The Billionaire Matchmaker Test

by Elle James

  “And when you two get married, we’re all going to be in costume?” Sean laughed. “I call dibs on Iron Man.”

  “I’ll come as Hulk,” Moose said.

  “I call Thor,” Coop said.

  Tag shook his head. “I’m not getting married at a comic book convention. And I’m not marrying Twyla.”

  “That certain about your first match?” Gage asked.

  Tag nodded. “Absolutely. She’s not the one for me.”

  “Maybe Bachelorette Number Two will be more to your liking,” Sean said. “You better get with the picture. The rest of us are meeting the goals we set for ourselves. You’re the last holdout.”

  “I’m working on it,” Tag said. “I hope to have good news soon.”

  Coop draped an arm over Tag’s shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it. I’d like to think we’ll have kids around the same time so they can grow up together.”

  “That’s right,” Moose said. “Jane wants a bunch.”

  “So does Fiona,” Gage said.

  “And Ava wants a brother or sister for Mica,” Sean said.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan,” Tag said. And he prayed it worked out. This time next year, he hoped to be married and for them to be well on their way to having those kids everyone was talking about.

  They watched the last half of the games, cheering on the Longhorns and the Aggies. Both teams won, leaving all nine men happy.

  Tag glanced at his watch. They had thirty minutes until the wedding planner would round them up and herd them over to the chapel. “Okay, guys, the fun’s over. It’s time to get serious. We’ve got to get Coop to the church on time.”

  They hurried into their suits, pinned on boutonnieres and combed their hair. Tag went down the line, inspecting all the men.

  They all looked amazing.

  Emma’s brothers left to usher guests into the chapel, leaving the five men of the Billionaires Anonymous Club to await their cue.

  “Coop,” Tag said. “I wish you all the love and happiness you and Emma deserve.” He hugged his friend. “Love you, man.”

  “Thanks,” Coop said. “It’ll be your turn soon.”

  Tag was counting on it. He wished he was Coop and Leslie was Emma, and they were the ones getting married that day.

  After Sean, Moose and Gage hugged Coop, they opened the door to find Marjorie standing there with her hand raised to knock. “Ready?” she asked.

  Coop nodded. “Ready. Lead the way.”

  The men filed out of the carriage house and crossed the lawn to the chapel.

  Coop entered and went to the front of the chapel to wait for his bride.

  The bridesmaids came out of the manor house and lined up next to their respective groomsmen.

  Tag smiled down at Leslie. She was stunning in a deep red gown, her sandy blond hair pulled back on one side, the other swinging free, cupping her chin. She was beautiful, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  She kept her head down, her eyes on the small bouquet of white roses in her hands.

  The preacher did his job, Coop and Emma said their vows and he pronounced them husband and wife.

  “You may kiss your bride,” the minister said.

  Coop yelled, “Yeehaw!”, grabbed Emma and kissed her, then kissed her some more, dipping her low in his arms.

  Everyone in the church clapped.

  Tag’s gaze left the couple and crossed the aisle to Leslie. She was watching Coop and Emma kiss, her eyes filled with tears. Then she turned to him, her gaze colliding with his.

  Tears slid down her cheeks. She wiped at the them and squared her shoulders, lifting her chin.

  Coop and Emma turned to the congregation and smiled.

  Leslie helped the bridesmaids straighten Emma’s train as she swept down the aisle and out of the church where the photographer was waiting to take pictures of the bride and groom.

  As Marjorie had choreographed, each couple met at the middle and left the church together.

  When Tag met Leslie at the center, he held out his arm to her.

  She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. He covered hers with his and led her out into the late afternoon sunshine.

  After another thirty minutes of photographs, they were free to go to the reception at the Ugly Stick Saloon.

  Still, Leslie hadn’t said more than two words to Tag.

  He was getting worried that he’d blown his chance with her. They made the short trip from Hellfire to the Ugly Stick Saloon on the county line in complete and strained silence. Tag wasn’t sure how to cut through the thick air in the cab and get Leslie to talk about what she was feeling.

  Thankfully, they arrived at the Ugly Stick Saloon along with the rest of the wedding party. The celebration was in full swing. They had the saloon for the next three hours, with a band on the stage and the waitresses serving champagne, whiskey and beer as fast as they could.

  The leader of the band announced the bride and groom’s first dance.

  Emma and Coop took the floor in their wedding togs, moving to a waltz. Tag was proud of Coop, who’d taken lessons just to make Emma look good on the dance floor. He did beautifully.

  After their dance, all the other couples joined them.

  Angry with himself for going off the plan the night before, and the fact Leslie wasn’t talking to him, Tag did the only thing he could think of. He took Leslie’s hand and led her out onto the dance floor. When he pulled her into his arms, he whispered in her ear, “You don’t have to talk to dance.”

  Finally, she looked up, met his gaze and slid into his arms.

  Tag held her so close their hips moved as one to the sweet, slow beat of a tender love song. The more they swayed together, the more she relaxed against him, her hands resting on the lapels of his suit, her fingers curling into the fabric.

  Long after the music ended, they continued to sway, lost in a world where it was just him and Leslie.

  The band leader cleared his throat, and everyone laughed.

  Tag looked up to see that they were the only couple remaining on the dance floor, and the bride stood to the side, holding her bouquet.

  “If the couple still dancing could take a break,” the band leader said, “the bride would like to give the single ladies a chance at happiness. That’s right—it’s time to throw the bouquet. Single ladies, please line up on the dance floor.

  Tag’s arms dropped to his sides, and he moved toward the table where the men congregated.

  He didn’t like letting go of Leslie. If he wasn’t mistaken, they’d had a moment on that dance floor, and he wasn’t sure he’d get it back.

  He didn’t have a choice. The other women circled Leslie, blocking her escape. As he watched, they maneuvered her away from him and closer to Emma.

  Tag found himself hoping Leslie would be the lucky one who caught the bouquet. He needed all the help he could get to make her see that getting married again was not only in the cards, it was fate.

  Chapter 10

  Leslie started to follow Tag from the floor, but was headed off by Ava, Fiona and Jane.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Ava said. “You’re the only one of us single ladies who isn’t engaged. You’re going to catch that bouquet if it’s the last thing you do tonight.”

  Leslie’s brow furrowed. “It’s not fair to other single ladies for me to be out there. I’ve been married before.”

  “Are you married now?” Fiona asked.

  Her frown deepened. “No.”

  “Then you’re single.” Ava herded her to stand behind Emma who was pretending to wind up her throwing arm.

  “Ready back there?” Emma asked.

  “Ready,” all the ladies, except Leslie, responded.

  Emma flung the bouquet high into the air and behind her.

  Arms rose into the air.

  Leslie couldn’t help it, she had to raise hers as well. With no clear intention of catching the bouquet, she watched as the bundle of flowers spun through the air as if in slo
w motion. When it hit its zenith, the bouquet tumbled downward, aiming toward someone else’s arms, not hers. Jane, the tallest, smacked it to her left. Fiona batted at it like a volleyball and Ava leaped into the air, slam-dunking it into Leslie’s outreached hands.

  Leslie gasped as the flowers bounced off her fingers and landed against her chest. She couldn’t believe she’d caught them. Nor could she believe the other ladies had gotten together to make certain she was the one who ended up with the pretty white roses.

  A round of applause roared through the saloon.

  Emma turned and smiled. “I can’t think of a more perfect person to catch my bouquet,” she said. “If it weren’t for you and BODS, I might never have met Coop.”

  “And I wouldn’t have met Gage,” Fiona said.

  “And I wouldn’t have met Sean,” Ava said.

  “And I wouldn’t have fallen in love with Moose,” Jane said. “Leslie is responsible for the happiness of so many of us here tonight.”

  “That’s right,” Emma said, hurrying over to hug her. “You deserve to be as happy.”

  Leslie’s eyes filled. “Thank you. All of you,” she said. “It makes me very happy to see my clients and friends find love.”

  “And now, it’s your turn to find love,” Ava said. Her gaze shot to Tag, sitting on the sidelines with the other men. “And I think you have.”

  Fiona, Jane and Emma all turned to stare in the direction Ava was looking.

  “So, will there be wedding bells between you and Tag?” Emma asked.

  Leslie’s face heated, fiery hot. “Oh, no. We’re just friends,” she said, out of habit, when her entire being wanted to be more than friends with her best friend.

  “Ha. You’ve stepped over that line, sweetheart,” Ava said.

  Fiona nodded. “She’s right, honey. You are so far past friend, if dancing without music is any indication.”

  “It is,” Ava said.

  Leslie shook her head. “We’re very good friends.”

  Jane gave her a sly glance. “Friends with benefits?”

  Her cheeks burning now, Leslie shook her head. “No, our relationship is nothing like that.”

  Emma snorted. “That’s a shame. Maybe you should shake it up a bit. He looks willing.”

  “Yes, he does,” Fiona said, her gaze on Tag.

  “Stop,” Leslie sputtered. “He’s going to know you’re talking about him.” She turned her back to him, her face on fire.

  “We hope so. Then maybe he’ll get cracking and make a move on you.”

  “If he hasn’t already.” Ave’s eyes narrowed. “Has he?”

  Leslie shook her head. “No, of course not. He’s my friend.”

  “What part of friends with benefits do you not understand?” Emma asked.

  “I tell you, we’re not like that.” Leslie drew in a deep breath. “Look, just let me get to my happy place on my own. I don’t need your help to find a man, and Tag is not an appropriate option.”

  “The hell he isn’t,” Emma said. “He’s kind, good-looking and loaded. What more could you ask for?”

  Leslie turned enough to study Tag out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her, his brows meeting above his nose.

  Tag was perfect. Like Emma said, he was kind, oh so handsome, and always had her back. Up until this past week, he’d been the one she’d shared all her ups and downs with. Now that she was considering him as someone other than just a friend, the dynamic of their relationship had changed. And she wasn’t sure she was happy about that. She valued order in her existence, and everything about being with Tag was messy.

  Emma hugged her. “Don’t think yourself out of anything, Leslie. You deserve a little happiness of your own.” She glanced up at Coop, who stood beside Marjorie, waving at her. “Guess I’d better get going. My husband is getting restless.” She grinned. “Coop’s my husband. That sounds so strange, and yet, makes me happy.” She hurried toward her groom, and they got ready to make their escape.

  The guests lined up outside the saloon with bags of bird seed.

  When Emma and Coop came out, a loud cheer went up and bird seed flew at the happy couple as they ran for Coop’s pickup.

  Some of the men had trashed it good with shaving cream, tin cans and streamers. On the back windshield were the words, JUST HITCHED.

  Leslie couldn’t be happier for Emma and Coop. And she was thrilled that BODS had brought them together.

  Then why hadn’t BODS worked for her? She and Tag had entered their data at the same time. They would have known immediately that they were a match.

  BODS hadn’t chosen them for each other.

  “Ready to go home?” Tag said into her ear.

  Leslie jumped and pressed a hand to her chest. Her pulse pounded so hard, she was certain he could hear it.

  “I’m sorry if I startled you,” Tag said. “You were so deep in thought, I didn’t think you’d hear me if I whispered.”

  “No, it’s okay,” she said. “And yes, I’m ready to go home.”

  He guided her through the throng of people standing around laughing and smiling at Emma and Coop as they drove out of the parking lot.

  When they reached the truck, he opened the door for her and helped her up into the seat, tucking the hem of her gown around her to keep it from getting caught in the door. Once she was settled and buckled in, he rounded the pickup, giving Leslie a few precious moments to pull herself together.

  Tag slid behind the wheel, started the engine and eased through the crowded parking lot to the highway.

  Leslie stared at the bouquet of flowers in her lap for the duration of the drive back to Austin. She didn’t know what to say or do. She wondered if Tag would kiss her when he dropped her off. If he did, how should she react? Shy and cautious? Sexy and encouraging? Or just plain panicked?

  She was so wound up by the possibilities, she was on edge and ready to jump out of the truck when it pulled to a stop in front of her house. Her first instinct was to get out before Tag could come around to let her out. Her second instinct was to wait and let Tag help her down. At least then, he’d touch her, and possibly, let her slide down his body as he’d done before.

  Heat coiled at her center.

  When he opened her door, she waited for him to grip her around her waist and help her from her seat to the ground.

  Instead, he offered her a hand.

  What the hell?

  She wanted the full body contact, not this impersonal and formal assist. Leslie considered faking a fall so that he had to catch her and hold her close. She chickened out at the last minute, afraid he’d miss, and she’d fall flat on her face on the pavement.

  Gathering the hem of her dress in one hand, she took the outstretched hand and let him help her to the ground. So much for getting to press her body up against his. She’d thought they’d had something special going on the dance floor at the Ugly Stick Saloon. What had happened to cool his heels since then? Or had he come to his senses and realized he wasn’t all that into her?

  For a moment Leslie closed her eyes, desperate for answers, knowing she wouldn’t get any from him. She wouldn’t ask those questions, because she was too afraid she wouldn’t like the response.

  Still carrying the bouquet, she trudged up the front porch and stood in front of her door, fumbling with the key.

  A big, warm hand settled on her arm and another reached for the keys. “Let me,” he said.

  She stepped to the side, allowing him access to the lock.

  While he unlocked the door, she inhaled his scent. He smelled like expensive aftershave. His clean-shaven face of that morning now sported a heavy five o’clock shadow. Leslie wanted to know what the little bit of beard would feel like rubbing across her skin.

  Tag pushed open the door and handed her the key, his fingers touching hers, causing a spark of electricity to fire through her system, rendering her speechless. This was it…the moment when he would kiss her, and she’d kiss him back.

  He cupped
her cheeks between his palms and bent his head.

  Leslie tipped her chin upward and closed her eyes, ready to receive his sweet kiss.

  He brushed her forehead with his lips.

  Leslie frowned, opened her eyes and stared into his. “That’s it?”

  His brow wrinkled. “Is what it?”

  She shook her head, clasped his face in her hands and pulled him down for a full-contact, no-holds-barred kiss. When he opened his lips, her tongue swept past his teeth, colliding with his in a sensuous dance of desire and discovery.

  Her fingers laced into the thickness of his hair, drawing him closer still. She pressed her breasts to his chest. As much as she loved the way his suit felt against her skin, she wished they were naked.

  His hand slid down her back and cupped her ass, pressing her tightly against his growing arousal. He wasn’t so immune to her after all.

  He lifted her, carried her across the threshold and kicked the door closed behind them. Slowly, he lowered her feet until they touched the ground, her dress riding up enough she could wrap her calf around his.

  Oh, she wanted him. After four years of celibacy, she was hot and ready for more than a kiss. Leslie broke away, took his hand and started for her bedroom.

  Tag took two steps and stopped, bringing her to an abrupt halt. “I can’t,” he said.

  “What do you mean, you can’t?” she asked, her frustration making her voice tight.

  He shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

  She frowned. “Can’t because you have a medical condition, or won’t because you changed your mind?”

  “I can’t because I respect you too much. This isn’t what I wanted to happen tonight.”

  Leslie shoved a hand through her hair and stood alone on that floor, her heart crumbling into a thousand little pieces. “What you mean is, you don’t want to.”

  “Not like this.” He reached for her hands.

  Leslie hid them behind her back and sighed heavily. “Just go.”

  “Leslie—”

  “Please,” she begged, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m tired to the bone, and I just want to sleep.”

  He started toward her and stopped, his hands falling to his sides. “I care about you, Leslie. More than you’ll ever know. And for that reason, I’ll do as you ask and go.” Tag performed an abrupt about-face and left her house, closing the door softly behind him.