Mister Match (The Match Series Book 1) (17 page)

“And that’s your Mister-Match theory,” Lisa said. “Matching up idiosyncrasies. But that’s such a limited way to find something special with someone. I mean, what about all the way more important things in life, like—” She stopped, seeming to be thinking about something, and then shook her head. “Wait, I thought you were going to tell me how things ended with your ex-wife.”

“I am. The point of telling you about my mom is, I always swore that would never be me. And then there I was, married and divorced before I was even out of my mid-twenties.” He shrugged. “That’s why I started Mister-Match.com, and it’s also why I’ll never get married again.”

Lisa blinked. “Wait a minute. You’re Mister Match, but you’re never getting married again? Sorry, but that doesn’t quite compute.”

Adam spread his hands, hoping he could make her understand. “I believe in marriage as an ideal, and as an institution. Just maybe not for me, or for people in my family. My marriage with Ivana was pretty much a train wreck, and our breakup was probably the best thing that could have happened, although I definitely didn’t feel that way at the time.”

“Isn’t that always the way?” Lisa commented dryly.

“I guess it is.” He frowned at his hands. “You know, Dan was around when I got involved with Ivana, and he was there when we broke up. He’s my business partner, but before Mister-Match ever existed, he was my best friend. Still is. I even went out to Connecticut and stayed with him and his wife, Rachel, for a little while after Ivana left me. While I was getting my head back together.”

“Ivana left you?”

“She did.” He turned his wine glass in a meditative circle on the tablecloth. “She cheated on me, and then she left me.”

“She cheated, and she left?” Lisa scowled. “See, your very first mistake was marrying a woman named Ivana. You never marry an Ivana. Don’t even get involved with an Ivana. Ivanas are trollops. A few dates, some casual sex, okay, sure, fine. But marrying an Ivana? That’s just asking for trouble.”

He laughed. “Maybe so. Ivana was a good person, she just...”

“Just what?” Lisa prompted.

“She just wasn’t very good at the whole monogamy thing,” he finished wryly. Which, of course, was the understatement of the century. Ivana had seemed to have zero acquaintance whatsoever with the concept. “One of many things I regret from that time is staying to try to work it out, instead of just leaving as soon as I found out. I should have just called it quits. I guess that’s another example of me avoiding reality.”

He glanced at Lisa, needing to know what she was thinking. He was relieved to find she wore a compassionate expression.

“I don’t know,” she said, after a moment. “I think it’s kind of sweet. You married her for better or for worse, right? So you tried to work it out, even when all the signs said it was over. I think that shows strength, which you shouldn’t regret.”

His smile was rueful. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m not sure you’re right about that. Anyway, I guess you could say I went a little crazy for a few months after Ivana left. I, uh—” He cleared his throat, shifted in his chair. “I dated around a lot. I guess I was trying to prove I could still find someone who thought I was, you know, attractive. Desirable.” He squinted at her, feeling embarrassed, hoping she wouldn’t get the wrong idea. “I guess that’s pretty stupid, huh?”

“Dated around,” Lisa repeated, her tone a bit flat. She wasn’t quite looking him in the eye.

Adam felt an odd sinking sensation in his stomach. It seemed she was getting the wrong idea. The only good thing about it was the possibility that it could mean she was jealous. At least, if she were jealous, it might be because she was as attracted to him as he was to her.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her.

She sighed. “That euphemism, ‘dating around.’ I’m sure you were doing more than just going out on dates.”

“Ah.” He laughed uncomfortably. “I guess so. Sometimes. But that whole, dark period was only for a few months after the divorce. And then I pretty much turned into a monk, which is how it’s been ever since.” He looked her in the eye again. “That is, until now.”

Lisa held his gaze as a pulse of energy thrummed between them. It was the energy of sexual awareness, he thought, mixed with a question—the question of what their relationship truly was, and where it was headed. Not in the eyes of the media, but in real life.

There was something else, too. Adam could still see a hint of doubt in Lisa’s brown eyes. “Are you—” He cleared his throat. “Are you worried I’m some kind of womanizer? Like, a Casanova type?”

She bit her lip for a moment before nodding. “Maybe a little bit.”

He let out a breath. How could he address this properly, once and for all, so she didn’t have to worry about it, ever again?

“Look.” There was a distinctly defensive edge to her voice. “In my experience, men who are too good-looking just aren’t trustworthy. And you’re really, really good-looking. And I probably don’t need to remind you, my last relationship was nothing but lies.”

So that was why she’d probed into his relationship and breakup with Ivana. She was trying to determine whether he was trustworthy.

Perversely, he wanted to jump up and cheer, pump a triumphant fist in the air. Sure, she’d as good as said he couldn’t be trusted, but she’d also said she thought he was handsome. And she’d referred to her “last relationship,” insinuating she was in another one now, with him.

His instincts told him to count this as another point in the maybe-she-really-likes-me column. But he didn’t want to assume anything, so he didn’t jump up or pump a fist in the air.

Instead, he focused on what she’d just said. “You think good-looking men can’t be trusted? Any of them?”

“I don’t know, maybe beautiful women are the same.” She frowned. “It’s like attractiveness and trustworthiness are mutually exclusive. They can’t coexist in the same human being.”

“But you’re gorgeous,” Adam pointed out, “and you’re honest.”

“Oh, now.” The compliment seemed to embarrass her. She looked as if she didn’t know where to place her hands or rest her gaze.

“Lisa,” Adam said, willing her to look at him. “I haven’t been with a woman in a long, long time. That’s the truth. Here’s another truth: I haven’t wanted to be with anyone, until I met you.”

Now that it was out in the open, he felt freer, lighter, as if he’d let go of a load he hadn’t realized was heavy. “I feel like I was asleep,” he went on, realizing as he spoke just how true it was. “Like I was moving through my life on autopilot. Or maybe I just hadn’t met anyone worth taking a second look at, until I met you.”

He looked at her intently. “And then a week or so ago, I checked into the Keiko and scheduled a massage, and there you were. And as soon as I met you, I just...woke up.” He shrugged. “I don’t know how else to explain it. But I knew as soon as we met that I wanted—I needed—to get to know you.”

She didn’t respond right away, as if she were having trouble taking in what he’d just said, what he’d just admitted.

Watching her, he smiled. He reached across the table to touch the spot between her eyebrows with the pad of his thumb. “Do you know you get this intense little expression in your eyes, this little line right here, when you’re thinking something over? It’s really cute.”

She was staring at him, her dark eyes luminous and unreadable, and he felt as if she were about to say something, something important—

And then the waiter arrived with their food, breaking the intimacy of the moment. And Adam wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or disappointed, or a bit of both.

Chapter
19

____________________________________

L
isa was staring down at her plate. “Well, this sure beats popcorn.”

Adam laughed and looked down at his own plate, decorated with tender slices of roast duck and a bowl of French tomato bisque. “It beats most things I eat on a regular basis.”

“Yeah.” She shook her head in apparent wonder at the elegant arrangement of fresh ruby trout, roasted tomatoes and asparagus spears, and new potatoes dotted with garlic and rosemary. “I feel like a queen.”

She took a bite, and then sighed in pure sensual pleasure. Adam watched her for a moment, allowing himself a few seconds to appreciate those full, dusky lips, that long neck, that expression of pure pleasure.

How he would love to put that look in her eyes with his hands, with his mouth and tongue.

Oh, good Lord.
No wonder he didn’t want to discuss their impending breakup. He had it really, really bad for this woman. “How is it?” he asked, brightly. He needed something, anything, to distract him from his thoughts, or else he would be on her in a moment like an animal, public setting be damned—or, worse, he’d be begging her to make their relationship real instead of continuing on pretense.

“It’s wonderful,” she said. “Everything tastes like heaven.”

He raised his wine glass. “Then let’s make a toast. To popcorn and ruby trout. And to enjoying the spoils of success and living as well as we deserve, at least occasionally.”

Lisa grinned and raised her own glass. “To all of that.” She touched the side of her glass lightly to his, then took a sip.

“Is the wine all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “It’s better than all right. It’s perfect.”

“It’s not a bad pairing with the trout?”

She frowned briefly, then looked as if she was about to laugh. “It’s just right.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged. “Just, ordering the right wine to go with my meal, or vice versa, has never been something I’ve paid much attention to.”

“You know, me neither.” He grinned. “A good glass of wine, any wine, just seems to go well with everything.” He sliced off a bit of duck and held out his fork toward her, one hand beneath it to catch any drips. “Here, try this. It’s amazing.”

She hesitated.

“Go ahead,” he urged.

“Um, okay.” Tentatively, she leaned forward and accepted the bite, and chewed slowly.

“Wow.”

He nodded. “Right? It’s the most tender thing I think I’ve ever tasted.” He reached over and used his fork to section off a bite of her trout. “Hope you don’t mind,” he said, flashing her a quick grin.

“Of course not,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation—so brief, really, he wondered if he’d imagined it.

She was staring at his mouth. Maybe, he thought, she knew how he felt—so attracted to her, he nearly couldn’t think straight. Maybe she even felt the same.

Except she probably didn’t. And he definitely shouldn’t act on his feelings. It wouldn’t be right. Would it?

Was there any real reason their arrangement had to be completely pretense?

“We come from very different backgrounds, you and I,” Lisa said.

He stopped chewing, and then swallowed. On second thought, maybe he’d misread her expression. Maybe she wasn’t staring at him out of the same pure desire and connection that he was feeling, after all.

He took another sip of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know. Just that this—” She gestured toward the room in general. “This seems to be your natural habitat. Linen, expensive wine, French food. Mine is more along the lines of poly-cotton, Pepsi and French fries.”

He laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

She took a bite of her potatoes, as if using the pause to lighten things up between them. When she finished chewing, she patted her mouth with her napkin. “No, I’m serious.”

He squinted at her. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

She looked disconcerted for a moment. “Well, I mean, the limo, the hotel, the restaurant, the hundred-dollar tip after last week’s massage—”

“That’s not how I grew up, at all. And it’s not actually representative of my life now, either.” Something about this turn in the conversation was troubling him. He frowned, struggling to put it into words. “You don’t think I’m the kind of person who would look at any differences between us and judge you for them, do you?”

She frowned, as if considering. “No. I don’t think you’d do that. I just feel a little out of my element with you. You’re used to a lifestyle that I can’t afford, much less would I ever consider it a normal way to live. The truth is, it throws me a little bit off balance.”

She had lifted a shoulder while explaining, and his gaze dropped to track the movement, the curve of her neck and shoulder, the waves of her hair where they caressed her skin.

She was such an interesting, complex series of contradictions. Hesitant, but strong. Incredibly sweet, but also hard-edged. Vulnerable and easily affected, and yet definitely holding herself aloof.

He could tell that honesty was the best approach with Lisa. “Differences don’t bother me,” he said. “Although I don’t think we’re nearly as different as you’re painting us.” He leaned in again. “When I look at you, all I see is class and intelligence. You fit in here just as well as anyone. You’d fit in anywhere, Lisa.”

She just stared at him, and he thought he saw a little quiver at the base of her throat, the flutter of her pulse, moving rapidly under her skin. Nerves, he realized, and couldn’t help but feel just a little bit triumphant. She was as affected as he was—he would bet anything on it. The thought made him want to laugh and then shove the table aside to pull her into his arms.

“I hope you’ll show me your world,” he added. “Soon.”

“Sure, yeah, no problem,” she agreed, keeping her voice light. “If you come back to Austin, I’ll drive you around town in my old Toyota. I call her Betty. Betty has no A/C, and the passenger-side door doesn’t open from the inside, so you have to reach out the window to open it. You can come to my apartment and sit on my couch that I got at the Salvation Army, which Clare won’t sit on because she says it smells like her grandparents’ basement. And I’ll give you some Pepsi to drink and some popcorn to snack on—as I’m sure you know by now, popcorn is kind of my go-to dinner—and you can meet my cat, Mr. Monkey.” She’d been smiling, but now she gazed at him frankly. “That’s my world, Adam. That, and work.”

She raised challenging eyebrows, eyeing him over the rim of her glass as she finished off her wine.

Boy, did she have a lot to learn about him. “Actually, that sounds pretty nice.” He reached across the table to refill her wine glass.

“Yeah, right.” She narrowed her eyes at him teasingly. “You wouldn’t last five minutes in a car without A/C.”

He chuckled. “I really don’t know where you got your ideas about who and what I’m all about, but I think you’ve got me all wrong.” He shrugged. “But that’s okay. There’s plenty of time for us to get to know each other better.”

Which, of course, could be a problem. He was starting to realize he wasn’t going to be satisfied with getting to know Lisa DeLuca on false pretenses. He wasn’t going to be satisfied with getting to know her only on a professional basis, or even a social one.

He wanted to know her thoroughly, intimately, inside and out. And he wanted her to know him. And considering the fact that they were supposed to stage a very public breakup in a matter of weeks, that didn’t seem possible.

T
he hotel’s entry lights were dimmed by the time they returned.

“Thank you for dinner,” Lisa said again. “It was really lovely.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Adam smiled down at her, his hand once again on her lower back as they walked through the lobby. She really, really liked the warmth his palm created there. She would walk in these stupid heels forever if it meant he would keep his hand right where it was.

She was feeling loose, probably from the wine. Two glasses was her usual limit, but she’d ended up finishing off three, as Adam had ordered a second bottle halfway through dinner.

Wooing with food, indeed. She could only imagine what Clare would have to say about two bottles of wine on top of ruby trout, roasted duck and crème brûlée for dessert.

She dangled her purse from her fingers as they walked slowly to the elevators. She was looking up at Adam, about to ask him a question about tomorrow, when a swell of voices and laughter intruded on her comfortably hazy state of mind.

A group of people were ahead of them, heading for the elevators.

“Uh-oh,” Adam murmured, dipping his head close to hers. “Looks like it’ll take forever to get an elevator. Maybe we should take the stairs.”

Lisa glanced dubiously at her impractical shoes. “You’d have to carry me.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. The look in his eyes as he looked down at her was pure heat, and she felt her stomach do that drop-and-thrill thing it had taken to doing about every other second that she spent in Adam’s company.

He appeared to be about to respond when she heard her name called out in an incredulous and all-too-familiar deep voice.

She froze, and then winced. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Adam’s expression sobered. “What’s wrong?” He took her hand. “Are you all right?”

She rolled her eyes, at herself, at her reaction, at the utter randomness and stupidity of the situation. “Of course. Of
course
. This is just so—”

“Lisa, is that you?”

She turned, squinting against the sudden pain hammering behind her right eye. “Rodney. We really have to stop meeting like this.” What the hell was he doing here? Out of all the places in the great state of Texas, how had he ended up in this exact hotel, on this exact night?

Rodney was making a big show of laughing, his over-large Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, as if he were pleased at the coincidence of running into her for the second time in a week. “Well, well. You’re all dressed up. I had no idea you even owned a dress.”

It was a well-aimed jab. When they were dating, he had often accused her of not caring enough about her appearance and the way she presented herself to the world. She still had lingering insecurity about her looks and her fashion choices as a result.

She managed a tight smile, even as she envisioned shoving a stick of dynamite down his throat, or better yet, up his ass. At least this time, running into him, she didn’t feel sick, unlike last week, when seeing him had made her want to throw up. Although, if she did start to feel queasy, she would definitely aim for his shoes.

“Adam,” she said, mechanically, “this is my ex. The one I told you about.”

“Oh.” He said it significantly, and slipped an arm around her waist.

She blinked at the sudden, intimate warmth, and felt a flush bloom up her neck.

Rodney was looking Adam up and down, and then he was staring again at Lisa. “Is this your—”

“Her fiancé. That’s right.” Adam extended a hand for him to shake. “Adam Masters.”

An intense wave of giddiness rushed through Lisa as the two men shook hands. Adam was her fiancé. It was all she could do not to yell out,
In your face, Rod!

“Rodney Otis.” Rodney raised his eyebrows at Lisa. “So, twice in a week, we’ve run into each other. That’s a record. Are you following me around, or what?” His laugh boomed out again, big and sickening.

Following him around?
That burst her giddy bubble. She was going to murder him. “Don’t flatter your—”

Adam’s grip around her waist tightened, just enough. “We actually just came down for the weekend. I’m on business, and I missed my girl. So, I flew her down to be with me.”

His girl.
Lisa smiled guilelessly at Rodney, and rested her head on Adam’s shoulder for effect.

In any other situation, coming from anyone else, the smug, entitled possessiveness of what he’d said—
“my girl... I flew her down...”
—might have rubbed Lisa the wrong way. But in this particular situation, with Adam, she could not have imagined a better way for him to put Rodney firmly in his place.

Take that, Rod!

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and leveled as confident an I-don’t-give-a-flying-crap-about-you, you’re-less-than-a-bug-squashed-under-my-heel look as she could manage at Rodney. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

He smiled blandly. “Yoga conference. I opened a new studio. You probably heard about it. It’s getting some pretty great reviews.”

She couldn’t help it—she spoke before her brain could instruct her mouth to stay firmly shut. “I did hear about it, actually. Can I assume this means you’ve got some extra cash to start paying me back what you owe me?”

In the moment of awkward silence that followed, she mentally shrugged her shoulders.
No going back now.
She tilted her head. “No, I guess not. Which makes sense. I’ll bet it’s all tied up in the new business, or at least that’s what you’ll tell me. I’ll probably never see a dime of that money. Am I right, or am I right?”