Free Mix 'N Match (No Match for Love) by Lindzee Armstrong

sorry I won’t be here to help.”
    “I’ll be fine.”
    Mitch nodded and walked to the door. “Call me anytime, day or night.”
    “I will.” Jasmine gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Try to have fun in Europe, okay? I’ll miss you.”
    “I’ll miss you, too. I expect a full report on the internship when I return.”
    “You’ll get it.” Her eyes shone with happiness.
    As Mitch drove home, he couldn’t get that bubbly, bright smile out of his mind. Maybe Jasmine would be okay in the end, and he really was worrying for nothing.
    He stayed up most of the night, carefully packing and repacking for the trip before getting as much work out of the way as possible. Sleeping on the plane would help him adjust to Paris time, and had the added benefit of preventing long conversations with Zoey.
    How bridezilla would Brooke turn if he got something wrong? This was so far outside his comfort zone, it was on another planet. Weddings had a way of changing otherwise reasonable people into screaming banshees.
    And Brooke was sending Zoey as his backup. He was doomed.
    Luke’s driver picked Mitch up right on time. He must’ve dozed off, because he jerked awake when the car pulled to a stop.
    The door opened a crack, and light spilled in.
    “Be careful with that bag, please,” Zoey said, her voice muffled by the partially closed door. “It has all my makeup in it, and I don’t want a powdery mess when we get there.”
    The trunk popped open, and the car sagged as a suitcase was placed inside.
    “Sorry,” Zoey said, still outside. “Those are my shoes. I couldn’t make up my mind what to bring, so it’s pretty heavy.”
    Mitch’s nose crinkled as he mentally went over their itinerary for the next two weeks. How many pairs of shoes did she really need? He’d packed three—his everyday dress shoes, special occasion dress shoes, and tennis shoes for when he exercised.
    Zoey slid into the car beside him, careful to keep the middle seat empty. Her gorgeous hair, streaked with vibrant and unnatural teal highlights, was piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She wore stretchy lounge pants in a bright pink that hugged her every curve. He forced his eyes to stop traveling her body and focus on her face.
    “What?” she snapped.
    “How many bags did you bring?”
    “Not that it’s any of your business, but six.”
    “What can you possibly have to fill six bags?” He didn’t think he could fill more than three suitcases if he packed his entire wardrobe.
    “Not all of us wear the same three suits every day.” Zoey yanked the door closed and buckled her seatbelt.
    “You know there are baggage limits for flying, right?” Originally, she was supposed to fly to France commercially. He’d booked her first-class ticket himself.
    “Not when you travel by private plane.”
    “But you didn’t know you were traveling that way until yesterday. It would’ve cost a fortune to check all those bags, and I’m guessing they’d all be over the weight limit, too.” If Zoey wasn’t careful, she’d be bankrupt by thirty.
    “I can tell this trip is going to be a blast. There’s nothing I love more than a man who criticizes me every two seconds.”
    Her words hit him right in the chest. Is that really how she saw him—a critical, nit-picky jerk? He cleared his throat, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Thank heaven his dark skin never showed a blush. “I didn’t mean to criticize you. I was just worrying about the financial ramifications of how much you pack.”
    “And what did you bring, one tiny bag?”
    It wasn’t tiny, but he had managed to fit everything into one large-ish suitcase. “I’m an efficient packer.”
    “Of course you are. Because you’re a man. All of this” —she motioned to herself— “doesn’t happen without a little help. I have standards to uphold, and I’m not about to let them slip while I’m in Paris for the very first time.”
    Mitch wanted to roll his eyes—who needed an entire