Lazer Focused: A Jet City Billionaire Romance (The Billionaire Matchmaker Series Book 1) by Gina Robinson

Author:Gina Robinson [Robinson, Gina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Three Jays Press LLC
Published: 2016-08-25T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Ashley

Oxytocin. Ever heard of it? It's called the cuddle hormone. It could just as well be called the bonding hormone. When the hormone is present during pregnancy, the new mom will bond appropriately with her newborn. The more oxytocin in her system, the tighter she bonds. When she nurses her baby, more oxytocin, more bonding.

The same hormone is released after sex, giving rise to the theory that's why women bond with the men they sleep with. It's hormonally based. If this is true, it makes a certain sense that the more times you sleep with a man, the more you will bond with him. Especially if the sex is good. And explains why women stay with total douches they know are bad for them. Which is why many top matchmakers recommend holding off on sleeping with a prospective mate for as long as possible. Giving yourself time to get to know him and determine whether he exhibits any deal-breaking qualities. Why handicap yourself too early and set yourself up for more possible heartbreak than necessary?

So maybe the cuddle hormone was to blame for me having Lazer Grayson on the brain. Maybe during all those years of going without sex it had built up to an extreme level, just waiting to be released by the first man I slept with. Which didn't explain why I hadn't bonded all the much with my vibrator.

In any case, I'd left him my business card. Which had my cell number on it. And, yeah, I may have charged out like I didn't care. But that was a classic leave-the-door-open move. Text me, maybe. Guys don't call the next day. Lazer was savvy enough to know that.

But it was good manners to text after you slept with someone. Although there was that sticky bit from me about how this was just a hookup. Hookups didn't demand it.

And so I spent the flight home oddly optimistic that when I took my phone off airplane mode, I'd have a text from him. Something flirty and noncommittal. No such luck. Which should have been a relief. But wasn't. I was so horrible at following my own advice.

Instead, I had a desperate text from one of my Sweethartes, Miss Understanding, wanting advice about the date she'd had last night. I gave all of my Sweetharte's private code names. It helped me remember them better. At any given time, I personally handled around a hundred clients. And helped my two apprentice matchmakers with theirs. And screened new ones with my assistant's help. That was a lot of people to remember. And a lot of handholding to do. Many of my Sweethartes wanted complete confidentiality. They were embarrassed to be seeing a matchmaker, as if they'd failed at one of life's basics—finding a mate. The nicknames preserved their privacy in case we were ever overheard.

Miss Understanding was so understanding of her matches' flaws and problems that if I'd been less kind, I would have named her Miss Doormat. But that wasn't me.

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