Putting It to the Test

“This isn’t funny,” Carly attempted, her brain going numb from lack of oxygen. A trickle of sweat beaded between her breasts. Why was it so hot in here?

“I think it’s hysterical. You should see yourself—you’re red as a beet. And don’t rip a hole in my chair. We just bought that a few months ago.”

Carly looked down to see her hands clasped tightly to the corners of the vinyl seat cushion. No wonder her fingers ached. Releasing them, she rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans and attempted to brush it all off. These were just answers to a few silly questions.

In fact, this could simply be Matt’s ego talking, a typical man with all bark and no bite, wishful thinking by a guy no better in the sack than half the other men in Marin County. Just because he claimed to have a fetish for kinky sex didn’t mean he knew how to do it.

But you know he does.

She tried to shut out the little voice, the one that reminded her she’d always had that feeling about Matt, that he knew his way around a woman’s body. He hadn’t starred in a few fantasies for nothing. It had always been there, under the surface, the way he carried himself, the way he spoke with easy confidence, that casual calm one only walked around with when he knew he could deliver whatever he was dishing out.

Matt Jacobs would be good in bed, the best she’d ever had. If she’d been clinging to any doubt, these survey answers obliterated that chance. And thanks to it, she’d never be able to look the man in the eye again without choking on her own saliva.

“What about that question on the ideal romantic evening?” Bev asked.

Carly didn’t want to look, now feeling as though she should leave this section alone and concentrate on the rest of the survey. Something told her he’d probably answered enough of the sex questions identically to hers anyway. Plus, she doubted Singles Inc. would even utilize this portion of the survey in their results. Most of the employees had probably skipped the section entirely.

But that didn’t stop her eyes from darting down to the question Bev was referring to, the multiple choice which asked how the person would spend their ideal romantic evening.

He’d picked answer C: take-out dinner, candles and a bubble bath for two.

The exact same answer as hers.

Oh, man, she was a goner.

She tried to answer Bev’s question but couldn’t quite move her lips, and luckily she didn’t have to. Like a knight in shining armor, Bev’s husband, Kurt, stepped into the doorway, shifting the mood in the room and giving Carly a badly needed change of focus.

“I thought that was your car in the driveway.”

She smiled and hoped her red cheeks weren’t as obvious as they felt. “Hi, Kurt!” she squeaked.

His eyes drifted toward his wife. “Cookies for dinner?” he asked, teasing.

Bev smiled wide and motioned to the plate at Carly’s side. “Help yourself.”

“No, thanks.” He rubbed his stomach. “What’s really for dinner? I’m starving.”

Rolling her eyes, Bev pushed up from the chair and made her way toward the door. “Let’s go see what we’ve got,” she said.

And then Carly was alone. Not wanting to interrupt Bev’s and Kurt’s dinner, she opted to skip the rest of the section on sexual habits and preferences and concentrate on the other parts of the survey to get this done as quickly as possible. It shouldn’t take long to go through the answers and sync them up closely enough. If she just focused and hurried through it, she could be out of there in a matter of minutes.

She went back to the top of the survey and began running through Matt’s answers, and it wasn’t long before she noted that, aside from their sexual compatibility, she and Matt Jacobs had absolutely nothing in common. Practically every one of her answers had to be shifted from one end of the spectrum to the other, and Carly realized if she hadn’t acquired his answers, she’d never have come close to being the most compatible.

He’d all but confirmed every impression she’d had of him—his selfish arrogance, his disinterest in others, his insistence in coming first in every aspect of his life. Matt Jacobs clearly cared about one thing and one thing only: Matt Jacobs.

I like helping others. Disagree.

I care what people think of me. Strongly Disagree.

I consider myself more intelligent than most. Agree.

I am attractive. True.

I’ve made sacrifices for my loved ones. False.

It went on and on, question after question painting the picture of the narcissistic, self-serving jerk she always suspected Matt was, and though a small piece of her felt the tug of disappointment, in general the survey brought her a giant breath of relief. Where his answers to the sexual profile had her wondering how she could come near him without tearing off his clothes and doing him on his desktop, the personality profile shriveled up her attraction and left her stale.

In part because she’d seen this man before—the striking good looks, the charming smile, the sultry voice, countered by a complete and total disregard for anyone but himself.

Matt Jacobs seemed to be a carbon copy of her father, and if Carly had one central goal in life, it was to never, ever end up like her mother.

A flood of relief swept through Carly, easing the tension in her neck and leaving her ripe with a giddy sense of elation. She’d caught Matt’s number well before she did something stupid like act on her attraction. She was officially empowered, this survey handing her the emotional tool she needed to focus on the job and forget this latent lust she’d had for the man, kinky sex drive or not. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and unlike her mother, she wasn’t fooled by the disguise nor ignorant enough to believe he could change.

The right man for Carly would be sexy and rugged but also caring and dependable. He’d put his family first, place her needs on the table right next to his and accept a partnership that involved both give and take. And if there was anything this survey screamed loud and clear, it was that Matt Jacobs clearly wasn’t that man.