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equipment was housed inside floor-to-ceiling woodencabinets that were rolled out for use. The video screen was mounted on the wall for full presentations of clients and their prospects. The bay windows looked out onto the bluffs and ocean beyond. Pale peach walls were adorned with one-of-a-kind pieces of art. Glass and chrome were the focal accessories, with conversational seating throughout. Fresh flowers graced the tables, shipped in weekly from the florist. This was TPS central, where all of the decisions were made.
    â€œI’ve done some preliminary work on Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Lawson,” Veronica said, “based on observation and what I was able to pull from the Internet. I’ll have a full profile of each once we set up the meeting.”
    â€œYou certainly didn’t waste any time,” Melanie said. “Let’s see what you have so far.”
    Veronica pressed a button on the console and the screen lit up. The first screen was filled with basic data about Claude and Rafe—date of birth, physicality, where they lived, profession, education and relationship status.
    Melanie stared at the near life-sized images of Claude and felt her body come alive in response. She knew she’d have to keep her lusty thoughts to herself if she was going to be effective in finding a suitable match for him.
    The sound of male voices coming in their directiondrew everyone’s attention. Moments later Alan stuck his head in the door.
    â€œI thought I smelled smoke,” Alan joked. “All this brain power brushing up against each other like kindling.”
    â€œVery funny,” Melanie said.
    â€œI brought company.”
    Claude stepped into the frame of the door. “Good morning.”
    â€œMorning.”
    Melanie’s heart banged in her chest and a sudden rush of heat flooded her body. She shifted in her seat, reached for her coffee cup, realized her hands were shaking and changed her mind. She folded her hands in her lap.
    â€œHe insisted that I stop by today,” Claude explained. “I told him I should have called first for an appointment.” He was talking to everyone in the room, but his gaze had settled on Melanie.
    Her throat was bone dry.
    â€œNot a problem,” Jessica said. “Roni was just going over your preliminaries.”
    â€œWas she?” Claude’s brows rose in question. “And what might those be?”
    â€œBasic data,” Veronica said matter of factly. In addition to being the profiler of the business, Veronica was an Internet and computer whiz. If there was a grain of sand to be found, Veronica would find it. Shehad search programs and software that Melanie didn’t want to know anything about. Google was archaic as far as Veronica was concerned.
    â€œIt’s all protocol,” Melanie said, finally finding her voice. “We build a profile on all of our clients. It’s how we make an appropriate match.”
    Claude crossed the room. Melanie caught a subtle whiff of his scent. Her pulse fluttered. He sat down in one of the matching side chairs.
    â€œSounds very…calculated, for lack of a better word.”
    â€œPart calculation, part chemistry,” Jessica offered.
    â€œOur responsibility is to match the wants and desires, intelligence and personality of two people, and ask all the questions that two people who are attracted to each other never ask until it’s too late.”
    Claude stretched his long legs out in front of him. Alan clapped him heartily on the shoulder. “They’re really pretty harmless,” he teased.
    Claude glanced up at his friend. “You sure? I sorta feel like a science project.”
    â€œOnce we match you up with the woman of your dreams, you’ll forget all about this technical stuff,” Melanie said with a wave of her hand.
    Claude zeroed in on Melanie. “Is that a promise?” His eyes moved across her face, heating everywhere they landed.
    Melanie