Page 89 of Failure to Match

No. Yeah. Of course. My first meeting with Minerva was tomorrow, so this needed to get done.

I opened my mouth, meaning to voice the question I’d been staring at. Instead, I accidentally went off-script again. “You mentioned earlier this week that some of these topics feltinvasive to you. If that’s the case—if I ask you a question that makes you uncomfortable—then you don’t have to answer it.”

He didn’t need to be in my direct line of sight for me to feel the shift in his demeanor, the curious tilt of his head.

I cleared my throat.

“I thought my compliance was mandatory,” he said.

Yes, well, “I’ve been given creative control over the process and I’m saying you don’t have to answer any question you’re not comfortable with. I’ll just work with the data I have.”

After a short pause, Jackson leaned in. Again.

I sighed. “We really need to work on your aversion to respecting personal bubbles.”

“Tell you what. I’ll provide an honest answer to whatever question you ask.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “But…”

“But some of those sections were left blank for a reason. So how about I give you all the answers, and we keep the private ones just between us.”

Damn Jackson Sinclair and his sultry voice. I swear I could get tipsy just by listening to him talk. Especially on zero sleep.

“And what am I supposed to do with the information if I can’t use it to find you a wife?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He winked and my whole chest exploded into a tornado of butterflies.

My eyes snapped back to the questionnaire. Permanently, this time.

“Okay, last question for this section. You didn’t list any instruments on your original form, but you own multiple grand pianos. Do you play?”

Jackson tapped the strawberry macaron I’d placed in front of him. That was our system—green for the record, red for my knowledge only.

“I do,” he said. “I’ve played since I was six.”

I frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want that included? I still don’t have much to work with regarding your hobbies and interests.”

Jackson liked to make money. And then he liked to spend it.

That was basically all I had.

“It’s not relevant. I don’t play for other people.”

“All right. Fine.” I flipped the page, only to flip it right back and make sure I hadn’t skipped forward. We were already at the Past Relationships section? That was fast.

Jackson reached for the red macaron as soon as he saw the header.

I sighed. “Any chance there’s a single question on here I can use?”

“I doubt it.”

Tossing my pen onto the table, I stretched my arms above my head. We’d been sitting here for over five hours. My whole body was stiff.

“Let’s just skip it, then,” I offered.

Only because I didn’t want to waste any time. Not because talking about Jackson’s long line of impressively accomplished exes was about as appealing to me as chewing on a handful of thumbtacks.

My stomach clamped when he reached over me to peek at the booklet. With his attention on the pages, my rebellious eyes decided they were free to roam over his features and shamelessly drink him in.

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