The Matchmaking Machine

He’d been intrigued by her from the moment he’d first seen her. And she really did think he was the plumber, which meant the interest he could see in her eyes was for him and not his money. The knowledge sent a fizz of anticipation zinging through his bloodstream—an anticipation vaguely tinged with worry as he remembered her very unflattering opinion of him. Would that spark of interest die when she found out who he really was? And she would have to find out. Once he showed up at the office on Monday, everyone would be jostling for a glimpse of their new boss. But that was Monday, and this was Friday.

Richard wanted the chance to get to know Maggie better. Much better.

Dear Reader,

Icy winds and fierce snowstorms have nothing on this month’s heroines who all seem to have a score to settle. And you know the old line about hell having no fury like a woman scorned—well, grab a hot drink and a comfortable chair and watch what happens when these women dole out their best shots!

Alice Sharpe leads off the month with the final installment in the PERPETUALLY YOURS trilogy. In A Tail of Love (#1806), it takes one determined wire fox terrier to convince his stubborn mistress to stay with the man she left two years ago. Ever since the big man on campus jilted her in high school, a former plain Jane has wanted revenge…and now his return, her transformation and a bachelor auction provide the perfect opportunity in Teresa Southwick’s In Good Company (#1807)—the second book in her BUY-A-GUY miniseries. Realizing her groom will always put his work first, a runaway bride heads for the mountains and lands on the doorstep of a man who could give her the storybook ending she craves, in Carol Grace’s Snow White Bride(#1808), part of her charming FAIRY-TALE BRIDES series. Finally, a computer programmer devises the perfect matchmaking program to exact revenge on her new boss, but she quickly finds that even the best-laid computer program can’t account for human attraction, in Judith McWilliams’s scintillating romance, The Matchmaking Machine(#1809).

Happy reading.

Ann Leslie Tuttle

Associate Senior Editor

The Matchmaking Machine

Judith McWilliams

Books by Judith McWilliams

Silhouette Romance

Gift of the Gods #479

The Summer Proposal #1562

Her Secret Children #1648

Did You Say…Wife? #1681

Dr. Charming #1721

The Matchmaking Machine #1809

Silhouette Desire

Reluctant Partners #441

A Perfect Season #545

That’s My Baby #597

Anything’s Possible! #911

The Man from Atlantis #954

Instant Husband #1001

Practice Husband #1062

Another Man’s Baby #1095

The Boss, the Beauty and the Bargain #1122

The Sheik’s Secret #1228

JUDITH McWILLIAMS

began to enjoy romances while in search of the proverbial “happily-ever-after.” But she always found herself rewriting the endings, and eventually the beginnings of the books she read. Then her husband finally suggested that she write novels of her own, and she’s been doing it ever since.

An ex-teacher with four children, Judith has traveled the country extensively with her husband and has been greatly influenced by those experiences. While not tending the garden or caring for her family, Judith does what she enjoys most—writing. She has also written under the name of Charlotte Hines.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Chapter One

She was going to teach John Worthington a long-overdue lesson in humility if it was the last thing she ever did, Maggie Romer told herself as she nervously tightened her grip on the thick manila envelope she was carrying. Taking a deep breath, she punched in the security code she’d been given to get into Worthington’s apartment building. The oversized glass doors obediently slid open.

Maggie stepped into the spacious lobby and looked around, trying to ignore her feeling of inferiority in the face of such opulent luxury. She was no longer an unwanted foster kid on the outside looking in, she reminded herself. These days, she was a well-paid, highly trained computer professional.

She was also a woman on a mission. Her soft pink lips tightened as an image of Sam Moore’s haggard features popped into her mind. According to his wife, he was so depressed that he just sat around all day, staring at the wall.

Sam might be powerless, but she wasn’t, and she was determined to get revenge for him. No, not revenge. Justice.

Justice was everyone’s right. Worthington might be the company’s new owner, but that didn’t give him the right to summarily fire Sam and then refuse to give him a reference. What Worthington had done was unconscionable. Sam was great at what he did. Not only that, but he was super to work for. She didn’t know a single person in the entire company who had a bad word to say about him—man or woman. Yet Worthington had dismissed him without even so much as a reference. And without a reference and an explanation for the firing, potential employers would assume that Sam was incompetent and had only held his job as president because he was the old owner’s son-in-law. The entire office was in agreement that Worthington deserved to be called to account for his actions.

In fact, Emily, Sam’s former secretary, hated John Worthington so much she hadn’t even been willing to deliver an important report to his empty apartment, despite the fact that he wasn’t due to arrive from California until later tonight.

When Maggie had heard Emily vilifying Worthington in the lunchroom, she immediately volunteered to drop the document off for her. As far as Maggie was concerned, getting access to his apartment was a heaven-sent opportunity to check the place out for clues about his personal likes and dislikes.

Trying to act as if she belonged in this kind of setting, Maggie walked across the lobby toward the sour-faced guard sitting behind a desk near the elevators. He straightened slightly as she approached, and the furtive gleam of sexual desire that lightened his eyes sent a chill of revulsion down her spine. She bit the inside of her lip as she fought her instinctive urge to hunch her shoulders in an attempt to hide her breasts.

“I’m Maggie Romer delivering a package for John Worthington. Emily Adams from Computer Solutions should have already called to tell you I’d be coming,” she told the guard.

“She did. And I told her that I was the only one on and couldn’t leave the desk to go up with you. She said you didn’t need an escort.” He shrugged. “That’s fine by me, but tell her I said if there’s a problem not to come to me about it.”

Maggie nodded and walked into one of the open elevators. Taking out the plastic card Emily had given her that provided access to the penthouse level, Maggie inserted it into the slot in the control panel.

Nothing will go wrong, she told herself, trying to ignore the feeling of impending doom that engulfed her as the elevator doors snapped shut. She’d leave the envelope on his desk in the study as Emily had instructed and then take a quick look around for any information about his personal habits that she could enter into the program she had written about John Worthington.

A sense of satisfaction filled her at the thought of the novel computer application she had come up with in her quest to teach Worthington a lesson. She’d been listening to a couple of her friends talk about their experiences with Internet dating when she suddenly realized that it should be possible to create a program that would tell her exactly what kind of woman John Worthington found attractive. After all, those Internet dating sites found potentially compatible mates all the time. And if she could do that, there was the possibility—even if it was a slim one—that she could turn herself into something close to his idea of perfection and get him to fall for her. Then, once he’d committed himself, she could laugh in his face and walk out, letting him find out what it felt like to be rejected. To be treated as if he were a thing of absolutely no value. Job, be darned.

Even though Maggie had created the program, she knew her plan was a long shot. Still, there were several points in her favor.

For one, Worthington’s electronics empire was headquartered in San Francisco, and, now that his father was semiretired, he spent most of his time there with occasional trips to the company’s offices in the far east. His presence in New York was so rare that there had been speculation in the financial press that his allocation of six whole weeks to oversee the integration of their software company into the parent company meant that Worthington was positioning himself to move into the applications side of computers.

Maggie reasoned that since Worthington was a stranger in town, he wouldn’t know anyone, and since he wasn’t planning on staying, he probably wouldn’t bother with the local social scene. That would drastically limit the number of women competing with her for his attention.

Second, as a key member of his staff, she would see him at the office on a regular basis. The opportunity was definitely there if she could take advantage of it. She’d considered the possibility that he might not be willing to date an employee, but she quickly pushed that aside. Interoffice dating was more common than companies liked to admit, and when he saw that she was the woman of his dreams, how could be resist?

Once her program had spelled out what his ideal woman looked like, Maggie had completely revamped her image to conform to it as closely as possible. Her plain brown hair now sported reddish highlights and fell to her shoulders in a sexy tumble of loose curls, and her pleasing, if unspectacular, features were enhanced by the best makeup money could buy. As for her clothes…

She winced slightly as she caught sight of herself in the mirrors that lined three of the four elevator walls. She’d started wearing her new wardrobe two weeks ago so that all the surprised comments from colleagues about her wearing something other than her usual nondescript suits and comfortable sweaters would be over before Worthington arrived in town.

Unfortunately, she’d discovered that two weeks wasn’t long enough for her to feel comfortable with her new image. She shifted uncomfortably as she studied the way her black slacks clung to her slender hips before faithfully outlining her long, slim legs. A lifetime might not be enough, she conceded.

The elevator came to a smooth stop on the top floor and the doors opened onto a discreetly lighted foyer carpeted in a soft dove-gray. There was a real floral arrangement sitting on a gilt table beside the door to the penthouse apartment.

Maggie straightened her shoulders, trying to ignore the way her action tightened her black silk shirt over her small, high breasts. She was determined to teach Worthington a lesson, and if dressing sexier was what it took, then that’s what she’d do.

With anticipation, Maggie took out the key to Worthington’s apartment Emily had given her. Unlocking the door, she slipped inside.

A soundless whistle escaped her as she took in the wall of glass in the living room that gave her a panoramic view of Central Park twenty stories below. Money might not buy happiness, but it sure could buy beautiful surroundings, she thought. The room looked like something out of a decorating book for the seriously rich.

John Worthington certainly believed in pampering himself, although…

Maggie frowned slightly as she took in the chintz prints on the sofas and overstuffed chairs. From the extensive research she’d already done on him, she would have guessed that his taste in furniture leaned more toward priceless antiques. This room seemed out of character with the image of him on her program. Maybe the taste reflected here wasn’t Worthington’s.

She knew from what Emily had said that Worthington hated living in hotels and one of the first things his advanceman, Daniel Romanos, had done when he’d arrived in town last week had been to lease his boss this apartment. Maybe Romanos had leased it furnished?

Hmm…What now? Did she enter a liking for chintz and English country into her program or put in that Worthington was adaptable enough to live with decor not to his taste? She didn’t know which was more accurate, but of one thing she was certain: the program was becoming a lot more complicated than she’d originally anticipated. The variables seemed both endless and endlessly fascinating.

Maggie walked farther into the room, wondering if any of Worthington’s personal effects had arrived yet. According to Emily, his flight wasn’t due to arrive until after midnight, but he could have shipped some of his stuff along with Daniel Romanos.

She reached down to open the drawer in the end table beside one of the sofas when she heard a loud clanging sound coming from down the hallway to her left. A shiver ran down her spine and she automatically took a step back toward the front door before common sense told her that it couldn’t be a burglar. For one thing, it was too hard to get into the building. For another, one of the first requirements of burglarizing would be quietness. And whomever it was had made no attempt to be quiet.

Maybe Worthington had sent his housekeeper from San Francisco ahead to get the place ready for him, she thought in a sudden burst of excitement. A housekeeper who might be able to give her personal facts about him firsthand. So far, all her information about Worthington had been gleaned secondhand from magazine and newspaper articles.

Eagerly, Maggie headed toward the sound. At the very least, she could ask whomever it was where the study was so she could drop off the envelope and do some snooping in his desk drawers.

Maggie quickly located where the noise was coming from. Sticking her head around the half-open door, she peered inside. Her eyes widened when she saw the bottom half of a man sticking out from beneath the bathroom vanity. Her mouth dried and she slowly ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip as her eyes measured the impressive breadth of his chest before wandering down over his flat stomach to linger on the long, lean length of his denim-clad thighs.

I wonder what the rest of him looks like? she thought, suppressing an urge to look under the cabinet and find out. Why had she never found a plumber built like that? Her apartment building was serviced by a surly, middle-aged man with a beer belly who wouldn’t raise a lustful thought in a nymphomaniac, while this guy…

She took a deep, steadying breath as her gaze returned of its own volition to his tight jeans.

“Excuse me,” she began then instinctively jerked back when the man’s body suddenly jackknifed. There was a hollow ringing sound as what she assumed was his head hit something hard under the cabinet.

Maggie barely registered the curse that rolled out from beneath the cabinet. She was far more interested in the deep, dark, velvety tone of his voice. It lapped enticingly against her skin, nudging each and every nerve ending she owned to eager, expectant life. Her breath caught in her lungs in anticipation as the man wiggled out from under the cabinet. A powerful surge of awareness engulfed her as she got her first clear look at him.

The top half of him was even better than the bottom half, she realized in astonishment. His ink-black hair was cut slightly shorter than the present style and disheveled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. She would have expected an olive complexion with hair that dark, but his skin was a pale honey-gold that gave his gray eyes an almost crystalline look. Her gaze slipped down over the thin blade of his nose to land on his wide mouth and all rational thought was suspended as she was instantly consumed by a desire to press her lips to his.

“Are you deaf, as well?” the man bit out.

Maggie opened her mouth to ask as well as what and then thought better of the idea. She didn’t want to start the conversation by trading insults, and she was pretty sure there was one buried in his question.

Ignoring his comment would probably be the quickest way to lower the sudden tension which had sprung up between them, she decided.

“Did you hurt your head?” she tried.

“Yes,” he snapped. “I probably fractured my skull.”

“Nonsense,” Maggie said bracingly. “All you did was smack it on something.”

“That something was a porcelain sink!” He gave her an aggrieved look that made her want to take him in her arms and kiss his ill humor away, something she didn’t recall ever wanting to do with anyone before.

“Sit down.” Maggie gestured toward the vanity seat. “I’ll see how bad it is.”

To her surprise, he obediently sat down and bent his head slightly so she could look.

Maggie set the manila envelope and her purse down on the vanity and tentatively touched his head. Her fingers sank into his silky, dark hair, searching for a lump. His hair was cool on the outside and very warm next to his scalp. It was an intriguing combination. From this close, she could smell the citrusy scent of his cologne.

Maggie swallowed uneasily as a curl of heat tightened in the pit of her stomach, making her feel edgy. Her fingertips began to tingle, and she had to fight the urge to caress the very slight bump she found.

“I think you’ll live.” Her voice came out sounding husky and not at all like her normal, even, no-nonsense tone. How could she be reacting so strongly to some strange man she had chanced upon in a bathroom? She wondered uneasily. She had never been the impulsive type about anything—and that included sexual attraction. Not only that, but she didn’t know the first thing about this guy.

No, that wasn’t quite true, she corrected herself. She actually knew two things about him. She knew he was gorgeous, and she knew he was a plumber.

He might live, but he wouldn’t do it with any degree of comfort in her vicinity, Richard Worthington thought ruefully as he struggled to control his body’s enthusiastic response to her touch. He certainly didn’t want her to realize that he’d taken one look at her and every male hormone he had had kicked into overdrive—at least, not until he figured out who she was and what she was doing in his apartment.

He was positive he’d locked the door behind him, so she had to have had a key to have gotten in. Could she have come from the office of the lawyer who was handling his sublease of the place? One thing was clear: she certainly hadn’t come to steal anything because she had no place to hide it. His gaze lingered on the small expanse of delectable-looking skin between her form-fitting sweater and her pants. The blackness of her outfit highlighted the creamy texture of her perfect skin.

“I’m Richard, and you are…” He held out his hand, seizing the opportunity to touch her.

The woman put her hand in his.

“Maggie. Do you know where the housekeeper is?” she said, looking uncomfortable, as if she wasn’t used to dealing with unknown men.

“What housekeeper?” Richard looked around the spacious bathroom as if he expected to find a strange woman hiding in a corner. “There was no one else here when I arrived earlier.”

“Oh,” Maggie said and glanced down, only to find that she was still holding on to his hand like a lifeline. Appearing to be embarrassed, she dropped it and took a step back. “Tell me, have you seen the study?”

“Why?” he said curiously.

“I’m supposed to put that on the desk in the study.” She nodded toward the manila envelope on the vanity.

“What’s in it?” Richard leaned over and began to search through the toolbox on the floor.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m just the messenger.”

“Here, hold this.” Richard handed her the wrench and went back to rummaging through his tools.

Maggie automatically accepted it, though she seemed to be rather surprised by its weight.

“Open the envelope and see what it is,” Richard ordered, wondering if it was the treasurer’s report that was supposed to have arrived earlier. Straightening out the mess Sam had created was not going to be an easy job—he felt a surge of adrenaline at the thought of the challenge—but it would be worth it. Both he and his father agreed that the company was the perfect vehicle to use to get a foothold in the software applications market.

“Certainly not!” Maggie snapped. “And why are you so interested? Unless you’re an industrial spy?”

With narrowed eyes, she studied his arrested expression. His gray eyes were blank, and his mouth had fallen slightly open, revealing perfect white teeth. Could he actually be such a thing? She wondered uncertainly. On the surface, it seemed like a ludicrous idea because, until Worthington actually arrived, there should have been nothing of any business import in the apartment for him to spy on. He could hardly have known that someone would be coming by with an envelope from the treasurer, could he? She wasn’t sure. The only thing she knew about industrial spying had been learned at the movies, which was hardly a reliable source of information.

“Are you serious?” Richard asked, studying her suspicious face, unable to decide whether to be amused or annoyed. Clearly she had no idea that he owned the company that had hired her messenger firm to deliver the package. Who did she think he was? Her next words answered his question.

“No, not really, but I think you’d better stick to the plumbing you were hired to do.”

Could she really think he was a plumber? He wondered in confusion. Or was this some clever ploy to…To do what? No one knew he was in New York yet except Daniel, and he wouldn’t willingly give anyone the time of day, let alone information about him.

“You’re very loyal to your boss,” he probed as he inched back under the sink.

“No, I’m not,” she said, allowing herself the self-indulgent pleasure of openly eyeing his body while he couldn’t see her. “What I do have is a strongly developed sense of survival. I don’t even want to think about what he’d do if he found out I’d looked at his precious papers!”

“I suppose anyone who operated a messenger service would have to be extra careful about her company’s reputation,” he said. “Hand me the wrench I asked you to hold.” Richard stuck a large hand out from under the sink.

Maggie gave it to him. “I don’t work for a messenger service. I work for a computer firm that was just bought out by a big electronics holding company from California. The son of the owner is coming to town to oversee the takeover, and, from what I’ve seen, he makes Simon Legree look like an advocate for human rights. The person who should have delivered this package was the old president’s secretary, and she flatly refused to even come near this place. That’s how bad Worthington is.”

Richard’s hand stilled as her words sank in. She was referring to him, he realized in shock. But why did she dislike him so much? Unless office gossip was responsible? Rumors did tend to be rife during a takeover.

“What exactly are you doing?” Maggie threw into the silence. She’d much rather talk about Worthington than her problems at work.

“I’m replacing the cold-water pipe to the faucet,” he said, deciding not to tell her who he was just yet.