Match Point: A Jet City Billionaire Romance (The Billionaire Matchmaker Series Book 5) Read online

  Match Point

  The Billionaire Matchmaker, Five

  Gina Robinson

  Contents

  Copyright

  Has She Met Her Match?

  GinaRobinson.com

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Also by Gina Robinson

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Gina Robinson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Gina Robinson

  http://www.ginarobinson.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Jeff Robinson

  Match Point: The Billionaire Matchmaker 5/Gina Robinson. — 1st ed.

  Has She Met Her Match?

  Matchmaker Ashley Harte has had her hands full trying to find a match for sexy billionaire Lazer Grayson from the start. Now there's an emergency at Pair Us, the matchmaking agency they cofounded. A scandal that could bring everything crashing down and force a showdown between Ashley and Lazer—does he love her or not? Who will win this game of love? Or will everyone lose?

  It's time for the billionaire playboy to make a commitment and declare his perfect match. There's just one problem—Lazer is missing.

  GinaRobinson.com

  Visit ginarobinson.com to sign up for my newsletter. You’ll get exclusive access to new release notifications, series announcements, and more!

  The Billionaire Matchmaker Series

  Part 1—Lazer Focused

  Part 2—Harte Strings

  Part 3—Pair Us

  Part 4—Dating Lazer

  Part 5—Match Point

  The Billionaire Duke Series

  Part 1—The Billionaire Duke

  Part 2—The Duchess Contest

  Part 3—The Temporary Duchess

  Part 4—The American Heir

  The Switched at Marriage Series

  Part 1—A Wedding to Remember

  Part 2—The Virgin Billionaire

  Part 3—To Have and To Hold

  Part 4—From This Day Forward

  Part 5—For Richer, For Richest

  Part 6—In Sickness and In Wealth

  Part 7—To Love and To Cherish

  The Billionaire’s Christmas Vows

  Gina Robinson’s Contemporary New Adult Romance Series

  The Rushed Series

  These standalone romances can be read in any order. But it’s more fun to read them all!

  Book 1—Rushed, Zach and Alexis’ story

  Book 2—Crushed, Dakota and Morgan’s story

  Book 3—Hushed, Seth and Maddie’s story

  The Reckless Series

  Ellie and Logan’s love story begins one hot August night. This series should be read in order.

  Book 1—Reckless Longing

  Book 2—Reckless Secrets

  Book 3—Reckless Together

  Chapter 1

  "Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken."

  —Jane Austen, Emma, 1815

  Ashley Harte

  New Year’s Day, for most people, is a day for resolutions. A day for new beginnings. Contemplation. New promise. Everything fresh. A day off from work. Watching the Rose Parade on TV—usually. Unless it falls on a Sunday, like this year. Then your parade viewing pleasure gets delayed until Monday, January 2nd.

  That was most people. Not matchmakers like me. No, no, no. This was one of our busiest days of the year. One where we called up all of our experience with dating psychology and human behavior. Dialed up our compassion, our calm optimism that there was a match out there for anyone who really wanted one.

  All those clients my matchmakers and I had set up on New Year’s Eve dates—one of the biggest date nights of the year—with their hopeful promise and resolutions to find love in the New Year, calling, panicked, or happy, or desperate. Hungover. Overwrought. Overthinking. Overanalyzing every tiny detail of their date. Was that New Year’s kiss special enough? Had it come quickly enough? Was it obligatory? Perfunctory? Toe curling?

  Had they given in to desire? Why hadn't their special someone rung in the New Year by asking for exclusivity? Or proclaiming their love? Or popping the question? Oh, yeah. Those women who hadn't gotten a ring for Christmas were desperate now.

  Clients wanted advice, wanted hope, wanted reassurance about their New Year's Eve dates. Wanted a postmortem immediately. Clients who hadn't gone to bed yet calling before the sun was up. From Seattle. Because it was later here in New York, right?

  Ah, yeah, there was nothing like a lovelorn, tired, hungover, insecure client first thing in the morning, first thing in the year. It was my job, passion, and calling. None of that made it any easier. I had expected this. And had even managed to sneak in a shower. Though I had put my phone on speaker and coached a client through a crisis while squeezing that shower in.

  I was up, dressed, and had already been on the phone so long that I had come to view it as an appendage. All these lovely matchmaking crises. All this business of love was going to dry up if I didn't get to Seattle and either stop that story or do damage control.

  Resolutions? I only had two—save Pair Us from a PR nightmare and strangle Lazer Grayson. When I finally got in touch with him. Why wasn't he answering his phone? Or replying to texts, emails, or skywriting?

  I glanced at my watch as I tried his cell phone again, ignoring the incoming calls. Noon here in New York. Nine in the morning in Seattle. He should be up by now. Judging by the volume of client calls I was getting, all the rest of Seattle was.

  It was only my stupid fantasyland feelings that had kept me from calling him last night, thinking it could wait until this morning. I hadn't wanted to ruin his sweet gesture of wishing me happy New Year at midnight. And what could be done about this fiasco just after midnight on such a big holiday, anyway? Who would be around to take action for us?

  Clearly, I hadn't been thinking like a billionaire. Or, more accurately, the business partner of a billionaire. People would have jumped to do Lazer's bidding. Even if he had contacted them just after midnight on New Year’s morning. The problem was, I didn't think that way. I wanted people to have time to relax and enjoy life. And to be fair, I'd had my share of fire drills and clients calling mid-date for advice and reassurance. Mr. Glum Gus wanted to know if he should kiss Miss Newly Whitened Teeth at the stroke of midnight. She actually made him smile. But would that be indicating too much commitment and assigning too much seriousness of intent?

  On and on the dating dramas went, ranging from small to significant. I was beat. But satisfied.

  New Year’s was typically one time of year when I reflected on all the happy matches I'd made during the previous year. When I got a moment to breathe, that was. All the happily-in-love people I'd helped.
All the matches going on first or second or third dates for New Year’s Eve that I'd set up. That, of course, I was highly aware of. All those calls.

  All those people overjoyed not to be alone at the end of one year and the start of the next, even if it only turned out to be for one night. All of the promise of those early dates that could bloom into lifetime commitments and more weddings to add to my lifetime achievement total of marriages matched. A busy New Year’s was an indication of a thriving matchmaking business.

  Clearly, others didn't think the same way I did. They were mercilessly plotting their own rise to fame and fortune by destroying the reputation of others. By attacking with their pens while Father Time ruled and us mere mortals could least respond.

  Between work and worry, I hadn't slept a wink. I'd been dying to call Lazer since four or five. Finding time between client calls was a big part of the challenge. Why didn't he pick up?

  There was a time, very recently, in fact, when I would have first accused him of spending the night with a woman. But since we'd opened Pair Us, he was a reformed playboy, only dating the women I matched him with and playing by the dating rules I'd set up for clients. He spent more time with me than anyone…

  Which was what had precipitated this crisis. And had me hoping more than I should have that he hadn't fallen off the wagon.

  As it had all morning, his phone rang and rang and finally went to voicemail. I'd become that crazed woman who hung on forever, refusing to disconnect, not caring if I was interrupting and he was on another line. Maybe he was on another line. I hoped he was talking to some reporter, denying the whole story, and giving someone hell for not checking their facts. On the other hand, I just wanted him to pick up.

  I'd left him more than my share of frantic messages. I'd just have to wait for him to get back to me. In the meantime, I had to deal with the PR mess.

  Personally, I didn't subscribe to the any-press-is-good-press-just-spell-my-name-right philosophy of promotion. Not after all the flack I'd taken when I'd lowered the maximum age requirement for female clients for my Manhattan-based matchmaking agency, Harte Mates. Danika's hit piece had cost me too many clients, too much money, and damaged my sterling reputation too deeply. I was gun-shy now, and not about to take these new accusations lightly or lying down. Or whatever.

  Danika had turned ally now, and warned me on New Year’s Eve, after spending an evening with her journalist friends, about a piece on Lazer, Pair Us, and me that was going to be published on one of the main entertainment sites. A site that was the AP of entertainment blogs. Meaning, all the other sites, and the entertainment news shows, would pick the story up from them. From there it would spread like wildfire. In fact, it already had.

  Despite my best efforts, and an early morning call to the firm that handled PR for Lazer and Pair Us, the story had run. Neither of us had been interviewed. I couldn't speak for Lazer—he wasn't quoted in the article, so I could assume they hadn't reached him either—but I had not been contacted. I called that shoddy journalism. An attempt to create sensationalism.

  Billionaire Lazer Grayson dating anyone more than a few times was nice entertainment and fodder for social media. Dating his matchmaker while pretending to look for a spouse was even juicier. And more damning. Especially given the accompanying pictures. Never in my life would I have thought I'd be a subject of the paparazzi. Well, maybe only in the fantasies where I represented the matchmaking interests of a celebrity or two. But to think someone had been spying on Lazer and me during our innocent post-date postmortems was terrifying and disgusting. The entertainment site must have paid handsomely. There were picture after picture of us hiking, laughing, dining, you name it.

  None of them were compromising, per se. No nudies. No topless photos. No sex tapes. But…

  The pictures were damaging in another way. They could so easily be misconstrued. I mean, the way I was looking at Lazer in some of them. When I thought he wasn't looking, of course. But the stealth photographer had captured those sly looks of love. Maybe the only person I really didn't want to see those photos was Lazer. And what if he had…

  It was no use thinking about that now. On to weightier matters—a person with a camera hiding in the bushes had snapped a photo of a star-struck, widowed matchmaker overawed and in love with her employer. So what? That wasn't exactly the stuff of lawsuits, was it? In fact, it was pretty natural. What did it prove?

  That I wasn't unbiased. That I had a conflict of interest in matching other clients and pool candidates with Lazer. That I was unethical and taking advantage of my position. The article had dutifully mentioned how I'd lowered my upper age limit in Manhattan, and the firestorm that had caused. Because I was a terrible person as well as a selfish matchmaker.

  Character assassination is an abominable profession. Accusation after accusation flew. How Lazer hadn't been smitten with any of the matches I'd made for him enough to take them to the next level. How he'd been "dating" Danika for most of the holiday season, but things had never seemed more than lukewarm between them. It must have been a cover. That I was now using my former nemesis as an ally. Or being blackmailed into giving her opportunities beyond what the other women had.

  It was juicy stuff. A real soap opera.

  I would have felt better if there hadn't been some truth to it. But the slant of the facts was wrong. I was trying to make a point to Lazer about commitment. And wanting what was real. I was giving all the clients a chance with Lazer that they wouldn't have had without me. I knew that sounded petulant, self-serving, and a lot like denial. But it was true.

  Maybe I was deluding myself. Maybe the worst of this was that we had been using Lazer as a carrot all along.

  The sad thing was we weren't dating. But the truth of it was that whether we were officially dating or not, I was in love with him. Against my better judgment. Against all rational logic.

  As careful as I thought I'd been in holding my feelings in and not letting them show, some of them had slipped out right into the photos of a sneaky photographer.

  I raced to the airport. I had to get back to Seattle and do damage control.

  Usually New Year’s Day would have given us a reprieve, a stay of execution, time to try to stop the story. All of the bowl games and the parade would take center stage. But not this New Year’s. All of those distractions were scheduled for tomorrow. Today was a slow news day. Fortunately for the world at large. Not so much for Pair Us.

  Before I left my apartment, I called Callie at Lazer’s PR firm for an update.

  "No word from Lazer," she said. "Fortunately, we have standing orders to take over his social media accounts in an emergency like this, where we can't reach him. Emergency preparedness and contingency plans are key in this industry.

  "As his agent, we're responding via his social media accounts. We're staying as vague as possible. Lazer likes to laugh things off, so we're keeping things light and as playful as possible. His fans and followers love that. We've adopted a flirty tone that's characteristic of him."

  "Good," I said, wondering why I'd never really bothered to explore this social media side of Lazer. "You're telling them he isn't exclusive with anyone? And certainly not me."

  "Absolutely," Callie said with such confidence and enthusiasm that I wondered whether I should be insulted.

  "How are you responding to the pictures?" Those damn intrusive pictures of me with my heart on my sleeve.

  "So far, with the same tone. We've been saying you're friends."

  I narrowed my eyes and balled my fists, angry at my own stupidity. "You have my permission to throw this on me. Lazer would say he can't help it if his matchmaker makes eyes at him."

  Callie laughed. "There's no need to go that far. At this point, it's enough to reassure women that he's still on the market. And deflect with the benefits of using Pair Us and the app. You know Lazer." Her tone said it all. "Have you been following 'his' tweets and posts?"

  I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "I have. You're doin
g such a good job mimicking him it's a little frightening. If I didn't know he hadn't written them, I'd never suspect he wasn't behind them."

  She laughed again. "I've had a little experience. We've been his social media firm since the beginning."

  "Keep up the good work," I said. "And let me know if you hear from him. I'll do the same." I hung up and caught my car to the airport.

  My cell phone rang as I stepped into the car. As it had been doing all morning, my heart raced. Hope sprang eternal. Lazer?

  My stomach fell when I saw whom it was. Sunshine Sheri, Seattle talk show host. I braced myself, tried to remember my media training, and answered the call.

  "Ashley! Fabulous," Sheri cooed in that fake tone of friendship. "Finally! Someone who will pick up. Lazer has been avoiding my calls all morning." Her tone was falsely light. Her irritation slipped through in less than subtle overtones.

  "Don't take it personally," I said, hoping to defuse her anger and trying to sound unconcerned. "He's been avoiding everyone's."

  "He's found time to tweet."

  I heard her tapping on something. Damn. I hoped the social media campaign didn't come back to bite us.

  "You know Lazer. He's a social media whore. It's part of why we all love him." It was my turn to try to pass myself off as unconcerned and amused.

  "Some more than others," Sheri said. "I've seen the pictures and read the article."

  I didn't respond.

  "Let's not play games," she said. "I've been generous with my show time toward you. Painted you and Lazer and your little venture in a positive light. I hope you haven't been playing me, like you're being accused of playing everyone else." She clucked her tongue.

  If she'd meant to scold me into submission, she failed. I'd never reacted well to being chastised.

  "I'll come right to the point—are you and Lazer dating behind everyone's back?"