Ms. Match Read Free Page A

big dance floor. In their day they had been extraordinary dancers, winners of all kinds of prizes. When they got into the groove, they could outlast a lot of younger couples.
    Gwen glanced at Paul as they made their way to the grand ballroom. He wore his tuxedo the way some men wear Levi’s, as if it was the first thing he’d grab in the event of a fire.
    Everything about him was the kind of slick you had to look for. So subtle that the signs of effort could easily be missed. His nails had been buffed, though not excessively so. His hair was perfectly mussed as if he’d just rolled out of a movie bed. Not a real bed, because that would be too risky, plus there was the whole eye-gunk and bad breath thing to deal with. No, Paul looked like a big-screen leading man.
    Seconds before they reached the entrance, Gwen thought about stepping closer to him, making sure her family and their friends would know that he was with her. The thought brought a wry grin to her face which she hoped Paul didn’t see, or wouldn’t know how to interpret.
    She kept the same distance from him as they rounded the door, then felt his open palm on the small of her back.
    Startled, she looked up at him. He smiled and gave her a wink, which would have been delightful if the underlying reason for his attention hadn’t been pity. Despite those momentary urges to thumb her nose at her family, this was not the way she wanted to play. The game itself made her ashamed of her entire brood, and herself. She stepped away, dislodging his hand and any notion he might have harbored that she needed rescuing.
    Paul took the rejection in stride, his seductive smile not faltering. It occurred to Gwen that the seduction was all part of his package. His personal autosetting. Seduce and conquer. Of course he was successful. He’d been born for his work.
    “Gwen?”
    She slowed at the sound of her sister’s voice. Faith. Six years older than Gwen, Faith was a buyer for Neiman Marcus. Her fiancé, Bret, standing at her side, was also a buyer. The two of them were a match made in heaven. Between them, they almost had a whole brain. “Yes, Faith, it’s me. Gwen.”
    “And who’s this?” Faith eyed Paul as if he were a hot new designer jacket. Her whole face lit up with curiosity, which naturally made her even more beautiful. Her sisters, all five of them, had been models at some time during their lives. Despite the fact that Faith was thirty-four, she still fielded offers from photographers.
    “Paul Bennet, my sister, Faith.”
    Paul bowed his head which made Faith sigh before she looked back at Gwen. “You must give me the name of the escort service. Not for me, naturally, but I know a lot of women…Anyway, it’s lovely to meet you.”
    Gwen’s gaze shifted to Paul, catching the tail end of his shock. He regained his aplomb quickly.
    “I see the bar.” He nodded toward the side of the room and completely ignored Faith and her idiotic statement. “Shall we get a drink?”
    “I’d like that.” Gwen took his arm and they headed deeper into enemy territory. She thought about apologizing for Faith, but if she started down that road, she’d be apologizing the whole night. Screw it. She’d have a drink, see Paul off, then call a cab. It would be over before she knew it, and she could forget all this nonsense.
    The orchestra was fabulous. The music was all the stuff she’d grown up with. Swing, mostly, with some old standards thrown in for downtimes. She hadn’t spotted her parents yet, but there was Danny and his wife, Sandy. And her sisters, Bethany and Eve.
    Paul slowed as they reached the end of the line for the bar. “What would you like?”
    “Gin and tonic, please.”
    “No champagne?”
    “Nope. To get through this night I need major fortification. In fact, make that a double.”
    “Sounds very wise,” he said. “So how many of them are out there?”
    She knew without asking exactly what he was talking about. “All six. Plus six