Page 100 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

Sydney didn’t know why she was so nervous. It was just a dinner date with a new guy in town.

A guy she knew nothing about.

A guy whom Suzie claimed was a stalker.

A guy whom she, Sydney, felt was probably only interested in her because of the magazine article—and because of her scones.

It was a business meeting, really, and not a date. That’s what she told herself, anyway.

But she wanted it to be a date. Sort of. She’d broken up with Jimmy Chandler six months ago when it became obvious there was no future there. Jimmy was perfectly content fishing and hunting his days away, living in his quaint log cabin up in the mountains. Even though Jimmy was a dear, she knew there was no life together for the two of them. She’d be the go-getter and make all the plans. Earn the income. Take charge of their lives. He would simply follow along in her wake.

While all of that really wasn’t an issue with her—she liked being in charge—she just didn’t want that kind of relationship in a marriage. That’s why she’d turned down his proposal of marriage and decided the best thing to do was end the relationship romantically but remain friends.

She wanted a man to be her equal. Her sidekick. Someone who would go get ‘em same as she. That wasn’t Jimmy Chandler.

She wanted someone like Steve Gate.

Whoa. Why would she even think that? Well, Steve was certainly an enterprising person, she reasoned, tapping her fingers on her bedroom dresser and staring into the mirror. He seemed to go after what he wanted—but what was that really? What did he want and why was he here, in Harbor Falls, anyway? She studied her grimace and wondered why she was even grimacing. Nervous?

No. Anxious. Her tummy was twittering. Her stomach even ached a little.

He both intrigued and worried her. She was both interested in him romantically and a little wary at the same time. How could that be? She sure hoped she wasn’t taking on some of Suzie’s insecure views about the man. He sure did seem nice enough, though. Right?

But you couldn’t pin happiness on nice enough. That wasn’t smart at all. But could her happily-ever-after be with someone like Steve Gate?

Too early to tell. Of course.

But she liked him. A little.

Well, maybe a lot. But she had to get to know him better to really know. Right?

Hence, it was exciting to think about this evening as a date, even if it wasn’t. At least she’d have more to go on after this dinner.

“Business dinner,”

she reminded herself, as she smoothed her palms down her black slacks, adjusted the plum sweater on her shoulders, and peered at herself in the mirror one last time.

Jewelry. Check.

Lipstick. Check.

Eyeliner. Check.

No food stuck in teeth. Check.

She was ready.

The plan was for him to pick her up downstairs at the bakery at seven o’clock. She’d been ready and antsy since six-thirty. Now it was five minutes after seven and she wondered if Mr. Steve Gate had backed out—until a small, silver sports car pulled up to the curb and he popped out of the driver’s side and sauntered up to the bakery door.

She met him with a smile, and within a few minutes, he had whisked her into the car—a little Beemer roadster—and off they went.

Her palms were damp as a dishrag.

“You look very lovely this evening, Ms. Hart.”

Sydney smiled and glanced at his profile.

“Well thank you. And again, please call me Sydney.”

She perused him while he drove, her gaze drifting over his presence. He wore a nice pair of dark blue denims, a cream-colored button-down collar shirt, and a lightweight suit jacket. Then she added.

“You look very handsome yourself.”

He looked at her then.

“Well, thank you... And…and please, call me S-Steve.”

Sydney had to wonder if the man had a bit of a stutter sometimes. That was the second time he’d fumbled over saying his name.

Steve interrupted her thoughts.

“I’m really not all that familiar with dining places around here, so I...”

he said, glancing at her once and again while he drove.

“I’m sure we can find something,”

she blurted out.

“Well, I did go ahead and… I hope you don’t mind that...”

There he went again, she noted. Not completing sentences and fumbling over words. Maybe he was just as nervous as she? That was a little refreshing.

“There are not a lot of places in Harbor Falls,” he added.

She hadn’t thought about that. Harbor Falls was not the Mecca of dining out, to be certain.

“Oh, there are a few local hangouts. What kind of cuisine did you have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking some place quiet, where we could talk and such, so I…”

Sydney thought about that and mentally ticked through a list. There was the diner. No. Too noisy and homespun. Amie’s Place was good, but they only did breakfast and lunch, so that was out. The BBQ place over on Jacobs Street was always fun and the food was good. But no, that wouldn’t do, either. Most of the seating was outdoors and Sydney didn’t feel like an outdoor evening. The cafes over in Old Harbor Falls closed early in the evening too—but there were a couple of bars over there. Too many people—college students—and again, noise. There was Asheville but that was a two-hour drive and Sydney didn’t think...

“So, I instead of a restaurant dinner, I decided to pick up a carryout dinner and call it a picnic. I found a pleasant spot out by the lake with a gazebo and reserved it through the local parks department for the evening. Well, that is probably too much information for right now, but I thought a picnic would give us time to chat and get to know each other a little better and be alone.”

Alone? Like, in the mountains was really being alone. She had sort of counted on some people around her….

“To talk business, of course.”

She mimicked his words.

“Yes, business, of course.”

She really didn’t comprehend much he said after the word.

“carryout dinner”

came out of his mouth. Who in the world did he cater a dinner from? She hoped to hell and back it was not Suzie! But then if not her, who? Melinda Parker Jones? Horrors! She was Suzie’s direct competition in town, and a snotty little witch to boot. Sydney couldn’t eat a meal catered by her own cousin’s competition!

Could she?

Yet, she could dissect the meal, discern her style, recon the competition a bit… Maybe.

“She’s supposed to be a great cook, this Ms. Jones. Do you know her?”

“Huh?”

“The meal I catered for the picnic.”

“Picnic?”

Sydney blinked and tried to right her world again.

“Oh, yes, picnic. Mel Jones. Yes. Unfortunately, I do know her.”

“Unfortunately?”

They had obviously been driving for a bit because they were now in the mountains and driving away from civilization. Suddenly that ugly emotion of doubt reared its head again and Sydney found herself a little concerned—just a tad bit. She was going to be alone with him, in the mountains, away from people. Away from help, should she need help.

Why should she need help?

How harmful could Steve Gate really be? She quickly—like in one-point-two seconds—mentally ticked off a list of horrors in her head.

Rapist.

Serial killer.

Roadside strangler.

Human trafficking snatcher.

Drug dealer for a South American cartel.

Alien abductor from another universe seeking unattached women to take back to their extraterrestrial colony for breeding.

Argh! Sydney, stop it!

Mentally, she chastised herself. If she were that concerned about being with Mr. Steve Gate, then why did she accept his dinner invitation in the first place?

Get a grip, Sydney.

They rounded a curve, slowed, and pulled into the park. Suddenly it appeared they were at their destination. Steve parked his car and turned to look at her.

“So, you do know her?”

Sydney nodded.

“Food business, Steve. Everyone knows everyone.”

His eyes twinkled and she was suddenly drawn to the slight uptick of a smile to the right corner of his mouth.

“Yes. I know her.”

“And?”

“Her potato salad is horrid.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh? How so?”

“Too much mustard.”

What color were his eyes exactly, anyway? One day they looked brown. The other green. Today, with the late afternoon sun glinting into the window they looked…”

“I see.”

“Hazel.”

“What?”

His expression turned puzzle-y.

“Um.”

Sydney set up straighter in the passenger seat.

“Hazel…nuts. I just remembered I need to get hazelnuts for a new, um…”

His brow arched even higher.

“Scone recipe?”

What does it always come back to scones? They weren’t talking about scones, were they? No, they weren’t really talking at all, except about potato salad and Mel Jones. Of course, inside her head she was still battling rapists and aliens and kidnappers.

“Scone recipe. Sure, Steve. Yes. For the scones and not for the potato salad. Which is horrid. I mean, if Mel Jones made it because it’s too mustardy.”

Shit. She was blubbering.

“And hazelnuts in potato salad is, well, ick.”

Good lord he must thing her an idiot!

Steve chuckled then and grazed her cheek with a knuckle.

“You really are a gem.”

Gem? Who says that nowadays?

“No worries,”

he continued.

“I bought macaroni salad.”

Sydney exhaled and reeled a little from the touch of his knuckle to her face. His kiss of earlier today warmed her insides and she wondered where all of this was going.

“Oh. Okay. She’s halfway decent at that.”

“Only half?”

She nodded.

“Store bought relish.”

He pulled back in mocking disgust. “No.”

“Yes.”

“And when you make macaroni salad, you use homemade relish?”

She turned slightly, crossed her arms over her chest, and cocked her own brow.

“Of course. Don’t you? Made from last summer’s sweet pickles.”

She sat back and watched him. Could he counter that?

“You truly are a food critic, aren’t you?”

Sydney shook her head.

“Not really. I just hang around with Suzie too much. Besides, my specialty is scones. Pastries and other. I’m a baker. Suzie is the all-around chef. I’m a dabbler compared to her.”

He leaned in then, closer, and Sydney caught a whiff of his spicy aftershave.

“Oh, I think you are more than a dabbler in the pastry world, Ms. Sydney Hart. You, young lady, have skills.”

He grinned again and held the stare between them. Sydney almost felt he was looking her over. He had the same look on his face when he perused her scones—as if she were a powdered sugar confection sitting prettily in her glass pastry case. Then her gaze dropped to his mouth, where his tongue did a quick sweep of his lower lip.

At that, Sydney huffed out a pent-up breath. That little tongue dart over his lip had just about sent her insides into an erupting sexual quiver.

“Well now, we are here.”

She reached for the passenger side door handle.

“Shall we get out?”

Grasping the latch, she lifted it, and did just that.

****

Stone Kellerman wasn’t exactly certain when he’d been so enamored with any woman—or at what moment Ms. Sydney Hart had twisted his interest from romancing the scone recipe away from her, to romancing the lovely baker herself.

Sydney was a delight as much as she was an excellent pastry chef, and she was blushing which only endeared her to him more. That pink glow on her cheeks made him smile and he only wanted to get closer.

He exited his side of the car as well, grabbed the picnic basket from the back seat, and followed her toward the gazebo.

“Wait up, Sydney!”

She turned before taking her first step up into the gazebo. When she did, her long straw-colored hair fanned out around her shoulders and caught in the setting sun off to the west. The pink glow from the sunset only highlighted the heat on her cheeks and as Stone drew closer, all he wanted to do was kiss her again.

She watched him with each step he took, and his heart pounded. When he came up next to her, she tilted her head up—he stood a few inches taller that she did—and found he liked looking down into her eyes. In fact, a man could live an entire lifetime looking into them.

A lifetime?

He set the picnic basket on the step.

Heaving in a quick sigh, he moved into her space and placed his hands gently on her hips. Studying her face and gazing deeper into the depth of those blue orbs, he leaned in to steal a soft kiss.

Sydney stood there. Unmoving. His lips brushed hers and he softly toyed with their plumpness. She returned the kiss with a featherlike and hesitant response of her own, her open lips lightly toying with his.

The temptress!

He pulled back, broke the kiss, and looked into her face. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing more heavily now. At once, her lids fluttered open and she met his gaze.

They tangled there for several seconds, exchanging looks and probing stares. Then Sydney rushed in, her mouth firmly took his, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

****

Whatever came over her, she wasn’t certain. Visions of abduction and personal violation popped from her head and all she could focus on was Steve. And kissing Steve. And how warm his chest felt against hers. And how hot and tingly her own insides were getting as that sensual thrill raced down her back and settled inside her chest and began a deliberate journey lower.

Get a grip, Sydney! her brain screamed.

Slow down, echoed her heart.

Come on baby! shouted her libido.

But she ignored it all, mostly, and just kept kissing Steve Gate. His lips were soft like velvet but firm and satisfying to kiss. He stepped in closer and wrapped his arms tighter around her and she heard an involuntary moan escape from her own throat. A moan she had no control over because she was operating on autopilot at this moment, just feeling and experiencing this kiss. This kiss. Sigh….

He sighed along with her moan. The kiss deepened and she fiddled with the short hair at his neckline and decided that she liked being full-monty pressed against him while their lips aligned.

He liked her!

There was nothing wrong with this man, she was certain. Suzie was just wrong, and she would have to admit it. Steve Gate might have started hanging around because he liked her scones, but he certainly wouldn’t be standing here kissing her like this for any other reason than that he was interested in her and liked her.

Right?

Her brain rambled over her thought process and she angled her mouth differently over his and ran the tip of her tongue over his lower lip. Steve groaned then, lowered his arms to her waist, and pulled her in tighter to him.

Right.

He was attracted to her and she was to him. This wasn’t about baking or the food business at all. This was about two people. One man and one woman. And attraction. And chemistry. And maybe a little about falling in love.

Love?

No.

Not love yet. But like? She could let her brain agree to that.

Steve pulled away with an exhale and raised his hands to her face. He cradled her cheeks in her palms and gazed into her eyes. “My God,”

he whispered.

“You taste almost as good as your decadent orange delight scone.”

Sydney froze. What?

He leaned in for another kiss.

Sydney put her hands up between them and pushed slightly against his chest.

He angled away, a puzzled look on his face.

“Did I say something?”

“Almost?”

He blinked and shook his head. “What?”

“I taste almost as good as my scone?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh yes, you did, Steve Gate.”

“You know what I meant, Sydney.”

She stepped away, putting more distance between them.

“Actually, I do not. I think I’ve made a big mistake here, Steve. Please take me home.”

Turning, she headed for the car, hoping he was following, and praying he didn’t have an axe or carving utensils or bungee cords in that picnic basket he had brought with him.