Page 55 of The Merry Matchmaker

“Mmm,” he said, drawing a circle on her palm. It felt so good.

Okay, she had to stop this. She freed her hand and took a drink. “Stef skis,” she informed him, making one last effort on her sister’s behalf.

“Maybe you should again, too. Frankie, you’re so full of life, just bursting to really start living it. I could help you with that.”

“This really isn’t going to work,” she protested. Not as firmly as she should have. Those tingles were spreading.

“You won’t know if you don’t give it a chance.” He slid closer to her.

“Oh, I think I have.”

“Not really.” He slipped a finger under her chin and turned her face toward his. “I’m not done giving you my sales pitch,” he murmured.

“I have great sales resistance,” she said.

“Yeah?”

He smelled like cologne, and his peppermint-scented breath was warm on her face. And, oh no, she couldn’t let this happen.

9

Brock’s lips caught Frankie’s, and the tingles spread...everywhere.Santa help her! She was in trouble. She was melting faster than whipped cream on hot chocolate.

What was she doing? She pulled away, trying not to look as stupefied as she felt.

He grinned. It was a very cocky grin. “How was that for a sales pitch?”

She had to admit, “Pretty good.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just pretty good?”

“Okay, very good. But, really, Brock. I just don’t...”

She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because he was kissing her again, his fingers threading through her hair. Oh, mercy. It had been so long since she’d been kissed. She’d forgotten how wonderful it felt.

But something was off. She needed time to think. She pushed him away. “Okay, we need to stop.”

He looked surprised, then he nodded. “Oh, yeah. Let’s go back to your place. Let me finish my sales pitch.”

With that second martini and her supercharged hormones conspiring together, she would probably let him. Not a good idea. She was in no frame of mind to think wisely.

She didn’t want to think. She wanted to be loved, to feel a man’s hands on her, to fall asleep in his arms.

Still. “We’d better quit while we’re ahead,” she told him.

His smile faded. “You are going to give us a chance, aren’t you?”

Take a chance on me.

She shoved the line from the old ABBA song out of her mind. “I need time,” she said. “I haven’t dated since...” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She wanted to cry again. Instead, she sniffed and downed the last of her martini.

He laid a hand on her arm. “I get it. It took me a long time to recover from my last breakup.”

He was comparing a breakup with his girlfriend to her husband’s death. There was more than an age gap between them. There was an understanding gap. They were planets apart.

“I need to go.” She scooted out of the booth, and he followed her. He helped her on with her coat, then walked her out to her car.

“Are you okay to drive?” he asked.

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