A Perfectly Imperfect Match (Matchmaking Mamas)

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Don’t worry about it,” he reassured her. His parents had instilled in him the edict of never throwing away money needlessly on things he could do for himself. That included taking dress shirts to a local cleaners rather than making use of a washing machine. “I’ll just throw it into the wash the way I always do.”

  She frowned, taking a closer look at the stains. “I don’t think that’s advisable,” she cautioned. “The grease might spread to your other clothes and if the water happens to be hot, that stain is going to set forever.” When he looked at her quizzically, she told him, “Trust me, I speak from experience. Please, let me take care of it for you.”

  She looked as if she wasn’t going to be satisfied until he agreed. Inclining his head, he decided that saying yes to her was a lot easier than continuing this debate.

  “All right, you win,” he conceded.

  “So you’ll let me get your shirt cleaned for you?” she asked, carefully watching his expression. Instincts had taught her when she was just being humored and put off.

  “Absolutely,” he told her. She thought she saw the corners of his mouth curving just the slightest bit. She was right. He was humoring her.

  “When?” she pressed.

  Jared looked at her, a little surprised that she hadn’t backed off since he appeared to be agreeing with her. Then, grinning, he decided to turn the tables and surprise her.

  He tugged the ends of his shirt out of his waistband and started to swiftly work the buttons loose. “Well, right now if you want...” Jared murmured innocently.

  Before her stunned eyes, he went down the row of buttons and from all appearances, any second now, he was literally going to give her the shirt off his back.

  The next moment, surprise was trumped by appreciation as she caught more than a quick glimpse of a physique that brought the word sculpted to mind in glowing capital letters. This potential new client, who had so nobly come to her rescue, had very clearly defined pectorals and looked as if he spent every waking spare moment in the gym.

  Elizabeth could feel all the moisture evaporate from her mouth even as she searched for something intelligent to say—or at least not stutter like some dazed teenager when she spoke.

  She finally found her tongue, which felt as if it had been stuck to the roof of her mouth. “I didn’t mean that you had to give me your shirt this very second.”

  “Oh, sorry,” he apologized impishly. “I misunderstood.”

  He hadn’t.

  What he’d decided to do was see just how far Elizabeth was going to push this need she seemed to have for instant payback. Very slowly, he began to rebutton his shirt.

  There was humor in his eyes as he said, “Then it’s all right with you if I give the shirt to you, say, the next time we get together?”

  “Absolutely,” she answered with more than a little enthusiasm and relief.

  Her relief was short-lived as something else suddenly dawned on her. Jared was buttoning up his shirt and covering up again, so why did she still feel as if she was physically standing on top of a burning bush? It certainly hadn’t been this hot in the parking lot a few minutes ago. Just where had this blast of heat come from?

  Blowing out a breath, she found her voice, although she had to admit that it sounded a touch shaky to her ear. Especially when she went on to say more than just a single word.

  “I know of another way to repay you.”

  He looked at her, one eyebrow raised sardonically as a scenario he knew she’d had no intention of acting on suggested itself to him.

  “Oh?” he asked, doing his best to make the word sound a great deal more innocent than his thoughts currently were at this moment.

  Judging by the hue that had suddenly begun to creep up her cheeks, he realized that he wasn’t being altogether successful in keeping a lid on it. Apparently, he had somehow managed to at least partially telegraph his less-than-chaste vision to her.

  “Dinner,” she all but choked out. “If you postponed your meeting until another day, I was going to suggest dinner.” It was all that she could do to keep from stumbling over the simple words.

  Dinner definitely had some appeal, he thought. Actually, the idea of an intimate setting with the woman was what actually held the most appeal for him.

  Intrigued, Jared asked, “You mean a home-cooked meal?”

  That quickly snapped her out of the very warm place she’d found herself slipping into.

  Elizabeth laughed as she shook her head. “Oh God, no. I want to thank you, not kill you or send you to the intensive care unit of the nearest hospital. What kind of way would that be to pay you back and say thank you?” she wanted to know.

  Her laugh melded with his as he tucked the edge of his shirt back underneath his waistband. “Your cooking can’t be all that bad.”

  Spoken like a man who’d never sampled her cooking efforts, she mused. Elizabeth knew what she could do and knew her limitations as well. Cooking definitely came under the heading of the latter.

  “I wouldn’t take any bets if I were you,” she advised. “Not unless you really like losing. Even my father, who thinks the sun rises and sets around me, will tell you that if you value your life, don’t eat anything I’ve had a hand in preparing.”

  “He thinks the sun rises and sets around you, huh?” Jared repeated, intrigued as well as amused. “Let me guess, you’re the only girl in the family.”

  “I’m impressed. You got it on the first try. Yes, I’m the only girl.”

  He tightened the parameters a little more and asked, “Only child?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. I have two younger brothers. So much for your winning streak. You’re slipping.”

  He took her taunting in stride. “Just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea and feel as if you were in the presence of a clairvoyant.”

  Her amusement reached her eyes, managing to capture him the moment he noticed it. “Is that what you think you are, a clairvoyant?”

  He could tell by the way she asked that she didn’t believe in people who claimed to see into the future.

  That made two of them. But he decided to tease her a little longer. “Let’s just say I have exceptionally good instincts when it comes to making decent calculated guesses about people. So, since your father dotes on you, does your mother dote on your brothers, or does one of them feel as if he’s getting shortchanged?”

  The moment he asked about her mother, she could feel the wave of sadness sweep over her. Wasn’t that ever going to stop?

  “I think we all got kind of shortchanged, actually.” When the quizzical look on his face deepened, she offered him a sliver of the story she rarely shared with anyone.

  “My mother died when I was five. My brothers were still babies when she left our lives.” There was an incredible amount of sadness in her voice.

  Jared felt instantly guilty for having brought up something that obviously hurt her so much. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to dredge up any painful memories for you.”

  “You didn’t,” she assured him, and she was being truthful. “Any memories I have of her are cherished, not buried because it hurts too much to remember her. Memories—and her violin—are all I have of her,” she explained.

  “Now, about that dinner,” Elizabeth began, deftly switching topics. She was rather convinced that Jared was pretty vulnerable to a blitzkrieg right now, seeing as how he obviously thought he’d upset her with his unintentional comment. “I haven’t had anything to eat since before lunch, and because I’ve imposed on you to help me, I know for a fact that you haven’t had dinner yet. So why don’t I show you my gratitude by buying you dinner at the restaurant of your choice? The sky’s the limit,” she told him. “As long as the sky’s relatively low,” she qualified with a grin that he found infinitely appealing.

  “We could pick up a package of hot dogs and hold them over a fire,” he suggested, doing his best to keep a straight face. As far as he was concerned, she didn’t owe him anything. He liked
being helpful.

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I told you, I can’t cook,” she pointed out.

  “That’s not cooking, that’s holding a stick over a fire and occasionally moving your wrist back and forth,” he protested.

  She greeted his explanation with, “Potato, po-tot-to. That’s still considered cooking in some circles—and grilling in others.” She had a feeling that Jared thought she was kidding about her culinary abilities—or inabilities as the case was. She wasn’t. “For everyone’s well-being all around, I’d really rather have a professional take care of preparing the meal.”

  Jared laughed, surrendering. “Okay, you win. No cooking. All right, why don’t you pick the restaurant,” he told her.

  That wasn’t good enough. “I’m thanking you, it’s only fair that you pick,” she told him, remaining firm.

  She came on soft and sweet, but he was beginning to wonder if anyone ever won an argument with this woman. “All right,” he surrendered, “How about Giuseppe’s?”

  She was familiar with the establishment. “Pizza?” she asked.

  The restaurant he’d picked was known for its Italian cuisine in general, but its real specialty was pizza. All sorts of pizza. Thick or thin or stuffed, it offered an almost endless variety of toppings.

  Jared nodded. “I love pizza,” he told her earnestly.

  She was still rather skeptical about his choice—she knew the restaurant wasn’t expensive and had a hunch that was what was really responsible for his choice. He didn’t want her spending a lot of money. His gallantry reminded her of something that her father would have done.

  “Really?” she asked, deliberately scrutinizing his expression.

  “Really,” he told her, never wavering. For good measure, he crossed his heart.

  Elizabeth gave in. Maybe he was on the level. “Okay. Giuseppe’s it is,” she agreed. “I’ll meet you there,” she told him.

  “Fair enough.” He got into his vehicle and leaned out to say something further.

  But it was too late. She was already starting up her car.

  They did start out at the same time, since their vehicles were parked next to each other. But five minutes into the journey, after stopping at a light that was about to turn red in less than the next heartbeat, Jared discovered that he’d lost her.

  Elizabeth hadn’t stopped. Instead, she’d flown through the light and actually made it to the other side of the intersection before the light finished turning red.

  Close to half an hour later, Jared finally pulled up into the popular eatery’s parking lot. The traffic there had been lighter than normal, but it had still come under the heading of “traffic,” which, in California-speak, meant bumper-to-bumper for at least part of the distance.

  Halfway to the restaurant, he’d opted to take an overland route rather than continue traveling on the freeway, which was misnamed if anything ever had been, he thought darkly.

  Parking his vehicle at the edge of the crowded lot, Jared made his way toward the short, squat building, heading for the restaurant’s entrance. He fully expected to have to stand around in front of the double doors, waiting for Elizabeth to arrive. Though he’d kept a vigilant eye out for her, he hadn’t seen any sign of the woman’s vintage vehicle as he drove to the restaurant.

  He was spared the wait...because Elizabeth was already there.

  And, from her cool and calm appearance, she’d been standing there by the entrance awhile now.

  It took him a bit of effort to keep the stunned expression off his face.

  She smiled warmly at him when she saw him approaching the front door. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he echoed. “You didn’t tell me that your car was refitted with wings and doubled as a hovercraft.”

  She caught the slightly sarcastic tone. Had she tread on his male ego by unintentionally beating him in a time-honored male sport, auto racing?

  “It wasn’t and doesn’t.” She pulled the door open and was a little taken aback when she saw his arm go out just above her head and take possession of the door away from her. She could almost see his biceps flexing as he effortlessly held the heavy, double-wide door open for her.

  “I have what my family likes to refer to as a lead foot,” she explained, then confessed, “It’s not something I’m overly proud of. I really do try to rein it in, but there’s something about making a light just before it turns red and squeaking through tight places that I find to be really irresistible—no matter how hard I try to ignore it, or at least not give in to the temptation. Just between you and me, I really have trouble resisting the allure of going fast.”

  “Remind me never to have you drive me anywhere,” he quipped.

  “Unless it’s an emergency,” she pointed out. “Then you might be happy I can make twists and turns most people turn pale just thinking about.”

  He took her at her word about the pale part. “Just how many traffic tickets have you amassed?” he asked, curious.

  “None, actually.” She could see he was going to need convincing. “I don’t run red lights and I don’t go above posted speed limits.”

  “The key word here being posted,” he guessed wryly.

  When she merely smiled at him in response to his comment, her eyes dancing, he had his answer. Why he found her to be so appealing when she made her admission, he wasn’t really able to say. He was accustomed to women who worried about the wind messing with their hair, or not being the sole object of interest when they entered a room.

  Elizabeth, apparently, had no concerns about turning heads, or literally having every hair in place. She appeared to be far too full of life to be overly worried about things like that.

  He supposed that was her Bohemian spirit, coming to the forefront. He found he rather liked it.

  Liked it? he silently mocked himself. Hell, he found it downright captivating.

  “Two?” the hostess asked, coming up to greet them the moment they stepped into the restaurant.

  “Two,” he confirmed.

  He caught himself thinking that there was something oddly comfortable about being part of a duo, even if only for the length of time that it took to eat a meal. Most of the time, when he went out to eat and he wasn’t using that time to court a company client, he was alone. For the most part, his meals were sporadic, spur-of-the-moment decisions and thus, perforce, very solitary affairs.

  The idea of sharing a meal with someone without having to pitch ideas and be ever vigilant and on his toes was exceedingly appealing to him.

  Jared caught himself smiling as he followed the hostess and Elizabeth into the heart of the restaurant. He was going to enjoy this, he promised himself.

  He had a hunch that he was going to enjoy sitting opposite Elizabeth as he ate even more.

  Chapter Six

  “Have you been doing this long?” he asked Elizabeth once the hostess had given them their menus and quietly retreated from their table.

  The question had caught her completely off guard. For a second, she wasn’t sure what he was referring to. “You mean eating? For as long as I can remember.”

  Jared laughed. He’d found that a sense of humor was an indispensable tool when it came to being able not just to survive, but to survive well. He liked hers. If he were ever in the market for a wife—which of course he wasn’t—a sense of humor would have been his number one priority.

  Having legs that didn’t quit and a face that daydreams were made of didn’t exactly detract from the total picture, either.

  But he wasn’t looking for a mate, nor would he ever be. He didn’t like failing, and most marriages today never saw the light of their fifth anniversary, much less their thirty-fifth. His parents had a marriage that was damn near close to perfect. If he couldn’t have that—and odds in today’s world were pretty great that he couldn’t—he didn’t want any marriage at all.

  “That part I just assumed,” he told Elizabeth. “I meant playing. As in how long have you been playing the violin?”

 
“Almost as long as I’ve been eating,” Elizabeth answered.

  She saw the slight dubious look that came into Jared’s eyes. She didn’t want him thinking that she was telling him she’d been a child prodigy, because she wasn’t. She’d just been a little girl who was trying to make contact with a mother who was gone.

  “I feel like it’s in my blood,” she explained. “My parents met at a concert during college. She was playing, he was listening.” Those were her mother’s exact words, she recalled fondly. “Dad told me that the first time he heard her play, he felt as if he were in the presence of an angel.”

  Jared saw a sad expression play across her face as she went on talking.

  “When my mother died, he told me that God wanted to have nothing but beautiful music around Him, so He took her to heaven.” She looked at Jared and wondered if he thought she was being rather simple-minded. “When you’re five, you believe everything your father tells you.” A rueful smile curved her lips. “I was really angry at God for about a year.”

  “At that age, I would have been, too,” Jared agreed gently.

  He was humoring her, she thought, but it was still rather nice of him. She flashed him a quick, grateful smile.

  “Anyway, holding her violin made me feel closer to her, as if a part of her were still there somehow, so I asked my father if I could have lessons. He made the arrangements, even got me the same instructor who initially taught my mother,” she confided. “The woman couldn’t get over how much I looked like my mother. By the end of the year, Ms. Jablonsky said I played the violin just like my mother, too.

  “I don’t think I ever received a better compliment—unless it was seeing the tears in my dad’s eyes when I played in my very first recital. He said it was like being at that concert when he met my mother all over again. He told me that my mother would have been proud of me.”

  Elizabeth realized that, just for a moment, she’d let her guard down and gotten misty. Clearing her throat, she pushed back the feelings that were welling up inside her, and blinked her eyes, determined to keep her tears from falling.