The Matchmaker's Replacement

  I’d rather have her hate.

  Hate I could work with.

  Friendship could go screw itself.

  “Lex!” Gabs knocked on my bedroom door so hard I was surprised it was still intact.

  Rolling my eyes at my computer screen, I got up as slowly as possible and made my way to the door, careful to open it only an inch just in case she had a weapon.

  “Yes?” I peered through the crack in the door.

  She shoved her way through.

  “Of course, do come in.” I spread my arms wide. “What can I get you? Tea? Arsenic? Sex? All three?”

  Gabs opened up her leather jacket, revealing a low-cut white tank top. “Too slutty for Steve?”

  I blinked . . . then blinked again, more slowly. I’d always known she had boobs. Why the hell was she just now showing me? “Gabs, are you asking as a friend? Because I think you wandered into the wrong room.”

  She pouted. “Please? Just say yes or no.”

  “I’ll say this one more time . . .” I stalked toward her, backing her up against the nearest wall. “You ask Ian this shit. He’s basically sexless now that he’s with Blake. You ask me, and well . . . I may not play fair.”

  “Oh, Lex, when have you or I ever played fair? Do you even know what that word means?”

  I took a deep, soothing breath, then lowered my head. She gasped as I licked between her cleavage and then set my hands on her hips and slid them up underneath her shirt, cupping her breasts, weighing them, teasing them, taking my sweet time.

  Her mouth dropped open and then her head fell back.

  “My opinion,” I said, kissing the corner of her mouth, “is that you may kill young Steve . . . But this is your last date, right? The one where you fake a breakup in front of the object of his affection, only to make him appear like a superhero while she defends him?”

  “Huh?” Gabs reached for me.

  I pulled back. “Then sure, yup, that’ll do.” I slapped her ass and winked.

  “I hate you.” Her chest heaved.

  “No, you don’t.” I smirked and let my eyes take a slow tour of her body, down then back up. My entire body tingled with awareness. Sweet torture. “But I’ll be here. When you decide what you really feel . . .”

  “I’m never coming to you.” She crossed her arms.

  “Halfway . . . I’m always willing to meet halfway.” I reached for her, then jerked back without touching. “Have fun on your fake date, Gabs, and do make sure you fill out that progress report with more than one-word answers. Wouldn’t want the boss getting all . . . hot and bothered.”

  She took a step toward me.

  I took a threatening step toward her.

  Ian swore from the hallway. “Is there blood?”

  “Nah,” I answered. “But I sense a war brewing.”

  “Shit,” Ian mumbled.

  “So, what will it be?” I whispered to Gabs. “Meet me halfway? Or are you too scared?”

  “I’m not.” She was, I could see it in her eyes. She was scared to let me in, scared I’d let her fall, scared of everything.

  “Tonight,” I huffed.

  “T-tonight.” She straightened her shoulders.

  “Nobody likes a chicken, Gabs.”

  She licked her lips and leaned forward. Warm breath fanned across my neck as she whispered in my ear, “But everyone likes a bit of cock?” Sharp pain spiked from my earlobe as she nipped and then backed off.

  What. The. Hell? She’d bitten hard enough to pierce my ear. I forced a smile to keep myself from rubbing it.

  Gabs morphing into a vampire would have shocked me less.

  I grabbed her arm with every intention in the world of locking her in my room and never letting her out of the damn house, but Ian was right there, waiting in the hallway, texting someone on his phone.

  “Better not keep Steve waiting,” I breathed out, then mouthed, “Later.”

  She gave me a weak, noncommittal nod and sauntered away. Meanwhile, Ian gave me a middle-finger salute and left with Gabs, while my body sagged with disappointment.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Five

  Gabi

  I haven’t seen you in action yet. This should be fun,” Ian commented as he drove me to the bar where Steve and I would have our final meeting. “Remember, the last date is what solidifies the girl’s feelings for him. You have to break up with him while making him look like the better person, okay?”

  I nodded. “Right.”

  “So, everything okay between you and Lex?”

  My head jerked so far to the left, I was my own version of The Exorcist. “Sure. Why?”

  “He taped a Costco-sized box full of open condoms onto your door, so excuse me for making sure you aren’t pissed.”

  I waved him off. “No worries, I hid tampons in every nook and cranny in his room I could find. He’ll be searching for them for years. When he’s eighty and still lives in that same room and runs the entire universe from his computer, he’ll still be finding tampons.”

  Ian chuckled. “Lex hates girly shit. Hates it. Part of me wonders if that’s why he’s never really settled down. I swear anything that makes him think of cohabitation terrifies him.”

  “Oh?” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You mean, you don’t think he could ever . . . commit?”

  “Lex has never even owned a pet. Not for lack of trying. He killed our last goldfish, simply forgot to feed it. Remember that plant we got freshman year? I put it in his room, thinking ‘Hey, it’s alive, if we can trust him with a plant, we get another fish.’”

  “And?” I prompted.

  “A week later the plant died, and when I asked him to throw it away, that took five weeks because he didn’t have the time to mess with something so simple.”

  “But he’s not really a plant guy,” I said defensively.

  “My point”—Ian turned into the parking lot of Maybe, the bar where we were meeting Steve—“is that Lex doesn’t commit. Ever. His parents are legit mad scientists who grow opium for the government, and they’re also divorced and still fight like hell. He’s loaded. A certified genius who gets enough ass to keep him happy. Lex would probably convert to Catholicism and become a priest before he did something like settle down. The last thing he wants is to be unhappy like his parents.”

  “Ouch. Kinda harsh.”

  Ian frowned. “Are you defending the same guy you referred to as the Antichrist?”

  “No!” I held up my hands. “Just asking questions. You know how I get when I’m nervous,” I lied through my teeth. What was I doing? I knew Ian was right. But apparently I was a stupid girl because I was still toying with the idea of taking Lex up on his challenge. Tonight. The whispered promise burned through my brain, only to turn into a flashing neon sign with arrows pointing to it.

  I groaned.

  “You’ll be fine,” Ian assured me, like all best friends should. “Blake’s meeting us after her practice, so we’ll just be at another table, alright? Get in, get it over with, get out.”

  “Right.” I bolted out of the car, my mind a jumbled mess—and not because of nerdy Steve but because of stupid Lex.

  Stupid. Stupid. Lex.

  “Steve!” I smiled brightly when I saw him waiting at the bar. “You ready for a show?”

  “Yeah.” He was already sweating. “She’s been texting almost every day. You think that’s a good sign?”

  “Yes, according to our research.”

  “Yeah.” Steve called over the bartender. “Two vodka sodas.”

  “So!” I slammed my purse down onto the table. “You’re gonna pull that shit again?”

  “Uhhh.” Steve looked around. “Ga
bi, are you okay?”

  “What? You think I don’t know?”

  “Know what?” Guys were so stupid. I kicked him, urging him to play along.

  Frowning, he rubbed his shin.

  “I know she’s been texting you. Who is she?” Stella was working at the bar that night. She quickly switched places with the other bartender and moved closer to us.

  “She’s . . . my friend,” Steve said defensively. “So what? We talk.”

  “Well great, Steve.” I said his name all whiny. “You talk? And what? We don’t?”

  “You don’t understand me,” Steve whispered. “I’m sorry, but you’re just not . . .” He gulped. I knew it was hard for him to be cruel. “You’re not like me . . . you’re not like her.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? She’s who you want? Is that what you’re saying?”

  The girl was seriously going to rub a hole through the counter, she was scrubbing so hard.

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “I guess I’ll go, then.” I stood and turned. “You do realize you’re saying no to the best sex of your life, right?”

  “I highly doubt that.” He laughed while his ears turned a pinkish color.

  “Your loss.” I shrugged.

  The girl practically leapt to his defense. “No, I think it’s his gain.”

  “Whatever.” I sauntered toward Ian’s table in the corner. Blake was still in her game sweats and eating a pile of nachos. It was beyond me how she could eat like a guy and not gain a pound.

  Ian’s slow clap was encouraging. “Another happy client?”

  I turned back just in time to see Steve sucking face with the girl of his dreams. “Yeah.” I laughed. “Honestly, it feels kind of good, helping them out.”

  Ian’s smile turned serious. “I know Lex has been going over all the rules with you, but I want you to memorize the rules for dating and the top ten plays.”

  “Plays?” I repeated.

  Blake snorted. “Like The Gentleman’s Kiss.”

  “Huh?” I started frantically searching through the binder. “What’s The Gentleman’s Kiss?”

  “In your case, The Lady’s Kiss.” Ian leaned back in his chair. “Blake, would you like to explain?”

  “Get close, but not too close.” Blake chomped on her chip and swallowed. Then she picked up another chip and waved it through the air as she continued. “And then brush your lips across hers, but not forcefully, and make her lean toward you. The hottest kisses aren’t the passionate ones but the slow ones that allow a burn to take place, heating you from the inside out.” Crunch. She smirked as she bit down on the chip.

  “Who hurt you?” This I said to Ian as he rolled his eyes.

  “It’s easy.” Ian pulled out a giant binder and pointed to a few graphs. They had graphs! Why was I never given this magical playbook before? “Just memorize all the main plays, and if you don’t know what to do in a situation, reference the playbook. Always reference the playbook.”

  “Damn Lex.” I slammed the top cover down. “What? Was he spouting all this bullshit training to see if he could break me?”

  Ian was silent.

  Blake looked away.

  “Guys!”

  Ian held up his hands. “He wanted to make sure that you could handle the job without our help, which you clearly did. So . . . welcome to the team.” He held out his hand.

  “Why does it feel like I’m shaking hands with the devil?”

  “Don’t be dramatic,” Ian said as our fingers grasped. “We left him back at the house.”

  “Hah.” My laugh was weak, my knees wobbly as I collapsed against the chair.

  Blake scooted the guacamole in my direction. “Chip?”

  “No,” I grumbled, stomach suddenly upset. Stupid Lex, I was going to kill him. I’d kissed him to prove I could!

  I kissed him.

  To prove.

  I could.

  And then spent my valuable time following him around, hanging on every training word, terrified I’d get something wrong, only to find out I could have just memorized a stupid book rather than get thrown into the fiery furnace!

  “No way!” I jumped to my feet. “That bastard! He kissed me! Pushed me!”

  Ian cracked a smile. “It’s standard procedure with our clients.” He was clearly picking up on what I was pissed about. “We test their comfort in physical situations, ergo, the kiss. So Lex did the same with you as part of your training so you could experience it firsthand. Please, like Lex did that to make you mad. He probably took a bath in bleach afterward.”

  Blake and I glared in his direction.

  “Not because he needs to!” Ian said quickly. “Because he hates you.” He swallowed. “And now you both hate me?”

  Blake rolled her eyes and chomped down on more chips, still not talking.

  “No sex tonight, sweet cheeks?”

  She tossed a chip at his face, and what followed was a very descriptive conversation about how Ian had instructed Lex to train me—including the playbook. He’d made him promise to do the physical tests like they do with all clients, but I was supposed to get the playbook to help so I’d have notes to fall back on, not be floundering in an effort to prove myself for Lex’s entertainment! He’d basically made what should have been semi-easy extremely difficult! For his own amusement?

  With each confession, I winced further until finally Blake reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “I take it that’s not how things went down?”

  I let out a low growl. “Let’s just say I don’t have the playbook memorized.”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed. “But Lex said you’d been trained.”

  “Right.” I nodded, then grabbed my purse and keys and ran out the door, thanking my lucky stars that it was a busy night and the street was crowded with taxis.

  Lex had some explaining to do. Too bad I was going to kill him before he had the chance.

  I smiled the entire way to the house.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Six

  Lex

  The front door slammed.

  Stomping commenced through the house until it suddenly stopped. The hair on the back of my neck rose slowly to attention as Gabi appeared in the corner of my eye.

  The living room seemed a bit too small for both of us.

  “Gabi.” I nodded in her direction, then glanced back at the TV.

  “Lex.” She spat my name like it was the most evil thing to ever cross those lips of hers.

  Oh hell, there would be blood.

  She moved in front of the TV, hands on hips, eyes throwing ninja stars in my direction. “You bastard.”

  “Gabs . . .” I scratched my head. “Can we not do this now? Dateline’s on.”

  “Oh, you don’t want to do this?” Her voice rose an octave. “Here? Now?”

  I sighed. “Someone’s granny panties got a bit twisted on the way up, hmm?”

  “I don’t wear—” She clenched her fists and marched over, stopping right in front of me. Curling her lip into a snarl, she shoved my chest so hard I collided with the back of the couch. “You made me think I had to prove myself with only the training you gave me! You LIED!”

  “Well, you’re in college, and life doesn’t give you a manual for that—”

  “I’m going to strangle you!”

  A smile spread across my face. “Can I take a rain check? Erotic asphyxiation isn’t really—”

  “NO!” she yelled, slamming her palms against my chest. “You made me kiss you! You were basically waiting for me to fail with Steve! I was a ball of stress and nerves because of you! ‘Playbook’ ring a bell?”

  I burst out laughing. “
That’s what you’re pissed about? Gabs! I would train any employee that way; it was a test to see if you could take direction without the help of notes. You passed. Congrats. Now”—I gripped her by the hips and tossed her to the side—“time to watch serial killers.”

  She growled.

  I shrugged and kept watching.

  And then a couch cushion landed against my face, smothering me to death. I pushed back but she was on top of me, her fists pounding against the cushion.

  “That’s it!” I stood, grabbing the cushion, her little hands digging into it as she briefly dangled from it before crashing into the coffee table.

  “My butt!” she yelled. “It’s bruised!”

  “It’s not bruised!” I yelled right back. “Gabs, you fell half an inch.”

  She got up, rubbing her ass while glaring daggers at me. “Sleep with one eye open, Luthor.”

  “I’m disappointed.” I tossed the cushion to the side and changed the subject. “Not taking me up on my offer? Too . . . afraid?”

  “Afraid!” She cackled out “Ha!” and then limped toward me. Maybe she really had bruised something. “Maybe I’m just not interested.”

  “Aw, Gabs.” I reached for her body and tugged it against mine. “Everyone’s interested.”

  “I would rather punch your mouth than kiss it,” she spat.

  “I’ll let you do both if you don’t draw blood.”

  She drew back, jaw slackening, then sputtered, “You’re sick.”

  “Make me well?” I was only half joking. I thought she’d laugh.

  Instead, her face froze.

  “Gabs?”

  “You took care of me,” she whispered, as if she was upset over the fact.

  “Huh?”