Miss Match

by Lindzee Armstrong

  “Right on time,” she said, shutting the door. “I’ve got your file all pulled up—”

  He crushed her to him in a hug, knocking the wind out of her. She didn’t mind, though. Not even a little bit. Instead she melted against him, without consciously giving herself permission to do so.

  “I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

  Brooke stiffened, pushing him away. “You can’t keep saying that.”

  “It’s true. I’ll keep saying it every time I see you, whether you like it or not.”

  Brooke swallowed, her brain jumping from outrage to jittery happiness quickly enough to make her nauseous. She couldn’t even think clearly enough to pick out which rule he was violating. The best course of action was probably to ignore him.

  She sat down, pulling her laptop toward her. “On a scale of one to ten, ten being the highest, how would you rate your physical attraction to Michelle?”

  “You can’t avoid me forever.”

  Brooke curled her fingers against the keyboard. “Please, I’m working right now. Just answer the question.”

  “A three.”

  “A three?” Brooke stared at him in disbelief. She had worked hard to find a good match for Luke, despite her growing misgivings. “Michelle is beautiful. She’s cultured and well-educated.”

  “I agree.”

  “She’s perfect relationship material.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then why aren’t you attracted to her?”

  “Because I’m in love with you.”

  She gritted her teeth. He was impossible. “Stop it. You don’t get to do this right now.”

  “When would be a better time for you?”

  Never. She’d just keep ignoring him. Maybe he’d get the hint eventually. “Okay, you were only attracted to her on a three. Next question—what do you feel was the best part of your date?”

  “The part where she told me she hoped I could win you over, and if she loved someone as much as I clearly love you, she’d fight for that person.”

  Brooke slammed the lid closed on her laptop. “You talked to Michelle about me?” Her hands trembled as she set her laptop on the coffee table. She was worried she’d throw it across the parlour if she didn’t. “What if the press finds out about that? I could get fired. Toujour could be ruined.”

  “We were discreet, and the conversation only lasted a minute at most.”

  “You’re undermining my efforts to save the company.”

  “I can’t deal with this right now.” Her foot tapped against the floor at a rapid pace.

  “I will do anything to convince you we’re meant to be together.”

  “We aren’t meant to be together. I’m meant to be with Antonio.” The suspicious earring flashed into her mind, but she pushed it aside.

  “I believe you love Antonio. But he can’t live up to the eight years of history we’ve had together. He wasn’t there for your graduation from high school, or college. He didn’t take you to the winter formal or senior prom. You didn’t spend spring break in Miami Beach with him. He wasn’t the one who comforted you after your parents’ divorce and at your grandpa’s funeral. A relationship, a life together, is made up of memories. And we have a thousand of those.”

  Brooke wanted to put a shoe through the pewter gray wall. “Yeah, we have those memories. But I have a lot of other memories, Luke. Memories of the women I found you with when I stopped by with donuts on Saturday mornings in college. Memories of finding you necking in the corner of some club. Memories of you flirting with me, and making me feel like the only girl in the world, only to turn around and do the exact same thing with someone you’d just met.” Brooke lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “If you love me so much, why have you spent most of the last eight years sleeping with other women?”

  He blinked, clearly taken aback by that question. “I …”

  “You can’t answer that, can you? I love you, Luke. I do. And our friendship means everything to me. But I can’t love you like that.”

  “I haven’t been with another woman in months. I’m changing.”

  “Prove it.” She stood and grabbed her laptop. “This meeting is over. With Christmas, it’ll be a week or so before I can find you another date. I’ll let you know.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  She was on a beach with Luke. He looked glorious in his swim trunks. A wave crashed into his legs, and Brooke laughed as he grimaced at the shock of cold. His bronzed skin glistened in the sun, and rivulets of water ran down his well-defined abs.

  “Come in,” he called, motioning to her.

  Brooke shrank against her beach towel, warm from the sun. “No way.”

  “Don’t make me come get you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He sloshed through the water, making his way back to shore. Brooke shrieked and leapt up, running away. Luke caught her around the waist and she laughed. He threw her over his shoulder and headed toward the ocean while she giggled and protested the whole way.

  “Buon natale, mia dolcezza.” Warm lips caressed her cheek.

  Brooke’s eyes popped open. Antonio leaned over her, smiling. His curls were messy and matted down on one side, evidence that he’d just woken up himself. The plum colored sheets were soft underneath her skin, the beige walls familiar.

  She wasn’t on a beach with Luke. She was in her own bedroom with Antonio. Her cheeks heated as she recalled the dream. What was wrong with her?

  It’s just a stupid dream, she told herself. It meant nothing. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back. “Merry Christmas.”

  “I made you breakfast,” he said. “An American breakfast, even. Cinnamon rolls.”

  “Sounds delicious.” Her heart pricked with guilt. Antonio was perfect. So why was she pining over Luke?

  They spent a leisurely morning together, just the two of them. Zoey had gone home to San Diego for a few days, and so they had the apartment to themselves. After breakfast they sat around the small Christmas tree and opened presents, then they called their families. Brooke’s mom had elected to go to Mexico with a recently widowed friend, and Brooke wasn’t ready to spend a major holiday with her dad.

  After they hung up with Antonio’s family in Italy, they settled down to watch Christmas movies. When the third one was over, Brooke rose and stretched. She’d been sitting too long. She grabbed the bowl of popcorn and headed to the kitchen.

  Antonio followed with their glasses. “Have you had a good Christmas?” he asked.

  “I have.” Brooke gave him a quick kiss, then opened the dishwasher and put the bowl and glasses inside. “Have you?”

  “Sì.”

  Brooke smiled and started the dishwasher. She rinsed out a rag and started wiping down the counters.

  “The gallery’s pushing for an answer. They want me in Rome by March first.”

  Brooke tossed the rag in the sink and stared at Antonio. “I thought they were willing to wait until after the wedding.”

  He looked away. “This is my career we’re talking about. I’ve worked my whole life for this type of opportunity.”

  “And I’ve worked my whole life for my career. A career that brought you and me together, I might add.”

  Antonio leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “That’s not fair. Charlotte’s already offered to transfer you to Rome. If I stay here, I’ll never be the gallery’s top seller. They’ll find another artist, one who’s close by and easier to work with, and start promoting him. I won’t make it if we stay.”

  But I won’t be happy if we move.

  The realization hit like a ton of bricks. I’m an idiot. She had thought her hesitation was due to Toujour and the unexpected timing. But the reason she wouldn’t be happy in Italy would be because Luke wouldn’t be there.

  She squeezed her eyes shut tight. Luke, who claimed to be in love with her. Luke, who had put forth his best foot on every Toujour date. Who was working twelve hour days to try to revive Ryd
er Communications. Who, now that she thought about it, didn’t drink anymore.

  He’s changing.

  “Brooke?”

  She blinked, bringing Antonio and the black IKEA cabinets he stood in front of back into focus. “Do we have to talk about this today? It’s Christmas.”

  “Time’s running out.”

  She blew out a breath and nodded. “You’re right. Let’s talk about it.” She walked around the counter and to the square dining room table, with its four mismatched chairs. Eclectic, Zoey called them.

  Brooke pulled back a chair, and Antonio did the same. She pushed the table centerpiece aside—a square glass vase with artificial lilies—so that it didn’t obstruct his face.

  “Why don’t you want to move?” Antonio asked.

  “Toujour is doing great right now. Our clientele is growing like crazy, and Charlotte said we’re finally in the black. How can I turn down my dream promotion to move to Italy? I might wait years before I can become head of the office there.” She felt like a liar for not admitting her true reservations. But not wanting to move away from Luke didn’t mean she wanted a relationship with him beyond what they already had.

  “How can I tell the gallery I’m staying in Los Angeles for my wife’s job?”

  The words were a sucker punch to the gut. “My job isn’t as important as yours,” Brooke said.

  He fiddled with the flower arrangement. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “You said if I let you do this thing with Luke, you would consider Italy.”

  Brooke spread her fingers wide on the table, pressing them into the smooth wood. Trying to keep herself from screaming. “Yeah, consider it. And I have. But my life is here. My parents. My half-siblings.”

  “Luke.”

  Brooke sucked in a breath and held it. “Yeah. And Luke.”

  Antonio stood with a curse. “Once again you are putting your friendship with him first.”

  “It’s not just him. It’s everything.” Brooke ran a hand through her hair. “You sprung this on me without warning. We had plans I was counting on. You can’t move up our timeline five years and expect me to grin and say ‘let’s do it.’ This is my home.”

  “And Italy is mine.” He sat back down, this time next to her. “Just like your family is here, my family is there. My genitori. My nonni and fratelli. And now my job is there.” He rubbed the back of her neck with one hand.

  She leaned forward, resting her head on the table. She closed her eyes as he slowly worked out the knots at the base of her skull. Seventy-one percent compatible. Luke was messing with her head, and she couldn’t let him. She and Antonio were meant for each other.

  “The only thing not in Italy is you,” Antonio said.

  His words sank in, and Brooke didn’t like what her head told her she must do. Antonio seemed to sense she was at the breaking point, because he kept talking.

  “You will love Rome. We can do all the things we talked about … visit the sites, eat gelato. The studio will help us find housing and get settled. You can still work for Toujour. You’d probably even like it better there—Italians love a good matchmaker.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and Brooke let out an involuntary laugh. “I probably even have cousins who would want to sign on as clients.”

  “What about the wedding?”

  He kissed her temple. “I’ve already promised we can get married here, in California. Planning will be more difficult from Italy, but not impossible. And we can take our honeymoon in Paris instead of Mexico.”

  “That’s not fair.” Brooke gave him a teasing kiss. “You shouldn’t get to bribe me with Parisian honeymoons.”

  “I want us to be happy. And I know we can be happy in Italy.”

  Brooke played with Antonio’s hands, tracing the flecks of paint there. “I thought we were happy here.”

  He flipped his hands so they were holding hers and squeezed. “We are happy, mia dolcezza. But we’ll be even happier there.”

  “When do they want an answer by?”

  “New Year’s.”

  Brooke’s stomach tightened. “That’s only a week away.”

  “I know. I can probably hold them off another week past that.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to get used to the idea. Italy. She pictured a small apartment over a bakery. Holding hands as they perused a produce stand. Having Antonio’s parents over for Christmas Eve dinner. It was a nice picture, one she could get used to. Except Luke wouldn’t be there. No more seeing each other almost daily. Lives lived apart.

  Antonio or Luke. She was going to have to pick one or the other.

  Antonio brushed a curl out of his eyes, a grin touching the corners of his mouth. “C’mon, let’s watch another movie.”

  She hoped she could live with her choice.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Brooke rubbed her eyes, feeling the sting from staring too long at a computer screen.

  Four first dates. In the last week, Luke had been on four first dates and no second dates. The press was eating it up, but they had started to speculate the reason Luke hadn’t made it to date number two was because of Brooke.

  Brooke scrolled through the database again, trying to block out the noise of Lianna’s incessantly ringing phone at reception. She had to find someone Luke would like. She prayed she wouldn’t. Things were such a jumbled mess. She wanted to rewind time to before Luke confessed his love, before Rick’s cancer and death, when things had been easy and simple.

  Do you want to rewind before Antonio, too?

  No. Despite how hard Luke had tried to convince her otherwise, she was grateful to have Antonio in her life.

  Zoey sank into her desk chair, a big grin on her face. “Lianna said she just entered forty new clients into the database.”

  “Forty more this morning?”

  Zoey nodded. “You’re a genius, Brooke. Our numbers are up nearly eight hundred percent since November. And it’s all thanks to your brilliant idea and Luke’s willingness to play along.”

  Brooke rubbed her temples. “Great,” she said, voice flat.

  Zoey frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Luke is what’s wrong. Again.” Brooke motioned to the computer screen. “Over three hundred women, and I can’t find one I think Luke will go on a second date with. If he doesn’t stick with one for a while soon, the press is going to think Toujour doesn’t work.”

  “Run his profile against yours. I bet you’re a perfect match.”

  Brooke glared. “Not funny.”

  “Hit refresh.” Zoey spun around to face her own computer. “Maybe one of the new girls will be his fake match.”

  “Haha.” But Brooke did as Zoey suggested and started going through the list of new women.

  And that’s when she saw her. Andi, a socialite with wealthy parents and a law degree. She was beautiful, with dark blonde hair and tanned skin. Brooke clicked, opening up her hobbies. Tennis, spin classes, and old movies. There wasn’t a lot to go on yet, since Andi hadn’t completed the intake appointment and therefore hadn’t filled out her complete profile. But she looked promising.

  “Looks like she’s been assigned to me,” Zoey said. Her face practically rested on Brooke’s shoulder.

  Brooke jumped, putting a hand to her chest. “Don’t do that.”

  “Sorry.” Zoey looked unrepentant. Her arms were folded across her chest and she still peered over Brooke’s shoulder at the computer screen.

  “Yeah, she is your client,” Brooke said. “Looks like you have your first appointment scheduled with her today.”

  “Want me to see if she’s interested in a date with Luke?”

  No. “Feel her out to see if she’d be a good match first, since we don’t have much to go on yet. But yeah.” Brooke’s gut told her Andi and Luke would get along very well.

  “I’ll make sure to let her know it’s strictly for show and Luke is off limits.”

  “Zoey!”

  “Wha
t? He is. At least until you figure out what you’re going to do.”

  “I’ve already figured out what I’m going to do,” Brooke said. “Talk to Andi.”

  *

  “I don’t know if I can do it, Mitch.” Luke ran the miniature rake through his tabletop Zen garden, creating abstract designs in the sand.

  Mitch clapped Luke on the back in sympathy. “Another blind date?”

  “Yeah.” Luke dropped the rake and ran a hand through his hair. “These dates are killing me.” Christmas had been bad enough, with uncharacteristically impersonal gifts exchanged between him and Brooke. And it had been a hard day without his father. He’d been on four first dates since the holidays, bringing his total up to six. Four dates in a week. It had been exhausting. The women had been nice enough, but none of them were Brooke.

  “Who’s up this time?” Mitch asked. He grabbed two sodas from the mini fridge and slid one across the desk to Luke. The sunlight streaming in from the window glinted off the aluminum can, momentarily blinding him.

  Luke popped the top and took a swig, blinking to clear his vision. “Her name’s Andi. She’s a lawyer from a socialite family. Brooke seems confident.” His shoulders hunched. He didn’t want Brooke to be confident. He wanted her to set him up with horrible women she knew he would hate and never want a relationship with.

  But it hadn’t happened. There was nothing really wrong with any of the girls. They just weren’t the girl for him.

  “Where’s the date this time?” Mitch asked.

  Luke made a face. “Ice skating. It’s supposed to be romantic or some crap like that.” He motioned to the stack of blueprints in front of him. “Tell the Talia Team I’ve signed off on these and they can get to work running the final test cycles tomorrow. We’re already a week behind schedule, and we can’t delay the relaunch any longer.”

  Mitch nodded, making a note on his tablet. “I’ll do that before I leave tonight.”

  “Thanks.” Luke rose, slipping into his coat. “I still need to go home and change. If I don’t leave now I’ll be late, and Brooke will hate that.”

  Ice skating. Honestly, what was Brooke thinking? The whole thing was a little too romantic.