Page 51 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

Rock Peters’ teeth glistened. At one point in the lunch conversation, Lyssa was certain a little starburst sparked off them when he smiled.

Too damned perfect.

This man was just too damned perfect!

She couldn’t find fault with his conversation. He knew how to take a turn, reply, ask the right questions, and make her feel special. He leaned in and hung on to her every word, like she was Gandhi, or something, and spouting some thoughtful and philosophical prose.

She had to admit, that one thing in and of itself was a complete and utter turn-on.

Not to mention the fact that when he leaned forward, he did so in a very intimate way and spoke in a low and deep voice that rolled over her like thick hot fudge, enveloping her in an alluring layer of warmth and, oh yeah, sexual appeal. She nearly forgot he was a preacher!

Of course, she was certain there was nothing written in The Good Book that prohibited a preacher from being alluring and sexy. She was darned certain that having some sort of charisma was a benefit in his profession. Speaking and listening was his thing. They probably had to take classes and such about it in preacher school, she imagined.

Obviously, they had classes in etiquette and dressing for success, too. This man was a dream. Lyssa was hard-pressed to pull herself out of his trance. In fact, she’d practically forgotten about Monday Suitor Number Two.

He was still talking, and she was extremely engaged in the deep blue of his eyes and paying not one iota of attention to the conversation, when he repeated.

“Ms. Larkin, I believe your purse is wiggling.”

She paid a casual glance to her small cloth clutch sitting on the table at her right elbow. Indeed, it was wiggling.

“Oh. Vibrator. Um, I mean, vibrat-ing. Cell phone. Incoming call. It will stop in a sec.”

And it did.

“I’m choosing to ignore it.”

Her gaze hooked into his and she smiled.

Rock grinned, one corner of his mouth turning up.

Lyssa cleared her throat and looked to her plate, a little embarrassed. She’d all but devoured her chicken breasts and potatoes parm. When had she done that? Heat rose to her cheeks.

What did this mean?

Could this? Could he?

Then Rock Peters reached out and grasped her left hand and pulled it across the table.

“Lyssa,”

he began.

“there is something I want to make clear. I am extremely enamored with you and I…”

“Twirrrp! Twirrrp!”

Her purse both jiggled and trilled this time.

Jerking, she laid a hand on the purse.

“Vibrating voicemail.”

“Indeed.”

He chuckled.

“You are a delight, Lyssa Larkin. But perhaps you should check it.”

Shaking her head, she replied.

“No. I will later.”

“Are you sure? It could be important.”

“Oh, no. Probably a client.”

Client? Mack? No… Stifle that thought.

“Well, if you are sure.”

She settled her gaze on him and smiled.

“I’m sure.”

Squeezing her hand, he beamed back.

“Lyssa, I was about to say that I would love to spend more time with…”

“BadadadaDA!”

Rock’s blue eyes disappeared behind closed lids. Lyssa slipped the purse off the table and put it under the chair.

“You were saying?”

“Email?”

“Text message.”

“Someone is persistent.”

She shook her head.

“I’m sure it’s not the same person. Coincidence.”

“BadadadaDA!”

“A lot of coincidences. Perhaps you should look.”

“No, it’s…”

“Lyssa, I would prefer not to have the interruption, so if you could…”

“Ding. Ding! Ding. Ding!”

“Email.”

They said simultaneously.

Lyssa kicked the purse and it slid across the slick hardwood floor and under a china cabinet. She’d just have to fish it out later.

“There. Out of ear’s reach.”

“Why didn’t you just silence it?”

Lyssa arched a brow.

“I don’t want to even look at the phone right now,”

she said, batting her eyes. Feeling bolder, she clasped her hand over his, between them on the table.

“You were saying?”

The dreamy look reappeared in his eyes, and once more, Lyssa was drawn in to their bedroomy persuasive—

The doorbell chimed.

They heard Suzie’s heels click across the plank floors from kitchen to entryway. Voices mingled. One male, one female. And Rock Peters dropped her hands, sat back on his chair, and searched her face.

“I’m going to say this quickly. I want to take you to dinner. How about Saturday? I’ll pick you up and we’ll make an evening of it.”

A sharp pain stabbed at the inside of her lip and Lyssa realized she was biting it.

“I would…”

Clicking heels again. Coming closer.

“…be honored.”

He flashed that toothy smile her way.

Suzie pushed into the room.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt, but Lyssa, you have another guest.”

The white flash faded, and Rock sent her a puzzled look.

“You have another lunch date?”

Lyssa glanced to Suzie.

“I, um, it was rather unexpected.”

Suzie stepped forward and put a hand on Rock’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry. But would you mind?”

Rock pinned Lyssa with his stare.

“I’ll call you.”

She nodded.

Suzie escorted him out.

****

Lyssa dashed for the china cabinet. Who in the heck was calling her so much? Was it Mack? And did she care? The lunch date with Rock Peters had gone oh-so-nicely. She had no idea the man was so sophisticated and, well yes, attractive. But was she really attracted to him?

Her brain spun.

Bending to peek under the cabinet, she reached to fish the purse out from beneath it.

Suzie’s heels clacked against the floor again, and she jerked her head up.

“Lyssa?”

Her voice preceded her into the room. Scrambling, she rushed toward the door, smoothing her hands over her hair.

“Yes?”

“There is someone here to meet you.”

Crap. This was too much. If she thought her brain was screwed up now, with thoughts bouncing back and forth from Rock Peters to Mack, the last thing she needed was to throw a third candidate into the mix.

“Oh?”

Still, she played the part. For Suzie.

Suzie and a man stepped into the room. For a moment, her heart stilled. She blinked. Had she seen him before somewhere? Oh, probably while shopping at Ralph’s. Everyone shopped at Ralph’s.

Oh. My.

He stood taller than both women and commanded a presence that was larger-than-life.

Sucking in a breath, Lyssa steadied herself with a hand to the table. What a beautiful man. The brown jacket he wore casually over blue jeans nicely accented his hazel-bordering-on-emerald eyes and dark brown hair.

His eyes twinkled as he reached out a hand toward her. Involuntarily, hers lifted and floated to his. He cradled her small hand in his, and then covered it with his left hand.

Warm.

Comfy.

Nice.

A sigh came from her left. Glancing at her friend, she realized it came from Suzie, who was staring at their clasped hands with misty eyes, like she’d just given away her only daughter to the Prince of Wales or something.

“I need to clear your table,”

she said and quickly rushed to lift plates, glasses, and flatware.

“I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”

And they were alone.

Lyssa supposed she should say something. Lifting her face to look into his eyes, she said.

“Should we sit?”

“I’m fine standing for a moment, if it’s okay with you. Been sitting for a while.”

The voice. Familiar too.

“Of course, Suzie shouldn’t be long. Are you hungry?”

“Not much.”

“You can let go of my hand now.”

“Oh.”

He did and hers fell to her side.

Suzie rushed back in, carrying plates and flatware rolled in a cloth napkin.

“Are you still standing there? Well, never mind. Here is both your salad and entree. I’ll be back in a flash with your tea, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Lyssa watched as Suzie set their places, not wanting to look up because she could feel the man’s eyes on her. The man. What was his name? He hadn’t said, had he? Had Suzie?

She was afraid to ask.

Stupid forgetting a date’s name. How embarrassing.

“There.”

Suzie stepped back and Lyssa caught her gaze. She shushed her toward the tables with a wave of her hands.

“Go on, you two have a nice lunch now.”

On a New York minute, she vanished.

Lyssa caught his gaze again and motioned toward the table.

“Please, sit.”

The act of sitting, and then fiddling with her napkin and flatware, followed by Suzie coming in and planting two sweating glasses of sweet tea beside their plates, allowed Lyssa time to gain a little bit of perspective.

What was she doing here?

She already had a suitor—a very appropriate one—in Rock Peters.

And she’d been pining away for Mack Roberts for days, and he was coming home tomorrow, and she’d finally get to meet him.

Come to think of it, her phone hadn’t rung lately, had it? She needed to get to her purse. Was that Mack who had been calling and texting and emailing and…? But why add to her misery? Balancing two men—when she wasn’t used to such a fantasy—was quite enough. She didn’t need to add another potential suitor to the mix.

Did she?

Even if this potential suitor was drop-dead, gorgeous and looking at her like he could have her for dessert?

Gotta get rid of him, she reluctantly decided.

Her shoulders sank, and she looked him straight in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I can stay for lunch. I have…”

she grimaced.

“a pounding headache coming on.”

Her fingertips went to her temple.

“Migraine. I’m prone to them, sorry to say.”

He frowned.

It panged her heart.

“If you are not feeling well, of course, I can understand that, but,”

he glanced at his plate.

“this chicken looks very good. Why don’t we just sit and eat. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want. Your head may feel better in a minute. Maybe you need food.”

She didn’t think so. She’d gobbled down her lunch with Rock but of course he did not know that. Well, not that her head really hurt, either, because it didn’t. It was just all this thinking about men and lunches and dates and possibilities and missed cell phone calls that made it potentially hurt—plus she was suddenly suffering from date overload.

No, she had to get rid of him.

Why did he have to look so good sitting there across from her, thoroughly enjoying his lunch?

“Maybe you should go.”

He shook his head.

“I would really like to finish my lunch.”

He picked up his knife and fork and began cutting into the chicken.

What? Didn’t he know the rule? When she said she had a headache, he needed to leave. That was the rule. Men know the rules, don’t they?

“Oh.”

“So, tell me about you, Lyssa.”

Looking up, he chewed and waited for her to respond, like he had totally dismissed that she said he should leave.

This wasn’t going as expected.

“I, uh…”

“Ever been married?”

She focused on his face. Hells bells, the question. That should get rid of him. “No.”

She waited for the normal response of, “Why not?”

but it never came.

She rubbed her head.

“You?”

she eked out. Shit. I’m doing the conversation thing.

“Yes.”

“Divorced?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Widower. Must be a run on them.

“Why don’t you try your potatoes? They really are very good.”

She knew that. She’d already eaten most of her lunch with Rock. She put a hand to her stomach.

His brow furrowed and he set his fork aside.

“You really are not feeling well, are you?”

About that time, her stomach growled. She loved the parm potatoes and a bite of them right now might calm her jumpy tummy.

If she got rid of him, she could have his lunch, and hers. With fork in hand, she reached to scoop up a bit from his plate.

He stopped her hand in mid-dip, an amused look on his face.

“I meant yours, not mine.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Not sure what I was thinking.”

“Actually, I thought it kind of cute.”

Lyssa exhaled.

“I think I’m going to throw up,”

she said. Throwing up would surely get her out of this situation, wouldn’t it?

“Well, that’s not good.”

“I have to leave.”

“I suppose I should leave then, too.”

He didn’t seem too concerned about it. In fact, he sort of snickered when he said it, like it was a joke or something.

Rising, Lyssa dropped her napkin to her chair.

“I’m sorry. Perhaps we can…”

He nodded.

“I totally understand. It was nice to meet you.”

He exited before she had a chance to echo that same thought. With a huge sigh, she raced across the room, got down on all fours, and stretched to reach far underneath the china cabinet for her purse.

****

Mack had to say that the view that met him upon re-entering the dining room at Sweet Hart Inn was spectacular. Of course, he wasn’t referring to the lovely fall scene out the large picture window that framed Falls Mountain in all her glory, while providing him with a glimpse of Falls Lake.

No. That wasn’t the view, at all, that he was very much enjoying.

She was perched on all fours, her round derriere clad in those hip-hugging black slacks he’d admired earlier, swayed back and forth before him. Taunting. She placed one forearm flat on the floor and stretched forward to retrieve something, it appeared, from underneath an old, antique china cabinet. The clearance could only be a few inches off the floor. He angled his head to the right as she maneuvered herself even closer to the piece of furniture while laying her cheek flush against the plank flooring and peering into the depths beyond.

“Oh, come on you…”

Lyssa muttered.

A long, brunette ponytail swished to the floor over her shoulder.

Mack brought a hand to his chin, ran his fingers over the stubble there, and smirked. He could stand here, well, forever, and watch this, but perhaps he should do something to help.

“Almost, got you…”

She wiggled her ass again, and for another moment, he cocked his head to the side just to watch.

No. No need to rush this. Correct?

A little bit of mischievous boy raced through him. Retrieving his cell phone, he punched in a few words and pressed send. A muffled.

“BadadadaDA!”

sounded from beneath the cabinet.

“Dammit!”

Lyssa sputtered. She flipped her body to lie on the floor, her right hip against the wood, and her right arm squeezing between wood and floor.

Mack watched. He should really stop this.

“Come on you bastard…”

she whispered.

She had a bit of spunk. He liked that. Looked like she’d gotten rid of her headache. Of course, he should have told her earlier who he was, but it was just too much fun keeping her in the dark.

He’d fess up. Soon.

Finally, she hooked her finger into the thing she was retrieving, and he watched as she pulled a small purse, complete with dust bunnies, out from beneath the cabinet. She jerked up and sat on her knees—her back still to him—and dug into the pouch.

Out came the cell. She punched buttons and searched.

“Mack,”

she exhaled his name on a breath.

He ticked off the messages in his head. Phone call. Voicemail. Three text messages. One email. All of them basically saying the same thing.

I’m home early. Lunch?

Except for the last one, which said…

Nice ass.

****

Lyssa stared at the last text message from Mack and shook her head. Nice ass? What? Then the thing BadadadaDA-ed! again, and another message flashed.

Turn around.

Her body did just that—slowly—while her heart thudded in her chest. As she rotated backward, she observed the entire scenario in slow motion—the picture window, the small table with remnants of her second lunch with what’s his name, a mahogany sideboard, some picture on the wall, and…a man.

What’s his name?

The slow motion skidded to a stop.

Her gaze met him first at denim-clad knees, traveled downward slightly to a pair of worn brown loafers, then moved upward over thighs that filled out those denim jeans rather nicely—as was his pelvis area, filled out nicely, she noticed—then upward to a stocky chest adorned with a snug-fitting black t-shirt covered by a dark brown leather blazer, and then…

Her gaze met his face. Correction. Smiling, scruffy face. He had nice crinkles around the corners of his mouth, a hint of a five o’clock shadow, and green eyes that met hers and held with a twinkling of excitement.

What’s his name, indeed. “Mack?”

she whispered.

“Hello, Lyssa.”

He reached out a hand.

“Here, let me help you up.”

His large hand swallowed hers, and was warm and all encompassing, just as it was before, as he pulled her to her feet. The view that met her was of his neck and collarbone area, a wisp of dark chest hair poking out from the t-shirt collar. Tilting her head, she looked up again into those green eyes and found herself spellbound.

Suddenly, knowing who he was made all the difference in the world. Her libido was doing a three-sixty.

“Wha…?”

“Yes. Sorry. Not telling you immediately was Suzie’s idea. We discussed it and thought it best.”

“Oh.”

Finally, she added.

“How long have you been here, um, standing there?”

“Long enough to know that I am totally enchanted by you.”

She swallowed. “Really?”

“You’re as cute as a speckled pup.”

“Um. Me?”

He tweaked her nose. His touch sent a tingle straight to her center.

“Yes, you.”

“Oh.”

“Did you lose your purse?”

“Kicked it.”

He was still holding her hand, the one not clutching her phone. His other hand made its way to her upper arm and was rubbing gently up and down.”

“Why?”

“Vibrations.”

“Hm.”

They were eye locked. Neither of them seemed to want to break the gaze.

“Aren’t you home early?”

“Just by a day.”

“Why?”

Mack didn’t immediately answer.

“Lyssa, I know this sounds crazy. We’ve only just texted and emailed and one phone conversation, but I am a little smitten. I needed to see you. I wanted like crazy to see you. And I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

Thud-thud. Pitter-patter. Be still my heart.

He continued.

“I had to see if the chemistry I was feeling with our messages would…”

“Continue to intrigue? Play out in real life?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s why you were calling.”

“And emailing and texting…”

“And texting and texting…”

And suddenly, she had to wonder.

“Mack, did you know I was having lunch today?”

He blinked slowly and exhaled.

“I did. I confess. I was out to sabotage your lunch.”

Something all twittery broke loose in her belly. “Really.”

“Yes.”

“And… You set up the second lunch date with Suzie?”

The hand on her upper arm inched its way up her shoulder and then cupped her cheek.

“Yes. I called her. And lunch was wonderful. But I’m still holding out for dessert.”

He brought a hand to his chin.

“Of course, you have a headache.”

“You speak desert?”

“I have a mean chocolate fetish.”

“Hot fudge?”

“My favorite.”

“Hot fudge cures headaches.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Especially with whipped cream and a cherry on top.”

“Nothing better.”

Grinning, she grasped his hand and pulled him toward the door.

“All Suzie has is mango sorbet. Let’s ditch this joint and head for the Dairy Barn.”

With a jerk, he hauled her back up against him.

“Chocolate later. May I kiss you first?”

Feeling the hard length of him slammed up against her was pure heaven. She nodded. “Oh… Yes.”

But when his lips lowered to meet hers, the heaven she thought she had just experienced was replaced by something more euphoric and, well, beyond heaven. Um, not even heaven-like.

Sinful.

Soft, moist and firm, his mouth covered hers and a crackle of decadent delight snaked through her body and landed with a thud deep in her core. Better than chocolate. Wicked better.

Oh, yes. She moaned and he reacted with an urgent groan of his own. One hand found her ponytail and he latched on, crushing her against him. He tasted like the promise of sweet, satisfied, and yes, sinful, sex.

Which was all she was thinking about now. Forget hot fudge. Sex. With Mack.

Like, now.

Could they get a room? Upstairs?

“Ahem.”

They broke the kiss and turned. Mr. Reverend Rock Peters stood framed by the door, his arms crossed, while Suzie peered over his shoulder with a big frown on her face.

“I came back, Ms. Larkin, to get your phone number.”

He stared at Mack, who had protectively placed an arm around Lyssa’s shoulders.

“So, I can call you about our date Saturday night.”

Swallowing hard, Lyssa glared at Rock, and then slowly angled her gaze at Mack. “I, um…”

Mack arched a brow.

Rock waited patiently.

Suzie slapped the palm of her hand against her forehead.

“My phone…”

she began, her gaze still caught tight with Mack’s, “is…um…”

Mack waited patiently.

Rock arched a brow.

Lyssa looked down at the phone in her hand.

“Broken. My phone is broken.”

She looked the good Reverend Rock Peters straight in the eye then.

“Sad, I know, for a woman who lives by her phone but…”

She couldn’t lie to a man of the cloth.

“I mean, what’s broken, Reverend Peters, is the date. I’m very sorry, but I will not be able to have that date with you Saturday night, after all.”

Suzie disappeared into the entryway. Rock glanced from Mack to Lyssa and back again.

“I am disappointed, but I understand,”

he said, then added.

“I wish you well.”

And then was gone.

His leaving left Lyssa all panicky. Had she done the right thing? What would Mack think? Was she moving too fast? Would he have expected that she ditched Rock for him?

Well, that was what she wanted.

But did he?

“Lyssa?”

He said her name softly. She didn’t immediately turn. But Mack would not be denied and lifted her chin back up so he could peer into her eyes. Without a word, he took her lips again and finished the kiss.

And oh, what a kiss.

Mingling lips and lazy caresses swept across her mouth with a teasing of tongue and the promise of more to come. Lyssa was sure her heart had just stopped, then and there.

Oh, my God.

Am I falling head over heels or what?

Finally, they separated, and Mack whispered against her cheek.

“I hate leaving things undone.”

“Hot fudge,”

she countered.

“I’m all over it,”

he replied.

“No, I mean your kisses are better than hot fudge.”

“Any reason we can’t enjoy both?”

“No. But if we don’t get out of here, soon,”

she confessed.

“I’m going to be all over you.”

Mack threw back his head and laughed.