Page 10 of Miss Matched

Luring.

Consuming.

“What about you, Kennedy?” he asks, snapping me out of it. “Have you ever been swept off your feet?”

I smile and nod. “Sure.”

Zac’s Adam’s apple bobs with a nervous swallow at my response.

“But my one true love is my business,” I say. “And I’m told that doesn’t count.”

A relaxed breath escapes Zac’s lips, and I’m satisfied to see the relief that floods through him.

“I disagree. To business.” Zac holds up his glass and taps it against mine.

“To business.”

We pause there, rims touching, eyes locked. I’m not sure if he feels what I’m feeling, but I want to throw my martini to the floor and wrap my legs around his waist. Let him carry me upstairs and do all the things I’m sure a man like him is well versed in. Feel those large hands explore every aching inch of my body. Push my problems aside and get lost in him.

Do I want a relationship with someone who gets off on breaking hearts like he undoubtedly does? No. But shake free some of this tension?

I’ve had worse ideas.

I down the last of my drink and stand, balancing on shaky legs.

“I should get back,” I say, finally breaking our stare. “My assistants are probably wondering if Chad murdered me in the bathroom at this point.”

“Wouldn’t want them sending a search party,” Zac agrees, standing, and I realize how tall he is. An overwhelming mass of solid muscle. Turning away, I take a few steps before spinning to face him again.

“Try not to let the tabloids get you down,” I tell him, knowing I should probably have just kept my mouth shut.

“You saw the article?”

I nod. Seattle can be both a big city and a small one, depending on the circles and how much shit you’ve stepped in.

“That’s why Seattle’s hottest bachelor is hiding out at a random hotel bar on a Friday evening, right? Dodging the masses?”

“There you go calling me hot again,” he says with a fleeting grin, and I roll my eyes.

“Be careful with that ego before you hurt yourself trying to fit through a doorway,” I shoot back.

Zac smiles, taking a step closer. Then another. A hit of his sandalwood cologne nearly knocks me off my feet.

“Do you believe it?” he asks when he’s close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. A wrinkle creases between his eyebrows, and I suspect there is a lot riding on my response.

Honestly, I hadn’t thought about whether I believed the article or not. When I read it, Zac was just another nameless face. A rich boy drawn to scandal. But, looking in his eyes now, I’m not sure what to think of what I read.

The man in front of me and the man in the article feel like two different people entirely.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” I decide, and his eyebrows furrow. “I don’t judge a person based on grossly exaggerated headlines. Besides, a writer friend once told me that at the end of the day, fact and fiction are irrelevant. All that matters is what you hold on to and what you let go of. So, hold on to the good.”

I watch him mull that over, his beautiful green eyes darting to my lips.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, reaching for my hand. Lifting it to his mouth like Mark did, except Zac’s kiss lights a trail of fire that spreads the moment it connects with my skin. “Nice to meet you, Cupid.”

“You too, Zac.” It’s so quiet I’m not sure it even comes out as I pull my hand away. Turning back to the ballroom, it takes my full force to put one foot in front of the other. To walk away from the first man in a long time who has made me curious to stay.

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