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One.

In the media business-and in life-presentation trumped everything else, and Dax Wakefield never underestimated the value of putting on a good show.

Careful attention to every detail was the reason his far-flung media empire had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. So why was KDLS, the former jewel of his crown, turning in such dismal ratings?

Dax stopped at the receptionist's desk in the lobby of the news station he'd come to fix. "Hey, Rebecca. How's Brian's math grade this semester?"

The receptionist's smile widened as she fluffed her hair and threw her shoulders back to make sure he noticed her impressive figure.

He noticed. A man who enjoyed the female form as much as Dax always noticed.

"Good morning, Mr. Wakefield," Rebecca chirped. "He made a C on his last report card. Such an improvement. It's been like six months since I mentioned his grades. How on earth did you remember?"

Because Dax made it a point to keep at least one personal detail about all his employees front and center when speaking to them. The mark of success wasn't simply who had the most money, but who had the best-run business, and no one could do it all by themselves. If people liked working for you, they stuck around, and turned themselves inside out to perform.

Usually. Dax had a few questions for Robert Smith, the station manager, about the latest ratings. Someone was tripping up somewhere.

Dax tapped his temple and grinned. "My mama encourages me to use this bad boy for good instead of evil. Is Robert around?"

The receptionist nodded and buzzed the lock on the security door. "They're taping a segment. I'm sure he's hovering near the set."

"Say hi to Brian for me," Dax called as he sailed through the frosted gla.s.s door and into the greatest show on earth-the morning news.

Cameramen and gaffers mixed it up, harried producers with electronic tablets stepped over thick cables on their way to the sound booth, and in the middle of it all sat KDLS's star anchor, Monica McCreary. She was conversing on camera with a pet.i.te dark-haired woman who had great legs, despite being on the shorter side. She'd done a lot with what she had and he appreciated the effort.

Dax paused at the edge of the organized chaos and crossed his arms, locking gazes with the station manager. With a nod, Robert scurried across the ocean of people and equipment to join him.

"Saw the ratings, huh?" Robert murmured.

That was a quality Dax fully appreciated in his employees-the ability to read his mind.

Low ratings irritated him because there was no excuse. Sensationalism was key, and if nothing newsworthy happened, it was their job to create something worth watching, and ensure that something had Wakefield Media stamped on it.

"Yep." Dax left it at that, for now. He had all day and the crew was in the middle of taping. "What's this segment?"

"Dallas business owners. We feature one a week. Local interest stuff."

Great Legs owned her own business? Interesting. Smart women equaled a huge turn-on.

"What's she do? Cupcakes?"

Even from this distance, the woman exuded energy-a perky little cheerleader type who never met a curlicue or excess of decoration she didn't like. He could see her dolloping frosting on a cupcake and charging an exorbitant price for it.

Dax could go for a cupcake. Literally and figuratively. Maybe even at the same time.

"Nah. She runs a dating service." Robert nodded at the pair of women under the spotlight. "EA International. Caters to exclusive clients."

The back of Dax's neck heated instantly and all thoughts of cupcakes went out the window.

"I'm familiar with the company."

Through narrowed eyes, Dax zeroed in on the Dallas business owner who had cost him his oldest friend. Someone who called herself a matchmaker should be withered and stooped, with gray hair. It was such an antiquated notion. And it should be against the law.

The anchor laughed at something the matchmaker said and leaned forward. "So you're Dallas's answer to a fairy G.o.dmother?"

"I like to think of myself as one. Who doesn't need a bit of magic in their lives?" Her sleek dark hair swung freely as she talked with her hands, expression animated.

"You recently matched the Delamerian prince with his fiancee, right?" Monica winked. "Women everywhere are cursing that, I'm sure."

"I can't take credit." The matchmaker smiled and it transformed her entire demeanor. "Prince Alain-Finn-and Juliet had a previous relationship. I just helped them realize it wasn't over."

Dax couldn't stop watching her.

As much as he hated to admit it, the matchmaker lit up the set. KDLS's star news anchor was more of a minor celestial body compared to the matchmaker's sun.

And Dax was never one to underestimate star power.

Or the element of surprise.

He strode onto the set and dismissed the anchor with a jerk of his head. "I'll take over from here, Monica. Thanks."

Despite the unusual request, Monica smiled and vacated her chair without comment. No one else so much as blinked. No one who worked for him, anyway.

As he parked in Monica's still-warm chair, the pet.i.te dynamo opposite him nearly bowled him over when she blurted out, "What's going on? Who are you?"

A man who recognized a golden opportunity for improved ratings.

"Dax Wakefield. I own the station," he said smoothly. "And this interview has officially started over. It's Elise, right?"

Her confusion leveled out and she crossed her spectacular legs, easing back in the chair carefully. "Yes, but you can call me Ms. Arundel."

Ah, so she recognized his name. Let the fun begin.

He chuckled darkly. "How about if I call you Ms. Hocus-Pocus instead? Isn't that your gig, pulling fast ones on unsuspecting clients? You bibbidi-bobbidi-boo women into relationships with wealthy men."

This interview had also officially become the best way to dish up a side of revenge-served cold. If this ratings gold mine led to discrediting EA International, so much the better. Someone had to save the world from this matchmaker's mercenary female clients.

"That's not what I do." Elise's gaze cut from his face to his torso and her expression did not melt into the typical sensuous smile that said she'd be happy to further discuss whatever he wanted to talk about over drinks. Unlike most women.

It whetted his appet.i.te to get sparks on the screen another way.

"Enlighten us then," he allowed magnanimously with a wave of his hand.

"I match soul mates." Elise, pardon-me-Ms.-Arundel, cleared her throat and recrossed her legs as if she couldn't find a comfortable pose. "Some people need more help than others. Successful men seldom have time or the patience to sort through potential love interests. I do it for them. At the same time, a man with means needs a certain kind of mate, one not easily found. I widen the potential pool by polishing a few of my female clients into diamonds worthy of the highest social circles."

"Oh, come now. You're training these women to be gold diggers."

That was certainly what she'd done with Daniella White, whose last name was now Reynolds because she'd managed to snare Dax's college friend Leo. Who then promptly screwed Dax over in favor of his wife. A fifteen-year friendship down the drain. Over a woman.

Elise's smile hardened. "You're suggesting women need a cla.s.s on how to marry a man for his money? I doubt anyone with that goal needs help honing her strategy. I'm in the business of making women's lives better by introducing them to their soul mates."

"Why not pay for them to go to college and let them find their own dates?" Dax countered swiftly.

The onlookers shifted and murmured but neither Dax nor Elise so much as glanced away from their staring contest. An indefinable crackle sliced through the air between them. It was going to be beautiful on camera.

"There are scholarship opportunities out there already. I'm filling another niche, helping people connect. I'm good at what I do. You of all people should know that."

Oh, she had not just gone there. Nearly nose to nose now, he smiled, the best method to keep 'em guessing. "Why would I know that? Because you single-handedly ruined both a business venture and a long-standing friendship when you introduced Leo to his gold digger?"

So, apparently that wound was still raw.

College roommates who'd seen the world through the same lens, he and Leo believed wholeheartedly in the power of success and brotherhood. Females were to be appreciated until they outlived their usefulness. Until Daniella, who somehow got Leo to fall in love with her and then she'd brainwashed his oldest friend into losing his ruthless business edge.

Not that he believed Daniella was 100 percent at fault. She'd been the instigator but Leo had pulled the plug on the deal with Dax. Both he and Leo had suffered a seven-figure loss. Then Leo ended their friendship for no reason.

The pain of his friend's betrayal still had the power to punch quite a hole through his stomach. That was why it never paid to trust people. Anyone you let in eventually stomped all over you.

"No!" She huffed a sigh of frustration and shut her eyes for a beat, clearly trying to come up with a snappy response. Good luck with that. There wasn't one.

But she tried anyway. "Because I single-handedly helped two people find each other and fall in love. Something real and lasting happened before your eyes and you had a front-row seat. Leo and Dannie are remarkably compatible and share values. That's what my computer does. Matches people according to who they are."

"The magic you alluded to earlier," Dax commented with raised eyebrows. "Right? It's all smoke and mirrors, though. You tell these people they're compatible and they fall for it. The power of suggestion. Quite brilliant, actually."

And he meant it. If anyone knew the benefit of smoke and mirrors, he did. It kept everyone distracted from what was really going on behind the curtain, where the mess was.

A red stain spilled across Elise's cheeks, but she didn't back down. "You're a cynical man, Dax Wakefield. Just because you don't believe in happily ever after doesn't mean it can't happen."

"True." He conceded the point with a nod. "And false. I readily admit to being cynical but happily ever after is a myth. Long-term relationships consist of two people who've agreed to put up with each other. No ridiculous lies about loving each other forever required."

"That's..." Apparently she couldn't come up with a word to describe it. So he helped her out.

"Reality?"

His mother had proven it by walking out on his father when Dax was seven. His father had never recovered from the hope she'd eventually come back. Poor sap.

"Sad," she corrected with a brittle smile. "You must be so lonely."

He blinked. "That's one I've never been called before. I could have five different dates lined up for tonight in about thirty seconds."

"Oh, you're in worse shape than I thought." With another slide of her legs that Dax couldn't quite ignore, she leaned toward him. "You need to meet the love of your life. Immediately. I can help you."

His own bark of laughter startled him. Because it wasn't funny. "Which part wasn't clear? The part where I said you were a phony or the part where I don't believe in love?"

"It was all very clear," she said quietly. "You're trying to prove my business, my life's work, is a sham. You can't, because I can find the darkest of hearts a match. Even yours. You want to prove something? Put your name in my computer."

Double ouch. He'd been bamboozled. And he'd never seen it coming.

Against all odds, he dredged up a healthy amount of respect for Elise Arundel.

h.e.l.l. He actually kind of liked her style.

Elise wiped her clammy hands on her skirt and prayed the pompous Mr. Wakefield didn't notice. This was not the scripted, safe interview she'd been promised or she never would have agreed to sit on this stage under all these burning hot lights, with what felt like a million pairs of eyes boring a hole through her.

Thinking on her feet was not her strong suit.

Neither was dealing with wealthy, spoiled, too-handsome, arrogant playboys who despised everything she believed in.

And she'd just invited him to test her skills. Had she accidentally inhaled paint thinner?

It hardly mattered. He'd never take her up on it. Guys like Dax didn't darken the door of a matchmaker. Shallow, unemotional relationships were a snap to find, especially for someone who clearly had a lot of practice enticing women into bed. And was likely an ace at keeping them there.

Dax stroked his jaw absently and contemplated her. "Are you offering to find me a match?"

"Not just a match," she corrected immediately and tore her gaze from the thumb running under his chiseled cheekbone. "True love. My gig is happily ever after."

Yes. It was, and she hadn't failed one single couple yet. She wasn't about to start today.

Matching hearts fulfilled her in so many ways. It almost made up for not finding her own match. But hope sprang eternal. If her mother's five marriages and dozens of affairs hadn't squeezed optimism and a belief in the power of love out of her, Dax Wakefield couldn't kill them either.