An Unlikely Match (The Match Series - Book #1)

by Dunlop, Barbara

  “It’s a gymnastics gym.”

  “Ahhh.” He swirled the wine in the bottom of his glass.

  “I’ve been involved in gymnastics since I was seven. Most cheerleaders are. I also do ballet, though not as often as I used to. But, depending on the role, I might take it up again on a regular basis.”

  “You dance ballet?” Now that he could picture.

  “I look pretty good in a tutu,” she joked.

  “I bet you do.” As soon as the flirtatious words were out, he regretted them. He quickly took a drink of his wine to cover the mistake.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “I’d look terrible in a tutu.”

  She gave a soft chuckle.

  “At least, I hope I would,” he elaborated. “It’d be pretty damn depressing if I didn’t.”

  She made a show of eyeing him up and down under the water. “I think we’re safe in saying you’d look awful. So, what did you do today?”

  “I went bike riding, quite a ways up in the hills.”

  “I thought the road ended at the park.”

  “There’s a huge network of trails up higher. One of my colleagues at Caltech is a big mountain biker. I’ve always done road biking, but I’m making the switch. It’s a whole new experience.”

  “How so?”

  “No noise. No traffic. Lots of bumps, and plenty of up and downhill. And, of course, spectacular views.”

  “I’d like to try it sometime.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Okay, he got that if she was a normal woman, now would be the time to ask her on a date. But this was Amelia, cheerleader, budding movie star and goddess extraordinaire. She didn’t want to date nerdy researcher Morgan Holbrook. Again, he’d embarrass them both if he asked.

  “Cole and I usually head out somewhere on the weekend,” he offered instead. “You’re welcome to come along.”

  There was a trace of amusement in her eyes. “Thanks.”

  Had he blown that? It felt like he’d blown it. But, of course, he hadn’t. He’d done the right thing.

  “What’s up with the reunion?” she asked.

  It took him a minute to figure out what she was talking about. “You mean the high school thing?”

  “Did you get it all set up?”

  He gave a noncommittal shrug. It was as set up as it was ever going to be.

  “It’s coming up next weekend, right?” she pressed.

  He had no idea how she’d remembered that. “That sounds right.”

  She straightened. “What do you mean it sounds right? Haven’t you made a hotel reservation?”

  “It’s next weekend,” he allowed without elaborating.

  “Morgan?” There was a warning in her tone.

  “What?”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “I’m not staying anywhere. I’m not going to the reunion.” The last thing in the world he wanted to do on a Saturday night was hang out with a huge crowd of people who’d shunned and taunted him for four long years.

  She scooted along the tile bench toward him. “But you have to go to the reunion.”

  “No. In fact, I don’t.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong on this, Morgan. But you were a bit of a nerd in high school.”

  So nice of her to bring that up.

  “Your point?” he asked between clenched teeth.

  “My point is that now’s the time to show them.”

  “Show them what?” The water ripples smoothed out, and he couldn’t drag his gaze from the swell of her breasts beneath her bikini top.

  “That you’ve got a big-time job. That you turned out great. This is your chance to show them.”

  “You’re making an assumption that I care about their opinion.” He didn’t. It had all happened ten long years ago. And, really, it hadn’t been all that bad. And they were nothing to him anyway.

  “You’re human. So, on some level, you care.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, I don’t. But if I did, even if I did, I’m exactly the same person I was back then. I haven’t changed. I didn’t get better.”

  She drew back, eyeing him up and down. “What are you talking about? You’re fantastic. You’re hot. All those girls who wouldn’t go to the prom with you in high school are going to be drooling over you now.”

  He laughed at that. “You pegged me as a science nerd in about thirty seconds.”

  “Well, yeah, but that’s just...” She seemed to stumble over her words. She gestured along his body, to his glasses, his hair. “You’re only...it’s only the veneer.”

  “It’s not the veneer, Amelia. It’s who I am.”

  Her eyes took on a speculative gleam. “Well, we’ll change that.”

  “I don’t want to change that.”

  She waved off his protest. “I don’t mean the real you. I mean the veneer. The real you isn’t at all what you project.”

  “You don’t know the real me.”

  “I know you need a new haircut. You need a new wardrobe. And have you ever thought about getting contacts?”

  “I don’t like contacts.” He knew his tone sounded peevish, but he didn’t care. She was affirming everything he’d feared she thought of him, and he was discovering he didn’t like hearing the truth.

  “Nobody likes contacts,” she countered. “But you get used to them.”

  “Do you wear contacts?”

  “No. But I would. If I needed them. Maybe I’ll need them someday. Who knows? And if I do, I’ll get them. But you need them now.”

  He watched her in fascination. “Exactly how long can you talk without taking a breath?”

  “I can talk as long as it takes to make you give in.”

  “What am I giving in to?”

  “Going to your reunion. Tossing it all back in their faces. You need this, Morgan. Everybody needs something like this. I’ll help you get ready. You’ll be triumphant, an off-the-charts success. Trust me, everyone will be totally impressed.”

  He glanced at his watch. “That was twenty-four seconds.”

  “You know how I know they’ll be impressed?” This time, she stopped and waited.

  “How?” he dutifully inquired.

  “Because I’m them. I picked on the nerds in high school. I know what the cool kids look for. I know what they admire.”

  He had to admit she had a point. It was obvious she’d had a perky cheerleader personality her entire life. High school would have been a breeze for her. She might think she knew what it was like for the other half, but she really had no idea.

  “I’ll think about it,” he agreed in order to end the conversation.

  She reached for his wrist, turning it so that his watch faced her. “You have two hours.”

  “You’re setting conditions?” He struggled to ignore the feel of her slick, slender fingers against his skin.

  “You bet I am.”

  His gaze locked on to hers. “What if I say no?”

  She gave him a confident, dazzling smile. “You’re not going to say no to me.”

  He understood the reasons for her confidence. He didn’t imagine any man with a pulse had ever said no to her.

  Chapter Five

  An hour later, Amelia was curled up in a cushioned chair on Morgan’s deck, a light, pale yellow cover-up thrown over her bikini. The air was still sultry warm, not a hint of a breeze, the stars brilliant beyond the dim pot lights set around the garden.

  “You seem to keep feeding me,” she couldn’t help noting as she bit into a chicken sausage from the grill. It was wrapped in a toasted bun and slathered with spicy sauce. The taste was heavenly.

  “That’s because I can afford more food.” Morgan settled into the opposite chair, their wineglasses and a fresh bottle on the small, round table between them.

  “I really can’t argue with that.” Her tips continued to be good, but her hourly wage was abysmal.

  �
�How are the auditions coming?” he asked between bites.

  She swallowed, considering how to answer. “Not bad.”

  “Getting any parts?”

  “Not so much.”

  “Getting any encouragement?”

  “Not so much,” she admitted.

  It was tougher out there than she’d expected. The crowds were bigger, the casting directors less receptive. She’d decided there were few things in life more demoralizing than a cattle call.

  He fixed his attention on her expression. “So, what exactly does ‘not bad’ mean?”

  “It means I haven’t slit my wrists, and I’m soldiering on.”

  He seemed to consider that for a moment. “Good for you.”

  It didn’t look like he was being sarcastic. In fact, he looked quite sincere. For some reason, that made her feel slightly better.

  “Anything coming up?” he asked, going back to eating.

  “A few bit parts in commercials. And I’ve signed up to be an extra at a couple of the studios. Something might come of that. There is one thing...” She hesitated. She wasn’t exactly superstitious, but it was a role she’d truly die to get.

  “What is it?”

  “I heard about it through a friend from college. Apparently, they’re having a hard time casting for the little sister of Detective Drake Banner in Cavalier Cop.”

  “I’ve seen that show,” said Morgan, topping off their wineglasses as he spoke.

  “They need a girl next door who can also play an evil siren.”

  His face curved into a smile. “You think that’s you?”

  “Hey, I can do girl next door.”

  “I’m more worried about your ability to do evil siren.”

  “Hah. That’s no problem.” She popped the last bit of the sausage into her mouth.

  He sat back. “Let’s see.”

  “See what?”

  “Let’s see you do one of the parts.”

  “Right now?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  He motioned to an open spot on the deck. “You’re a professional. Bring it on.”

  “Okay.” She swallowed her nerves as she stood. But she was a professional. “Girl next door first. Give me a minute to think.”

  She finger-combed her hair and refastened her ponytail. Blinking her eyes wide and letting her jaw go loose, she tugged the cover-up a little farther down her thighs.

  “You’re the captain, my brother’s boss, and you strongly suspect I stole a valuable painting from the master bedroom of an industrialist’s mansion during a party.”

  Morgan came to his feet. “Should I say something?”

  “Ask me what I did with the painting.”

  He took a step forward, squaring his shoulders, looking tall and stern. “What did you do with the painting?”

  She let her voice go soft and low, folding her hands in front of her. “I never even saw the painting.”

  “You were at the party.”

  “I was,” she said with a slow nod. “But I was outside. I never even went upstairs.”

  “How did you know the painting was upstairs?” he challenged, obviously improvising.

  “Drake told me it was in the master bedroom.”

  Morgan frowned in mock displeasure. “Drake needs to stop compromising my investigation.”

  Amelia couldn’t help thinking he was a pretty good actor.

  She put a gentle hand on his arm. “Please don’t blame Drake.”

  “Then tell me the truth.”

  “This is the truth.”

  Morgan grinned and relaxed. “I have to say, I believe you.”

  “Yeah?” she asked.

  “You do innocent very well.”

  “Okay.” She reached back and dragged the fastener from her ponytail. Then she pulled the cover-up over her head and tossed it onto the chair.

  “One second,” she promised, scooting over the fence between their yards, retrieving a pair of high-heeled sandals from beside the patio door.

  She came back and slipped them on to her feet. Then she mussed her hair a little bit and moistened her lips. She narrowed her eyes, tightening her jaw.

  “Okay, go,” she told Morgan.

  He put on his stern look again. “What did you do with the painting?”

  She moved in close, tossing her hair, smirking ever so slightly. “I never even saw the painting.”

  “You were at the party.”

  “Everybody who is anybody was at the party.”

  “Did you go upstairs?”

  Amelia gave a knowing smile, walking her fingers along his T-shirt-covered chest. “Whatever are you suggesting, Captain?”

  He sucked in a breath. “I’m suggesting you stole the painting.”

  “From the master bedroom?”

  “How did you know it was in the master bedroom?”

  She inched closer. “Drake, of course.”

  “Drake needs to stop compromising my investigation.”

  She placed the flat of her hand against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. Then she stretched up, putting her lips next to his ear, brushing her cheek ever so slightly against his as she whispered, “If I stole the painting, Captain, you’ll never prove it.”

  “A little forced.” He cleared his throat and abruptly stepped away from her.

  “You didn’t like it?” she asked, disappointment washing over her.

  “The innocent side was perfect. But you seemed to be overacting with the other.”

  “Thanks.” She pulled the cover-up over her head, feeling suddenly embarrassed and exposed.

  “Would you rather I lied?”

  “Of course not.”

  “You can practice.”

  “Sure. Yeah. I’ll practice.” She took a drink from her wineglass. Of maybe it was his wineglass. Whatever. She didn’t really care.

  “I didn’t say it to upset you.” He sounded genuinely remorseful. “I was trying to help.”

  An answer didn’t immediately spring to her mind. She hadn’t wanted him to lie. But she’d definitely wanted to impress him.

  “Maybe I should skip the audition.”

  “You mean stay home and pout instead?”

  She shot him a glare.

  “You’re going to have to develop a thicker skin, Amelia.”

  “My skin’s plenty thick.” She’d taken all of her rejection in stride so far.

  “Life up to now hasn’t toughened you up much, has it?” His skepticism was clear.

  Then he glanced at the table, and an expression of confusion crossed his face. She realized she had in fact taken his wineglass. But as quick as the confusion appeared, it disappeared. He lifted the remaining glass and put it to his lips.

  “You don’t know what my life’s been like,” she pointed out.

  “Do tell.” He sat back down and waited.

  “Nobody ever takes me seriously. My parents, my brother. Just because I’m pretty, they think I’m an airhead. They don’t think I know it, but that’s what they call me. Amelia Airhead. My whole life, whenever something serious came up, they’ve patted me patronizingly on the head and told me to run along and play. They don’t expect anything of me.”

  “What do you expect of you?”

  The question surprised Amelia. Nobody had ever asked her that. She wasn’t sure how to answer.

  “It doesn’t matter what they expect or don’t expect,” Morgan continued. “You’re the one who counts.”

  “I wanted to graduate college.” Her sports and social life hadn’t left much time to study, and she’d sometimes worried about passing classes.

  “Congratulations.” He held up the wineglass in a mock toast. “You graduated. Now what?”

  “Now I want to get a good acting job.” She found herself frowning, as she remembered his criticism.

  “Why?” he asked softly.

  “To earn money and be successful.”

  “Why acting?”

  “I like acting. It’s fun
.”

  “You could struggle for years and not make any money.”

  She knew it was true, but she didn’t like to dwell on the odds. “I always got good parts in school.”

  “You’re in a bigger pond now.”

  She strove to put confidence in her voice. “I can swim.”

  He quirked a smile. “I’m sure you can.”

  “What about you and rocket science?” she found herself asking. “Why did you pick that?”

  “I’m curious,” he answered. “I want to figure out how things work and how to make them work better.”

  “That sounds very noble.”

  He gave a shrug. “To be honest, I picked it because it’s fun.”

  “You think rocket science is fun?”

  “I do.”

  “You’re a super nerd, you know that?”

  He grinned.

  “Speaking of which.” She rose and crossed to his chair, taking his wrist to check the time. “Yep. Your two hours are up.”

  His eyes grew guarded. “That’s your deadline, not mine.”

  “You gotta do it, Morgan.” She didn’t know why she was so certain, but she was.

  “I don’t have to do anything.”

  “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

  “That seems unlikely.”

  She hadn’t let go of his wrist, and for some reason she didn’t want to let it go. She liked the connection between them, even if it was flimsy at best. Giving in to temptation, she wrapped her hand more fully around his wrist.

  His gaze flicked down for a second.

  “I’ll practice acting if you’ll go to your reunion.”

  “I already have a good job.”

  Though he was sitting and she was standing, she was only slightly taller than he was. “I know you have a good job. You should show it off.”

  “I don’t need to impress them.”

  “They need to be impressed.”

  His gaze narrowed in puzzlement.

  She eased into the space between his spread knees. “They need to see what you’ve become, who you are, that they were idiots not to have respected you back then.”

  “Why do you care?”

  Good question. Why did she care? She mentally cataloged a range of flippant responses before deciding to go with the truth. She gazed into his midnight-blue eyes. “I don’t know. There’s something about you...”