Breaking the Bachelor (Entangled Lovestruck) (Smart Cupid)

by Maggie Kelley

  “Don’t remind me.” The attention from Jane’s jaw-dropping bet hadn’t been part of his plan. Tough shit now that NY Singles was calling him the Love Gamble Bachelor. Photos, magazine articles, information about his education, the address of the bar—the whole nine—all over Facebook. He’d spent yet another morning fielding calls about his love life, not his favorite pastime.

  Nick swiped his electronic key card and opened the last batting cage on the right. “No sympathy from me, buddy. I’m a one-woman man.”

  “One woman, every other week.” Like his sister, Nick had more than a few issues.

  He nodded his concession. “Miss Last Wednesday was nice, very nice.”

  “Any chance you remember her name?”

  He shook his head. “Only messes with my rules. No sleepovers, no back-to-back dates, no Sundays during football season.”

  “You, your sister, and rules.”

  “Hey, grow up like we did, you need rules.” He dropped his equipment on the metal bench. “Besides, is it my fault they always need a commitment?”

  Inside the state-of-the art cage, Charlie pulled a couple aluminum bats from his bag and set them down on the Astroturf. “Women.”

  “Can’t live with ‘em,” Nick started the adage.

  “Can’t keep my damned hands off ‘em.” Charlie chose a bat, set the pitch speed and stepped up the plate. “One of ‘em anyway.”

  Nick scrubbed his face in his hands. “You need to keep that shit to yourself, bro, okay? She is my sister.”

  “Yeah, well…” Charlie took one swing and knocked it out of the cages. “Fuck it, she’s never going to trust me if she doesn’t by now. I’m out.”

  The hell with his seduction plan. That had Red Bulled it out of the window while he was walking down West 23rd. And revenge? Puh-lease. She’d turned the tables on him the moment she swept back into his life bearing bagels and a bad attitude.

  Nick picked up a bat and tapped it on the side of his cleats. “I think if you’d tell—”

  “Don’t, Nick. Don’t think. Your thinking always gets me in trouble.” After last night, he was ready to declare the game over. Rainout. Washed up. Whatever. “Time to call it a loss.”

  He shrugged as if the conversation meant nothing, but Charlie knew better. “You want to throw in the towel, say it’s a total loss, hey, up to you. No doubt about it. My sister can be difficult.”

  “Difficult?” Charlie released a short bark of a laugh. “She’s infuriating.”

  A hit sailed over the wall. “Yes.”

  “Quick tempered.”

  Another down the third base line. “Can be.”

  “She threw me out of her apartment and I was practically half-naked.”

  Nick smiled. “Did she get photos? Because that’s pretty fucking funny.”

  “Half. Naked.”

  His friend stared him down. “Last warning. Too close to the TMI line.”

  Charlie tapped the bat on the ground, impatient. “Yeah, well, your little sister went on national television and bet my love life. Not hers. Mine.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead and pointed his bat at Nick. “I didn’t do that, Nick. She made her own bet.”

  “And you’re letting her lie in it.”

  “No, I agreed to be her bachelor, bailed her out like always.” Charlie tossed the ball in the air and hit it off to the side. “But, hell, maybe it’ll work out and her criteria matrix will find my true love, because it’s obviously not Jane Wright.”

  “Bullshit.” Turning on his machine, Nick started hitting and the sound of the fast pitch cracking against his bat punctuated every word. “And you know it. Yes, she’s scared, so she arms herself with her lists and plans, but at least she isn’t hiding.”

  “And I am?” He pointed the end of his bat at his chest, dead center, before turning away to step over to the plate. “Now that’s bullshit.”

  “In college, you dated half of Midtown.” Nick picked up a few balls and tapped them off to the side one by one. “Not once did I see you get serious.”

  Charlie felt the rhythm of his swing catch fire. “You should talk about being serious.”

  His friend laughed. “Hey, we both know I’m not cut out for love. But my sister never stopped trying. Sure, her list is crazy, but at least she has the balls to try. More than I can say about either of us.”

  “Speak for yourself.” He continued swinging, a release for his pent-up energy.

  Nick looked him square in the eye. “Truth telling time. You need to stop holding back and start making your case before you screw up this relationship permanently.”

  “Make my case? Isn’t that what I’m doing?”

  “All this chemistry crap? Come on, Charlie, you’re starting to piss me off.” Nick pushed his sleeves back and leaned against the chain link fence. “The fact that you lost your mom sucks. Believe me, I get it. But we’re not kids anymore. And my sister’s not as secure as she pretends.” He shook his head and looked away. “Stop screwing around and tell her the truth. Make it real. Tell her you love her.”

  Make it real. With no answer to give, he tossed half a dozen baseballs into the corner of the cage, one after the other.

  Nick stopped the last one with the edge of his cleat. “Listen, you can call bullshit with other people, but don’t try it with me, okay? I was there when your seven-year-old ass had nowhere else to go.”

  He shot him a glare. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  Nick bent down, picked up the balls and tossed them back over. “Get your shit together. If you don’t, your pride won’t be much consolation when she stops waiting for you and disappears. For good this time.”

  “Get off my back, Nick. I lost my mom long before your father took off. I had nobody for a damned long time and when I finally take a chance…” He took another swing and the crack of the ball against his bat echoed through the cage. “I know all about being left behind, Nick.” One wrong turn down a one-way street. One ridiculous pink cocktail. He banged another hit, frustration making for good baseball. “But I told you, I’m out.”

  Nick scrubbed his face in his hands. “Right, and that’s why you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

  He set up the next round of pitches to fall right in his strike zone. “Hey, watch it, bro, she’s your little sister.”

  Nick sighed. “She is, Charlie. Don’t forget that.” He grabbed a sports drink from his bag and twisted off the cap. “Maybe she needs to know that she’s not just some girl you’ll chuck away in a few weeks. Not everybody gets a shot at the real deal.”

  Charlie started to protest, but he waved him off. “I know she tossed you out half-naked, and she’s tough and quick-tempered, and hell, probably emotionally stunted. But whether or not, you can admit it, Charlie, you love her.”

  Not sure whether to laugh or bang his head against his metal bat, Charlie ran a hand across his clenched jaw and listened.

  “You love that she survived Brooklyn, that she had the guts to build her company out of nothing, that she has a heart big enough to be Cupid. You admire that heart, and that doesn’t come along every day. Trust me, I know. Maybe instead of bailing her out”—he tossed out a set of air quotes—“you need to show her that you’re more than the guy who twisted her brothers’ arms until they let her play street hockey. Hell, give her a reason to believe she’s more.”

  “More what?”

  “More to you, buddy. More to you.” Nick turned off the machine and grabbed his gear. “Think about it. I’m hitting the showers.”

  A fastball crossed the plate and Charlie cracked it to the fences. Oh, he’d think about it, all right. Insecure? Big-hearted? Nothing insecure about the way she kicked him to the curb last night. No. Not Jane. Nothing insecure about that woman.

  Not one damn thing.

  And as far as her big heart was concerned…well…up for debate.

  Even if he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  …

  Jane stood outside her favorit
e coffee shop and considered whether or not she needed a Plan B. Or a Plan C. Or maybe a full-on A to Z disaster plan. The entire day had passed without a word from Charlie—no text, no call, no nothing—not a good sign for date number two. She sighed and ducked into the shop.

  Normally, she loved the cozy atmosphere of the place, the tables filled with college students and commuters, the occasional mom with a cherub-faced toddler strapped to her back, but with the sky darkening on day two of five, Jane felt cranky and in need of caffeine. If only the place sold her favorite extra hot, no-whip, triple mocha lattes intravenously, so she could administer the caffeinated substance directly into her bloodstream. Tonight, she was going to need it. If her second attempt to end Charlie’s bachelor days bombed, Cupid and Company would be hitting up the unemployment line. Hoping to avoid that nightmare, she planned to pull an all-nighter and strategize a new approach if this second date failed to inspire love. She checked her phone again. Still no Charlie.

  She placed an order for her usual and stepped over to the side to wait it out. And that’s when she saw him—the Antichrist.

  Probably there to gloat.

  Even she had to say, the devil was attractive in an action-movie guy way. Intense, with a bit of an edge, despite his pricey clothes and cool manner. If he weren’t the enemy, she’d be typing a criteria list into her phone and setting him up with the barista who was having trouble keeping her eyes off him.

  She frowned over at him. “Not enough to detonate a bomb under my career, now you feel the need to infiltrate my coffee shop.”

  “Infiltrate is a strong word.”

  She ignored him, and checked her phone one more time.

  “Can I buy your coffee?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Hands buried deep in the pockets of his neatly pressed trousers, he rolled back on his designer shoes, and spoke quietly, “Jane, about the bet…”

  “I still have three days.”

  “But you realize that there is no matrix. There’s no way to predict love. Not in five days. Not in five years. There’s no way to predict the future.”

  She gave him a sidelong glance and picked up her order. Coffee in hand, she walked to the exit. He followed, laying out his matchmaking strategy as if it made a damned bit of difference. “The dating game’s all about the numbers,” he said, opening the door for her, “The more cards in front of you, the better your chances are of yelling, ‘Bingo!’”

  After a fortifying sip of the coffee, she said, “True love is a science, Adam, not a game you win by playing the odds.”

  The bitter February wind kicked up. “About playing the odds. I might’ve set them in my favor for this bet by picking your ex.”

  She glanced over at him wondering how much he knew about her relationship with Charlie.

  He caught her elbow and continued, “When the show came to me, I ran with it, but it was all about the publicity. I never meant to undermine your company. I’d heard about you and the bartender, and I thought…”

  “You’d play matchmaker?”

  A shrug of his shoulder informed his answer. “Me, matching Cupid? A helluva match, the kind that takes a company to the next level.” He held his hands out wide in apology. “But if you want to call off the bet, we can make it happen.”

  “Call off the bet?” She tossed him a mini death stare, but considered the idea that he might—just this once—be sincere. “And miss out on the chance to see you passing out conversation hearts and chocolate outside the Cupid office? No way.”

  He shrugged. “May the best matchmaker win.”

  Jane watched him walk away knowing that even if she won, she’d still lose.

  And damn, she hated to lose.

  Chapter Eleven

  @smartCupid Social media is part of the contemporary dating scene. Embrace it.

  @KathieLeeandHoda Is it a match? You decide. Check out the latest on YouTube. #bachelorsightings

  YouTube Heat…or Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places

  The Love Gamble’s sexy barkeep made a hot-and-heavy kiss-stop in Chelsea late last night. But who is the mystery woman? Check out the YouTube link below if you’re up for a vicarious thrill, but lovers beware, the chemistry here is not G-Rated.

  Jane fell back against the cushions of her loveseat, pressed the phone against her pajama-covered chest and tried to pretend her world wasn’t crashing down on her like an avalanche.

  Oh my God. YouTube.

  Shit.

  She and Charlie…kissing outside her building…on YouTube.

  She tilted the screen and viewed the video one more time. Thank God her Chelsea brownstone was standard issue. And it was dark. And she’d dragged him in quick. At least, she had a shot at retaining her anonymity, if not her dignity.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Her face flamed fire truck red and she tried to breathe, despite the fact that every molecule of oxygen had already rushed from her lungs. She scrolled down to the comment section. More than thirty-two hundred shares.

  This is exactly what chemistry got a woman. Ever since her father had taken off, she’d maintained her emotional distance and control. There were too many real issues to worry about. Issues like her mother’s late nights and bad choices. Issues like working hard to get the hell out of Brooklyn. Well, her inner wild child had busted out last night and what had she gotten for it? Trouble. Serious, freaking trouble.

  Time to put that inner child in lockdown. If the news came out that Cupid was caught kissing the Love Gamble bachelor, it would compromise her entire reputation.

  Of course, none of that would matter if she lost the bet. And Jane was finally worried that she might. Since their post-chemistry explosion, Charlie had been MIA. No Cupid Report. No call. No text. No nothing. He’d bailed. Exactly the way she knew he would.

  She was considering breaking out the emergency chocolate when a text from Adam Walters popped onto the screen. Looks like you’re about to get lucky.

  If he was talking about the video…no, the image was too grainy, too dark. Her shaking fingers punched in a quick response. Lucky?

  A text message pinged back almost immediately. Don’t be coy. I’ve know you’ve seen the video—who hasn’t? There was a short pause. Your bachelor looks to be enjoying his date.

  Her fingers flew across the keys. Logic-based matchmaking does it every time.

  Three seconds later, a response appeared on the screen. Looks more like chemistry to me. Sweet dreams, Cupid.

  Sweet dreams, my ass. If he’d seen the video already, it’d probably hit the Best of YouTube by morning. She couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.

  A few clicks later, she was pressing the speed-dial for her brother. As always, he picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Janey.”

  She tugged hard on her ear, kept her tone casual. “Hey, any chance you’ve talked to Charlie today? Maybe recently. Like in the last hour or so.”

  There was a short pause before he said, “If you want to know if he’s still on his date, you need to call him. Not me.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the phone. How did he always know what she was thinking? “Calling him would be totally unprofessional. But maybe you saw him tonight? On the date?”

  A sigh filtered down through the line. “If it makes you happier, yes, I saw him and his date at that Italian place in Tribeca. Left about an hour ago. Quite a coincidence, both of us being there at the same time.”

  Heat burned across her cheeks and down her neck. Busted. Not that she’d admit it.

  Nick paused for a moment, probably waiting for a confession. “Anyway, thanks for the restaurant suggestion. But for the record, I’m not your narc.”

  “Just tell me…did he look happy?”

  Her brother’s voice held a shrug. “He’s Charlie. He always looks happy.”

  She reached over for the movie-sized box of Red Hots she bought on the way home. “Cheerful happy or Hallelujah-I-want-to-take-you-home-to-my bed happy?”

  “Jan
e.” Now his voice filled with empathy. She preferred the shrug. “If you’re worried about who Charlie’s taking home at night, maybe you shouldn’t be setting him up on all these dates.”

  The box was empty. Damn. “I’m not worried. I’m just…protecting my investment. After tonight, we’ve only got one more shot at true love.”

  “I heard.”

  “He told you?” Probably needed to cut back on the sugar.

  “Jane, you dragged the guy into a Today Show bet. His dating life isn’t exactly a secret.”

  “He’s the city’s sexiest bartender. When was his dating life ever a secret?”

  Nick sighed. “Just consider taking it easy on the guy, okay? He plays his cards pretty close to the vest sometimes, but his mom’s car wreck screwed him up. Give him a break, ’kay? Odds are somewhere in his seven-year-old brain, he’s convinced love’s the kiss of death.”

  She hated when her brother hit the mark. “Maybe.”

  “Definitely. But listen, if you tell him we discussed any of this shit, I’ll deny it.”

  “You’re such an attorney.”

  “Plausible deniability, Baby Jane. Plausible deniability.” His voice lowered to a near-whisper. “Listen, sis, sorry to debrief and run, but my date is on her way back to the table.”

  “I assume this is a first date?” No need to ask, first dates were her brother’s specialty.

  “They’re the best kind.” She could practically see the smile on his face.

  “One of these days, you’re going to fall hard.”

  “Not before you.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “And start my love life trending on Twitter? No thanks.” A hint of humor entered his voice as he said, “But if you really want to check out the status of Charlie’s dates, I hear there’s a YouTube video out there that’s a real scorcher. Jake certainly got a kick out of it.”

  She bent back the corner of a pink file folder lying in her lap. Great, even Jake was tuned into her nightmare and he lived like a recluse on that damn island. “I gotta go, Nick.”

  “I bet,” he said, with a chuckle. “Love you.”

  Ending the call on his teasing laughter, she turned her attention to the files and tossed aside the first one, a background check. So, Charlie went on his date. The second was an interview. Even took her to the place in Tribeca. Another background check hit the pile. She unwrapped a Hershey’s kiss from the small stash on the coffee table. Better to think about chocolate than Charlie. Now Charlie and some chocolate. Charlie and some caramel sauce. Whipped cream, ice cream, and a handful of nuts. She dropped the folders and slumped further into the loveseat.