Free A Perfectly Imperfect Match (Matchmaking Mamas) by Marie Ferrarella

he echoed. “You didn’t tell me that your car was refitted with wings and doubled as a hovercraft.”
    She caught the slightly sarcastic tone. Had she tread on his male ego by unintentionally beating him in a time-honored male sport, auto racing?
    “It wasn’t and doesn’t.” She pulled the door open and was a little taken aback when she saw his arm go out just above her head and take possession of the door away from her. She could almost see his biceps flexing as he effortlessly held the heavy, double-wide door open for her.
    “I have what my family likes to refer to as a lead foot,” she explained, then confessed, “It’s not something I’m overly proud of. I really do try to rein it in, but there’s something about making a light just before it turns red and squeaking through tight places that I find to be really irresistible—no matter how hard I try to ignore it, or at least not give in to the temptation. Just between you and me, I really have trouble resisting the allure of going fast.”
    “Remind me never to have you drive me anywhere,” he quipped.
    “Unless it’s an emergency,” she pointed out. “Then you might be happy I can make twists and turns most people turn pale just thinking about.”
    He took her at her word about the pale part. “Just how many traffic tickets have you amassed?” he asked, curious.
    “None, actually.” She could see he was going to need convincing. “I don’t run red lights and I don’t go above posted speed limits.”
    “The key word here being posted, ” he guessed wryly.
    When she merely smiled at him in response to his comment, her eyes dancing, he had his answer. Why he found her to be so appealing when she made her admission, he wasn’t really able to say. He was accustomed to women who worried about the wind messing with their hair, or not being the sole object of interest when they entered a room.
    Elizabeth, apparently, had no concerns about turning heads, or literally having every hair in place. She appeared to be far too full of life to be overly worried about things like that.
    He supposed that was her Bohemian spirit, coming to the forefront. He found he rather liked it.
    Liked it? he silently mocked himself. Hell, he found it downright captivating.
    “Two?” the hostess asked, coming up to greet them the moment they stepped into the restaurant.
    “Two,” he confirmed.
    He caught himself thinking that there was something oddly comfortable about being part of a duo, even if only for the length of time that it took to eat a meal. Most of the time, when he went out to eat and he wasn’t using that time to court a company client, he was alone. For the most part, his meals were sporadic, spur-of-the-moment decisions and thus, perforce, very solitary affairs.
    The idea of sharing a meal with someone without having to pitch ideas and be ever vigilant and on his toes was exceedingly appealing to him.
    Jared caught himself smiling as he followed the hostess and Elizabeth into the heart of the restaurant. He was going to enjoy this, he promised himself.
    He had a hunch that he was going to enjoy sitting opposite Elizabeth as he ate even more.

Chapter Six
    “H ave you been doing this long?” he asked Elizabeth once the hostess had given them their menus and quietly retreated from their table.
    The question had caught her completely off guard. For a second, she wasn’t sure what he was referring to. “You mean eating? For as long as I can remember.”
    Jared laughed. He’d found that a sense of humor was an indispensable tool when it came to being able not just to survive, but to survive well. He liked hers. If he were ever in the market for a wife—which of course he wasn’t—a sense of humor would have been his number one priority.
    Having legs that didn’t quit and a face that daydreams were made of didn’t exactly detract from the total picture, either.
    But he wasn’t looking for a mate, nor would he ever be. He didn’t like failing, and