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

by Maddie James

  “Lyssa?” He said her name softly. She didn’t immediately turn. But Mack would not be denied and lifted her chin back up so he could peer into her eyes. Without a word, he took her lips again and finished the kiss.

  And oh, what a kiss.

  Mingling lips and lazy caresses swept across her mouth with a teasing of tongue and the promise of more to come. Lyssa was sure her heart had just stopped, then and there. Oh, my God.

  Am I falling head over heels or what?

  Finally, they separated and Mack whispered against her cheek, “I hate leaving things undone.”

  “Hot fudge,” she countered.

  “I’m all over it,” he replied.

  “No, I mean your kisses are better than hot fudge.”

  “Any reason we can’t enjoy both?”

  “No. But if we don’t get out of here, soon,” she confessed, “I’m going to be all over you.”

  Mack threw back his head and laughed.

  Chapter Eight

  Paws and Buttercup met them at the door. Lyssa had barely turned the key over when the golden bundles of fluff and dog flesh hit the wood, pawing and whining at their arrival. As she and Mack slipped inside her living room, the twins went into full-blown puppy attack at first sniff of their master.

  Mack fell to his knees and let the pups wallow him.

  “My God! I think they’ve grown!”

  Lyssa joined him on the floor. “It’s only been a week, Mack.”

  He grinned and roughed them both up. “I know. I’ve missed these little nuisance makers.”

  Buttercup jumped over into Lyssa’s lap. “Oh!” The pup licked her face. “I love you, too, Buttercup!”

  “Her kisses as good as mine?”

  Meeting Mack’s gaze, Lyssa grinned and said, “It’s a tossup.”

  With a sexy smirk, Mack rose and pulled her to her feet. Wrapping her up with his arms locked at her back, he held her close. “This is crazy. I feel like I’ve known you forever, and I just saw you for the first time about an hour ago.”

  “I know,” she agreed. “But we have sort of been talking for almost a week. If you can call emailing and texting talking.”

  He smoothed back a few stray hairs from her forehead. “Lyssa, I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. I guess I’m wondering what you might think of that.”

  Think? How about just kissing me again? Not a lot of thought required. “Mack, I would love to spend time with you.” Paws nudged at the back of her knee. “And you, too, Paws!”

  “I was just thinking. We haven’t gotten that hot fudge sundae yet.”

  “And the babies need to be walked. There is an ice cream place just a couple of blocks away. Do you have time this afternoon?”

  “I have all the time in the world.”

  ****

  They talked about the dogs, living in Legend, and the project left behind in San Diego; along with the puppy nanny business, his wife, Caroline, and the tragic automobile accident that took her life. He shared that they had moved to Legend a year or so before, because Caroline loved the small town and wanted to raise children there. Lyssa told him about living in Legend all her life and not imagining that she’d ever live anywhere else.

  Over hot fudge sundaes—including the mandatory whipped cream with cherry on top—

  they shared a couple of hours of conversation about their lives past and present, all leading up to where they sat right then, on a picnic bench outside of the Dairy Barn, while the pups played lazily in a grassy area nearby.

  By the time they returned to Lyssa’s place, Mack was yawning and the pups were ready to zone out on her couch; as had been their custom the past week, while she would watch the news and a couple of sitcoms.

  “You’re tired.”

  Mack rubbed a hand over his face. “I took a redeye last night. I never get much sleep on those flights. I should probably take the pups and head home. I’m not sure I can trust myself driving across town feeling this tired if I stay awake too much longer.”

  She was a little worried about that, too. Her hands snaked around his waist. How nice and firm he felt underneath that black t-shirt. “The pups will be fine here for the evening if you want to let them stay.”

  He searched her face. “I was hoping that perhaps, I would do the staying.”

  “Mack, I…”

  “I know. It’s too soon.”

  If the opportunity presents itself, you should take it. “I’m not sure…”

  “Lyssa, it’s okay.”

  “No, Mack. That’s not what I mean. I’m not sure it’s too soon. And right now, I’m pretty darned sure you shouldn’t be driving and…”

  Her hands smoothed up his chest and pushed the jacket off his shoulders. He continued to shrug out of it while keeping the gaze connected between them. “Lyssa…” he hissed.

  “Kiss me, Mack.”

  He sat on the sofa behind them and pulled her onto his lap. The pups jumped up and flanked them on either side, settling in with contented sighs. Cradled against him, Lyssa felt an elated sense of contentment and rightness, and wanted to heave a sigh of her own. This was all she needed.

  He traced her jaw line with a forefinger and then laid his palm flat against her neck and smoothed down over her collarbone. His touch trailed heat as he moved back up to angle her head so their lips could meet again. When they did, something surged inside of her and she turned, unable to get close enough.

  Holding her snug, Mack kissed her. The nibbles started slow and lethargic, gradually building to a full-mouthed, nearly out of control assault, of lips and tongues. By then, Lyssa had shifted to straddle him, his hands exploring up and down her back, and pulling in to linger at the sides of her breasts while she rained kisses over his face.

  She yanked back with a gasp and looked at Mack, slouched against her sofa, looking up at her with dreamy green eyes. Reaching, he grasped her ponytail and tugged away the band that held up her waist-length hair. Brunette waves cascaded down around her shoulders and with both hands, Mack wound his fingers into the mane and pulled her closer.

  “You are so damn sexy,” he whispered, urging her mouth closer, “and I want you so very much right now.”

  The rightness of them being together was what had swept Lyssa away from moment one, when she’d looked into his green eyes back at the B&B. She knew then, that Mack was different.

  Special. And the kind of man she wanted in her life. Settling for anything less, would be stupid and childish.

  “Worth waiting for,” she whispered.

  Mack grimaced. “Does that mean yes, or no?”

  She shook herself out of her musing. “I’m sorry. Thinking out loud. What I meant is that I’ve waited long enough. I don’t want to wait any longer. Mack, make love to me.”

  “I’m not going to make love and then leave. I want to stay the night.”

  “What do you want for breakfast?”

  “You.”

  With a sigh, Mack lunged upward and took her lips. Untangling his fingers from her hair, his hands dropped and he cupped both breasts. He thumbed her nipples and a conduit of passion shot through her.

  “Let’s take this to your bedroom,” he said.

  Lyssa didn’t have to be told twice. Backing off, she stood and held out her hands. He rose and the pups jumped up, too. Wagging tongues and big eyes full of expectation met them.

  A sinking feeling hit her gut.

  “I should put them in the crates.” He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “I guarantee you I do not want to be interrupted for the next few hours.”

  Crates. Shit.

  All the warm-and-fuzziness of the past few hours shifted into ribbons of panic across her chest.

  “Oh. Um. About those crates…”

  Mack reached for Paws’ collar, picked him up and started toward her kitchen, where they could see the portable crates from the living room. The unused-all-week, crates, she reminded herself.

  Dammit.


  Paws struggled in Mack’s arms. As he neared the crate, the dog started whining. When Mack lowered to flip open the latch and swing the door, Paws growled.

  Yes, growled.

  Buttercup barked and ran to nip at Mack’s heels.

  Lyssa raced to grab the female pup.

  “What the hell is wrong with them?”

  She met Mack’s gaze and shrugged.

  Paws was throwing a virtual puppy protest, waggling and growling. Buttercup panted, squirmed, and yelped in her arms.

  “Maybe if you put her in it will help.”

  Lyssa froze. The pups didn’t want to go in. And they’d not been in all week. She couldn’t do it then, and she couldn’t do it now. She stood, unmoving, while Mack struggled.

  “Damn.”

  Paws was in and the door latched. A howl went up from inside the cage that literally could wake the dead. It cut right through Lyssa, deep.

  Mack turned. “I thought you were putting her in?”

  “I, uh…”

  “Lyssa?”

  “She doesn’t like it.”

  Mack swiped a hand over his tired face. “Well, I’m not going to like her sticking her wet nose in places I don’t want her sticking it in, in a few minutes.”

  “I know. It’s just that...”

  He stared at her. “Lyssa, have these pups been crated all week?”

  “Well, I…”

  At her avoidance, Mack’s shoulder’s fell and suddenly he looked way too overwrought and tired. “Never mind. I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to that.”

  He took Buttercup out of her arms and in a quick motion, stuffed the whining dog into her crate, then turned to her.

  “Look, I’m too tired to get into this. I’m taking them home. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

  Alarm sped through her.

  Both dogs serenaded with howls and whines, interspersed with very loud barks.

  He reached for a handle. Then another.

  “Mack, I’m not sure you should be driving.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “But with them barking and everything and you being so tired, I’m worried.”

  “I’m fine.” He took several steps toward the door, struggling with the animals.

  “You’re mad at me?”

  He set them down and swiveled on his heel. “Lyssa, I’m exhausted, yes. I’m irritated, yes. I’m sexually frustrated, oh yes. And I don’t really want to walk out of here, but right now my brain is a little befuddled. Did you lie to me this week? I asked you if the dogs were in bed with you and you said no. But obviously, you’ve not crated them all week. They wouldn’t be reacting like this if you had. You disregarded my wishes.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m too tired to contemplate sorry right now. My brain is twisted up with the contradiction of wanting to sink myself into you all night long, and knowing that you were dishonest with me. I’m going home. I’ll talk with you tomorrow.”

  “Mack, I’m just a softy. I couldn’t put them in. I know I should have, but I didn’t, and truly, I’m sorry. Please stay for a few minutes so we can talk, and then maybe you’ll feel like spending the night…”

  His stare bit into her. “We’re rushing this, Lyssa. We both know it. Let’s give it some time.” Turning to pick up the crates, he headed for the front door, his back now to her. “Would you open that for me, please?”

  Lyssa hurried to the door. As he passed, she asked, “Will you text me when you are home, so I know you got there okay?”

  Pausing, he sidled a split-second glance her way. “Sure.”

  Then he was gone. And Lyssa just felt like her entire world had been turned upside-down.

  ****

  Home.

  That was the single word that came across in text on her cell phone Monday evening.

  All day Tuesday, she waited for his call. It didn’t come.

  On Wednesday, she got a check in the mail for her puppy nanny services. No note, just the check. For services rendered.

  Thursday morning she forced herself up and out of the house, and decided to check in with Sydney. She’d not been there all week, and a good cup of her coffee would do her good.

  She had to get out of this funk. And she needed someone to tell her not to call or text or email Mack, that he would communicate with her when he was good and ready.

  She feared he may never be good and ready.

  Chapter Nine

  “Yes. I understand, Mr. Connelly. Of course. We’ll get back with you ASAP.”

  Resisting the urge to slam down the phone, Mack checked himself and placed it with calm precision into the cradle, cursing under his breath. “Dammit.”

  Nothing had gone right all week. Not one blasted thing.

  The dogs were totally out of sync. The deal in San Diego was running south faster than a dealer moving a shitload of stolen pickup trucks over the border. And he hadn’t slept worth a damn for days.

  Yawning, he punched at the speaker button on his phone and dialed the team leader of his tech crew.

  “Yeah,” came the voice on the other end. He grimaced at the salutation. Didn’t the young man have any business etiquette about him at all?

  “Craig. What the hell happened on that call?”

  “I dunno, Mack. I thought we had it in the bag. The old guy was all for the plan when we left California Tuesday morning.”

  “That damned grandson of his…that’s what I think it is. Just because he’s a master of Facebook and LinkedIn and Twitters 24/7 doesn’t make him a marketing expert.”

  “You could be right.”

  “I am right.”

  “If you say so, boss.”

  “I do. Call him back. Convince the old man to sign. I’m tired of farting around. Better yet, get the grandson on the phone and see what his angle is. Seduce him with the short-term contract, if necessary. Three months, standard rate of pay. Maybe if we get the kid on board Grandpa will come around.”

  Three full seconds of silence met his ear. “Craig?”

  “I’m not sure including the grandson is a good idea. Grandpa seems mighty captivated with the kid. He’ll still only listen to him, and not us.”

  “But if we land the contract, we can control it from there.”

  “Bad idea.”

  Mack’s throat tightened. “I don’t recall asking you for your opinion, Craig. I believe I gave you an assignment.”

  “You hired me for my expert opinion. I thought I’d give it.”

  “I also believe I sign your paycheck.” Damned punk know-it-all. This week might be his last. “Do what I say. Call me back in thirty.” This time he did slam the receiver.

  Leaning over his desk, he kneaded his forehead with the fingertips of both hands.

  Headache. What the hell did he expect with no sleep? He contemplated whether he could sneak in a fifteen minute power nap before Craig called back. After all, that was a perk of working at home, wasn’t it?

  At once, Paws and Buttercup ripped through the house, down the hall, and into his home office. They skidded across the floors, their nails clattering against the wood. Buttercup dived face-first into his ankles as he turned toward the racket.

  “What the hell?”

  He glanced at his watch. Two-thirty. Forget the nap, it was an hour past their usual walk time. Maybe some fresh air would rejuvenate him anyway.

  Lyssa must have walked them early in the afternoon this past week. Like clockwork, they puppy-nagged him about this time every day. Moving toward the front door, they trailed behind while nipping at his heels. He lifted their leashes off the front door handle and snapped them in place on the dogs’ collars.

  Lyssa.

  She invaded his head whenever he allowed it to get too empty. He’d tried every attempt to fill his brain with work, every waking minute—which was a lot of minutes. The dogs had kept him up way too late every night with their yips and whines.

  He thought it would get better after a day or two.
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  He was wrong.

  It was all Lyssa’s fault.

  No. No it wasn’t. He was as stubborn as they came sometimes. He’d mulled his Monday night reaction over and over. He was tired, of course, and perhaps a little fearful of the possibility of starting a relationship. They were rushing, to be sure. Not to mention he was confused as to why she was dishonest with him about the crates.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “Was it really that big a deal?”

  I’m just a softy, Mack. I couldn’t do it.

  And was there anything wrong with being a softy? There were worse things, right?

  Right.

  Thing was, she had turned his world on its axel, and he didn’t quite know how to right it. Or if she would let him.

  Or did he?

  He stared down hard at the blond monsters chomping at the bit to get out the door.

  ****

  It’s Saturday night and I ain’t got nobody…

  Lyssa crashed her hand against the dial of her radio, blasting an oldies station. “It’s Friday night,” she said to no one in particular, “and who cares if I ain’t got nobody.”

  Well, truth be told, she did.

  But it wasn’t just nobody she was pining after. Mack was the object of her desire.

  Unfortunately, she’d almost given up hope of that happening.

  Once again, she’d screwed up by having to do things her way. With no contact at all this week, she was certain he was still pretty mad at her. She’d broken the puppy nanny code by getting personally involved and disregarding the owner’s wishes. She’d known what she was doing, and did it anyway.

  Came back to bite her in the butt. Big time.

  “No matter,” she said out loud while flipping through the pages of the latest Diva fashion magazine. “I’m just fine alone. It’s safe. No one is going to hurt me. And I can do whatever I want, all day long, all night long.”

  She batted through another dozen pages or so of the magazine.

  “I can go all weekend and not take a shower. I can eat ice cream naked. I can freakin’ sit here in my pajamas, like now, and read magazines all night while watching the Food Channel. And. No. One. Cares.” She slammed the magazine closed on her lap. “Not even me.”

  The smiling woman on the front cover mocked her. The headline next to her curvy body read, 25 New Tried and True Ways to Turn on Your Lover.