Miss Match

by Laurelin McGee

  And that just made her sad. And destructive. Wanting to wallow in her pain, no—revel in her escape—she pursued the subject further. “You know, you don’t have to keep it in your pants anymore. You could bang her all you want and I won’t say a word.”

  “Is that what you want? For me to be with Jane?”

  “No.” It was out before she could stop it. She backpedaled fast. “I mean, what do I care? I quit, remember?”

  He took a step toward her. “And the only reason you ever cared about that was because of your job?” His expression was more prodding than accusatory.

  She swallowed back the lump in her throat. “Of course. Why else would I give a shit?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  They stared at each other in a standstill and it occurred to Andy that Blake might know. Was that possible? Did he somehow guess that she had a massive love boner for him, and if he did, why did he feel the need to expose it? Did he … care?

  No, it was probably just because of his ego.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, breaking their eye contact. She couldn’t take much more without the rage dissolving into tears. “Blake, I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I have a headache. Could you please just let this lie? Go meet Jane at her house and celebrate the occasion.”

  “What occasion?” He looked truly confused.

  “Don’t patronize me. I know, Blake.”

  “Know what, Drea?”

  “About the engagement.” Did he think he could hide it from her? And why did he want to? Goddammit, was he trying to get out of paying her find-a-bride bonus on top of everything else? “I saw the ring. I know you were going to propose. Are you trying to screw me on my bonus, Blake Donovan? Because if you—”

  He cut her off with a finger pointed at her. “Hold on. You saw … the ring?”

  “Yeah, I saw it. So stop trying to hide the truth and let’s talk about my payment. Because I know you proposed. Why did you think I quit?” If she was going to walk away with a broken heart and no referral, she’d better at least have money for groceries for a couple of months. And who was he kidding with this ridiculous late-night drop-in?

  “Andy, stop talking about payment. I’m not trying to screw you out of anything. What the hell is it that you think you know about my proposal?”

  “I know all of it. I’m not an idiot.” She sighed. A deep, heavy, frustrated I-can’t-believe-I’m-spelling-this-out sigh. “The ring came in while you were at your meetings. Sarah was already at lunch so I signed for the package. I was nosy. I looked. Add that to dinner reservations at Menton, it didn’t take much to put together that tonight was the night you’d pop the question.”

  “Pop the…” Dawning settled over his features. “You thought I was going to propose to Jane?”

  “Well, duh.”

  There were exactly two seconds of silence before Blake began to laugh. Not a simple chuckle, either, but a deep, hearty laugh much like the night she’d shown up in her nightie on his doorstep. And just like then, she felt totally humiliated and utterly confused and goddamn pissed.

  Fucking Blake.

  Before she could find a new item to pelt him with—this time, preferably a very hard, very damaging object—his laughter ceased sharply. He met her eyes and advanced upon her, backing her up until she’d met the wall.

  He caged her in, his body so close but not touching her anywhere. God, it was just like when he’d seduced her the night before. Heat rolled off him—sexual tension and emotional tension—it took everything she had not to choke him with his tie and then rip all his clothes off. Because it was the only thought that distracted her from how she still wanted him to do that to her. Why was he torturing her like this?

  “Why are you mad at me?” His low, husky timbre fell over her like liquid sex.

  “I…” She wasn’t sure anymore. Wasn’t even sure if she was still mad at him. Or if she was mad, maybe she could take it out on him in another way. Like with her body, with her hands. With her teeth. Maybe one last … maybe they could hate-do it?

  “Is it because you have feelings…?” He didn’t add for me, but it was implied.

  Andy shook her head but squeaked out a contradictory “Maybe.”

  He settled his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, as if relishing her oh-so-tentative answer. When he opened them again, he said plainly, “I did not propose to Jane.”

  Her breath hitched. “You didn’t?”

  “No.” He circled his nose around hers once, then drew back to meet her gaze. “It would be a serious conflict of interest. Considering I’m completely in love with you.”

  Andy swore her heart flipped in her chest. “Wh—what?”

  He trailed his hands up her arms. “I love you, Andy. The ring was for you.”

  “For me?” Now her heart was in her throat. She had to be hallucinating because there was no way that ring had been for her. Or dreaming. Maybe she was still asleep on the couch.

  Except his hands on her body felt awfully real and the scent that she’d come to know as pure Blake pervaded the space between them, filled her with all of him. Not as full as she was fantasizing, but …

  Her eyes fell to the floor as she tried to work through the fog that had settled around her. “But you went out with Jane tonight—”

  “—to break up with her.”

  “At the fanciest restaurant in town?”

  “I thought you’d be impressed with my considerate letdown.” He took a step back. Not too far, but enough to give her a smidgeon of breathing room.

  “Impressed?” He was still close enough for her to punch him in the shoulder. So she hit him twice. “It’s misleading! To her and to me.”

  Blake rubbed at the place she’d struck him, but was otherwise a good sport about the infliction. “Jane was far from misled. She was well aware I had no feelings for her before I even told her. As for you—”

  She opened her mouth to ask more about the highly interesting thing he’d just said about Jane, but he put a finger up to shush her. “I could have explained all of it to you, if you’d asked me about it instead of quitting and running off—”

  “—like how you ran off this morning?” That hypocrisy had to be addressed. “I may have run off, but let it be clear you abandoned me first. At least I left a note.” She brushed past him, unable to stand his close proximity any longer. If he was going to play mind games with her, then she at least needed to have a fair shot at fighting back, and there was no fair shot when he was that near.

  Blake spun around after her. “What are you talking about, Andy? I didn’t abandon you. And I did leave a note.”

  “Where? There was no note. I know. I looked.”

  “There was a note, Drea. It was by the bedside with the money—” He stopped as if realizing what must have happened.

  At the same time, Andy remembered everything falling off the nightstand. Remembered the dog …

  “Puppy,” they said in unison.

  She couldn’t help smiling at that. Then she couldn’t stop smiling because Blake hadn’t abandoned her.

  Blake ran a hand over his face. “No wonder you were mad. You thought I’d just left you.”

  “Left me with a pair of twenties.”

  “Oh, God … it was for a cab to get home. You must have thought…”

  “Let’s not even go there.” All that heartache, and it had just been a misunderstanding. Luckily they’d sorted it out before she’d gone and done anything drastic. Well, anything more drastic. How different the day would have gone if not for the damn dog.

  “I told you the dog was a bad idea.”

  She hit him again, though a part of her agreed. “So.” She leaned against the back of the couch. “What did the note say?”

  “Nothing important. I wanted to save the good stuff for in person.”

  “Well. Here I am. In the flesh.” She was flirting now. Hard-core.

  “That you are.” His eyes scanned
down her body and she was suddenly aware she was only in a camisole and shorts.

  She shivered. He acknowledged her reaction with a curl of his lip and all she wanted was to stop talking and make out already. The way he was slinking closer made her think he had the same thing in mind.

  But then there was his admission of love and the ring … God, the ring!

  Maybe he hadn’t said the things she’d thought he said. It all went by so fast. “Wait, wait.” She shook her hands by her head as if that would clear her head. “A lot of information has flown by in the last ten minutes and I’m muddled.”

  Blake halted his approach. “Understandable. What can I do to un-muddle you?”

  “Let’s sit. Can we sit? I think we should sit.” She circled the couch and sat on the edge while Blake took the armchair. Where to start, where to start … “This morning—” She shook her head; she wanted to go back farther. “Last night, I mean—”

  “Last night was the best night of my life, Andy.”

  Her lips went dry and her pulse picked up. She was dumbfounded. He had been as blown away as she’d been! Luckily, it wasn’t her turn to talk.

  Blake leaned forward, close enough that their knees almost met. “And this morning when I woke up, I realized that every minute I’ve spent with you has been the best of my life. I think I’d figured out that I loved you long before, but last night is when I realized you were the one I wanted to spend my life with.”

  Andy brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “Really?” She let her palm fall to her chest. “But I’m not your ideal.” Not even close to his ideal. Her body, her personality—none of her fit the mold of the woman he wanted.

  Blake reached over to settle his hand on her knee. “You’re exactly my ideal, Andrea Dawson. It just took me longer to realize it than it should have.”

  She let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, it did.”

  “Hey, I didn’t hear any declarations from you all that time.” He sat back and instantly she missed his touch. “In fact, I still haven’t heard any declarations from you. Should I even be here right now?”

  She practically jumped out of her seat. “Yes. You should be here. I’m glad you’re here.”

  He looked skeptical. “Even though you threw those awful cross trainers at me?”

  “Even though I threw the cross trainers at you. They are not awful, though. Don’t even think I’m going to say that they are.”

  “Andy, I love you even though you have no taste in shoes. And don’t know how to cook.” He glanced at the dusty picture frames on the wall behind her. “Or clean.”

  She couldn’t even defend herself. She wasn’t good at any of those things. “Those are all requirements you had for your wife.” Her spirits sank. Even if he did love her, how could she fill the role of Blake Donovan’s wife? He’d never be happy with her when she lacked so much.

  Blake, however, simply shrugged. “We’ll just always have to have a housekeeper. There’s nothing to do about your eye for bad shoes, however.”

  She chuckled, but immediately grew somber again. “I might want more than one baby.”

  “That means lots of baby making. I like baby making.”

  “Blake, I’m serious.” This conversation was the most serious she’d ever had, to be honest.

  “So am I.”

  She met his eyes and saw he was indeed as sincere as she was. It gave her a rush to realize they were making plans together for their future. Funny how, this time, it was her ticking off the list of requirements for his wife. “And I want to work. Even though I have no idea what I want to do.”

  “I hope you work for me. But even if you don’t, I’ll be happy as long as I can come home to you and beat your pants off in pinball.”

  This time when she laughed she let a smile linger after. “Do I have to be wearing pants when we play pinball?”

  “I’d actually prefer that you don’t.”

  No longer able to stand the distance between them, Andy leaped into his lap. She straddled his hips and cupped his cheeks in her hands. “Blake, I love you. I have a confession, though—I did sabotage your dates with Jane because I didn’t know how to tell you, and I couldn’t stand the idea of you with someone else. And that’s why I quit, too. I thought last night meant nothing to you. I thought we meant nothing to you.”

  “We mean everything to me.” He turned his mouth to rest a kiss on her palm. “If I asked you to marry me…?”

  It was an echo of the way he’d asked her to stay with him the night before, but she wasn’t about to let him get off that easy. “Are you asking me?”

  “Hold on. You’re right. We have to do this properly. I have to do this properly. You deserve it.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and stood. Andy squealed as he carried her out like a potato sack from where the furniture was arranged tightly to a clearing in the room. There he knelt on one knee and propped her on the other.

  She giggled with nerves as he stuck his hand inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a velvet box—the same one she’d seen earlier that day. As if this wasn’t happening, as if she didn’t know what was going on—as if he hadn’t flat-out told her. With one hand still anchored at her hip, he awkwardly used his mouth to open the box. She started to shake. Then there it was, the beautiful ring she’d held between her fingers, wishing against hope it belonged to her. And now it did.

  Or, it almost did. Blake had yet to ask the question.

  “Andy Dawson, you are everything I never knew I wanted. You are more than ideal—you’re my perfect match. Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

  For the first time since she’d met him, she didn’t argue. “Yes. Yes, Blake Donovan, I will.”

  He kissed her then. Hard and deep. She matched his passion, telling him everything in her heart through her lips, through her tongue, through her hands that she wrapped around his neck and wove through his hair. It was a kiss that spoke of beginnings. A kiss that promised the future. A kiss heavy with love. A kiss that was also the end, but the happiest ending she could dream of.

  When they both came up for air, Andy pushed away. She wanted to keep kissing him all night—all her life—but she had yet to put the ring on her finger. Still on his knee, they fumbled through getting the ring out of the box and on her finger.

  “I’m impressed,” she said, her gaze caught up in the diamond’s sparkle. “It fits perfectly.”

  “I may have done some measuring. While you slept.”

  “Clever man. And only a little creepy.” She couldn’t stop staring at her hand. It was so beautiful. So impossible. And so … right. “I loved your proposal, by the way. Though”—she couldn’t believe she was admitting this, but fresh start and all that—“I do kind of like it when you call me Drea.”

  He laughed and clutched her close to him. “I knew it.”

  Happier than she’d ever been, she teased him as he kissed along her jawline. “Is this a good time to tell you I still want my matchmaking bonus? I did find you a wife, after all.”

  His mouth found her ear and nibbled. “Well, I’d hope that being married to me would be all the bonus you’d need.”

  “I do love you, Mr. Donovan. But I’m going to need a personal account at Macy’s, too.” Though she’d settle for a lifetime of that thing he was doing with his tongue. And maybe a monthlong honeymoon in St. Lucia. She had promised herself a tropical vacation.

  Blake found her mouth again. This time the kiss was deeper, longer, more desperate. When Blake’s crotch hardened against her thigh, she knew what was coming next.

  “Come home with me, Mrs. Donovan-to-be,” he said against her lips. “I want to spend all night not sleeping with you. What do you say?”

  And for the second time since she met him, she found herself in agreement. Because spending all night not sleeping was the perfect way to celebrate an engagement.

  Read on for an excerpt from Laurelin McGee’s next book

  Love Struck

  Coming soon from St. M
artin’s Paperbacks

  “ADZE?” Lance looked at the word on the Scrabble board, his brows furrowed. “What the hell is an ‘ADZE’? You’re making words up again, aren’t you?”

  Lacy wrapped her arms tighter around the pillow she was holding—his pillow—and scowled in mock indignation. “Making words up again? I never make up words. That’s you.”

  “I do not. Ever.” But his grin would have been an admission, even if they both didn’t already know full well that he often just placed letters on the board, hoping they’d spell something legitimate. “And if ‘ADZE’ is for real, then tell me what it means.”

  “It’s … uh…” She was excellent at words, but not always at remembering definitions.

  “If you don’t know, it’s not a word. I call foul.” He shifted, stretching one leg out and jostling the mattress as he did.

  “Careful.” Lacy put her hands out to steady the board. It was the one problem with playing in bed—any movement threatened the integrity of the game.

  “You be careful, missy. Cheating at Scrabble … who would have thought? From Lacy Dawson of all people.”

  “Are you officially challenging me?”

  Lance dove across the board, sending wooden tiles flying.

  Lacy squealed as he pinned her to the mattress. So much for the game. Oh, well, she was more interested in this new game anyway.

  “Admit it. You made it up,” he said as he stretched his body over her.

  “It’s a tool!” she said, suddenly remembering the meaning of the word she’d placed. “An adze is a kind of tool. I think.”

  “A tool? I’ll show you a tool.” Lance pressed his hips into hers and she could feel his tool all right.

  She pretended to pout. “This tool of yours better be worth it. I mean, I was winning, you know.”

  He let go of one of her arms so he could pull the pillow out from between them and toss it out of the way. “I’m sure you were. But guess what? I’ve already won.”

  Lacy wiggled, positioning herself better beneath her fiancé. “Oh, really. Just what have you won?”