Page 53 of Failure to Match

Very,verydifferent.

His voice had taken on a light, playful edge. Almost flirty. Which, combined with the dress and roses, could only mean one thing: this was another battle within our greater war, and Jackson was bringing out the big guns. The soulless heathen was being charming on purpose.

Which, I mean, if he was trying to prove that he really didn’t need a dating coach, I guess that made sense. But still. I wasn’t going to let him disarm me so easily.

“Jamie.”

“Yes?”

“Could you please open the door now?”

I was getting there. Clearing my throat again, I twisted the handle and calmly pulled. “You’re very impatient, you… know…”Oh.

Ohkay. Whoa.

Jackson Sinclair was standing outside of my suite wearing a custom-tailored tux.

Complete with a bow tie.

Which, you know, was fine. I was fine, the bow tie was fine, Jackson seemed fine. This was all very perfectly great, and it was going exactly according to plan.

I immediately forced my eyes up to his face, deciding right then and there that for the next hour, Jackson did not have a neck. He was neckless. Like Nearly Neckless Nick or whatever.

But, again, everything was fine. It was just a stupid tie, shaped like a stupid bow, looped around his stupid neck. Nothing special about that.

A slow, wicked grin crawled across his face when I met his gaze. “You wore the dress,” he murmured down at me softly. “I thought I’d have to fight you on it.”

“I agreed to play along for an hour,” I said, refusing to allow my attention to flick downward.

His smile touched the outer corners of his eyes. “You look incredible.”

I did. I really did. The Dress was working all its magic on me.

“Thank you,” I replied smoothly, ignoring the blush trickling up my neck. He was so symmetrically handsome that it was exhausting. I was already exhausted. “I didn’t have the right shoes to wear with it, though.”

“Ah. This might help.” He reached into the dark shopping bag I hadn’t noticed he was holding and pulled out a caramel box. “It would have arrived with the dress,” he said, fingers hooking underneath the lid. “But I didn’t have your shoe size on hand since you didn’t leave those at the bottom of my pool.”

Then hewinked. Like the whole pool incident was an amusing, cheeky inside story that we could laugh about now.

My heart did a funny little flip, but I managed to keep my expression as neutral as possible. That is until he peeled back the lid.

All my facial muscles promptly fell slack. Nude heels with an open square toe, wraparound straps, and tell-tale red bottoms. They were perfect. Quite literallyperfectfor The Dress.

“How… um.” I cleared my throat. Again. “How do you know they’ll fit?”

“I have my methods.”

I narrowed my eyes up at him, but before I could voice any accusations, he said, “I assure you that no one has entered this suite without your presence or permission since you moved in. Your privacy has not been breached.”

“Then how?”

“Maybe you should just let it go so we can get on with the date.”

“No.”

His lips pressed into a line. Then, as though we were the best of buds, he gently nudged my forehead with two knuckles.“It’s supposed to be a romantic gesture, Jamie. Allow me a little mystery, would you?”

I eyed him warily, then prodded the tissue paper to the side and glanced at the insole. “It’s the wrong size.”

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