to the side and continued. "You make my case, Mr. Harrison. Let me see if I'm reading your intentions. In your mind, you've set a time limit for me to prove myself. What was it... twenty minutes?"
"Ten," he blurted out, not meaning to. What was it about this woman with the bedroom voice that stole his ability to hold his tongue?
She smiled again and his stomach knotted with a shot of unexpected and unwanted desire.
"Ten minutes," she repeated. "To outline exactly how I plan on finding you the perfect wife for your short-term goals. A businessman like yourself expects quick efficiency and no emotional baggage to complicate matters. Am I right so far?" She watched him now. Her green eyes never wavering, her freckled nose pert over pink lips that moved to usher her erotic 900-number toned voice.
"Completely."
"Women are emotional, which is why your assistant looked into my service to begin with. My guess is, there are many women who would sell their souls to marry you, Mr. Harrison, but you don't trust them enough to give them the title."
Most of the time, it was him outlining his needs. Having the tables reversed should have left him feeling exposed. Somehow listening to Sam Elliot, who was definitely not a man, spelling out his dilemma didn't strip him bare, but rather blanketed him with comfort. He'd come to the right place to fix his problem.
"How do I know I can trust a woman you come up with?"
"I prescreen every lady in my directory just as thoroughly as I do the men. Background checks, financial obligations, family skeletons hiding in their closets, personal habits."
"You sound like a private investigator."
"Not hardly. But I can understand why you'd think that. Matching people is what I do."
Blake sat back and crossed his hands over his chest. He liked her, he decided, mentally adding another ten minutes to his predetermined time.
"Shall we continue?"
He reached for his coffee and nodded.
Sam grasped onto a pen and twisted the papers she'd pushed in front of him her way. "I have a few questions for you before I allow this to move forward."
Blake's brow rose with her words. Interesting. "How long do I have to prove myself to you, Ms. Elliot?"
She glanced up through long lashes. "Five minutes."
He sat forward, thoroughly intrigued with what she was going to determine about him in that amount of time.
"Have you ever been arrested?"
His record was clear, but that wasn't the question.
He knew if he lied to Sam, she'd pack up her things and walk out the door. "I was seventeen and the kid I punched was hitting on my sister. The record was buried." As all records of kids from his station in life were.
"Have you ever hit a woman?"
His jaw tightened. "Never."
"Ever wanted to?" She watched him now, eyes sharp.
"No." Violence didn't play into his personality.
"I need the name of your closest friend."
"Carter Billings."
She scribbled the name down.
"Worst enemy?"
He didn't see that question coming. "I'm not sure how to answer that."
"Let me rephrase it, then. Who in your life would like to see you come to harm?"
His first thoughts scanned his list of business associates who might have felt slighted over the years. None would be better off if he were gone at this point. There was only one person who might see things differently.
"Whose image are you thinking of, Mr. Harrison?"
Blake took a drink of his coffee and felt it hit the bottom of his stomach with a thump. "Only one."
Samantha lifted her eyes to his, waiting.
"My cousin, Howard Walker."
A tiny slack in her jaw, a slump in her shoulders, these were the only things that indicated the impact of his words. Much to Blake's surprise, Samantha Elliot wrote down the information and didn't question further.
She removed the top sheet of her papers and handed him the others. "I'm going to need you to fill these out. You can fax them to me at the number on the bottom of page eight."
"Did I pass your test, Ms. Elliot?"
"Honesty needs to be maintained throughout this process. So far, everything is working for me."
It was Blake's turn to smile. "I could have lied about the assault charge."
Samantha started to pack up her things as she spoke. "His name was Drew Falsworth. You were two months past your seventeenth birthday when you broke his nose at a polo match at the prep school you both attended. Drew had a reputation for dating girls long enough to get them into bed before dumping and moving