“Yeah,” he said, coming up for air. “If you only look at the surface.”
She flinched as if he’d struck her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How can you possibly match two people together based on an application? It doesn’t make any sense. Sure, you know what kind of music the other person likes, or how many kids they want to have, but you can’t possibly expect to really know the people you’re setting up from a piece of paper.”
She stared, her brown eyes going wide. “Apparently I have my methods. Not a single one of my couples has broken up.”
“Yet.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t think Mitch and Carrie will make it down the aisle.”
She fumed, nostrils flaring, lips tightening. “What on earth would make you say something like that?”
“Cynicism, I suppose.”
“No doubt stemming from your job.” She nodded as if she understood. “At first I thought you might’ve been someone who cherished marriage and monogamy, after seeing so many couples split, but I was way off the mark. You’re one of those people who think everyone is destined for divorce.”
“See, already you’ve pegged me wrong,” he whispered, closing the distance between them. “I may not think monogamy is for everyone, but I don’t have a problem with it, if that’s what floats your boat. I simply don’t think signing your name to the bottom of a marriage certificate eight weeks after you’ve met someone is a good idea, no matter how strong the ‘match’ looks on paper.”
She stood, leaving her drink half empty on the bar. “It was nice meeting you, Mr.…”
“McManus.” He extended his hand, but she didn’t take it. “Ryder McManus, best man in your sister’s wedding.”
She paled right in front of his eyes. He dropped his hand as her jaw fell open.
“You’re Mitch’s best friend.”
He nodded. “The one and only.”
“And you’re—”
“Planning on doing everything I can to stop them from getting married. Mitch has to see the light. He has to know he’s taking a wrong step before he jumps over the edge.”
She searched the room. “Why would you do that? Why would you try to break up a couple who is clearly happily in love?”
“I don’t think it’s possible for them to be.”
Her hands found his face, and she turned it, so that he stared directly at Mitch and Carrie. They stood near the windows of the bar, their arms entwined, gazing into each other’s eyes. Sure, they looked like they were in love, but they were mistaken. They were in love with the thought of each other. Carrie was staring adoringly into the eyes of someone she thought she knew.
It wasn’t Mitch. Not really. The werewolf part of him was every bit as important as the non-shifter part of him, and he hadn’t shared that with her yet.
“Listen, Josie.” He turned back to her, holding her hands in place. Her touch tied his stomach in knots. “I’m not the type of person to stand up at a wedding and expose a bunch of secrets or spout personal information that’d ruin the wedding. I’m not one of those psychopaths. But if Mitch asks for my opinion in the next six days, I’m going to offer it freely. It’s my duty as his friend, especially if he’s having doubts.”
“Mitch is having doubts?”
He sealed his lips, giving away nothing.
“Okay, fine.” She forced a tight smile and ripped her hands from his. “But just so you know, I think they’re perfect together. And if either of them asks for my advice in the next six days, I’m going to give it. That’s my duty as her sister, and the one who set them up in the first place.”
He watched as she walked away and embraced her sister in a giant hug. The lights in the bar seemed oddly trained on her, on the highlights in her hair and the even tones of her skin. They continued talking, laughing, and shooting him strange glances, while he ordered a second Three-Eyed Raven.
The woman definitely had good taste.
But she was wrong.
Sexy as hell, but still. Wrong.
And he’d use every opportunity this week to tell her so.
Chapter Two
With his driver’s seat pushed back as far as it would go, Ryder watched the entrance to the hotel across the street for signs of cheating Mr. Boone. After finding a tube of lipstick and condoms that didn’t belong to her in their car, Mrs. Boone—his wife of forty years—had retained Ryder’s services.
Slumping into the seat, he finished off the last of his Monster. He hadn’t slept a wink last night, thanks to dirty dreams of Josie Cole.
Desperate to get to work and get his mind off Josie, he followed Mr. Boone from his home in Daly City to the Sheraton at Fisherman’s Wharf. Thirty minutes ago, Mr. Boone had left his silver Envoy with the valet. A short redhead—five foot three, one hundred twenty pounds, if he had to guess—met him at the entrance with a bright smile. They’d disappeared inside together.
Wasn’t looking good for Mrs. Boone.
Typical.
Scanning his notes, Ryder double-checked everything Mrs. Boone had described. Talking on the phone late at night. Leaving for work early and coming home late. Strange fragrance on his clothes. And the nail in the coffin: lipstick and condoms in the car.
Cynicism had definitely set in, but 99 percent of men in the scenarios presented to him were cheating. The other one percent were cross-dressing.
For Mrs. Boone’s sake, he’d find out which.
His phone buzzed, vibrating over the passenger seat.
Mitch.
The text read: Drank too much last nite. Didn’t tell Carrie so don’t say anything at brunch.
Damn it. He’d completely forgotten about the next wedding event. Mitch’s future bride had crammed so many events into the next week, how was he supposed to remember each one?
Eleven o’clock.
Already late.
Moments before putting his Dodge Charger in gear and pulling away from the curb, a group of people filed out of the Sheraton. Sitting upright, he peered out. Mr. Boone was one of the men in the group, but the redhead was nowhere to be seen.
He knew the ruse well. One would leave alone, followed by the other, so no one would associate the two together.
Sometimes the detective work was too easy.
If he had more time, he’d wait for the redhead to leave and follow her until he received solid information on who she was and what her relationship was with Mr. Boone.
But not today.
Scrawling a quick note about what he’d seen, Ryder drove toward Sikes’ Skewers. He arrived at eleven thirty, pulled a navy-blue polo over his white cotton T-shirt, and adjusted his black slacks. They were wrinkled from sitting for so long, but he didn’t have time to make it home and back for brunch now.
Sikes’ Skewers was bright and airy, with round tables filling the dining area. The place was famous for cheese and vegetable, and chocolate fondues, although Ryder had never been there.
Mitch rushed over when he walked in.
“About time you got here.” He strode toward a table near the back of the restaurant. Ryder followed, searching the restaurant for Little Miss Sexy Matchmaker. “I put you at the back with Carrie’s sister. You guys will get along great.”
“I met her last night,” he countered.
The dryness in his tone had Mitch leveling him with a stare. “Oh yeah? How’d it go?”
“Not as good as I would’ve liked.” No, he would’ve liked to take her to bed, but he’d opened his mouth. “Is she here yet?”
“I’m taking you to her.” They weaved around table after table of family and friends he didn’t recognize. “I thought you might have a lot in common. Look, she’s over there.”
As Mitch patted him on the back, he wound around the nearest table, leaving Ryder standing alone in the middle of the crowded room. With a deep breath, he approached Josie’s side. Melting pots of cheese, broth, and chocolate mixtures had been placed in the center of the table. Smal
l dishes of meat, vegetables, fruit, and crackers circled each one. Skewers lined the side, waiting to stab a chunk of food and be submerged in a bubbling bowl of sauce.
As he took the seat next to her, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
“This seat taken?” he teased.
He’d already claimed the chair and wasn’t moving now.
“Depends.” She dipped a cracker in the cheese and nibbled off the end. “You still dead set on ruining my sister’s happiness?”
Her words were meant to aggravate him, but he admired a straight shooter. Didn’t find that a lot in his business.
He stabbed a chunk of chicken and then stuck it in the seasoned broth. “I’m looking out for her happiness, actually.”
“How’s that?”
“There are things she doesn’t know about Mitch that she should before they walk down the aisle.” He bit into the chicken, relishing the flavors as they hit his tongue. Heightened senses were only a small benefit to being a werewolf, but one he loved the most. Everything was intensified: food, drinks, sex. “There are things she can’t know from one of your applications.”
“Clearly she knows enough to want to marry him.” She swiveled toward him, waving a skewer through the air. “And what doesn’t she know?”
He took another bite slowly, swallowing down the truth about Mitch’s other, much hairier side. “He snores. And he hates the opera.”
Throwing her head back in a sultry laugh, Josie moved on to a slice of zucchini. “You think those two things are enough to ruin their future together?”
“Not only those.” Skewering another piece of chicken, he tossed it into the air and then caught it in his mouth. “But they were covered in your application, so they should’ve been a nonissue. Your application process is seriously lacking.”
“What would you know about it?”
“I looked you up,” he said flatly. “To see if you were legit. I downloaded the sample application and checked it out. The thing is, most of the stuff you ask are simple, superficial things people could lie about. They’re meaningless when determining compatibility since you don’t know if the person is being honest or not.”
“Oh yeah?” Leaning back in her chair, Josie folded her arms over her chest. Her lips puckered slightly when she was aggravated. Her cheeks flushed, too. Rather than being off-putting, her tenacity was admirable. Stimulating to say the least. “Tell me again how you’re a matchmaking expert?”
“I’m not, but your application process is flawed.”
“Thanks for your humble opinion.” She laughed now, a delicate string of sounds that tingled through his ears. As her gaze skipped around the room and landed on one of the cameras pointed their direction, she simmered down and cleared her throat. “Even though the list is a crucial part in determining a couple’s compatibility, it’s only one piece of the pie.”
Stealing her skewer, he jabbed the end through a chunk of steak and held it up. “Or one piece of the cow.”
“Sure.” Her button nose wrinkled. “If you like meat. I prefer pie.”
“Back up,” he mumbled through the taste of robustly flavored steak. “You don’t like any meat, or steak in particular?’
“No steak, chicken, pork—”
“Fish?”
“No fish, either. I’m a vegetarian, and that’s one thing on my list. He’s got to be a vegetarian, too.”
Oh, Miss Matchmaker had a list? Curiosity pricked him hard. How well did fate really know them?
“Are the other things on your list just as restrictive?” he asked.
“You know what?” She chomped on a chocolate-dipped marshmallow. “I don’t see the point in explaining it to you, since you’re only going to tell me how it won’t help me find someone.”
Her brows knit together, and her gaze shot to his. There was something in her expression—a flicker of recognition, or was it a question? He couldn’t decide which. And before he could read it further, she averted her attention to the spread in front of them.
“I won’t mock your list.” He dropped the skewer mid-dunk, and used two fingers to mark over his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Groaning, she lowered another marshmallow into the chocolate. The sound went straight to his groin, lighting him with desire.
“Sometimes I wish you would,” she teased, a smile curving her lips.
“Come on.” Snatching an extra poker, he jabbed her gently in the ribs. “One thing on your list.”
Jumping from his prod, she rolled her eyes. “He’s got to be a vegetarian, for one, so when we go to restaurants we can get two plates of different things, and pick off each other’s.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a solid plan.”
“I do.” She nodded rather decidedly. “And he should love cats as much as I do.”
Fate was so far off the mark, it wasn’t even remotely funny. If he hooked up with Josie, they’d fight about everything: where to eat, what to eat, whether to have cats or dogs. God, the list would go on and on.
Further proof he was better alone.
Didn’t mean he wasn’t insanely attracted to her. Wouldn’t be a hot-blooded male if he wasn’t. If he had the chance…if she gave him the green light, it’d be on.
“And I don’t care if he snores or loves the opera,” she went on. “My sister won’t either.”
Intrigue gripped him. “What else?”
“Well, wait a second. I told you two, now you should tell me two of yours.”
“Is this like you show me yours and I show you mine game?” he whispered, moving close to her shoulder. “Because I’m all for it.”
…
Chills scattered over her entire body, from the tips of her toes to the back of her neck. Her mouth dropped open and dried completely. How was it possible that Ryder could have such an effect on her? He was aggravating her to no end, yet playfulness—and undeniable, scorching-hot radiating sexiness—coated his tone. He turned toward her when he talked. He looked at her. Really looked at her as if he was listening to every word she said. She felt as if she were being unwound. Slowly. Teasingly. She couldn’t remove herself from the table if she wanted to. He’d fixed her there with his penetrating gaze, his gravelly voice, and his attentive nature.
She needed more of the banter between them, and more of him.
“Simmer down, Turbo,” she answered finally. “We’re not playing that game. All I’m saying is, why would I tell you more about what’s on my list without you sharing what’s on yours?”
He tapped the dull end of the skewer against his cheek. “I’ll have to remember what I put on it.”
“You mean you actually filled out one of my applications?”
“I told you I did.”
No, he’d said he downloaded it. He must’ve been interested in the process if he took the time to answer the questions.
“Hmm…meat-eater and dog lover were definitely listed.” His gaze shot to hers, and he winked. “Your turn.”
Sighing as a blanket of gooseflesh covered her body, Josie averted her attention to the fruit in front of her. At least that way she wouldn’t have to look into his mesmerizing blue eyes. She poked a raspberry, dipped it into the chocolate, and shoved it into her mouth.
“Stable home life is important to me, since I only have my sister.” She chewed slowly, enjoying the delicious combination. “Having a good job is essential, too. A man should be able to support himself without working crazy hours.”
Nodding, Ryder stared down at his empty plate.
“He also needs to be a hopeless romantic like me,” she went on, licking chocolate from her lips. “That’s a must.”
“I don’t think anyone is like you…” As his gaze homed in on her mouth, he paused, reaching out for her. “You’re a mess.”
“Excuse me?” She pulled back slowly, staring at his hand as it hovered near her mouth. “What are you doing?”
“There’s chocolate…right there.” He swiped the co
rner of her mouth with the soft pad of his finger and then pulled back. “Sorry. Easier to get it myself than direct you to the smudge.”
She quivered as the scent of his skin and the warmth of his touch lingered on her lips. “I am a mess.”
A big, trembling, sexually aroused mess.
Swiping her mouth with her napkin—something she could’ve done in the first place—Josie watched Ryder suck on the finger that’d just touched her lips. He only put the tip of his finger inside, but the movement of his mouth and the eroticism of the gesture nearly broke her.
“You’re mouthwatering,” He shook his head and frowned as if shaking off some kind of fog. “I meant the chocolate, of course.”
“Of course.”
But the explosion of sexual tension heating between them spoke differently. Based on physical intimacy alone, her chemistry with Ryder was off the charts. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone, ever. But he was trying to destroy everything that was finally going well in her life.
What kind of a person would be so hard up to ruin their friend’s relationship when he seemed genuinely happy? He must’ve been lying to himself, thinking he could convince Mitch to remain a bachelor with him.
“Honesty and loyalty,” she blurted, feeling awkward in her own skin. “Those are my top two.”
He frowned, turning her way. “Honesty and loyalty?”
“Absolutely. A relationship without those things can’t last.”
“I find that ironic.”
“Why’s that?”
Laughter floated over from the next table, and for the first time, Josie realized there were other people in the restaurant. How easily he could make her forget it wasn’t only the two of them.
“Because I’m sitting here telling you that there are things Mitch isn’t telling your sister, yet you are dead set on having them go through with their wedding. If you were loyal to your sister, you wouldn’t have set her up with a complete stranger. And if you were honest with yourself, you’d recognize the match is a bust.”
She dropped the skewer and turned toward him completely, giving him all her attention. “I set them up because they’re the perfect match. You’re simply too blind to see it. And you told me two things that are hardly deal breakers. Unless you know that he’s hiding something else, or lied about a huge aspect on his application, I’m choosing my sister’s happiness over your suspicions.”
What a Werewolf Wants (San Francisco Wolf Pack) Page 2
