His jaw hardened. He looked as if he wanted to continue arguing with her but thought better of it.
“If I need pointers,” he said, his eyes glittering, “you’ll just have to give me some more lessons.”
Matt felt a jolt of lust.
Lauren was dressed in fitting colors for a Valentine’s Day dinner, and he appreciated the results.
His gaze focused of its own volition at the V of Lauren’s crushed velvet crimson top, which outlined her br**sts to perfection. The top was the showcase above a long, pencil-straight skirt and black suede pumps.
She was studying the menu in the flickering candlelight, and he was taking the opportunity to study her.
He’d been on his best behavior since the confrontation in her office last week, but he could sense she still considered his motives suspect.
He’d been able to pull some strings to get a last- minute dinner reservation at Aujourd’hui, in the Four Seasons Hotel. It was one of Boston’s top restaurants, and its decadent ambience, overlooking the Public Garden, was suited to a romantic tryst, just the way he wanted it.
It had taken some maneuvering to get Lauren to reserve Valentine’s Day for him and his next lesson in dating etiquette, and he wasn’t about to blow the opportunity.
He’d convinced her to make their next lesson for Valentine’s Day by arguing there was no reason they shouldn’t. If her goal was to awaken his romantic instincts, there was no better day for it. They both had the night free, and his schedule was otherwise packed—okay, maybe not that packed, he admitted to himself now. Still, she’d been doubtful, but he’d dangled the irresistible lure of marrying him off.
So now he had her just where he wanted her.
Ever since the wedding at Pine Hill, he’d been on a rapid slide to lust…passion…desire. Lauren’s vulnerable side had been on rare display that day, and he’d been intrigued and attracted.
He’d thought about her, and only her, while on those ridiculous dates she’d arranged for him, and soon he’d found himself making up reasons to reject one candidate after another.
Except the reasons weren’t made up. His little matchmaker was doomed to failure, because there was only one woman he wanted, and she was sitting across from him, dressed in a crushed velvet crimson top.
Whether Lauren knew it or not, tonight was the start of his plan to seduce her, and he planned to make the most of it, though he didn’t want to come on too strong and scare her off.
Now, after they ordered, he took the hand Lauren had resting on the table and drew it toward him.
He gazed into her eyes, his thumb drawing lazy circles on her inner wrist.
“Did I make a good choice?” he murmured.
“Hmm?” she asked, appearing distracted by the motion of his hand.
He nodded around them. “The restaurant. I’m hoping you like it.”
“Yes. Er—of course.” She looked down at their hands.
“I’m practicing,” he said in reply to her unspoken question.
She looked up, uncomprehendingly, and he forced himself to keep a straight face.
“Practicing for a date,” he explained.
He planned to exploit the blurred line between practice and reality to his advantage in his quest to have her.
“Oh.”
He could feel her rapid pulse. “Because I just want to be sure I’m getting it right.”
She wet her lips, and he almost groaned aloud in response.
“Ah…yes.”
“How’m I doing?” he murmured, striving to keep his face innocent when all he wanted to do was hoist her across the table and devour her.
A little line appeared between her brows. “What?”
He nodded at their joined hands. “How am I doing with my practice routine?”
“Oh, right.”
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.
“Well…” She cleared her throat. “Umm, you don’t want to come on too strong, but you do want to let her know you’re interested.”
“Like this?” he said in a low voice, raising her hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.
Her eyes widened. “Yes, ah, just like that. You’ll also want to compliment her.”
He lowered her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Back in college, what qualified as a compliment was a bad pickup line.”
“Such as?” she asked curiously, relaxing a fraction.
“You don’t want to know.”
“I’ve heard it all before,” she insisted. “Besides, whatever you say, just make sure you personalize it for her.”
“All right.” He leaned in and said with exaggerated seductiveness, “I must be lost at sea, because, baby, I’m drowning in your big blue-green eyes.”
Her laugh sounded breathless. “You’re right. That is terrible.”
“You’ve got a killer body, because, honey, it’s slaying me.”
“Stop,” she pleaded.
They were joking, but a strong undercurrent of sexual awareness ran through the conversation.
She sat back, and he finally let her slip her hand from his, breaking the spell.
“Bad pickup lines aside,” she said, “good communication is the key to a healthy relationship.”
He wondered what she’d say if he communicated what he really wanted from her.
When he’d walked into Ideal Match for the first time, his intention had been to deal with a nagging problem in the same swift and efficient way as he dealt with everything in his life.
Yes, his visit had been tinged with more than a little curiosity about Lauren herself, but he’d thought only about putting to rest any lingering feelings—of guilt or otherwise—by handing Lauren her juiciest client to date, namely, him in his incarnation as Boston’s number one bachelor for two years running.
Now he thought maybe he’d been deluding himself. Maybe he’d always been deluding himself.
He remembered the sucker punch to the stomach—the way he’d felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him—when during some long-ago society function, Parker had introduced Lauren to him as his fiancée. He’d quickly quelled the feeling, not wanting to examine it too closely.
Parker, he told himself now, was in the distant past and no longer even on the landscape. At some point, he should tell Lauren about events the night before she was to marry Parker—but he’d pick the time and place.
If he had a shot with Lauren at the moment, there was no reason why he shouldn’t take it.