MisMatch (A Humorous Contemporary Romance)

by Nana Malone

  Eli ground his teeth. Why did he have to feel this way about her? Why now, when Samson was just getting back into the swing of things. Why now? He didn’t have time for these kinds of complications.

  “You know, big brother, this is the part where you’re supposed to wear a shit-eating grin for a few hours then take your little brother out and tell him all the good parts.” Sam joined him on the bottom step. “Instead, you look like I shot your favorite puppy. Not the mangy one that used to follow you around all the time, but the chubby, adorable one Mom gave away because she said we had one too many dogs.”

  Eli huffed a mirthless chuckle. “Nothing happened. I sent her home untouched—mostly.”

  Sam rolled his eyes. “Dude, what is your damage? You’ve slept with her before. Clearly you’ve got a thing for her. Judging by the, erm, unreleased tension in your face, I’d say she has a thing for you too, but you’re deliberately denying yourself? What the fuck for? Because I’ve seen her—you don’t do that little packet of dynamite, someone else will. Shit, maybe even me.”

  Rage unfurled in Eli’s gut like wisps of smoky embers. Would Samson do that to him now? Could Samson do that to him now? When he’d been using, sure. Shit, when Sam was using, there was no limit on his depths of depravity.

  “Stay the fuck away from her, Samson.”

  Samson frowned, then shifted one imperceptible inch away from his brother. “E, man. I wouldn’t do that. I was kidding. You know. Running off at the mouth.”

  Exhausted, Eli let out a long breath. This wasn’t Sam’s fault. At least not directly. He’d been the one who’d chosen to keep lying to Jessica. He’d made that clear decision. And now he was paying for it. “She called me Samson.”

  Sam frowned and narrowed his eyes at his brother. “I don’t get it. So what? We do happen to look alike; you are wearing my impeccable clothes.” He eyed the jeans. “Where did you find those? I’ve been looking for them for months.”

  “In the closet.”

  “Guess I never thought to look there. Anyway, my point is, she thinks you’re me. It makes sense for her to call you Samson.”

  “Yeah, I know who she thinks I am.”

  Sam closed his eyes and nodded in understanding. “You’d rather she called out Elijah.”

  “Eli would do.”

  Sam snorted then scrubbed his face with his hands. “Look man, just tell her the truth. It’s fine; we’ll find me another manager. It doesn’t have to be her. End this shit right now. I don’t need to see you like this anymore.”

  The guilt stung Eli. Would he really sell out his brother for a woman he barely knew? “A, I’m pretty sure if I tell her I was pretending to be you she’ll skin me, and B, she’s the right one for your career. I’ve done my research on her. “

  “Then what now?”

  “Well, I made you a deal. I’ll help you with this till the opening. Then I’m telling her. We’re halfway there, and she loves your work. But I need to talk to her first.”

  ***

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why the hell had she gone over there without a chaperone? Jessica turned her Volkswagen Bug onto the 110 freeway and merged with the rest of the Angelinos heading south. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she tried to wipe the image of Samson’s sexy smile out of her head. He didn’t smile often, but when he did—whoo boy. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d done nothing but smile when he came to see her at the studio the other day. And he’d been chatty too. All charm. Today, he was tighter. More closed in, like a caged animal.

  And lord knew nothing appealed to her more than someone to corrupt. But he was an artist and thereby incorruptible. He’d probably corrupt her.

  Loud ringing on the dash snapped her attention back to the road. Izzy.

  She pushed the answer phone button on the dashboard. “What up, home skillet? How’s trix?”

  “Home skil—? You know what, never mind.” Izzy sounded confused, but that was the norm when Jess slipped into slang. “How did the meeting go? You didn’t kill him or anything, did you? Is there a body to move?”

  Jessica chuckled. “Nah, no body, though he totally riled me up and left me hanging.”

  “Explain riled you up. Did you two…erm.”

  Jessica sighed. She sure as hell wished they had. Maybe he was just one of those guys she had to get of her system. “No. Though not for lack of trying, I guess.”

  “Oh boy. I thought you were strictly in the no-go area with him?”

  “You’ve seen him. How the hell am I supposed to ignore him with that face and that body?”

  “You’ve got to be careful, honey. You’re the one who gave me the personal and professional rule. Though might I remind you, you encouraged me to break it with Jason. Just sayin’.”

  “I know. I know. For something like this, I just want it to be above board. He’s my first major client. I don’t want that getting all tangled. He’s super talented. I mean like scary talented.”

  ***

  An hour after Jessica arrived at the studio, she was back at work, resigned to finding ways to get rid of Samson as a client.

  A shadow danced over the photos Jessica inspected with a magnifying glass. She was sifting through the list of possibilities for Izzy’s next show. Once she selected her favorites, the two of them would haggle over which ones they would use. She didn’t look up. She’d known who it was the moment he’d walked into the room. Samson. The scent of sandalwood and musk enveloped her. The crackle of tension simmered between them.

  Her body was playing tricks on her, and she wasn’t in the mood. “Is there something I can do for you, Samson?”

  He cleared his throat. “How about I start with an apology?”

  She peered up at him through her blue wig. “Are you serious right now? You’re changing our Facebook status back to it’s complicated?”

  He smirked. “I—guess I’ve sort of complicated things.”

  Jessica stood, folding her arms across her breasts, wishing she hadn’t taken off her three-inch heels. She could have used the extra inches for added power. “Look, Samson, we both know this is a bad idea. Sometimes there’s this weird attraction that fucks with my mind at least. You, maybe not so much. But it will get in the way of us working together.”

  His eyes flared, and she studied him. He looked the same. Same towering height. Startling jade green eyes. Mussed, wavy hair that looked like he’d put some gel in to make it stick out a little. Same full lips that looked like they were made for kissing. But there was a tension around his mouth, like he was holding something back. She wanted to know what it was, but she needed a complication like she needed a hole in the head. Absently, she tongued her lip where her lip ring should be. Okay, like she needed another hole in the head.

  “Jess, I need you for my career. You’re already doing more for me than I had any right to hope.” The pain and yearning in his eyes almost broke her heart. Maybe he felt like his budding success was a fluke.

  He dropped the timber of his voice. “I can’t afford to lose that. The rest we can figure out. Do you feel the chemistry now?”

  Frowning, not sure of where he was going with this, she nodded. “Yeah.” Chuckling, she added, “You’re pretty as hell to look at, and that body, well, I won’t lie, it’s nice.”

  He smiled ruefully. “Figures. I don’t know what happened at the studio, but I think the best way for us to deal is to spend a little time together. Get to know each other. Decrease the heat with a little familiarity. It’ll all even out. I need you as my manager. The rest, we’ll keep nice and causal. Nothing serious to freak either one of us out.”

  She chewed on her lip as she thought. The burning compulsion to strip him down naked right this second made her fingers twitch. But he was also easy to be with. Still taciturn, but somehow open to her. She liked this Samson. It still wasn’t a good idea to mix business and pleasure though. “Samson, I still don’t think—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “C’mon, Jess. Be the risk taker I know
you are. Just say yes. And look, I promise I won’t lay a hand on you until you ask me to.”

  This was a colossally bad idea. Very, very bad. But then, no one had ever accused her of being careful. “Okay. We can try hanging out.”

  He frowned, then asked, “Could I ask you to do me one more favor?”

  “You know you’re pushing your luck now, right?”

  “It’s a small one.”

  “What is it?”

  “Could you call me Eli instead? It’s my, uh, middle name. Samson is the name that goes on the art, but it isn’t me.”

  Chapter 11

  Eli strolled into Vince’s office without knocking. “Hey, Vince, I think I have a lead on our forgers.”

  Vince dropped the file he was looking at onto his desk. “Now I know how you feel when I barge into your office. Not sure I like it.”

  Eli smirked. “This place is a dump.” There were stacks of papers everywhere and several empty coffee mugs. Not to mention one dead ficus plant by the window.

  “Whatever.” Vince plopped down in his seat, and the old, tattered roll-along squealed in protest. “Not all of us can have fancy digs, you know. Some of us actually work for a living.”

  Elis leaned against the door. “Someone’s cranky today.”

  “Yeah, and you'll hear all about it. But you go first. You almost look chipper.”

  “So, I was talking to Samson.”

  Vince's eyes brightened, then he interrupted. “You know, you still haven’t caught me up on that hot bad girl from the club, but I guess that can wait.”

  “Anyway, like I was saying, Samson said we need to check for areas where the paint is thicker, or look for some kind of consistent marking in the canvases. Something like a watermark or something. Maybe something sewn into the canvas as well.”

  “I don't get it. What are we looking for?”

  “Our signature. Remember how I was saying there has to be something to tie them all together? If it's not the actual crime, then it has to be the paintings. Now, as for the forgeries of the jewelry and sculptures pieces, I still don’t have anywhere to go on those.”

  Vince rubbed his jaw. “You want my techs to do the tests, or do you want to do them yourself?” When Eli just raised an eyebrow, Vince chuckled. “Yeah okay, I’ll have someone bring them from evidence to the lab so you can check them out.”

  “Okay, your turn. What's causing your personality change today?”

  “Nothing like overlooking something to bring the bear out to play.”

  “What did we miss?”

  “Not we, I. It's something I missed.”

  His partner might seem like a happy-go-lucky guy’s guy, but he was too conscientious to miss something by mistake. “What is it?”

  Vince whirled around and grabbed a stack of files off his desk. “This stack here is a list of open cases for the last six years or so. Basic con man stuff. The Romeo one—elderly fellow courts and scams poor rich widow. It’s that case I told you about. We’ve never able to catch the guy. He works with an accomplice. He moves to town, courts a string of women, usually keeping only two on his roster. The women learn about each other then start trying to one-up the other to try and keep him.”

  Eli snorted. “Are you serious?”

  Vince shrugged. “This guy has cars, boats, even a house or two. Then he mysteriously falls ill, his daughter tells the women he’s passed away. Once, there was even an actual funeral. Then, he and the supposed daughter move on to their next city. “

  “Let me guess, the daughter would act concerned about his estate, and the women would insist that she keep everything that had been given to her father.”

  “You guessed it. New York, Miami, DC, Palm Beach, Chicago, shoot, we even have Interpol working with us on a similar case in London.”

  “Okay, what does this have to do with our current case?”

  “We had a priceless Tomas Ekker reported as forged yesterday by Milton Insurance.”

  “I’ve heard of them. They tried to recruit me a few years ago.”

  “Yeah, well, they called because they'd heard about our Millionaire Doubles case.”

  Eli rubbed the back of his neck. “Let me guess, the fake Ekker is a damn near match for the real thing. Which the rich widow had authenticated at auction or something.”

  “Bingo.” Vince scrubbed his face.

  “Okay, someone conned the widow with a fake. We don’t know if it was our con man and his daughter.”

  “I thought the same thing, so then we started calling each of our other victims. Three out of our eleven cases reported forgeries to smaller insurance agencies. The other victims are checking. Want to bet money that they come up with forgeries, too?”

  “Holy fuck,” Eli muttered. “You think Romeo is giving our victims gifts of forged artwork?”

  “That’s right. I had local field offices fax over the last known images of our Lothario. He’s very careful. Always changing his appearance. But here it is.” Vince slid a photo across the desk to Eli.

  Eli studied it. White male, probably somewhere between fifty-eight and seventy. Fit. White hair, thinning on top, but still mostly all there. Shrewd eyes. Straight patrician nose. Handsome with an air of sophistication. Probably what made him an excellent con man. “Okay, I’ll work my black market contacts.”

  “We've got no actual photos of his accomplice.”

  “This will do for now. At least we have something to work with.”

  ***

  Jessica trailed a finger over the edge of her phone. Trying not to call Eli took effort. It wasn’t like she couldn’t just email him with the details. Her mother had decided she was speaking to her again—joy—and she had invited Samson to one of her artist salons, as she called it. Who had salons anymore? Honestly. Pretty much, her mother wanted to have a fancy party to show her friends that she knew some talented people. No doubt her idiotic boyfriend would be there.

  Jessica cracked her neck as she warded off her nerves. “Don’t be a moron. You’re not calling him for a date.” It was a work-related call, so why did she feel like she was asking him to the Sadie Hawkins dance?

  Jessica glared at her iPhone as she hit the send button. There was still time to rethink her decision. It hadn’t started to ring yet. Last chance for cowardice. Her thumb hovered over the end button, but she couldn’t press it. Instead, Eli’s clear baritone came over the airwaves.

  “Jessica? I was just thinking about you.”

  It was not a good idea to let his voice get to her. If she did, she’d be crawling back into bed for another go round with her B.O.B., and she’d already proven that, like the song, “ain’t nothing like the real thing, baby.”

  “Uh, hi, Eli.”

  A beat of silence. Okay. Awkward. She had no idea what to say, and he was taciturn enough to keep his mouth shut and force her to do all the talking.

  “So uh, I need to do this dinner thing at my mom’s. It’s a good way to network with other artists, and there will be some potential buyers there as well.”

  Another beat of silence. Eli’s voice pitched lower. “So, like a date.”

  Jessica swallowed hard. “No. Not like a date, exactly. More like a work thing for you. But I’ll be there, and we’ll be spending some time together to uh, let things with us fizzle out.” God, did that sound as awkward to him as it did to her? “Look, this thing between us is way intense, and I’m not used to acting like this with a guy. You make me—” she struggled for the right word. “Restless, and itchy, and I don’t know what to do about it, except go back for more rounds with my battery operated boyfriend, and frankly, since that first night, it’s just not cutting it, not even Mammoth, and I love Mammoth.”

  Eli’s voice was a low growl on the other end. “Fuck, Jessica, you can’t tell me shit like that. I’m already a hanging on by a thread, and I can’t work.”

  The business side of her brain kicked in. He still had to finish a painting for the exhibit. “Damn, Eli, this is what I was afr
aid of. Either of us getting in the way of what the other has to do.”

  Eli hesitated. “No, I know. I’m painting, of course. I just can’t focus on it.”

  “Oh, right,” she mumbled. Searching for a way to ease the conversation, she started in on the reason she called. “So dinner? I promise it’ll be informal and low key. Besides, she wants to actually meet the artist she’s heard so much about.”

  “Yeah, I’ll come.”

  “Wait, just like that?”

  “It’s pretty simple—I want to see you. Even if it is at your mother’s house. Doesn’t matter to me.”

  There it was, that frank honesty again. No games. Would she ever get used to this? “You are such a contradiction. The controlled artist. Effortlessly charming one second and brooding the next. And then just plain honest about what you’re thinking. It’s pretty addictive.”

  “Sassy,” his voice was smooth and silky. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  ***

  Eli shifted in his chair. Mia Stanton Waal Chambers Berber had managed to have him seated directly on her right. He was unaccustomed to being in the hot seat. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on the spot in front of a woman’s parents. College? Maybe. As a rule, nothing flustered him, but for some reason, sitting here next to Mia Stanton, he was starting to sweat.

  “So, Samson, your work is awe inspiring. The entire town is abuzz with your name,” Mia said.

  “It is? That’s news to me.”

  Jessica at least jumped in with a rescue attempt. “Mom, I’ve told you, Samson prefers to be called Eli. Samson is the public persona.”

  God, had she actually bought that lame excuse? He didn’t particularly care as long as it kept her from calling out his brother’s name when they were together.

  Mia’s gaze flitted between him and her daughter, with her eyes narrowing a millimeter. “I’m so glad that you and Jessica could work together and find the arrangement mutually beneficial.”

  Eli cleared his throat as the image of him and Jessica screwing on her front porch flashed in his memory. He quickly locked the memory away in a containment carrier in the back of his brain. He’d let it out later, when he had time to savor the dream. “Yes. She’s an extremely talented manager. She’s already taken the Samson brand and amplified it. I never would have been able to do that on my own.” That was the truth, at least.