The Novel Free

The Matchmaker's Playbook



She gawked. “You actually came back to school? After that?”

“Chew with your mouth closed, please. It aids in digestion. And why not?” I tossed the empty soy packet back onto the tray and started digging into my rice. “I wanted to complete my degree.”

“But—”

“We could talk about me, but you pay me to talk about you. So?”

Her posture went rigid.

It was a jackass thing to do, basically reminding her I was the wingman for hire, not her friend. I’d paid for her egg rolls, end of story. She paid me for my services, not my life story. Maybe I needed the reminder just as much. I didn’t share personal shit, the end.

Blake suddenly paled and slumped, folding into herself like she was trying to become invisible, only she lacked the superpower to pull it off.

“Whoa, what happened just now?”

“He’s here.” She spoke through her teeth.

“I know.” I didn’t turn around. He’d just walked in with DJ, a senior guard, and a few more guys from the team. “We’re doing a little recon . . . You’ve known him, according to your profile, since you were four, and you used to take baths together. Why are you suddenly shy around the guy? He’s seen the goods, sister.”

“I had no goods then!”

“You may have no goods now.” I shrugged. “No way to tell, considering how loose those damn shirts are. Are you even wearing a bra?”

“Yes!” Blake’s pale cheeks went crimson. “It’s a sports bra!”

“No,” I said in fake disbelief. “Tell me something I don’t know. I bet it’s white. I’m guessing Adidas.”

More blushing. “We need to go before he sees us.”

“And that would be bad because?”

“Every time I’m with him I act like one of the guys. I don’t want him to see me like that anymore. It’s bad enough that sometimes he still calls me ‘buddy.’ It’s time for more. I want more.” She slumped onto the table, leaning her head on her hands. “I want him to know I have boobs.”

“Need I remind you the jury’s still out on that one?”

“I do!”

“Show me.”

“No!”

“Do it.”

“We’re in public.”

“Fine.” I moved to her side of the table, scooting my chair loudly across the floor until I was thigh to thigh with her. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her against me. “I guess I’ll just have to cop a feel.”

“I will seriously cut off your fingers if you cop anything.”

“No, you won’t,” I whispered in her ear. “Just imagine it’s David.”

She tensed even more.

“Relax,” I whispered. Her hair smelled like Hawaii. Fresh flowers and suntan lotion invaded my senses. It was . . . refreshing. Slightly dizzying, in a good way. I lifted some to my nose and inhaled.

“Are you sniffing my hair?”

“Is David watching?”

“No, he’s eating.”

“Bastard must be clueless then, because no doubt he’s seen you. There’s only fifteen people in here. Okay, turn away from him, toward me.”

“I’m uncomfortable.”

I kissed her just below the ear.

A whoosh of air left her lips.

“Good. Relax toward me.” My right arm clenched around her while my left hand inched up her thigh toward her shirt.

Eyes wide, she watched my hand move until it slid under her shirt. Then her gaze met mine, like it was a scary movie and she was afraid to look.

It was exhilarating, watching her watch me. Most girls looked away, most girls just closed their eyes and screamed my name.

She stared right through me.

Eyes trained on mine. Eyes that trusted way too easily.

“Breathe,” I instructed. “In and out.”

Blake’s eyes closed for a few brief seconds before she opened them again and exhaled slowly.

My fingers danced along her ribs. I fought the urge to frown. Why the hell was she hiding her body? She was fit, really fit. Then again, she was an athlete. Her skin was soft, velvety. My hand reached the edge of her sports bra. I didn’t go underneath; that wasn’t my job. Actually, feeling her up wasn’t part of my job either, but I had a dual purpose.

The minute my hand came into contact with her bra, she sucked in a deep breath, her chest heaved, and her body tensed.

Holy shit. I kept my response on lockdown. Her breasts were perfect, and clearly they existed. The itch to feel more than a few seconds was enough to make my body throb. Instead, I slowly pulled my hand away just as David approached our table.

“Blake?” David was around six two, the current point guard for the Huskies. He had dark curly hair and dimples that I guess girls might find attractive. He was a bit on the lean side, but from what I’d heard, he was a nice guy. Really into his game, though, didn’t date, rarely partied, and liked to go home on long weekends. Yawn. “I didn’t see you.” His gaze fell to me. “Who’s your . . . friend?”

I stood, knowing full well that my height matched his perfectly, but out of the two of us, I could easily kick his ass. I had a football player’s body, and I’d worked hard to keep it that way even after my injury.

David’s eyes narrowed as I held out my hand. “Name’s Ian.”

“Ian!” DJ held up his fist. I bumped it. His fiancée was another happy client, one of Lex’s, not that he knew. “How’s it going, man?”
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