‘So, I think that about covers it.’
He bit back the urge to ask snarkily if she wanted to know what colour underwear he was wearing today.
The woman seated by his desk glanced at him and observed wryly, ‘You don’t like answering personal questions, do you?’
Ben bared his teeth in a forced smile. ‘Whatever gave you that impression?’
Elizabeth Young, the matchmaker, shrugged nonchalantly as she tapped something into her palm tablet. ‘I think the fact that you look about ready to jump out of the window gives it away.’
Ben scowled and walked back over to his desk. With every question she’d asked—from innocuous ones like, What’s your favourite holiday destination? to more edgy ones like What is it you want from a relationship?—he’d put more and more space between them. As much as he recognised his need for a convenient wife, the quantum leap from a life of no-strings encounters with beautiful women to a committed relationship—albeit for convenience’s sake—was making Ben’s skin prickle uncomfortably.
After witnessing the collapse of his parents’ marriage, which had fallen like a deck of cards at the first sign of trouble, Ben had never entertained notions of domestic bliss.
The matchmaker was right: if he could have jumped from the window he might just have tried it.
He scowled harder as he sat down—who the hell’s idea had this been again? Xander Trakas. Recalling the Greek man’s reaction that night, when Mancini had asked if this woman was an ex-lover, made Ben assess the slim and elegant blonde on the other side of his desk.
Hair that looked as if it tended towards being curly was tied back in a low bun. She was casually dressed, yet smart, in tailored trousers and a loose unstructured top under a fitted soft leather jacket. She oozed elegant style and, he had to admit, discretion and professionalism. Xander had been right.
As she looked at him now, he noticed that her eyes were an unusual shade of amber. Ben waited a beat to see if he had any reaction to her on a physical level. Nothing. He told himself that was good—the last thing he needed now was the distraction of someone he actually desired. Which brought him neatly back to why she was here.
He said, ‘So, now that you’ve mined my soul for every tiny detail, who do you suggest is my best prospect for a partner?’
He saw the unmistakable flash of cynicism in her eyes, and a small smile tipped up her mouth at one side.
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I’m under no illusions. I know that you’ve told me only as much as you want to reveal. I know men like you, Mr Carter, that’s why I’m good at my job.’
Ben decided to ignore the urge to ask exactly what she meant about knowing men like him. If it helped him to achieve what he needed to survive this crisis then what of it? He steepled his hands under his chin and admitted to a grudging respect for the way she wasn’t intimidated by him, as so many were.
‘Xander Trakas recommended you.’
And just like that this woman’s composure slipped slightly, just as Xander’s had that night in the bar, almost a week ago. She wasn’t so sanguine now.
She avoided Ben’s eye, fussing with the tablet. ‘I have lots of connections, he’s just one of them.’
Ben was intrigued by the button he’d obviously just pushed, but not intrigued enough to lose sight of his own goal. He became businesslike and sat forward again. ‘Forget I mentioned it. So, do you have anyone specific in mind?’
She turned her tablet around to face him, laying it flat on the desk, and pushed it towards him. ‘There are some possibilities here. Look through them and see if anyone piques your interest.’
Ben took the tablet and did as she had bid, scrolling through the pictures of women along with a few lines of their bios. They were all stunning in their own ways, and obviously accomplished. He scrolled past a human rights lawyer, the CEO of a software company, a UN interpreter, a supermodel...but none of them jumped out at him. He was about to hand the device back when one last woman appeared on the screen and something inside him went very still.
He didn’t even look at her bio. He was transfixed by her. In the picture her shoulder-length dark brown hair was being blown around her shoulders and face by a breeze and she was laughing into the camera, revealing two dimples. She had high cheekbones and a lush mouth. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d noticed dimples on a woman. Dark blue eyes, long-lashed. She was innocent and sensual all at once. And exquisitely, vibrantly beautiful.
For a second Ben found it hard to breathe. He also had a sense that she was somehow familiar.
Elizabeth obviously sensed his interest. ‘Ah, that’s Julianna Ford. Stunning, isn’t she? She’s British, and based in London, so that could prove a bit of a challenge, but as luck would have it she’s actually in New York this week for a charity benefit.’
Ben frowned sharply and looked up. ‘Ford? As in Louis Ford’s daughter?’
Elizabeth cocked her head. ‘Do you know her?’
He glanced at her picture again before pushing the tablet back towards Elizabeth. ‘I know of her. I met with her father a few years ago. I tried to persuade him to sell his business to me. He spoke of her, and I saw her pictures around his house, but she wasn’t there at the time.’
Ben struggled to remember. She’d been away on holiday...skiing? Whatever her father had said about her, it had reinforced the impression he’d formed of her at the time: she was the spoiled and pampered only daughter of a doting billionaire father.
Ben had experienced that scene while in London, where the rich partied alon
gside royalty and to excess. He’d hated it. It had been a forcible reminder of the fact that if his father hadn’t been so corrupt Ben would have still been part of that world too. Still living a blinkered life, blind to harsh reality. The harsh reality that had reshaped him into the man he was today. Answerable to no one and with his astronomical success bedded so firmly into the earth that he would never suffer the same fate as his parents—being at the mercy of volatile markets with no solid investments to speak of.