Julie glanced over at the half-made dress lying on the table and bit her lip. She had to finish it before the weekend was out, but the stiffness in her neck had her rolling her head side to side with a moan.
Emily placed a Cinnabon bag on the counter and strutted to the table.
“It’s a beautiful day to fall in love, you know.” Her false lashes fluttered, and she grinned at Julie, while resting her hip against the table.
“You don’t still believe in that, do you?” Julie rooted through the Cinnabon bag and pulled out a roll. It was still warm.
Emily squared her shoulders and placed her slender hands on her hips.
“Well, I am a matchmaker. It would be terrible if I didn’t believe it.” Her voice was soft and musical—a stark contrast to Julie’s deep voice.
Julie devoured the cinnamon roll and licked the frosting off her fingertips. Emily has a point, she thought.
“Well, I’ll need your help. I have no idea what to wear, and you need to tell me about this guy. I hate blind dates.”
Emily clapped her hands, her black and silver painted nails sparkled in the setting sunlight as she offered a gleeful smile.
“Oh, don’t you worry, I came prepared.”
Emily left the apartment for a short while and returned with a mountain of shopping bags.
“He’s a high-profile client, and we need you to look the part.”
“You mean, less like a poor seamstress and more like a Hollywood actress?” Julie asked wryly.
“Exactly.” Emily nodded as she pulled out a long maroon gown.
“I’m the woman in the red dress? How cliché.” Julie walked over to inspect it. Boning to the bodice, refined darts from the waist to the bust. The skirt was heavy, perhaps weighted at the hemline. It was exquisite.
“I can’t accept this.” Julie looked up at Emily, who was brimming with pride. She knew she chose well.
“Of course, you can. How many dresses have you made for me over the years? I owe you.”
She ushered Julie out of the room toward the bedroom and instructed her to try it on.
“So, what is he like?” Julie shouted through the closed door as Emily waited on the other side. She fiddled with the fastenings on the back of the gown and unzipped it.
“He’s an introvert, like you,” Emily replied, her voice muffled. Julie undressed out of her sweat pants and shirt—the same clothes she had been wearing since Friday and stepped into the gown.
“Tall? Hair color? Eyes? Hobbies?”
“He’s taller than me.”
“Most people are––”
“Brown hair but sort of golden in the sunshine, dark brooding eyes.”
Julie shrugged the sleeves up to her shoulders.
“Hmm. Keep talking.”
“He’s in the movie business.”
Julie sucked the air in through her teeth with a hiss. She didn’t like dating men like that.
“Don’t you dare judge; he’s a total sweetheart.” Emily pushed open the door and gave Julie a reproachful look. Julie feigned horror and attempted to work the zipper, but her arms wouldn’t bend that way. Emily tutted and walked over to her.
“Let me do it,” she said as she yanked on the material, forcing Julie’s posture to straighten.
“You need to stop hunching like that; it’s bad for your spine.”
Julie turned to look at Emily, who gasped and raised her hands to her mouth.
“You look breathtaking.” Her eyes glistened.
Julie swallowed and looked back at herself, feeling self-conscious. Yes, she made extravagant dresses every day. But that was for high-end women, with enough class and demure to carry off the look. Julie was just… Julie. She preferred comfort over class, and the red designer dress did not accurately reflect her bank balance.
“Emily, don’t you think this is mis-selling?”
Emily chuckled.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not an insurance policy.” She marched out of the room. “Take a shower, and I’ll order us some food,” she called back.
Julie sighed heavily, wondering what Emily had gotten her into. She was going on a date with a rich bachelor who probably dated Academy Award-winning actresses, and maybe even half of New York. But Emily did say he was an introvert and sweet. Perhaps he was the tortured, yet brilliant screen-writer who rubbed shoulders with high-profile people but didn’t feel like he belonged in that world. It’s only one date, Julie thought to herself as she prepared to take a shower. She grinned and stepped into the steam.
Chapter Two
The Shy Billionaire
“I don’t like this,” Harry said as he straightened his tie, looking in the floor-length mirror.
“What’s the matter, sir?” Benjamin said from the door; Harry’s head of security and stood perfectly still.
Harry turned to him and anxiously patted his blonde wavy hair in a vain attempt to smooth it out.
“Why did you let me sign up for this? Matchmaking… what a joke.” He stuffed his shirt into his pant trousers and looked wildly around the room.
“It’s on the bed,” Benjamin said calmly, knowing exactly what Harry was looking for. Harry marched over to the bed and picked up his inhaler.
“Do you think it’s too late to cancel? I could say I’m sick. Or kidnapped? Held at ransom?” He laughed derisively at his own words and waved his hands. “Don’t answer that.” He took his inhaler and breathed in slowly.
“I believe you will have fun. You always do,” Benjamin said.
Harry paced the room and glanced at his watch. It was time to go. Snakes writhed within his gut and he dabbed the back of his neck with a towel.
“I’m a mess. Why do I agree to these stupid blind dates?”
“Because you’re lonely, and if left to your own devices, you end up with the wrong person.”
Harry shot Benjamin a hard look. He couldn’t argue but did not appreciate his tone.
“Thanks for that,” he said dismissively. Benjamin inclined his head. The phone rang, prompting Harry to turn hot on his heels and retrieve it from his nightstand.
“Harold, I need to know if you’re going to be at the charity dinner this weekend.”
“How many times… please don’t
