"Okay, Ms. Expert, how do I do that with you?"
The Matchmaker’s Secret: Chapter 7
Marsali was saved from having to respond by their food order arriving. By the time the awestruck waitress delivered their meals and drinks, asked if they needed anything else, and lingered to the point of Oliver stating softly that he'd call her over if they needed her, the moment had passed. She hoped.
Because why give that kind of personal insight to a man who wasn't actually interested? "Oh, my word. I needed this," she said after taking a huge bite of her perfectly grilled mushroom burger.
Oliver dug in as well and they ate in silence for several minutes. Those seated inside the restaurant continued to shoot looks in their direction, but after a while, Marsali focused on her food and the man seated opposite her and nothing else. It was like a game, she realized. Though not one she was sure she wanted to play. Especially long term.
You only have yourself to blame.
She mentally groaned at the reminder. Maybe she should have used Mac's suggestion of stating her "relationship" with Oliver was in the past. Then the pretense wouldn't be necessary.
But it also wouldn't be nearly as fun.
It was her truth and she had to own it. The reason she'd said Oliver's name as her perfect match was because, to her, he was. Lock, stock, and barrel. Kind, considerate. Too gorgeous for words. But in that sense, he was the kind of gorgeous that made her nervous because of the attention it garnered from other women. Her mother was right—gah, she hated to admit it but it was true—Oliver's looks and career had a dark side.
But when it's a fake relationship, there's nothing to worry about.
And that was something she really had to keep repeating to herself and remember, otherwise when this was over and Ollie flew back to California, she was going to have a whole other problem on her hands—that of recovering from a broken heart. Because, truth be told, where Ollie was concerned, it could happen and she knew it.
"Hey. Where'd you go?"
The question forced her to focus and she managed a smile. "Sorry. I didn't sleep well and I think I zoned out."
"I'll try not to take that statement to heart as a reflection of my company."
She grinned at him and felt her heart squeeze a bit in return. "I don't think your ego needs stroking in that regard."
"Hmm. Debatable where you're concerned."
Wait, what?
"And don't think I didn't notice that you haven't answered my question yet. So tell me, how does one court a matchmaker? What does a man need to know about you?"
Staring into his dark eyes and that sexy scruff, she faltered. "Uh-uh. That's cheating."
"I have to find out on my own, eh?"
She shrugged and took a french fry she only let herself have when she ate here. Halfway to her lips, she second-guessed the choice given the fact the camera added ten pounds, and in the next few weeks, she'd undoubtedly be scrutinized for everything as Oliver's other half. "Um, any man worth his salt has to make the effort. We can't make it too easy on you—er, the man."
He cocked his head to one side and watched her.
"Eat that."
"Excuse me?"
"I can practically hear the debate from over here. Life is too short not to splurge here and there."
"That is not what my jeans say."
"Yeah, well, I'll argue that as a man, because the view I get is perfect."
Marsali felt her cheeks begin to heat, and she hated that she wore her embarrassment as boldly as she did her skinny jeans. "The camera adds weight, and so long as I'm hanging out with you, there are going to be a lot of cameras."
He snagged a fry from her plate and dipped it in ketchup before holding it up to her, and she was aware of the fact a few people in the restaurant held a phone pointed toward them. No doubt that was why Oliver did what he did, and in this moment, she needed to play along. "Fine."
She opened her mouth and let him feed her, forcing herself to focus on him and not the awws she heard from coming from another table that were soon followed by sighs and other comments. "You know that'll be posted on social media before we can leave here."
"Then we'd better get going before word gets out we're here. Finish up."
She took a few more bites before declaring herself done and watched as Oliver left a generous tip on the table. They gathered up coats and headed toward the door, and Marsali realized she was alone because Oliver had paused by the cashier and handed her a card the girl scanned with adoring eyes.
"Here you go."
"Thanks. If anyone says anything, just tell them it was a thank you for letting us eat in peace."
He quickly ushered her out the door and to the car, and once inside, she stared at him. "You paid for everyone's food."
"Times are hard and there were several families in there with young kids. Hopefully it helps them. Seat belt."
She shook her head and grabbed the belt to latch it, wondering if Oliver would ever cease to appeal to her on levels he probably wasn't even aware of. But the whole nice-guy thing? Yeah, that was one of her boxes and he'd just checked it. "Now what?"
His phone pinged as though in response to her question, and Oliver pulled the device from his jacket pocket. He frowned at whatever it said before tucking it away.
"You up for a walk on the beach? The wind will be cold, but I haven't seen the surf since the last time I was here."
"Well, we need to fix that then. I'm always up for a walk on the beach." The wind off the water would leave her shivering, but sunshine and sand always lifted her mood and soothed frayed nerves.
Oliver got them moving once more and she found herself watching him drive. He took his time and wasn't one of those men gunning the engine every time he could or weaving in and out of traffic.
"Do you remember when I picked you up at that party in Wrightsville? You were… seventeen, I think?"
She groaned aloud and sank deeper into the passenger seat. "As much as I'd like to forget that night, yes, I remember. Mac was on a date, and I was panicking because I needed to get home for curfew and my friend had ditched me. I didn't know who else to call. Why?"
He was quiet a long time. So long she turned her head from the passing scenery to take in the profile Hollywood so loved. "What made you think of that night?"
"This, I guess. I'm glad you called me that night. And I'm glad you said my name in that interview."
His words brought a smile to her lips. "Yeah, well, I'm glad you've been so understanding considering the circumstances and craziness I've caused. Thank you, Ollie. I hope we'll always be friends. No matter what the future brings."
He stretched out his hand to grasp hers and carried it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "You don't have to do that when no one else is around."
His fingers tightened over hers before he released them.
"Right. Sorry."
Silence descended and she hated that she'd broken the ease of the moment. "Just staying in character, right?"
Of course he was. Oliver was an amazing actor. She'd been blown away the first time she'd seen him on-screen, and he'd only gotten better with every role since. No matter the part, the viewer felt the emotions portrayed.
And now here he was again, playing a role for her. But fact and fiction were wholly different, and it would be way too easy to allow herself to forget. To fall for the kisses and hand-holding and such when she would always be in the friend zone.
They had to keep up the illusion for those watching, but here, when they were alone, she needed to keep a proper distance to balance out the drugging kisses and those bedroom eyes of his.
She had to be realistic. People balked at her single status, thinking a single matchmaker didn't know her business. She could only imagine what they'd think if she were a brokenhearted— "Oh, no."
"What? Something wrong?"
Panic filled her. Why hadn't she thought of that sooner? "What have we done?"
"Marsali?"
"What will be worse?"
"This! We were so focused on the now we didn't talk about the future. Once we call things off, everyone will wonder why I couldn't keep you a-and make you happy. Why you left. Oh, why did we leave the house? I didn't think this through. Ollie, we've made a huge mistake."
The Matchmaker’s Secret: Chapter 8
They went for a walk on the beach, and all the while, Oliver held her hand and reassured Marsali that everything was going to be okay. He managed to calm her panic attack by reminding her that they could only move forward, not back. And that Gwen had used the interview for sensationalism.
According to Oliver, nothing she'd said then or could say now would change public perception. As to what would happen when things ended, they'd come up with a plan to minimize the damage.
When they arrived back at her house, Marsali noted the reporters had returned, though they were fewer in number after receiving the guarantee of personal interviews. "Will they ever go away?"
"Free press is a plus. You said business is picking up, yeah?"
"Yes. Speaking of which, I've avoided my computer way too long. I should check in and see how things are going."
"Mind if I hang around? I can take care of Ginger for you while you work."
She smiled at him but shook her head in bemusement. "You wouldn't rather hang out with Mac?"
"I'm not dating Mac, sweetheart."
Ah. Yet another needed reminder that this was part of a role. "Of course. Come on in."
They exited the car and questions from the reporters bombarded them once again on the way inside. She'd just unlocked the front door when she heard one of them call out, louder than the others.
"Oliver, you've dated your share of women. What makes Marsali special?"
Marsali felt Oliver's hand tighten on her shoulder as he urged her inside.
"She just is. Now go home," he said. "We'll talk soon."
The moment the door shut behind them, Marsali breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't know how you deal with that everywhere you go."
"After a while, you don't see them anymore."
"Not possible," she said, removing her coat to hang it in the hall closet. She held out her hand for his, and Oliver took the hanger she held, their fingers brushing in the exchange.
A tingle raced through her, but she blamed it on her frazzled nerves and not anything remotely sexual.
Ginger heard their return and now barked and whined from inside her kennel, and Marsali used that as her excuse for hurrying by Oliver.
"I'll take Ginger out back to play. You go do what you need to do."
She paused, very aware of the fact this felt like a couple moment. Coming home, caring for Ginger. Even hanging their coats. It felt… intimate. "Thanks. But, um, watch her to make sure she potties. Oh, and she's still small enough to squeeze through the panels into Paul's yard if his gate is open. She's become quite the escape artist."
"I'll keep an eye on her."
Marsali forced her feet into motion and reminded herself that this—all of this—would be over very soon. She'd deal with whatever fallout came from it and mitigate what she could. It's all she could do.
She checked her computer and groaned at the number of messages from Claire. Her part-time assistant was quite capable, but apparently the majority of the callers insisted on speaking only to Marsali.
So were they future clients? Or reporters? How many were journalists pretending to be clients to get info she might unintentionally reveal? She hadn't considered that until this very moment, but it was probably something she would have to contend with in the next few weeks.
She heard Oliver exit the house with Ginger and glanced out the window to see the two of them playing in the yard. Oliver's easygoing grin as he hopped away from Ginger's playful paws as the dog chased after him left her sighing. The man really needed to come with a warning label. Caution: will cause unrealistic fantasies.
Because what woman wouldn't want to see him in her home every day? Across from the dinner table? In her bed?
Her cell pinged and she flipped it over to stare at the screen.
I don't agree with what you're doing but I'm here if you need me.
She tapped on the screen to open the texting window and replied to Mac. I love you, too.
You and Oliver are all over social media. Nice lunch?
She winced at the news but knew it was bound to happen. Great lunch. The fries were delicious.
Maybe that last line wasn't necessary, but if Mac was going to dish it out, she had to give a little back. It wouldn't be normal if she didn't.
Just be careful. It might seem fun now, but there could be consequences you haven't considered.
An uneasy knot twisted in her stomach. Like?
Just be careful.
The door to the living room opened, and Oliver entered and called Ginger inside. The dog quickly tumbled over Oliver's feet and then sat, staring up at him with adoring eyes and a big puppy grin. Oh, not good.
Even her dog was falling for Ollie.
Still, she doubted Ginger was what Mac referenced when he'd issued the warning.
OLIVER DISCOVERED he liked the quiet peace of spending the evening with Marsali. The last time he was in town was for his friends' parents' anniversary dinner, and while he'd seen and spent time with Marsali, it was mostly from a distance due to all the party preparations.
She'd looked amazing that night in an off-the-shoulder sundress. He'd never realized how sexy collarbones could be until he'd found himself wanting to know more about hers.
He'd managed to snag a few dances with her during the course of the night, but she had proven as popular as he had when it came to the other singles in the room.
A little while later, Oliver rolled to his feet after gently nudging Ginger aside and stood, earning Marsali's attention. "You're working hard over there."
"Sorry. I can't believe how many emails have come in. I'm trying to help my assistant schedule everything. I'm just not sure when there will be time, because no one wants to wait. I'll have to put Ginger into doggy day care because I'll be gone so much."
He smiled to himself, pleased that, if nothing else, his presence had helped her business. Not that she needed much help. Marsali had proven herself over the years as a smart, capable woman. But just as quickly, a thought formed and he frowned. "Does your assistant go with you for the interviews?"
"No, why?"
He opened his mouth to comment but quickly decided to apologize later rather than argue about the phone call he planned to make to Guardian Group. While he'd like to think all of the people were legitimate and genuinely looking for dating help, he had to consider the alternative and be proactive. "Just wondering. I'm getting hungry again. Would you mind if I check out the fridge? I could grill us something or order delivery if you'd rather."
Her eyes widened when she glanced at the clock on the wall.
"Oh, wow. I had no idea it was getting so late. I've really been a bad host."
"Not at all. Ginger and I have had fun. On that last trip, we, un, visited with Paul for a bit."
"She got away from you, didn't she?"
He grinned at her and shrugged. "I think Paul liked having the company."
"I'm sure he did. I can't forget that lasagna," she said, grabbing a notepad to make a note of it.
He watched her and thought of how good the world would be if everyone was as kind and considerate as Marsali. "You know, I rarely get evenings where I just get to hang out and relax. Thank you for that."
Marsali tilted her head to one side as she regarded him, and he found himself moving closer, simply because he couldn't help himself.
"Is it so hard being a super-hot Hollywood movie star?"
He laughed softly due to the twinkling he saw in her eyes. That teasing, that grin made him want to kiss her and not stop anytime soon. "Depends on your definition of hard. I've sacrificed certain freedoms, for sure. Like ninety p
ercent of my privacy." And a bit of safety, which was why he'd be calling to see if Denz was available. If not Denz, then someone else.
"Wow. Way to sell it," she said wryly.
"I make it work," he said simply, clapping his hands together and rubbing. "Now, food. I'm in the mood to whip up something that'll make your toes curl. Any special requests before I head back to my hotel?"
The Matchmaker’s Secret: Chapter 9
The following evening, Oliver let himself into the unlocked back door of the closed gym. He had dropped Marsali off at her house after dinner at a local cafe and realized during their time there that he needed to step up his game in his role as her boyfriend after spotting the restaurant's decorations.
Valentine's Day rapidly approached, and given the circumstances and press they were receiving, he knew people were paying attention. No way could the day go by without some highly visible romancing. Marsali's matchmaker career made it doubly important. Not that he minded.
Once Marsali had completed the things she needed to do that day, he'd insisted on taking her and Ginger for a walk on the beach before the sun set.
He didn't think either of them were recognizable with their sunglasses and toboggan hats on to combat the cold breeze off of the water, but he wanted Marsali to know that life could be fairly normal. In LA he went grocery shopping and ran his own errands. With so many celebrities in one location, it was the norm.
The walk was nice. Oliver focused on the simple pleasures of watching Ginger play in the sand and holding Marsali's hand. The feel of her small palm in his had been a blessing and a curse, and in the silence of the drive to the gym, he realized it was because somewhere along the way he'd stopped pretending.
Or, more likely, he'd never started.
Touching her, kissing her had brought every thought he'd ever had about her to the surface. He found himself struggling to remember this was a temporary situation and not something he could allow himself to get used to, whereas Marsali didn't seem to have that problem. She'd made several comments about his impending return to Hollywood as well as the roles she believed they both played.
Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology Page 51