Free Breaking the Bachelor (Entangled Lovestruck) (Smart Cupid) by Maggie Kelley

to take it straight and smooth and steady, waiting for the exact right moment until—boom.” He tilted his beer in her direction. “Down and in.” He tossed her another wink. “Corner pocket for the win.”
    The tear of the candy wrapper served as her response, and she bit into the chocolate as if her life depended on it. Maybe she didn’t recognize a serious redirection of repressed sexual need in her chocolate craving, but he sure as hell did.
    She closed her eyes, chewed slowly, and swallowed, then ran her tongue along her lower lip, licking away some residual chocolate. He took a sip of his beer and inwardly winced. Touché on redirection of repressed sexual need. How long would it take to un-repress it?
    At least one thing was clear. No matter what she said, Jane didn’t like the idea of him playing it dirty with another woman. And he was fine with that. He was getting under her skin and he wanted to find out exactly how far he could push.
    He took another pull from his beer and tapped into his inner Salt n’ Peppa. Time to push it. “Dinner’s on the house, Jane. It’s the least I can do to thank you and your compatibility matrix for sending Summer my way. Do you know she used to be a gymnast? Yep.” He nodded and grinned. “She’s double jointed. All kinds of bendy. Apparently there’s this little trick she can do where she—”
    “Can I get a piece of that double chocolate cheesecake, please?” she asked, grabbing Aaron’s shirt as he passed by on his way to the end of the bar.
    Charlie hooked his foot underneath her barstool and dragged it close enough to bump up against his own. “She’s also a gourmet cook, too. Breakfast is her specialty.” Her bourbon eyes stared back at him, wide and tinged with green. Oh yeah, there was no denying the bit of good old-fashioned jealousy at the edge of those eyes. Hell, if she was getting this riled up thinking about him playing pool with another woman, it was only a matter of time before he had her. Hook. Line. Sinker.
    “Charlie, I’m sorry about the cocktail napkin.” Her gaze dropped to her red sneakers, the right one half-tied as it dangled over the bottom rung of the barstool.
    Damn those red sneakers. She’d gone and turned the tables on him. He’d been loving this God-given opportunity to awaken her little green monster and now those untied red sneakers were about to become his Kryptonite, a reminder of their past and what he owed her family, a cue to lay off, do the right thing, and forget about settling old scores.
    After a sip of her drink, she continued. “Taking off the way I did, not returning your calls…” She shook her head and looked over at him. “The point is, you deserved better and I’m glad my matrix found the perfect woman for you.”
    Yeah, his whole revenge plan had just Schwarzenegger’d it out of the building.
    Hasta la vista, payback. Epa chamo, friendship.
    Charlie held up his hand. “I didn’t say she’s the perfect woman for me. She’s gorgeous. We have loads of chemistry, and a shared interest in…gymnastics. But is she ‘The One’? Way too soon to tell. I don’t care how positive your matrix is.”
    “Don’t dis the matrix because you can’t commit. Your date tonight was a ninety-six point match.” The toe of her sneaker tapped a staccato rhythm against the bottom rung of the barstool. “A ninety-six point match is statistically perfect.”
    “She’s hot and everything, but let’s face it, any woman who refuses to eat hot wings—”
    “I arrange a dinner date for you with a woman who fits your criteria perfectly, and you feed her hot wings at the bar and you’re not sure about her?”
    “She’s a vegetarian, for Christ sakes. Even if there’s a lot of chemistry, that’s got to be a serious consideration.”
    “Matchmaking might not be enough for you,” she said, in obvious frustration. “You might need some kind of dating surgery. A brand new amygdala.”
    “An amygdala?”
    She nodded.