Scoring a Holiday Match (Mr. Match), Delancey Stewart [classic novels TXT] 📗

He read my unspoken words on my face, and then he glanced over to where the dress hung in a garment bag at the back of my office next to the couch. “You have a date!” He seemed strangely enthused about this idea.

“I, ahem. Yes. I am meeting someone.”

“Not the Jingle Ball?” he was almost bouncing out of his seat.

He knew about the Jingle Ball? “Yes . . .”

“You got matched! Me too, boss.” The grin that spread across his young face was bright and shiny, and just a little bit too big, considering my match was evidently not my match at all.

“Well, I hope it works out great for you,” I said. “But I need to get back to work. Go take that test.”

He leapt to his feet. “Sure thing. And I’ll see you at the ball. Hey,” he leaned toward me, “wanna go together?”

The ball was only a few blocks away, but for some reason I really didn’t want to walk in with PJ. At the same time he looked so hopeful. “Sure. Okay.”

“Leave at 4:45?” Why on earth he wanted to be punctual now, when he was at least twenty minutes late for work every morning, had me baffled.

“Yeah, okay.” Tallulah would be thrilled if I showed up right on time. I’d planned to be late myself.

Now, as I smoothed the sparkling dress down my hips, I felt a strange twist of worry inside. The man in the photo was not the average San Diego “dude” I was used to. He was burly and tough looking, his face giving away a hint of something else. And for whatever reason, even his photograph made me nervous.

“I am a successful, strong, independent woman,” I told my mirror.

It said nothing back, but a knock came at my office door. “Ready boss?” PJ called.

“Yeah, you can come in,” I called back as I stepped into my heels.

“Holy shit,” my assistant said when he stepped through the door and laid eyes on me. “I mean, wow.”

That did a little to make me feel less nervous. “So I look okay?” I’d wrestled my hair up into a chignon, with tendrils escaping around my face, and had doubled down on eyeliner and lipstick.

“You look amazing.” He nodded his head to enforce the point.

“Well you look pretty good yourself,” I told him, taking in the dark suit and shiny loafers. “Very handsome.” I wasn’t lying. PJ was a good-looking kid. Secretly, I hoped his match didn’t work out, though. He needed some time to figure himself out, maybe travel a bit.

“Let’s go,” I said, stepping to pull my coat from the rack.

“Let me,” PJ said, lifting it from the hook and holding it open for me to step into.

“Thank you.” A little laugh escaped me at the gentlemanly move.

Moments later we were outside, a wind carrying a December chill blowing in off the harbor. The ball was in one of the big hotels lining the marina, and it took just a few minutes for us to get there from the office. Downtown San Diego glowed around us as we walked, holiday lights glowing in many of the restaurants and shops at street level, and the buildings themselves shining in the fading light of the sun.

We gave our names at the registration table, and checked our coats, and then walked into a ballroom that twinkled and glinted in shades of red and silver. It was beautiful. There was a bar set up in the far corner, and I turned to PJ, “Want a drink?” I was pretty sure he was over twenty-one.

“Yeah.” The confident guy who’d walked me to the party had vanished, and PJ looked almost sick in his nervousness. We’d each had a number pinned to us, the same number our matches would be wearing. And PJ was scanning the thin crowd, looking for his match.

“Have a drink, and don’t worry about finding her yet,” I suggested. “Maybe she’ll come find you. In the meantime, just enjoy the party.”

He nodded with a weak smile. “Thanks, boss. I’m glad you’re here.”

I picked up a flute of champagne and a beer, and we moved to gaze out the windows at the marina outside, the boats bobbing merrily in the water. Many of them had been lit for the holidays. I felt a little glow of cheer ignite inside me—I’d been so busy at work I’d hardly noticed the season arrive, but it was impossible to ignore when wearing red sequins and surrounded by twinkle lights and trees. I was just about to ask PJ about the test I’d suggested he take today when a deep voice rolled over my right shoulder.

“Rose?”

I turned and met the dark dancing eyes of the man in the picture Lulu had sent, and I nearly dropped my drink as my knees weakened. He was in a tux, the dark beard cropped close to his face and those perfect lips posed in that same sexy smile. The man was at least a foot taller than me, with broad shoulders and a presence that was both imposing and somehow regal.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice as weak as my knees felt. I cleared my throat and tried to get hold of myself. I was not a shy twenty-one-year-old, dammit. “Yes,” I tried again, straightening to my full height. I remembered with embarrassment that I didn’t know his name. I was pretty sure it wasn’t “Crab Man.”

“I’m Ash,” he said, relieving me of my burden of confusion. “I believe we are matched for the evening.” He said this with a confidence that set something inside me blazing with attraction. It didn’t even seem to matter that I was a melting puddle of nerves—this guy was confident enough for both of us.

“Yes,” I managed, having now said two whole words to this man. The same word twice, actually. “Good.” Shit.

“Hi,” PJ said, stepping up beside me. For once I was happy to have PJ interrupt a meeting. “I work with Rose,” he went