I'm not sure if it's the sunlight through the curtains or the unfamiliar feeling of another body in the bed beside me that wakes me up.

Lifting an eyelid and taking a minute, I revel in the soreness of my body that reminds me how my night ended.

Chris's arm is draped over my waist, keeping me pinned tightly against him in a tender but possessive grip that I find surprisingly comforting. It feels too good to move just yet so I stay there, watching the sun coming up outside my bedroom window and thinking about the possibilities that suddenly seem to have opened up.

This wasn't some random one night stand. I don't have to worry about shooing this guy out of my bed. I don't have to worry about whether or not I'll see him again or if I want to. The man with his arm wrapped around me right now, who was surprisingly easy to sleep next to, and who turned out to be the best sex I can remember having, is technically my fiance.

Wow, did that go from zero to 60 overnight.

I almost laugh.

A week ago I was utterly convinced I had wasted good money on a professional match maker who wanted me to marry a man that was an utter douchebag. This morning I'm waking up naked with him after a wonderful night out and and an even better night in.

This might work after all. Maybe Chris and I are compatible.

After dinner last night, I can start to understand what Raven sees that might make her think we'd be right together. After the sex? Let's just say, sex like that can make up for a lot of little things that might be left to disagree on.

Chris stirs beside me, his arm tightening around me momentarily before he wakes.

"Hey Beautiful," he says when he opens his eyes and focuses on me.

It's so warm and sincere. Different than the arrogant asshole I met last week.

I smile back at him, "Hey yourself."

"So do you want me to take you out to breakfast? Or cook it for you?"

"You can cook?" I laugh.

He pulls back and feigns hurt, "I happen to be an excellent cook," he assures me.

"Well good luck in this house," I laugh as I climb out of his embrace, "I can burn water. The only thing in the fridge is left overs and wine."

"Breakfast out it is then." He laughs as he climbs out of my bed.

I stop my progress toward the bathroom to enjoy the view as he rummages around the floor in search of his clothes.

The man really is exquisite. In addition to a face that's more suitable for television than his radio career and the sculpted torso, his thighs are thickly muscled and his calves carved like they're made of stone. I bet he runs.

And let's not forget that ass. I smirk as I watch him bending to reach under the edge of the bed and drag out a shoe. Yeah, his ass is a thing of wonder. I kinda want to drag him back into bed right this second but I know I have a ton of things on my schedule today, even though I don't have court.

Chris drops me off at my car where we left it last night after dinner when we're done with breakfast, promising to call me later and set up plans to meet up again. Maybe dinner at his place this evening, he says between kisses.

He looks good in his rumpled dress shirt this morning. The tie discarded, the buttons undone at his throat, a strong 5 o'clock shadow turned next morning stubble lining his strong jaw. It's an undone look that contrasts with his usual GQ-perfect appearance.

I like it. I like casual Christopher with the easy smile and the lightly taunting sense of humor. I could get used to waking up with this Chris. I could get used to spending my mornings with this Chris, and coming home to this Chris, and sharing my bed with this Chris.

By the time Monday rolls around, we've spent three more days together. Things are going well and even Kari is starting to soften her opinion of him.

"So he actually has a personality?" She asks when she meets me for lunch on Monday.

"Yeah, he really does," I answer with a laugh.

"One that isn't carefully constructed for his public image?" Kari lifts an eyebrow to go with her skepticism.

I nod. "Yeah, who'da thunk, huh?"

My sister shakes her head in wonder, "Wow. I didn't think it was going to go so well, sis," she admits.

"Really? Brent loves him, they're going to go play golf or something later this week."

"Yeah, but Brent loving him is different than you loving him," she tells me.

I think about that for a second. The immediate response, of course, is that it's true but it's the choice of words that gets me.

Wow, I think as I hug my sister before we head back to our separate jobs, do I love Chris?

I contemplate the possibility on my way back to my office. I've never considered myself the sort of woman who's ruled by her emotions. I calculate and analyze and-- dare I admit-- overthink things to death.

When I filled out Raven's application and committed to an arranged marriage, I didn't expect to fall in love with the man I married. I guess, I figured it'd be more of a marriage of convenience. Two compatible people entering into a mutually beneficial agreement.

I guess I figured that love would be something I came to feel for him out of friendship and shared experiences over time, but the notion of falling in love? That wasn't something I'd bargained for.

But here I am, after a rocky beginning for sure, but I think we're back on track even though we haven't actually discussed marriage plans beyond the reasons we each chose to go into an arranged marriage.

I'm still contemplating the L word when I get back to my office and open my email.

There's a message from Raven:

"Sorry I'm late in responding. I'm very sorry to hear the match with Christopher didn't work out. Although I had my concerns, I did believe there was potential for the two of you to discover a lasting bond. Please contact me at your earliest convenience so we can discuss alternative matches."

I laugh it off, remembering the email I sent to her over a week ago when I was still convinced that Chris was a narcissistic asshole who was only interested in a wife that would enhance his chances of advancing his political career.

Picking up the phone and dialing Raven, I'm about to let her know that things worked out after all when she launches into a heartfelt apology as soon as she answers.

"I'm so sorry to hear that Christopher wasn't open to the match," Raven's voice is all warmth and sympathy, "I have to admit, I did have some serious reservations about his ability to maintain an open mind, but I encouraged the match because instinct told me that there was genuine potential between the two of you....instinct is usually my most accurate measure, but it's not a hundred percent."

Raven's apology seems disproportionate to the email I sent her last week. I wait till she pauses.

"I just wanted to touch base and let you know that circumstances have changed since I emailed after our initial meeting," I tell her. "I've had the opportunity to get to know Chris better and I see why you felt we would be a strong match."

Raven is quiet on the other end of the line.

"I sent that email after our first meeting which, admittedly," I chuckle, "was not impressive."

"I see," Raven's voice sounds strained.

I've spoken to her on multiple occasions during our interviews-- Raven Swann has never struck me as anything but confident.

A tingle creeps up my spine. Something doesn't feel right.

"I received a call from Mr. Bennett's assistant this morning--" This isn't Raven's usual confident tone either, this is brisk and efficient. All business. Not the Raven I've worked with for the last year. "--he stated that Mr. Bennett felt that my primary recommendation of you as his best marriage partner was...insufficient."

Her voice falters on that last word, ending her sentence in a hitch of her voice that sounds like someone letting the air out of a balloon very suddenly.

"Oh." It's all I have.