Perfectly Matched: ...And the Rest of the Matchmaking Chef Books

by Maddie James

  “Never look away from me…”

  Nash.

  Her heart leapt and skidded to a stop against her breastbone.

  Slowly rising, tears falling, she met him halfway up the aisle.

  “I was afraid I was too late,” he whispered, tugging at a tendril of her hair. He looked at her then with such love in his eyes that Mary couldn’t help but shudder with hope.

  “How did you know…?” Then she realized.

  “Suzie,” they both said. No wonder she was frowning earlier.

  “I couldn’t go through with it.” Mary glanced down.

  He lifted her chin. “Don’t look away from me. Don’t ever stop looking into my eyes.”

  She sucked in a shaking breath. “I’m sorry Nash. I know you can’t promise anything. But I can’t help being in love with you.”

  Groaning, he pulled her into his chest. “You’re not listening to me.” His breath tickled her ear. “I love you. I don’t want another day to go by that you are not by my side.”

  She pulled away and connected again with his gaze. “But your music…”

  “Without you,” he said, “there is no music.”

  “And without music,” she returned, “there is no you. I love you, Nash Rhodes. Take me to that bus and make me yours. Then later, we will figure out a way to make this work, with the music.”

  He captured her lips in a kiss that was full of promise and love and a future. “Ah, my sweet, sweet Mary…” he whispered. “Think you can live in that bus for a while? Until this tour is over and we get our house built here in Legend?”

  Mary pulled back and looked into Nash’s eyes. “Nash Rhodes, are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Damned straight,” he replied.

  Smiling, Mary eased up into his embrace. “Well, I do have the dress…”

  Nash growled, picked her up and headed for the door. “I’m afraid we’ll have to get you another one because I’m about to rip that one off and have my way with you.”

  Giggling, Mary nibbled at his lips. “Only one thing I can say to that. Rip away.”

  Epilogue

  Suzie couldn’t help but observe the contrast in the two scenarios presenting themselves in front of the Methodist Church.

  A smug and satisfied feeling passed over her as Nash Rhodes, tall and wearing those tight wranglers and those ostrich skin boots and that tauntingly sexy black Resistol, strode down the concrete walk leading from the church while carrying his smiling and radiant Mary, and dragging the train of her wedding dress behind them.

  She also couldn’t help but smile. She did good work and she knew it.

  Perfect.

  No, perfectly matched.

  She was quite proud, if she did say so herself.

  As Nash disappeared with his bride into the bus, her gaze swung to the other scenario.

  She didn’t know the couple standing in front of the small cottage across the street, which was unusual since she knew just about everyone who lived in Legend. They were making enough of a ruckus, though, for half of Legend to get to know them pretty darned quick.

  Mad as heck, it seemed the woman was, about something. She strode toward a small red sports car parked in the drive, still giving the young man standing in the yard a piece of her mind. Suzie strained but found it difficult to hear over the engine of Nash’s bus.

  As it pulled away from the curb, she ambled toward her car, trying not to eavesdrop.

  Much.

  What she did hear, however, sounded a whole lot like this: “…a cold day in hell, Chris Marks, when I marry you…”

  The woman got in the car and drove away. Fast. Suzie lingered for only a moment as the man left standing by the drive hung his head and shuffled back toward the house.

  HOT CROSSED BUNS

  What’s a small town cop to do when the love of his life runs away when he pops the question?

  Wild Katie Long, she’ll never settle down. But Chris Marks has had his eye on her for a long time. When Chris hires Suzie to set him up with a romantic dinner for two, Suzie does all she can to set the mood. Thing is, Katie isn’t about to be wooed and she’s hotter than hot crossed buns when she figures out what Chris is up to. Then Suzie turns the tables by supplying Chris with a couple of items that just might tame Katie after all—handcuffs and a leather riding crop.

  Prologue

  Katie Long’s fingers trembled even though she had a death-grip on the steering wheel. Her white knuckles popped through the flush of her skin. She was hot from her cheeks down, heat shooting down to her fingertips. Her temper flared.

  Get it under control, Katie!

  Her sight blurred and she shook her head in an attempt to clear the glaze over her eyes. Not happening. With a quick gasp, she gunned the engine of her Mustang GT and whipped to the side of the road, gravel arcing behind her as she narrowly avoided the ditch of this back country highway.

  At least she’d gotten out of Legend before she totally lost it.

  Wouldn’t do to have anyone see her cry. To have him see her cry.

  The sonofabitch.

  Her hands shook, her heart jumping out of her chest, and her brain spun. Katie realized she was experiencing a slow, tortuous unraveling.

  She pressed the brake—much too hard—and jolted forward with the rapid stopping of the vehicle. At the same time, she let out ragged sob, and whacked her forehead on the steering wheel. She was tempted to bang her stupid brain against it.

  Repeatedly.

  Just in case repentance did come with beating one’s head up against something, she gave her forehead a good hit at the thing.

  “Ow. Dammit.”

  Then she let loose with a stream of sobs. Tears spilled over. Which was so, so unlike her.

  She was Katie Long! She didn’t cry.

  She was tough.

  Wild.

  Crazy.

  Left the boys and made them cry.

  Lifting her head, she leaned back against the headrest and at last switched off the engine.

  After a couple of moments of gulping back sobs and swiping at her runny nose and dripping eyes, she got enough courage to look at herself in the rearview mirror.

  “Oh, good Lord in Heaven.” Her face was splotched, shiny, and smudged in all the wrong places. Was that snot stringing back toward her ear? Gross.

  “Damn you, Chris Marks,” she whispered while rummaging for a napkin or used tissue or something in the glove box to wipe the mucous out of her hair. “That’ll teach you to ask me to marry you.”

  But after she found a tissue, and looked back into the mirror again, her head shook in disbelief and confusion.

  He asked her to marry him.

  Got down on one knee.

  Even had a ring.

  Goddamn him!

  Didn’t he know what everyone else in Legend knew? That wild Katie Long would never settle down? That she didn’t want the picket fence and two-point-five kids and the dog and mini-van?

  “Damn you, Chris Marks,” she sputtered again while dabbing at her face, “for going and doing the right thing.” She sniffed and stared at the reflection of her eyes. “When all I have ever been about was doing the wrong thing.”

  Chapter One

  Saturday morning at Sydney’s Sugar High Coffee Stop and Bakery

  Legend, Tennessee

  Chris Marks sat hunched over his coffee cup, letting the steamy aroma drift to his nostrils. He inhaled long and deep, taking in the dark roast blend he started every morning with at Sydney’s. The ripples in the hot beverage swirled as he stirred in another spoon of sugar.

  It was his second cup and he needed the high-octane java jolt this morning, complete with extra sugar. Having slept barely a wink for a couple of nights, he knew he would need all the help he could get today, to stay alert and coherent.

  Lifting the cup to his lips, he slammed back the remainder and set the over-sized mug on the table with a clatter.

  “Refill?”

  “Yup.”
r />   He glanced up at Sydney Schul with a grimace. She smiled wide and filled him right back up.

  “Long night?” she teased.

  “Might say.” He hunched over again and pulled his mug and the sugar bowl toward him.

  Sydney snickered. “Hm. Sorry you were up all night, Chris.” He ignored the emphasis on the word up. She sat the carafe on the table and glanced out over the street in front of the shop.

  “Next time tell Katie you need your sleep. Otherwise you are grumpy as hell in the morning.”

  “Hmpht.” He grimaced into the mug.

  “My, my,” she drawled, “trouble in River City?”

  “That’s none of your beeswax.” He sipped at the hot liquid.

  Sydney rambled on. “Hm. Well now, isn’t that Miss Katie over there as we speak? Heading toward the library?”

  Chris dropped his spoon on the table, sloshing a bit of coffee over the side of the cup, and jerked his head up toward the direction Sydney was looking.

  “Shit.”

  Picking up the coffee carafe, the bakery owner giggled and backed away, nodding at Officer Matt Branson heading toward the table. “Your coffee and Danish comin’ right up, Matt.”

  Chris sank a little lower in his seat as Matt slid into the booth. “Gotta love living in a small town,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket. “Not only does everyone know your name but they know what you want for breakfast.”

  “Hmpht,” Chris uttered, still staring out the window, “and your business, too.”

  “Sounds like a personal problem.”

  You got that right. Personal as hell.

  He heard the snap of a newspaper and figured Matt was reading the news, just like always. It was so stereotypical one almost had to laugh. Two of Legend’s finest from the local police force meeting for coffee and pastries while the whole of Legend drifted by on a Saturday morning outside the coffee shop window. Here they were, Barney and Andy, waiting for a reason to race to the cruiser out front, on the off chance they’d get to use their one bullet.

  Matt had been on the force several years. Chris was a relative newcomer to Legend. He’d craved small-town living all his life, having grown up in Chicago suburbia. While on a vacation with an old girlfriend in the Smokies, he’d discovered the charm of the town called Legend and all that came with it. The girlfriend didn’t understand and they broke up not long after he told her he landed himself a job and was moving south. He’d been here six months and loved every minute of it.

  This morning, however, his mind wasn’t on police business, or his job; his gaze still transfixed on the scene across the street. He wasn’t thinking about being cop-like. He was thinking about something else.

  Katie.

  His Katie. Dammit.

  Slim-hipped and wearing a red, knee-length pencil skirt, just tight enough to cup under her nicely rounded ass in the back, she exited her car. His heart picked up cadence thinking about that round ass. Under him. On top of him. His hands gripping and squeezing. And her equally full and round breasts laying heavy on his chest. Her waist-length brunette hair cascading over him while she rode him like…

  He wiped his brow. Shit.

  But he couldn’t drag his gaze away. She was bent over getting something out of the back seat of her shiny red Mustang GT—red was her favorite color—her backside swaying for the world to see.

  Or for him to see.

  The vixen.

  She knew he sat there every morning at this time getting his breakfast and drinking coffee with Matt. And she knew damned well that he liked to watch her. But why in hell, after the argument they’d had the other night, was she sashaying that tempting ass of hers in front of him like that?

  “Damn woman,” he muttered, bringing the mug back to his lips. “Like a spoiled little girl who needs a spanking.”

  Matt slapped the newspaper down on the table.

  Chris met his stare. “What?”

  “All right. Spit it out. What’s going on between you and Katie?”

  Giving his head a slow shake, Chris drew up one corner of his mouth. “Not a damn thing.”

  “There’s something.”

  “Nope. Nothing is going on between the two of us and that is the problem.”

  Matt leaned in. “She holding out?”

  “Not speaking.”

  “Doesn’t sound like Katie. What did you do?”

  Chris mumbled. “Something stupid.”

  Sydney returned with Matt’s Danish and black coffee and they silenced. She left as quickly. “Stupid?” Matt echoed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Jesus, Chris. What the hell did you do?” He sipped his coffee.

  Sidling his gaze back to Matt, he replied. “Asked her to marry me.”

  Matt spit coffee halfway across the table.

  “Shit!” Chris jerked back. “You damned near spewed all over my uniform.” He swiped at his pressed black shirt. “Costs me a buck-ninety-eight each to get my shirts cleaned and starched!”

  Concentrating on wiping minute droplets of coffee off his badge, he avoided looking at Matt, who was staring a hole right through him. Heat radiated from his cheeks and he was embarrassed.

  Yes, dammit, he had asked Katie to marry him. And she had flat out refused. Laughed and yelled at him. Pretty much told him it would be a cold day in hell…

  “Why in God’s name did you do that?”

  His gaze rose. “I love her.”

  Matt cleared his throat. “Now Chris, don’t get me wrong. You know I like Katie a whole helluva lot. But she’s a wild filly, as wild as they come, and you think you’re gonna tame her?”

  He lowered his head and fiddled with his napkin. “Was trying.”

  “And how did you propose to do that? Katie made no bones about it when you started dating that she wanted to remain footloose and fancy free. I told you—and I won’t say that I told you so—that you were getting into deep water. You’re pretty new in town and Katie, well, she has this reputation. Katie Long can’t be tamed. Better men than you have tried. She’s such a damn contradiction, librarian by day, temptress at night. That was my biggest fear, that you’d fall head over heels in love with her and she’d break your heart.

  “Dammit, I saw this coming.”

  Narrowing his gaze, Chris looked at his friend. “For a man who said he wouldn’t say, ‘I told you so’, you just did a damn good job of it.”

  Matt exhaled and looked away. They sat in silence for a moment. Looking back toward the library, Chris realized Katie was now gone. Shit. He’d missed her sway into the building.

  “I can tame her.”

  “Hm.”

  “No, really. I can.”

  Matt chuckled. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “So how do you propose to tame her?”

  “With the palm of my hand.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She likes to be spanked.”

  Silence.

  Chris angled his gaze toward Matt, whose left eyebrow now sported a significant arch.

  “You don’t say.”

  “I do say. Now, nothing real kinky and I would never hurt her—I don’t want to dominate her at all, not really into that lifestyle shit—but she seems to respond to a little hanky-spanky action in the bun area.”

  Matt rubbed his chin. “I never would have thought.”

  Grinning, Chris added, “and right about now, I’d like to lay my hand flat across those—”

  “Hot cross buns?”

  Startled at the female voice coming from his right, Chris looked first to Matt, and then to the woman standing beside them. Suzie Matthews, Sydney’s cousin and Matt’s sister-in-law, stood staring at both men while holding out a tray of some kind of rolls with a criss-cross of icing over the top.

  “What?”

  “Want to try my hot cross buns? It’s a new recipe and Sydney is going to give them a go here at Sugar High. I thought you might want a sample. Fresh out of t
he oven, they are. And hot.”

  Chris was definitely thinking about hot buns. And about crossing them with the palm of his hand. But what Suzie offered up at the moment wasn’t going to do.

  He rose. “No thanks, ma’am. Maybe another time. I’ve got some business to tend to.”

  He tipped his head, glanced at Matt, tossed a couple of bills on the table, and left.

  ****

  Things were slow this morning. Thank goodness.

  Katie stood behind the checkout desk, glanced out over the near-empty library, and decided that Saturday mornings weren’t what they used to be. Oh, they did have their traffic and busy times, but it was nothing like she wanted it to be. Used to be, moms and kids were coming in for story hour on Saturdays, but they canceled that a few months ago when the library board realized they were competing with Saturday morning soccer. Story time now happened on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and was targeted only for preschoolers.

  Also used to be that the old-timers came in to read the newspaper or catch up on gossip on the weekend. Now they head to Sugar High or Mocha Mae’s down the street for coffee and Internet surfing.

  Interesting sign of the times.

  It troubled her, this occasional lack of library business. She loved books. They were her life. A self-proclaimed bookaholic, she devoured most any book she could get her hands on. Not to mention, she was writing one herself. Had been since she graduated from college five years ago. No one knew that, of course. It was the one thing she kept to herself. That and her other dream. Oh, everyone in Legend thought she was perfectly happy coming back to Legend after college and taking over the librarian position, especially since it had stayed vacant for almost two years. And yes, she was very glad to get the job and start building back the library’s offerings, but this recent slump had her a little unnerved.

  She needed her job. At least for a while longer, until she got a handle on the next phase of her life. Her dream. Her goal.