A Match Made on Madison (The Matchmaker Chronicles) (27 page)

“There wasn’t any. Only a fine. And I paid it. That way you won’t have to make a court appearance.”

“We’ll pay you back,” Devon said.

“You sure as hell will,” Mark was back to channeling my father, “and I assume you’ve learned that it’s best to keep that kind of seduction confined to the privacy of the bedroom?”

“Maybe not even that,” Lindy said, wrapping her coat more tightly around her.

“We’ll keep it private from now on. I can promise you that.” Devon slid an arm around Lindy, the “we” sounding positively possessive. While I didn’t condone the methodology, I applauded the results. Lindy may have set out to seduce Devon, but it was the backfire that had cemented their relationship. It was going to be all right.

And I was never going to work with twentysomethings again.

We hustled them out of the building, relieved to see that the sidewalks were blessedly free of the press. Mark hailed a taxi, and the two of them slid inside, safe and sound, and relatively unharmed.

“Did the grandmother really refuse to press charges?” I asked as we watched the cab pull away.

“Well, it took a phone call and a little persuasion,” he admitted, signaling to his driver that we were ready.

“You really are amazing,” I said as the black Lincoln pulled up to the curb. “I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d had to deal with it on my own.”

“You’d have figured out how to handle it,” he answered, his smile warm. The driver opened the door, and I hesitated.

“I really should let you go. You’ve done enough already. I mean, first you rescue me and now you’ve done the same for two of my clients. It’s really above and beyond. I can see myself home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, we haven’t eaten yet, and I promised you dinner.”

Some part of me wanted to say no. I’m not sure exactly why, considering I’d been all but stalking the man for the past week, but suddenly I felt shy. Still, I hadn’t had the chance to tell him about Cybil, and instinct said I should close the deal before he had a chance to think about it all and have second thoughts.

On the other hand, I might be better off just calling it a day. I hadn’t exactly been working at the top of my game of late, and I really didn’t need another incident. So instead of making a decision, I stood on the sidewalk like an idiot.

I think, quite honestly, that I might have stood there all night, but fortunately for us both, Mark was not so indecisive. “Get in. You need to eat.”

Suddenly I realized he was right. I was absolutely starving. “Okay,” I said more to myself than to Mark. “Let’s go. I’m famished.”

I got into the car, settling into the warm leather with a sigh. It had been quite a day. Mark was quiet for the ride, and I was grateful, I needed a moment to gather my wits.

The lights of Manhattan whizzed by as we drove down Sixty-seventh and turned onto Park, the elegant facades of the buildings almost regal. We passed the Regency, and the Waldorf, and St. Bartholomew’s, the church’s spires awe-inspiring as they reached into the night sky. Then we drove around Grand Central and down into the Murray Hill Tunnel, coming out at Thirty-third.

This part of the avenue was busier than its uptown counterpart. People were out, enjoying a night in New York. The car pulled up to the curb at Twenty-seventh, and Mark helped me out. “It’s just a short walk,” he said, breaking the silence, and I nodded, content just to follow along.

The restaurant, i Trulli, was warm and welcoming, the smell of garlic and wine and cheese comforting in the way only good food can be. We wound our way past late-night diners, out to a tree-canopied garden, and I felt all the tensions of the day melting away.

“This is fabulous,” I said, accepting the glass of wine the waiter offered. “Just what I needed. How did you know?”

“It’s one of my favorite places, and I figured that after the Waldorf, you’d want someplace quiet to unwind. I hadn’t counted on our excursion to the 19th Precinct, but I called while we were there to let them know we were only delayed.”

“Well, it’s perfect,” I sighed, taking a sip of the wine.

“Try the bread. The butter is whipped with ricotta cheese. It probably isn’t diet-friendly, but it’s damn good.” He took a slice and slathered it with butter, my mouth watering with every pass of the knife.

He handed it to me and I bit in, closing my eyes with pleasure. “You’re right,” I said, swallowing. “It’s fabulous. Is the rest of the food this good?”

“Better,” he answered, opening his menu.

The waiter arrived, and while Mark ordered, I tried to narrow down my choices. It wasn’t easy because everything looked wonderful, but I finally decided on the cavatelli, little dumplings with broccoli rabe and almonds. The waiter hurried away, and I sat back with a sigh.

“Long day.” It was a statement not a question, and I nodded my agreement.

“You really are full of surprises,” I said, realizing that for the first time since making the bet, I was actually feeling contented. As if everything was right with the world. Of course, it was probably just the calm before the storm.

“How so?” Mark asked, pouring himself some more wine.

“Well, this, for starters. But it’s more than that. I mean, two days ago you were telling me to get lost, and then you call me out of the blue for a fabulous dinner in a building every New Yorker would kill to see the inside of. And then today you go out of your way to help me and then my clients. Why?” Okay, never look a gift horse in the mouth. I know the saying, but I was really curious.

“I guess the real answer is that you’re full of surprises, too. You’re not what I thought you’d be at all.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, realizing how neatly he’d managed to flip the conversation from him to me.

“Just that you’re an interesting dichotomy. On the one hand, you believe fervently in arranged marriages. Or, as you put it, a controlled form of intimacy. But on the other hand, you care so passionately about your clients and friends that you’d do almost anything for them.”

“How can you possibly know that?” I asked, intrigued and sort of freaked out all at the same time. I work really hard to keep my emotions in check. I mean, in my business they’re a detriment. I can’t afford to care.

“I’ve seen you in action.” He smiled and reached for another piece of bread.

So maybe I was more transparent than I thought. Or maybe he was just particularly insightful. Either way, I didn’t really relish the idea of being under the microscope, better to move the topic to something less personal.

“I’m just doing my job. And on that note, I think I have someone you might be interested in.”

His frown was so fierce, I thought maybe I’d misunderstood. “You haven’t had second thoughts?”

“Not as long as you haven’t.” His expression was still intense, but not as angry.

“Why would I change my mind?” I asked, not certain that I was following his train of thought. “I’ve been pursuing you for almost a week.”

“Yes, you have,” he said. “And you’ve got me. I guess I just didn’t expect you to produce someone so quickly.”

“Well, I don’t always move this quickly.”

“So what’s different about me?”

“I just want the best for you. And I think Cybil fits the bill.”

“Your friend? She’s on your list?”

“No, actually, she’s not. It’s just that the two of you have a lot in common, and she’s just broken up with her on-again-off-again boyfriend, and so the timing is perfect.”

“But she’s rebounding. Surely that’s not the best criterion for a prospective match?”

“Usually I’d agree with you. But this is different. I told you last night, Cybil’s really special, and she deserves someone who can appreciate the fact. And I think that person is you.” Funny, in saying it out loud, I suddenly wasn’t as certain as I’d been before, but it really didn’t matter. It was up to the two of them now.

“Well, I appreciate your vote of confidence, but shouldn’t I be signing a contract or paying you first? After all, you’re not running a charity service.”

I laughed and reached for my glass. “Absolutely not. In fact, you’ll find that I’m quite expensive.”

“So maybe we should hold off on the date thing until we get everything squared away.”

“I’m not worried. I know you’re good for it. And besides, after everything you’ve done for me, I owe you one.”

He nodded, but I could see that he was still troubled.

“Look, Mark,” I said, “it’s perfectly normal to be nervous about this kind of thing. I mean, everyone wants to believe that they’ll fall in love and live happily ever after. And if, by chance, they’ve avoided that fantasy, then our culture will inundate them with the idea until they capitulate. But the truth is that most people need a little help. And that’s where I come in.”

“I’m not nervous,” he said, shaking his head, but I could still see the concern in his eyes.

“You’ll love Cybil. I promise. She’s amazing.”

“I’m sure she is.” Again I was surprised at his lack of enthusiasm. But then most of my clients were a bit hesitant in the beginning.

“I told you that we were best friends, but she’s a lot more than that. The Baranskis come from old money. They’ve been in New York for practically ever. So it would be easy for Cybil to coast, but she hasn’t. She’s managed to make her life a success without falling back on her family’s reputation.”

“So what does she do?” he asked, nodding at the waiter as he set our food in front of us.

“She’s a columnist. Works for Rupert Murdoch. I think she’s syndicated in something like three hundred dailies, and a dozen or so weeklies. She’s had articles in People and Glamour. And she even made the cover of
Time Out New York
."

“How did she handle all the things that have been happening to you?” His frown now seemed less aggravated.

“She helped a lot, actually. She ran interference for me after the debacle in Bungalow 8. The press could have been a lot more vicious, but she called in a lot of markers to help contain the damage.”

“But not with the photograph?”

“She’s used pretty much everything she had. The best she could do there was tell the real story in her column. But in all honesty, I’m not sure how much that helped. I mean, anything she says is suspect since she’s my friend. But it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Sounds like you’re lucky to have her.”

“I am. And you’ll see what I mean when you meet her.”

He cut a piece of the veal he’d ordered. “So how does this work?”

“The old-fashioned way,” I said, forking a mouthful of pasta. “You call her and ask her out.”

“I see,” he said. “I guess I thought you’d be there to run interference.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary. And besides, nothing kills a mood more than a third wheel.”

“Well, it isn’t as if I’m going to romance her, right? I mean, this is just a business arrangement.”

He was twisting my words and throwing them back at me. “I don’t think a little romance would hurt. I mean, after all, you want to make a good impression.”

“So give me her number.”

I was surprised he’d surrendered so easily. For some reason I’d expected more of a fight. And, equally alarming, I was actually disappointed. I fumbled in my purse for a pen, trying to analyze my scattered emotions. Cybil and Mark were perfect for each other. I was never wrong about this sort of thing.

So why was I suddenly feeling hesitant? Fallout from a very trying day, no doubt. I shrugged it off and wrote Cybil’s contact information on the back of one of my business cards. “Here you go.”

“Shall I call her now?” he asked, pulling out his cell phone.

“No. We’re in the middle of dinner.” The protest seemed ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t eat and talk on the phone all at the same time. “Besides, I want to give Cybil a heads-up.”

“You haven’t told her about this?”

“Of course I have. And she’s delighted at the prospect of getting to know you.” Okay, I was exaggerating slightly, but she had agreed. And once they’d gone out, they’d both see that I was right. “But she doesn’t know that you’ve signed on.”

“Well, if I were a betting man,” he smiled, “I’d put big money on Althea telling anyone who’d listen that you’ve managed to snag me as a client.”

“I think you’d lose that one. Making it public would only make Althea look bad.”

“Well, someone else then. There were a lot of people at the Waldorf tonight, and news travels fast.”

“Well, either way I want to talk to Cybil first. So why don’t you wait until tomorrow to call?”

“Fine,” he said, putting the phone away. “We’ll do it your way.”

My way was actually totally suspect. I didn’t need to talk to Cybil first. When Mark called, she would be more than capable of connecting the dots. So the real question here was why in the world I wanted the delay?

This was exactly what I wanted. A professional coup and a deliciously happy friend all rolled together into a single white wedding. And yet, I’d just told Mark to wait. Clearly, I was losing my mind.

Chapter 20

Park Avenue Floratique.
368 Park Avenue South (corner of Twenty-sixth Street), 800.472.7528.

Skilled in the latest forms of contemporary floral design, our award-winning team of floral designers can create a dramatic floral creation that will delight the mind and touch your soul. . . . For those who are not content with the ordinary.

—www.parkavenuefloratique.com

∞∞∞

I adore flowers. Just walking by the window of a florist or the corner bodega’s flower display lifts my spirit. And I’m an equal-opportunity flower lover. For me a daisy or a carnation is every bit as delightful as an orchid or a rosebud. I’ve been known to buy three bouquets at a time from a stand on Lex just to fill my apartment with the glorious riot of color.

And even though I’m not hesitant to buy my own flora, I like it even better when I arrive in my lobby to find a beautiful arrangement waiting to surprise me. Bearing that in mind, you can imagine how delighted I was when Harry, our concierge, told me that the exquisite crystal vase of lilies, roses, and irises was for me.