“Anne Blanchard, technical writer. Loves the outdoors. Enjoys fishing, boating and being outside. Enjoys a good book and quiet nights. Five-feet-nine, brown hair, green eyes.”
“She’s tall,” Leslie pointed out. “And she loves fishing. You love fishing. And you love quiet nights at home, if I recall.” She leaned back. “All good. Who will you go out with first?”
“Might as well start at the top with Miss Stratton,” Tag said.
“Go ahead, contact her,” Leslie urged. “See if she wants to go out with you.”
“I didn’t think about that. They might not want to go out with me.” Tag brought up Twyla and drafted an email through BODS.
Hi, I’m Tag. BODS thinks we’re a match. Would you be interested in going out with me to see if BODS got it right?
“Is that all you have to say?” Leslie shook her head. “Seems so cold and uninviting.”
Tag shrugged. “She’s on BODS. She should know how it works.”
“Yeah, but you have to make her want to go out with you.”
“What?” Tag raised his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t go out with me after I sent an email like that?”
Again, she crossed her arms over her chest. “No. It was too impersonal. You didn’t say what you liked about her profile or what you found interesting about her.”
“Too late now. I’ll have to wait and see if she rejects me.” He nodded toward her monitor. “Let’s see who you have.”
Leslie frowned at the monitor. “Otis…Peebles?” She blinked several times. “Okay…Physicist. So, he’s smart. Reads science fiction and action adventure.” Leslie nodded. “Goes with the physicist thing.”
“He’s five-feet-seven.”
“Not a problem,” Leslie said. “I can still wear heels on a date.” She stared at his picture. “He looks nice enough.”
“Since your system generates a background check, you know he doesn’t have a criminal record. Neither did Jeffrey Dahmer, before he got caught…after killing all seventeen of those men.”
“Stop!” Leslie glared at him. “Not everyone is a serial killer.”
“True,” Tag said. “The problem is, they look like everyone else.”
“Seriously, you can’t go into this thinking killer.”
“And you can’t go out with just anyone. You might consider meeting your dates at a restaurant, rather than having them pick you up. That way, you don’t have to leave with them.”
Leslie stared at the nice-looking man on the screen, suddenly creeped out by the thought of him being a serial killer. “Good point. I’ll do that.”
“Are you going to go out with him?”
“I don’t see why not.” She shrugged. “I won’t know if he’s right for me until I meet him in person.”
“What? You don’t trust BODS to pick out your mate?” Tag chuckled.
“I do. I just think I’d like to meet him before I decide anything.” She clicked on the second man in the lineup.
Tag leaned over her shoulder. “Who’s next?”
Tag’s nearness caused all kinds of gooseflesh to rise on her arms. If she leaned back just a little, her back would rest against his hard chest. A shiver of desire rippled through her.
“Next?” Tag urged. “Earth to Leslie.”
Leslie gave her head a firm shake to snap out of the trance she was falling into. “Next.” She squinted at the screen. “Herman Lansing.”
“The Herman Lansing?” Tag asked.
She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “That’s what the name says on the screen. Should I know him?”
“He’s only the wealthiest car dealership owner in all of Texas.”
“So?”
“So?” Tag threw his hand in the air. “A man like that has a ton of money. He’ll likely spend it on you.”
“I don’t care about his money. All I care about is his character. Is he nice? Does he care about people and animals?” She shot a glance toward Tag. “If he’s none of those things, I want nothing to do with him.”
“He’s into fitness,” Tag said. “He’s five-feet-ten and…” He leaned closer to stare at the photo of Herman. “And he’s bald.”
“Bald can be very attractive,” Leslie defended. She stared at the photograph of the smiling man with the shiny head. “Herman is very attractive. He seems confident and fit. I’m sure he’s a nice man.”
“Moving on,” Tag reached around Leslie and commandeered the mouse, clicking on the third candidate. “Milton Koch. Now, here’s an interesting man. He’s a thriller writer. Likes taking long walks in the woods. Loves to fish and loves nature.”
“Oh, my,” Leslie said. “He’s six-feet-five-inches tall.” She shook her head. “That makes him more than a foot taller than me.”
Tag chuckled. “Not only can you wear heels with him, you can wear platform heels.”
“Again,” Leslie said. “How tall or short a man is, does not matter. It’s what’s in his heart that counts.”
“At least, he doesn’t sound like a marathon runner. You won’t have a hard time keeping up with him if all he likes to do is walk in the woods,” Tag said.
He reached around her again, this time brushing her arm with his and sending a shock of awareness throughout her body.
“What about bachelor number four?” He clicked on the link and brought up the guy’s profile. “A Mr. Joe Fox.”
Leslie leaned closer, staring at the man’s photograph. “Oh my, that is an unfortunate picture of him.”
“Maybe he’s ashamed of his face,” Tag said. “Maybe he’s tragically pock-marked from a horrible case of acne as a teen. He doesn’t want you to know that until after you get to know him online.” He raised his hands. “I know. It doesn’t matter what he looks like, as long as he’s good to the last heartbeat.”
“Exactly.” She tried to focus on the photo, but it was just too blurry to make out the man’s face. “I bet he’s kind and considerate.”
“He’d have to be, with a face like his,” Tag said. “What does his profile say about him?”
Leslie read the data on the monitor. “He says he’s six-feet-two.”
“That’s tall,” Tag said.
“But not too tall,” Leslie said. “What else?”
“He likes horseback riding,” Tag said. “That’s got to make you happy.”
Leslie nodded. “I like riding horses.
“And horses don’t care what your face looks like,” Tag said.
“Tag,” Leslie said, her tone stern.
Tag grinned. “He likes walking in the rain and dancing cheek to cheek.”
“That sounds sweet,” Leslie said.
“Ha!” Tag said. “He likes dogs. He doesn’t say anything about liking cats.”
“That doesn’t mean he hates cats,” Leslie said.
“Trust me, most guys hate cats,” Tag said. “I bet he does, too.”