Free Cool Cache by Patricia Smiley

singing “Kumbaya.”
    Lorna glanced into Charley’s office and saw it was empty. A pout began forming on her mouth. “Where is he?”
    “At the courthouse,” I said.
    She gestured toward the bag. “I have something to show him. When is he coming back?”
    “I don’t know. Did you call his cell?”
    “He doesn’t answer.”
    I walked back toward my office. “Then I guess you’ll just have to wait until tonight.”
    Lorna grabbed the shopping bag from Eugene’s desk with enough force to rip off one of the handles. “Thanks for nothing, Tucker.”
    “My pleasure,” I mumbled under my breath.
    A few moments later, the door to the outside hallway slammed shut. Eugene came into my office, his finger making a circular motion next to his ear.
    “When I think of Lorna procreating,” he said. “I get Village of the Damned flashbacks.”
    “Half the kid’s genes would be Charley’s.”
    “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
    I smiled. “Yeah . . . you have a point.”
    Elizabeth Bennet’s appointment was at three. I didn’t want to seem clueless about the matchmaking industry, so in preparation for our meeting, I searched the Internet for information on modern-day dating practices. I found several research papers on the public library Web site and discovered that a person has only a 17 percent chance of hitting it off with a blind date arranged by a friend. I didn’t need a research study to tell me what I’d already verified in the field.
    I also read that people spent over forty billion dollars a year on weddings, and that in the past four years, annual revenues from matchmaking businesses had increased 300 percent. The researchers estimated that 75 percent of adults in the U.S. were looking for true love. I wondered what the other 25 percent were looking for. Lorna Tate?
    Elizabeth Bennet was in a competitive field, but the potential was promising. She just needed to weed out the serial daters and the serial killers from her client list, price her services to beat the competition, and she’d soon be bringing in some cool cash.
    I’d collected enough matchmaking facts to impress even the most jaded client, so I decided to search the Internet for Elizabeth Bennet to see if she had a presence on the Web. I got a number of hits, mostly for Jane Austen’s heroine in Pride and Prejudice . No wonder the name sounded familiar. I just hoped this Elizabeth Bennet was as sensible and smart as the literary figure, because I wasn’t in the mood to assume command of the bimbo brigade. A few minutes before three, Eugene called on the intercom. Elizabeth Bennet was waiting for me in the lobby.

Chapter 9
    I straightened the papers on my desk into tidy piles. I wanted the place to look neat, but I didn’t want Elizabeth Bennet to think I wasn’t busy. I walked into the reception area and found a fair-haired, athletic woman in her midtwenties standing near Eugene’s desk. She wore no makeup, but that didn’t matter. It might have made her more glamorous, but it wouldn’t have made her more beautiful.
    “Ms. Bennet? I’m Tucker Sinclair.”
    She stared at me until her unwavering gaze made me uncomfortable. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
    “Good things I hope. Do you mind telling me who referred you?”
    She hesitated. “Nobody, really. I’ve just heard your name mentioned a bunch of times.”
    That sounded suspiciously vague, but there was no point in being confrontational. I’d press her for more information during our interview. I led her into my office and we both settled in chairs across the desk from each other. As she set her handbag on the floor, a bottle of water rolled out and clunked against her shoe.
    “I understand you run a dating service,” I said. “Sounds challenging and entrepreneurial.”
    “I’m just getting started. You know, still trying to get clients, make good matches, that sort of thing. My goal is to get a few of my couples married. Don’t you think that would