Jo Leigh - Ms. Match

“Two rooms, please.”

“I’m sorry, sir. All we have available is a single room.”

Paul looked at Gwen. Then back at the reservation clerk. “We’ll take it.”

“Wait a minute.” Gwen pulled Paul back a bit from the desk. “We can’t sleep together…”

“Don’t worry,” he said, smiling before she had a chance to protest further. “You can have the bed.

I’ll take the chair.”

“Uh…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be a perfect, uh…”

“Gentleman?”

He pointed at her. “Yes.”

Gwen wasn’t worried – not about Paul, at least. She was tired from all the drinks and dancing. And she lacked a toothbrush. But before Paul got the key, the nice reservation man handed him two baskets filled with all kinds of necessities. Everything they’d need to get through the night…

Including two shiny condom packets.

Jo Leighhas written more than forty novels since 1994. A triple RITA® Award finalist, she has contributed to many series, most recently Mills & Boon® Blaze®. Jo loves that she can write mysteries, suspense and comedies all under the Blaze banner, especially because the heart of each and every book is the love story.

Jo lives in Utah where she’s hard at work on her next book. You can chat with her at her website, www.joleigh. com, and don’t forget to check out her daily blog!

BLAZE 2-IN-1

Fast, Furious and Forbidden

by Alison Kent

&

Hard To Resist by Samantha Hunter

Ready For Action by Karen Foley

Ms. Match By Jo Leigh

by

MILLS & BOON®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Ryan, who (thankfully) knows his sports.

And no, he won’t be allowed to read this book

till he’s forty.

THE COFFEE SHOP was crowded as always just before seven, a long line of men and women dressed in what passed for business clothes in Beverly Hills snaking through the small round tables and out the door. Paul Bennet considered skipping his bagel and heading straight to the office, but he’d only had a couple of Dodger Dogs last night for dinner and he didn’t like feeling hungry as he started his day. Not that kind of hungry at least.

Today would be a busy one. There was a new client on board, a television production company specializing in home improvement shows. They’d signed on to his public relations firm after being wooed by at least five other companies. But he’d done the final presentation pitch himself, and it had been a killer.

He bumped the arm of a young woman who glared up at him with fire in her eyes. The fire dimmed when he offered her a smile.

“Excuse me,” she said, a slight blush coming to her cheeks.

“No problem.”

She continued on her way and he silently urged the line to speed up. He could wait and ask Tina, his secretary, to order in, but she wouldn’t arrive till nine.

He liked to be the first in the office. In the quiet, he made his overseas and East Coast calls, went through his e-mail, did most of his real work. Once nine rolled around his day turned into a schmooze-fest. He shouldn’t complain. It was what he did best, the reason Bennet, Inc. was a success.

This morning, however, his first call would be to one Autumn Christopher. She would be in her hotel by now, relaxing with a drink and enjoying the view of the Piazza di Spagna.

He pictured her in her red-hot flight attendant uniform, with her long, blond hair pinned up primly. Her lips would match, scarlet and moist, but there would be no trace on her glass due to some feminine magic. That was only one of the ways she made him crazy. Like her smoky eyes when they looked him over from the ground up. The sound of her laughter. The fact that no matter what he did, no matter how charming, how lavish, how certain he was that he was on the mark, she simply wouldn’t sleep with him.

The woman was no dummy.

He’d always been intrigued by the chase. Up to a point. Autumn had streaked past that point into territories hitherto unknown. Why then was he still after her? By now, hell, months ago, he should have kissed her off and pursued other opportunities. There was a world of women out there, and being in Los Angeles meant a world of extraordinarily beautiful women, so what was the deal?

Finally, he reached the counter. He pulled out his smile once more, registering, barely, the response of the girl behind the counter. She blushed, glanced down, shuffled from side to side.

“Hi, Carol. I’d like an onion bagel, light cream cheese. Coffee, black. And I’d be delighted if you could add a smile to that order.”

Despite the fact that he used the same silly line every time he got a bagel, Carol always reacted. Flushed, flustered and yet she always hustled for him, which was the ultimate goal. He didn’t care for standing in line.

Quicker than it should have been possible, she returned with his order. “I put the bagel on the heat when I saw you two down,” she said, her voice just loud enough for him to hear.

“That’s what I love about you, Carol,” he said, handing her a ten, which included a generous tip. “You’re a treasure.”

She sniffed and touched her hair. “Thanks, Mr. Bennet.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He was out of there in two minutes and into the building proper. He leased an entire floor of the high-rise. The lower floors were mostly concerned with banking, but the upper reaches had a number of offices that were unique to the area. Movie production companies, advertising firms that catered to the movie business, a casting office, two accounting firms that handled motion picture clients. It was showbiz all the way up here. His firm, for example, handled stars, film equipment firms, production companies, one of the smaller studios and three different commercial houses. They also had some sports clients, a few publishing companies and five, no six, authors.

He opened the doors to the front office, decorated to the nines by a leading Hollywood set designer. The artwork alone had cost him more than he’d earned his first two years in the business. The space smelled of the fresh flowers that were delivered weekly and that indescribable scent of money. Nothing about his business came cheap, which was the way he liked things.

He carried his bagel and coffee down the hall to his office. Here, on the twentieth floor, he was rewarded with a phenomenal view of the city. From Rodeo Drive to the Hollywood Hills, on a clear day it was the picture of fine living. Sadly, there weren’t all that many clear days.

He sat behind his desk and turned on his computer. As he ate, he scanned his e-mails. Several needed quick responses, but most of them could wait. He was careful about his response timing. His clients tended to get greedy if he jumped on their queries.

A few minutes later, fortified by his admittedly meager breakfast, he slipped on his Bluetooth and rang up Autumn’s cell phone. Three rings, then her lovely, soft, “Hello.”