Finding Mr. Wrong

by A. m Madden

  “Breathe, sweetie. It’ll be fine.” Shelly placed her hand on my shoulder. “Drink this.”

  She handed me a glass of wine, which I downed in one smooth gulp. I introduced Shelly to my girls. Vanessa asked, “So, how hot are the guys, have you seen them?”

  We all looked at Shelly, waiting for her reply. “I have, and I can’t tell you. Don’t worry about anything. You’ll be just fine. They’ll love you.” Fine? I felt anything but fine. She told my friends she had seats reserved for them at her table and left us alone once again.

  Keep your eye on the prize. Keep your eye on the prize, played over and over in my head. Once my girls were done fussing over me, I looked myself over one more time and let out a small sigh of relief. The wine settled my nerves and now that everyone had stopped touching me, my blotchy skin returned to its natural pink hue.

  “Brae,” Cassie’s soft tone settled me a bit, “you’ve got this. Just be yourself and you’ll make the right decision. Who knows, maybe you’ll find your spark.”

  I patted my friend’s hand because she meant well. “You keep forgetting I’m not looking for a spark. I’ll pick the worst choice possible, and before you know it, Des will be handling my divorce a year from now.” She nodded at my words, but by the look in her eye, I could tell my friend didn’t agree with my assessment.

  Shelly popped her head back in through the door. “We need to get to our table. Brae, good luck. They should be calling you out in a few minutes. Do you have your questions?”

  I held up the blue note cards in my trembling hands. “Yes, I’m all set.”

  Before I knew it, I was escorted to the stage. Applause and whistles bellowed on the other side of the curtain. I heard a male announcer reviewing the rules I had studied as if there’d be a test on them. After he finished, the crowd silenced. That was the minute I knew things for me were going to change.

  A booming voice came over the speaker. “Please help me welcome our female Spark!”

  I stood stock still, frozen in place. After a deep breath, I smoothed the fabric of my black sheath dress and stepped on to the stage, praying I wouldn’t fall flat on my face. My legs shook with each step I took as I walked to my seat. An opaque white fabric wall separated me from the men. Even with the spotlight, I couldn’t see shadows or outlines of what could be on the other side.

  This was it. The ultimate blind date. I should have demanded more wine.

  The emcee asked if I was ready and all I could do was nod before he told me to take it away. More applause resounded, mimicking my heartbeat. I waved to the audience, placed my notecards on my lap, and gave the best smile I could.

  “Hi, Sparks.” I sounded ridiculous. “Let’s start, shall we?”

  I cleared my throat. “Spark number one, how would you describe your perfect first date?”

  “That’s easy,” Spark number one said on a masculine chuckle. “First of all, it’s a pleasure to meet you . . . kind of.” I thanked him before he continued. “We would go to her favorite restaurant, then to a movie. Of course, I’d bring flowers and would want to get to know her.”

  A very faint, but very audible groan came from behind the curtain. A seductive female voice said, “Now, now,” causing a few chuckles from the crowd.

  “Thank you, Spark number one, that sounds lovely.” If that were what I was looking for. I adjusted myself in my seat. “Spark number two, same question. Describe your perfect date.”

  “I’d ask you to come to my house so I could introduce you to my mother.” The audience laughed, but I wasn’t sure he was kidding. His nasal tone sounded serious. “Then I’d take you to meet my best friend, who owns the best comic book store in all of Manhattan.”

  “Thank you. Sounds interesting.” And there’s no way in hell I’d do that.

  “Spark number three. Same question.”

  “Maybe take her to my favorite restaurant,” a sexy European accent responded. I couldn’t pinpoint whether it was French, or maybe German. “Then back to my place to fuck,” he continued. I almost dropped the cards from my hands, and every male in the room cheered.

  His arrogance was practiced. This guy was trying to make up for something he lacked. “So, no flowers?”

  “I don’t need to bring gifts, you’d have me. But if you’d like something, I could bring a blindfold and cuffs.”

  The crowd gasped. I searched for my friends, and when my eyes caught sight of Vanessa, she was licking her lips while giving me a thumbs up.

  “That sounds like it would be fun for you.”

  “Trust me, you’d enjoy it.”

  “Okay, moving on. Spark number one, if I asked the last girl you were with to tell me one thing about you, what would she say? Just one.”

  Spark number one answered, “That I’m thoughtful.” Awww . . . he sounds sweet, which earned him another strike.

  “Spark number two, same question.”

  “That I’m smart.” Hmmm, boring.

  “And number three?” Couldn’t wait to hear that one.

  “That I have a big cock.” Of course he’d say that.

  All the men in the crowd guffawed and the women applauded. Why the hell were they clapping?

  “Number one, what was the last gift you gave a woman?”

  “A dozen roses.” His response caused an internal eye roll.

  “Number two?”

  “That’s easy. A photo album. It was my mom’s birthday last week and I made her a scrapbook.” I cleared my throat to camouflage my chuckle.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask, but number three? Same question.”

  “The best orgasm of her life.” I had no control over my thighs clenching together at his words.

  With each of his responses, the females in the crowd clapped harder, my friend Vanessa leading the enthusiasm. I could only imagine what he was doing behind the screen to elicit such a positive response for his crass answers.

  I waited for the noise to settle before I ignored him to continue. “Next question. Number one. Did you play sports in high school?”

  “I was the quarterback of the Varsity football team.”

  A foreign voice mumbled, “Of course you were,” and laughter erupted at his rudeness.

  “Number two?”

  “I was captain of the debate team.”

  “Is that a sport?” I asked with sarcasm.

  “Yes, it could be physically challenging.” The crowd laughed, but they seemed to be laughing at him rather than with him.

  “Number three? Did you play a sport?”

  “Nope. I couldn’t find a jockstrap big enough.”

  My spontaneous laugh erupted before I could stop it. “Let’s move along, and remember, number three, keep your description to yourself.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he quipped.

  “Starting with Spark number one, then two, and three following behind, what is your favorite meal?”

  Number one: “Lobster, champagne, and chocolate covered strawberries for dessert.” That was now strike number four.

  Number two: “Corn dogs. I’m not into anything fancy.”

  I giggled. “I’ve never had a corn dog.”

  “Food on a stick is my favorite. They’re quite delicious.”

  Ignoring his confirmation, I asked, “Number three?”

  “A can of Reddi Wip and pie.” This man’s voice and his responses set in motion Kegel exercises I hadn’t done in years.

  “Dare I ask what flavor?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I groaned out loud. “Moving on . . . again. I only have two more questions for you. Do you men play any instruments?”

  Number one said, “Guitar.” Hmmm, sexy. Number two said, “No.” Number three said, with pride, “Clitoris.”

  The place went nuts with laughter, clapping, and a few comments such as, “I can’t believe he said that,” and, “I bet he’s good at it too,” filtered up to where I sat on the stage. The emcee stepped in to quiet down the crowd.

  “L
adies and gentlemen, please. Okay, Female Spark, continue, if you would.”

  “Thank you, Chip.” I paused a moment, debating on giving him another chance. Wondering what he’d say prompted me to ask, “Number three, care to change your answer?”

  A few seconds of silence passed before he said, “Meh, I’m good.” What a prick.

  “Okay, last question. How would you propose?”

  Number one said, “A candlelit dinner followed by a carriage ride through Central Park. Number two proudly replied, “Hide her ring in a Cracker Jack box and take her to a Star Trek convention. I’d lead her to Dr. Spock, and with him looking on, I’d ask her to dig through the sweet treats to find the prize. Then, I’d drop to one knee and ask her to be my Klingon for life.”

  “Holy fuck. Dude, are you for real? You going to have your mom there too?” Number three chimed in with that sexy accent of his.

  Number two replied, “Oh yeah, mom would be there. She’s a huge Captain Kirk fan.”

  “Okay, thanks, guys,” I said before a fight broke out behind the screen. “I appreciate your responses.”

  “Sweetheart, you forgot someone.” That voice had my thighs pressing together again.

  “Fine, Spark number three, how would you propose?”

  “We’d fly to Vegas, you’d get my name tattooed on your ring finger, because I don’t do jewelry, and then Elvis would marry us.”

  “I didn’t ask about a wedding. I asked about a proposal.”

  “You wouldn’t have a choice, sweetheart. For me, it’s one in the same.”

  Holy shit. “So, I assume you’d have my name tattooed on your finger as well?”

  “No, definitely not.”

  “Why? You don’t do tattoos?”

  “I have seven of them.” With that, the crowd once again erupted in laughter and chatter. This guy was a real piece of work, and he just made my decision a no-brainer.

  Jude

  I sat confident, thinking there was no way this chick was going to pick me. The two tools next to me were deep in thought, preparing their one and only question. Meanwhile, my arm was slung over the back of the chair as I relaxed into the fabric, counting the minutes until this circus was over.

  Number one looked like he just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine and number two was a complete dork.

  The emcee stepped on stage. “Gentleman, you get one question to ask our female Spark. Remember, the same rules apply. You can not ask about looks, where she lives, or what she does for a living.”

  Tool number one asked, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  There was hesitation, but then her sexy voice said, “Yes, I do believe it could happen.”

  Of course she does. I glanced out and met Luca’s eyes. He mouthed, “Super hot.” I didn’t care if she was the next Heidi Klum, there was no way I wanted her picking me.

  Tool number two came up with a stellar question. “What are your thoughts about living with your in-laws until we can save enough to buy our own home?”

  Shit. This guy didn’t stand a chance, which now made mine fifty-fifty with Prince GQ. Part of me wanted to pay him off just so he’d shut the fuck up.

  She didn’t even hesitate to say she wouldn’t move in with his parents. No doubt this dude lived in the basement and got his rocks off to Captain America instead of Wonder Woman.

  Here we go. I pondered my question with careful consideration and almost changed it considering the other ones, but I went with it anyway. If for nothing else, I was curious. “What are your thoughts on putting out on the first date?”

  Her raspy voice exclaimed, “Not happening. I’m not that type of woman.”

  “You say that now. Maybe you should reserve that answer until we meet.” I stifled a chuckle and looked up, seeing Kyle and Luca cracking up.

  The emcee and his wife stepped center stage. “Wasn’t that fun?” The audience responded in-kind, and he grinned while nodding. “I have a feeling there’s a spark about to ignite. Are you all ready to hear who our female Spark has chosen?”

  Get the fuck on with it, I thought as everyone in the place clapped and cheered in excitement, including the idiots to my right.

  “Okay, Miss Spark, who do you choose to continue this journey with?”

  Everyone stopped breathing, including me, waiting for her response. She cleared her throat before saying, “First, I’d like to thank the three gentlemen for coming tonight, and to all those who applied to compete. After serious consideration, I feel my chances of finding love would be best with . . .”

  A long dramatic pause stretched for what seemed like hours, and my palms began to sweat waiting to hear her choice.

  “Spaaarrrrk nummmbbbberrrr ttthhhrrreeee,” filtered through the speakers, causing a hushed lull in the room.

  Wait, what did she say? She said three. She fucking said THREE!

  If her response had hands, one would be squeezing my heart while the other squeezed my balls. Chaos ensued in the club and my opponents sat stunned beside me with their mouths hanging open as I began to plot Kyle’s death.

  Chapter 4

  Brae

  Based on the reaction of the crowd, I picked the right one . . . which was wrong for me. They may as well have been cheering for a rock star with the way they carried on. Well, the women at least. The men all looked shocked for some reason.

  The photographers in the room captured every moment, including my panicked demeanor.

  When the hosts came to stand beside me, my heart pounded from nerves. They each hugged me while uttering words of encouragement. Meanwhile, I couldn’t calm myself down. If I thought the mini panic attack I had backstage was bad, that was nothing compared to what I felt now. My knees wobbled, my skin felt clammy, and I was pretty sure I would throw up if I opened my mouth to speak.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’d like to introduce you to our female Spark, Miss Brae Daniels!” I offered a wave and a closed mouth smile, on account of the bile in my throat still making it dangerous for me to speak.

  “Spark number one, please come meet Brae. Brae, this is Chad Heathrow.”

  A handsome man emerged from behind the screen. His sandy brown hair was neatly styled, his preppy outfit was impeccable, and his disappointed smile was genuine.

  This is good, Brae. You didn’t want him. He could be someone you could’ve fallen for, my conscience argued.

  He gave me an affectionate hug before walking off the stage without so much as a backward glance.

  “Spark number two is George Kroft.”

  The men in the crowd began chanting, “George! George! George!” When he emerged with a huge grin, his short arms were raised high like an Olympic athlete.

  George looked just as I imagined . . . to a T. I stood several inches taller than him, forcing his gaze up when he said, “Awww, dammit. Mom would have loved you,” while appraising me from head to toe.

  He shook my hand, his clammier than mine, and waved to the audience before heading backstage.

  “Okay, everyone. Here is the moment we have all been waiting for. Brae, it’s our pleasure to introduce you to your Spark, Mr. Jude Soren!”

  Jude. His name was Jude? Shit.

  I wasn’t sure what the delay was, but after a few long moments, he still hadn’t come around the divider. When the females jumped to their feet in a standing ovation, my eyes cut to Vanessa, who was betraying me by pumping her fist in the air while hooting. This man clearly made a fan of my friend. Cassie and Des both looked like they felt sorry for me.

  And then . . . he appeared.

  Fuck. Fuck . . . fuck . . . fuck! What did I do?

  A tall, lean, sexy as sin man emerged wearing a white button-down shirt and dark denim jeans that fit him like a glove. Chestnut brown hair with hints of golden highlights had that just fucked look going on. At least a day’s worth of scruff covered his sculpted square jaw, spreading upward to also frame the most perfect set of male lips I’d ever seen. He stalked toward me, a livid lo
ok on his face. If at all possible, that made him even hotter. No levity, no smile, just a pair of gorgeous eyes piercing a scorching hole right through my body.

  I was screwed—completely and utterly screwed.

  The host beamed, either choosing to ignore the fact that we were shooting daggers at each other, or he simply didn’t care.

  “Brae and Jude, please mark the beginning of this epic romance with a kiss.”

  That one command seemed to fuel his fire. He walked straight up to me, forcing me to take a step back. Stopping him with firm hands on his chest—his rock solid chest—I tilted up on my toes and pecked his lips.

  “Yeah, that won’t do,” he rumbled in that intriguing accent. Grabbing my ass with two hands, he pulled me hard into his body and crushed his lips against mine. At contact, my hands were now sandwiched between us. His tongue burrowed its way into my mouth without warning. If it could speak, it would say, “I’m here, deal with it.”

  His grip on my ass tightened as his other hand traveled up my back, under my hair, and around my neck. My knees buckled, and he must have felt my weight giving in because he moved a thigh between mine to hold me up. I was now straddling his leg while making out with this complete stranger who was all man. From his rock hard pecs beneath my touch, to the way he commanded my body to submit, to the scent of his cologne, all managed to cause me to forget where we were.

  The screams and shouts of the crowd should have snapped me back to reality, yet I couldn’t guarantee I’d stop him if he were to lay me down and fuck me right here on the stage. The more his tongue caressed mine, the more my brain refused to function. Simple motor skills like breathing, or even pushing him away, failed me, and it didn’t look like my brain was going to reboot any time soon.

  As I said, I was completely and utterly screwed.

  Once he allowed me to come up for air, his lips twisted into a cocky smirk. It was the type you wanted to slap, and the kind that made your panties damp. Nose to nose, I could now see the true color of his eyes were greenish-brown rimmed in gray. And they were the sexiest pair I’d ever seen.

  The hosts ushered us to a smaller room behind the stage, and Jude grabbed my hand, pulling me along like a puppy on a leash. Shelly, two guys I’d never seen before, and—thank God—my friends were in attendance. A tray of filled champagne flutes sat on a small table. As everyone entered the room, they each took one in passing. I purposely did not, not needing anything to muddle my already muddled thoughts.