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

by Maddie James

  Becca’s chest got all tight and tingly, and her eyes stung a little.

  “My last relationship didn’t end so well,” she told him, “and he was pretty much a control freak, so much so that I didn’t realize until it was over how much of myself I lost. I’ve worked to build my life back and suddenly, I found myself wanting to share it again, and it was just...scary.”

  He cupped her cheek in his palm. “We have all the time in the world, honey. Things have moved fast. Let’s just slow down and enjoy falling helplessly and hopelessly in love. Sound like something you could live with?”

  Becca peered deep into his beautiful hazel eyes. Nothing had ever felt so right in her entire life. “Sounds like something I could live with for a long, long time.”

  MATE TO ORDER

  When Suzie’s success as a matchmaker hits the national scene about the same time as her debut cooking show on the Food Channel, her new producer comes to her with a list of requirements—not for Suzie’s job, but for a husband. Patricia Plum has a specific list and if Suzie really wants to make it big in New York City, she’ll make every attempt to deliver Patricia’s Mate to Order.

  Patricia Plum’s Husband List

  1. Clean-cut.*

  2. Older than 35.*

  3. Has had at least one serious, committed relationship and must be ready to commit.*

  4. No kids.

  5. Absolutely cannot work in the Food or TV industry (and that definitely means The Food Channel).

  6. No ick factors (i.e. foot fetish, bad breath, sex in public places, etc...).

  7. Has to be drop-dead gorgeous. Clean-cut. Did I mention that?

  8. Has an established, lucrative career/business/profession—in other words, supports self/has money.*

  9. Catholic.*

  10. Must love sushi.

  *non-negotiable

  Chapter One

  Suzie Matthews breathed deep, held that breath for two full seconds, and then relaxed with a lengthy sigh. Staring at the Manhattan high-rise to her right, her gaze steadily rose as she peered out from the grimy cab window. The light changed and the cab jerked, her body scooting forward with it, then falling back against the seat.

  Music and words circled inside her head.

  Start spreading the news...

  Da-da-da-dA-Daaaa.

  I want to, da-da-DA-da-DA, New York, New York...

  “I’m a part of it,” she whispered.

  “What honey?”

  Suzie hadn’t realized she’d said that out loud. Glancing to her left, she took in Patricia Plum’s smile. Patricia was the producer of her new show and quickly becoming a very good friend.

  “Nothing. Just mumbling to myself.”

  “Ah.” Patricia turned to look out her window, and Suzie followed suit on her side of the cab. “Can you believe you are here?”

  Inhaling deep, Suzie smiled at the window. “No. No, I can’t.”

  It had been a whirlwind, fairytale time. Three years earlier she was struggling through a divorce and trying to start her cooking classes and B&B business, all while writing her first cookbook. Then Brad came back into her life and they had their little boy, Petey, her cookbook became a bestseller, and now…now this! Her own television show!

  “Pinch me.”

  “Believe it, sweetie. Life is good.”

  She glanced again at Patricia, whose head rested against the back of the seat. Her eyes were closed, and she wore a slight smile on her face.

  “Good for you, too, Patricia?”

  She nodded and smiled bigger. “Your Matchmaking Chef show is going to be hot. It’s going to be good for all of us. I am so glad I discovered you!”

  Then, Patricia started humming from her side of the cab.

  Suzie guessed happiness was catching. Patricia did seem quite cheerful yesterday when she had picked Suzie up at the airport and as they shared dinner last night. She was excited about the show, of course, but there was a simple calm about her—not the frenzy they had all experienced back home in Legend, Tennessee at the first taping in Pigeon Forge—but something totally different. Relaxed, maybe.

  Perhaps it was because Patricia was in New York. In her element.

  She smiled at her new friend’s off-tune humming. It was a different song from Suzie’s, although she couldn’t quite make out what it was, because her own tune kept running through her ears.

  Earwigs, they call those. Right? When you can’t get a song out of your head?

  Ba-da-dA-da-Daaaaaa...

  Start spreading the news...

  “I’m gonna be a star,” she whispered, absolutely certain she was up for it.

  ****

  The pointed toes of Patricia Plum’s candy apple-red Jimmy Choo heels tapped out a rhythm on the vinyl floor mat. The darned tune got stuck in her brain two days ago when she’d come up with a harebrained scheme that she had yet to slide by Suzie.

  Ta-ta-ta, Ta-ta-ta, Ta-Ta-TA-TA!

  Ta-Ta-TA-TA! Ta-Ta-TA-TA!

  The cab rounded a corner, a little too sharp, and she opened her eyes to glance out at the street. Simultaneously, she rapped on the Plexiglas between them and the driver.

  “Hey! I said straight to 5th Avenue. Don’t go this way!”

  “Slight detour, miss,” he rattled out. “Traffic.”

  “No. No.” She glanced at Suzie who had now turned and was watching her. “Pull over. Let us out here. We can walk.”

  The cabby shrugged and did as she asked. Patricia glanced at the meter, tossed him a scowl and enough cash to pay for the ride plus a small tip. She pushed Suzie out the passenger side door.

  Scrambling, they reached the sidewalk and both women exhaled.

  Patricia watched Suzie, who was looking up—always was looking up, it seemed, since she’d arrived in the city the day before. She linked her forearm at the woman’s elbow. “It’s a beautiful day to walk, and it’s not that far now.”

  Grinning, Suzie nodded her agreement, which warmed Patricia’s heart.

  “Besides,” she added, “you’re in New York. We walk everywhere here.”

  She didn’t know why she was taken so with this country cook named Suzie Matthews, but she knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that she and Suzie would be fast and long friends. She also knew that Suzie was bound to be a star.

  Ever since their weeks in Legend, they’d clicked like peas.

  And the pilot they’d taped for her show went over famously.

  Patricia was going to have a kick showing her new protégé the finer points of New York City. Particularly, the cuisine.

  Not to mention, the men.

  Not that Suzie needed a man. She had the hunky, sinful Chef Brad wrapped around her delicate fingers. But Patricia was lacking in that department, and if Suzie’s matchmaking skills were as good as they say, and as she suspected...

  Well, she’d think more about that later.

  They walked arm-in-arm. Suzie still grinned in awe. Was she humming, too? Patricia strained to hear. Ah, yes, she was.

  Happy.

  Everyone was just happy!

  Her own tune invaded her head again, and she sang to herself. Why not?

  Matchbaker, matchbaker, bake me a match...

  No...make me a match, she thought with an inward giggle. But bake me a match was much more appropriate.

  Shit! What a great jingle for the show.

  Brilliant. She was just, brilliant.

  This was going to go well. All worries aside. Now, on to the studio.

  The duo marched forward. Glancing to her right, she asked, “Are you ready for your first day at work, Ms. Suzie the Matchmaking Chef?”

  “I’m scared as hell,” Suzie shot back. “But ready to dig in.”

  Patricia knew exactly how she felt.

  Chapter Two

  “Ah, c’mon, honey. You know that didn’t mean anything.”

  “Coop, you are one world-class Son. Of. A Bitch.”

  Ames Cooper closed his eyes but he could still see the naked
form of his latest girlfriend, Mel, standing at the foot of his bed. He laid there for a moment, his head propped up on his fist, savoring the picture and filing it away into some recessed file drawer in his head—the one with all of the other images of girlfriends and one-night-stands past.

  Someday, those ghosts would all come back to haunt him.

  In an instant, he popped the image away and sat up.

  “Now sweetheart. Don’t get so hot and bothered. It was just a little flirt action. That’s all.”

  Mel set a glass of water on the bureau, snatched his black t-shirt off the floor, and pulled it over her head. As she walked away, he could see the globes of her ass peeking out underneath.

  Damn. He was gonna miss that ass.

  Sass and ass. That was what he always called her. Maybe she was bluffing him with a bunch of sass right now.

  She stopped at the bedroom door and turned, her hand resting on the wooden frame at eye level. When she did that, the t-shirt rode up some. Lordamercy, what a sweet puss—

  “You left your laptop on, Coop. And your email up. And your instant messenger going. It was binging all over the place when I went to get water. Do I need to recite for you that little flirt action?”

  Hell. No. He didn’t.

  Rising, naked as well, he strode toward her. Just an hour earlier he’d been buried inside her, enjoying the sinful action of those hips his gaze was still locked into. “Aw, honey. Those emails and messages mean nothing. Just passing the time and delving into a little distraction while waiting for my film to develop. You know that you...” He grasped her elbow.

  She sneered and yanked it back. “Let me recite just one line, Ames Cooper, and you tell me how innocent this flirting was. I think it went something like this: ‘Ah, Coop, you know just how I like it…yesterday in the elevator was pure bliss.’”

  Those words stopped him stone cold. His hand dropped to his side.

  Busted.

  “I can explain.”

  “Like hell. You banged her in the elevator?”

  “Well, not really banged, it was just sort of an oral thing.”

  “Ah, shit, Cooper!”

  “Now, Mel.”

  “Don’t ‘Now Mel’ me. You are an asshole.”

  She turned and stalked off and he followed. “Wait a minute, Mel,” he shouted. “You were the one who said we weren’t making any commitments here. We were just trying this relationship on for size, and we were going to see how it worked and—”

  She whirled, eyes flashing. “And damned good thing, too. I wanted to see if you could actually semi-commit, Coop. We’ve flirted around with this thing for months. I now see why I was so cautious. You flunked.”

  “So, this was a test?” Mel was a teacher and he loved to play “hot for teacher” with her. Somehow, he didn’t think she was playing.

  “Just a quiz, school boy. You didn’t even make it to the test.”

  Busted, again.

  She shrugged into her jeans, slipped her feet into a pair of sandals, grabbed her bag and swung toward the door.

  “Goodbye, Coop. Have a great life. That is, if you can figure out what it is.”

  She left wearing his favorite black t-shirt. Dammit.

  Figure out what it is.

  Ames sat straight down on an ottoman and stared at the floor. Hell, he thought he’d already figured it out long ago. He knew who he was and what he was and he lived the life he wanted to live. But if that were the case, why did her parting words sting so much?

  Because he’d heard those same parting words in slight variation many times over the past few years.

  Get a life, Coop.

  Grow up, Ames. It’s time to be an adult.

  What is it you want to do with your life, Cooper?

  Will you ever settle down, Ames Cooper? Will you ever commit?

  Shit.

  The verbal files in his brain were spinning now, right alongside those old pictures. Just when he thought he had it all figured out, the past truly did come back to bite—his brain’s rolodex stopped twirling and lay open at one picture, one statement, that he’d never, truly, been able to get over.

  I fell in love with you, Coop. Against my better judgment, I let myself fall in love with you. And now this? It will be a long time before I trust you or any man...

  After losing her, he really hadn’t given a damn, figuring he was never going to get it right, anyway.

  From the bedroom, his alarm clock rattled. Rising, he glanced at the clock over the stove in his small apartment.

  Eight-thirty.

  “Dammit.” He had to be across town for a shoot at one o’clock and he had a ton of things to do before then.

  ****

  The skillet in Suzie’s hand tumbled end over end and banged on the floor. Thank God it was empty. Ten minutes later it would have been full of marinara sauce. Flustered, the chef skittered after it.

  “Cut.”

  “Slow down, honey. Relax.” Patricia rounded the counter. “Take a break, guys.”

  Suzie glanced up and met her gaze from where she was crouched behind the counter, reaching for the skillet. “Sorry.”

  “It’s just nerves.”

  “I know.” She stood and faced Patricia. “I thought that with all the cooking I’ve done in front of my students, the taping would be a piece of cake, but the cameras and the people milling about, I just wasn’t expecting all of the distractions.”

  “I know that.” This was to be expected. Suzie wasn’t a pro, but Patricia planned to make her one. “You’ll get the hang of it. In fact, I think you’ve done a pretty good job this morning.” She tugged at Suzie’s apron and tossed it on the counter. “Let’s go get some coffee. God, I wish I had some of your cinnamon brew.”

  “I brought some.”

  With a tic of her head, Patricia replied, “You didn’t.”

  “I have some back at the hotel. I despise hotel coffee.”

  “Enough to share?”

  “Of course.”

  Suzie grinned and Patricia sensed her relax some. Good.

  “I’ll bring it tomorrow,” Suzie added. “But right now, I would welcome a hot one, tall and black. With cinnamon or without.”

  Drumming her fingers on the counter, Patricia glanced off toward the coffee stand at the rear of the studio. “Huh. Tall and black. Like a man I knew once.”

  “Patricia!”

  She looked into Suzie’s Southern Belle round eyes. “Well, I was younger and...” It was a mistake. But she didn’t tell Suzie that.

  Suzie waved her hands in the air and frowned. “Patricia. Not an issue. I just never heard you mention having a man in your life.”

  “I didn’t. Don’t. Have a man in my life. All in the past.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Patricia shrugged and figured that Suzie must think all women need a man. “I do like men though,” she added quickly, lest Suzie get the wrong idea.

  “Well, me, too!” Suzie added.

  “You already have a man.”

  “That, I do.”

  “But some women do not.”

  “True.”

  “That’s why you being a matchmaker is so wonderful.” Okay, here I go, setting her up for the kill. “You know, to get women, and men, too, over the hump, so to speak. To help them make those connections that they might otherwise ignore, and end up alone and old and wrinkled like a prune without…uh, sex.”

  “Whoa,” Suzie said. “You’re really in a place here, aren’t you?”

  Patricia wasn’t sure to admit it or deny. “I’m just, well, unmatched at the moment and a little dis-satisfied with the whole couple thing.” There, somewhat of an admittance, she guessed. “Couple-dom just doesn’t seem to work for me.”

  Suzie smiled. “Well. Generally there is a deeper issue…”

  “Oh, hell, Miss Chef. Don’t go getting all clinical on me and everything. I just want a little action once in a while, you know?” Patricia had to change the atmosphere and fas
t—she wasn’t willing to get into therapy over the fact that she was prone to connect with commitment-phobic boyfriends.

  Suzie snorted. “I just enjoy helping people find their match,” she said. “Some just need a little bit more of a nudge than others in that department.”

  “Like me?”

  “You need a nudge, Patricia?” Suzie studied her, and then grinned. “A hot, tall, black one?”

  Patricia’s heart clutched and memories flooded back. “No. No. I’m over that. Truly.” Okay, just a little white lie there… “But I do have a list.”

  “List?”

  “Um-hm.”

  “Why is it that I feel this conversation is leading to somewhere I wasn’t expecting?”

  This was the point where Patricia knew she might have to grovel. “Suzie, you can do this one thing for me, right?”

  “What?”

  “Bake me a match. I mean, be my matchmaker. As much as I complain about not being good at relationships, I still want to try…”

  Suzie looked like someone had just thrown her a huge curveball—her brow wavy, her eyes squinty, and her mouth pursed into a little O.

  “No, Patricia. We had the show all worked out, remember? I can’t put you on the show.”

  Patricia shook her head. “Oh no! Not what I mean, Suzie. You could do this for me on the side, right? It’s not a huge list nor too complicated, and I know you don’t really know anyone in New York right now, but I would love it if you would keep your eyes and ears open and...”

  She stopped and bit her lower lip, scrutinizing Suzie. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a piece of paper folded into a perfect square and shoved it into Suzie’s hands. “Here. I’m not necessarily married—ha! no pun intended—to everything on that list, but it’s a start. Some things are negotiable given the right circumstances. I’ve starred the things that are non-negotiable. Absolutely non-negotiable. What do you think?”

  Suzie glanced at the list and back into her face. “What do you think I am? Some short order cook who can whip you up a mate to order?”