and didn’t date a lot—okay, she hadn’t been on a date in a year. Michaela claimed it was because she was so busy with work, but her mom refuted that, saying it was because Michaela had very high standards. But the truth was, she’d kissed too many frogs. She was far better at matching billionaires than she’d ever been at matching herself. She had lousy taste in men—no, horrendous taste in men. She could matchmake the world, but she couldn’t matchmake herself. It was the matchmaker’s curse.
But this man made her heart flutter. From the moment he’d walked into her office, she’d found herself almost tongue-tied.
Still, he was a billionaire. And he wanted her to match his sister, because of a bet, no less. Crazy.
It wasn’t that billionaires were a bad lot. Those she’d worked with were quite nice. She got rid of the creepy ones who came to her ASAP. But though she worked with billionaires, she wasn’t one of them. She would never fit in with that set.
And she’d never match herself with one.
It reminded her of the Taylor Swift song, “But Daddy, I Love Him,” about a simple girl rising too high and falling for the wrong boy. For her, though, it was more that she wanted a man who’d worked his way up like she had. One who didn’t have everything handed to him. Someone with whom she would have something in common.