Ms. Match

Excerpt

“Two rooms, please.”

“I’m sorry, sir. All we have available is a single room.”

Paul looked at Gwen. Then back at the reservation clerk. “We’ll take it.”

“Wait a minute.” Gwen pulled Paul back a bit from the desk. “We can’t sleep together…”

“Don’t worry,” he said, smiling before she had a chance to protest further. “You can have the bed.

I’ll take the chair.”

“Uh…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be a perfect, uh…”

“Gentleman?”

He pointed at her. “Yes.”

Gwen wasn’t worried – not about Paul, at least. She was tired from all the drinks and dancing. And she lacked a toothbrush. But before Paul got the key, the nice reservation man handed him two baskets filled with all kinds of necessities. Everything they’d need to get through the night…

Including two shiny condom packets.

Jo Leigh has written more than forty novels since 1994. A triple RITA® Award finalist, she has contributed to many series, most recently Mills & Boon® Blaze®. Jo loves that she can write mysteries, suspense and comedies all under the Blaze banner, especially because the heart of each and every book is the love story.

Jo lives in Utah where she’s hard at work on her next book. You can chat with her at her website, www.joleigh. com, and don’t forget to check out her daily blog!

Available in February 2010

from Mills & Boon® Blaze®

BLAZE 2-IN-1

Fast, Furious and Forbidden

by Alison Kent

&

Hard To Resist by Samantha Hunter

Ready For Action by Karen Foley

Ms. Match By Jo Leigh

Ms. Match

by

Jo Leigh

MILLS & BOON®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Ryan, who (thankfully) knows his sports.

And no, he won’t be allowed to read this book

till he’s forty.

Chapter 1

THE COFFEE SHOP was crowded as always just before seven, a long line of men and women dressed in what passed for business clothes in Beverly Hills snaking through the small round tables and out the door. Paul Bennet considered skipping his bagel and heading straight to the office, but he’d only had a couple of Dodger Dogs last night for dinner and he didn’t like feeling hungry as he started his day. Not that kind of hungry at least.

Today would be a busy one. There was a new client on board, a television production company specializing in home improvement shows. They’d signed on to his public relations firm after being wooed by at least five other companies. But he’d done the final presentation pitch himself, and it had been a killer.

He bumped the arm of a young woman who glared up at him with fire in her eyes. The fire dimmed when he offered her a smile.

“Excuse me,” she said, a slight blush coming to her cheeks.

“No problem.”

She continued on her way and he silently urged the line to speed up. He could wait and ask Tina, his secretary, to order in, but she wouldn’t arrive till nine.

He liked to be the first in the office. In the quiet, he made his overseas and East Coast calls, went through his e-mail, did most of his real work. Once nine rolled around his day turned into a schmooze-fest. He shouldn’t complain. It was what he did best, the reason Bennet, Inc. was a success.

This morning, however, his first call would be to one Autumn Christopher. She would be in her hotel by now, relaxing with a drink and enjoying the view of the Piazza di Spagna.

He pictured her in her red-hot flight attendant uniform, with her long, blond hair pinned up primly. Her lips would match, scarlet and moist, but there would be no trace on her glass due to some feminine magic. That was only one of the ways she made him crazy. Like her smoky eyes when they looked him over from the ground up. The sound of her laughter. The fact that no matter what he did, no matter how charming, how lavish, how certain he was that he was on the mark, she simply wouldn’t sleep with him.

The woman was no dummy.

He’d always been intrigued by the chase. Up to a point. Autumn had streaked past that point into territories hitherto unknown. Why then was he still after her? By now, hell, months ago, he should have kissed her off and pursued other opportunities. There was a world of women out there, and being in Los Angeles meant a world of extraordinarily beautiful women, so what was the deal?

Finally, he reached the counter. He pulled out his smile once more, registering, barely, the response of the girl behind the counter. She blushed, glanced down, shuffled from side to side.

“Hi, Carol. I’d like an onion bagel, light cream cheese. Coffee, black. And I’d be delighted if you could add a smile to that order.”

Despite the fact that he used the same silly line every time he got a bagel, Carol always reacted. Flushed, flustered and yet she always hustled for him, which was the ultimate goal. He didn’t care for standing in line.

Quicker than it should have been possible, she returned with his order. “I put the bagel on the heat when I saw you two down,” she said, her voice just loud enough for him to hear.

“That’s what I love about you, Carol,” he said, handing her a ten, which included a generous tip. “You’re a treasure.”

She sniffed and touched her hair. “Thanks, Mr. Bennet.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He was out of there in two minutes and into the building proper. He leased an entire floor of the high-rise. The lower floors were mostly concerned with banking, but the upper reaches had a number of offices that were unique to the area. Movie production companies, advertising firms that catered to the movie business, a casting office, two accounting firms that handled motion picture clients. It was showbiz all the way up here. His firm, for example, handled stars, film equipment firms, production companies, one of the smaller studios and three different commercial houses. They also had some sports clients, a few publishing companies and five, no six, authors.

He opened the doors to the front office, decorated to the nines by a leading Hollywood set designer. The artwork alone had cost him more than he’d earned his first two years in the business. The space smelled of the fresh flowers that were delivered weekly and that indescribable scent of money. Nothing about his business came cheap, which was the way he liked things.

He carried his bagel and coffee down the hall to his office. Here, on the twentieth floor, he was rewarded with a phenomenal view of the city. From Rodeo Drive to the Hollywood Hills, on a clear day it was the picture of fine living. Sadly, there weren’t all that many clear days.

He sat behind his desk and turned on his computer. As he ate, he scanned his e-mails. Several needed quick responses, but most of them could wait. He was careful about his response timing. His clients tended to get greedy if he jumped on their queries.

A few minutes later, fortified by his admittedly meager breakfast, he slipped on his Bluetooth and rang up Autumn’s cell phone. Three rings, then her lovely, soft, “Hello.”

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Paul,” she said, and in that single word, she said everything. She was glad to hear his voice, pleased he’d called her beautiful and a little too delighted that it had all been on her terms.

“How’s Rome?”

“Hot.”

“Poor thing.”

“It’s not so bad. There’s a pool in the hotel. I was about to get into my suit.”

“Suit? Isn’t that a bit of a stretch? That bikini of yours is no bigger than four Post-it notes.”

She laughed, and just as it always did, the sound made his dick twitch.

“I know exactly what you should do,” he said. “Use the video on your cell. Let me watch you strip.”

Autumn sighed. “I have to hand it to you, Paul. You don’t give up easily.”

“Damn right I don’t.”

“I like that. I do. But I need to change the subject.”

“Oh?”

“I have a favor to ask you.”

He hoped it involved lingerie and champagne. “Ask away.” He swung his chair around so he could view the city, the worker bees swarming to the hive. In New York, most everyone wore black. Dreary, even if the clothes themselves were daring. Not so in the City of Angels. It was warm today, and the colors on the people were as vibrant as the flowers lining Rodeo Drive.

“My parents are celebrating their fiftieth anniversary on Friday,” Autumn said. “Only I’m going to be here.”

“Okay,” he said, his attention back on the conversation.

“The thing is, my sister doesn’t have a date.”

“Your sister.”

“Uh-huh. Gwen. She says she doesn’t care about going solo, but I know it’s not true. I was wondering…”

“If she’s anything like you, I’d be honored to be her escort.”

Autumn laughed again. “No, not you. But you’ve got to know someone who wouldn’t mind.”

“Mind? Why would they mind?”

She sighed, one of those frustration deals complete with sound. “I don’t want to be mean or anything, but Gwen’s not exactly…She’s very smart.”

“Ah. She has a good personality.”

“Exactly.”

“How good?”

“She’s not a troll or anything, but, well, you know. On the plus side, people seem to think she’s interesting and funny.”

“Got it. Not a problem. I have just the guy in mind. What’s her number?”

“Don’t have him call. Tell him to show up at her apartment. I’ll let her know to expect him. Oh, and it’s formal.”

Autumn gave him the address and the rest of the details. He jotted it all down dutifully, even as he was busy counting the points he would earn for doing this little favor. He’d come through for her with shining colors. She’d have to say thanks. He could think of a hundred ways.

“You’re a sweetie pie, Paul. I mean it. The anniversary party is a big deal. Thank you.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You will. You were the first person I thought of to help out.”

“Good. That’s the way it should be.”

She laughed, and somehow he knew the conversation was over, that there would be no video message sent to his phone, no more teasing on the international call. That was how Autumn did things.

“I’ve got to go if I’m going to catch that swim.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Sunday.”

“Can’t wait,” he said, and he knew that any other woman would have melted to those words, but not her. Not Autumn.

FOUR-FORTY ON FRIDAY afternoon and the office was shifting down to first gear. Paul had finished his last call ten minutes ago, and was now jotting down notes for the week to follow. He was looking forward to the evening. He had his monthly poker game, something he relished. No women were involved, only beer, fine cigars and the kind of raucous bullshit that could only come from a bunch of guys who’d known each other since college.

When Sam Ensler stepped inside his office, Paul’s happy buzz died a quick death.

“Don’t do this to me, Sam.”

“You know I wouldn’t if I had a choice.”

“The party is tonight.”

Sam, his go-to man in charge of literary PR, seemed miserable. He always looked kind of miserable, hence his nickname of Eeyore, but even Paul could see this was serious.

“I’ve got to go to Michigan,” Sam said. “My mother broke her hip. She’s having surgery in the morning.”

“Shit.”

Sam nodded. “There’s no one else. She’s eighty-five.”

“I understand. Go take care of her. Take the time you need.”

“I’m really sorry, Paul.”

“No problem. What time was Gwen expecting you?”

“Seven.” He put a piece of paper on Paul’s desk. “That’s her address.”

“Got it,” he said, his mind already racing through his list of friends and even acquaintances who could step in. “Let me know how your mother’s doing, huh? And leave your cell on.”

Sam smiled grimly as he turned to leave.

The minute he was alone, Paul cursed, vehemently. He had no idea who he could get for this gig on such short notice. Woody? No, Woody was in New York. Maybe Jeff…Shit. Jeff wasn’t about to give up a Friday night to go out with an unattractive stranger. Who was he kidding? None of his friends would. Paul’s only hope had been finding someone who either worked for him or who owed him. That second group should have given him a number of options. Except that it was a Friday night and there was just no time.

Cursing again, Paul dialed Cary’s number. He got the voice mail, and left the message that he wouldn’t make it to poker. Then he checked out Gwen Christopher’s address. She lived in Pasadena. He’d have to get it in gear if he wanted to be on time. Thank God he always had at least one tux at the ready.

Autumn was going to owe him big-time.

HOLY SHIT. He was stunning.

Tall, unruly dark hair, stunning dark eyes, features that one would expect to see on the cover of GQ. He was one of the best-looking men Gwen Christopher had ever seen in person. Poor guy. He still hadn’t gotten into Autumn’s pants. It was the only reason Gwen could think of that a man who looked like him would agree to be her escort. “It’s not going to work.”

“Pardon me?”

She held the door open for him to come in. “Cinderella’s not going to sleep with you because you’re taking the ugly stepsister to the ball. She’ll still make you wait.”

The dazzling man blinked in charming confusion. “I’m not—”

She sighed as she closed the door. “I appreciate that you got all dressed up, so I’ll make it easy for you. I’ll tell Autumn you were perfect, a fabulous date. And I’ll even give you a tip. She won’t want you until you don’t want her. Then her legs will part like the Red Sea. The night’s young, and if you hurry, you can still make it to a premiere or whatever beautiful people normally do on a Friday night.”

“Hey, lady, I’m just here to see if you want a copy of the Watchtower.”

Gwen laughed out loud, amazed that someone Autumn knew actually had a sense of humor. “Very good. It’s Sam, isn’t it?”

“No, actually it’s Paul. Paul Bennet. I’m Sam’s pinch hitter. He had to leave town. His mother broke her hip.”

“Ah, well, then this really is your lucky night. Seriously, you don’t need to stay.”

“I didn’t need to come. But I’d still like to take you to the party.”

“Trust me. You don’t.”

Paul leaned back slightly and cocked his right brow, which made him even better looking. “Okay, so you really are Autumn’s sister.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stubborn.” He took a step toward her. “I haven’t got a single thing to do tonight. I’m dressed for the part. And I wouldn’t mind checking out the rest of the family.”

Wouldn’t her whole clan just die when she walked in with Paul Bennet on her arm? It wouldn’t last—a heartbeat after the shock wore off they’d all figure out that he was a mercy date. Still, it would be fun to see Faith with her perfect little mouth agape. “I’ve given you the secret to getting Autumn into bed. Don’t you believe me?”

“I prefer to reach my own conclusions. What do you say then?”

“I say you’re nuts.”

“That’s probably true. On the other hand, I was promised an open bar and a great buffet.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. Honestly, there’s not enough booze in the world to make this a delightful evening.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

She looked at him, taken aback once more at how damn gorgeous he was. It was ridiculous, really. No one person should be allowed all that beauty. But then, beauty wasn’t fair at all, was it? There was no doubt in her mind that she should put a stop to this madness right now. The whole situation was ludicrous. Could she actually be considering going to the party with this Adonis?

“Good, it’s settled. Get your bag, Gwen. Let’s go have some fun.”

Even as she shook her head, she walked over to the dining-room table to pick up her purse. And when he held out his arm for her, she took it. It didn’t surprise her that he had a shiny black Mercedes. But it did surprise her that she felt a little shiver in her tummy as he helped her inside.

PAUL SETTLED THE CAR onto the freeway and stole a glance at his companion. Autumn had exaggerated her sister’s unattractiveness. She wasn’t in Autumn’s league, no, but she wasn’t hideous, not by a long shot. Gwen was what he would consider plain. Nondescript eyes, a nose that could benefit from a good cosmetic surgeon, a too-broad jaw. Her body was nice, although bigger than most of his women friends. She carried herself confidently and put herself together well. But frankly, if he’d seen her at a party he’d have walked by without a second glance. It wasn’t noble. Then again, he’d never claimed to be a paragon of virtue. He liked beautiful things. Cars, clothes, women. It wasn’t a crime.

“So how do you know her?” Gwen asked.

“I met Autumn at a party for one of my author clients.”

“Autumn knows an author? Autumn knows how to read?”

“I don’t believe she knew him,” he said, choosing to ignore the dig. “She was there as someone’s guest.”

“You can understand my confusion. She’s not exactly a charter member of the book of the month club.”

He smiled, thinking Gwen was right. “She has other charms.”

“Yes, I suppose she does.”

“You two aren’t close?”

“No. Her circles and mine seldom intersect.”

“So tell me about your circles.”

She turned a bit to look at him and he felt as if he should have brought his college diploma to show her. “I’m a headhunter for Rockland-Stewart. Mostly scientific positions.”

“Really? I’ve used a headhunter once or twice.”

“For…?”

“Public relations. Primarily in the entertainment field.”

She nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Why?”

She went back to staring at the road. “You seem the entertainment industry type.”

“Do I hear a note of disdain?”

“No, I’m sure it’s fascinating work.”

“Actually, it is.”

“Why PR?”

“Why not? I’m good at it.”

“That, I’m sure of. You were quite smooth stepping into this awkward position.”

“So you would have preferred the original arrangement? Sam is a pretty interesting guy.”

Gwen sighed. “I’m being horrible, I’m sorry. My sister believes she’s doing me a favor, setting me up like this. I’ve told her at least a dozen times, if I wanted a date, I’d bring a date.”

“You like going stag? Even to something like this?” Paul got over to the right lane, ready for the interchange. The party was at the Marriott in Burbank. It wasn’t a long trip from her place in Pasadena, not by L. A. standards.

“It depends.”

“On?”

She gave him a look that he couldn’t make out as most of her face was in shadow. “My sister and most of my family don’t have a clue about my life. Just as I don’t have much of a clue about theirs. It’s just easier to go to family gatherings alone.”

“I see.”

“There’s a chance you’ll enjoy yourself, though,” she said. “It’ll be packed. Aside from all my parents’ friends, there’s my incredibly gigantic family. You know there are eight of us kids. Five of them are married and Faith is engaged. That’s not counting their children.”

“Whoa. I had no idea.”

“All of them are more like Autumn than me. It was a joke my whole life that my mother had an affair with the postman.”

“Unique is good.”

“And there’s the PR maven at work.”

Despite the fact that Gwen was right, he wasn’t liking this. Not even a little. Come on, he was doing a favor here. A rather large one. She could at least be gracious about it.

“I’m sorry. There I go again. It’s nothing personal, I assure you,” Gwen said.

“No problem.”

“It is. You’re doing a nice thing, even if your motivation is less than pure.”

“Okay, I’m not a saint, but I still think we could make the best of it. If it will make you more comfortable, I can drop you off and arrange for a car to take you home when you’re ready.”

That seemed to startle her. She looked his way, although since he was exiting the freeway, he couldn’t spare her much of a glance. It wasn’t until they were at the first stoplight that she answered.

“I’ll leave that to you. Have yourself a drink and something to eat. Leave when you feel like it. And you don’t have to worry about a car home. I can take care of that, myself.”

“Fine. Let’s see how it goes.”

Even though he couldn’t really see her, he felt her relax. His own shoulders loosened, as well. Now that he had a tidy out, he figured if he played his cards right, he might still be able to make his poker game. He smiled as he turned into the Marriott driveway.

Chapter 2

THE MOMENT the elevator door opened, Gwen heard a swing orchestra and knew her parents were in their version of heaven. They were both in their early seventies, but they still loved a great bash. That’s why, in Gwen’s solitary opinion, they’d had so many kids. They lived for an audience and a big dance floor. In their day they had been extraordinary dancers, winners of all kinds of prizes. When they got into the groove, they could outlast a lot of younger couples.

Gwen glanced at Paul as they made their way to the grand ballroom. He wore his tuxedo the way some men wear Levi’s, as if it was the first thing he’d grab in the event of a fire.

Everything about him was the kind of slick you had to look for. So subtle that the signs of effort could easily be missed. His nails had been buffed, though not excessively so. His hair was perfectly mussed as if he’d just rolled out of a movie bed. Not a real bed, because that would be too risky, plus there was the whole eye-gunk and bad breath thing to deal with. No, Paul looked like a big-screen leading man.

Seconds before they reached the entrance, Gwen thought about stepping closer to him, making sure her family and their friends would know that he was with her. The thought brought a wry grin to her face which she hoped Paul didn’t see, or wouldn’t know how to interpret.

She kept the same distance from him as they rounded the door, then felt his open palm on the small of her back.

Startled, she looked up at him. He smiled and gave her a wink, which would have been delightful if the underlying reason for his attention hadn’t been pity. Despite those momentary urges to thumb her nose at her family, this was not the way she wanted to play. The game itself made her ashamed of her entire brood, and herself. She stepped away, dislodging his hand and any notion he might have harbored that she needed rescuing.

Paul took the rejection in stride, his seductive smile not faltering. It occurred to Gwen that the seduction was all part of his package. His personal autosetting. Seduce and conquer. Of course he was successful. He’d been born for his work.

“Gwen?”

She slowed at the sound of her sister’s voice. Faith. Six years older than Gwen, Faith was a buyer for Neiman Marcus. Her fiancé, Bret, standing at her side, was also a buyer. The two of them were a match made in heaven. Between them, they almost had a whole brain. “Yes, Faith, it’s me. Gwen.”