Make believe match, p.1
Make Believe Match, page 1
Oliver Price followed the woman with his eyes all evening long.
Elbows resting on the rail of the patio overlooking an outdoor bar and firepit, he shook the last ice cubes in a glass that had been a scotch on the rocks half an hour ago. He easily spotted Jessica Lewis in the crowd below as she sidled around a lit fountain in the courtyard to deliver drinks to guests with a smile.
Even when he’d been engaged in party small talk with friends earlier in the evening, he found his attention veering back to the curvy waitress with eyes that shifted between blue and green, the color of a summer sea.
Just thinking of a set of irises that way—a summer freaking sea?—told him how unwise his reactions seemed when it came to the sexy server. It was also a bad idea. Because he’d felt her rapid heartbeat when her body had been pressed to his. Seen her cheeks pinken with awareness. And nothing about the way she’d reacted to him suggested she shared his views about purely recreational, no-strings sex.
No. His gut told him Jessica was the sort of woman who waited to indulge herself until after the third date. Or quite possibly until the chemistry was too irresistible to ignore.
Cursing himself for thoughts he had no business thinking, he pivoted away from the railing, telling himself he ought to leave the party. Before he seriously considered that drink with Jessica.
* * *
Make Believe Match by Joanne Rock is part of the Texas Cattleman’s Club: The Wedding series.
Dear Reader,
It’s always a treat to return to Royal, Texas, where there is always a new romance brewing—along with a scandal or two! This year is extra special in Royal because there’s a big wedding coming to town and everyone is excited to host the couple when a hometown son brings his bride to tie the knot.
Enter overworked music therapy student Jessica Lewis, who is only working the prewedding party to pay her bills, and successful CEO Oliver Price, who attends out of obligation to his friend the groom. Neither one of them is ready for a relationship, but when their worlds collide, they can’t resist the sizzling attraction.
They might have been able to walk away if it hadn’t been wedding season in Royal. But everyone has marriage on the brain, and soon Jessica and Oliver are faking an engagement just to keep the peace. Will they keep their pact once wedding fever is over?
Happy reading,
Joanne Rock
MAKE BELIEVE MATCH
Joanne Rock
www.millsandboon.com.au
USA TODAY bestselling author JOANNE ROCK credits her decision to write romance to a book she picked up during a flight delay that engrossed her so thoroughly, she didn’t mind at all when her flight was delayed two more times. Giving her readers the chance to escape into another world has motivated her to write over one hundred books for a variety of Harlequin series.
For my wonderful reader group, the Rockettes. Thank you for sharing my journey!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Excerpt from The Secret Heir by Zuri Day
One
Most nights, Jessica Lewis genuinely enjoyed her part-time gig as a server for a catering company. Even though she worked lavish parties as staff and not as a guest, she still soaked up the festive vibe of most shindigs around her hometown of Royal, Texas. It was her way of rubbing elbows, however briefly, with the rich and glamorous. Usually, while she delivered custom-ordered drinks to women dressed in clothes that could only be found on the pages of a fashion magazine or on a Milan runway, Jessica liked to imagine herself sipping a handcrafted cocktail while watching a sunset, a silk gown rustling around her bare legs.
Call her fanciful. But who could blame a woman for making the best of busting her hump to get ahead?
Tonight was not like any other work shift, however. Not with her family’s bad news weighing down her every thought since she’d spotted the bank notice on her mother’s bedroom dresser earlier in the day.
“Your order’s up, Jess.” One of her fellow servers, a senior at a local college who’d worked these kinds of jobs for as long as she had, nudged an elbow against hers to direct her attention toward the end of the bar.
The venue this evening was an elite golfing facility that integrated a technology experience into the game, providing air-conditioned bays for driving and putting. The private luxury suite and attached covered patio had been rented by Royal’s well-known Noble family for the evening. The Nobles were sparing no expense for this pre-wedding party as their clan geared up for the marriage of their son, best-selling author Xavier Noble, to Ariana Ramos, a successful actress and producer with her own lifestyle brand. Neither Xavier nor Ariana—Ex and Ari, to close friends and family—were in attendance tonight, as the soon-to-be newlyweds were based in Los Angeles, but that hadn’t stopped the Noble family from hosting events all over Royal as the big day neared.
Jessica had been following the local society news with interest. She’d even looked forward to working this party to put faces with the names of people she read about in the social columns. But after the blow that came from discovering the truth about her parents’ finances, Jessica couldn’t rouse any interest in the overprivileged crowd milling around the bar while their friends took turns with their golf clubs.
She tipped her face up toward an air-conditioning vent to help chill the sweat on her back, which had more to do with stress than the press of people all around.
“Sure thing,” she murmured on autopilot to her colleague as she glanced at the tray of five drinks, trying to recall who’d ordered what. “I’ll get them in a sec.”
The other server, a hulking dude named Matt who could have doubled as a bouncer should the position have been required, frowned down at her. “You okay?”
She gripped an empty serving tray tighter, remembering the number of digits in the balloon payment amount of her parents’ loan coming due in two months’ time.
She was so far from fine it was ridiculous. Especially when she knew her folks had refinanced their home five years ago to help with her college expenses. Why hadn’t they told her that they’d have to pay a criminal amount of money for that generosity during her undergraduate years? She’d been so proud of herself for working these catering jobs to afford her music therapy grad school degree on her own, but now she wished she’d been putting all of that money toward what her parents owed on their home.
How could she continue her expensive degree program when her folks were struggling financially? Her stomach cramped at the prospect of stalling everything she’d worked so hard for. But the idea of pursuing her own ends while her mom and dad lost their home was far, far more painful.
“I’m fine,” she said brightly, momentarily forgetting what she was even doing as a group of men attired in expensive golf slacks and polos cheered over someone’s shot. “Why do you ask?”
About half the crowd was garbed to play the game, while the other half wore suits or lightweight evening dresses. The evening was laid-back and elegant at the same time, with passed hors d’oeuvres from a top-tier chef and music from a celebrated deejay on the patio level.
Matt slid a tray of his own off the bar and lifted the well-balanced array of glassware over one burly shoulder, a white towel draped over his arm. “Because you said you’d grab those drinks the last time I told you they were ready—almost ten minutes ago.”
“Crap. Thanks, Matt.” Jessica edged around her coworker to get to the bar, racking her brain to remember where this set of beverages belonged. “I need to get moving.”
Because losing this job now, when she needed funds more than ever, would be irresponsible in the extreme.
The sounds of crushed ice being scooped into a glass, a champagne cork popping and the swishing of a cocktail shaker mingled with light laughter and party music, which had gone from light rock to a pop-and-country mix as a few people took to a dance floor on the upper level. But Jessica tried to ignore everything else but getting her job done as she laid aside her empty tray and slid the new drink-laden one onto her carrying hand.
Where did they belong? She knew one of the beverages was something weird and herb-infused. A turmeric cordial. And, recalling that, she remembered the table she’d been remiss in serving. Pasting on her best smile, she served four of the five drinks in short order, all from the same party. None of them seemed to have noticed her tardy delivery, as they were engrossed in a lively discussion of the leaderboard for the golf competitors broadcast on a huge high-definition screen over the patio. Then, turning on her heel away from the group, she wound her way through the crowd, trying to recall who’d ordered the final beverage.
A lone glass of champagne.
Peering back and forth around the patrons congregating anywhere near her designated serving station, Jessica headed for the stairs to return to the bar on the lower level.
And slammed directly into a wall.
“Oof.” The inelegant sound huffed from her as the air left her chest.
Her hand swiped fast through the air to try and right her tray, but it was too late for the champagne glass already
Because of course the wall she’d run into was a party guest.
A very male, very solid party guest. In a black silk suit that surely cost more than her car.
And, just her luck today, his extremely costly-looking suit now wore the whole glass of spilled champagne. Panicking at her gaffe, she took in the rest of him now. From his light brown hair brushed off his forehead to his green eyes and stubbled jaw, he was handsome everywhere she looked. Striking, even, with a look of mischief in his eyes and a wry smile playing about his lips as he assessed the damage.
And, possibly, her breasts.
But then, she was still plastered to him.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurted, backing up fast as her face flamed hot. The eyes of the whole party—the upstairs half of the crowd, at least—were still on them. “I’ve got some napkins.”
Setting her tray aside on the floor against the brass railing that went around the patio deck, Jessica straightened again and reached into the pocket of her black apron to withdraw a wad of paper cocktail napkins. The rest of the partygoers seemed to resume their activities, the attention fading from their head-on crash.
“No need, miss.” A smooth-as-butter baritone—maybe even a bass baritone—answered her, stopping her short as her hand hovered near his chest. “I can manage.”
That timbre.
The musician in her swooned a little at the plush, velvety sound of him, the weight of his voice anchoring the fluttery panic she’d been feeling about running into a guest.
“No. Let me help,” she insisted, needing to render aid when the collision had been all her fault. She’d been distracted ever since she’d arrived on-site. “Quick attention to a stain could be the difference between salvaging a garment or not.”
“In that case, I’d better act promptly.” Impossibly, he smiled at her as he set aside the now-empty champagne glass on a table recently vacated nearby. Then he withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket like a hero in a Regency novel.
Who carried handkerchiefs anymore?
This extremely handsome man with a bass-baritone voice that turned her inside out, apparently.
“That’s actually a much better idea,” she agreed, stuffing the cocktail napkins back into her apron before she took the white cotton handkerchief from him to better mop up the worst of the spill. “This won’t dissolve into bits when it gets wet.”
Wrapping the fabric around his lapel, she pressed the suit material gently with the cotton, her knuckles brushing the warmth of his chest beneath his gray button-down.
All the while, her words seemed to circle in the air between them, “getting wet” taking on new and interesting meanings. Making her self-conscious about touching him. Making her skin turn even hotter.
She stilled, feeling awkward all of a sudden.
Perhaps he sensed her sudden embarrassment, because he eased the cloth from her hands. “We wouldn’t want to dissolve into bits prematurely.”
Stepping back, she folded her arms, aware that her body was reacting in all kinds of ways to this man, and not just because of his sex-on-a-stick voice.
“Are you laughing at me?” She couldn’t read his expression, that wry smile still teasing his mouth now and then.
“Not at all.” He mopped at the fabric twice more and then pocketed the handkerchief, looking none the worse for wear. “Just smiling at the irony that the most entertaining part of my evening involved someone who is probably far too busy to accept an apology drink from me.”
His gaze took in her server’s uniform—a white shirt with a dorky black bow tie and a black skirt. Awareness made her skin tingle everywhere his gaze touched.
“You? Apologize?” She wondered if he really thought he was to blame or if he was just being polite. And what was this business about him finding their encounter “entertaining”? She couldn’t help but be intrigued. “It’s me who should be buying you the drink after I practically body-slammed you.”
“Is that what happened?” One light brown eyebrow lifted as he rocked back on his heels. “In that case, I guess I’m fortunate I’m still standing.”
He rubbed a hand along the front of his broad chest, presumably where she’d run into him. Did his body remember the feel of hers as keenly as hers recalled the shape and size of him?
They stood there for a beat too long. Smiling. Sharing something unexpected and unspoken.
A shout from the downstairs bartender—a call for more of a top-shelf vodka—shook her out of the preoccupation.
“I’d better go.” Bending, she retrieved her tray and tucked it under her arm. “Sorry again, Mr....”
“Oliver Price. Just Oliver to you, Ms....”
“Jessica Lewis.” She sounded breathless, but there was no help for it. Maybe he’d write it off as her having a busy shift. “Just Jessica to you, Oliver. And I finish up in less than two hours. I’ll make good on that drink if you’re still here.”
Surprise jolted through her as the words tumbled out before she could think them through. Even more surprising? She had no wish to withdraw the offer even though she didn’t have time for a relationship right now. She’d like to think her suggestion for a drink had been made strictly out of a desire to apologize, but she didn’t think that was all there was to it. Her life was jam-packed between work and school, and she missed the company of a man. What would it hurt to indulge in just this one drink?
With a quick nod, she darted down the stairs before he could answer. She didn’t want to know if he’d find an excuse to let her down easy. She simply wanted to make the offer because it was the right thing to do to apologize for spilling champagne all over someone.
Not because Oliver Price had a melted-chocolate bass baritone she could have listened to all night long. The fact that all her feminine senses were dancing didn’t have a damned thing to do with it.
Besides, the possibility of a nightcap with a hot stranger at least helped her think about something besides the doomsday news in that bank notice on her mom’s dresser. Although nothing would make her forget about what she needed to do tomorrow.
Because instead of paying her next semester’s tuition for grad school, Jessica would be diverting every cent she had to help her parents save the family home. Her dream of her degree—and the music therapy certification that came with it—would have to wait.
* * *
Oliver Price followed the woman with his eyes all evening long.
Elbows resting on the rail of the patio overlooking an outdoor bar and firepit, he shook the last ice cubes in a glass that had been a Scotch on the rocks half an hour ago. He easily spotted Jessica Lewis in the crowd below as she sidled around a lighted fountain in the courtyard to deliver drinks to guests with a smile, her hips swaying subtly in a fitted black skirt. And damned if he couldn’t pull his eyes away from her legs as she leaned forward to rest a brightly colored drink in front of a young woman seated with a rancher Oliver recognized from the Texas Cattleman’s Club.
Jessica shared a laugh with the couple for a moment, her smile wide as she whisked away empty glasses and laid fresh napkins beneath the new beverages. With her thick dark hair pulled into a ponytail that bounced on one shoulder, Oliver could see her profile clearly, her expression kind and interested as she spoke with the couple. And even though there were at least twenty people he knew whom he hadn’t spoken to yet at this party, he couldn’t tear himself away from watching her. The band still played on the lower level, a fizzy pop song attracting a crowd on the small outdoor dance floor. The scent of toasted marshmallows drifted up from the s’mores station below, a handful of fire tables lit so that guests could roast their own dessert concoctions from the comfort of patio furniture.
But none of that distracted him from watching Jessica. Even when he’d been engaged in party small talk with friends earlier in the evening, he found his attention veering back to the curvy waitress with eyes that shifted between blue and green, the color of a summer sea.
