Nothing But Trouble Page 2

  Next were the hobbies and professions drop-downs where he could click on multiple choices. Hobbies? He looked for “working” as one, but they didn’t have that as an option. He made a mental note to have Eddie add that option or at the very least change ‘hobbies’ to ‘what you do in your spare time.’ He chose reading and physical fitness…honestly, he liked everything that was listed and was tempted to click on every hobby there was, but he considered in order to tick it as a hobby, he probably should have at least done it in the past twelve months. So, that left him with reading and physical fitness.

  ATTACHING A PHOTOGRAPH ENSURES BETTER RESULTS.

  Crap. The photograph. He opened another window and searched through some stock images. Michael found a few guys that looked like him, cropped short brown hair, brown eyes and bushy eyebrows, clean shaven, strong jaw and no real defining marks on their faces.

  He downloaded one photo of some handsome devil who resembled him. What made the photo even more perfect was that the guy was photographed with white sandy beaches behind him making it look like a photo someone might snap instead of an expected selfie. Then he cropped, cut and uploaded it to Together. He took his phone and downloaded the app from the cloud and logged in. He’d had the app off and on over the years but it was always a dummy account – usually Eddie showing him a new feature or idea.

  That was fun.

  Regina was right. He never had fun. He never dated. Not lately anyway. When he did date, he had a strict two-date maximum and made sure the women knew up front what they were getting into. Most of the women didn’t care. They wanted to be arm-candy to Michael Vilander. To have their photo taken while on the arm of the CEO of Together was a highly sought after position.

  But lately, he hadn’t wanted to date and even if he did, he rarely had the time. He was a workaholic by nature, not knowing when to quit or when to say no. There were always meetings to attend, employees to keep in line, as well as always working on ways to expand Together. Make it better. As a matchmaking company, the bottom line was always figuring out how to increase sign-ups.

  Since Michael was only thirty-three, he imagined he’d work as hard and as long as he could stand, and then retire early if he ever felt the need. A small smile touched his lips, financially speaking he could retire now if he wanted. But he hadn’t conquered the world yet, so where would be the fun in that? The small truth he chose to ignore as he worked on his fake profile was the fact that this was fun because this was the only fun thing he’d done in months.

  If he took the time, he was sure he could remember when and where he had his last round of fun. Surely it’d been with a woman.

  The blue interface of his website brightened, beckoning him to press the “Submit” button. He checked and double-checked all the information he typed in —as was his habit—and hit the little blue button.

  No turning back.

  He sat back in his chair and watched the cursor load his information into Together’s database. He could picture the workflow as the database searched for potential matches based upon his likes and other data he entered, cross-referenced with various factors the company had researched and were continuously researching. Next, his data and picture would be sent to women who were looking for a guy like him.

  His picture would pop up onto their screen on the right-hand side and the ladies would have the option of saving his profile as a potential to look at later or hitting DECLINE, thus forgetting him completely. The first impressions were of the judging-a-book-by-its-cover variety. If they liked his picture and a few hobbies the system listed, they could click and delve further. If they declined the potential match, the database wouldn’t post his profile onto their potentials list again. There was also a “Chat: Now Online” feature highlighted in green indicating the potential match was currently logged in to the system and perusing the website.

  Michael’s potentials column filled up quickly and he wondered how often women used a fake photograph themselves. Or at least something woefully out of date. Did they have to take fifty selfies before they found the perfect image? Most of the women that came up were decent looking enough. Not bombshells but not dogs either. The green chat icon blinked at him with a few candidates but none of them appealed to him. At least not enough to chat.

  He scrolled through the list of potentials, clicking on some to save and others to decline. When his eyes began to blur, he glanced at his watch. Eight forty-eight. Wow. He couldn’t believe he’d sat there so long going through potential candidates. He was becoming slightly annoyed and defeated that all his efforts were in vain. How long did it take to get one lousy date?

  There was no way he could sit here looking for a potential wife, which was exactly what some of Together’s clients hoped for and something Together whole-heartedly pushed. After all, what was a matchmaking company if there couldn’t be a happy ending involved? He really couldn’t imagine staring at the small screen on his phone for that long.

  The fact that this was what he created, and he found it so time-consuming, had him rethinking the entire process. It always sounded good in the boardroom but until it was used in its entirety, it could be hit or miss. How many employees of Together had ever sat down and created a profile honestly looking for a match? They ran tests, of course, where they created dummy profiles and watched how the process went down. But after tonight, he wanted to know who really signed up and went through the whole process.

  He sent out a quick email to his management staff calling a meeting first thing in the morning. Of course, he couldn’t admit he figured this out because he signed up for Together, but he would have plenty of time to make up a story by then.

  Ready to call it a night, Michael clicked back to the website and found her amidst the pile of slush.

  And slush she was not.

  Her light-brown hair sparkled in the sun, her full smile and straight white teeth had him settling into his office chair, smiling back. He clicked on her profile, hoping she had been willing to put up more than the one recommended photo.

  He hit pay-dirt.

  The woman was absolutely exquisite. She was a classic beauty with honey-colored hair, minimal make-up and clothes that weren’t too showy or sleazy – a summer dress that ran a respectable length to her knees with a V-neck top that in no way hinted at naughtiness. She had a welcoming look about her that screamed wholesome, and had Michael leaning forward in his chair trying to capture a better glimpse, trying to learn more about her.

  Although she was young—college-aged, if he had to guess—he marveled at the many photos of her. There was a photo of her reading in a white knit sweater and jeans, glancing up from a copy of Gone with the Wind. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was wearing purple square-lens glasses. Awfully fucking sexy. In another, she was in a crazy-ass yoga pose, which he was certain any man could appreciate, including himself. The last photo was of her in a kitchen. She sat at a table wearing a red apron, with a different colored pair of glasses, and was surrounded by sugar cookies that were frosted to perfection. Maybe she was a baker.

  Her name was Sophia Baldwin. He’d guessed right, she was a little young at twenty-four years old. But for one night that didn’t bother him if she was mature enough to handle the event and handle having him at her side. She listed the obvious items, based on her photos, that were her hobbies: reading, baking and cooking, yoga, and in the ‘other’ box, she had written, “so many more things I can’t list them all in this little space.”

  His laughter filled the quiet of his office. Another siren blared below mingling with random cars honking their horns. Okay, Sophia, maybe the powers that be can change the form and make it a little longer for you to list all your interests. She was five feet eight inches tall and claimed to weigh one hundred and forty pounds.

  His cell phone rang, bringing him out of his fun zone.

  “This is Michael.”

  “Are you planning on working all night?”

  “No, Mom.” He let out a sigh
that she’d hit the nail on the head, but it didn’t stop him from asking, “How did you know I was even here?”

  “I know you, honey. You don’t think a mother knows her son? Give me a little credit.”

  “What’s going on? You’re not calling to remind me about the gala, are you?”

  “I know you contribute a lot of money to it every year and you wouldn’t forget it.”

  “Sure you did, Ma. If that’s not why you’re calling, then why are you calling?” He stood from his desk and walked to the bank of windows. “You’re being too quiet. What’s going on? Tell me, Ma.” She was acting cagey, but he forced himself to stand still until she spoke again.

  “Look there’s no easy way to say this…”

  “Spit it out.”

  “Mindy’s here and she’ll be at the gala.”

  Suddenly restless, he began to pace. “Why?”

  “I don’t know, Michael. All I know is she is here and she’s attending the gala with her parents.”

  “Shit.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” she said.

  “Is she alone?” Married? Single? Why were those the things he wanted to know? Why did he care?

  “I’m not sure,” his mom answered. “Just ignore her, okay? You have no reason to talk to her. She hurt you, Michael. Don’t give her the satisfaction of hurting you anymore.”

  He growled. “I won’t. I’m bringing a date.” Way to go, lying to your mother now.

  He cringed when he heard the smile in her voice. “Oh, that’s fantastic. Who is she? More importantly, will she keep Mindy away from you?”

  “Of course. You’ll meet her at the gala. Thanks for giving me a heads up about Mindy. Look, I gotta run. See you Friday.”

  “Don’t be late, Michael. This event is too important to your father and I. See you Friday.”

  He ended the call with his mother and stopped in front of his office windows. Downtown was lit up as usual, and he hated the thought that Mindy was out there somewhere. She was the last person he wanted to see, let alone think about. He hadn’t seen her since she was literally running from him as he stood at the altar. Her bridal dress was the one thing he could remember with clarity to this day. The way it fluttered along, picking up momentum as she ran down the aisle. A beautiful white cloth blowing in the breeze, carrying his heart with it. An old ache thumped in his chest at the memory, and he tamped it down. He was not dealing with that shit.

  He contemplated how important it was for him to attend the gala. How bad it would be to miss it. How disappointed his parents would be. He poured a scotch from the in-office bar and swallowed the liquid quickly. It burned, but felt good. He could miss the gala and his mind was already thinking of excuses when he went back to his computer to shut it down for the night, but deep down, knew he wouldn’t disappoint his parents by not going.

  On his computer screen, Sophia Baldwin smiled at him, tempting him to join her in a field full of wildflowers while he teased her with his mouth. The “Chat: Online Now” icon blinked at him, reminding him of those neon lights that blazed outside of old motels.

  He pulled up his chair and hit the icon. The little white box that he’d seen a thousand times, but had never actually used, appeared.

  Estwd5280: Looking to chat?

  He waited a few seconds before she replied.

  ContessaSophia: Sure, Clint. How are you?

  Estwd5280: Doing great. Love the photos you posted. You enjoy baking?

  ContessaSophia: Haha, obviously. You think I just post photos of things I hate?

  He laughed. She sent him a little yellow face with its tongue out.

  Estwd5280: You never know what you might find lurking in the shadows on sites like this.

  ContessaSophia: Is that what you’re doing? Lurking in the shadows? Or pretending to be someone you’re not?

  Michael leaned back in his chair and let out a bark of laughter. Who was this woman that was calling him out so well?

  Estwd5280: Not at all. Tonight though, I’m most interested in you. I see you live in Denver.

  ContessaSophia: All my life. Have you tried that new Thai restaurant by the stadium?

  Estwd5280: Haven’t had time. Heard it’s good.

  ContessaSophia: Delish! Have you seen that new movie with Zac Efron in it? Dying to see it.

  Estwd5280: Haven’t seen it.

  Hell, Michael hadn’t even heard of it. His phone buzzed with an incoming text. Julia, wanting to know if he’d looked over his interview with the Art Foundation before it went online. Almost. Will have it tonight, he typed back, waiting for more questions from Sophia - it was high school all over again and he was really enjoying it.

  ContessaSophia: Better actor – Jack Nicholson or Robert De Niro?

  Estwd5280: Equally great. What about you?

  ContessaSophia: Equally great. I can never figure out how people can choose one over the other.

  He was surprised to find that his cheeks were burning from smiling so much. He was conservative from the get-go with the public because of who he was, but with this woman he felt relaxed. He could be himself without having to uphold his CEO image. Sure, he was that guy. He would always wear that mask, but he was enjoying the newness of no one knowing just how much he liked it – of knowing nothing about the real Michael Vilander. He liked how there weren’t any boundaries where he had to act like the damn boss every second.

  Another text from Julia. You forgot, didn’t you? Did you at least remember you’re meeting next week for the radio? Michael sighed. I remembered. Thank you, Julia. He forced his attention back to Sophia.

  ContessaSophia: How long have you been on Together?

  Estwd5280: Since it began. More of a lurker than a participant.

  Ha. That was the God’s honest truth and Michael felt oddly proud about it.

  ContessaSophia: Me too. A lurker, I mean. Haven’t been on too long. Hard to meet people sometimes.

  Estwd5280: Any luck in the past?

  ContessaSophia: Nothing worth pursuing. What about you?

  Estwd5280: I’ve been too busy lately. You’re an exception.

  She asked the majority of questions while Michael answered and asked her only a handful. Finally, her question was spot on.

  ContessaSophia: Are you a workaholic?

  He chuckled and quickly scrolled up the screen looking at their conversation for the last hour and much to his dismay, all his answers were related to how busy he was or how he hadn’t made the time because he had been working.

  Before he could answer her last question, she pinged with another one.

  ContessaSophia: Don’t answer that. Instead answer me this: Are you at work right now?

  Estwd5280: You got me. I’m at work. I work all the time. What do you do?

  ContessaSophia: If I told you…well, I’d have to kill you.

  She sent him a little yellow face with one eye shut as if she was winking at him.

  Boundaries. Okay, he could let that go, hoping it wasn’t anything that would bite him in the ass later. He wasn’t willing to tell her who he was…yet anyway. He shouldn’t expect her to tell him. He prayed it wasn’t anything ludicrous.

  Estwd5280: Would you be my date for the Denver Art Foundation’s Annual Valentine’s Gala? It’s in two days.

  ContessaSophia: I saw that on your profile. I’d be okay with that.

  Estwd5280: It’s black tie. You have a dress?

  ContessaSophia: I can scrounge one up.

  Another smiley face. This was great! He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do.

  ContessaSophia: Should I just meet you there? When and where? I’ll have to be home by midnight, will that be a problem?

  Estwd5280: Maybe I should call you Cinderella? Midnight is fine. I’ll pick you up. This is a black tie affair. No way are you arriving alone.

  ContessaSophia: Oh. Ok. Soo, I need to give you my address then? I live in an apartment complex. I’ll meet you in the parking lot. I’m not completely comfortable w
ith giving you my exact number.

  Michael laughed. He was happy to hear that. She was, however, going to get in a car with him—a complete stranger—and while he was happy to have a date, he idly wondered if someone would advise her against that decision.

  Estwd5280: Yes. I know that’s a little unnerving giving it out to a stranger online…

  ContessaSophia: It’s okay. I’m fully trained in martial arts and you don’t have a clue whether I’m packing a gun or knife.

  He laughed. This was true. Why should he assume she couldn’t take care of herself?

  Estwd5280: Fair enough, Contessa Sophia. So it’s a date?

  They’d only enjoy each other’s company one night. Nothing more. They chatted a while longer and she made him promise that he would contact her tomorrow and naturally, he agreed. She insisted she had to let him go because she had to get to work. Noting it was already past ten o’clock, he readily obliged and logged off.

  ContessaSophia: Unless you’re using a fake photo, I don’t think there’ll be an issue.

  His cheeks burned from his perma-grin and he rubbed his jawbone. He was confident in his looks and knew, like every other woman, Sophia would find him attractive.

  He figured that was as hard as he was willing to try with the entire situation. He found a woman that was naturally sexy. Chatting with her, he found her to be friendly, humorous and she never pried about his lack of information regarding what he did for a living, who he was and anything more than the basics he gave her about the gala - all of which she could readily access across the internet. It was one of Denver’s biggest events for Valentine’s Day and a great deal of people would be in attendance. He wasn’t too worried about her zeroing in on him specifically.

  At least not until he picked her up.

  He quickly sent Aslan, his driver and part of his security detail, a message that he wanted a background check run on Sophia Baldwin. Outlining that the check needed to be so thorough it included her dress and shoe size, even though she said she had a dress. She may not know who he was exactly, but he was a gentleman and knew how to make a woman feel special. The cocky part of him wished he could be there when she opened the gift.