Harte Strings: The Billionaire Matchmaker, Part Two by Gina Robinson Page B

for me with a bottle opener behind the bar. “Glass?”
    I’d noticed the men drinking directly from the bottle. I held my hand out for it. “No. Thank you.”
    We strolled to the edge of the pool and took a seat with a small table near it where a plate of vol-au-vent sat surrounded by a fan of napkins.
    “You wanted to know about the matchmaking process,” I said, and took a pull of my beer. “It’s simple, really. I get to know you and find out what kind of woman you’re looking for. Then I scour my pool of eligible women, very discriminatingly, looking for someone I think will be a great match for you.
    “I give you her details and you take her out. Or, if you prefer, I set up the first meeting. I can even help you plan it. It’s all part of my job. What I’m paid for. You take her out on your date and see how it goes.”
    He considered that a moment. “If I like her?”
    “You ask her out again and let the relationship proceed naturally.”
    “If I don’t?”
    “I match you up again until we find one you do. I have a large pool of women to draw from.”
    “You don’t always get it right?” He seemed genuinely interested in the answer. His tone was half teasing, half serious.
    “Not always the first time. Matching is intuitive as much as anything. I use the criteria you give me. Sometimes, though, you don’t want what you think you want. And chemistry is unpredictable.”
    He set his bottle on the table and grabbed an appetizer and napkin. “What if I like a match and she isn’t into me?” He seemed a little too casual, like he was facing a fear asking me this. “What if I ask her out again and she turns me down?”
    “Sometimes it’s just a matter of chemistry. She doesn’t feel it and you do. Odd as it is to say, it’s nothing personal. You can’t force chemistry.
    “I sometimes make the analogy of putting together a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. Some of the pieces look like they should fit. You try them. But they don’t. They aren’t a true match, is all. There’s another piece that will fit. You just have to find it, which may take some looking. The fact the first one didn’t doesn’t reflect badly on either the puzzle or the puzzler.”
    He nodded, seeming to like my explanation. “True enough. But how will I know? Some women treat guys like shit. Just stop answering your texts. You get no feedback. Maybe I did something wrong. Maybe there was something I could have done better. Something I could have said. How will I improve?”
    I flashed him my reassuring smile, liking him tremendously. “That’s what I’m here for. After each of the first few dates with the same person, and then periodically after that, I follow up with both parties to see how the date went. And later, how the relationship is going. If I get constructive feedback, I pass it along. If I see a pattern of behavior that isn’t helping your cause, we’ll work on correcting it before your next match.”
    He was quiet, thinking. “So you’re as much our dating coach as anything?”
    I nodded. “Or mentor. Or objective third party. I’m any and all of those things.”
    “Dating postmortem.” He frowned and shifted in his seat. “That’s a lot of pressure.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not smooth with the ladies. That’s why I’m here.”
    I touched his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. When I first started my business, I met all of my clients in a quiet corner of a restaurant. This setting reminded me of those early days. It was the perfect, relaxed way to get started. Thank you, Lazer.
    “From what I can tell so far, you have nothing to worry about. You’re delightful. It might seem intimidating at first,” I said. “It’s hard to hear criticism about anything. Especially about something so personal. Don’t worry. We’ll quickly weed out any annoying habits you might have that turn potential mates off. Most things are minor and easily fixed. Like anything, dating gets easier with