Dirty Deal (A Perfectly Matched Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (2 page)

“May I present to you our hometown hero, an officer
and
a gentleman, unless you don’t want him to be, the one, the only, Dr. Bryan Metcalf!”

She waved him onto the stage with an exaggerated flourish.

Now or never.

With a deep breath, he strode out, trying hard to pretend he was in his scrubs and not in this ridiculous getup. Marching down the makeshift catwalk, he caught sight of his yearlong mistake and prayed to all things great and good that she was there by way of coincidence. He was a last-minute stand-in, so there was no way she could’ve known he’d be there. Surely she’d moved on by now anyway and wouldn’t want to—

“Five hundred dollars!”

The grating soprano of his former girlfriend split the air as her paddle darted upward. She sat on the edge of her seat, bright-eyed and shaking like a Chihuahua in need of a walk.

“Uh, yeah. Good. Great start,” Quinn said, shooting him a panicked glance. “Who will give me five-fifty?” she called, a note of desperation in her voice.

She was clearly as shocked as he was by Piper’s presence, which made him feel a little better.

Not much, though. He made his way across the stage a second time and, mercifully, another paddle shot up. He sent a grateful smile toward the bidder until he realized who it was. Grace Love, owner of one of the numerous dating companies Quinn had harangued him into joining, sat at the table across from his ex, her gaze fixed intently on him.

Perfect.

There was no way to know which was the lesser of the two evils. Piper was basically a gold medalist in stalking, but Grace was making strides toward surpassing his ex’s record. In the weeks since he’d been home, she’d contacted him half a dozen times, begging him to endorse her company. It was weird, and not a little unsettling. No doubt if she won the auction he’d be forced to sit through five courses listening to why it was best for everyone that he “be the face of Love Will Find a Way matchmaking services.”

There wasn’t much time to think on it too hard, because the bids were flying like bullets across the room, with each woman whipping out her paddle before the other had finished speaking. All the while, he could spot Piper whispering something out the side of her mouth. Knowing Piper, it could’ve been anything. Voodoo curses at her competitor. Wiccan love spells. Crazed threats. There was no telling which, but he was damned sure that she wasn’t above any of it.

And the bids kept climbing. Two women, locked in a battle that he was sure to lose. Eighteen hundred. Nineteen hundred, with no sign of either of them slowing down. He’d stopped working the catwalk and stood stock-still, just wanting it to be over so he could mentally prepare for whatever fresh hell awaited him, when a statuesque platinum blonde he’d been too traumatized to notice sitting beside Grace snatched the paddle from her.

She mumbled something he couldn’t hear, first to her companion and then to Piper. With a sinking heart, he thought for a moment that she had taken Grace’s paddle from her altogether to stop her from spending too much money, but on Piper’s next bid, the blonde countered her with a cool confidence. Then, she turned to face the stage and met his gaze head on.

She was impossibly gorgeous, with blue eyes so bright he could see them from twenty yards away, and he found himself wishing for a bigger fig leaf.

Okay, so maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total bust after all.

…

“Watch and learn, you nancy.” Serena grabbed her friend’s paddle and set it in her lap, waiting for the viper sitting opposite them to strike again.

Grace had been putting up bids like they were going out of style and all for one guy at a bachelor’s auction? Yes, Love Will Find a Way could use the endorsement, but surely there were other attractive, eligible doctors around who could do it. If Grace didn’t have a hunk of a man at home, Serena would’ve wondered if maybe her friend didn’t have a little crush on this Bryan Metcalf.

And if Grace’s behavior wasn’t weird enough, the other woman was taking the bidding just as seriously. Okay, so the guy was cute in a nice-guy way, and his body was lean and muscular, right up her alley, but this was a little much.

As soon as Grace raised her paddle, the woman had come at her with a barrage of put-downs that had been getting progressively more vicious, starting with, “You’re not really his type, sweetie,” and ending somewhere near, “You could probably stand to go without a five-course meal.”

Grace was too sweet and dignified to respond to the woman’s taunting, but Serena?

Oh,
hell
no. She wouldn’t abide anybody talking to her best friend that way.

Serena leaned across Grace to get close enough for the little bully to hear her. “Blanche from
Golden Girls
called. She wants that dress back,” she hissed, sneering at the woman’s three-seasons-out-of-date polka-dot frock before throwing her paddle in the air.

“Fuck you, Twiggy,” the woman snarled before calling out, “Three thousand!”

Damn. This bitch had balls of steel and a major lady boner for Dr. Bryan Metcalf.

Serena sized her up, looking for a weak spot to exploit, when Grace tapped her wrist and directed her attention to the auction again.

Right. They needed to win this or Grace was going to pitch a fit. Apparently only “hometown hero” Bryan Metcalf would do, so Serena threw the paddle in the air again. Now it was
on
.

“I still don’t think I get what your plan is here, by the way.” She shouldered Grace, grabbing her attention away from the woman beside them who continued the onslaught of insults not-really-under-her-breath.

“I just need ten minutes to talk to him about advertising for us. A couple photo shoots and a commercial, easy peasy. Look at him. That’s the face I want for our posters.”

With his short brown hair, straight nose, and strong jawline, it was definitely a nice face, but that didn’t change the fact that their matchmaking company had dozens of clients who were equally good-looking, some of whom were even pretty high-profile.

So the question remained—what was the big effing deal about this guy?

She threw the paddle into the air again and took a long sip of water before continuing. “I don’t get why you couldn’t ask anyone we’ve ever worked with.
Anyone
else?”

“I have my reasons.” She wore that shifty, guarded look, and Serena knew she wouldn’t get any more answers from her now. Maybe, along with her matchmaking superpowers, Grace had developed a Spidey sense for good publicity and just knew this was the guy for them. Either way, her friend didn’t ask for much, so when she did, Serena would do anything in her power to help her get it. For now she’d have to let the subject drop.

The shrill voice of the woman across from them sounded again, interrupting her thoughts.

“Maybe you should stop bidding and put your money into suing the doctor that botched your boob job instead,” she hissed. This time her target was Serena.

“Maybe I could donate it to your charity fund instead. What was it? Tits for Twats?”

The woman glared at her and raised her paddle in the air.

Serena raised hers just as fast, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue while she was at it.

“Are you paying attention to the numbers?” Grace whispered under her breath. “We can’t go over thirty-five hundred. That’s all we’ve got.”

“I see thirty-two, can I get thirty-three?” the pretty female auctioneer called.

“Aw, running scared, girls? That’s good. Bryan needs woman, not a dog and a bone.” The other woman’s eyes twinkled with evil glee and she smiled, waving her paddle with an extra flourish.

Oh,
hell
no.

Not only did she need to save this poor bastard on stage from a woman who was clearly capable of ending their date by strapping him to a sacrificial altar and preserving his body
Psycho
-style for her future enjoyment, but it was personal now. If this girl wanted to throw down, Serena was happy to join her in the gutter.

But how to get past the bidding cap of thirty-five hundred?

She couldn’t touch the trust fund her parents had left her. She wouldn’t come within ten yards of that thing unless she needed to fund a space mission that would help the U.S. government avoid an extraterrestrial attack. Personally, she still had some money her grandmother had given her before she’d passed away, and her own meager savings from her salary at the company, but she knew from experience, it would be like pulling teeth to get Grace to accept it.

And even if she managed to do that, in spite of her knockoff dress, the other woman’s funds seemed limitless. If Serena was going to beat her out, she’d have to come up with a plan B. What could the hospital use that was as valuable as cold hard cash? It clearly didn’t need matchmaking services…but it could probably do with a venue to host these little charity functions, and she had just the place.

She stood and then climbed on top of her chair, waving her paddle to catch the toga-clad auctioneer’s attention.

“Permission to approach the bench?” she shouted.

“Uh…” The auctioneer looked like a deer in the headlights and shrugged. “It’s not really a bench, but—”

Serena cut her off. “Whatever. I will allow the foundation to host its next two gala or charity events at my home, the Elliott estate, if you close the bidding now. I’d also give three thousand dollars toward the foundation, of course.”

It was a good offer. Actually, a great offer. Serena’s family estate—the other thing her grandmother had left her—was well known in Salem and could handle a party of five hundred, if need be. A place even close to comparable would cost the hospital in excess of ten thousand dollars for a night, and she’d offered two nights.

The auctioneer’s brows rose and she held up a finger. “I’ll…be right back!” She started to scurry backstage as the room broke into excited chatter, but she’d barely taken two steps when a sturdy, elderly woman at the table full of hospital board members jumped up and shouted, “Sold!”

Crazy bitch from across the table squawked, but now that the spotlight had swung toward them, she ramped down the psycho and sat, fists clenched, face ruddy with rage, but quiet.

The auctioneer headed back to the lectern and banged her gavel once, a grin lighting her pretty face. “Excellent, thank you Chairwoman Spencer, and thanks to you, Ms. Elliott, for your more than generous donation.” The closing remarks continued on, but Serena tuned them out.

Her mission here was complete.

Hasta la vista
, baby. She smirked at her fallen competitor and grabbed Grace’s hand.

“Oh my God, you rock!” her friend said, beaming. “That was genius. Thank you!”

“Glad you’re happy. Now let’s get the hell out of Dodge before Loony Tunes Magee here follows us.” She pulled her friend along to the backstage, where all the winners were being ushered in to collect their prizes for the night.

The auctioneer led them to a waiting room, and Serena glanced at her watch. “Okay, looks like my work is done here. You crazy kids have fun on your little date. And be good. Trick’s at home waiting for you, and he’ll spank you if you’re bad.” She shot her friend a wink. “I’m going to go curl up and watch five hours of
Million Dollar Listing
before passing out in front of my TV. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

She grinned at her friend, but Grace grimaced in response.

Uh-oh.

“What?”

“I’m rethinking this plan,” Grace said, and then started chewing on her bottom lip.

“You’ll be fine. You’re a great businesswoman. Once you have his undivided attention, I’m sure he’ll cave.” Her stomach was wriggling in a way that let her know some shit was about to go down. Grace might be magic when it came to matchmaking, but Serena’s instincts when it came to impending clusterfucks was legendary, and something felt seriously off here.

Grace shook her head. “He doesn’t like me. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m annoying. I’ve already tried a bunch of times to get this guy on board, and he won’t listen to me. I wonder if it’s time to bring out the big guns?”

“Like torture? Because I have some pliers if you need them.” Serena raised her eyebrows, sensing where this was going but refusing to bite.

“Not exactly. I was just thinking. You don’t have any plans tonight. Maybe he’d be more willing to listen to a young, single blonde with radiant charm—”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

And it was true. Sure, she had a way of getting what she wanted most times, but she wasn’t the one who wanted Bryan Metcalf. Surely the sheer passion and determination Grace had shown would have to net better results than anything Serena could do to convince him.

“I’ve called him a bunch and now he won’t even answer the phone. I’m pretty sure I’ve worn out my welcome, but you’re fresh meat. Look, all I’m saying is that you have a much better shot than I do. Plus, Trick just got back from a week of training new SWAT recruits at the academy. Come on, Serena, take one for the team.” Grace’s brown eyes went soft and pleading. “How bad could it be? Five-course dinner, a limo ride, the works. It’s one night out of your life. For the business? For me?”

Wow, the friend guilt. Hard core.

Still, maybe Grace was right. She’d go out, have some drinks, and try to charm the doctor. Then she could go home and have her HGTV marathon. No big thing.

After all, it wasn’t like one night was going to change the rest of her life.

Chapter Two

Close. Call.

His pulse was still pounding from the adrenaline rush of the near miss. Right when he thought all was lost, “Ms. Elliott” had swooped in and brought it home. He’d heard of the Elliott family growing up, and knew of the estate, but didn’t know them personally. He definitely would’ve remembered that blonde. She was a stunner.

He took another glance around and straightened his tie, wondering who his date for the night would be, her or Grace Love, when a sharp elbow to the side railroaded his thoughts as people pushed past him.

“Sorry, buddy.”

It was pandemonium backstage, with his fellow bachelors pairing off with their prizewinners like animals on Noah’s Ark. Now that they’d all had a chance to change back into their street clothes and were all in spitting distance of the winners, there was an overwhelming sense of relief, except from that one guy whose grandmother had bid on him and won. That was bound to be an awkward candlelit picnic on the beach.

“Bryan, nice to see you again.” Grace Love headed toward him, her blond companion by her side.

“Hi, Grace. Who’s your friend?” He offered his hand to the other woman, and she took it, a blindingly white smile playing across her full, pink lips.

“I’m Serena Elliott. Grace’s business partner. I’ll be your date for tonight.”

Business partner. Shit. “I see,” he said, pumping her hand once. She was hot, but if she was even half as relentless as Grace, it was going to be a long night. He’d thought he’d dodged a bullet with Piper, but now he wasn’t so sure. Better to let them know now so Grace didn’t get her hopes up.

“Listen, I appreciate you guys bidding, but I—”

“Bryan, hi.” The voice was wispy, high-pitched, and so close that he could feel hot breath on the back of his neck.

Piper.

Oh good, they were all in one place. Like the three horsemen of the manpocalypse.

He took a steadying breath and turned to give her a tight smile. “Piper.”

Her wild eyes shot from his face to his hand—which was still clutched in Serena Elliott’s.

Fuck it. He was Indiana Jones, and this boulder of crazy was hurtling toward him. He needed a vine, and Serena Elliott was it.

He closed his hand more tightly around hers and pulled her closer.

To her credit, she didn’t pull away, or even so much as blink. One point in her favor.

“What were you saying? You appreciate us bidding but…” Grace prompted him, glancing from Piper to him with a satisfied grin.

Damn her. She might look sweet, but she was crafty, and she probably thought she had him by the balls now. He’d take the hand up and try to repay the favor somehow, but it sure as shit wasn’t going to be by pimping himself out as the public face of their company.

“I was saying that I appreciate you bidding, but why buy the cow when you can get the steak for free, sweetie?” He wrapped his arm around Serena’s trim frame and squeezed.

He was just wondering if he’d pushed his luck too far when she patted his ass in response.

“And what a cut of meat it is, darling. But I wanted to support the hospital.” She gave him a toothy smile and he wasn’t sure if it was flirtatious or adversarial, but either way, it made him grin in spite of himself. Maybe a few hours alone with her wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“I’m so glad you paired us up, Grace. I couldn’t ask for a better gal.”

Piper gave Serena a glare that would curdle milk and cleared her throat. “Right. Um, Bryan, I was just wondering if I’d see you at the reunion? And I’ll definitely see you at the wedding, right? I wanted to ask Q, but she never answers my calls.” Her tight smile went even more brittle. “Or my texts. Or my letters.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed a sigh. That was the one bad thing about being back home. Piper lived in the same town and, as the stepdaughter of one of his cousins, she was at half their family functions. He was bound to see her more than once while he was in town, and she was bound to act exactly like she had tonight.

Suddenly, heading back to Afghanistan early didn’t seem so bad.

“I’m not sure if we’ll be able to make it to that wedding. We’ve got so much to do, what with our trip to Cancun coming.” Serena gave a sad shake of her head and reached out to the other woman. “You’re a doll for asking, though. We’ll be sure to let you know.”

“I—” Piper spluttered, but Serena cut her off again.

“We really need to be getting on with our date. Have a great night.”

Serena entwined her fingers with his again, said a quick good-bye to Grace, and guided him through the crowd and out the back door of the auditorium. The summer’s breeze wafted over them as they walked to the edge of the sidewalk, past all the Dumpsters.

By tacit agreement, they both stayed silent until they reached the corner.

Serena looked around and nodded. The coast was clear.

“That,” she breathed, “is one crazy ho. We’ve got to get in the car before she spots us. I’d put money on her following us on our date and dressing as a restaurant chef in hopes of slipping some arsenic into my food.”

“Agreed. The limos are supposed to pull up down here.” He guided her to the place his sister had shown him before the auction. Just as Q said, the limo was already there.

“Nice ride.” Serena climbed into the back of the car and settled onto the leather cushions. The dim lighting made the beads on her dress shimmer, drawing that much more attention to her breasts, and he struggled not to stare.

Apparently Grace Love wasn’t messing around anymore. She’d found him at the auction and had opted to send in the A team to convince him to fall into line with her master plan. It wasn’t her fault that he wouldn’t be so easily swayed. Though the way the second-skin fabric of Serena’s dress clung to her made him seriously question the strength of his convictions.

“So, is this the new round of guerilla tactics?” he asked, opting for honesty straight out of the gate. “I hate to tell you, but I don’t think it’s going to work.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Serena ran her long, delicate fingers over the icebox beside them. A bottle of champagne sat there on ice, already popped, two glasses nestled in beside it.

“So you mean to tell me you and Grace Love, who has been hounding me daily, just happened to show up for tonight’s bachelor auction? And that you spent three thousand dollars and opened your home to a pack of strangers in order to have dinner with me tonight?”

“Correction,” she said with a snick of her tongue. “I opened my home to a pack of strangers so that you weren’t ax-murdered by Serial Killer Sally back there. Sue me for being a concerned citizen. Care to share what the deal is with that?”

“She’s an ex,” he said flatly, like that said it all.

“No kidding.” She snorted loudly, a sound totally at odds with her picture-perfect appearance. “What did you do to her to make her…
that,
though?” She circled her finger in the air in the international symbol for crazier than a shithouse rat.

He tilted his mouth in a half grin and raised his eyebrows. “I’m more of a show-er than a tell-er.”

And, if he was being honest with himself, he’d be happy to show her. Now. In the car, if need be. That tiny skirt and those mile-long legs were driving him nuts. Even with all the space in the limo, the smell of her perfume—vanilla and lavender—made his brain go soft and the rest of him go hard.

“Boys,” she said, rolling her beautiful eyes. “Always thinking they’ve got something extra-special working. I hate to break it to you, Doc, but a dick is a dick. I can’t even fathom what you could’ve been doing with yours that would make a woman behave the way that one did.”

“And like I said, talk is cheap. It’s more something that has to be experienced.” As much as he’d dreaded tonight’s date, this little lighthearted exchange was the most fun he’d had since he gotten back to Salem two weeks before. He wasn’t one for relationships, but banter with a bright and bawdy woman who was gorgeous on top of it? That was a pretty good way to spend a night in his book.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she sniffed, and folded her hands on her lap. “So long as we both know, I saved your ass back there.”

“Right. And you were just telling me how you did it from the goodness of your heart.” He ran a hand through his hair and groaned inwardly. Might as well get it out of the way now. Maybe they could enjoy the rest of the evening. “Look, I told you about Piper. She and I dated like nine years ago. I was barely out of high school, and she’s still stuck in the past. That’s the whole story. Now it’s your turn to tell it like it is. You want me to promote your company. That’s the only reason you’re here, right?” He sat back, fully expecting her to launch into the same song and dance he’d heard from her business partner five times over, but some little part of him hoped that just maybe…

For a second, she looked like she was about to deny it again, but then she blew out a sigh. “Frankly? Yes.”

Well, that sucked a bag of dicks, didn’t it? Visions of hot limo sex fizzled away like the bubbles in his champagne.

She pinned him with her intense blue gaze and leaned toward him. “We’ve looked over your files, and since this is a small-town operation, we think you’d be the perfect candidate. You’ve got credit with the community, a well-respected family, and your name is always plastered all over the town diner for one thing or another. Grace thinks you’ve got the face to pull in more clients, and she wants you to be our guy.”

“Let me make this clear, then. I’m not interested in getting ‘match-made’ or whatever you’re calling it. Not now or ever. My sister signed me up for your company and others like it while I was deployed, and I’ve paid the price for that ever since I stepped foot back in Salem.”

“There are no other companies like ours,” she said with a stubborn lift of her chin. “Say what you want about Grace, but she’s got something special. She’s a matchmaker right down to her soul. Surely you haven’t lived in Salem your whole life without believing a little in magic? Well, Grace is magic. I swear it.”

She eyed him and crossed her arms over her chest, pressing her breasts to swell against the neckline.

He swallowed hard and tore his gaze away to meet hers, ignoring the insistent pull in his groin that wouldn’t seem to quit.

“I may live in Salem, but I sure as shit don’t believe in magic, or matchmakers. And the last thing I want to do is spend my evening listening to the reasons I should let love into my heart and allow you guys to fix me up.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough. If I hadn’t seen Grace work, I don’t know that I would’ve believed it myself.” She plucked up her glass and took a sip of champagne before facing him again. “Look, what do you say we meet halfway? We have a fun, easy night, and then, when it’s over, you give me fifteen minutes of your time. Fifteen minutes of open-minded discussion. That’s all I’m asking. And we’ll never bug you again.”

As the limo pulled up outside a dimly lit Italian bistro right on the Massachusetts Bay, he didn’t even think about his response. It was a no-brainer. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

It sounded like the perfect solution to an otherwise wasted evening. He’d give her the requested fifteen minutes, but it wouldn’t do any good. He’d made his mind up long ago—sex and companionship when he needed it was more than enough to fuel him until he was free of the military. Nobody could convince him otherwise. Not Q, and certainly not this woman, no matter how great her ass looked as she bent over to climb out of the car.

He followed her out and hurried ahead to open the door to the restaurant for her. If he played his cards right, maybe he could even avoid that conversation altogether. A little wining and dining, and some of the old Metcalf charm, and she’d be too focused on him to think about anything else.

He’d make sure of it.

…

Piece. Of. Cake.

Serena had planned on doing whatever she had to in order to get the job done, but she had no idea it would be this easy. Bryan hadn’t taken his eyes off her the whole ride over, and damn if he had even bothered to try.

So what if he didn’t believe in their service? She hadn’t either, at first. It was only after seeing Grace’s unerring tingles in action that she’d bought in. Even now, she wasn’t a total convert. Grace believed everyone had a match, but Serena knew better. Love wasn’t for everyone. Her own personal life was evidence of that. She preferred to keep her relationships short and to the point. Too bad a little short and to the point wasn’t on the menu with Dr. Metcalf tonight. Grace would kill her for muddying the waters with him, but she could sure use a physical.

She bit back a grin and followed him into the little barn-style room. There sat only one table and two chairs on the wide-planked oak floor. A single candle lit the table, while twinkling lights created a charming ambience. Damn if that hospital crew didn’t know how to plan a date.

There was even another bottle of champagne chilling beside their table. She walked toward it and hardly noticed that he was standing there, waiting for her, chair already pulled out.

Nice.

He popped open the bottle and poured some champagne into each of their glasses. By the time he sat, a waiter appeared, as if from nowhere, with their first course.

“Roasted quail with a plum reduction.” The maître d’, all trussed up in a penguin suit with a fancy handlebar mustache to top it off, flourished a hand toward their dishes then turned on his heel and left.

“They don’t joke around here.” She poked a finger at the toasted golden skin of the delicate bird, and her mouth watered. She’d grown up seeing food like this served to the men around her, but had been trained at an early age to look but not touch. Even now, after breaking free from the influence of her parents, she typically ate bran flakes from a box or super-bland foods like poached chicken breast and steamed veggies.