Fortune's Perfect Valentine. Stella Bagwell
mind went blank. And Ted Reynolds wasn’t helping matters. He was—”
She was searching for the right word when Wes found it for her.
“Being an ass,” he finished.
She took a few tentative steps forward until she was standing close enough to see his brows pull into a scowl.
“You noticed?” she asked.
“Hell yes, I noticed.”
Realizing she was twisting the frames of her eyeglasses, she eased her grip and thrust her hands behind her. “Well, I’m not going to use him as an excuse for my breakdown. Everything I wanted to say about My Perfect Match came out wrong.”
His expression a picture of frustration, he turned and closed the distance between them. “Forget about it, Vivian. It’s over and done with. And frankly, what you said or how you said it doesn’t matter now. I’m the one who came out of this looking like a fool.”
Stunned that he was being so magnanimous about the whole thing, she stared at him. “You? What are you talking about? You didn’t miss a beat. You made My Perfect Match sound like something every single person should purchase.”
He rolled his eyes. “I realize you were visiting another planet during our interview, but surely you heard me say I’d be using the app for my own personal dating agenda.”
She tried to keep the dismay she was feeling off her face. “I heard. But I don’t understand your frustration. Ted Reynolds will never know if you use My Perfect Match. I doubt we’ll hear from him or the show’s producers again.”
“If this was just a phony promise made to a jackass television host, I wouldn’t care. But I was also speaking to a national audience. Many of whom purchase and use Robinson Tech products. They expect me to be forthright about myself and my company. Not to mention all the curiosity this is going to generate with the public. Everyone is going to be watching like a hawk to see what happens with me and this—dating thing of yours.”
Vivian rubbed fingers against her furrowed brow. She should be happy that her boss had managed to get himself in such a predicament. His misery was fitting payback for all that ridicule of My Perfect Match he’d spouted to her yesterday. Yet surprisingly, seeing the harried tension on his face right now didn’t give her the slightest feeling of satisfaction.
“I see what you mean,” she said thoughtfully. “As a representative of Robinson Tech, you feel obligated to follow through on your promise.”
“It’s a relief to see your brain is working again, Ms. Blair.”
One minute he used her first name and the next he reverted back to “Ms. Blair.” His vacillation made her wonder how he thought of her. As Vivian the woman, or Ms. Blair the computer developer? Either way, she wanted to tell him she’d had enough of his insults for one day, but she’d already put her job in enough jeopardy with the interview debacle.
“Well, if that’s the way you feel—I mean, if you’re actually going through with your vow to use My Perfect Match, then it’s only right that I use it, too. After all, I’m the one who has real confidence in the app.”
With a faint smirk on his lips, he stepped closer.
“You? Use the app?”
The incredulous tone of his voice made her lift her chin to a challenging angle. “What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll prove you wrong about My Perfect Match?”
“I hope you do prove me wrong and this blasted thing turns out to be a roaring success,” he countered, then slithered a skeptical look down the length of her body. “I just wasn’t aware that you were looking for a perfect man.”
I’m certainly not looking at him now. Vivian bit down on her tongue to keep the words from leaping out of her mouth.
“In this day and age, the task of finding a perfect man seems like a hopeless quest, but I’ve not given up the search,” she said primly, then shoved her eyeglasses onto her face. “And now that I’ve created My Perfect Match, I feel much more hopeful of finding him.”
The sly grin spreading over his lips was followed by a suggestive gleam in his blue eyes. One that left Vivian feeling so uncomfortable, she wanted to run out of his plush office as fast as her legs would carry her.
“Well, you’ve just made this whole fiasco more bearable and interesting. I’m willing to bet I find my perfect woman long before you find your perfect man.”
Thrilled for the chance to prove him wrong, she stuck out her hand. “It’s a deal.”
His fingers curled firmly around hers, and Vivian tried to ignore the heat racing up her arm and stinging her cheeks with color.
“Great,” he said. “May the best man win?”
The wry taunt in his voice put enough steel in her backbone to make a metal detector blow a fuse.
“You have it all wrong, Mr. Robinson. Let’s hope love wins. For the both of us.”
* * *
Wes stared thoughtfully after Vivian as she headed out the door. Adelle passed her on the way into his office.
Since the secretary didn’t enter his private work space unless she had good reason, he knew something was up. Given the bad start to his day, he figured it wasn’t good news.
While she walked briskly into the room, her high heels clicking with every step, Wes sank into the plush chair behind his desk and wiped a hand over his face.
“Okay, what’s happened? It’s nine forty-five in the morning and you look like you already need a stiff cocktail.”
Stopping in front of his desk, she tapped the eraser of her pencil against the cherry wood. “You’ve really done it,” she quipped. “How do you expect me to get any work done when my phone is jammed with calls?”
“Adelle, you knew this interview was happening this morning. I told you to inform everyone that I’d be late returning calls.”
Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Mr. Robinson, these aren’t your usual calls. This is coming from newspapers, television stations, radio and all sorts of media people. Everyone is buzzing with your announcement about My Perfect Match. I’ve been trying to put them off, but—”
“What do they want? If they’re interested in doing advertising for the app, then you should direct their calls to advertising and marketing.”
“Thank you for that helpful advice.” She shot him a tired look, then asked, “How long do you think I’ve been working here? A week or two?”
“Probably as long as the world has had white thread,” Wes said, not bothering to hide his impatience. He had more important things on his mind than listening to a lecture from his bossy secretary.
“That’s right. Longer than you can count. I believe I’ve gotten the hang of how to direct calls,” she informed him. “But I think you ought to know these calls are directed at your personal life. My impression is that the media plans to cover your so-called dates. You and the lucky lady will most likely be followed around like the hottest star of the week hounded by Hollywood paparazzi.”
“Oh, damn!”
She thrust her pencil into the hair above her right ear. “Oh, damn is right. What were you thinking?”
Ever since the interview had wrapped, Wes had been asking himself that very question. He’d accused Vivian of momentarily losing her senses; well, he’d admittedly committed the same crime.
“Clearly, I wasn’t,” he muttered, then rubbed his fingers over his closed eyelids. “It’s just that Ted Reynolds was doing his best to make a mockery of the app. I wanted to put him in his place.”
And surprisingly, Wes had wanted to come to Vivian’s defense. In spite of her ridiculous notions about finding