Fortune's Perfect Valentine

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 everlasting love through a mobile app, he understood she’d worked long, tireless hours to get My Perfect Match to the public. She didn’t deserve to have her effort ridiculed in front of a national television audience. And yet, there was a part of him that wanted to open her eyes and show her that love wasn’t a cold, clinical pairing between a man and a woman. It was all about overwhelming attraction and desire. At least, that was how he wanted to imagine it. So far in his dating endeavors, he’d never experienced the euphoric state of mind called love.

“Hmm. I suppose if you find a woman who fits you like a glove, you’ll make Ted Reynolds look like more of a fool than he already is. Add to that, you’d prove Vivian’s theory about compatibility right. Which would be a good thing,” Adelle mused aloud. “And now that Ben is about to get married, it’s your turn to look for a wife.”

Wes grunted. “It’s not a written law that twins have to do everything alike, you know.”

The cell phone on Wes’s desk suddenly rang, preventing Adelle from flinging a disapproving remark at him. He picked up the phone to answer the call, but noticed she was already on her way out of the office.

“Just a minute, Adelle.”

Pausing at the door, she glanced back at him. For some odd reason, Wes suddenly wondered how the secretary had looked when she was Vivian’s age. Had she been madly in love with her husband? Or had the guy been like Wes’s father, Gerald? Unworthy of a good woman’s love? What if the dating app led Vivian to such a scoundrel?

“Was there something else?”

Adelle’s question had Wes mentally shaking himself. Vivian’s personal life was no concern of his. If any of her matches turned out to be cads, then that would be her problem.

“Yes, there was. Concerning my self-test of My Perfect Match, you can inform the media outlets I’ll be starting tomorrow. Oh, and you might also relay the message that Vivian will also be using the app—to find her perfect man,” he added drily.

Adelle looked at him with dismay. “Vivian? And you approve of that?”

Wes frowned. “Why would I disapprove?”

“Well, why indeed?” she asked with a smirk. “That sweet little thing thrown out there among all those wolves? I shudder to think who she might get tangled up with.”

Wes found it hard to imagine Vivian getting tangled up in the bedsheets with any man. She was too prim and calculating to have such a reckless encounter. “Believe me, Adelle, sweet little Vivian, as you call her, knows exactly what she’s doing.”

With a roll of her eyes, the secretary left the room, and Wes turned his attention to the phone in his hand. Before he could scroll through the call log, the face lit up with another call.

Seeing it was Ben, he drew in a bracing breath and took a seat. No doubt his twin had already heard about Wes’s declaration to use the dating app and was rolling on the floor with laughter. Well, Ben could do all the goading he wanted, Wes thought as he swiped to answer the call. When all was said and done, presenting his brother with a hefty sales number from My Perfect Match would shut him up.

* * *

When Vivian got back to Research and Development, George and Justine were waiting at her cubicle. From the guarded looks on their faces, she could tell they’d watched the live remote.

Holding up a hand to ward off their remarks, she said, “You don’t have to tell me. I was a complete disaster.”

George gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “It wasn’t all that bad.”

“Not at all,” Justine chimed in. “And you looked great with your hair like that.”

Vivian shot her a confused look, then quickly patted the top of her hair. “Like what? Is it all mussed up?”

“No,” Justine said with a giggle. “The way it’s tucked behind your ear. Gives you a really chic look.”

Just the thought of Wes’s infuriating remarks had Vivian quickly shaking her hair loose. “My hair was—just a mistake. And my mouth was even worse,” she added with a groan of misery. “Every word that passed my lips made me sound like an idiot! I’ve probably ruined any hope that My Perfect Match will be a big seller.”

“I wouldn’t think that,” George spoke up. “Uh, so what did Mr. Robinson say afterward?”

Before Vivian could answer George’s question, Justine pelted her with another.

“Probably angry, huh?”

Exhaling a long breath, Vivian moved past her coworkers and practically flopped into her desk chair. “Not exactly. I mean, Wes—uh, Mr. Robinson—isn’t the type to show much emotion. Have you two ever seen him angry?”

George and Justine both shook their heads.

Justine said, “We’re not as lucky as you, Viv. We rarely meet with the man.”