by Kait Nolan
~*~
“Ice tea?” Delia called to Cole from the kitchen. She could see him crouched in her bedroom doorway, hammering the final tiny nails into the new trim he’d put in when he replaced her shattered bedroom door.
The man was handy.
He was a damn fine specimen, too, Delia thought as she sipped her own glass of iced tea and watched him work.
When he caught her watching him, he grinned wide enough to show dimples. “What was that?” He spotted the ice tea in her grip. “Oh yeah, I’ll take you up on a glass.”
He straightened his tools and stood, sauntering over to join her across the bar.
“It looks good. Brand new.”
“That’s the idea.” He gave her a smirk, and she knew it was because he loved her surprise over his manly skills. She rolled her eyes at him. He deserved to gloat, though. He had just helped her remove all trace of Jeff-Craig from her home.
“Thank you, Cole. I don’t know what I would have done—”
“Just don’t think about that.”
She had a sudden thought. “You never told me why you came that day. I wasn’t kind to you at lunch—”
“Yet more stuff we don’t have to think about.”
Delia walked around the peninsula and straight into his arms. He took a deep breath, and clutched her there. “Thank you, Cole,” she repeated quietly.
“This doesn’t feel like a step back,” he said.
“Oh…yeah. I completely changed my mind about that.” She looked up at him, and the look on his face was almost enough to scare her away.
She wasn’t any good at love.
Was she?
He gave her no time to overthink it. He smoothed her hair back from her face and lowered his lips to hers.
The garnet tingled, warm against her chest.
She couldn’t wait to find what his next kiss held in store. And the next, and the next…
Delia ended the kiss, and rested her forehead against his. He smiled, in no hurry to move. “Thanks for being mine,” she whispered, running a finger over his dimpled, unshaven cheek.
She knew him so well. But they’d never known each other like this.
He kissed her again, like they had all the time in the world to explore this thing between them. And they did.
Something old, turned new. Blissfully, wonderfully new.
The End
A Note From J.R.
I write fantasy and paranormal romance. I’m a native Oregonian, residing in the beautiful Portland area. I live with my husband, two young daughters and the family dog. I’m always searching for the magic in our world. I love to weave tales rooted in mythology, bringing legend to life in modern-day and fantasy settings. I’m the author of the Children of the Sidhe paranormal romance series, the Foulweather Twins fantasy series, and the Water Rites fantasy series.
For more of my fiction, visit jrpearsenelson.com or sign up for my new release newsletter.
Matchmaker Reality
By Sharon Hughson
Heat Level: 1 Flame
Written and published by Sharon Hughson
Copyright 2016 Sharon Hughson
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is a work of fiction. All people, places, and events are purely products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
No matter where you've been
Or who has destroyed your heart,
Love's power can make you whole.
Chapter One
Veronica Shay tried not to roll her eyes when her mother exclaimed, “You’re thirty!” As if that meant something in the modern world. Phone call or not, her mother always knew what Ronnie’s face was doing.
“Your brother is having a baby—”
“Actually, his wife is the pregnant one.” Ronnie only needed to dodge the topic of her love life for a few more months. Once the first grandchild arrived, her mother’s focus would be captivated by a squalling infant instead of Ronnie’s romantic prospects. Or lack thereof. Meaning she could continue her safely single existence without incurring her mother’s attempts at intervention.
“Don’t get smart with me, young lady.”
“Do you mean old maid, Mom? Isn’t that what you’re implying?” Actually, she said it straight out. According to her mother, Ronnie’s youth was behind her. And if Ronnie didn’t marry soon, she would end up old and lonely.
A better alternative than being young and dependent on a man for anything – or worse, everything. The sordid thoughts always lingering on the outskirts of her conscious mind edged forward. She shoved them back, slammed them into a basement, and locked the door.
Ronnie stared at her computer monitor, breathing slowly to keep her temper in check.
Her mother sighed. “Your sister is eight years younger than you and she’s married the love of her life. At least tell me you’re looking for him.”
Ronnie resisted the urge to say, “I can tell you right where he is,” and spill her brother-in-law’s current location. The pitch of her mother’s voice warned her the sarcasm wouldn’t be tolerated.
“Not everyone needs a man to be complete.” If Ronnie ever did, she would never admit it to her mother – or anyone else. Men couldn’t be trusted. It was better to stand on your own two feet than to be let down by someone with a Y chromosome.
“Everyone needs love, Veronica. What did I do to make you hate me?”
Did her mother forget the string of men she’d married, dated and lived with after Ronnie’s father left them?
“Everything isn’t about you, Mom.” Ronnie hardly remembered the man who sired her and her brother. She wished she could forget her mother’s next husband, the man her brother considered to be his “real” father. Ronnie shuddered at the thought of that low-life.
Her mother gasped. “I’m worried about your happiness, your future.”
Ronnie remembered the day her future happiness was snatched away. By her mother’s husband. A man who died a hero’s death—caught inside when the building collapsed. Full firefighter honors bestowed upon him at the funeral. It was more than he deserved. Not that Ronnie’s opinion in the matter counted. No one knew her secret about the heroic fireman. And if she had her way, no one ever would.
“I’m happy. I love my job and my independent life.” And she did.
“At least tell me you’ve been dating.”
That’s when salvation came from an unlikely place. An ad in the sidebar screamed, “Sick of finding a date for all those family functions?” Ronnie nodded her head, beyond disgusted at the prospect of showing up dateless to another wedding.
“We have the answer.” At this point, Ronnie believed hiring an actor to play the part might be a viable solution. “Try Virtual Match today and get the connection without the commitment. Only $24.95 per month.”
“I have a meeting,” Ronnie said, highlighting the URL and emailing it to her personal inbox.
“I’m not getting any younger. I want to see you happily married before I die.”
Ronnie gritted her teeth. Everything was about her mother. Because my lack of a boyfriend is ruining her quality of life.
“Bye, Mom.” She clicked the disconnect button before her mother could toss in a parting barb.
The woman could be harder to shake than a telemarketer.
~*~
Virtual Match would be the perfect boyfriend. Ronnie sipped unsweetened iced tea while ty
ping out the lengthy scenario of her first meeting with her ultimate match. As much as she traveled for her job, it made perfect sense that she could be “seeing” someone from a different city. Someone who traveled as much as she did.
A smile curved her lips when she reread the anecdote. Would anyone believe she’d met a guy named Bond? She’d named her virtual love interest Michael Bond. He loved his job as much as she loved hers, but sadly, he lived in rainy Seattle. Close enough to Oakland that they could have shared a flight to Amsterdam when she said they met, but too far to be available for family gatherings.
It couldn’t be more perfect.
She triple-checked the boxes on the membership form provided on the Virtual Match website. “Triple-secured. Your information is safer with us than locked in Fort Knox.”
After combing the Internet, she found a photograph of the perfect Michael Bond—a cross between the dark-haired goodness of Gerard Butler and the tanned tone of Bradley Cooper. Two hours spent on this project? Not a total waste. After all this, even her snobbish Aunt Virginia wouldn’t find fault with the gorgeousness of her computer-generated perma-date.
Once everything looked flawless, Ronnie uploaded it, finger hovering over the mouse button before she clicked submit. No chance she would hit the send button until everything read as smoothly as her quarterly report—speaking of which, the thing was due at the end of next month.
Did she really want a stranger pretending to be her boyfriend? Better than the alternative: an actual flesh-and-blood man. She clicked the button, nodding at the ease of it, and slid her mouse pointer over to her Google Docs folders. Another click opened the prospectus she should have been working on.
Now that she had her love life under control, she could focus on work.
Chapter Two
The next morning, Ronnie hustled into the downtown office building. She nodded to the computer geek from the sixth floor, who held the door before shuffling against the back wall of the elevator. As if she might bite him. Another man stood in the corner, eyes affixed to the screen of his tablet.
The elevator doors whispered closed. No time to waste. After all those hours spent creating the perfect boyfriend and setting up her online profile, she wanted to check her personal email before work. If anyone from her family tried to call her an old maid, she planned to play the Michael Bond card, provided her account had been set up. Shouldn’t she get a message from this guy if everything was functioning properly?
A few taps and her email folder popped up on her smart phone’s screen. The elevator stopped. Third floor. A man and a woman boarded, exchanging “good mornings” with her. Ronnie scooched further back. Spicy aftershave tickled her nose. Warmth along her spine reminded her of the nerd’s presence.
She tuned out the conversation of the new arrivals, wrinkling her nose at the flowery scent the woman wore. The confirmation email had arrived. She scanned the brief missive from Virtual Match headquarters. The corners of her lips twitched into a smile.
This would probably be the most agreeable relationship of her life. No sense admitting it might also be the only one.
Another ding and the elevator doors slid open. Sixth floor.
“Excuse me.” The deep voice near her ear catapulted her heart into her throat.
A quick glance offered her a great view of Mr. Geek’s black-rimmed glasses. She sidled away until her back rested against the chilly metal wall.
“Have a good day,” he said. His size twelve loafers tripped over the non-existent edge separating the elevator from the tiled floor beyond.
Ronnie shook her head. The doors shut. Halfway to the twelfth floor. Time to forget about the make-believe boyfriend and mentally prepare for the office instead.
Her thumb dimmed the screen on her phone. She dropped it into the exterior pocket of the messenger-style computer briefcase slung across her chest. She flicked a stray auburn hair off her chocolate brown blazer. Precisely why that mass of hair was twisted into a neat chignon.
Two phone meetings glinted over the horizon of her morning. Thoughts of strategizing with consultants in Europe eclipsed her personal problems. Just the way she liked it.
As she strode into her small office, Todd Dexter appeared behind her. Stalking her again? His greasy brown hair was tousled in a parody of 80s punk rockers. His beady eyes flicked to her neckline, which she knew offered him nothing of note.
“These reports are a priority,” he said, extending his pasty hand toward her. When her fingers brushed his clammy palm, she tried not to shiver. She snatched the thumb drive he offered.
“Got it.”
Ronnie settled her bag into her bottom drawer, back to the door. When she glanced up, he stood there, leering at her, licking his thin lips.
“If there’s nothing else, I’m busy.”
He cleared his throat and straightened the paisley tie hanging over his lanky chest. Seriously overdressed for a personal assistant to a VP. His cheeks flushed, but he backed out of her office.
Now she could concentrate on work.
~*~
A battle raged in the back of Marcus Jordan’s mind for most of the morning. Nothing that kept him from scanning lines of code and checking his latest computer network design. After all, Veronica Shay, hottest women in the building, always hovered on the edge of his thoughts.
Man, how he dreamed of dating her. His stupid vocal cords froze every time she nailed him with those stunning hazel eyes. As much as he wanted to meet her, hacking a start-up called Virtual Match might be going too far.
While he scarfed down a sandwich and chips, he found his way past their encryption. He hadn’t done anything like this since his sophomore year in college. And he’d rather drink anti-freeze than recall his short-lived term as a fraternity pledge. His chips and sandwich played foosball in his gut at the hint of recollection.
He sucked air, staring at the computer screen. What made him so certain Veronica was different than the girls who participated in the fraternity scheme and every other humiliation of his life? She was beautiful. And smarter than all the others combined. If overheard conversations could be trusted, her co-workers either admired her or despised her ambition. Every one of them knew her confidence and work ethic were at the root of her success.
Which is why she would never notice him. But for some reason, she wanted to hire this company to be her invisible boyfriend. The program she’d subscribed to required daily communication by text and email and allowed for one gift per week to be delivered to her place of employment.
If she wanted a secret admirer, she didn’t have to pay a monthly fee. He was happy to do it. The chips tumbled together in his clenching stomach. A swallow of soda and the fizz handled the problem.
The problem of illegally hacking into a secured account wasn’t as easily justified. If he did it, at some point she would find out. Or maybe not if things went smoothly. He would be using the fake profile she created anyway, right? How would she ever know he wasn’t an employee of the company?
While his conscience battled with his lovesick loneliness, Marcus surfed the company’s site and read several articles about Virtual Match in business magazines. It was barely out of the beta testing stage. No one there needed to know about his ploy. He doubted they even had a security team overseeing the possibility of a security breach.
Marcus stared at the watercolor of a lake hanging on his wall, let his imagination float across the sea of possibilities. What if she directed a real smile at him? The polite greeting she gave him when they rode the elevator every morning would pale in comparison. His throat dried when he thought of holding her hand or kissing her pursed lips.
The woman needed a boyfriend or she wouldn’t be signing up with Virtual Match. Why not him? Someone as beautiful and confident as she was should have men knocking down her door. He wanted to stand in that line. But in real life, he was less than invisible.
With fifteen minutes of his lunch break remaining, Marcus succumbed to temptation. He gleaned th
e pertinent information from her account, adding her as a contact in his phone’s database. The last step was making the program believe she’d been assigned to one of their employees. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get past the checks installed on that portion of the site.
If two men started texting her, the plan would fail. Once again, he would be left on the sidelines while someone else got the girl. The idea of having an actual conversation with her pushed him beyond reasonableness.
In the end, he cancelled her Virtual Match account. As long as everything between them proceeded according to policy, she had no reason to check online again. If he got lucky, they would fall in love long before she noticed her credit card wasn’t being billed every month.
A few more clicks and Marcus was back inside Quark Technologies’ secured system doing what he was paid to do.
The palpitations in his chest made concentration difficult.
~*~
In her apartment after another long day, Ronnie stretched out on her leather sofa, laptop perched on the portable lap table over her perfect child-bearing (thanks, Mom, for that memorable description) hips. She sipped vitamin water from her Nalgene bottle, her other hand manipulating the mouse. Her phone chimed.
Settling the water bottle on its coaster, she lifted the smart phone from the walnut end table. She glared at it, hoping it wasn’t bringing an extended interruption to the work she planned for the evening.
A text from an unknown number. Let’s introduce ourselves.
The virtual boyfriend finally showed his face. She’d been expecting an email with specific parameters, but her personal inbox had been sadly lacking anything from Virtual Match. She added the number to her contacts list. Let him sweat it out. Two could play at the “make them wait” game.
With nimble fingers, she responded. You’re Michael Bond. And you’re late.
