Page 64 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

“Ah, c’mon, honey. You know that didn’t mean anything.”

“Coop, you are one world-class Son. Of. A Bitch.”

Ames Cooper closed his eyes, but he could still see the naked form of his latest girlfriend, Mel, standing at the foot of his bed. He laid there for a moment, his head propped up on his fist, savoring the picture and filing it away into some recessed file drawer in his head—the one with all the other images of girlfriends and one-night-stands past.

Someday, those ghosts would all come back to haunt him.

In an instant, he popped the image away and sat up.

“Now sweetheart. Don’t get so hot and bothered. It was just a little flirt action. That’s all.”

Mel set a glass of water on the bureau, snatched his black t-shirt off the floor, and pulled it over her head. As she walked away, he could see the globes of her ass peeking out underneath.

Damn. He was gonna miss that ass.

Sass and ass. That was what he always called her. Maybe she was bluffing him with a bunch of sass right now.

She stopped at the bedroom door and turned, her hand resting on the wooden frame at eye level. When she did that, the t-shirt rode up some. Lordamercy, what a sweet puss—

“You left your laptop on, Coop. And your email up. And your instant messenger going. It was binging all over the place when I went to get water. Do I need to recite for you that little flirt action?”

Hell. No. He didn’t.

Rising, naked as well, he strode toward her. Just an hour earlier he’d been buried inside her, enjoying the sinful action of those hips his gaze was still locked into.

“Aw, honey. Those emails and messages mean nothing. Just passing the time and delving into a little distraction while waiting for my film to develop. You know that you...”

He grasped her elbow.

She sneered and yanked it back.

“Let me recite just one line, Ames Cooper, and you tell me how innocent this flirting was. I think it went something like this: ‘Ah, Coop, you know just how I like it… Yesterday in the elevator was pure bliss.’”

Those words stopped him stone cold. His hand dropped to his side.

Busted.

“I can explain.”

“Like hell. You banged her in the elevator?”

“Well, not really banged, it was just sort of an oral thing.”

“Ah, shit, Cooper!”

“Now, Mel.”

“Don’t ‘Now Mel’ me. You are officially a world class asshole.”

She turned and stalked off and he followed.

“Wait a minute, Mel,”

he shouted.

“You were the one who said we weren’t making any commitments here. We were just trying this relationship on for size, and we were going to see how it worked and—”

She whirled, eyes flashing.

“And damned good thing, too. I wanted to see if you could semi-commit, Coop. We have flirted around with this thing for months. I now see why I was so cautious. You flunked.”

“So, this was a test?”

Mel was a teacher and he loved to pla.

“hot for teacher”

with her. Somehow, he didn’t think she was playing.

“Just a quiz, schoolboy. You didn’t even make it to the test.”

Busted, again.

She shrugged into her jeans, slipped her feet into a pair of sandals, grabbed her bag and swung toward the door.

“Goodbye, Coop. Have a great life. That is, if you can figure out what that is.”

She left wearing his favorite black t-shirt. Dammit.

Figure out what that is.

Ames sat straight down on an ottoman and stared at the floor. Hell, he thought he’d already figured it out long ago. He knew who he was and what he was, and he lived the life he wanted to live. But if that were the case, why did her parting words sting so much?

Because he’d heard those same parting words in slight variation many times over the past few years.

Get a life, Coop.

Grow up, Ames. It’s time to be an adult.

What is it you want to do with your life, Cooper?

Will you ever settle down, Ames Cooper? Will you ever commit?

Shit.

The verbal files in his brain were spinning now, right alongside those old pictures. Just when he thought he had it all figured out, the past truly did come back to bite—his brain’s rolodex stopped twirling and lay open at one picture, one statement, that he’d never, truly, been able to get over.

I fell in love with you, Coop, against my better judgment. I let myself fall in love with you. And now this? It will be a long time before I trust you or any man...

After losing her, he really hadn’t given a damn, figuring he was never going to get it right, anyway.

From the bedroom, his alarm clock rattled. Rising, he glanced at the clock over the stove in his small apartment.

Eight-thirty.

“Dammit.”

He had to be across town for a shoot at one o’clock and he had a ton of shit to do before then.

****

The skillet in Suzie’s hand tumbled end over end and banged on the floor. Thank God, it was empty. Ten minutes later, it would have been full of marinara sauce. Flustered, the chef skittered after it.

“Cut.”

“Slow down, honey. Relax.”

Patricia rounded the counter.

“Take a break, guys.”

Suzie glanced up and met her gaze from where she was crouched behind the counter, reaching for the skillet. “Sorry.”

“It’s just nerves.”

“I know.”

She stood and faced Patricia.

“I thought that with all the cooking I’ve done in front of my students, the taping would be a piece of cake, but the cameras and the people milling about, I just wasn’t expecting all of the distractions.”

“I know that.”

This was to be expected. Suzie wasn’t a pro, but Patricia planned to make her one.

“You’ll get the hang of it. In fact, I think you’ve done a pretty good job this morning.”

She tugged at Suzie’s apron and tossed it on the counter.

“Let’s go get some coffee. God, I wish I had some of your cinnamon brew.”

“I brought some.”

With a tic of her head, Patricia replied.

“You didn’t.”

“I have some back at the hotel. I despise hotel coffee.”

“Enough to share?”

“Of course.”

Suzie grinned and Patricia sensed her relax some. Good.

“I’ll bring it tomorrow,”

Suzie added.

“But right now, I would welcome a hot one, tall and black. With cinnamon or without.”

Drumming her fingers on the counter, Patricia glanced off toward the coffee stand at the rear of the studio.

“Huh. Hot and tall. Like a man I knew once.”

“Patricia!”

She looked into Suzie’s Southern Belle round eyes.

“Well, I was younger and...”

It was a mistake. But she didn’t tell Suzie that.

Suzie waved her hands in the air and frowned.

“Patricia. Not an issue. I just never heard you mention having a man in your life.”

“I didn’t. Don’t. Have a man in my life. All in the past.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Patricia shrugged and figured that Suzie must think all women need a man.

“I do like men though,”

she added quickly, lest Suzie get the wrong idea.

“Well, me, too!”

Suzie added.

“You already have a man.”

“That, I do.”

“But some women do not.”

“True.”

“That’s why you being a matchmaker is so wonderful.”

Okay, here I go, setting her up for the kill.

“You know, to get women, and men, too, over the hump, so to speak. To help them make those connections that they might otherwise ignore and end up alone and old and wrinkled like a prune without…uh, sex.”

“Whoa,”

Suzie said.

“You’re really in a place here, aren’t you?”

Patricia wasn’t sure to admit it or deny.

“I’m just, well, unmatched at the moment and a little dissatisfied with the whole couple thing.”

There, somewhat of an admittance, she guessed.

“Coupledom just doesn’t seem to work for me.”

Suzie smiled.

“Well. Generally, there is a deeper issue…”

“Oh, hell, Miss Chef. Don’t go getting all clinical on me and everything. I just want a little action occasionally, you know?”

Patricia smiled and knew she had to change the atmosphere and fast—she wasn’t willing to get into therapy over the fact that she was prone to connect with commitment-phobic men.

Suzie snorted.

“I just enjoy helping people find their match,”

she said.

“Some just need a little bit more of a nudge than others in that department.”

“Like me?”

“You need a nudge, Patricia?”

Suzie studied her, and then grinned.

“A hot and tall one?”

Patricia’s heart clutched and memories flooded back.

“No. No. I’m over that. Truly.”

Okay, just a little white lie there.

“But I do have a list.”

“List?”

“Um-hm.”

“Why is it I feel this conversation is leading to somewhere I wasn’t expecting?”

This was the point where Patricia knew she might have to grovel.

“Suzie, you can do this one thing for me, right?”

“What?”

“Bake me a match. I mean, be my matchmaker. As much as I complain about not being good at relationships, I still want to try…”

Suzie looked like someone had just thrown her a huge curveball—her brow wavy, her eyes squinty, and her mouth pursed into a little O.

“No, Patricia. We had the show all worked out, remember? I can’t put you on the show.”

Patricia shook her head.

“Oh no! Not what I mean, Suzie. You could do this for me on the side, right? It’s not a huge list nor too complicated, and I know you don’t really know anyone in New York right now, but I would love it if you would keep your eyes and ears open and—”

She stopped and bit her lower lip, scrutinizing Suzie. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a piece of paper folded into a perfect square and shoved it into Suzie’s hands.

“Here. I’m not necessarily married—ha! no pun intended—to everything on that list, but it’s a start. Some things are negotiable given the right circumstances. I’ve starred the things that are non-negotiable. Absolutely non-negotiable. What do you think?”

Suzie glanced at the list and back into her face.

“What do you think I am? Some short order cook who can whip you up a mate to order?”

“No, I think you are a friend who really and truly wants to help me out. Right? Please, Suzie?”

She looked back at the list.

“Okay, so when you say negotiable, what constitutes given the right circumstances?”

“Well, for example, I might negotiate the kid factor if the guy made enough money to support said kid and if I semi-liked the kid and if the kid was a girl, and so on...”

Suzie smirked a little.

“So, there are items that could be trade-offs, perhaps.”

“Possibly.”

Suddenly Patricia felt extremely nervous and vulnerable. She shouldn’t have gone down this road yet.

“I’ll think about it,”

Suzie finally said, tucking the list into her apron pocket.

“Now, we should get back to work.”

Patricia nodded at the turn.

“Yes. Let’s.”

She snapped her finger at the crew.

“Let’s get this shoot done this morning. We have promo stills to do this afternoon.”

Suzie was back behind her counter in no time.

****

Ames leaned against the doorframe at the rear of the studio and perused the scenario before him. The chef was a mite inexperienced in front of the camera, but she could plate like nobody’s business. He was already considering angles and lighting for a couple of the dishes. Thank God, the woman had a keen sense of color, as well. This was going to be an enjoyable afternoon.

He had hesitated to take the job. Was surprised that he’d been contacted, fearing he’d been blackballed from working with anyone connected with this new show’s parent network since...

Shit.

He stood a little straighter and damned near contemplated slipping out the back door before anyone noticed—but once the three-inch red heels that caught his attention clicked into view from across the room, he was rendered immobile.

Heels. With long, firm legs attached. Legs that once-upon-a-time wrapped themselves about him in wicked splendor.

She wore a short skirt of a respectable length hitting a couple of inches above the knee.

Damn. She always did have legs good for skirts.

His gaze traveled the rest of the way up her body, taking in her reputable gray suit, the sinful scarlet camisole peeking out from beneath her jacket lapels, and sexy, dark-with-a-hint-of-auburn curls swept back from her face but allowing their length to play over her shoulders.

The sight of her sucked the breath right out of his chest.

Hell. Patricia.

He’d always loved her skin. Creamy and dewy, in stark contrast to his own. He remembered lying in bed at night and laying his forearm over her milky back and savoring how they looked together. Even though his heritage was biracial, and his skin tone was a lot lighter than many of his family, his coloring was far darker than her pale Irish complexion.

Her voice across the way pulled him out of his reverie and suddenly, it was like she was saying the words all over again, tears streaming down her face, disbelief in her eyes.

I fell in love with you, Coop, against my better judgment. I let myself fall in love with you. And now this? It will be a long time before I trust any man...

He was a goddamned sonofabitch.