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

by Maddie James

You see, she wanted more.

  Usually she relished in the hustle and bustle of Saturday mornings, the rushing off into the stacks to help someone find a book, the rustling of newspapers and magazines in the reading corner, the hum of the old copier, and low mumblings and occasional giggles of children. But today, truth be known, she was glad for the silence. Her brain was way too cluttered and the quiet was welcomed. Besides, there was work to be done. Bea Brammel, her library assistant, had been off work all week with sick kids. And even though she did show up today, there were a ton of books to be shelved.

  “No time like the present,” she said out loud, drifting toward a cart full of disorganized books. She pushed it toward the stacks. The menial work would keep her mind from spinning.

  Still, as she idly shelved book after book, her thoughts turned to the one thing she didn’t want to think about.

  Chris.

  Damn him.

  She knew, of course, that he was surprised as hell at her reaction the other night. In the four months they dated, everything had gone so well. In fact, it was the one relationship she’d had thus far that felt promising. Almost. That almost part, however, was more to do with her than him, however.

  She cared for Chris a whole helluva lot. They had good times together. And the sex was, well, explosive. Most of all—and this was the thing that frightened her more than anything—was that they could talk. Share. Communicate.

  So much so, in fact, that she damned near shared her hopes and dreams with him not long ago. She’d never done that with any man. Never.

  That scared her.

  Tremendously.

  He was getting too close and she was letting him in. And then…then, dammit, he popped the stupid question.

  Hadn’t she made it clear that she didn’t do forever? That she wasn’t interested in anything more than dating and having fun and living in the moment?

  Hadn’t she made that clear…to herself even?

  Crap.

  Most men were fine with her Devil-may-care attitude about relationships. She counted on that. They weren’t looking for deep commitment. That was her safety net. She wasn’t looking for commitment, either, because commitment would get in the way of her goals.

  Chris, unfortunately, was looking for commitment. He’d moved to this small Podunk town by choice, hadn’t he? And all she wanted was to someday get out of it.

  What the hell happened to her life? Her plans?

  Chris Marks happened. Dammit. And then, well yeah, there was that other unexpected dilemma….

  ****

  After sitting in his cruiser for the past hour, Chris was glad to get out and stretch his legs.

  As he strolled across the street, he glanced up to the clock on the town hall building and noted the time. Two minutes before noon. The old clock was a minute slow, everyone in town knew that, so he had only a minute to spare.

  He glanced at the library door.

  There she was. Bea. Leaving.

  She was always the first one out the door. Katie was usually an hour or so behind.

  He picked up his stride. The library closed at noon.

  Just as Bea turned to lock the door, he sidled up beside her, grasped her arm, and put a finger to his lips as she turned to look at him.

  “Sh…” he sounded and slipped inside. She smiled and locked the door behind him.

  Good ol’ Bea.

  Inside, the library was still and quiet. He stopped for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the lower light in the building. A shuffling sound came from the rear.

  Ah, yes. There you are my sweet little vixen.

  He crept through the empty library and carefully glanced back through each aisle of books until finally, he came upon the last one, closest to the wall. He hesitated a second, then peeked around the corner.

  There.

  Halfway into the stack, he caught sight of long silky legs and a red skirt hitched up over her right hip, and grinned. Katie stood partway up the ladder, at least four rungs up, braced against the bookshelf. Her sinful derrière at his eye level, one foot rested on a shelf while she leaned to place a book precisely in its Dewey Decimal System home.

  In three silent strides he was behind her, each fist gripping the ladder on either side of her knees. His foot on the first rung of the ladder before she had a clue he was anywhere nearby.

  Chapter Two

  Katie felt the tingles race up the back of her calves about the same time she realized Chris was behind her. It wasn’t the first time he’d slipped into the library and they’d had mad, crazy sex in the stacks. Still angry and turned on at the same time, she wasn’t sure which emotion to push away. Not today. Sex wasn’t happening today. In the stacks, or between her sheets. She had to resist.

  He took another step up the ladder and his left hand moved to her thigh, inching up inside her skirt.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.

  “That never stopped you before,” he replied.

  “I’m really mad at you.”

  He rose higher and pressed her against the ladder. His breath was hot on her neck. “That never stopped you before.”

  He was right. Dammit.

  And he was hard. The hot length of him scorched her backside. His hand snaked up to her left hip and he eased her foot back to the ladder.

  “No pantyhose, good girl.”

  “You know I hate pantyhose.”

  “What about panties?” One finger hooked into the back of her thong.

  “You know I don’t do panties.”

  His lips branded the side of her neck. “Um, hm. Shit, you are hot.”

  “Hot and mad.”

  “Forget about that.”

  Forget about it? How could she do that? Her brain always went to mush when he was around. His finger slid down the thin string of her thong in back, down the crack of her ass, and slipped between her thighs.

  Shit. Her breathing quickened and she gripped the ladder.

  That felt soooo good.

  One finger slipped inside her. “Jesus, you are wet,” he breathed.

  “And you are insane.”

  “I want to be inside you.”

  Her breathing quickened. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  Sandwiched between his body and the ladder, she felt precariously perched. Like between a rock and a hard place. The rock being the fact that she was mad as hell at him, and the hard place being, well, about to penetrate her soft place.

  Which she wanted, like there was no tomorrow. To hell with it!

  “God, Chris…”

  He chuckled and removed his finger. She heard the quick whiz of his zipper. “Be very still,” he ordered. “Let me. I’m in control here.”

  Passion zipped through her and she arched her back. Oh, gawd… Her pussy ached.

  His quick hands bunched her skirt around her waist—Chris swore something wicked between his teeth and groaned—her thong was pulled aside, and as he maneuvered to brace his right leg against the shelf anchored to the wall, he grasped her tight against the ladder and slipped into her soft place.

  Thank God.

  “Oh, damn…” she whispered.

  With a whoosh of breath against her ear, Chris moaned as he moved inside her. “Be still, baby. Relax and enjoy.” The ladder squeaked and rocked beneath them and she trembled with the instability of their stance and the potential danger of the situation.

  The shelf creaked.

  Pressure built inside her.

  Chris rocked methodically against her. Sucked on her earlobe. Laid steaming kisses behind her ear.

  She reached back and dug her fingers into his thigh. Squeezed.

  “Damn you,” she hissed.

  “You love it,” he groaned.

  “You wish.”

  “I do…shit….”

  With one hand he reached around and grasped her crotch and rubbed. His fingers met her clit and an explosive sensation of orgasmic pleasure overcame her.

  She shouted his
name.

  Chris plunged and shuddered, pinned her to the ladder.

  The thing shifted.

  And they held each other tight and stilled.

  Except for the throbbing between her legs, which was racing out of freaking control.

  The ladder scooted to the right.

  “Gonna fall,” she breathed.

  “I have you.” He drew her closer into his embrace. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  Without warning, tears pricked behind her eyelids. Safe. Yes. Since the beginning he made her feel safe.

  “I’m backing down now,” he told her. “Stay still until I’m on the floor. Don’t worry. I’m right behind you.” He pulled out of her and lowered her skirt, smoothing his hands over her backside. His warmth left her back and at once, she didn’t like that feeling.

  It was kind of nice, him having her back.

  “C’mon down, Katie,” he said softly. “I’m right here.”

  Yes. And that was the problem. He wasn’t going away, was he? And she’d fallen into the trap of his potent sexual appeal.

  She backed down the ladder and, in one motion, turned her to face him and kissed her.

  Long. Slow and sensual. Leaving her lips tingling.

  Breaking the kiss, he brushed back a stray lock of her hair, looked into her eyes and said, “Pick you up at eight? How about a movie?”

  Her insides battled her response. But before she could contemplate the right answer, she blurted out, “No.”

  ****

  He called seventeen times since noon. Left twelve messages.

  She didn’t answer. Not once. And didn’t, couldn’t, listen to his voice messages.

  Maybe later.

  Time. She needed time.

  Time to think. Scheme. Plan.

  Figure out what the hell was going on.

  She plucked at another piece of popcorn, drew the afghan up around her, and punched at the remote to stop the movie she was watching. She reached to scratch Molly Mae on the back of her Calico head, and secretly wished that it was her pussy being scratched rather than the head of her pussycat.

  Tears burst forward.

  “Dammit!”

  She jumped off the couch and dropped the afghan. Popcorn bounced around her on the hardwood floors and Molly Mae skittered off toward the bedroom. “I don’t freakin’ cry! What the hell is wrong with me?”

  Collapsing again on the couch, she let out another sob. “Stupid, stupid hormones.”

  ****

  It was unusual to be sitting in his booth at Sydney’s on a Sunday morning. Since he and Katie had been dating, he was usually waking up in her bed, sampling some of her morning offerings. The fact that he was sitting in a cold vinyl booth at seven o’clock in the morning, drinking coffee that had seen a better brew, while staring a hole in the Formica table top before him, told him one thing.

  He was a pitiful sucker.

  A goner.

  And it wasn’t just about the sex. He loved Katie.

  He’d be damned if he would lose this battle. He would have her. And for the rest of his life.

  “Sassy little spitfire.”

  Someone slid into the booth opposite him. “What the hell are you doing here on a Sunday morning?”

  Matt.

  “Hell-if-I-know.” He sipped the bad brew again and jerked his head up. “Hey Sydney, you got any more? I need something a little stronger. This is pretty darned weak this morning!”

  He raised his cup in the air. “And bring Matt one of those new buns or something.”

  Matt put his hand on Chris’ arm and he lowered the cup. “Down boy. What’s got you riled?”

  “Need I remind you?”

  Chuckling, Matt agreed. “Saw you in the window as I went by. Chelly sent me out for a Sunday paper.”

  “Too bad they don’t deliver up on the mountain.”

  Matt shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me, but Chelly likes to keep tabs on the world a bit.

  So, what happened now?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Still?”

  “Yeah.”

  Silence.

  Matt rose. “All right. Enough is enough.” He glanced toward the counter. “Sydney?

  Cancel that order. We’re going to the source.” He turned and grasped Chris’ sleeve and pulled him to his feet. “C’mon. We’re going to Suzie’s.”

  “What? I can get coffee and Suzie’s pastries here. I’d rather sit and…”

  “And mope yourself to death. No, not happening. Besides, we’re not after Suzie’s coffee or hot cross buns. We’re going for something else.”

  Chris stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

  A sly grin broke Matt’s face. “Don’t you know? Besides being the hostess with the mostest and a famous cookbook author, my sister-in-law is a matchmaker. So far she’s two-for-two. Let’s see how she does with number three.”

  Chapter Three

  Before he know it, Chris was sitting in Suzie’s kitchen at Legend’s Landing B&B, chatting over cinnamon coffee and blueberry muffins. Suzie took in the conversation, glancing back and forth between Chris and Matt, as Matt explained why they were there and told her of Chris’ dilemma. She sure didn’t look like a matchmaker to him.

  What the hell. Matchmaker? Aren’t those people only in books, or in Broadway plays, or in Ireland or something?

  While Matt did most of the talking, Chris nodded occasionally and agreed. Suzie took it all in. She bit her lip, frowned now and again, and even grimaced once or twice.

  Finally, she added her two cents. “My work is cut out for me. I need to think about this.”

  “Can you help?” Matt asked.

  She nodded. “Absolutely. I first need to consider the approach.”

  “Approach?” Chris shook his head. “How about hog-tying and throttling her?”

  Suzie’s left eyebrow shot up and she leaned forward. “Look here, Chris Marks. I don’t know you from Adam, your being new in town and all, but I do know Katie Long and that girl won’t take to being treated as chattel.” She sat back in her chair and eyed him another second. Or two. “But I trust my brother-in-law here. He thinks you have potential and says you love her…

  “Now Katie? Well, we never thought she would settle down although I do have my hopes that you could be the man. I simply think you have been going about it the wrong way.”

  He’d had about enough talk and stood. “Ms. Matthews, I appreciate your involvement but I know how to handle Katie Long. I’ve been handling her…”

  “With kid gloves?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Buying her roses?”

  “Well, not lately.”

  “Picnic at the lake?”

  “Never thought about that.”

  “Take her out for a fancy dinner in Knoxville?”

  “No, but we get take-out from the BBQ Hut every Friday night.”

  Suzie crinkled her nose and scoffed. “Ever bought her chocolate? Perfume? A fancy pink rabbit-eared vibrator?”

  “No. No.” He hitched up his pants and grinned. “And with me around, she has no need for a dil—”

  Suzie put her hand up and stood. “Don’t go there.” Pausing, she squinted at him. “Hey, I saw you a few days ago, didn’t I?”

  “Where?”

  She stepped closer, examining his facial features. For a moment he thought she might grasp his chin and turn his face from side to side. “You live across from the church, right?”

  He gave her a slow nod.

  “You and Katie were arguing. The day Nash came to rescue Mary from her wedding. I didn’t get a good look, only a flash of red car peeling out of your driveway. She was saying something like…”

  Chris interrupted. “It will be a cold day in hell before I marry the likes of you.” That statement rang through his head for days.

  Suzie exhaled and he did the same. Then she pulled herself up to her full five-foot-and inches-to-spare height and said, “We’ll see about that.” Gl
ancing at Matt, she added, “I know what I need to do. Go spruce him up and have him back here at ten minutes of eight. Don’t be late.”

  She scrambled off, grasped her cell phone from the counter, and dialed while muttering to herself.

  Matt shrugged and grinned. “So, we’re gonna do what she says. Believe me. Crossing the women in this family is a big mistake.”

  “This, is a big mistake. I can take care of my own problems and I don’t need a damn matchmaker.”

  Chuckling, Matt continued. “Of course you don’t. That’s why Katie is running away from you.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got nine hours. You need a haircut. Maybe a suit. I’d say roses would be good, too.”

  “This is gonna cost me.”

  Matt snickered. “She worth it?”

  “Yeah. Shit.”

  ****

  This was ridiculous.

  Why she was here, in Suzie Matthew’s dining room, she didn’t know. Somehow she had allowed herself to be suckered into something she feared would turn around and bite her in the ass.

  Sure didn’t look like a book club meeting was about to happen here.

  That was why Suzie had called her this morning, begging her to come and contribute to the discussion on that new memoir by Grace Mortimer. The one where she traveled through Asia after her husband died from pancreatic cancer so she could find herself, and then lived three years with Monks in Indonesia, after which she adopted a little girl from Thailand who was suffering from some rare bone disease that made her bow-legged and brought her back to the states to raise, only to be discriminated against by her neighbors in her white-collar, gated golf community.

  At least that was what Suzie said.

  Katie didn’t even know if there were Monks in Indonesia, but Suzie insisted that the book was an up-and-coming bestseller and all the rage. Her editor had told her so. Not that Suzie’s cookbook editor would know diddly-squat about bestselling non-fiction, even if it was published with the same house.

  If she hadn’t been so busy this afternoon working on her own novel, she might have run out and checked the library catalog, to see what the heck Suzie was talking about.

  But she didn’t. She’d been too engrossed in her story. And it had been a while since she’d been able to let herself do that.

  Still, she agreed to come over. Be good to get out of the house. Socialize. And talk about books.