Blind-Date Baby Read Free Page B

cocktail party repeating itself.
    Okay, the colour of the skimpy dresses and the hair extensions changed. But that was as far as it went. He’d even stopped being surprised how so many stick-thin women professed to love martial arts or were totally fascinated by the cold war. One woman had even spent an hour telling him in great detail exactly how she could strip down an AK47, a hungry glint in her eyes the whole time.
    After all his experiences, he could really write a convincing portrait of a glamour vixen who’d do anything to bag herself a rich and successful husband so she could bask in his glory and ride the celebrity merry-go-round for ever. Maybe he’d put such a character in his next book. And maybe he’d have the merry-go-round explode…
    Compatibility started with sharing some interests, but it had to go deeper than that, surely. And it had to be a genuine interest, not facts and figures cribbed up on before a date. That was why his new pet project had come in handy. He’d read an article about this website in a Sunday magazine and had been intrigued with the possibility of being able to remain almost anonymous.
    He flipped back onto the web page he’d minimised earlier.
    Blinddatebrides.com.
    If Martine, his PA, knew he’d been surfing on such a site, she’d have fainted.
    But what was so surprising about him wanting to find a wife? He was of marriageable age, financially very secure and he had a huge house all to himself. It was just crying out for a wife. And he was fed up going everywhere on his own, being the odd one out at friends’ parties, always having to duck into the bathroom to avoid the glamour vixens at the writing ‘do’s’. Securing a wife would have the added bonus of being the ultimate deterrent.
    He wasn’t asking for the moon. At forty-one, he was old enough not to fall for all that love-at-first-sight, finding-your-soulmate nonsense. He didn’t believe that his soul had another half floating around somewhere, desperately looking to reattach itself. That sounded like a gruesome scene from one of his novels rather than romantic, anyway.
    What he needed was a partner in life. Writing could be a lonely business. He spent days on end on his own, not speaking to anyone, travelling alone. It would be nice to have someone other than a part-time PA in the house. Someone to share a meal and glass of wine with at the end of the day. Someone to bounce ideas off or moan to about the latest deadline. And, if there was a little chemistry there, so much the better.
    He’d been on three dates with Blinddatebrides.com so far and all had been unmitigated disasters. The women had been nice in their own way, he supposed, just not suitable at all. He was on the verge of downgrading his expectations in the short-term and just looking for a date-buddy, someone who wouldn’t mind attending functions with him to keep the vixens at bay. Even the stupid computer at Blinddatebrides.com—or the trained hamsters, or whatever they used to match people up—should be able to cope with something as simple as that.
    Although the match suggestions from Blinddatebrides.com had seemed fine when he’d checked out the profiles, when he’d met the women in person…well, that was where it had all gone wrong.
    Hopefully, tonight’s choice would buck the trend. He leaned forward to focus on the pixelated little picture on her profile. Local businesswoman. Age forty. And the picture was intriguing. Dark glossy hair. Stunning blue eyes and the smallest of smiles that hinted at both intelligence and mischief. Not his usual sort, but he’d kept coming back to this profile even after he’d discounted it. And if there was one thing he’d learned from all these years accessing his creativeright brain, it was that sometimes you had to ignore the facts and go with your gut.
    ‘Coo-ee!’ Martine’s voice echoed round his empty kitchen. She’d obviously just let herself in. He reached for the mouse and had just closed