The Relationship Coach (8 page)

“Hi,” she said, as he waited for her to take a seat before sitting across from her in the booth.

“Did you have any trouble finding the restaurant?”

She admired his appropriate business casual attire of a suit coat and dress jeans. Most women would consider Reed Hunter a hottie, and Lacey had to admit she liked his style.

“No, not at all. I’ve driven by it before, but I’ve never eaten here.” This was not the type of restaurant Dean and she frequented.

The waitress appeared, and Reed ordered a bottle of wine, while Lacey gazed at the menu.

“Do you eat here often?” she asked.

“Sometimes. The food is excellent. I use to bring my girlfriend here,” Reed said, his expression reflected no emotion at the mention of his previous girlfriend.

Candlelight flickered on their table, casting shadows across his handsome face.

Relationships, women, dating—none of these topics appeared to bring about any expressions of excitement or even enthusiasm. Reed seemed distant at the mention of marriage or girlfriends.

Lacey smiled. “Yes, it is a restaurant that specializes in romance.”

More like seduction, but she would never tell him that.

“They also have outstanding food,” he reiterated.

“You said you used to bring your girlfriend here.”

“We’re no longer together.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “No sweat.”

A careless attitude that made her wonder what brought about the couple’s demise. He’d either been hurt really bad or simply hid his feelings very well.

“What about yourself? Are you currently in a relationship? Married?” he asked.

“I’m in a committed relationship, but I’ve never married. I decided years ago to wait until I was certain before I walked down the aisle.”

Reed leaned toward her, his brows drawn together, and he gazed at her intently. “How can you be certain about someone? You could think he’s perfect for you and wake up one day and realize you hate the guy.”

She nodded. “True, but by knowing exactly what you want and searching for someone who meets your qualifications, your chances of appearing in divorce court are much less. There’s no certainty about anything in this life, but I like to at least make my odds a little better.”

The waitress appeared and poured their wine. While Reed ordered, Lacey tried to figure out the man. Obviously intelligent, he’d never married. Good-looking, and yet he was alone. Reed appeared nonchalant about women in general, yet he clearly wasn’t gay. Why would a man like Reed want to make a documentary about a relationship coach?

He didn’t seem to believe in love or relationships.

She sipped the cool chardonnay, the flavor bursting in her mouth. “Tell me again why you’re making this documentary?”

“I like to tell real life stories about what is going on in the world. I want to show injustices. I want to show people who are helping one another. I want to give people a view of the world they don’t see in their ordinary lives.”

From what she could discern about his personality, he didn’t seem to believe in love or relationships.

“Sounds impressive.”

“Why did you become a relationship coach?” he asked.

She sat back, wondering how much she should tell him. “My mother married five times before I left for college. My sister and I moved constantly, and we had multiple step-brothers and sisters. Turmoil was the norm between the kids, and even between some of my step-fathers and us. I decided I wanted to help people find the right person and keep other children from suffering what we’d experienced.”

Reed chuckled. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing because of what you just told me. I’m laughing because the thought of you in a house filled with chaos doesn’t fit. You’re so calm, cool, and collected. What you’re telling me is difficult for me to picture.”

Lacey shook her head and frowned. “It wasn’t pleasant. One of my step-sisters stole my clothes whenever she visited for the weekend. I didn’t dare mention my favorite shirt, or it disappeared. In fact, I often told her I loved a shirt when I actually loathed it. The shirt disappeared, making me happy.”

“Didn’t you tell your mother what was going on?” he asked, an incredulous look on his face.

She shook her head and frowned at him. “At first, my sister and I tried to tell her, but mother was trying to win over my step-sister, Becky, who hated all of us, so there was never any punishment.” Lacey gazed at him and wondered how many relationships he’d experienced. How many women’s hearts he’d broken or how many times he’d been dumped. “Tell me more about this documentary.”

“I brought along the production schedule. I thought maybe you’d like to see it. It shows who I’m going to interview and how I’m going to compare dating services to your business,” he said, pulling some folded papers out of his jacket.

“Okay, but I have a matchmaking service,” she said, wanting to make sure he understood the difference.

“Yes, I know, but I want to compare how you match couples to how the dating service matches couples.”

She gazed at him as he handed her the schedule. “Some services put your picture on the website and say ‘go for it.’ There is no thought to if the two of you have anything in common or not. There are a couple of dating companies who use personality tests to match you.”

“Then there are the free websites,” he said.

Music played softly in the background as he gazed at her intently. She refused to acknowledge he was damn good looking or the little hitch in her breathing he seemed to create.

“You get what you pay for. You don’t have any idea who you’re meeting. It could be a serial killer, rapist, or a cult member looking for a new wife.”

He appeared to contemplate her remarks. “Tell me what makes your service different from other dating services?”

“All of my clients are required to have a criminal background check, personality tests, and self-evaluation. Clients must attend at least one of my dating seminars and fill out a complete and thorough application, disclosing what they’re looking for in a mate,” she said, taking a sip of her wine.

Reed raised his brows. “That’s a lot of personal information.”

“Kept strictly confidential.”

“Do you turn some people away?” he asked.

“All the time. We only help people who are serious about finding a mate. And if you’re looking for or needing therapy, that’s not my expertise.” She glanced over the production schedule and noted with interest that he had penciled in several of her seminars. On paper, the impression appeared favorable, but she couldn’t quite get a feel for how he intended to portray her.

“This looks acceptable. But my career, my business, is hinging on how you film this documentary. Do you believe in relationship coaches?” she asked him, needing to know.

“Finding women has never been a problem for me.”

She couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled forth. No, women would gravitate to Mr. Hunter. His looks, his smile, his flirtatious manner, so why was he alone?

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He sat back and stared at her, while the music played in the background. Did she really have any choice, but to accept his offer? She needed his documentary in order to impress upon the studios that she was ready for television. Yet, she hesitated, needing to know how he felt about her business.

“I’m not convinced your service is necessary for some people.”

A smile slipped into place as she lifted her wine glass to her lips. She’d dealt with men like him before. They came in, determined to show they didn’t need her, and after several sessions, were eager and excited to see the changes in their dating experiences.

“Why are you doing a documentary on relationship coaches and dating services if you don’t believe in them?”

Reed leaned into the table. “It doesn’t matter what I think. My job is to film you and let the viewers decide for themselves if what you’re doing helps people. As long as you have nothing to hide, you should look great.”

Lacey angled toward him, wanting him to understand how what he did with the film could affect her. “Can I depend on you to represent me fairly without letting your personal prejudice show?”

Reed sat back and smiled at her. His green eyes darkened, and he took a deep breath. “I understand your concern. But I’m a journalist. I make documentaries. Ty films and I do the editing. All I can promise you is that what I film is what the audience will see. It’s up to them to make their decision as to whether or not the service you provide is legitimate and satisfying for the people you work with.”

Anxiety gripped Lacey, wringing her insides, until she felt nauseous. She would place the business she’d spent years building into this man’s hands in order to reach the next level. A level she had not confided to him.

For some reason, she didn’t want to tell him about the television show. That card she’d keep close to her chest. Right now, he didn’t have to know she needed him more than he needed her. Eventually, she would tell him, but not yet, not now. Not until he’d earned her trust.

“Tell me why you’ve never married?” she asked, staring at the way his eyes reflected the candlelight, looking for anything that would help her understand him more.

Her television show as the result of his documentary could only help him, as well. And while he kept insisting the final edit would be the result of the camera, she knew better than to believe that. How could he edit film without his personal prejudices slipping into the editing process?

Reed’s brows rose at her question. He leaned back to study her. “What has that got to do with my documentary?”

“I’m trying to understand you and your world view.”

He laughed, his green eyes widened. “My world view?”

“Yes. The more I know you, the better I’ll see what kind of film you’ll make.”

He shook his head at her. “Psychology major?”

“No, though I did take a lot of psych classes.”

Raising the wine glass to his lips, he sipped and watched her, studying her like an ant under a microscope. Finally, he set the glass down. “Many of my college friends have had a big wedding only to realize two kids later that this is not what they wanted,” he responded, his brows drew together, his gaze dark as he shook his head. “It’s not fair to the kids. You know that better than anyone.”

“Don’t you think you would pick the right person or that you could do a relationship better than your college friends?”

“Maybe. But once I was engaged to a woman, and she chose a car over me. Since then, I’ve never found a woman who kept me interested enough that I was willing to take another chance. My career is my relationship, and we’re doing just fine.”

“A car,” Lacey said.

“Yes, a red Corvette. Her father said if she would dump me, he’d buy her a car.” He shrugged, and she knew he tried to act like it meant nothing, but he failed. Could this be the reason he seemed closed off, not open to love?

“So you gave up on love.”

He stared at her. “I’m way better than a red Corvette. She chose the car. I haven’t found a woman who has made me regret my decision to give up on marriage.”

Reed didn’t acknowledge that he’d given up on love, but she could see it in his posture, in the tone of his voice, that he no longer believed in love.

“What about kids?”

“I like kids, but I don’t want my children shuttled back and forth between two homes and two parents, having to deal with step-parents or brothers and sisters. You of all people should understand where I’m coming from.”

She nodded.

He pinched off a piece of bread and raised it to his lips. “Until the day comes when I find a woman I can’t live without, I’m careful there are no accidental pregnancies.”

His career was his life, and until he believed in love once again, no woman would complete him. But what were his career goals?

“You’ve won an IDA award?” she asked, trying to avert her eyes from the way he licked his lips after eating the oil-dipped bread.

Reed smiled. “Yes, my film on the Russian sex trade won an IDA award. Now my film on financial reform is up for an IDA award.”

“Congratulations.”

“But my last film about the underground sex trade in Russia and France disturbed me. I exposed how girls are often forced into brothels or sold by their parents. Despicable business, but the film garnered huge attention, and the studio made a nice profit.”

She shuddered. “That sounds grim compared to what you’re doing now.”

“Yes, I needed something fun and not so dark. Even filmmakers suffer from burn-out,” he said, with a smile.

His face lit up when he spoke about his films, and his voice became animated with emotion and excitement. Lacey couldn’t help but think this documentary would be a perfect opportunity to show the world the joys and the heartbreaks of her business in a sensitive way people would understand. Yet, she would have to prove to him she offered a valuable service to people. She would have to show him love was a valuable emotion.

“What is your biggest career goal?” she asked.

“An Oscar,” he said immediately. “I want to win the big award that all filmmakers covet.”

Many people had been disbelievers when they started her program, and when they finished, many of them shouted her praises. She would have to show Reed Hunter how her twelve step program mated people for life. She would have to show him love mattered most of all.

Once he started filming her, she was certain he’d see the value of a relationship coach.

Their food arrived, and as she savored the first bite, the violinists strolled up to their table and began to play a sad, romantic ballad. She wanted to roll her eyes at them, but instead, she concentrated on her manicotti. The cheese was excellent, and the music was irritating. Did they really think that crap worked on women?

The trio ambled to the next table, and Reed gazed at her in surprise. “I thought you would like this restaurant.”

He must have seen the eye roll. “Why? Because it’s romantic?” she asked.

“Well, yes. You’re in the romance business. I knew we were meeting for a business dinner, but I thought this type of restaurant would appeal to you.” He held his fork in mid-air, his green eyes wide with surprise.