An Unlikely Match (The Match Series - Book #1) (4 page)

BOOK: An Unlikely Match (The Match Series - Book #1)
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He figured he’
d earned the right to ogle for a moment. Or at least, he was about to earn that right.


The cabby brought them this far,” she chatted. “But I didn’t really want a strange man going up to the bedrooms. Not that he offered.”

It was on the tip of Morgan’s tongue to
point out that he was also a strange man, but he decided to let that one lie.

He glanced around the interior and was struck by how
empty it was. He understood that she was just moving in, but aside from a single box on the kitchen counter and the three in the entry hall, he didn’t see any belongings.

“Are
your movers coming tomorrow?” he asked.

She stopped
next to the boxes in the small entry, shaking her head as she turned. “I’ve lived in a room at the sorority house for the past few years. So, no furniture of my own.”

“I guess you’ll be going shopping.

She struck him as the type who’d enjoy
shopping. He hoisted the closest box into his arms. It wasn’t too heavy, maybe thirty-five pounds.

“I would if I had any money.
I’m going to have to work for a while before I buy anything. But I’ve got an air mattress and a sleeping bag.” She led the way up the narrow staircase.


So, you moved to Pasadena to take a job?”


That’s the grand plan. But I don’t have one yet.” She rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and pointed. “That can go in the big bedroom.”

He moved down the short hallway in a
condo that was the reverse of his. In both condos, the master bedroom took up most of the top floor, with a cheater en-suite bathroom that opened into the bedroom but also into the hall. Her bedroom was back to back with his. Each of them had a small balcony that overlooked the backyard and the view.


My great-aunt owns this place,” Amelia continued. “She’s letting me stay here while I find a job.”


She sounds like a very nice aunt.”

“She’
s a peach.”

Since there was nowhere else to put it, h
e set the box down on the floor.

Her
voice went husky. “You’re a peach too, Morgan Holbrook.”

The
sultry tone strummed across his nervous system, sending pings of arousal to every corner of his body. The reaction was both predictable and annoying. And it was such an obvious ploy that it was an insult to his intelligence. She didn’t need to play tricks to manipulate him.


You don’t have to flirt with me,” he told her.

His
blunt words obviously took her by surprise. It was a moment before she answered. “I’m not flirting with you.”

He didn’t call her
directly on the lie. “I’ll still move the rest of your boxes.”

“This isn’t
flirting,” she insisted, the sultry note disappearing from her voice.

He folded his arms across his chest
, telling himself he was too smart for these kinds of games. “Then what do you call it?”

She
didn’t hesitate. “I call it conversation.”


Sure. We’ll pretend it wasn’t persuasion.” He turned to walk toward the bedroom door.

“Hey,”
she hop-stepped behind him. “You can’t just walk away.”

Yeah, he imagined she wasn’t used to that. “I’m getting the next box.”

“We were having a conversation.”

“I
thought I was moving boxes.”

“Are you always this contrary?”

He made his way down the stairs. “Do you always argue with people who are helping you?”

“Who’s arguing?”

He shook his head as he reached the front hall, chuckling coldly at both himself and at her. Human beings were such ridiculously predictable creatures. He stacked the last two boxes together and lifted them.

“Are you laughing at me?”
she asked.

“No,” he lied.

She followed him to the top of the stairs. “Why are you laughing at me?”


Because I find you entertaining.” Which was another lie. What he found her was alluring and captivating, and it annoyed him to be such a slave to his base hormones.


What? Like a trained monkey?” she asked.

His grin widened.

“Stop that,” she demanded.

“You said it, I didn’t.”

“You could have disagreed with me.”

“I could have,” he
said. He avoided looking at her as he set the other two boxes down. It was easier to stay grounded when he was battling only her voice and her scent. He moved the top box onto the floor so that she could more easily unpack them.

“I’m not a trained monkey,
” she insisted.


I agree. Back at Berkeley, we’d have called you a Pavlovian blon—” He couldn’t seem to stop himself from glancing at her. “But, no, your hair is auburn. Doesn’t have quite the same ring, though, does it?”

Her brow furrowed
. He couldn’t tell if she was hurt or confused.

He
felt like a prize jerk for insulting her. His moronic libido wasn’t her fault. With an IQ bordering on two hundred, you’d think he’d be able to control himself. But when it came to beautiful women, he was no smarter than the next guy.

“Were you going to call me a
Pavlovian blonde?”

“It was a joke back in grad school.
It means a woman who’s so beautiful she’s learned the world will give her anything.” He didn’t add that it also meant a woman who was socially conditioned to use her beauty for personal gain. He had absolutely no reason to assume Amelia flirted her way to free drinks or anything else.


You think the world will give me anything?” she asked, looking genuinely surprised.

It was on the tip of his tongue to admit that
he
would give her anything.

“I have no furniture,” she continued, gesturing around the empty room. Then sh
e called out in a loud voice. “Hey, world, where’s my furniture?”

He
couldn’t help but grin again. He wished she wasn’t so delightful.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” she
ordered.

He forcibly straightened his expression.

“You don’t know a thing about me,” she accused.

“Maybe not,” he conceded. “But before you get all
high-and-mighty, ask yourself when you last paid for a drink in a bar.”

She immediately looked guilty, and he knew he’d hit the nail on the head. Then
her expression changed to hurt, and he felt like a jerk all over again.

What
the hell was the matter with him?


I better go,” he told her, moving toward the door.

He
’d probably done enough damage for one night.

o
o o o

In the bare living room,
Amelia dug through her carry-on bag, working on not feeling sorry for herself. She had a roof over her head, a warm sleeping bag and an air mattress for a bed. Well, at least she would have an air mattress for a bed once she blew it up. She wished she’d thought to ask Morgan to blow it up for her before he—

She caught herself.

Was she really thinking she should have batted her eyelashes and persuaded him to blow up her air mattress? That would have validated his low opinion of her—which didn’t deserve to be validated.

In the bottom of the bag, s
he located a leftover granola bar from the trip. She rocked back on her heels in triumph. Forget needing a man. She was set. She had water in the tap, an almond oat bar for dinner, and she’d have a comfy bed just as soon as she set it up. For herself. Because she was an independent woman.

She
pushed back until she was leaning against the wall, legs stretched out on the thick carpet. She retrieved her cell phone, scrolling through a list of text messages.


Pavlovian blonde,” she repeated out loud.

But e
ven as she worked up an appropriate level of disdain, she was forced to fight a smile. It was kind of funny. And, the truth was, she and her sorority friends would have called Morgan a geek, a dweeb or a FE-PWAPP: Four-Eyes, Probably-Wears-a-Pocket-Protector
.

Okay, so maybe Morgan was
n’t your typical geek. Truth was, he was quite attractive, at least he was if you looked past the shaggy hair, glasses and that god-awful, plaid golf shirt. He certainly seemed fit enough. He’d carried the heavy boxes up the stairs as if they were nothing.

And she
certainly did appreciate his help.

She opened up a text message from
Krista. Krista was with a group of their friends at a bar in Tucson, and it sounded like they were having a blast.

Out of curiosity, she texted back
, asking if they’d bought any of their own drinks.

Krista immediately responded with a
winky face and an emphatic, “
No way
.” Free drinks, and it was only Wednesday.

Amelia groaned and banged her head back against the wall.
There was a chance she owed Morgan an apology.

Her phone chimed in her hand, showing an unknown number.

For some reason, her thoughts went straight to Morgan.

She raised it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Amelia, honey? It’s Auntie Hannah.”

Ame
lia’s heart immediately warmed. “Hi, Auntie Hannah. Mom was going to text me your number so I could call. I’m here. I’m in the condo.”


That’s great news, honey. What do you think of it? Is it nice? Are you warm enough?”

“I’m
more than warm enough.” The words made her realize the condo had grown quite hot. She came to her feet and moved to open a window to her backyard. “The place is fantastic. The view’s spectacular. I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay.”

“Oh, pooh,”
sang Hannah. “If I can’t help my nieces and nephews, what’s the point of being alive?”

“You’re very good to us.”

“Now that you’re settled, what are you going to do first?” asked Hannah.


I’ll be looking for a job tomorrow.”

“An acting job?”

“Probably waitressing to start with.” Amelia played with a bank of switches on the back wall, discovering one of them turned on some recessed lights in the garden. “It’s mostly evening work. That’ll leave my days open to go to auditions.”

“Do you need any money, dear?”

“No, no.” Amelia brushed away the offer. “I’m fine. And I’ll start getting tips right away.”

“Make sure you don’t work too hard.”

“I will.” Amelia flipped another switch, lighting up the tiny pool and the in-ground hot tub. It was the cutest little yard ever. As soon as she earned enough in tips, she was buying herself a bottle of wine and lounging out there.

There was a slight pause on the line. “So, Amelia, have you met anyone there yet?”

“In Pasadena? I just got here today.”

“In the neighborhood, maybe?”

Amelia’s chest gave a strange tingle as Morgan flooded into her mind. Guilt, she concluded. She really would have to apologize.

“The guy next door,” she told her aunt.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Hannah sounded delighted. “What did you think of him?”


We really just said hello.”

“Is he attractive?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a little.” Amelia didn’t want to say anything derogatory. “He’s a little...he comes across... I don’t know, kinda brainy, maybe.”

“So
, intelligent. Intelligent is good.”


How are you, Auntie? How are things in Florida?”

“Talk about
more than warm enough,” laughed Hannah. “I spent the morning baking bread and the afternoon in the pool.”

“Are
you feeling well? Mom said your knee was bothering you.”

“Oh, that old thing.
It’s just my age. A little whisky fixes it right up.”

Amelia smiled to herself.
“What did you bake?”


Those tiny pecan tarts, with the Chantilly cream. My neighbors like them with a bit of bourbon.”

“Yum,” said Amelia, realizing she was hungry and wishing she had something more substantial than a granola bar for dinner.

“You’ll keep me posted on the handsome neighbor?” Hannah asked.

“Absolutely,” Amelia agreed, thinking there wouldn’t be much to tell. After their argument today, he’d probably avoid her
as much as possible.

Just then, she caught a whiff of barbecue on the breeze.

BOOK: An Unlikely Match (The Match Series - Book #1)
10.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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