Page 15 of Matched with the Hollywood Heartthrob (Matched for Love #4)

JACK

T he moment she walks through the back door, I know.

It’s like I can smell her before I even see her.

I swear, her scent hits me first, that subtle mix of lavender and something else I can’t quite place.

I stop what I’m doing immediately, my brush frozen mid-air.

I turn toward her, instinctively covering up the canvas with my body, even though I’m not sure why I feel like I need to hide it.

Seeing her, all the walls I’ve built come crashing down.

For every day she doesn’t stop by, I tell myself I’m happy.

First, it means we don’t have to talk about my fake dates.

Secondly, it means I don’t have to worry about my strange reaction to her presence.

In all this time, I built my resistance. Or so I thought…

I thought not seeing her for a whole week would make my reaction to her fade, that maybe some time apart would lessen whatever this is between us. But as soon as I see her, I realize it’s only grown stronger. My heart pounds harder, my chest tightens, and every nerve in my body is on high alert.

She’s standing there, her expression unreadable, but something in her eyes makes me want to say the wrong thing so I can see that fire in her again.

Mia steps closer, her gaze dropping to the canvas, her curiosity piqued. “Can I see your work?” she asks, her voice soft but steady.

I turn the canvas away quickly, my hand brushing the corner protectively. “I don’t like people seeing it until it’s done,” I mutter, suddenly defensive. The words come out sharper than I mean them to, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

She doesn’t seem offended, though. Instead, she looks at me with that same steady gaze, not backing down.

“Okay.”

My heart softens. “What do you want?”

I can’t focus on anything but the way she’s standing there, the way her lips move when she speaks, the way her eyes shine with that unspoken challenge. It’s like she has a magnetic pull, and no matter how much I try to look away, I’m stuck.

Mia saunters over to me. “The list is complete.”

“What list?” Her sheer presence distracts me, and it’s hard to follow her words.

“The list of compatible women for you.”

None of that matters. Whoever the women are, I’m not the least bit interested in them, not with the woman standing in front of me.

“I think you should run them by Nova first.”

Mia smirks, already one step ahead. “I’ve sent the list to Nova. She’s confirmed and sent them NDAs. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Um…”

“They’ll keep this process confidential.”

“Okay…”

I don’t know what’s with me today. Maybe it’s the melancholic mood I’m in or the fact that I’ve really been thinking about the mess I’ve made of my young life, but I’m so attuned to Mia in a new way.

She looks really pretty, her lips coated in a soft pink gloss.

I don’t know what comes over me, but at that moment, all I want is to kiss her.

Mia’s voice pulls me out of my haze when she taps me on the shoulder. I blink, my mind struggling to catch up. “Why are you so lost in thought?” she asks, her tone more curious than anything else. “What’s on your mind, Jack?”

Before I even realize what’s happening, the words slip out. “I was just thinking about kissing you.”

The silence that follows is thick. Her face freezes, and she stares at me like I’ve just said something absurd.

I instantly regret the words, but then something in her expression changes.

Her gaze snaps down to my lips and back up to my eyes in a split second and in that moment we lock gazes, heat spreads through me.

It’s there. Want. At this moment, she wants this as much as I do.

She may regret it later, but right now, she wants it. Is that a risk I’m willing to take?

And then, in that split second of vulnerability, I do it.

I step toward her, close enough that I can feel the heat from her body, and without thinking, I kiss her.

It’s messy at first, unsure, but then it deepens, the world narrowing down to just the feeling of her lips against mine.

The tension from the past week, from all the strange moments between us, all melt away, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I forget everything else.

Mia kisses me back with more vigor than any woman ever has. It’s like she wants me with the same intensity, and she’s not afraid to show it in this fragile moment.

We hear footsteps approaching, and Brody’s voice cuts through the moment, causing us to jump apart like thunder just split through us.

I pull back, immediately feeling like a fool for letting myself get carried away.

But Mia’s still standing there, her lips slightly swollen, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and something else I can’t quite name.

My reaction to this kiss scares me. It’s like I’ve never been kissed in my life. I want it to go on and on, and at the same time, I want to run away from Mia, scared of what she’ll do to me if I continue to stay.

“Both of you, come in for coffee. Dinner is almost ready.” The back door swings open, and Brody peeks out, his gaze narrowing on us. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” we chorus quickly. “We’re coming.”

Mia turns toward the house. She doesn’t look at me as she walks inside, but there’s something different now. The air between us has changed, and I can’t decide if it’s a good change… or a bad one.

I follow them inside, trying to act like nothing happened, even though everything feels different.

Mia sits at the kitchen table, pulling out the list of women she’s supposedly vetted for me.

She opens it, her fingers brushing over the paper before she looks up at me with a detached sort of professionalism.

“There are four women on the list,” she says, her voice calm, too calm. “Denise, Ashley, Mirta, and Hayley. They’re all pretty normal women with their own lives, but they’ve got a few things in common—interests in arts, gardening, and they all have vibrant personalities.”

I try to focus on her words, but my mind keeps going back to the kiss. I can’t seem to stop thinking about how she felt against me, how her body reacted when I kissed her.

“Denise is a painter, just like you,” she continues, her gaze never leaving the list. “I’ve already organized your first date. You’ll both attend the art exhibition next week in the next town.”

“What? Next week? That’s so soon.” I scratch my hair, confused about how she can actively plan my date with some other woman after she just kissed me so thoroughly.

“It’s not so soon; I want you on this date as soon as possible,” she answers. “I’m here to match you with someone who’ll make you happy. That’s it.”

She says it like it’s simple, but the words sting more than I expect. The kiss doesn’t even faze her. She just slides right back into professional mode, and I can’t decide if I’m relieved or frustrated by it.

Brody, ever the oblivious one, grins at Mia. “How about dinner, then?” he asks, completely unaware of the tension in the room.

Mia shakes her head quickly. “No, thanks,” she says, standing up. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll return your shirt later, Jack.”

I watch her go, feeling a sharp tug in my chest. I don’t want her to leave, not yet. But I don’t know how to fix whatever is between us now.

Brody watches her leave and then turns to me with a raised brow. “Did I do something to upset her?”

“No,” I say, but my voice is thick with something I don’t want to name.

“Sure? She seemed very eager to leave,” Brody said. “Even more so than usual.”

“Brody, I don’t know, okay?” I head to my room, my mind still reeling from the kiss, from the way Mia looked at me like she wasn’t sure what to do with me. She’s cold one second, warm the next—like she can’t make up her mind about me. And I get it. I’m not sure about me, either.

I barely have time to close the door before my phone rings. It’s Nova.

“Jack,” she says, her voice clipped, businesslike. “Did Mia tell you about the list of women she picked out for you?”

“Yeah,” I reply, sitting on the edge of the bed. “She gave me the rundown. I’m trying to summon interest in the date, but it’s harder than I thought.”

Nova doesn’t sound pleased. “Jack, you can’t mess this up. Denise is first on the list. She’s the most promising one. You need to charm her. Make sure she sees the real you.”

I lean back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I’ll try,” I mutter, not really believing my own words. The truth is, I’m not sure I’m ready for this. I’m not sure I want to be ready.

Nova sighs on the other end. “You will charm her, Jack. This isn’t a game. If you want this long-term relationship to work, you need to put the effort in.”

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the familiar frustration bubble up. “I’ll do my best. It’s not like I can force myself to care about something I don’t.”

There’s a pause, and then Nova softens just a little. “Are you okay, Jack?”

I hesitate, unsure how to answer that. “I’m fine,” I finally say, trying to push the thoughts of Mia, of the kiss, away. “I’ll try to be. I’ve been… painting, gardening.”

Nova doesn’t miss a beat. “Gardening? Really? That’s not exactly the Jack I know.” She laughs lightly, but it doesn’t quite reach me. “Well, if it helps you relax, then keep at it.”

I smile at the thought. Relaxing. Me? Sure, gardening and painting are a change of pace, but that doesn’t mean they’re solving anything.

“I’m making sure things run smoothly over here,” Nova continues, her tone shifting back to all business. “I’ve been in meetings with executives and producers all day. Everything’s moving along, so you don’t have to worry about the career side of things.”

I feel a pang of guilt, but I push it down. I know she’s right. I should focus on what’s ahead, not what’s behind me. But something about this whole situation with Mia is nagging at me.

“I won’t mess this up, Nova,” I say, trying to reassure her, even though I’m not sure I believe it myself.

Nova’s voice softens, but only a little. “You better not. For both your career and your personal life. Get it together, Jack.”

“Yeah, I will,” I say, though it feels more like a promise to her than to myself. We end the call, and I sit there in the quiet, my mind wandering back to Mia, the kiss, and the impossible task ahead of me.

How am I supposed to get through this without letting it all fall apart?

A s the days go on, every minute feels like it’s dragging me closer to that date with Denise. I tell myself I should be looking forward to it, that it’s part of the plan. But the closer it gets, the more I find myself dreading it.

I spend most of my time painting, staring at the canvas like I’m trying to drown out my thoughts. The brush feels natural in my hand, and the strokes are soothing, but they do nothing to stop the churn in my stomach.

I keep thinking about Mia. It’s frustrating, really.

She hasn’t reached out since that kiss, and hasn’t even texted or called to check in.

I figured she’d want to keep some distance, but I didn’t expect her to shut me out like this.

And maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I let the whole thing get too complicated too fast.

I thought it would be easy. I thought I could just go through the motions, date someone from the list, make it look good for the cameras, and then walk away unscathed.

But Mia… Mia’s different. There’s something about her I can’t shake.

The way she challenges me. The way she looks at me like she sees something I’m not sure I even understand myself.

I’m not sure if I’m thinking about her more because I’m nervous about the date with Denise or because something about that kiss—about Mia—has gotten under my skin in a way I didn’t expect.

I keep imagining what it would be like to kiss her again, to feel her lips on mine without all the tension and the awkwardness.

But no, that’s not the plan. I’ve got to stick to it. I can’t afford to lose focus now.

I dip my brush into the paint, the bristles moving instinctively across the canvas, but my mind is far from the work in front of me.

Whenever I think of Mia, I feel that familiar frustration bubble up.

The more I try to push it down, the more it rises.

What was it about her that made me act like a fool? Why can’t I get her out of my head?

I put the brush down, running a hand through my hair as I stare at the painting—it’s not even half finished. I’ve spent the last couple of days just working on it, hoping it would help me focus, but the only thing it’s really doing is keeping me from thinking about everything else.

I need to get a grip.

The clock on the wall ticks louder in the silence. I glance up at it, counting the days until the date. And still, all I can think about is her.