Matched to Her Rival. Kat Cantrell
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in the world did she have in her system to match that?
Usually she had a pretty good idea who the match would be ahead of time. One of the benefits of administering the profile sessions herself—she knew her clients very well.
A slice of fear ripped through her. What if the program couldn’t find a match? It happened occasionally. The algorithms were so precise that sometimes clients had to wait a few months, until she entered new clients.
Dax would never accept that excuse. He’d call foul and claim victory right then and there. Either he’d crow about proving Elise a sham or worse, claim she’d withheld the name on purpose to avoid the fallout when the match wasn’t the love of his life.
Newly determined, she shut down the almost-naked pictures of Dax and flipped to the profile screen. She flew through the personal information section and consulted her notes before starting on the personality questions.
That went easily, too. In fact, she didn’t even have to glance at the scribbled words in her notebook.
Do you want to be in love? She typed yes. He did, he just hadn’t found the right person yet, or he wouldn’t have agreed to be matched. Plus, she’d watched his face when he described a woman who didn’t care about whatever he hid behind his curtain. That man wanted to connect really, really badly with someone who got him.
How do you sabotage relationships? She snorted and typed “by only dating women he has no chance of falling in love with.”
When she reached the last question, she breathed a sigh of relief. Not so bad. Thank goodness she wouldn’t have to see him again. A quick phone call to set up his first meet with the match and she’d be done with Dax Wakefield.
She hit Save and ran the match algorithm. Results came back instantly. Fantastic. She might even treat herself to half a carton of Chunky Monkey as a reward. She clicked on the pop-up link and Dax’s match was...Elise Arundel.
No! She blinked, but the letters didn’t change.
That was so wrong, she couldn’t even put words together to say how wrong.
She ran the compiler again. Elise Arundel.
Stomach cramping with dread, she vised her temples. That’s what she got for not asking him all the questions. For letting her professional ethics slide away in the wake of the whirlwind named Dax.
He’d think she did it on purpose—because she’d started to fall for his slick charm. If she actually told him she was his match, he’d smirk with that knowing glint in his eyes and...
She’d skewed the results. That had to be it. Talk about your Freudian slipups—she’d been thinking about the almost-kiss and the almost-naked pictures and his laugh and thus answered the questions incorrectly.
Besides, the short, fat girl inside could never be enough to change Dax Wakefield’s mind about love. She had to match him with someone else.
Her fingers shook and she could hardly type, but those answers had to change. He didn’t want to be in love. Total projection on her part to say that he did, exactly as he’d accused her of earlier. She fixed that one, then the next one and eventually worked her way back through the profile
There. She clicked Run and shut her eyes.
This time, the pop-up opened to reveal...Candace Waters.
Perfect. Candy was a gorgeous blonde with a high-school education. Dax would love running intellectual circles around her and Candy liked football. They’d get along famously.
No one ever had to know Elise had nearly screwed up.
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