The Billionaire's Matchmaker: An Indulgence Anthology (Entangled Indulgence)

by Barbara Wallace

  “Yeah, well given Charlie’s penchant for getting out and visiting the ladies, it’s irresponsible to, um, leave the family jewels intact. Dogs aren’t like us. They don’t bother to use protection.”

  He’d been speaking in general terms when he’d said us, but color flooded Mia’s face. She hadn’t been shy when it came to sex, so her blush made Gid wonder if she was remembering how good it had been between them. God help him, he was. He cleared his throat.

  “If you talk to Bonaparte, you might mention it.”

  “That’s not likely, but sure.”

  She took a seat on a wheeled stool while Gid finished the checkup. Fifteen minutes later, Charlie was off the table and at the door whining, clearly eager to put the clinic behind him.

  Mia stood to go, but Gideon wasn’t quite done.

  “He’s healthy, but I see from his chart that he’s gained a few pounds since his last visit.” Tapping the clipboard, he added, “You might want to lay off the treats.”

  At the mention of the T-word, the pooch turned into a canine hurricane, twirling in ever-widening circles as he yipped excitedly. He knocked over the stainless steel trashcan, sent the wheeled stool Mia had been sitting on flying across the room, and was up and over the examining table three times before they were able to corral him.

  Gideon lifted the dog and placed him in Mia’s arms. One of his hands brushed her breast in the process, the touch so light and brief it shouldn’t have mattered. They all went still, even Charlie.

  I miss you. He almost said it out loud. He almost leaned in, kissed those full lips of hers that knew how to drive him insane whenever they left his mouth.

  “Why?” Mia whispered softly. Her eyes were clouded with confusion. At Gideon’s frown, she blinked and he recognized the walls being erected once more. Her tone was no longer quite so reedy when she asked, “Why is there a for sale sign out front?”

  Irritated, he replied, “Because I’m selling.”

  She frowned at the obvious and a line of impatience formed between her brows. There had been a time when Gideon would have been quick to smooth it away with the tip of one finger before moving on to the other tense parts of her body. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat now and allowed them to curl into fists.

  “You’re selling the clinic?”

  “My house, too.”

  “Why?” she asked again. Her tone was bewildered now. Hurt? He wanted to think so. Hell, his ego demanded it.

  “We talked about this before Christmas,” he reminded her. “The job offer out west.” No small suburban clinic like this one but a big state-of-the-art facility tied to a prestigious university where he not only would have access to the latest research and advances in veterinary medicine, but be an adjunct professor. He’d been willing to pass it up before. Willing—hell, happy—to stay in Chandler’s Cove. But now…

  His tone was hollow when he added, “There’s nothing to keep me here, Mia. You made sure of that.”

  Chapter Two

  The spray of freesia refused to cooperate. Instead of simply plucking it out, Mia scuttled the entire arrangement and started from scratch. It was the third time she’d done so in the past hour.

  “You do realize those flowers are slated for the afternoon delivery,” Loretta Faust said from the doorway. At nearly sixty, the owner of the Posy Peddler remained active and healthy, but she no longer wanted to work the long hours the business required. She left those to Mia, who was only too happy to oblige, since she wanted to call the shop her own one day.

  And since she no longer had Gid to spend her evenings with.

  “I just want it to be perfect.”

  “It was fine the way it was.”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t perfect,” Mia replied.

  Loretta sent her gaze skyward. They’d had this argument before. “Just make sure it gets on the truck, okay?”

  On the floor at Mia’s feet, Charlie snorted softly before settling his head on his front paws.

  “Not you, too,” she told the dog. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting things to be just right.”

  Half an hour later, she was placing the last sprig of greenery when she heard the floor boards creak.

  “All done,” she announced with a grin, pleased with her handiwork. When she looked up, however, it wasn’t Loretta or the deliveryman who stood in the doorway. It was Gideon.

  Her smile faded, and just for a moment she regretted that she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She dipped her head, allowing her hair to fall forward, partially obscuring her face from view. From behind the long fringe of the bangs she was growing out, she said, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Indeed, after their exchange at the veterinarian clinic the previous week, she figured he would go as far out of his way to avoid seeing her as she had to avoid seeing him.

  “Yeah, I got that when you frowned.” Charlie was on his feet, his wiry, white tail wagging madly as he trotted over to Gid to have his ears scratched. To the dog he said, “At least someone is happy to see me.”

  “So, what brings you here?” she asked.

  Charlie had flopped down on his back, and Gid was down on one knee, giving the dog’s belly a thorough rub. Without looking up, he said, “My mom’s birthday is next week.”

  “What? No big family dinner?” she asked before she could think better of it.

  Gid’s family made the Waltons look dysfunctional. And even as she’d yearned to be part of such a loving, tight-knit clan, every time Mia had been in their company she’d been all the more aware of her own family’s shortcomings.

  “Actually, Sue is having everyone over,” he replied, referring to his older sister. “But I’ve got to fly to San Diego to finalize some details at the new facility, so I won’t make it. I’m taking Mom out for dinner when I get back, but I wanted to send a bouquet to the house.”

  The new facility. His dream job. The reminder of what awaited him on the West Coast caused her tone to be sharper than she intended when she said, “You could have ordered flowers over the phone.”

  “I could have.” He did look up now. His tone was full of challenge when he asked, “Do you have a problem seeing me, Mia?”

  “No. Why would I have a problem seeing you?” Okay, that came out defensive.

  He straightened and stepped closer, leaving only the stainless steel prep table to separate them. Even with flowers perfuming the air, she caught a hint of the aftershave she’d given him for his birthday the previous fall. He was dressed in wrinkled cargo shorts and a faded T-shirt that sported the name of his college alma mater. It was just her bad luck that her mind decided to replay a scene from the previous summer when she’d helped him out of that very shirt.

  They’d gotten caught in a downpour, after which they’d stumbled into her house, laughing and drenched. Gid had taken one look at the thin fabric plastered against her body and sobered. He’d traced a circle around one breast, causing its already erect nipple to tighten further through her sports bra. That was all it had taken to have Mia yanking off his sodden tee in desperation. They hadn’t made it to the bedroom—or even to the couch half a dozen steps away in her living room. In his urgency, Gid had made love to her against the wall in the tiny foyer.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” he’d told her afterward as the breath sawed from his lungs. “Even when we’re old and gray, Mia, I won’t have had my fill.”

  They were words that should have made her happy but instead had left her unnerved. Too many people in her life had made promises they could not keep. In a way, such words often had signaled the beginning of the end.

  Mia crossed her arms as she shifted her weight to one hip. She couldn’t bear to open herself up to the kind of pain she knew firsthand abandonment caused. It hadn’t been wise to become so involved with Gid. She’d let things with him grow too serious and go on for too long. Ultimately, however, she deemed it wiser to reject than to wait around to be rejected.

  Not that walking away fr
om Gideon had been easy. But it had been necessary. Besides, he was better off without her. He deserved someone who was emotionally healthy and whole. Someone who wasn’t afraid to love him back.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said.

  She shook her head in denial. “I’ve been busy.”

  “That’s a handy excuse, Mia. Not to mention an overused one.”

  “It also happens to be true.”

  His eyes narrowed and she braced for a battle of words, mentally lining up her arguments. Instead, Gideon merely shrugged.

  “Whatever.”

  Nothing got Mia’s back up quicker than that one, three-syllable word. Whatever said, I don’t care. It said, what you have to say doesn’t matter to me. Extrapolated, it meant, you don’t matter to me.

  If she’d been thinking straight, she would have realized that her strong reaction to the word was exactly why Gid used it. He wanted to get a rise out of her. He wanted her to fight back. He wanted to pull out the volatile emotions that she tried to keep under lock and key. But seeing red blotted out the obvious.

  “Are you calling me a liar?” she demanded as she came around the prep table.

  In her flat shoes, the top of her head barely came to his shoulder. That didn’t keep her from poking him in the chest.

  Gid eyed the finger a moment before his gaze returned to hers. He replied, “This is a small town and I haven’t bumped into you once in the past six months. Not once. Just sayin’.”

  His lips quirked, and it irritated her all the more that she still found his mouth to be so damned sexy. The man should be out of her system by now. Forgotten. But no matter how hard she tried to banish them, those memories of the two of them together held on stubbornly, pressing to the forefront at the most inconvenient times.

  Including right then.

  “You’re staring at my mouth,” he said.

  The best defense was a good offense, Mia decided. She offered no apology. Instead, she tilted her head to one side and noted casually, “I’ve always liked your mouth. It’s one of your best features.”

  “There are others you like even better as I recall.”

  Heat didn’t merely shoot up her spine at his soft-spoken reply. It flooded into parts of her body that had been stone cold since their breakup.

  Still, she managed to keep her tone casual. “That’s true. Sex was never an issue for us.”

  He nodded. “Just commitment.”

  “I’m not going to feel guilty.”

  “Is that what you were feeling just now?”

  His lips quirked again, telling her he didn’t buy it. She ignored the remark and pressed her point.

  “I told you going in what my…my limits were—live for the moment, don’t plan for the future. I explained everything, Gid. I made it clear. And you said you were okay with it. You” —she poked his chest again for emphasis—“You were the one who changed the rules.”

  His lazy smile faded as the first licks of anger flared in his eyes. He didn’t lose his temper often, or at least he’d rarely done so in her presence. Not since the first argument they’d had after a month into dating when she’d sidled out of reach as soon as he’d raised his voice. The pity she’d seen in his eyes as realization dawned still had the power to mortify.

  Well, he was mad now.

  “Okay. I did. I changed the rules. But we weren’t playing a damned game, Mia. We were in a relationship, and relationships develop over time.”

  “Or they end.” She swallowed, tipped up her chin. “And ours ended.”

  “Are you over me, Mia?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to answer the question, in part because saying yes would be a bald-faced lie, and he’d already called her a liar. So she turned the question around.

  “Are you over me?”

  He snorted before replying, “I want to be.”

  “It’s not the same thing,” she murmured.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Gid stepped closer, crowding her personal space in a way only suited to lovers or enemies. She was no longer the former, and didn’t want to be the latter. Forget going on the offensive. It was time to retreat.

  “About those flowers…” she began.

  Before she could step back, though, his head dipped down, and he kissed her. The initial brush of his lips was tentative, the eyes that regarded her unblinking. He drew back a fraction of an inch, waited for her to tell him no or to stop—words she should have had at the ready, but they refused to be spoken. When she remained silent, his mouth covered hers again, and Mia closed her eyes on a sigh.

  The kiss deepened. She rose on tiptoe, hands braced on his chest as their bodies drew flush. Underneath her palms she could feel Gid’s heart beating every bit as erratically as her own. She remembered this. Oh, yeah. And she missed it. Standing in the circle of his arms, she felt safe, cherished, loved. If those were the only emotions, everything would have been fine. But she also felt sick with fear that he would leave her.

  She ended the kiss abruptly. She’d gone down this road once. It was a dead end. And that was for the best.

  “Mia—”

  She shook her head. When she started to back away, though, Gid grabbed her wrist. Nothing about his action was painful or threatening. His hold was loose and could have been broken easily. Charlie was on his feet and surprised them both by growling, the fur just behind his collar spiking up in menace.

  Gid released her. “Looks like you have a protector.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say she didn’t need one. She could take care of herself. Gid knew it, too. She could tell by the way his eyes narrowed.

  “Don’t.”

  “What?” she asked innocently.

  “Don’t give me more crap about how you don’t need anyone. It’s not you against the world, Mia. It might have been at one time but it doesn’t have to be that way now. It’s okay to let someone else have your back.”

  Loner. Distrustful. Has difficulty forming meaningful attachments. The assessment she’d spied long ago in her caseworker’s file rang in her head.

  “I know that.” At his raised brows, she added, “My friends have my back.”

  Jenny, Marney, Gabby—they were the only people around whom Mia felt comfortable dropping her guard and even that had taken a long, long time.

  Gid shook his head. His expression was resigned. “I was your friend, too, you know.”

  She swallowed, both stunned and shamed by the accusation she saw in his eyes. She’d never thought of their relationship in those terms, but it was true, she realized now. They had been friends as well as lovers, which perhaps explained why she missed him so damned much.

  “Gid, I’m sor—”

  He waved a hand, silencing her. “I don’t want another apology. You’ve offered enough of those. What I want, what I need…” He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “What I need are two dozen roses.”

  Flowers. They were back to discussing business. Why did she feel disappointed? She should be relieved.

  “Sure.” She worked up a polite smile. Stepping around him, she said in her most professional voice, “Let me just grab an order form, and we’ll get everything taken care of.”

  …

  Gid followed Mia out of the back room, irritated anew when his gaze was drawn to the subtle sway of her slim hips. If it had been only attraction, he might have been able to shrug it off. But it went deeper than that. Much deeper. God help him. He still loved her every bit as desperately as he had the night he’d proposed marriage and had received her “thanks, but no thanks” reply.

  Actually, her response hadn’t been quite as tidy as that, but the end result was the same. She’d turned him down flat.

  He wanted Mia out of his system, but she remained as much a part of him as the air he breathed and was seemingly as vital.

  Naively, he’d thought that following through with his plans to sell the practice and move across the country would exorcise her. Then she’d walked
into his clinic a week earlier and, ever since, he’d done nothing but think about her. The quasi peace he’d cobbled together had shattered once again.

  Coming here had been a mistake. As she’d so annoyingly pointed out, he could have called in his order. For that matter, he could have used a different florist, one closer to his childhood home in Chicago. But he’d gotten in his Jeep and had come here because…because he was a freaking idiot.

  Well, even idiots had pride. Gid scraped up what he could find of his while Mia retrieved the order pad and a pen from the front counter.

  “So, roses,” she said, making a note.

  “Two dozen.”

  “White.” They said it at the same time.

  She glanced up. “They’re your mom’s favorite.”

  “Right. Have the card read—”

  “With love from your favorite son.” One side of Mia’s mouth lifted.

  It was a standing joke. It was how Gid, who had three older brothers, always signed cards to his mother.

  When he frowned, Mia sobered. “Or did you want it to say something else?”

  “No. That will do.”

  He paid with cash, offered Charlie one last ear scratch, and started for the door. Two steps from it he stopped, turned.

  “Did you forget something?” she asked.

  Leave it be, he commanded silently. Just let it go. But the question that was torturing him tumbled out anyway. “I’m just wondering how it is you can know me so well, Mia, and still not trust me.”

  “I…I…” She swallowed, glanced away.

  “Exactly. You can’t say you trust me any more than you could tell me you love me.”

  With a shake of his head, he stormed out of the shop, irritated with both of them.

  Chapter Three

  “You’re quiet tonight,” Jenny noted later that week as she and Mia had drinks at Pablo’s Pub. “Everything okay?”