The Matchmaker's Playbook

Blake didn’t want me to terminate her contract, because technically I’d held up my end of the bargain. David had noticed her, and in return, she could have had him.

If I hadn’t stood in the way.

She only had two days left, since we had changed the contract end date to her actual date with David to keep my record pristine.

Well, not exactly pristine. I did have a black mark, since I’d done the unthinkable and slept with her.

But being with her now was different.

She was different. My end goal wasn’t to hook up with her and leave. I wanted her for as long as she would have me. Hopefully forever.

Shit. I was already in deep.

I quickly grabbed my phone from her nightstand and started poring over e-mails from the last few days.

Vivian wanted to meet.

She had been in love with a guy named John since her freshman year two years ago, and Lex sent me his schedule.

And it looked like I had one more client starting the following week, who had spent the last three years pining over . . . yup, you guessed it, her study partner.

Seriously, nine times out of ten it was either the study partner or someone in their class that they’d creepily stalked. I was cool with it, but it usually meant I had to do a lot of groundwork. Getting the girl from being essentially nonexistent to suddenly on the guy’s radar was no easy task. And doing that while seeing Blake?

Well, let’s just say my methods were going to have to change, because no way was I going to be that guy. The one who pretended to be dating other girls while I actually had a legitimate girlfriend.

My hand froze over the text I was just about to send Lex. My breathing slowed. My chest tightened.

The shower turned off.

I stared at my phone harder.

And tried to remember to breathe.

Suddenly, Blake’s feet appeared in my line of vision. She waved in front of my face. “Ian? What’s going on? You look like you’re going to puke.”

“Are you my girlfriend?” I blurted.

Blake joined me on the bed, towel wrapped tight around her body. “If that freaks you out—”

“No,” I said. “That’s just the point. It doesn’t. Shouldn’t it?”

Blake shrugged. “Well, it’s not like you’ve been afraid of commitment. Up until now you’ve just been”—she winced—“screwing anything that breathed.”

“Nice, and here I thought you were going to lay me down easy and say something like ‘Oh, Ian, you were just waiting for the right girl to sweep you off your feet!’”

“Girls don’t do the sweeping. Surely that’s in your rule book.”

“Why do men have to do all the work?”

Blake smiled and then slowly untucked her towel and straddled me. “Is that what this is about? You want me to do some work?”

I nodded, afraid that if I spoke, it would somehow spook her into running away. I didn’t even touch her. I just . . . stared.

“So in order to be okay with being my boyfriend . . .”

Damn, the word sounded good on her lips. I was a possessive bastard like that, knowing that she was mine, that nobody else got to see her naked, that no other guy had pressed his mouth against hers. It was enough to make me want to shout in triumph.

“I need to . . . earn my keep?” she said.

“Your words, not mine,” I whispered in a cocky voice. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any maid outfits in that giant closet of horrors, would you?”

“Nope.”

“Damn.” I sighed. “Janitor outfits? Fast-food? Tell me you at least have a McDonald’s uniform, and I will bang you so hard you’re going to call me Ronald for a week.”

“You’re really weird.”

I gripped her by the ass and tossed her onto the bed. “Yeah, but you fed me, so remember what that means.”

Blake ran her hands through my hair. Her fingers went to my lips and lingered as she whispered, “I get to keep you.”

“Yeah.” I kissed each fingertip reverently. “I sure hope so.”

“Feeling insecure?”

“No,” I lied. “Just . . . different. This feels different.”

“Sometimes different is exactly what we need.”

“Yeah.” I kissed her soundly. “It is.”

I finally left Blake’s house two hours later, freshly showered and ready to meet Vivian at the HUB. It was our second meeting, during which I’d go over the schedule and see if she was okay with it. Hopefully, getting a good look at the guy she was interested in would help me gauge how fast he’d make it through the steps.

Vivian was sitting in Subway, chewing her fingernails and staring hard at one of the employees. He was a bit on the short side, wore his Subway visor backward, and said “yo” more than anyone should ever say within a five-minute period.

“Yo,” I teased, taking a seat across from her.

“He doesn’t even know my name,” she mumbled under her breath.

I ignored that. “Did you move out of your parents’ house?”

Her attention still fixed on the guy, she nodded and kept talking to me without making eye contact, which was borderline creepy. “I moved in with a good friend right off campus. I even cut my hair.”

“I see that.” She’d also discovered red lipstick and all the ways one could get it on her teeth by not properly applying it. “Vivian . . .”

She was still staring at John.