Dream Date with the Millionaire

CHAPTER THREE

BRYCE watched Sanfrandani tug surreptitiously on the waistband of her baggy sweats and bit back a smile. Nice hips. But the clothes… She looked like a kid who’d dressed with her eyes closed or a coed slumming in her boyfriend’s clothes.

Obviously she didn’t care what kind of impression she made on him.

He could find her confidence attractive.

Or insulting.

“What will you have?” she asked, standing in line to order.

“Two shots Americano.”

She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head to read the menu. “Breakfast?”

“No, thanks.”

She turned her head. “Sure?”

He stared into her sparkling blue eyes and suddenly wasn’t sure about anything. Where had those beauties come from? “I’m not hungry.”

She stepped up to the counter to order. “A two shot Americano, a white mocha and one lemon-poppy seed waffle.”

Bryce pulled out his wallet as the barista, a young man with pierced ears and a tattoo on his forearm, pulled the shots.

Sanfrandani handed the bright-eyed girl behind the counter a twenty. “My treat, remember.”

Confident, he thought again. And it was attractive.

“You pay,” he said. “I’ll carry.”

A beat passed. And another. “Fine with me.”

As she put her change into her wallet, Bryce gave her the once-over. Okay, all was not lost. He could see raw material there, hidden under the bulky sweats. With those pretty baby blues and full lips most women would pay big bucks to have, Sanfrandani wasn’t so bad.

She raised an eyebrow. “See something you like after all?”

Bryce broke into a reluctant grin. “I’ll stick to coffee.”

“Suit yourself.”

He picked up their drinks from the counter, followed her past a leather couch to their table against the wall.

Sitting across from him, she took a sip of her white mocha and licked foam off her upper lip. “Just what I needed.”

A strand of blond hair had fallen out of her braid and threatened to slip into her drink. Without thinking, he reached forward and tucked it behind her ear. Her hair was smooth, her cheek warm.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Bryce sat back, feeling foolish. “Your hair…it was about to fall into your whipped cream.”

“Oh.” She flushed. “The curse of long hair, I guess.”

“Is that why you wear the bandana?” he asked.

She touched the cloth, as if to remind herself she was still wearing it. The simple gesture reminded him of Caitlin, when she was little and wore a tiara every day.

“I thought you might be some kind of cowgirl or something.”

“Ha-ha. Actually…” she leaned her elbows on the table, cradling her drink in both hands “…I used to work in a stable.”

Bryce studied her oval nails with their pretty pink polish. She didn’t work in a stable now. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s not that exciting.” She smiled and took another sip from her mug. “My mother works on a farm in central California. I mucked stables there and at a couple of ranches to earn money. I used bandanas to keep my hair out of the way. They also work well as sweat rags and, if you wet them, neck coolers when it’s hot outside.”

His family had horses—Caitlin wanted to start riding competitively again. He knew what the work involved and was impressed. “That’s a hard way to earn money.”

“Yes, but it was worth it. Not only did I get stronger cleaning stalls, but I got to exercise the horses when their owners couldn’t.” The words almost tumbled from her mouth with excitement. Her face became animated, but she seemed to catch herself and calm down. She raised her cup. “So now you know where my attachment to bandanas comes from.”

“A worthy attachment, I’d say.” His respect for her grew. He recalled her picture. The shadows. Her red face. Something clicked for him. “The photograph in your profile. Was it taken while you worked at one of the stables?”

She nodded. “I still help out at the farm when I visit my mom. One of my sisters took the picture with her cell phone as a joke.”

Definitely a horse-lover. No one else would offer to help out with that job. But that didn’t explain her using the unflattering picture.

“Why did you use that photo on your profile?” he asked.

She hesitated. “I wanted to make sure men were more interested in who I was as a person rather than my appearance.”

“That makes sense.” So maybe she was on the up-and-up. Caitlin had done the same with her profile picture. “Have you found any guys who passed the test?”

“You’re here.”

In spite of his suspicions, he liked her. “I am.”

A café employee placed a plate and syrup in front of her. “One lemon-poppy waffle.”

Bryce liked that she wasn’t one of those women who lived off salads, rice cakes, nuts and seeds in order to stay a size zero. He also liked her self-confidence. “I’m glad I’m here.”

She spread butter on the waffle. “The bandana didn’t scare you off.”

“It would take more than a bandana to scare me,” he admitted. “Do you wear it every day?”

“No.” She poured syrup on her waffle. “But bandanas come in real handy on those days I’m rushing out the door.”

“Were you rushing this morning?”

She stared down her nose at him. “What do you think?”

That no woman would go to such lengths to look less attractive than she really was. “You were either in a rush or prefer comfort over…”

“Style,” she offered.

He smiled. “You said it, not me.”

The tension seemed to evaporate from around her mouth. “I do like to be comfortable, but I may have taken being comfy to the extreme this morning. Next time I’ll take a little more time getting ready.”

“Next time, huh?” He watched her take a bite of the waffle. A drop of syrup hung on the corner of her lips. Damn, she had a sexy mouth. “So do you do this a lot?”

She wiped the syrup off with a napkin. “Go out for coffee and have breakfast?”

“Online dating.”

“Oh, no.” She stared at her plate, then raised her gaze to his. “You’re my… This is my first time.”

Bryce looked for a sign she might be lying. But she was making eye contact. Her voice pitch hadn’t changed. She wasn’t fidgeting or blinking. Then again, she might just be a good actress.

He picked up his coffee. “What do you think?”

“Well, so far so good,” she said. “The mocha is delicious, the food tasty. Ask me again when we’re finished, and I’ll tell you how the company was.”

Bryce might not trust her, but she was bright and had a sense of humor. He was enjoying this. Her. He sure hoped Sanfrandani wasn’t guilty of anything. “I will.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Do you rush getting ready in the morning or take your time?”

He sipped his drink. Strong and hot, the way he liked his coffee. “I’m a guy. Once we’re out of high school, it’s pretty much shower and go.”

“Mm.” She looked him over, taking her time but keeping her opinion to herself. “Well, at least no one could accuse you of being metro.”

“Thank you.” The amusement in her eyes brought a smile to his face. “I think.”

“So I’m a newbie at this online dating thing. What about you?” she asked. “Have you gone on a lot of dates with people you met through Blinddatebrides.com?”

“Not a lot, much to the chagrin of my mother and sister.”

“Why is that?” she asked.

“Both of them think it’s time I settle down.”

Dani raised her mug. “Do you think it’s time to settle down?”

“No.” Bryce found her easy to talk to. Strange, considering his reasons for wanting to meet her. “But my opinion doesn’t matter much where my mother is concerned. She has been lecturing me about being over thirty and single. She wants grandchildren to spoil. My sister, who is a member of the site, has jumped on my mother’s bandwagon and sends me links to the profiles of women she thinks I should contact.”

“Your younger sister, right?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Your user name is Bigbrother.”

He nodded. “Caitlin picked the name for me.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“She’s a sweet girl. Woman,” he corrected. “Sometimes I forget she’s all grown up.”

“And how does she feel about that?”

“She thinks I’m overprotective. Overbearing and a bully, too.”

Sanfrandani’s smile lit up her face. “The two of you are close.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yeah, but Caitlin drove me crazy when we were kids. Following me everywhere. I wanted to trade her in for a brother, but I couldn’t help but watch out for her back then, too.”

“That sounds so familiar. I watched out for my three little sisters, even though there were days I wanted to kill them. But I knew if I did that it would destroy my mother so I controlled myself.”

He grinned. “I’m sure three younger sisters were much worse than one.”

“Especially trying to get ready for school with only one bathroom for the four of us.”

“Catfights?”

“Every day.” She laughed. “How about with your sister?”

“She’s one of my best friends, even though I still watch out for her.”

“Lucky girl.”

“She might disagree about that.” Though Caitlin’s luck had changed for the better. Contentment settled in the center of Bryce’s chest. “She recently got engaged to a man she met on Blinddatebrides.com.”

“That’s exciting news.”

“Very.” He smiled, thinking about Caitlin, all bubbly and glowing, showing off her diamond engagement ring. She’d thanked him for creating the Web site where she’d met her fiancé. That moment had made all his work, the sleepless nights and constant fires needing dousing, worth it. “My sister and her fiancé prove the matchmaking algorithm works, since that’s how they found each other.”

Sanfrandani set her fork on the plate. “You believe the algorithm actually works?”

He understood the doubt in her voice. Turning matters of the heart over to a machine wasn’t easy. “I do. Relying on the program is the easiest and smartest way to find a compatible date.”

“It’s difficult for me to accept a computer could do a better job picking a date for me than I could.”

“Is that why you haven’t gone out with anyone before?” he asked.

“It didn’t seem right.”

Her response set off warning bells in Bryce’s head. “Right?”

“The right time,” she clarified. “But the compatibility program did work for a friend of mine who lives in London. They are married and expecting a baby.”

“I’ll have to tell my sister. She wants everyone to be as happy as she is.”

“I have two friends like that. The one with the baby on the way and another who is engaged. I met both on the Web site,” Sanfrandani said. “They’re always pushing me to go out more. They mean well, but the…”

“Pressure.”

“Exactly.” She drank her coffee, seeming completely at ease. “Luckily, my mother doesn’t care if I get married or not.”

“She’s not on the grandma track, then.”

“Not at all. The only thing she wants is for me and my three sisters to pursue our passions and follow our dreams, whatever they may be.”

Bryce wondered what her dreams entailed. “She sounds like a great mom.”

“My mom’s the best. My hero.” Sanfrandani’s eyes softened, as did the tone of her voice. “She raised us on her own. We didn’t always have a place to sleep at night, but we always had food to eat and we knew we were loved. No matter what was going on, there was always more than enough love.”

Her words squeezed Bryce’s heart. No place to sleep sounded like she’d been homeless at times. No one should have to go through that, especially an innocent child. Maybe her background explained the way she acted and her ambivalence about dressing nice for their date.

He thought about his silver spoon upbringing—the overabundance of toys and clothes, the mansion and vacation homes, the revolving door of stepparents and the trust fund he’d never touched. His parents loved him, but they were so busy with their own lives and marriages, they’d often left him and Caitlin in the care of nannies. He couldn’t say more than enough love existed at his house. Houses. “Sounds like you still had everything you needed in spite of the tough times.”

“I didn’t think so then, but growing up like that made me stronger, more determined.”

“To do what?”

“Succeed. Make it on my own. Show the world I’m more than what they think I am.” She raised her chin, then looked down. “Sorry, that probably sounds arrogant.”

“No. Not at all.” Even though the two of them came from different worlds, Bryce understood because he felt the same way. That was why he’d taken a job as a Web developer. He’d wanted to make it on his own terms. Not live off the rewards of his great-grandfather’s real estate foresight over a hundred years ago. “It’s important to make it on your own, especially if people said you couldn’t.”

She reached across the table and touched his hand. “You get it.”

He nodded, trying not to stare at her hand. Dani’s gesture was friendly, not sexual, but he enjoyed the feel of her soft skin against his. She pulled her hand back. He missed her warmth.

“I want to buy my mom a house. Nothing fancy, maybe a white picket fence. Just someplace that belongs to her. We never really had that. A home of our own.”

“A worthy goal.”

She nodded. “Something to work toward, that’s for sure.”

Sanfrandani seemed nice. She was close to her family, funny and intelligent. A guy could do a lot worse. But he couldn’t forget why he was here.

I’m a spy.

Bryce straightened. He needed to figure out what she’d meant by that. Spying didn’t always mean espionage. She might have joined the site to spy on a crush, a boyfriend or an ex.

“Why haven’t you gone on more dates?” He wanted some answers. “Did you try using the compatibility matching program? The questionnaire seems thorough enough.”

“Oh, it was thorough all right.” Her mouth quirked. “That stupid thing took forever to fill out, with all its nitpicky and redundant questions.”

He’d heard the criticism before, but the questionnaire was far from stupid. “The time you spend pays out in the end.”

“Let’s be real.” She leaned toward him. “How do you know someone else is going to fill it out as carefully as you did? They might choose an answer they think someone might want to hear.”

“That’s built into the algorithm and the reason for so many questions, even redundant ones. To get to the bottom of what a person needs in a relationship and a mate. Not what they think they need.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.”

“I work with computers,” he admitted, waiting for questions to follow. So many people worked with computers in the Bay Area, yet some women wanted to know more—where do you work, what’s your title, do you get stock options?—in order to gauge future earning potential.

“Poor you.” She poked her fork into her waffle and swallowed a bite.

Was Sanfrandani really disinterested in him or playing hard to get? Maybe she was just hungry. That waffle looked good.

“I like computers,” he said. “And with anything Internet based, there’s an element of trust involved.”

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