Page 18 of Matched with the Player

“Did I hurt you?” Sticking to the main aisle where the light was best, Isaac began a methodical scan of the rows, searching for her vehicle.

“No. I was just startled since you didn’t give me a warning. You don’t have much to say, do you?”

And wasn’t that the beginning of the end of this parking lot relationship? Isaac had scared off more than a few women with qualities they’d diagnosed as everything from “inability to relate” to “freakish quietness.” So interludes like this one would only happen to him if a woman literally fell into his lap, as this hapless, hot blonde seemed to have.

Or she’d been paid to seduce his secrets from him. Being with her would almost make it worth selling out.

“Not really.” He needed to drop her off somewhere else, somewhere she belonged because she sure as hell didn’t have any business here, plastered to his side.

“Are you still mad about me wrecking your paint job? Is that why you don’t talk to me?” She leaned forward to peer down another row of cars and her breasts strained against the fabric of her sparkly dress.

Or, so he imagined since he kept himself occupied not looking at her.

“I live in my head a lot,” he explained, forcing himself to slow down even though he wanted to sprint. He figured he’d go with the obvious answer instead of trying to dress up the truth.

“What do you mean?” Her frown created the perfect pout, her lower lip full and glistening.

“I think too much. Half the time I don’t hear what people say, and the other half of the time, I’ll think I’ve answered them when I haven’t.” Although he’d been shockingly tuned into her since he’d discovered her trying to break into his van.

He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had so thoroughly claimed his attention.

“I wish the people in my life wouldn’t hear half of what I say. Fifty percent of the time I haven’t thought it out and wish I could take it back anyhow.” She brightened, pearly white teeth as perfect as the rest of her. “Now that I think about it, we’d make the perfect couple.”

“Ah. I see what you mean.” He shook his head and paused to take in the shape of a minivan at the end of one aisle but realized the rear window was too sloped to be a Caravan.

The parking lot was thinning rapidly, but he still didn’t see another vehicle like his in front of them so he guided her around to the back to search there.

“You do?” she said, surprised and – oddly – a little breathless.

Isaac peered over at her and was taken aback by the warmth in her eyes. A man could lose himself in that clear blue gaze of hers. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what she was talking about and he had to run back through the conversation.

“You said you wished people would ignore half of what you say, then proved your point by suggesting you and I would make a good couple.” Clever illustration, that. “Point taken.”

“Oh.” Her voice hitched and she cleared it, her hold on him loosening. “Yeah. Okay. I think I see my van.” She pointed toward another Caravan in the back row of the lot, far from where they’d started out. She pulled her cell phone from her bag with one hand and studied the screen.

Apparently, she’d finished conversing with him. Maybe he’d offended her when he said he didn’t talk much.

Then again, why would someone sent to learn his secrets allow herself to be offended? Shouldn’t she keep up her chatty patter to try and see him again? Talk her way into his house or his office? His bed?

He was bizarrely disappointed she didn’t at least try. She was the most interesting thing to happen to him in months. But maybe she knew he wasn’t fooled by her act. Had she really expected him to buy her story that she’d confused his vehicle for hers when she hadn’t even parked in the same zip code?

Isaac guided her down the row of cars to the van with fat rhinestones around the license plate. Yeah, no way she would mistake that girly grill for his.

“I can give you a hand getting in.” He steadied her while she searched for her keys, feeling strangely guilty for her retreat into quietness.

He should be grateful that he was sending her on her way, damn it. Releasing her, he saw a glint of tears on one cheek. Did her foot hurt that much? She clutched the cell phone to her chest as she came up with the keys.

Maybe she’d realized how badly she’d bobbled the task of spying on him. Steeling himself for whatever sob story she might concoct to go home with him, he simply pointed toward her keys and ignored the tears.

“Would you like me to open your van and start it up for you?” Now who was the chatty one?

“That’s okay.” Hobbling forward, she jingled a noisy assortment of keys and plastic cartoon characters, most of which were painted pink and covered in glitter. Then, unlocking her vehicle, he noticed a fairy air freshener swinging from the radio knob. And someone had modified the glove compartment so that every inch was covered in rhinestones. She’d taken a lot of time with the details in creating a cover as an ultra-feminine bombshell.

But even now that the door was open, she didn’t move.

“You’re all set.” He prodded, memorizing her license plate so he could have his security team investigate her tomorrow.

“My matchmaker quit,” she blurted, swiping away the tears on her cheeks. “My father is going to use his own and try to buy a man for me.”

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