"I don't know if what the press said is true, but if it is, I'm glad you stuck to your guns, young lady. That Oliver struck me as a good man. Don't give up."
"Yes, well, I hope Oliver and I will always be friends, but I don't see us being more."
Paul set a cup of hot coffee on the table in front of her and moved to the fridge. He pulled out her favorite creamer. "When did you start drinking that?"
The man smiled and shrugged. "I decided I liked it and wanted to keep some in case I got company. My Mary always said it was important to be ready for guests. Make 'em feel welcome and they'll come."
Marsali sighed, wishing Oliver had picked up on her preferences as easily as Paul seemingly had. But then, Paul had had years to acquire the training, living with the woman he'd so adored. Not to mention her preference for coffee creamer was a long ways away from her desire to keep Oliver's naked body at least mostly to herself.
They chatted a little while longer as they drank their coffee and ate the lasagna, but as the meal went on, Paul grew quiet.
"Having a broken heart is no fun but no man worth his salt causes a woman deliberate pain. If he does, then his priorities aren't in order." He tapped his head. "Something to remember."
"Careful, Paul. You're starting to sound like my family."
"Families speak the truth more often than not, even when it's hard to hear. It's done out of love."
Marsali inhaled and stared at the man who had become a good friend in the last several years. "You're right. Oliver's life in California would've been difficult for me."
"Times have changed. Back in my day, a man had to go looking for trouble if that's what he really wanted. Today, it's everywhere you look. Or," Paul added, "part of a job. You're a level-headed woman, Marsali. Your problem," he continued, "is that you're you."
"I'm sorry?"
"Your world," Paul said, "is very different than the one your Oliver lives in and some things just can't cross."
Her stomach sank because she knew it was true. Had they been doomed from the start?
The Matchmaker’s Secret: Chapter 20
Oliver tugged at the collar of the shirt he wore and prayed he could pull this off. He'd had his assistant set up the interview, but now that it was almost time to begin, his nervousness increased.
"It's time. Go to the curtains," the headset-wearing production assistant told Oliver.
Oliver made his way out of the alcove where he'd been staying out of sight and waited for the next signal.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Gwen said, "let me be honest and say it took some doing to get Marsali Jones, our matchmaker, back on our set, and we are so glad she agreed to join us, but she's not our only guest today. Please welcome Hollywood heartthrob Oliver Beck!"
Oliver walked across the set with a hand raised to the audience, but he never took his gaze off of Marsali. He saw the color drain from her face and knew she probably expected things to go south yet again.
He greeted Gwen before moving to where Marsali sat on a love seat. He held out his hands and waited for her to place her palms in his, leaning low to kiss her on the cheek. "Breathe, Marsali."
She blinked up at him and he read the shock in her expression.
"Aren't they adorable?" Gwen said to the audience. "Marsali, you're looking a little flushed. Are you okay, dear?"
"I'm… fine."
Oliver lifted her hand to his lips. "Marsali didn't realize I was going to be here," Oliver said, staring out at the camera. "It's a surprise to her."
The audience cheered and whistled; a few of them jeered.
"Now, now. We just want to know what really happened," Gwen said, smiling widely. "Oliver, tell us. How did you feel about Marsali ending things with you over what some are calling the role of a lifetime?"
"Really?" Marsali asked, her voice low and thready. "You want to do this here?"
The microphone she wore picked up her words, and the audience responded with applause and calls to have at it.
"Gwen, I was upset with Marsali, I'm not going to lie," Oliver said, gripping Marsali's hand tighter when she tried to pull away. "But once I calmed down, I realized she was only trying to look out for me, for us, and I knew I had some tough decisions to make."
"What kind of decisions?"
"Well, for one, I had to decide if that role was the best thing for me. I know it's a popular series and my fans would like to see me play the lead, but because of Marsali's upset, I questioned whether or not I should accept the role. Marsali is good at reading people, in case you don't know, and she knew instinctively that the part didn't fit me or the brand I've built over the years."
"Marsali, do you have any comment?"
"N-no," Marsali said, staring at him. "He said it w-well."
Oliver squeezed her fingers again, and for the first time since he'd arrived, Marsali's grip firmed and she held tight.
"So you won't be playing the super-sexy dominant?"
"I will not," Oliver said, shaking his head with a rueful grin. "In fact, I've spent the last week working to secure a project that takes me behind the camera rather than in front of it. It's an action series that'll be set and filmed here in Wilmington, and I'll be taking on the roles of producer and director."
Marsali's audible gasp was drowned out by those of the audience.
"Does this mean you're giving up acting?" Gwen asked.
"No. But I am going to be more selective in the acting roles I'll be taking on to focus more on indie films and the series I just mentioned so that I can spend more time on personal pursuits."
"Is this because of Marsali's upset over the nudity involved the role you were asked to play?" Gwen asked.
Oliver shook his head. "It's because when I think of the future, I don't want there to be a film my kids can't watch. Marsali opened my eyes to something I hadn't really considered, but her upset helped me see clearly that role wasn't something I'm comfortable with."
“Rumor has it you fired your agent. Is that true?”
“It is,” Oliver said. “Rikki and I haven’t agreed on quite a few things over the years and given the change in direction, I felt it was time to part ways.”
"Marsali?" Gwen said. "What do you think?"
"I'm… I don't know what to say."
"Oliver, I think it's easy to see you've rendered Marsali and all of us speechless," Gwen said. "Would now be a good time to bring out our third guest?"
"I think it would be perfect," he said, ignored Marsali's questioning look. His assistant walked out holding Ginger's leash, and he handed the leash to Oliver.
"Ginger? How did you… What's happening?" Marsali asked.
"If you weren't going to keep her, I was," Oliver said. "Ginger is the official mascot of Beck Productions." He scooped the dog up from the floor and held Ginger close while Marsali buried her face and hands in the dog's thick fur. Ginger greeted Marsali with puppy kisses and a tail wag that shook all three of them on the love seat.
"Aww, look at that," Gwen said. "Oliver, do you have any other news to share with us?"
Oliver glanced at Marsali and smiled at the dazed expression she wore. "I hope so. But that depends on Marsali."
"What?" Marsali asked, wide-eyed.
Oliver slipped out of the seat onto one knee, pulling out a Tiffany blue box. His girl was old-school romance, and since that was the case, Tiffany was the way to go. "Marsali Jones, I love you and I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?"
Marsali gasped, her eyes wide on his. "Marry?"
Oliver felt his face heat in embarrassment. He should've asked her privately, just in case. "Yes. You just heard my plans. You were right. And I can't think of anything I want to do more than marry you and have that family I mentioned. So what do you say? Will you?"
Marsali stretched out her trembling fingers, her beautiful eyes glittering with tears.
"Yes. Oh, Ollie, yes."
Oliver slid the four-carat diamond ring on Marsali's finger and leaned forward for a v
ery public celebratory kiss he couldn’t wait to take backstage and repeat.
"You heard it here first, folks," Gwen said. "Oliver Beck put a ring on it and our hometown matchmaker is gettin' married!"
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
I hope you enjoyed the MATCHMAKER’S SECRET. Be sure to check out the rest of the Make Me A Match series!
Romance Reset
Rules Of Engagement
Perfectly Mismatched
By The Book
About the Author
Kay Lyons always wanted to be a writer, ever since the age of seven or eight when she copied the pictures out of a Charlie Brown book and rewrote the story because she didn’t like the plot. Through the years her stories have changed but one characteristic stayed true— they were all romances. Each and every one of her manuscripts included a love story.
Published in 2005 with Harlequin Enterprises, Kay’s first release was a national bestseller. Kay has also been a HOLT Medallion, Book Buyers Best and RITA Award nominee. Look for her most recent novels with Kindred Spirits Publishing.
For more information regarding her work, please visit Kay at the following:
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VALENTINE’S RESCUE
Barbara McMahon
Valentine’s Rescue: Chapter 1
Jenny stopped the jeep a few feet from the cabin. The three wooden steps leading up to the porch were already covered in several inches of snow, as was everything else in sight.
“We made it,” she said to the large German Shepherd sitting attentively beside her.
Val whined to get out. He’d patiently sat through the trying drive from town without a whimper, but now that they were home, he was excited to get out and play in the snow.
“Okay, hold on. I’ll let you out in a second.”
She smiled at her companion and opened her door, quickly sliding out. He followed a half second later. She’d learned early on when she got him that he always wanted out of a car and if she didn’t move fast enough, he’d sail right over her once the door was open.
Val bounded around in the snow and barked in delight.
She laughed. She loved that dog. He brought her so much joy. More than what she expected when they were first paired up.
Taking a deep breath of the frigid air, she raised her gaze to the treetops, some branches already bending slightly with the weight of the snow. The cold, crisp air felt good. So different from the hot, dusty air of Afghanistan. Gazing around, she relished the tall evergreens, the clearing in which her small cabin sat. The silence seemed even more muted with the snow. Except for the dog running around, she could almost hear the snowflakes landing.
She loved being home. She’d been lucky to rent the cabin when she returned to Wild Cat Creek. It suited her perfectly and felt like home from the first day.
“I wish you could help me unload,” she called to Val as she pulled out four bags of groceries from the back seat.
The weather forecast had predicted a record snowfall when this blizzard moved in and she’d stocked up for several weeks. The snow was falling so thick she could hardly see more than a few dozen yards in front of her.
Jenny trudged carefully up the steps to the porch, sheltered from the snow by the overhang Putting down a couple of bags, she opened the door. The cabin was toasty warm. Quickly carrying the bags to the kitchen, she turned to bring in another load.
The large stack of firewood, protected on the porch, would last for days. The major stack of wood for the winter was close enough to the house she could shovel a path if the snow became too deep when the logs on the porch became depleted.
She had a generator for when the power went out as it often did this far from town when heavy snow or fallen trees pulled down the lines.
Two more trips and the jeep was empty. Val ran around in the snow, sticking his nose into the white stuff then tossing his head up, causing a small arc of snow that drifted in the wind. Jenny laughed again.
“Shall I throw you some snowballs?” she asked. Taking a handful of snow, she packed it into a ball and then threw it. The dog ran after it, then stopped–puzzled. He sniffed around, sticking his nose into the snow, looking for the ball.
Laughing again, Jenny played the game with him for several minutes. She tossed some gently and he’d jump up to catch them mid-air, only to bite down on them and send snow cascading from his mouth. It was several minutes before she called a halt.
“Come on, let’s go inside. The snow’s getting deeper and it’s cold and I still have to put the groceries away.”
Val trotted over and once on the porch, shook off the accumulation of snow, transforming himself from white to black.
“Glad we have this porch, or you’d be making a bigger mess inside,” she said, opening the door to let the dog in.
By the time Jenny finished putting the groceries away, she was ready for lunch. At one point that morning she’d debated staying in town to get lunch from the café, but when the snow began falling heavily, she knew she’d better get home before the roads became impassable.
A loud crack came from outside, then two muffled thumps.
Jenny froze for a split second, then dropped to all fours and scurried beneath the dining room table, her mind taking her back to the ambush in Afghanistan. She couldn’t move, she could scarcely breathe. Visions of that attack flooded her mind. Adrenaline surged, her heart pounded, and her vision was obscured as she heard the echo of the mortar rounds. Felt the incessant heat. Heard the cries of the wounded, the rounds of gunfire. She drew herself into a ball, trying to hide where there was no hiding.
Val leaned against her, sticking his face in front of hers, licking her cheek. He whimpered, pushing against her and licking her face.
Slowly the images and sounds faded. She reached for her service dog and buried her face in his thick fur, hugging him tight. Taking a deep breath, she willed her mind to come back to the present, wishing her racing heart would slow down.
The dog remained in position, leaning against her slightly, not moving until she did. Slowly her breathing returned to normal. Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw the furnishings in the cabin she rented.
She wasn’t in Afghanistan. She was in Wyoming.
She wasn’t in the Army anymore. She was home.
Safe at home.
“Stupid, huh,” she said into his fur, still clinging to her dog as the adrenaline slowly dissipated. “A tree limb probably broke dumping snow.”
She hated this. The psychiatrist at the VA hospital had told her the attacks would most likely fade over time–lots of time. Sudden loud noises seemed to trigger events. Or sensory overload if she was in a crowded noisy place. Or stress. Or nothing at all.
Jenny reviewed what she was doing to manage the PTSD and minimize triggers.
She lived alone in a quiet home tucked away in a section of a peaceful forest. Neighbors weren’t too far away, but she couldn’t hear them when she was outside.
Her trips to town were manageable. Wild Cat Creek was a small ranching community–nothing like big cities with constant noise and activity.
Her job as a private duty nurse suited her situation. Fortunately, the residents of Wild Cat Creek and nearby towns where she might be called to work knew her situation and her service dog was as welcomed as she was.
She sat back on the floor and continued to hold on to Val. He climbed into her lap, his face still studying hers.
“You aren’t exactly a lap dog,” she said as she petted him.
Taking deep breaths, she tried to orient herself. In a moment, she’d get up, fix her lunch, and be fine the rest of the day.
Or she would be when the adrenaline subsided.
She hoped.
“If I only had a second’s warning, I could prepare,” she murmured to Val.
He thumped his tail, still pinning her legs to the floor, and leaned against her slightly, giving the support she needed.
“Okay, I’m good.”
He rose and she scooted out from beneath the table. Jenny got to her feet and hugged her dog again. “Thanks for being here for me.”
She ate lunch at the round oak table to one side of the great room, gazing out the front window. The storm was fast becoming the predicted blizzard. The snow was so thick she could scarcely see the jeep.
“I know you love playing in the snow, but a quiet afternoon inside is in store for us. If it stops snowing tomorrow, we’ll play outside,” she said to Val, who was curled in front of the fireplace, his gaze on her. He wagged his tail.
Suddenly he rose, ran to the window and looked out, ears up, tail out, his full attention on something outside.
“What is it? A deer? Some old cow that broke through the fence?”
Wildlife wasn’t uncommon. Even cows sometimes wandered around due to the fact the cabin was actually on one of the large ranches in the area. Apart from this area of trees that continued upward for several miles, most of the land around Wild Cat Creek was pasture for the cattle that built the economy in the area.
Val was on alert. He didn’t move–ears forward, eyes gazing as if seeing a long distance. Then he whined, running to the door. Barking, he looked back at her.
“We’re not going outside. It’s cold, the snow’s getting too deep to walk in, and I told you we’d play tomorrow.”
Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology Page 58