The Matchmaker's Replacement

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Lex—”

  “If I’m teaching you Organic Chem, at least say Professor Lex.”

  “Listen very closely, Lex.” I went over and jerked my book out of his hands. “I didn’t need your help last year when I almost failed biology, and I sure as hell don’t need your help now. Let’s just get this training done so I can go home and suffer in silence, alright?”

  “Fine.” He dropped my book against the table and then, without warning, grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me against the counter that bordered the kitchen. My butt hit the cupboard. “Up until now we’ve been helping women find their perfect matches. Basically acting like a wingman so that the idiots of this world see the girl who’s been standing in front of them all along.”

  Why was he standing so close? Did we have to be touching? I told my body not to respond to his proximity, but Lex was magnetic, even if every part of him was evil. My brain was having trouble functioning while his large palms were pressed into the tops of my shoulders.

  “Okay.” I swallowed. “And now that you’re allowing guys to become clients of Wingmen Inc., I basically do the same thing. Give them confidence, help them capture the one girl who’s always seen them as the friend—or worse, who they’ve been invisible to.”

  “What’s that like, I wonder?” Lex still didn’t release me. “Being invisible . . . Maybe next time a dude ignores you, take notes.”

  And another insult.

  “Lex.” I huffed out a breath. “Just get on with it.”

  “Right.” His eyes momentarily locked on mine before he rubbed the bridge of his nose where his glasses were perched. It was not sexy. It wasn’t. Really. That. Sexy. “So whenever we take on a new client, we give them a list of questions, meet them in a public place, and then use the power of human emotions like jealousy and curiosity to get the other person interested. That’s where you come in. If another girl sees our client as desirable, he becomes desirable.”

  “That easy?”

  “Sort of.” Lex leaned forward. “But you can’t suck.”

  “Suck?”

  “At anything.” His lips hovered near my mouth. He was starting to freak me out. I wanted to run away, but I was pinned.

  “Lex, if you kiss me I will bite your tongue off. I swear.”

  “If I was actually kissing you”—Lex released one of my shoulders and placed a finger against my mouth—“you’d know it. This, my frumpy friend, is training.”

  His lips descended.

  They pressed against mine, then pulled back. “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Gabs, you’re going to need to open your mouth a bit more. Guys are stupid. They always assume that more tongue means better kissing, when the opposite is true, but you still need to have your lips parted, not locked down like Fort Knox.”

  “What’s happening?” I tried to push away from him.

  Lex rolled his eyes. “Gabs, believe me, this is all business. You can even keep your hand on my junk the whole time.”

  “What!” I roared.

  “So you know without a doubt that nothing about you turns me on.” He grinned menacingly. “Seriously, I don’t mind.”

  “I do!”

  “Hey!” He chuckled. “I was just trying to help.”

  “Grabbing your penis is not the answer, Lex!”

  “Weird, because it so often is.”

  “I hate today.”

  “Is it the rain?” He frowned.

  “It’s not—”

  “It is.”

  “Stop that!” I shoved him. “Hurry up and grade my kissing skills so I can go home and study.”

  “Kissing, hand holding, hugging, cuddling, laughing, winking—just a few things you need to master.” He was firing off so many horrible, body-numbing words.

  “Just hurry up,” I grumbled in a defeated voice as I tried to block out the fact that he was a good-looking ass who offended me with every single breath he took.

  “Ah . . .” Lex held up his hand. “One never hurries a kiss.”

  “What about a passionate kiss?”

  “A passionate kiss isn’t hurried, it’s frenzied. Damn, don’t you know anything?”

  Heat swamped my cheeks.

  “How many guys have you kissed, Gabs?”

  “Plenty!” Five. I’d kissed five.

  “You blush down your neck when you lie.” Lex cupped my chin and then brought his lips down against mine again. “Part.”

  Sighing against his mouth, I relaxed my lips while his slid across.

  He pulled back, wearing a frown of irritation. “A bit more, Gabs. Guys want access.”

  I kept my eyes open.

  So did he.

  I didn’t want him assuming I was into it, which was probably his exact line of thinking. Only keeping my eyes open was an entirely raw experience, watching him watch me while I felt him.

  I shivered.

  “Cold?” That stupid smirk was back.

  “Frigid.” I glared, putting myself down before he had a chance to.

  “You read my mind.” He nodded seriously. “Now stop being a bitch, and let me teach you how to kiss.”

  “I know how to kiss!” I don’t know what came over me—maybe it was the need to prove myself, or possibly it was just stress over the entire situation. Needing to stay in school and hating that he was the answer, I wrapped my arms around his neck and jumped, my hips colliding with his as I mauled his mouth with as much passion as I could conjure up, this time closing my eyes and putting everything I had into it.

  With a growl, Lex pushed me back against the countertop. As my butt collided with the edge, his tongue plunged into my mouth and his hands dug into my hair, pulling it free from its ponytail while he changed positions, his lips demanding a punishing kiss from a different angle as he gave my hair a harder tug.

  I grasped at his T-shirt, pulling him closer and nearly falling backward into the sink.

  And then, just when I was in danger of losing myself to the kiss that would probably be the best kiss of my life, I bit down on his bottom lip.

  That move didn’t work out the way I’d planned, not at all. In my head it was smart. I’d piss him off, get him to pull back and leave me alone.

  It did nothing of the sort.

  Nothing of the sort at all.

  With a hiss he pulled back, fire blazing in his eyes. For a split second that seemed to go on for an eternity, he hovered and I waited, both of us on the edge of something. He wet his lips, I mimicked the movement, and then, like a snake, he struck. His mouth fused to mine in a ferocious kiss, one that bruised my mouth while imprinting its essence on my soul.

  The hard length of his arousal pressed against me, and that was when I knew I needed to either kick him or break free before he was in danger of becoming more than a hated enemy.

  I shoved him as hard as I could.

  He stumbled back, chest heaving. “Why the hell did you bite me?”

  “You said you wouldn’t get turned-on!” I fired back, pointing at the front of his sweatpants.

  He smirked. “That was before you bit me. All bets are off when teeth are involved, Sunshine.”

  “Stop calling me that.” I jumped off the counter and hurried over to my purse. “So, we done? Do I pass?”

  Lex moved to stand behind me, and I could feel his body heat as he leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “You were right. You can kiss.”

  My eyes widened as I turned to face him. “Was that a compliment?”

  “Nope.” He drew back. “It was the truth. Truths don’t count as compliments.” He angled his head and studied me. “You really don’t know anything about guys, do you?”

  I closed my
eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I should buy stock in aspirin, that’s how often I get headaches after hanging out with you.”

  He shrugged, a look of utter unconcern on his face.

  “I’m leaving. We can keep training tomorrow, all day if you want. I only have one lab in the morning, but I really need to get this homework done before then. Otherwise, I’ll be stressed about it.”

  “Great.” Lex grabbed his cell and smirked down at it.

  “So tomorrow?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer, just kept texting on his phone.

  “Lex. The skank can wait. Is tomorrow okay?”

  “Yup.” He sighed. “Also, I’m sending you the client list via e-mail. You’ll need to have it memorized. We’ll get blood work done tomorrow and make sure we get you on the pill . . .”

  “WHAT?” I roared.

  “Hah.” He tossed his phone onto the counter. “Kidding, Gabs. Geez, do you really think I’d whore you out?”

  “Yes!”

  “Don’t worry, I’d only do it if we got a really good offer.”

  “Good-bye, Lex.”

  “Later, Sunshine.”

  Chapter Three

  Lex

  There was no text.

  Just my locked screen and an imaginary message I’d been pretending to write so Gabs would get the hell out of my house.

  My plan to make her uncomfortable, to get her to back out and run away screaming, had completely backfired and gone up in lust-filled flames.

  I had expected her to bail, panic, yell. Hell, I’d half expected to need the cops to come to my rescue. Instead, she’d kissed me back.

  Damn it.

  Would it take another four years for my lips to forget what it felt like to be locked with hers?

  The minute my door slammed, I exhaled a sigh of relief. The kiss unnerved me, in a way that had my black heart mourning the loss of her sultry lips. But that’s where it stopped. Believe me, no part of me hoped that Gabs was going to be the one girl to hold my attention long enough for me to utter the word “commitment” while we skipped through the park with a damn picnic basket.

  I just wasn’t used to girls who kissed like that.

  With passion.

  I was never the kisser, I was the kissee, meaning I’d been on the receiving end of a fair share of kisses, and none of them had ever affected me with such blinding lust that the only logical thought in my overly complicated brain was sex, sex, and more sex.

  Don’t get me wrong. I thought about sex all the time, but it was always muddied by formulas, code, ideas, and laundry lists.

  Hell, I’m not even ashamed to say that the last girl I slept with helped me damn near solve world hunger. I’d been so effing bored that at one point I’m pretty sure I fell asleep.

  And even then she didn’t kick me out of bed.

  Because she was as selfish as I was. There were always a few of them in the bunch, women who used me just as much as, if not more than, I used them.

  Sex was just another formula I excelled at. And orgasm? A simple mathematical equation that I’d mastered, and when a good-looking guy actually knows where to lick, when to pause, how to suck—well, word spreads fast.

  It really makes you wonder what all the other dudes are doing in bed if so many women are that unsatisfied.

  “Hey.” Ian walked into the house we shared, and the door clicked shut behind him. “Was Gabs here?”

  Oh, she was here alright. I tilted my head as I examined the table. Yeah, it could probably handle the weight of both of us. She’d stab me with her pencil if she knew the direction of my thoughts.

  But she’d bitten me.

  It was hot.

  Even though it stung like the fires of hell. “Yeah, she was here, we kissed.” I reached for my water bottle and brought it to my lips just as what I’d said registered across Ian’s face.

  “I’m sorry, what?” He gripped the edge of the counter with his fingertips. “You kissed?”

  “Training.” It was a small lie, a white lie, but whatever. I reached into the folder on the table and slid over the top sheet with all of the new applicants for Wingmen Inc. services. “I don’t have enough time to deal with all this shit, and I know you don’t want to work with the clients as much because of Blake.” I paused for a minute, then pulled off my glasses. “Ian, we’re expanding way too fast, and computer software doesn’t write itself.” Honestly, it was a real pain in my ass that Ian had decided to settle down. He used to juggle three clients in one week, all single females who needed a happily ever after. His success rate was so high it was ridiculous. Whereas I simply got the job done and moved on, he almost always had to have a come-to-Jesus moment where he explained to the girls that theirs was a strictly professional relationship. A few had cried.

  None of my clients felt that way about me.

  Probably because I wasn’t as empathetic as Ian. When I printed out a client’s bio and started working with her, it was all business. Get the job done, get out.

  Ian glanced over the report and whistled. “Yeah, I think we grossly underestimated how many guys want to be in a relationship.”

  “I thought it was a fluke at first,” I admitted. “Who actually wants to stay committed to one person? At our age?”

  Ian glared.

  “You don’t count in this scenario, since you successfully boned half the campus before your sophomore year. Most of the names on the list are dudes who have never even had a serious girlfriend, let alone more than two sexual partners.”

  The more I thought about it, the more irritated I became. We started this business thinking it would be mildly successful, not something on its way to becoming Seattle’s premiere dating service. Though we only offered Wingmen assistance to our fellow UW students, the dating app was basically like Tinder—only safer and more badass, with a rating and warning system—and we allowed anyone to download it, as long as they were paying customers. We basically did a background check for every member and required that they use real names with real birthdays and, yes, Social Security numbers—you’re welcome, world! Our app was the opposite of private. Not only did it alert you if you were in the same area as people on your favorites list, but immediately stats would pop up about the individuals—from their jobs to their ages, hobbies, and what they had done the previous weekend. It seemed that in a world full of people who wanted privacy, the last thing they wanted was privacy when it came to dating.

  Women loved it because they were able to actually know the person behind the picture, and we soon discovered that most guys who used the app wanted to settle down and loved the fact that they knew within one minute what the girl’s job was and whether she would go to Mass the following day.

  “Thanks”—Ian rolled his eyes—“for that glowing compliment.” He pulled out a chair and sat. “Do you really think Gabs is the best person to be handling these guys? She hasn’t exactly had a lot of boyfriends.”

  “Exactly.” I exhaled, relieved. “Finally you see things my way. I’ll go ahead and call her, tell her we don’t need her anymore—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Ian stood. “She needs this job. It’s the only one that’s going to pay her enough for her to be able to afford tuition. You’re just going to have to do a hell of a job making sure she’s ready.” He plopped the playbook we’d created onto the table and pointed.

  The hell!

  “I have one week,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “And today we kissed. Do you even realize how long it takes to turn someone into a relationship guru? Add in the fact that she hates me, and, well . . . I imagine one of us is going to die this week. My money’s on her poisoning my coffee.”

  Ian still didn’t look convinced that hiring Gabs was a
bad idea.

  “I could die.”

  Too far?

  “Stop being dramatic.” Ian waved me off. “And the hate is mutual. At least she doesn’t have some sort of pathetic crush on you . . . right?” His eyes zeroed in on me as if I was getting cross-examined.

  “Right,” I repeated, feeling guilty all over again for freshman year. I stood and stretched my hands over my head. We were in dire need of a subject change. The last thing I needed was him breathing down my neck about something I didn’t even do! “Is Blake coming over?”

  “She has volleyball practice and then she’s coming over to watch Game of Thrones. You in?”

  “Nah.” I was in a weird mood after that kiss, which meant my computer and I needed to spend some serious time together. I guessed the only other option would be to drive Gabi so insane she would quit on her own before she had a nervous breakdown. “I’m going to go work.”

  Ian’s shocked expression wasn’t helpful. “And by work do you mean you’re going to trade your glasses in for your cape and tell some poor woman in downtown Seattle that you can only save the world if she sleeps with you?”

  “One time.” I rolled my eyes. “On Halloween.”

  “Still counts. She believed you.”

  I smirked. “That costume was legit. Of course she believed me.”

  “You wore that spandex, not the other way around. Well done.” Ian shook his head and walked off. “Try to keep those sticky fingers from hacking the government’s database. I don’t want the FBI making another visit.”

  “One time!” I shouted after him.

  “Weird, that seems to be your MO!” he called back as he flashed me the bird, then disappeared into the living room.