The Personal Touch

He scanned the room, now curious to know if she was single. There weren’t any family portraits on the antique tabletop, and her ring finger was bare, but that didn’t always mean much.

Had Carmen mentioned anything he’d forgotten?

“What exactly are you hoping to get from me, Mr. Hilton?”

“Clint.”

“Okay, Clint.”

“Well—for a fee, of course—I’d like advice on how I can find a nice man for my mother.”

“I’d be more than happy to meet with your mother.”

“Yeah, well…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I would love for you to meet my mother. The problem is, she’s a little skeptical when it comes to matchmakers.”

“That’s not uncommon. I’m sure if she came to the office and we talked—”

“No, that’s not going to work.”

When she raised a brow, he gave in and told her about Palm Springs and the fight between his mother and Marge. He hadn’t wanted to go there, fearing he’d insult Margot’s profession, but the more he spoke with her, the more he gathered straight talk would get him farther than charm.

“Unfortunately, I think you’re mistaken about what I do here.” She slid a glossy brochure across the table. “I’m a dating counselor. And yes, I do bring couples together, but successful matchmaking isn’t something that can be summed up in a couple tips. Much of what I do is consultative. I know all my clients very well, and while there are a number of indicators that can make two people likely candidates for each other, I ultimately work off instinct. It’s what differentiates my practice from the typical survey-style dating services.”

“I didn’t mean to diminish your profession.”

That pleasant smile returned. “No offense taken. I’m only saying that if you want my help in finding a man for your mother, I’d need to meet her. Anything short of that would just be things like—” she shrugged “—suggesting she try volunteer work, or maybe join a local garden club or a gym that caters to people her age.”

“She’s already done that.”

“Does she belong to a church or synagogue?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that my mother doesn’t get out. It’s that she’s forgotten how to be single. She doesn’t know how to act around men so she comes across flippant and disinterested. And I think she’s a little scared.”

She kept an understanding expression as he explained, and as he talked to her, he began to believe Carmen had been right in sending him here. He liked Margot’s style. Not only did she come across confident and capable, there was something approachable about her that kept him at ease, as though he were talking to a good friend.

A good, sexy friend.

“These issues are very normal for people in your mother’s situation,” she said. “Many of my clients share those same fears.”

“Men my mother’s age?”

“A good percentage of my clients are in her age group, yes.”

Damn, the woman was perfect for him. Carmen was right. Now he only needed to figure a way to make use of her services. He wondered if it was possible to change his mother’s mind about matchmakers. But then he remembered her hour-long rant about Marge and realized it wasn’t going to happen.

“But keep in mind, I can’t help your mother if she isn’t ready to date again,” Margot pointed out.

“I know my mother would be open to dating if she felt more confident with herself. She just needs some help. She needs to brush up on her conversation skills, learn to put out the vibe.”

Margot blinked. “The vibe?”

“Sure, the vibe.” He flashed his favorite half-cocked smile, the one that caught a woman’s attention one hundred percent of the time. And when Margot’s eyelids fluttered in response, his playful side couldn’t help but take the bait.

Holding on to the smile, he lowered his voice and slid his gaze to her lips.

“It’s that unspoken body language that says you’d like to get better acquainted. The look that says you’re intrigued, that maybe sometime before the night is over you’d like to share a drink…or something.”

A heavy swallow slid down her throat and he trailed his eyes lower, down the curve of her neck to the small beaded necklace that hung at her chest. He dotted his gaze over every bead and went on. “It’s an art, you know, letting a person know you’re attracted without saying a word.” He continued down the neckline of her silky white blouse, into the barest hint of cleavage that teased among the ruffles. He lingered there for a pause, letting his mind wander behind the fabric before continuing over her breasts and down her waist. “Some people have mastered it so well they can practically have sex without laying a hand on each other.”

Then he turned his gaze back the way he came, and when it reached her face, he could see the flush in her cheeks had deepened.

Evidently, the look that worked one hundred percent of the time still held its streak.

“Well,” she said with a husky edge that she tried to cough away, “that’s quite a vibe.” She reached for the mug at her side and took a sip. “I’ve got a few clients who could use a look like that.”

“And I’ve got a mother who needs your help. Maybe we could work a trade.”

She blinked back to the moment, though her eyes never left his mouth. “I’m sorry, but as I’ve said I can’t do much without meeting your mother.”

He glanced down at the brochure in front of him. Margot’s list of credentials was long, as were the lengths she went through to make sure her clients were top-notch. She ran background checks, conducted interviews, took references and searched databases he’d never even heard of. Call it instinct. Call it a gut reaction. But he knew without a doubt, Margot was exactly what he needed—someone who understood his mother’s situation and would keep her best interest at heart.

“Then we’ll have to figure out a way for you to meet her.” He leveled his eyes with hers. “Her only problem is with using the services of a matchmaker. She wouldn’t have anything against you personally.”

“I don’t understand.”

Clint didn’t exactly, either. He was thinking out loud, but the more he thought, the more intent he was to get Margot and his mother together.

“Have dinner with us.”

“I won’t lie about my profession if that’s where you’re going.”

“The only thing you need to lie about is the fact that I’ve hired you. We’ll tell her you’re a friend, or—”

“Mr. Hilton, honesty in relationships is one of my core principles.” She flipped the brochure over to show him, and sure enough, there it was right there in big hunter green letters.

“I’m not asking you to date my mother. I’m asking you to get to know her so you can help me find her a man.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off with his ace in the hole that always got him what he wanted.

“I’ll pay you five times your regular fee.”

The argument caught in her throat and she sat with her mouth open. “I’m very expensive.”

“I’m very intent on getting your help.”

She didn’t seem to know what to say to that, so he kept going. “It’s simple. We’re honest about everything. I’m renovating the Fuller building on 6th. Where do you typically have lunch?”

“Capras. It’s an Italian deli—”