Better Than Before (RightMatch.com Trilogy) (2 page)

However, Harold had recently married a
babe
who was much younger than him. Since then, Spence thought, Harold had lost his edge. And it was one trait that Spence couldn’t tolerate—an executive’s personal life affecting his professional decisions. Spence’s mother consistently said he needed to show his softer side, but in the world of finance that was the kiss of death.

“Closing AllGreen is premature,” Harold began. “It’ll put a lot of people out of a job and we still have a chance to make the company a success.”

“It’s a business decision, not a social welfare one.” Spence scanned those around the table. “We can recoup the lion’s share of our investment if we act now.”

“I’d prefer to give them extra time.” Harold was more committed to this venture than Spence had realized. And the partners would listen to him because he’d brought in companies that made them significant revenue. However, AllGreen wasn’t going to be one of them.

After the vote was taken and AllGreen was given a month to come up with a new business plan, Spence didn’t balk again. They’d find out soon enough that he was right, and he’d probably have to go in and do the dirty work. Though Spence didn’t get off on destroying people or their dreams, he had a cool-headed ability to call a halt to a deal that wasn’t working. His forté had always been making the tough decisions, which was one of the few valuable lessons he’d learned from his father.

After the issue was settled, Lester, the current chair, asked Spence about Cole’s dating service, named RightMatch.com.

True to his word, after Spence had pushed the financing through, Cole had hired a staff and gotten the site up and running in about a month. Now it was the hottest dating service on the Net. And true to
his
word, Spence had joined as two personas, his own and Spencer Tracy Brewer, his real middle name—God bless his mother—and her maiden one.

They both garnered a number of winks, designed to let the patrons indicate they were interested in each other. He picked six for each of his profiles. He won the first half of the bet within days, as women flocked to meet the rich Spence right away. Those interested in his other profile—a construction worker, widowed, no kids but wanted some, who was looking for a girl-next-door type to settle down with—were more reticent to meet him, which was understandable. This group, as a whole, didn’t seem to have much confidence in themselves. That realization had caused him twinges of guilt, but he managed to squelch them. Overall, it had taken longer than he’d thought it would, but five women had asked to meet with him, and he’d dropped them under the ruse of being a widower who wasn’t ready to take the next step yet.

One more to go—Number Six—for the construction worker.

“The dating site is already a success. I know you had some concerns about investing in my brother, but he’s come through.” Spence rolled his gold pen between his palms. “It’s shocking how many people are willing to pay so much money for a date.”

“Leave it to you to say that.” The comment was made by another partner, John.

Given his good genes and the confidence that came with indisputable success, Spence had his pick of women from the glitz-and-glamour circles of the Rockland social scene. Though the town wasn’t the Big Apple, Rockland’s female component was interesting enough for him. The women he actually dated were a hell of a lot different from the one who was emailing him now. He pictured Marlena, the advertising executive he’d been seeing off and on for the last six months. Now
she
was his type—tall, slender, cool and sophisticated.

The meeting ended and Spence returned to his spacious office, with a view of the city’s skyline. As the founder and biggest stockholder of Global Industries, Spence had kept the headquarters in Rockland to be near his family. He didn’t like getting too close to anybody, but he couldn’t help himself with his brothers and mother. He often flew to New York where he’d set up another office and met the board or clients there, but he liked living in his hometown.

Dropping down in the chair behind his big cherry desk, he clicked into his computer, which also received his personal email. He opened Number Six’s first.

The note was written this morning. Often, like this one, her stories were about her kids and dog. After he’d finished reading the tale about a nocturnal visit to the animal hospital, he sat back and stared at the screen.

 Annie was more interesting than the other women who had wanted to meet him. For one thing, she was taking the longest to suggest a date, which was a challenge. She liked to cook, garden and was religious about environmental issues—she asked him if he switched off lights went he left a room, if he unplugged cords when not in use to save electricity and if he eschewed the use of plastic-bottled water.

She also was getting her master’s degree at a local college and worked at a spa when her kids were in school or busy with their father. It must be an issue of money, but he couldn’t ask, as they hadn’t disclosed that kind of personal information. He had no idea why she’d split with hubby.

They agreed not to share any baggage but inevitably revealed their backgrounds, which he falsified and he presumed she told the truth about. Their profiles and some of the emails discussed the kind of person each was hoping to date. Again he lied, and again, she was truthful. Now they were emailing on a regular basis about their daily activities.

He felt another spurt of guilt. She was a nice woman and he was stringing her along. But there was more to his unease than that simple explanation—damned if he didn’t
like
her, even worry about her sometimes. And who would have thought he’d find her and her stories about her kids and dog endearing?

Unwilling to examine that notion, or maybe because of it, he reached for the BlackBerry and punched in a number to make a date with Marlena. When she answered, he said, “Hi, there, gorgeous, it’s Spence. Got any plans for dinner?”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” the sultry voice over the phone line purred. “I was wondering when we’d get together again, Spencer.”

He glanced at the computer. “I’ve been busy.”

Pleased that Marlena had accepted, he made arrangements and clicked off. He had a meeting in fifteen minutes and should go over his notes on an impending deal where he planned to convince an unwilling company to go public, so he didn’t understand at all why he scrolled down his phone contacts and found Number Six’s cell number. He’d wheedled it out of her because he hoped talking to each other might facilitate her request for a date, which he wanted in order to end this charade. Now he admitted he wouldn’t mind hearing the voice that matched the picture she’d posted online. Maybe he’d call her after he got back from his meeting.

 That he felt a jolt of anticipation at talking to her for the first time concerned him a bit. This hadn’t happened with the others. But he ignored the feeling and pulled up the next client’s file.

o0o

Annie Hopkins was so tired she could barely see straight. She’d been at the animal hospital all night with Jake, her beautiful but ill dog, a Shiba Inu. Her mother had come over to stay with the kids. Annie had gotten back at seven a.m. but had not been to sleep. To boot, Alex and Hope had the morning off from school because of teacher workshops, so they were home, and she couldn’t take a nap.

Her seven-year-old daughter, Hope, sat on the family-room floor with Jake. “Are you sure he’s okay, Mommy?”

A few months ago, the dog had gotten lost and she and the kids had put up flyers around the suburb where they lived, hoping someone would find their pet. After two weeks, they’d given up and mourned the dog’s loss. Then a neighbor had discovered Jake in the woods behind her development, starved and sick but alive.

All three of them, including her pre-teen son who tried hard to be tough, had cried when Jake had come home. They’d nursed him back to health with a ground beef–and–rice mixture the vet recommended and Annie made fresh every day. The problem was, now the animal wouldn’t eat regular dog chow.

“The vet said he’s fine, honey. It was the store-bought food I gave him that made him sick. I guess he’s not ready for it.”

Hope had inherited Annie’s light brown hair and hazel eyes, but her smile was all her own. As always, that smile filled Annie’s heart with joy. These were the best times of her life, when she could be with her kids and enjoy them.

Given that, she felt a bit bad of for starting a new job tonight at an upscale restaurant run by her best friend, Julia. Annie had planned to get a second job once she finished her graduate work. But after a vacancy on the staff had opened up, she’d had to take the spot before she finished her classes. Waitresses at Julia’s café made a good amount of money. That money would tide her over until she got the next thing she wanted most in life, a full-time, teaching job. As it was March, she’d already sent in applications.

Alex sauntered in and dropped onto the couch next to her, his adolescent body gangly and awkward. She mourned the loss of his childhood. And she was worried about him. For the past few weeks, he’d been sullen, cranky even, which wasn’t like him. Her ex, Keith, thought his moods swings were because he was approaching puberty, but Annie sensed more was bothering him. He wouldn’t talk about it, though, when she’d questioned him.

 “How you doing?” she asked, mussing his hair, the same shade and texture as his father’s.

“Okay. We gotta go to school this afternoon?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t you?”

“I dunno.” He stood. “I’m going outside and toss my ball around.” Alex loved baseball and hoped to try out for the seventh-grade team next year.

“Put a jacket on honey. It’s cool out today.”

For once, he didn’t argue and grabbed a sweatshirt from the arm of the couch.

“Want me to pitch to you?”

He assumed a male indulgent expression. How had he learned that so soon? “You throw like a girl, Mom.”

“You can play for real with your dad tonight when you go over to his house.” The kids spent Wednesdays and every other weekend with Keith. He’d been a lousy husband, but he was a good father and rarely missed a set time with them. “Meanwhile, you could give me a chance.” She smiled at him. “I’ve been practicing.”

When Alex agreed, Hope stood. “I’m coming, too, Mommy. You can play with me in the sandbox afterwards.”

Willing away her fatigue, Annie followed them out, the dog in tow. Alex took up position at one end of the big backyard near a huge oak tree. Hope crossed to the sandbox, which Annie had filled yesterday with white sand. It was early in the season for that, but Hope had asked for it. Nudging away from all of them, Jake settled in the shade.

Annie
had
improved, as she’d indeed been practicing with Julia’s boys, and made several acceptable catches. Her pitching wasn’t bad either. One caught a strike.

“Hey, Mom!” Alex seemed startled. “You did great.”

“I told you I was better.”

After fifteen minutes of play, Alex lost interest. He’d taken a seat at one of the umbrella tables with his Game Boy, so she walked over to the sandbox. “Ready for a castle?”

“Uh-huh. I got out the molds for it.”

First Annie went to the house, turned on the water, then returned to Hope. Annie was really getting tired now, and the ache between her shoulder blades bordered on painful. “You make the turrets, Mommy.”

Holding up the hose, she said, “That’s why I got this, sweetie.”

Five turrets and one fairly lopsided castle later, Annie checked her watch. “Time to go inside and clean up, guys. Then I’ll fix you lunch.”

“Will you take us to school, Mom?” Alex asked. “The bus is so lame.”

“Sure.” Then she could get some sleep.

Just as the kids got inside, the cell phone in her pocket rang. She kept it with her in case one of the principals called about one of the jobs she’d applied for. Sinking onto the padded chair Alex had vacated, she put her head back against the cushion and answered. “Hello.”

“Annie?”

She didn’t recognize the male voice. “Yes, this is she.”

“It’s Spence.”

Oh. Oh! “Spence, from online?”

“Uh-huh.”

 Suddenly energized, she sat up straighter and tried to calm her pulse. “Hi.”

“You said I could call.”

“I’m surprised you did, though.”

“I read your email,” he continued. His voice was deep timbered and slightly husky. “Had a rough night?”

“Yeah.”

Nervous, she fiddled with her hair. Though she’d resisted the fortieth birthday present Julia and Lauren, her other best friend, had given her—a subscription to the hot, new online-dating site RightMatch.com—she was enjoying this particular match.

Spencer Tracy Brewer, given his first two names by a father who collected old films, was the only man she was in contact with now, and in a moment of weakness, she’d given him her phone number. Maybe it was because they emailed every day. Maybe it was because they discussed their beliefs, their goals, their deepest wishes, many of which they had in common. She had kids and he wanted some. He preferred a quiet out-of-the-limelight life, as did she. They both liked movies, casual dinners and walking in the city. But they hadn’t shared baggage, hadn’t shared ugly pasts.

And Annie had an ugly past.

“Annie, are you still there?”

“Sorry, I’m zoning out. Jake’s better today. Right now we’re in the yard and he’s sleeping under the tree.”

“You’re outside?”

“Uh-huh, I was playing with Alex and Hope.”

“The kids are home? What about school?”

She explained the morning off.

“After I read you’d been up all night, I was hoping you’d get some rest.”

“I will as soon as I drive them to school.”

“Not before?”

“No, of course not. It’s, um, nice to hear your voice.”

There was a long pause. Jeez, should she not have said that? Email was much safer because you could think about what you wrote.

“I thought maybe it was time to take the next step, Annie.”

“I guess.” Annie still hadn’t decided how many steps she wanted to take with this man. Her insecurities had been heightened by her bad breakup with Keith, and even though two years had passed, she was still sorting things out. But Lauren and Julia said she should push herself, so she would.