Page 110 of No Match Found
Miss Chen’s eyes lit with interest—and a hint of admiration. “I’m very intrigued by this idea. If you’re serious about this type of feature, Stratus’s interest in the future of Matchify would be much deeper.”
I was serious. In fact, it had been a long time since I’d felt this level of excitement about something at Matchify. But it wasn’t just because of what it meant for the app.
“Entirely serious,” I said. “Obviously, I need to discuss things with my developers, but once we’ve done that, I’d be happy to give you more information on how the idea takes form.”
She smiled and rose to her feet. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you then.”
“I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me, Miss Chen.” I put out my hand, and she took it.
“I’m glad I did.”
I watched as she went through the door, my body teeming with energy.
I should go talk to Jackie and her team right away. But I wouldn’t.
It was Grant I needed to see.
THIRTY-FIVE
I couldn’t remembera time in my life when my body had been so uncomfortably full of energy as it was now, standing in front of the non-descript white door of Grant’s hotel room.
It felt like an eternity before footsteps sounded, but it had probably been less than thirty seconds when the door opened.
Grant stood in the doorway, his crooked glasses even more askew than usual, his hair wet, and his shirt unbuttoned like he’d barely dressed after a shower.
He blinked. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
We stared at each other for a second, and my gaze flitted to the bare skin under his open shirt.
A glimmer of amusement lit his eyes.
“You seem surprised,” I said as he moved aside for me to come in. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“Yeah.” He shut the door. “Housekeeping.”
I turned back toward him, my gaze dropping to his open shirt. I raised a brow. “Do you always greet them half-dressed?”
He looked down, and when his eyes came up again, there was amusement in them. “You mean 95% dressed? Half-dressed would be more like this.” He grabbed the two sides of his shirt and started to shrug out of it.
I put a hand up to stop him, my pulse quickening. “Okay, okay. I get it. It was a low estimate.” If he started undressing, I wouldn’t be able to get out what I wanted to say.
He settled back into his shirt. His fingers paused on the buttons, and I watched and waited. When nothing happened, I looked at him. His eyes were fixed on me, twinkling.
Slowly—provocatively—he dropped his hands, leaving the shirt open.
I shot him a flat look. “I guess I’ll have to settle for 95.”
“You can round up mentally.”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
Behind Grant’s amusement, there was a sharpness to his gaze. He was watching me even more carefully than usual, like I was some unpredictable creature whose next move he was trying to anticipate.
It was nice to be in this position. Usually the tables were turned. But even when I had the upper hand, he managed to rile me up.
“So, what’s up?” he asked, leaning his hand on the table where The Truth Machine sat.
