Tracy Madison - A Match Made by Cupid

“Right. Because he’s so friggin’ kindhearted.” She backed up and braced herself against the closed door. Knowing Jace, this deal was more about seducing her than helping her. He’d flirted with her relentlessly almost from the day she was hired, had asked her out repeatedly and hadn’t even tried to hide his interest. “Did you ask him what he expects to gain from this?”

“Doesn’t concern me what his reasons are. If they concern you, then you should probably ask him.”

Oh, she would. Right before she strangled him. The throbbing vein in her neck calmed while she considered how red she’d let his face turn before she allowed him to breathe again. “There is absolutely no backing out of this?”

“Consider him your other half. If you agree, the two of you will be spending large chunks of time together, so you might as well get used to the idea.” Kurt tossed her a half smile. “Though he does have some ideas about the feature you might like.”

“What? Ten surefire steps on how to entice women into his bed?” she shot back. “And what the hell does Jace know about love? I mean, has he ever been in a relationship that lasted more than three hours?”

“Have you?” Kurt asked, deadpan.

She ignored that and asked, “How am I going to have time for this along with everything else? I have at least twenty hours of work sitting on my desk and the week has barely begun.”

“Give everything to Joanne to redistribute,” Kurt said, referring to his assistant. “Does that mean you’re saying yes, Melanie?”

Well. She really didn’t have a choice, did she? “I accept your terms, even if they are lame and unnecessary. God, Kurt…I can’t believe you agreed to this.”

Kurt laughed, his pudgy cheeks swelling as he did. “Why wouldn’t I? For one, I don’t have to waste time interviewing candidates to replace you. For two, I trust Jace’s instincts.” Lifting his shoulders in a slight shrug, Kurt continued, “Somehow, I have an idea that the two of you will make an excellent team. You could learn a lot from Jace.”

Melanie nodded, swung around on her heel and escaped. She had a neck to throttle.

Chapter Two

Jace swallowed a large gulp of coffee and propped his legs on his desk, trying to display a relaxed, laissez-faire attitude.

All a front, of course.

Indifferent did not, in any way whatsoever, describe his feelings toward Melanie. Or his current mental state, for that matter. Flummoxed was more appropriate, though still not quite right. A word didn’t exist that accurately conveyed the maddening mix of confusion, attraction, yearning, irritation, hope, desire and awkwardness that even thinking about Melanie brought to the surface. So flummoxed would have to do well enough.

Jace figured the woman in question was set to storm into his office at any minute, likely with smoke pouring out of her ears and flames shooting from her tongue. When she did, he wanted to be ready. And that meant keeping his messy stew of emotions under wraps. Melanie needed to see him as calm. Collected. Worthwhile.

Muttering a curse, Jace downed another gulp of his too-weak brew. For sure Melanie was going to be steamed. Not the best way to begin any collaboration, especially one which he hoped to turn into a relationship.

Whoa, he warned himself. Don’t get carried away. He wasn’t prepared to commit himself to the idea of a bonafide relationship with a woman who barely gave him the time of day.

But he wanted the shot. Wanted to see if what he thought was possible actually was. No other woman had ever affected him the way Melanie did. After countless hours of consideration and many sleepless nights, the reason remained a mystery.

Jace, like many men, had a type of woman he normally went for. Melanie wasn’t only different from those women, she was a complete aberration. Stubborn instead of easygoing. Prickly and sarcastic instead of sweet and charming. And, more often than not, an utter mess instead of perfectly put-together. From shirts buttoned wrong to mismatched socks to tripping over air, the woman was a walking disaster.

Traits that shouldn’t, under any circumstance, have proved appealing. But God help him, he found every one of them endearing. Cute. At times, downright sexy.

Today was an ideal example. Singed hair—he had to wonder how she’d managed that—coffee-stained pants and, he’d noticed with some humor, one eye artfully shaded with cosmetics and the other eye bare. It took all of his willpower to keep from pulling her to him for a kiss.

He fantasized about her, for crying out loud. Which would be okay if all of his fantasies surrounded getting her into bed. He was a man, she was a woman. Those types of fantasies made sense, could be expected, even. But mixed in with those delicious imaginings were the mundane. Washing dishes with her, watching TV curled up on the couch together, and the most recent—going to the damn grocery store with her.

And that was only the beginning of the strange, wacko world he’d lived in since first laying eyes on Melanie Prentiss. She drove him crazy. He drove himself crazy thinking about her. And he didn’t have a damn clue what to do about it.

Jace went for another swig of coffee, only to find the mug empty. His eyes landed on the door, which he’d purposely left open, and then at his watch. It had easily been twenty minutes…so, where the hell was she?

A cramp hit his calves. He attempted to stretch his legs while retaining his laid-back, not-a-care-in-the-world pose and managed to shove his chair backward. His ass slid forward as if he’d slicked his jeans with butter, and before he could react, his body—and the mug—hit the floor with a combination crash-bang-thud.

He winced, more in embarrassment than in pain, and pulled himself up. Fast. And looked toward the door, half expecting to see that Melanie had shown up in the nick of time to witness his tumble. She wasn’t there. Partly a relief, partly a worry.

Jace picked up his mug, brushed off his bruised rear, ignored his bruised pride and retook his seat. This time, though, he stretched his legs under the desk. Safer that way.

Aggravated, Jace turned to his laptop and tried to focus on editing his latest article. He had plenty to do until Melanie arrived. Plenty to keep his mind occupied. He read the opening sentence and then glanced at the door. No Mel. He re-read the sentence and continued on to the second before his eyes slid from his monitor, only to see the doorway still vacant.

“Idiot,” he muttered.

He rubbed his hands over his face and returned his attention to doing his damn job. His role at the paper was rather varied. Sure, he was given assignments like any other Gazette employee, but Jace’s main gig was “Bachelor on the Loose,” a biweekly column on dating delivered from a single man’s point of view. In addition, he did a monthly write-up, “Man About Town,” that included Portland and the surrounding area’s hotspots, current events and anything else that caught his fancy.

This particular article wasn’t any of the former. It wasn’t a lighthearted piece. It wasn’t an interview with a local politician or a breakdown of the city’s economy.

No, the focus of this article was personal. The subject being his nephew, Cody, who’d died in a car accident a little over three years ago. Jace’s older brother, Grady—Cody’s father—had taken Cody to see Santa a few days before Christmas. On their way home, they were struck by a drunk driver. Cody had been five.

That first year, the loss had made it impossible to even consider writing about the accident, about Cody. Since then, though, the idea had swirled around in Jace’s brain until he had no choice but to act. Anger didn’t begin to describe how he felt that his sweet, loving, funny nephew had lost his life because someone hadn’t thought.