Perfectly Matched: ...And the Rest of the Matchmaking Chef Books

by Maddie James

  “Mary?”

  “Yes, Nash?”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Out? Now?”

  Moist warmth brushed her cheek as he moved even closer. His lips, firm and hot, brushed against hers and without thought, she tilted her chin forward to allow him better access. “Yes, you. Me. I need a break in the action. Let’s get out of here,” he breathed against them.

  Mary pulled away and looked into his eyes. For the longest time, she stared into them and he gazed back. A ripple of pleasure raced across her chest and settled in her abdomen. She shouldn’t. She was getting married…in two weeks, in fact. But... But this was Nash Rhodes, and would she ever forgive herself if she didn’t, at least, see what might happen between the two of them?

  “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll go change.”

  He smiled and tugged at the tendril again. “Don’t touch your hair. I like it just like that.”

  She allowed herself to grin back, tamping down the butterflies having a reunion in her belly, and slipped away from him.

  She ran straight into Brad at the door. “Oh! Sorry!”

  She watched him double-take from her to Nash and back again, and then say, “I thought I smelled coffee. Hey, Nash. Mary, where are you running off to?”

  Startled, she didn’t quite know what to say. She had no clue where they were going.

  “Um. Out.”

  She heard Nash chuckle as she dashed for the stair.

  ****

  Twenty minutes later Mary found herself with Nash between her thighs.

  Pressed up against him, her legs spread and her quads clenching his hips, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. The vibration of the rumbling Harley engine beneath them caused her to flush in embarrassment; her panties, she was certain, were dripping wet. Her breasts taut, her nipples hard, she hugged close the hard plane of his back. Her arms were wrapped firmly around his waist and she splayed her fingers over all six of his six-pack ab muscles.

  She’d never been so surprised in all her life when Nash led her outside, mounted the motorcycle, and told her to get behind him. It was Brad’s, she learned, and he’d lent it to Nash for the day, as long as he promised to be back in time for the concert.

  Lord help her, she didn’t want to be responsible for Nash not showing up at the concert!

  But what could she do? When Nash Rhodes was around, he was the one definitely in control.

  And she was like putty in his hands…

  Oh dear. She wanted to be putty in Nash’s hands! Funny how she never wanted to be putty in Thurman’s.

  She followed his direction, scooted up close against him, and he reached for her hands and placed them on his stomach. For a moment, he left his big hand there, softly caressing hers, and smiled slyly at her in the handlebar mirror.

  “Hold on,” he told her and gunned the engine. They sped off out of the drive and onto Lake Road, climbing into the mountain in no time. Soon, she relaxed and learned to lean into the curves with him and the bike and felt, almost, as if they were one thing.

  It was a pretty good feeling.

  They wove through the mountains, still green and lush, even though it was late August.

  They’d had a rainy summer and the dryness of fall had yet to set in. It was still morning and the entire day stretched in front of them. The concert wasn’t until eight o’clock that evening. What would they do until then?

  In a way, the silence was comforting. Now and again, they would steal a glance at each other and meet eyes in the mirror. Riding behind him allowed her to feel like they were getting to know each other, even though they weren’t saying a word. It was comfortable and soon, she relaxed, and allowed herself to hug closer to him from behind. Once in a while, he lifted his hand to again, clasp it over hers at his waist, or lay it lazily on her knee.

  Every time, it gave her a thrill that traveled the length of her body and ended with a tingle in her toes.

  She enjoyed this way too much.

  Staying off the beaten path, they traveled the smaller mountain roads and wound around toward the Gatlinburg area. Mary had been this way a thousand times, but today she saw everything with a fresh eye and with every nerve-ending on edge.

  They slowed through the mountain village and its crowds and made their way to the opposite side of town where Nash pulled over at a greasy spoon and killed the Harley’s engine.

  Once the bike quieted, they eased their bodies off the cycle and stretched the kinks out of their stiff muscles.

  Nash didn’t waste any time. Standing in front of her, he reached for her neck and unfastened the strap. Looking into her eyes, he unhurriedly removed her helmet and set it on the bike seat, then took off his own. Stepping closer, he raked his fingers through her hair in an attempt to get rid of some of the tangles. She had clasped her hair with a clip at her neck but had long lost it; her hair whipping in the wind ever since.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Sorta,” she replied.

  His finger-combing her hair was as sensual as hell. His gaze moved to his fingers and she continued to watch his eyes.

  “I love the color of your hair,” he said.

  Should she tell him it was shade number 11A and she bought it yesterday at The Piggly Wiggly? No. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He smiled and his hands dropped to her shoulders. One moved to her chin and he tipped her face up to him. “I really want to kiss you.”

  The thought of Nash Rhodes kissing her thrilled her beyond belief. Ever since he’d brushed his hot lips across hers that morning she was melting, waiting for another taste. Maybe she tipped her head in a nod, she wasn’t sure. Maybe her knees buckled a bit. Not sure about that, either. All she was certain of was that her brain was doing a little spin and every cell in her body was screaming for contact.

  Lips. Bodies.

  And he smelled wonderful.

  “Mary? May I?”

  You clutz. Answer him! “Yes.”

  Nash didn’t wait another second. Both arms encircled her and brought her closer, the length of her body pressed snug up against his. She felt warm and secure and protected in his arms. When his lips descended, and her eyes closed, nothing but the heat sparking in the sensitive nerve endings around her mouth existed in Mary’s immediate world.

  Nothing, but the two of them.

  He raked his lips over hers and she tasted the salt of his skin and felt the shadow of his beard prick against her lips. An urgency swelled in her chest and the only way she knew she could quell it was to get next to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. Their lips taunted and played and each opened to the other to mingle tongues, and tempt and tease.

  Nash broke away with a gasp. “Damn,” he swore on a low breath.

  He looked at her with an intensity Mary wasn’t sure she could handle. She opened her mouth to speak, but he hauled her up against him again and took her mouth one more time.

  This time, the kiss was a sultry, lingering play of lips, both sucking and exploring, their hands wandering…”

  “Hey, get a room!”

  “Why shit! It’s Nash Rhodes!”

  A camera flashed in their faces and Mary squinted, having just been jerked out of her perfect world.

  “Sonofabitch!” Nash grasped the helmets and thrust hers at her, then donned his. “Get the hell away,” he said to the photo-hungry tourist.

  He kicked the bike into action again and she raced to don the helmet, dodge another barrage of camera flashes, and hoist her leg over the bike.

  “Hang on,” he ordered. They sailed out of the parking lot, cameras clicking all the way.

  Chapter Five

  Sonofabitch! The last thing I need is a photo-hungry fan on my ass.

  Nash gunned the engine and sped back through downtown Gatlinburg. He made all the lights, which was miraculous, but wanted to get the hell out of Dodge before anyone else recognized him—as well as get a jump on those who d
id, in case they decided to follow.

  It was Mary’s fault. He’d never felt so carefree and alive than he did with her cradled up against him. She belonged there, it seemed, and he had lost all sense of vulnerability and sensibility when they’d gotten off the bike and he kissed her.

  It felt like he’d waited hours to touch his lips to hers again, watching their sexy plumpness in the rearview mirror more than he had watched the road.

  Usually he was smarter than that out in public. No doubt, whether that guy was a fan or not, he’d sell the pics to some mag and then both his and Mary’s faces, swapping spit no less, would be plastered all over the fan pages. He’d have to answer questions about a relationship and she’d suddenly be thrust into the limelight—and he had no clue if that was something she would be upset about, or not.

  For some reason, he figured she was pretty much a private person. Shy and reserved.

  Dammit. This one slipup could ruin everything. Would she have anything to do with him after this? Would it make her turn tail and run on him again? Like last night?

  No wonder celebrities took every precaution they could to keep their private lives undercover. This was all too new to him to keep that in mind one-hundred percent of the time.

  And with Mary, he’d lost all sense of priority.

  He was smitten. Hell. That sounded like something his grandma would say. But it was true.

  Out of town now and heading toward Legend Mountain, he relaxed and looked yet again into the mirror on his handlebar. Mary stared toward the side of the road. She still gripped him as tight as before, but something had changed between the two of them. He wondered what she was thinking.

  Hell, she was probably wondering what he was thinking.

  He should take her back to the bed and breakfast. Tell her it was a great ride and head back to his bus for the afternoon. He should, but he didn’t want to. They had a few hours and he wasn’t ready to let Mary go, not just yet, until he figured out a few things. And until he wooed her back into his arms again.

  Besides, along with the keys to the bike, Brad had also given him the keys to one of his cabins up behind the lodge.

  The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of Mary. He did want to take advantage of the situation and get away from the world, the music, the paparazzi, the fans, and who knows what else for a few hours. And since Mary was here, well, he hoped she didn’t mind tagging along.

  Because she didn’t have a choice in the matter. This time he’d make sure she couldn’t run away until they had time to talk and spend some quality time together.

  ****

  They were heading back toward Legend so Mary figured he was taking her home—or rather, back to the B&B. He didn’t know where she lived and that was a good thing. Her mind spun the entire ride back over the mountain about what was going on. Oh, she could understand Nash’s anger at the amateur photographer. She’d watched enough Celebrity TV to know stars didn’t like cameras flashing in their faces.

  She had to wonder, though, if he was upset about having his picture taken while kissing her. Was that what angered him? Was he embarrassed to be seen kissing such a plain Jane with mussed hair and smudged makeup?

  Obviously, that was part of it. He’d high-tailed them out of town in an instant.

  They turned up the mountain and Mary scowled. This wasn’t the way back to town.

  They raced past the lodge, took a dirt road, and at a slower speed now, wove their way through pines and cedars and rhododendron to another turnoff, leading to a cluster of cabins.

  Brad and Suzie’s cabins. The ones they rented out in addition to the lodge.

  A sliver of panic sped through her. What did he have in mind?

  He pulled up to the cabin at the end and killed the engine. He sat for a moment, took off his helmet next, and then twisted back to look at her. “This isn’t what you think,” he said.

  “What do you think I think?” Funny how more bold she was getting by the hour.

  Getting off the bike, he squared himself in front of her and removed her helmet, too. “I just need some peace and quiet. Some down time before this concert tonight. I… I need a few hours to escape. I promise, I won’t touch you, kiss you, or anything. Just be with me. Okay?”

  Lifting her chin and setting her jaw, she gazed up into his coffee-color eyes. “What if I want you to kiss me again?”

  His stare back went on for a small eternity, like he was contemplating something deep and philosophical. In fact, he was probably doing the same thing as her—weighing the consequences of what was going on inside his jeans and his brain. All Mary could feel, however, was the dare she had tossed out, and she quavered in the anticipation of his reaction.

  “Do you?” he finally said.

  “Yes.”

  “Be sure,” he groaned and leaned into her.

  Mary reached up and traced the backs of her fingertips against his cheek. “I am very sure,” she whispered.

  Nash moved swiftly, before she could react. He picked her up and swung her into his arms and carried her off toward the cabin. Her arms went around his neck and his lips lowered to capture hers, wet and hot and sucking on them as he tripped toward the house.

  He set her down at the door and fumbled for the key in his pocket. Found it. Unlocked the cabin door, and pushed it inward. They rushed inside and he locked the door behind them.

  Mary watched as he glanced about, hoisted her into his arms again, and started for the stair. With each stride he took, her anxiety level rose and her stomach continued to rumba under her ribs. He crossed the second floor landing and didn’t stop until he found a bedroom with a king-sized bed and plopped her in the center of it, his body following.

  His length spanned hers and he hooked a leg over her hip and drew her into him. Her body trilled from the top of her head to her toes, wanting only to burrow closer. They were so close, face to face, breath to breath, their heads resting on the same pillow.

  Nash stroked under her chin and angled her face to his. The kiss they shared was as sweet and patient as the urgency they had felt earlier was rapid and reckless.

  And she was right all those times in her fantasies. He smelled of a hint of tobacco, the deep scent of male musk, and sex.

  Pure, unadulterated sex. And she wanted some.

  His mouth covered hers and the groan coming from deep in his throat was matched by her own whimper and sigh. Finally, Nash broke the kiss and looked deep into her eyes.

  “There are some things I need to say.” He spoke soft and direct.

  Mary nodded. “Yes. Me, too.”

  He seemed puzzled but continued. “I’m very attracted to you, Mary. Have been from the first moment I saw you.”

  Her mouth twitched into a half smile. Nash grinned back and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. She was sure it was swollen by now. This wasn’t happening, was it? Was the Nash Rhodes saying these things to her? “I’ve been attracted to you since…well, since the first time I saw you on CMT. Like half of the American female population.”

  “Only half?”

  They laughed together and then Nash’s face grew serious. “I want to make love to you, Mary. But I can’t promise you anything.”

  Mary knew this was when she should spend a few minutes weighing what was happening. Should she? Or shouldn’t she? What would be the pros? The cons? Would she savor this afternoon for the rest of her life? Or regret it with everything that was in her?

  “I don’t want you to promise a thing other than giving me your undivided attention this afternoon.” And she meant that. Truly.

  Exhaling deep, he closed his eyes. “You are a gem, and I’m a horny sonofabitch.”

  Laughing, Mary leaned up to place a kiss near his ear. “I’m as horny as you,” she whispered.

  He leaned up on an elbow and stared down at her. “I need to explain. I’m sort of married to music, you know? The timing. The travel. A relationship would…”

  Married. To music. And she…?
r />   Was marrying Thurman. In two weeks.

  “I…” She placed two fingers over his lips. “It’s okay, Nash,” she whispered. “Make love to me. Give me this afternoon. I won’t hold you to anything. I’m not the kind of girl…”

  Nash silenced her with his lips. “I know you’re not. You’re not like any of the other women out there trying to get their hooks in me. Mary…” his fingers started a slow trail down the placket of her shirt, “I want to lose myself in you this afternoon. I want to love you and pleasure you and…”

  I want to love you and pleasure you. Love. If only…

  ****

  If only you were that kind of girl. It would be easier to leave you.

  Nash knew in his gut that he shouldn’t be moving forward with Mary. That he shouldn’t be leisurely undoing each small button down the front of her white cotton blouse. That he shouldn’t be laying the front open to reveal her sexy, lacy bra with full breasts straining against the flimsy fabric, aching for his palm around them.

  Or dipping his fingers lower into the waistband of her jeans.

  He shouldn’t be doing any of this. But he was.

  “Mary, sweet Mary…” he whispered and leaned in to nuzzle the hollow of her neck. She smelled like roses and strawberries, fresh and dewy and succulent, and that’s exactly what he wanted to do—suck the dew right off her skin, and elsewhere.

  She squirmed in his arms. “Make love to me, Nash,” she whispered. “I want you so…”

  Groaning, he rolled away and sat on the edge of the bed. He kicked his boots off and they slammed to the floor. He stood and lowered his zipper and removed his jeans, briefs, socks, and shirt, tossing every article hither and yon. He didn’t care.

  Where he wanted to be was in Mary’s arms. Her naked arms.

  She leaned up and started to remove her shirt.

  “No,” he told her, laying a hand on her forearm. “Let me finish undressing you.” But before he moved to her, he glanced back at his jeans and removed his wallet and a small foil packet and set it on the bedside table.

  Last thing either of us needs is a baby…

  “Now,” he growled and rolled into bed alongside her. “Now I will undress you.” And believe you me, I am going to enjoy every long and tortuous minute of it.