A Matchless Romance (Aisle Bound) (10 page)

As if Kate had passed an invisible microphone, Ashley circled closer and asked, “How’d you get into running?”

Drew relaxed a micrometer. This one was easy. Thanks to his coach, who’d rehearsed the answer with the whole teamon the flight across the Atlantic to prep for the barrage of media the moment they touched down in London.

“My dad’s in construction, but plays a bunch of sports around the neighborhood. Mom’s a tennis coach. They both spend every minute possible outside, and couldn’t understand a son who spent all his time on the computer.”

“I know the feeling. My parents didn’t understand my teenage addiction to fashion magazines,” said Milo.

Drew bet that wasn’t the only thing Milo’s parents didn’t get about their son. “Basically, my parents bribed me. They wanted me to do Little League. And Cub Scouts. And Pop Warner football. Not my thing. I wanted to go to summer science camp. So they agreed to send me, as long as I picked one sport to try.” He shrugged in preparation for the punch line. The media types at post-event interviews had lapped it up when he timed it right. “When you’re the class geek, it doesn’t hurt to be able to run fast.”

Sure enough, everyone laughed. Except for Tabitha. She just cocked her head and gave him another one of those unfathomable looks. What he wouldn’t give to figure out what thoughts raced underneath red hair she’d tweaked into curls for tonight. Curls that made him itch to run his fingers through. Suddenly hunger streaked through him. And not just for the sliders.

Drew sat down. Grabbed a handful of chips. It wasn’t so hard, this not-thinking gambit. He’d play along. Let them dress him up and confound him with questions. It was all fair game—as long as it meant he’d get Tabitha alone at the end of the night.

* * *

“I’m almost tempted not to take your money for this job,” Tabitha said as she smoothed the plastic over the suit they’d talked him into buying. Once he stepped out in the well-cut, black pinstripes and everyone’s jaw dropped to the ground in drooling admiration, Drew had come around to the idea of a suit rather quickly. She considered it the apex of the entire night. When he wore it for his New York interviews, women would simply melt. God knows she had.

“You’re not. Game Domain’s paying now, remember?” His voice floated through the slats of the dressing room.

Thank goodness. It hadn’t been at all comfortable lusting after him while he signed the metaphorical and actual checks. Not that she’d been able to stop. “The point is it feels so good to be oh-so-right. I almost feel guilty about getting paid on top of it.”

“Right about what?”

“My take on immersion therapy. It worked. It worked and then some.” After a few obviously panicked moments at the beginning, something had changed. Drew stopped thinking so hard. Talked to her friends as easily as he talked to her. Teased Milo like a little brother. And yes, made one or two questionable jokes, but overall, he seemed far more comfortable. Comfortable enough to flirt back as Kate threw herself at him. Which only bothered Tabitha a little. Riiiiiight.

“Where’s my T-shirt?” asked Drew.

Tabitha looked down at the bulging bag at her feet. “Tara packed it away. She said she didn’t want you retreating into your comfort zone like a turtle pulling back into its shell.” Feet sore, she sat on the overstuffed, overly swooshy tan divan and pulled off her boots. Wriggled all of her toes with a sigh.

“So I’m supposed to walk down the Magnificent Mile half-naked?”

That thought pulled another, longer sigh out of Tabitha. If only. She could probably sell tickets to that event. Pictured his medals nestled in the dark strip of hair down his sternum and practically fell over. “Of course not. Tara left a shirt in there for you. The blue polo.”

“That makes me look like a freaking golfer,” he grumbled.

Uh oh. He’d started thinking too much again. Well, not on her watch. After embarrassing the heck out of him, the constant barrage of compliments seemed to have cheered Drew as the night wore on. Tabitha had no problem distracting him with another.

“If more golfers looked like you, the sport would have cheerleaders and mascots.” Tabitha stretched out full length and bit back a yawn. The constant effort of trying not to be jealous of her friends flirting with her handsome client had worn her out. “Seriously, Drew, this was a great night. A huge success. Go on, tell me I’m brilliant.”

He padded across the beige carpet in bare feet. Amazing how intimately naked a man could look in a polo shirt, jeans and bare feet. Drew knelt by the side of the divan. Took her hand in his and dropped a soft kiss dead center between her wrist and the oval opal ring on her middle finger.

“I’d rather tell you that you’re beautiful. Every time I look at you, it’s like a sucker punch straight to my dick. But I’ll also admit that your mind’s as stacked as your body. So yeah, you’re brilliant.”

Tabitha gaped. She knew it because she felt the air cut across her tongue as she dragged in a surprised breath. Sure, they’d kissed. And she’d gotten no sleep for two nights replaying the kiss. Trying to figure out what it meant and what to do next. But she hadn’t expected Drew to so boldly move things forward. Not the man who believed so strongly—and so wrongly—that he was invisible to women. Unless….he didn’t mean it. Unless the straight-A student wanted to be sure he took home a gold star for the night. She tossed her hair back and sat up a little straighter.

“That’s quite a compliment. But much like earlier, wholly unnecessary. I saw how well you loosened up. How well you interacted with Ashley and Tara and Kate. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“Don’t I?” He rubbed a finger lightly across her palm. That barest of touches sent erotic lightning bolts through her body. “I think I do. First, I had to prove that I could handle your friends. Now, I’d like to prove how well I can handle you.”

Part of Tabitha wanted to strip off her clothes right then and there. Offer herself up to him on a silver platter. But the other part of her still couldn’t quite believe the transformation. Didn’t trust the validity of this new, alpha version of Drew. Even though it was the man she’d seen inside him all along.

“I thought you were only this sure of yourself on a track or behind a computer,” she tried to joke. Instead, it came out squeaky and breathy. Because he was still doing that stroking thing on her hand and it made Tabitha want to simply writhe.

“That’s all you’ve seen. Doesn’t mean that’s all there is. I’m sure of myself, most comfortable doing things I’m good at. And let me assure you, Tabitha, I excel at sex.”

His oddly blunt delivery might turn off other women. But for Tabitha, his cocky honesty was one heck of a turn-on. Just like every single little thing she discovered about Drew. “Prove it,” she said recklessly.

Next thing she knew, Drew was draped half on top of her. One hand cradled her scalp. The other pulled at her back, lifting her off the round cushion and into his body. And his mouth—well, it took hers. No sweet, gentle exploration. His tongue ravaged hers, delving into every nook and cranny with long, sweeping licks that brought every inch of her body to a state of need and want within moments.

Tabitha moaned. She wanted to lift her arms in the air and scream in joy at Drew’s deft, skillful and slaking kisses. Instead, she grabbed the hem of the polo shirt Tara had so carefully chosen and roughly pushed it out of the way. Because she needed skin. Needed to touch him. Feel the heat of him searing her fingers as though he was feverish. Revel in knowing that she’d created that fire in him.

With a muttered oath, Drew ripped the shirt over his head. And immediately dove back down to bury his lips at her neck. Sucking, licking, nipping with just enough teeth to send shivers cascading through Tabitha. It was almost enough to distract her from her quest to feel him. To run her hands up and down over the obvious muscles all over his amazing athlete’s body. To feel his back—his lats, maybe?—ripple with each motion. She’d never felt anything sexier.

“I need more of you,” he growled. “I need to see you.” Drew raised himself up enough to pluck at her sweater. It didn’t take him long to discover the whole thing was held in place with two thin bows. In fact, when he did discover it, his eyebrows shot to his scalp.

Then, with a wicked grin full of promise, he bent his head. Grabbed one end of the bow with his teeth and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, tugged. The whole time he kept those blue eyes locked on her. Eyes that passion had darkened from denim to darkest midnight. Eyes in which Tabitha would happily drown. When he repeated the move on the second bow, he used one finger to trace a lazy path from the notch of her collarbone down to her now uncovered navel. Tabitha’s mouth went dry. Other, lower parts of her anatomy went wet.

Drew pushed aside the edges of her sweater with a low hum of approval. She felt his gaze rake over her as strongly as if he’d used his hands. God, why wouldn’t he use his hands? Why did he just stare in silence when she wanted him so much?

“Lose your place?”

“You take my breath away, Tabitha.” Reverence replaced the urgency in his touch as he traced along the scalloped edge of her lacy grey bra. “I can’t say it enough—or in enough ways. You’re so beautiful.”

“So don’t say anything. Show me.”

Drew paused, his palm hovering directly over her tight, aching nipple. “What about Ashley?”

Tabitha looked over her shoulder at the closed door to the men’s department. “She’s on a Skype appointment showing the fall line to an ex-pat client in China. It’ll be at least an hour before she comes back. The store’s closed for the night.” Knowing it was akin to pushing the ignition button on a rocket, she continued. “It’s just you and me.”

“That’s all I need.” Drew stood, shucked his jeans in a blink, then pulled her jeans off before Tabitha could blink again. It was as if he’d read her mind. She didn’t want to go slow. Couldn’t. He whipped out his wallet. Retrieved a white foil packet that gave her a double take.

She grabbed it out of his hand. “Are those the five interlocking rings from a certain international games printed on a condom wrapper?”

“Yep. They handed these out by the handful at the Athletes’ Village. I’ve got enough to last a year.” Drew grinned. “Or maybe just enough to last through a really, really amazing month with you.” He flicked open her bra and covered her nipple with his warm, wet mouth.

On a gasp, Tabitha arched her back. And clamped her fingers around his upper arms. “You strike me as a project-oriented, goal-based guy. Aim high.”

“Oh, I know right where I’m aiming.” With unerring precision, his left hand found her center through her sopping-wet panties. Circled a light, teasing line up. Down. Then his thumb landed with the delicacy of a butterfly on the knot of nerves at the top that had her dropping her leg to the floor to grant him better access.

He lifted his mouth. Shot her another wicked grin. “Like that, do you? Then you’ll love this.” As he settled his mouth on her other breast with just the right amount of suction, Drew nudged past the seam to insert one long, thick finger deep inside her. Curved it just enough to touch a spot entirely new to Tabitha. One that did make her let out a strangled scream of equal parts lust and frustration.

“Drew, please. I can’t take much more.”

“I think you’re wrong. I think you can take whatever I give you.” But he reared back to shuck his boxer briefs and slide her panties down her legs.

Tabitha ripped open the condom. “Here, let me.” She guided it over the length of his erection. Hard. Did she mention long? ’Cause she certainly did a double take when looking at it. The handsome man had muscles for days, and now, a perfect penis? Well, not yet. It wouldn’t be perfect until it was inside her. Fueling the fire he’d already built to impossible heights.

Grasping her ankle, Drew lifted her right leg. Hooked it behind the ornate wooden knot on the backrest of the divan. Wrapped his hands around her wrists and pinned them to the arm rest above her head. Took her mouth, and in one glorious stroke, filled her.

Tabitha bucked up to meet him. She couldn’t get close enough. Wanted to touch him everywhere, and yet didn’t want to move at all. Didn’t want to do anything to change the sensations melting her body from the inside out. So she curled the toes of her left foot into the carpet and matched him. Stroke for stroke. Pant for moan. Their hips lifted and fell in a rhythm that grew faster every minute. The heat between them grew exponentially.

She opened her eyes to discover Drew staring at her. Open and unguarded. Full of need, yes, but also tenderness. A sweet sizzle that amped her up even higher. Unable to resist, she wrenched away from his kiss and smiled up at him. Drew smiled back. And she broke apart into a million pieces of joy.

The four cups of coffee required to combat three sleepless might be the explanation behind the tremor in Tabitha’s hand. Or it could be a combination of nerves and the difficulty in climbing down the stairs to A Fine Romance in her spikiest and highest stilettos. Because when she felt blue or insecure, Tabitha dressed to impress. So she’d pulled a bold, black and white geometric print dress out, paired it with a tight blazer and black patent leather pumps. Might as well look good on her last day. Go out with a fashionable bang.

“Tabby, look who’s back!” Milo lifted a steaming mug of coffee in a toast to Mira, on a stool behind the checkout counter. She glowed with vacation tan—and probably the afterglow of vacation sex, come to think of it. The loose, pink peasant shirt looked like a souvenir from her week in a private villa on a Caribbean island.

But this was no time for pleasantries. Chatting about the awesomeness of Mira’s trip might derail Tabitha from the inner resolve she’d so carefully built up, brick by emotional brick, in order to do the right thing. “Here.” She handed her boss a folded sheet of letterhead.

“What’s this?” asked Mira with an expectant smile.

“My resignation.”

“Like hell it is,” the brunette snapped back. Without looking, she ripped it in half and dropped it into the wicker wastebasket. Then she took Tabitha’s hand and sat her on as tool by the small kitchen. “Forget whatever planned speech you worked up. Tell me what’s really wrong.”

Milo perched on a stool as well. Took Tabitha’s other hand as if to anchor her in place. The problem with working with your friends was that you couldn’t bullshit them. Tabitha blinked twice, fast, hoping to stem the tide of wholly unprofessional tears that threatened to burst out any second.

“I screwed up. I’ve become…involved with Drew.” Yeah.
Involved
was a nice umbrella term for naked and sweaty and crushing like crazy on him. On the guy who, just like Tabitha herself, had disappointed his parents and forged his own path in life. She was wild about the sweet man who planned to hand over all his money to save his grandmother. And was fan girl nuts about the genius who designed her favorite video game. Tabitha had a raging, feverish case of I-want-Drew-it is.

“And?”

Wasn’t that enough? Tabitha really didn’t want to have to give a play-by-play of Drew’s toe-curling moves. It was enough they’d replayed in her mind on an endless loop since the moment he left her Friday night.

“It crosses a line for me to get involved with a client from A Matchless Romance.” A line made completely invisible by Drew’s first kiss. But a line, nonetheless, that she’d sworn never to cross. Never to mirror her mother’s line of work even the faintest bit. Never to give anyone reason to wonder if she was crossing that ethical line. So she’d been drowning in regret and shame pretty much from the moment she’d pulled her panties back on in that dressing room.

“But he’s not. Not really.” Milo tugged at the thick lapels of his lime green cardigan. “Drew didn’t come to you for help finding a date. You were more of a life-coach.”

“His company’s paying me for my services.” Tabitha couldn’t look Mira in the eye. Didn’t want to see the inevitable disappointment cloud her blue eyes. Instead, she stared at the circle of cheese wedges in the display case. Wondered if she should just cave right now and buy a couple hunks for dinner. Dinner for one. Let the pity party begin. “That makes him a client in my book.”

“I don’t care whether he hired you to find him a date or shine his shoes or train his parrot to sing “The Star Spangled Banner.” It doesn’t matter,” Mira said with a tone of finality.

Surprised, Tabitha popped her head up. “Of course it does. We’re a brand new business. One that’s struggling like crazy to make a mark. Heck, just to survive. A Matchless Romance can’t afford the slightest hint of impropriety.”

“It doesn’t matter, and here’s why.” Mira hooked her feet onto the rungs of the stool, then propped her elbows on her knees. “Love happens.”

“I didn’t say I was in love,” Tabitha screeched. She stood up, her stool grating loudly against the floor. Milo’s quick hands were all that kept it from toppling over. Why would Mira even think that? Geez, it wasn’t like Tabitha was waving around their used condom like a trophy. The fact that Drew had pounded her into a state of utter, orgasmic bliss didn’t mean she’d fallen head over heels for him. Not necessarily. Not that Mira could prove, anyway.

“You just tried to quit your job. People don’t do that over a simple hook-up,” Milo pointed out.

“Milo, why don’t you run next door and get Tabitha a cherry fritter.” With a pointed glare, Mira all but pushed him through the connecting door to the bakery. Then she shut it behind him. Sat Tabitha back down with a gentle push on her shoulders.

“He’s right. You might not be ready to call it love—and probably shouldn’t after little more than a week—but even a blind monk could see there are sparks between you two. An intrinsic tugging toward each other. You wouldn’t try to quit if he was just a warm body to help you split dessert.”

Geez. Tabitha didn’t need to be hit over the head with facts of which she was already intimately aware. So she tried to evade the issue with humor. “I’d quit wanting to hang out with him if Drew made me split dessert. Don’t ever send a questing spoon toward my dessert.”

“So noted.” Mira sat back down. Crossed her long legs clad in brown leather lace-up boots over cream skinny jeans. “I know your background is a sensitive subject for you. But no one’s accusing you of impropriety, are they?”

Philip’s cutting words, that the act of matchmaking made Tabitha no better than her brothel-owning mother, had sunk their ugly pincers deep into her psyche. Yes, she knew there were differences. Big moral and legal differences, despite Philip trying to lump it all together. Tabitha didn’t want to give up on matchmaking. But she’d tarnished her image here. Even if Drew technically wasn’t the one cutting her a check, it felt ethically squishy.

“Nobody important,” she said in a near whisper. Because Philip wasn’t. He was a bitter, mean-spirited man. A social-climbing snob, which was why she’d been ready to break up with him in the first place. Until he beat her to the punch once she refused to sleep with him. “But I don’t want to give anyone the chance. This business is new and fragile. I don’t want my stupidity to be what sinks it.”

“Love isn’t stupid. It’s inescapable. Irrefutable. Irritating,” Mira finished with a wry grin.

“Will you stop throwing around the L word, please?”

“Fine.” She tapped a finger to her lips, clearly thinking of how to speak her piece without annoying Tabitha further. “Those strong feelings of admiration and interest, lustiness and chemistry you have toward Drew are rare. Precious. Not to be ignored because of bad timing or even a far-from-perfect situation. They’re a gift. Maybe a complication, as well, but still a gift.”

So said the least objective person in the world. There should be a law preventing brides-to-be from commenting on other people’s relationships until after the wedding furor abated. “You’re getting married in October. There’s a strong chance your engagement bliss is coloring your world view right now.”

“Doesn’t make what I’m saying any less true.”

“It makes it less relevant. Especially since Drew hasn’t deigned to call me since….since we ratcheted things up a notch.” And didn’t that just sting worse than lemon juice on a paper cut. Knowing she shouldn’t be with him didn’t stop Tabitha from
wanting
to be wanted. No matter how contraindicatory that yearning might be.

Mira leaned back, crossed her arms with a wry grin. “Enough with the euphemisms. We can’t properly solve this problem with all the facts. So just tell me—did you have sex with Drew?”

Of course, that was the moment the door opened and Milo bopped back in. He set a plateladen with a sugar-crusted fritter in front of Tabitha. “Inquiring minds really, really want to know,” he added.

Guess they’d abandoned the business part of the discussion for the time being and had put their girlfriend hats back on. Since she now knew it wouldn’t affect her job, Tabitha didn’t mind sharing. And could frankly use a few shoulders on which to whine. “Yes.”

“That’s all we get?” Milo straddled a stool backward, leaning his forearms on the curlicued back. “Where are the salacious details? The how and when and how many times? Not to mention the how good.”

“Sorry we didn’t video ourselves for your amusement,” Tabitha countered. She tore off a corner from the fritter and popped in the sweet, cherry goodness.

“Dial it back, Milo,” ordered Mira with a laugh. “You can’t expect that level of oversharing unless there’s alcohol involved. And there’s no drinking in my store at nine-thirty on a Monday morning.” She ripped off a bite of fritter for herself. Looked up with a twinkle in her eye. “Obviously Drew was spectacular, or Tabitha wouldn’t be so worked up.”

No point denying it. “Mind-blowingly spectacular would be a more accurate description.”

Mira put a restraining hand on Milo’s arm, whose eager expression indicated he was about to launch into an updated version of the Spanish Inquisition. “Then what happened?” she asked calmly.

Tabitha’s heart raced as she remembered the shock of hearing Ashley’s voice coming down the hallway toward them. Until that moment, she hadn’t known it was possible to get dressed in seven seconds flat.

“We were interrupted. It was awkward and weird and Drew left. I haven’t heard from him since.” With the signature lack of restraint of a college freshman, Tabitha had even called her cell from the office phone this morning, just to be sure it still worked. Not one of her proudest moments. Definitely not something she’d ever admit.

“I think you’re assuming the worst.”

“Of course I am. Growing up a hundred feet from a brothel taught me that lots of men find reasons to leave once they’ve had sex. They’re usually one orgasm away from looking for the next prettier, younger, better woman.” Not that she’d be able to date him even if he had called. Because it was wrong, right? The little voice in her head insisting that, however, was growing fainter with each repetition.

“Now who’s got a skewed world view? Not all men cheat. Do you really believe that?”

More than a little. “No, not that they all cheat.” Because Tabitha did believe in true love. She’d seen it at Ben and Ivy’s wedding. In the tender way Mira’s fiancé looked at her from the bakery. In the faded letters from Vietnam her grandfather had penned her grandmother every week he was deployed.

“Good to hear. Otherwise I might have to rescind your invite to our wedding.”

“But I do believe that many men are ready to move on after sex. The thrill of the chase vanishes, and so does their interest. As a matchmaker, I do my best to be an extra layer of protection for people. To help them weed through the detritus and find their one perfect romance. But I’m not infallible. Love is tricky. Look at all the guys who cheat on movie stars and models. If they aren’t enough…everything…for a man, what chance do I have?” Wow. Tabitha couldn’t believe she’d just admitted that out loud. This thing with Drew really did have her frazzled.

Mira threw an arm around Tabitha’s shoulders in a loose hug. “Did you call him?”

“Of course not.”

“I’m dead serious, Tabitha. Both as your boss and your friend, I insist that you put aside the notion that you can’t date him. All that matters is how Drew makes you feel. Will you call him?”

“Of course not,” she repeated. That had about as much chance of happening as Tabitha getting asked to perform an acoustic version of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” at one of next year’s music award shows.

Milo couldn’t contain himself any longer. He threw his arms open, low and wide. His cardigan flapped open to reveal a pink and green striped tee. “Then why are you so shocked he didn’t call you? We live in an equal opportunity world nowadays. Women are astronauts. Rulers of nations. Instigators of second dates.”

“All those women are a million times braver than me.” Tabitha ran her fingers around the chain links of her battered silver bracelet. “I know it’s cowardly. Unfeminist of me. But I can’t put myself out there to possibly be rejected. Plus, it’s tradition. Everyone knows the guy makes all the first moves.”

“Even your somewhat-socially-inhibited client? The guy who had to research the expected social conventions of a wedding?” Milo’s disbelief came through loud and clear in his tone. The dramatically furrowed brow, well, that was just plain overkill in Tabitha’s estimation.

“Yes.” Then she reconsidered. “Maybe. But even if he doesn’t realize he’s
supposed
to call me, he should’ve
wanted
to call me by now.”

“Wow. You’ve really worked yourself into a lather.”

“I know.” Tabitha got up to pace. She didn’t normally pace. But she also didn’t normally have the pivotal week of her new job colliding with a man discarding her like week-old kitty litter. It was either scarf down the rest of the fritter—and go next door to get two more along with some cupcakes—or pace. Maybe Mira was right. Maybe it would be akin to turning her back on fate and a solid chance at happiness to brush Drew off.

On the other hand, the fact he hadn’t made an effort to reach out to her after their amazing lovemaking burbled like acid in her heart. Right on top of the roiling, panicked nausea Tabitha had about her looming event. No, damn it. Drew owed her a follow-up text, at the very least. Some indication that she wasn’t a notch on his bedpost. So she’d wait until he made a move. And try to smother any errant thoughts of him with constant work.

“I’m too busy prepping for the event tomorrow night to be this much of a basket case. I spent all weekend doing promo about the live video podcast we’re doing from the event. It’s different enough that I didn’t have any trouble lining up spots. Even people who didn’t bother to cover the opening of one more dating service are interested in the podcast. Three radio interviews, two basic cable, five blogs and even one mention in a good, old-fashioned newspaper. Hopefully a ton of people will watch it and word of mouth will spread from there.”