Free The Matchmaker by Kay Hooper Page A

chessboard, all the moves planned out in advance, and it was a decidedly unsettling sensation for a man who had never believed anyone other than himself was the master of his fate.
    "Cy?"
    He looked questioningly at Noel.
    "Going to the Drummonds' party tonight?"
    The distraction, it seemed, had been only temporary. Cyrus had been trying not to think of Julia, but Noel was obviously too curious—and perhaps concerned—to let the subject drop.
    "I was invited," Cyrus said briefly.
    "That isn't an answer. Are you going?"
    "Yes, Noel, I'm going."
    "Is she a piece of the puzzle?" Noel asked softly.
    The question surprised Cyrus, because Noel asked it and because the reply, spoken silently but emphatically in his head, was, Yes , she is. He went very still, consciously listening, but nothing else came to him. Julia was a piece of the puzzle, his puzzle, he was certain of it.
    "Why did you put it that way?" he asked slowly.
    Noel shook his head. "Because you're different. Be cause a few minutes ago, when I suggested you might be different because of her, I could see it in your face. You are. She matters to you, doesn't she?"
    That was something Cyrus wasn't willing to think about, to question. There were so many damned questions already. Looking back down at the plans for his house, he said dryly, "Rejection matters to me. God or the devil must be trying to teach me a lesson after all. She doesn't want me."
    "And you're accepting her refusal?"
    Cyrus looked up quickly, his eyes fierce. "Dammit, Noel, does everyone believe I'm a lecher? That I'd seduce a woman no matter how unwilling she was, and not care how much it hurt her?"
    Noel whistled softly under his breath. "You are cer tainly touchy these days. No one's called you a lecher as far as I'm aware, Cy . I certainly haven't, and I don't think it of you. It's simply that I've never seen you give up, much less this quickly."
    "Let's drop the subject, shall we?" Cyrus's tone was testy.
    Noel decided he'd better do as he was asked. It seemed as though Julia Drummond's refusal, combined with an enigmatic clue to Cyrus's beginnings, had pushed his friend well past the limits of his usual tolerance. Noel was more than a little worried about him. As odd as he sometimes was, during his entire life the one thing all of Cyrus's friends had been able to count on was the complete absence of a temper. No matter what was said to him or about him, Cyrus had always reacted with calm, sometimes with mockery, and often with amusement, but never anger.
    And there was more to it, Noel thought. There was something Cyrus hadn't chosen to tell him. He knew his friend too well to push, but it bothered him.
    "Take a look at the plans and see what you think," Cyrus invited Noel now, his voice normal again.
    Noel joined him in bending over the blueprints and made a couple of idle suggestions to improve the design, neither of which Cyrus agreed with. But the discussion helped to ease the remaining tension between the two men, and seemed to restore Cyrus to his usual calm temper. It wasn't until a few minutes later, when he was rolling up the plans, that Noel noticed something he'd forgotten about since long-ago childhood days of games and swimming in the river.
    "I see you still have that birthmark. I'd forgotten it was so dark."
    "Age changes everything, I suppose." Cyrus glanced down at the inside of his left forearm and felt an odd little chill feather up his spine. The mark he'd been born with was hardly bigger than a gold piece, a perfect crescent shape a shade darker than the surrounding flesh and hardly noticeable. Or at least, it had always been only a shade darker. Now it was deeper in color, almost bloodred, and it was very visible.
    "We'd better start back if you don't want to be late for the Drummond party," Noel said casually, obviously not noticing anything unusual in his friend's expression.
    Cyrus rolled his sleeves back down. He heard himself ask, "Are you going?" and his voice sounded