Read Online Breaking the Greek's Rules by Anne McAllister - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne McAllister
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you know she’s legitimate? She might be a charlatan—someone hanging out her shingle, looking to make money off poor unsuspecting fools.”
He looked up from the book and raised a brow. “Poor unsuspecting fools … like me?”
Daisy’s cheeks burned. “I didn’t mean that! I never said—” She retreated behind her camera again. “I just meant that not everyone is reliable, honest. Did you get letters of recommendation? What do you know about her background?”
“She has a degree in human relations. She was born and raised in Virginia. She came to the ‘big city’ when she was just out of college. Reminded me a little of you.”
“I’m not from Virginia,” Daisy bit out. “And I don’t have a degree in human relations.”
“So maybe she’s more qualified than you are,” Alex mused, giving her a sly smile.
“Maybe she is. I’ve got enough here. Let’s go back down to your office.” Someplace less intimate. Someplace where she could focus on her work. She didn’t want to hear anything more about his matchmaker.
Alex picked up her camera bag, then started down the stairs again. He glanced back. “I went out with one of her suggestions last night.”
Daisy pasted on a bright smile. “How nice. Maybe you’ll have a wife by Christmas.”
He nodded. “Maybe I will. She’s a stockbroker. Nice enough. Intense, though,” he mused.
Daisy pointed him toward his drafting table. “Put out a drawing and focus,” she directed. She did not intend to get sucked into analyzing his date.
“Too intense for me,” he went on, even as he obediently pulled out a drawing, spread it on the table and stared down at it. “She’d talked nonstop about everything from chandeliers to parakeets to stock options to astronomy.”
“Well, it’s early days yet,” Daisy said briskly. “Maybe the next one will be better.”
If he’d been her client she’d have talked to him about that, tried to learn what he hadn’t liked, what was “too intense.” But she wasn’t finding a wife for Alex Antonides. He was someone else’s problem.
He kept his gaze on the drawing. “Maybe. I’m going out with another one tonight.”
“Another one?” That fast? Where was the “matchmaking” in that? It sounded more like trial and error.
He glanced around. “Amalie—that’s the matchmaker—has got a whole list.”
A list. Daisy wasn’t impressed. “Is she French? Or fake?” she added before she could help herself.
Alex raised a brow. “Her mother’s French. Is that a problem?”
Daisy raised her camera again, refusing to admit she was taking refuge behind it. “Of course not. I just wondered. I suppose she’s introducing you to French women then.” It made sense. He spent a good part of every year in Paris.
“Career women,” Alex corrected. “And I’m not looking for a French one. I live here now.”
That was news. Daisy stayed behind the camera. She kept moving.
Alex picked up the drawing and rolled it up. Whether she was finished or not, it was clear that he was. “She has a list as long as my arm,” he reported. “She said I need options.”
Daisy grunted noncommittedly. She didn’t think much of “options.” But then, when she helped people find the right mate, she was trying to find their soul mate, not a sex partner who was willing to share a mortgage.
“So,” Alex said, “I just have to find the right one.”
Good luck with that
, Daisy thought. But she kept her skepticism to herself. If she expressed it, he’d tell her she should do it herself.
“All done,” she said, and began disassembling her camera and stowing it in her bag. “I’ll get to work editing these early next week. I’m going to be out all day tomorrow, and I’m not working this weekend. If you’ll give me your business card, I’ll email you when I’ve finished. Then you can let me know whether to send you a disk or email you files or send them directly to the magazine.”
Alex fished a card out of
He looked up from the book and raised a brow. “Poor unsuspecting fools … like me?”
Daisy’s cheeks burned. “I didn’t mean that! I never said—” She retreated behind her camera again. “I just meant that not everyone is reliable, honest. Did you get letters of recommendation? What do you know about her background?”
“She has a degree in human relations. She was born and raised in Virginia. She came to the ‘big city’ when she was just out of college. Reminded me a little of you.”
“I’m not from Virginia,” Daisy bit out. “And I don’t have a degree in human relations.”
“So maybe she’s more qualified than you are,” Alex mused, giving her a sly smile.
“Maybe she is. I’ve got enough here. Let’s go back down to your office.” Someplace less intimate. Someplace where she could focus on her work. She didn’t want to hear anything more about his matchmaker.
Alex picked up her camera bag, then started down the stairs again. He glanced back. “I went out with one of her suggestions last night.”
Daisy pasted on a bright smile. “How nice. Maybe you’ll have a wife by Christmas.”
He nodded. “Maybe I will. She’s a stockbroker. Nice enough. Intense, though,” he mused.
Daisy pointed him toward his drafting table. “Put out a drawing and focus,” she directed. She did not intend to get sucked into analyzing his date.
“Too intense for me,” he went on, even as he obediently pulled out a drawing, spread it on the table and stared down at it. “She’d talked nonstop about everything from chandeliers to parakeets to stock options to astronomy.”
“Well, it’s early days yet,” Daisy said briskly. “Maybe the next one will be better.”
If he’d been her client she’d have talked to him about that, tried to learn what he hadn’t liked, what was “too intense.” But she wasn’t finding a wife for Alex Antonides. He was someone else’s problem.
He kept his gaze on the drawing. “Maybe. I’m going out with another one tonight.”
“Another one?” That fast? Where was the “matchmaking” in that? It sounded more like trial and error.
He glanced around. “Amalie—that’s the matchmaker—has got a whole list.”
A list. Daisy wasn’t impressed. “Is she French? Or fake?” she added before she could help herself.
Alex raised a brow. “Her mother’s French. Is that a problem?”
Daisy raised her camera again, refusing to admit she was taking refuge behind it. “Of course not. I just wondered. I suppose she’s introducing you to French women then.” It made sense. He spent a good part of every year in Paris.
“Career women,” Alex corrected. “And I’m not looking for a French one. I live here now.”
That was news. Daisy stayed behind the camera. She kept moving.
Alex picked up the drawing and rolled it up. Whether she was finished or not, it was clear that he was. “She has a list as long as my arm,” he reported. “She said I need options.”
Daisy grunted noncommittedly. She didn’t think much of “options.” But then, when she helped people find the right mate, she was trying to find their soul mate, not a sex partner who was willing to share a mortgage.
“So,” Alex said, “I just have to find the right one.”
Good luck with that
, Daisy thought. But she kept her skepticism to herself. If she expressed it, he’d tell her she should do it herself.
“All done,” she said, and began disassembling her camera and stowing it in her bag. “I’ll get to work editing these early next week. I’m going to be out all day tomorrow, and I’m not working this weekend. If you’ll give me your business card, I’ll email you when I’ve finished. Then you can let me know whether to send you a disk or email you files or send them directly to the magazine.”
Alex fished a card out of
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