The Perfect Match. Debbie Macomber

The Perfect Match - Debbie Macomber


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thirties, but it was difficult to tell. His facial features were attractive enough, but he wasn’t strikingly handsome. Still, she found herself fascinated by the strength of character she saw in the uneven planes of his face. His dark hair was cut military short. His jaw was strong, his cheekbones high and his mouth full. That was the way she’d describe him physically, but there was apparently much more to this man than met the eye. At least, her grandfather was convinced of it.

      Several months earlier Anton Hartman had merged his well-established business-supply firm with the fast-expanding company owned by Zachary Thomas. Together the two men had quickly dominated the market.

      For weeks now, Gramps had wanted Janine to meet Zachary. His name had popped up in every conversation, no matter what they were discussing. To say her grandfather thought highly of his partner was an understatement.

      “Gramps has spoken…well of you,” she said next.

      A hint of a smile—just the merest suggestion—touched his mouth, giving her the impression that he didn’t smile often. “Your grandfather has one of the keenest business minds in the country.”

      “He’s incredible, isn’t he?”

      Zachary’s nod betrayed no hesitation.

      There was a polite knock on the door and a tall middle-aged woman wearing a navy-blue pin-striped suit stepped into the room. “Mr. Hartman phoned,” she announced primly. “He’s been delayed and asked that you meet him at the restaurant.”

      Zach’s lean dark face tightened briefly before he cast Janine an uneasy glance. “Did he say when he was going to get there?”

      “I’m sorry, Mr. Thomas, but he didn’t.”

      Janine looked at her watch. She was supposed to meet Pam at three. If they were delayed much longer, she’d be late.

      She scowled at Zach’s apparent reluctance to entertain her in Gramp’s absence. “Maybe it would be best if we rescheduled for another day,” she offered brightly. She wasn’t any happier about the prospect of waiting in a restaurant, just the two of them, than he was. “Gramps is held up, I’m meeting Pam, and you’re obviously a busy man.”

      An uncomfortable silence followed her remark. “Is it your habit not to show up when your grandfather’s expecting you?” he asked sharply.

      Janine bristled. “Of course not.” She swallowed the words to defend herself. Her suggestion hadn’t been unreasonable and he had no right to insinuate that she was inconsiderate and rude.

      “Then I feel we should meet your grandfather at the restaurant as he requested,” he finished stiffly.

      “By all means,” she said, forcing a smile. She stood and reached for her coat, watching Zach from the corner of her eye. He didn’t like her. That realization had a peculiar effect on Janine. She felt disappointed and a little sad. Zach hadn’t said much, and actually there hadn’t been time for a real conversation, but she’d sensed his attitude almost from the first. He thought of her as spoiled and frivolous, probably because he knew she didn’t hold a responsible job and loved to travel. Part of her longed to explain that there were good reasons she’d chosen the lifestyle she had. But from the looks he was sending her, it would be a waste of breath.

      Besides, it was more important to maintain the peace, however strained, for Gramps’s sake. She’d have enjoyed getting to know Zach, perhaps even becoming friends, but that didn’t seem likely.

      That morning, before Gramps had left the house, he’d been as excited as a little boy about their luncheon date. He’d come down the stairs whistling when he’d joined her for breakfast, his blue eyes sparkling. When she’d refused the use of the limousine, he’d spent the next fifteen minutes giving her detailed directions, as though she’d never driven in downtown Seattle.

      Almost as an afterthought, he’d mentioned that he had a morning meeting with an important client. If he hadn’t returned by the time she arrived, she was to go directly to Zach’s office, introduce herself and wait for him there.

      Shrugging into a raincoat, Zachary moved toward the door. “Are you ready?”

      She nodded, burying her hands in her pockets.

      Thankfully the restaurant her grandfather had chosen was close by. Without further discussion, they began to walk the few short blocks, although Janine had trouble matching her stride with Zach’s much longer one.

      Struggling to keep up with him, Janine studied Zachary Thomas, trying to determine exactly what disturbed her about the man. His height was a good example. He wasn’t tall—under six feet, she guessed—and since she was almost five-eight there wasn’t more than a few inches’ difference between them. Why, then, did he make her feel much shorter?

      He must have sensed her scrutiny because he turned and glared at her. Janine gave him a feeble smile, and felt the color rise in her cheeks. Zach’s dismissive glance did nothing to boost her ego. She wasn’t vain, but Janine knew she was attractive. Over the years, plenty of men had told her so, including Brian, the man who’d broken her heart. But she could have warts on her nose for all the notice Zachary Thomas gave her.

      If he found the bandanna dress disconcerting, he was probably put off by her hairstyle as well. She wore it short, neatly trimmed in the back with extra-long bangs slanted across her forehead. For years Janine had kept her hair shoulder-length, parted in the middle. One afternoon a few weeks earlier, for no particular reason, she’d decided to have it cut. She was in the mood for something radical and the style she now sported seemed more appropriate to the pages of a fashion magazine. Pam had been crazy about the change, insisting she looked “phenomenal.” Janine wasn’t convinced. Her one comfort was that, given time, her hair would grow back.

      Janine suspected Zach had characterized her as flamboyant, if not downright flashy. She, in turn, would describe him as austere and disciplined, perhaps solitary. Her grandfather saw all that, she knew, and a good deal more.

      “Mr. Hartman is waiting for you,” the maître d’ informed them when they entered the plush waterfront restaurant. He led them across the thick carpet to a high semicircular booth upholstered in blue velvet.

      “Janine, Zach.” Anton Hartman smiled broadly as they approached. The years had been kind to her grandfather. His bearing was still straight and confident, although his hair had grown completely white. His deep blue eyes, only a little faded, were filled with warmth and wisdom. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

      “It wasn’t any problem,” Zach answered for both of them before Janine could respond—as if he’d expected her to complain!

      Ignoring him, Janine removed her coat and kissed her grandfather’s leathery cheek.

      “Janine,” he began, then gasped. “Where did you get that…dress?”

      “Do you like it?” She threw out her arms and whirled around once to give him the full effect. “I know it’s a bit unconventional, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”

      Gramps’s gaze flickered to Zach, then back to her. “On anyone else it would be scandalous, but on you, my dear, it’s a work of art.”

      “Honestly, Gramps,” she said, laughing softly. “You never could lie very well.” She slid into the booth next to her grandfather, forcing him into the center, between her and Zach. Gramps looked a bit disgruntled, but after her turbulent first encounter with Zach, she preferred to keep her distance. For that matter, he didn’t seem all that eager to be close to her, either.

      She glanced at him and noted, almost smugly, that he was already studying the menu. No doubt he found ordinary conversation a waste of time. Janine picked up her own menu. She was famished. At breakfast she’d only had time for coffee and a single piece of toast, and she had every intention of making up for it now.

      When the waiter came to take their order, Janine asked for the seafood entrée and soup and salad. She’d decide about dessert later, she said. Once he’d left, Gramps leaned toward Zach.


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