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

by Maddie James

  I’m perfectly happy with my life. I’m too damned busy right now to add a woman to it. Maybe down the road some.”

  “Just as long as you haven’t given up on women altogether.”

  Not in this lifetime. “No ma’am.”

  “Good. Then when you are ready, let me know, and I’ll fix you up. They are calling me the Matchmaking Chef these days, you know?”

  He harrumphed again. He had heard that. Might as well go with it and change the subject. “Okay, Suze. Hey, we’ll be back in the morning, all right?”

  “Sure.” She fiddled with some tools in the basket. “I have a book signing at two in Pigeon Forge so will be gone, oh, from about noon until six or so. Brad and Petey will be with me, but you know where we keep everything.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I hate to make you work on a Saturday.”

  He grinned. “Suzie, you know I’d be working somewhere, anyway. I love what I do.”

  “I do know that.”

  Truth is, growing plants and landscaping was his passion.

  He’d not wanted to do anything else since he was a kid growing up on his parents’ farm. Biggest reason why he’d gone to college was to major in Agriculture, then quite by surprise, he found his way into a horticulture class which opened up a whole other venue for him. What surprised him even more, was that his younger brother Jack followed in his footsteps. Haven’s Hill Nursery & Landscaping was ten year’s old and prospering. Largely because he and Jack did a lot of the grunt work, alongside his crews. Hey, it kept him fit and tan, and he’d heard the girls liked that.

  Girls. He was thirty-seven. Women, not girls. But just where were all the available women in Legend?

  Nowhere.

  The raven-haired one was definitely not from Legend. But from where?

  “So she wants to move them, huh?”

  Sam swiped his brow. Jack had joined him, and Suzie was now tottering off toward her wildflower garden with a pair of scissors in one hand and her basket in the other. “Could have predicted that.”

  Jack chuckled. “Here. Let’s get this done. Maybe we can con her into a cold one on her deck before we leave.”

  “I was counting on that.”

  Both men started digging.

  Chapter Two

  People were lined up out the door. At the last minute, Nora and Becca decided to conduct a lottery for tickets to attend the press conference prior the book signing. Nora was a freakin’ mess, and Becca was beside herself trying to keep her best friend from flittering away into nothingness, keeping the fans at bay, and dealing with the NY publicist and the producer from The Food Channel. The author, Suzie Matthews, was surprisingly calm.

  “This is mega-big,” she muttered, while watching the surreal scene before her. Nora was chatting with the author in front of the signing table. The television people were setting up lights and microphone booms. A makeup girl was puffing and brushing and flitting around both Suzie and Nora. And The Food Channel woman was making a beeline straight toward Becca.

  Plum. Her name was Patricia Plum. Not usually one to remember names, Becca had decided early on that this one was a keeper in her brain.

  “May I help you, Ms. Plum?”

  “Water. We need three bottles of water.”

  She nodded. “Coming right up. I have them chilling in the back.” She headed for the storage room. The click of Patricia’s heels followed, and she glanced over her shoulder.

  “I need a quiet moment, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.”

  Patricia followed her into the storage room.

  A minute later Becca closed the door behind them, shutting out the noise. Moving to the small cooler with bottled water, she reached for one, wiped it off with a paper towel, and handed it to Patricia. She then gathered two more.

  Patricia leaned against a shelf and put the icy bottle next to her forehead. “I have one mother of a headache.”

  Becca understood. She had a wee one, herself. “I’ve got something for that. Hold on.” With the keys dangling from the lanyard around her neck, she unlocked a filing cabinet drawer and pulled out her purse. From there, she fished around for a bottle of aspirin and handed it to Patricia.

  “Thank, God. And, you.”

  “Bad one?”

  Patricia twisted the bottle cap and shook out a couple of white pills. “Bad enough. Stress. Didn’t sleep a lot last night. In fact, haven’t slept a lot in weeks.” She met Becca’s gaze head on, then tossed the pills in her mouth and took a drink of the water. “My entire career is resting on this new show,” she added after swallowing.

  “Suzie’s show?”

  “Yes. It’s different. It could be a winner or a bust. She’s an unknown in New York. But I want to give her a shot. Feel it in my gut.”

  “Seems like she’s pretty popular around here.”

  Patricia nodded. “I have to sell her to the nation though. I swindled the network for a few episodes. I have to make this work. She’s got a unique enough angle, I just hope it flies.”

  Becca didn’t realize Suzie had an angle. She should really pay more attention to the foodie trend, she guessed. “Angle?”

  Handing the aspirin bottle back to Becca, she said, “Oh, yes. Suzie is The Matchmaking Chef. Didn’t you know? That’s her new show. And we’re featuring her just contracted cookbook, Perfectly Matched in the deal. Helluva marketing plan. We’re even going to feature some of her matchmaking successes on the show.” She glanced at her watch. “Damn. It’s almost time. I have to get back out there.”

  She capped her water bottle and exited the storeroom.

  Becca stared after her. Suzie Matthews from Legend is a matchmaker? Who knew?

  Quickly, she left the storage room herself and joined the others near the signing table. Soon, Nora stepped beside her, her face beaming. She knew this moment was important for Nora and the store. Becca heard things like, “quiet on the set” and “places, please,” and “rolling” and then Suzie was being interviewed for the local television, followed by the TV crew taking footage of Suzie’s publicist announcing the launch of her book tour and then, Patricia Plum stepping up to the mic and announcing Suzie’s new show, The Matchmaking Chef, on The Food Channel.

  Nora was practically squirming beside her. Becca glanced again to her friend’s face. Something was going on.

  “And we are so happy to share,” Patricia went on, “that one of Suzie’s first episodes on The Matchmaking Chef, will feature recipes from her upcoming cookbook, Perfectly Matched, along with a matchmaking episode featuring Pigeon Forge’s very own Nora Patterson, owner of Nora’s Novel Niche!”

  The crowd clapped and hooted and Nora was waved closer to the camera and mic. She skittered forward, glowing and grinning, and glanced sideways at Becca—who was sure her mouth was hanging six inches from the floor.

  The hussy!

  ****

  Later, after the book signing was over, the crowd diminished, the camera crew gone, the New York people tucked into a cab headed toward the airport, and Suzie and her cute hubby on their way back to Legend, Becca looked at her best friend and said, “What in the world are you doing?”

  Nora shrugged. “I hired her. Sort of. Well, that’s how it started, anyway.”

  “What?”

  “Well, we were talking, Suzie and me, about the matchmaking thing. I was going to hire her to fix me up. We talked about a nice picnic lunch in the mountains. Maybe a blind date. And then that Plum woman overheard us, and the thing started snowballing, and before I knew it, I was signing something that said I agreed to be on an episode. Ack!”

  “But you’re off men.”

  “It’s just TV. Acting.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right, Nora.”

  “Truly!”

  “Sounds a bit like reality TV to me.”

  “Well, maybe a little.” One corner of Nora’s mouth drew up. “Patricia said I had good looks for television.”

  Well, of course you do. That
’s a given.

  “And it would be wonderful promotion for the bookstore.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. Are you really doing this?”

  “Yes!”

  Becca shook her head. “You forgot all about our calamari vow.”

  “I’m not sure that vows made over calamari and martinis can be taken seriously.”

  “I took it seriously.” Dammit, I sacrificed a date with Mr. Hunky Gardener.

  Nora stared at her. “Becca, you haven’t wanted a boyfriend in forever. I want a boyfriend! Okay, so I’m breaking the calamari vow.”

  “Dammit.” That time she said it out loud…it came from her own mouth and she wasn’t quite sure why. What did it matter if Nora wanted to date? To be on a television show? What was it to her?

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It didn’t change things one bit in Becca’s life.

  I just don’t want to have to pick up the Nora pieces again.

  “This is a good thing, Becca. Be happy for me! It will be fun.” She jumped a little and twittered about. “Hey! You can come with me. Check him out for me from the side.”

  Becca studied her friend’s face. “No, Nora. This is your doing. Don’t drag me in the middle of this, you hear? Because I am off men. Totally. I am keeping our calamari vow. You hear me? I am soooo off men.”

  Nora gave her a hug and squeeze, her eyes twinkling.

  “Sure. Got it.”

  ****

  Easing himself down into a padded lounge chair on Suzie’s back deck, Sam exhaled long and stretched his aching legs out over the footrest. His brother, Jack, reached an icy beer his way. “Oh, yeah...” Sam said. “I am so ready for that.”

  “Just glad this job is done.”

  “Ditto.”

  “Figured Brad owed us a beer.”

  “He’ll gladly give up a few beers in exchange for him not moving those hostas around.”

  “Speak of the Devil.”

  Both men turned toward the sound of tires crunching on gravel coming up the drive at the side of the house. They watched as Brad and Suzie parked the car and sauntered toward the deck.

  “Hey guys,” Suzie called out. “Looks like you’ve been working hard.”

  “Just a tad,” Sam said. “Hey, where’s Petey?”

  “We dropped him off at my parents. Been a long day, and I for one am looking forward to a long hot bubble bath,” she winked at her husband, “for two.”

  Sam and Jack glanced away.

  Then Suzie changed the subject. “Oh, everything looks lovely, guys!”

  Sam tipped his head. “As I always say, we aim to please, Ms. Famous Cookbook Author.”

  “And soon to be television personality,” Brad added.

  Sam sat up. “Television? No joke?”

  Suzie nodded. “I’m going to have my own show on The Food Channel.” Then she did a real girly thing and squealed. “Oh my God!” She grasped Brad’s arm. “I can’t believe this!”

  Standing now, Sam reached out to shake Brad’s hand.

  “Well, congratulations there, Mr. Matthews. You’ve got yourself a TV wife.”

  Brad smirked and shook his hand. “Just wait. I may not be the only one.”

  Sam didn’t understand that.

  Suzie elbowed her husband. “Sam, I thought about this all the way home. You’re perfect. Perfect! With those biceps and that tan of yours, the camera will eat you up. And so will your date. You have to say yes. It won’t take up too much of your time, and it’s going to be taped right here in the mountains, so please, just say yes.”

  Suddenly, Sam was damn certain he didn’t like the sinking feeling in his gut. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “I’ve found you a date. A match! She’s perfect for you. And all you need to do is go on a little picnic up in the mountains. A blind date, sure, but you can handle that. Just you and the girl, and me and lunch, and well, the camera crew.”

  “Camera crew?” Sam backed off, easing his way toward the deck steps. “Oh, no.” He didn’t need no stinkin’ matchmaker to get him a girl. “Hey Jack, buddy, it’s time to go.”

  His brother chuckled and stood. “Sounds like this is just getting good.”

  “Oh, please say yes, Sam! You’ll get paid, and you’ll be on national television!”

  “Hell’s bells, Suzie! I’m a gardener from Legend. I’m not TV material!”

  “Maybe not,” she countered, “but you are husband material. And I’m not taking no for an answer, Sam Ackerman.”

  Even as he was shaking his head and backing away from Suzie, affirming to himself with each step of the way that he was not blind date, television, or husband material, he feared that sooner or later, Suzie would bat her Southern Belle eyes and get her way.

  Dammit.

  Chapter Three

  “I really, really need for you to come with me. Please?”

  Shit. Damn. And no freakin’ way.

  It was Saturday morning, one week after the book signing and Becca was standing in the door of her apartment looking out at Nora. Her friend wore jeans, hot pink rhinestone-studded flip flops, and a matching pale pink tank top layered over another white tank. Her newly sprayed-on tan perfectly complimented the pastel pink. Her long hair was down, framing her face, her makeup perfection. She looked very, very beautiful.

  Like a Barbie doll.

  Her date would find her extremely difficult to resist, she was certain.

  “You don’t need me there, Nora. You’re going to do just fine on your own. Besides, Suzie is so easy to deal with, any nervousness you might have she’ll immediately put at ease.

  “I need you, Bec. Please?” She had that don’t make me beg look on her face.

  “Crap, Nora! You don’t need me hanging around like a third wheel, like some...side dish!”

  “Puh-lease?” Nora pouted. “I need for you to check him out. You know I have a difficult time with first impressions. I love every man who shows me the least bit of attention. I need an impartial party.”

  Sucker.

  She raked her fingers through a strand of hair. “I need a shower.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “I can meet you.”

  “I’ll wait. Go.”

  Becca resisted the urge to grumble. “I need thirty minutes.”

  “We’ve got plenty of time. Why do you think I got over here so early?”

  “Conspiracy.”

  “You’ll love it.”

  “Doubt that.”

  “Go, Becca!”

  “Sheez!” Okay, so I’m going. Against my better judgment, but all right. I’ll be the side dish. I’ll observe from the periphery. I’ll tell you later what I think. I won’t get involved.

  Won’t. Get. Involved.

  Repeat.

  I won’t get involved.

  ****

  Beneath a lazy maple sat a wooden picnic table draped in a bright red and white checked tablecloth. Becca watched, from the sidelines of course, as Suzie set the table with red dishes, white cloth napkins, and wicker accents. From a picnic basket sitting on a table off to the side, she prepared her dishes for the lunch.

  Television people milled about, Nora was off being prepped by Ms. Plum, and Becca was perfectly happy to ease out of the chaos while leaning against a tree trunk, far from the maddening crowd.

  She watched Nora, who was smiling and giddy. She’d been in contact with both Suzie and Patricia all week, getting pointers on this and that. She’d even had a private lesson with an acting coach just to settle her nerves. The one thing she hadn’t concentrated on too much was the fact that she was going to meet a man—a man who might potentially be her mate. Becca hadn’t dwelled on it, either.

  Now, however, it weighed on her mind.

  On one hand, Becca wanted Nora to find someone who would be perfect for her. And, if Becca would admit it, she truly wanted to be there for Nora, to help her make this decision. On the other hand, she wanted no part of helping Nora to select a m
ate, because, well, what if she chose wrong? What if her gut instincts about the man were not on track?

  She certainly didn’t want anything to come between them and their friendship. But also, she didn’t want Nora to end up getting hurt again. So truly, she had no choice here. She would peruse the date. Listen from the sidelines. Take in the nuances of the man. And later, tell Nora exactly what she thought.

  “This whole thing is rather crazy, isn’t it?”

  Jerked out of her musing, Becca glanced to her right and pushed away from the tree.

  Holy shit!

  Where he came from, she didn’t know, but before her stood a man. Tan, tall, and tantalizingly delicious. He was buff—the kind of buff that made you think he probably got that way from working outside, rather than working out in a gym.

  Because, of course, that’s what he did. Work outside. Like, in a nursery.

  Mr. Gardener Man?

  No way!

  Did he remember her?

  Becca sucked in a breath. He stood hands on hips peering back at her. Her gaze lingered for a moment at his waist—crisp white shirt tucked into worn jeans anchored by a brown leather belt at narrow hips—then slipped lower.

  Crotch. Muscled thighs. Oh be still my thumping, pumping heart.

  “Yeah, crazy, huh?” Did those words come from her mouth?

  Pulling her gaze back up to look into his eyes, her mouth went dry. Hazel, with sunlight reflecting a bit of gold and lavender. Framed by thick lashes and perfectly arched brows, they connected with hers and held. A breeze wafted between them and he reached up to smooth back his tousled, brown hair. His fingers were long, his hands large.

  Just as she’d remembered.

  Her heart kicked up a beat.

  “Where. Wha... Um. Where did you come from?” Did her tongue work?

  He shifted and looked over his shoulder. “I came early and parked over there at that camp site. I figured I’d be more comfortable if I could check out the scenario ahead of time before all the hoopla started.”

  Smart man. Was this...?

  “Name’s Sam Ackerman.” He thrust out his hand. “And you are...?”

  Spellbound.

  His voice was smooth like really, really good bourbon. She hadn’t remembered that. Her hand drifted up and he took it.