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Scott Thomas is the last bachelor standing in his cirlce of friends.

Yet he puts qualifications into Matchmaker.com that no woman could possibly fulfill.

Yet one does...and she hates him.


His Love Match


It can't be him.

Diana knew him. No computer would do this to her. Not twice in one day. Diana Greer sat at the table of the local coffee shop across from Princeton University. Her usual unshakable demeanor had just taken a hit. The place was geared up for the lunch crowd, and both students and white-shirted lawyer types poured in like Christmas shoppers just before closing on December twenty-fourth. Glancing through the wall of people, her gaze darted around bodies, hoping against hope that what she looked for wouldn't be there. Her heart sank when the human sea cleared for a second and confirmation forced a groan from her throat. He had the DVD in his hand. The one they had agreed to both carry as identification. The cover photo faced her, despite his hand cutting a wedge out of the romantic couple. There was no mistake. It could be a coincidence, but Diana doubted it. It was her suggestion that they identify themselves using this method. She'd seen it in more than one movie. Usually it was a rose or a book. She hadn’t thought the suggestion would prove so close to the Hollywood version of a couple who met online actually knowing each other. She could kick herself for not insisting on a photograph before they met. But not knowing what he looked like had been intriguing, romantic even. And they were only meeting for lunch. Opinions on vanity could be judged then.

She had to get out of the shop before he saw her.

Glancing at the ceiling, she cursed the universe for its wretched sense of humor. "This is not funny," she muttered. People at a nearby table looked to see who she was talking to. She smiled quickly and dropped her head, choosing to stare at the golden liquid in her cup. Maybe there was some way she could get out without him seeing her. Diana looked side to side. She was hemmed in. The tables were very close together and crowded with patrons. She knew it would be rude to leave without talking to the man she'd spent three months corresponding with through e-mail. But if anyone deserved being stood up, it was Scott Thomas.

He looked around, stretching his neck although he already stood head and shoulders above everyone else in the place. He was obviously looking for someone--her. Diana looked down as he almost made eye contact with her. Instinctively she knew it was too late. He'd seen her. And her copy of You've Got Mail lay square and center on the table in front of the chair she saved for him--one she'd stopped three people from taking. She wished she had something to hide the DVD with, a book or scarf--even a napkin would help. But she had none of those things handy and Scott was already weaving his way through the crowd toward her.

"Diana?" He frowned, coming to stand in front of her. "Is that you?" He deliberately slipped his DVD into his suit pocket. "What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting someone for lunch?"

Of course, he knew she was meeting someone. Hadn't she told him so this very morning? Diana raised her chin and looked him in the eye. It can't be him, she told herself again, as if the thought could transform this man who’d stood in her office only an hour ago into someone else--anyone else. Just, please, God, she prayed. Not him.

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