Meet Your Mate Read online

  She was still contemplating the answer when the first two actresses were called. One went outside with Matthew, while the other followed Jack into the study, giving her some alone time with the other four contestants/suspects.

  "We might as well have a seat. This is going to take a while,” the blonde said, plopping onto a cushioned chair.

  Brielle positioned herself between two of the contestants on the couch as the remaining girl settled into another chair.

  Seated next to her, the woman in white smiled. “Hi, I'm Danielle.” She extended her hand. “But my friends call me Danni."

  "Nice to meet you, Danni. I'm Gabrielle, but my friends call me Brielle.” She shook the woman's hand, liking her sturdy grip.

  "Okay, Brielle. This is Stacy, Mandy, and Carla.” Danni pointed to tall brunette, the short blonde and the exotic sitting on her other side.

  She nodded to them, surprised again by their guarded but nonhostile greetings. “It must be hard to go through this every week,” she said, observing their reactions.

  "Yes, it is.” Danni sighed.

  "I hate it,” Mandy announced with a pout.

  "Me too,” Stacy agreed.

  "Not me.” Carla smiled. “I enjoy the drama."

  Brielle eyed the woman, noting her relaxed posture. “You do? You like the suspense?"

  "You bet. I thrive on it.” Her green eyes flashed as she tossed her hair back.

  "You would.” Stacy snickered, seemingly unaffected by Carla's lethal glare.

  "So, Brielle, you teach dance, right?” Mandy pushed a blond curl behind her ear.

  Disappointed in the change of subject, Brielle reluctantly played along. “Yes. I teach all kinds of dance to all ages.” She smiled and lied through her teeth, one of the downfalls of her profession. She could lie and bluff with the best of them.

  "Do you teach erotic dance?” Carla slung her arm across the back of the couch and crossed her long legs.

  At the mere mention of erotic dance, her mind drifted to Dodger and The Limelight.

  "Stacy, you're next,” Jack declared from the opened door on her right.

  Brielle's head snapped in his direction, and she watched him step aside to allow the actress he'd been questioning to escape.

  "Well, Brielle? Do you?” Carla prompted.

  Jack's raised brow made it clear he'd heard the question. “Please, don't let me interrupt.” He smiled.

  Bravado lifted her chin and kept her attention fixed on him. “Yes, as I said. I teach all kinds of dance."

  "I bet,” he said under his breath.

  She held his gaze until Stacy walked past him and he shut the door, lowering the tension back to a dull buzz.

  "Geez, what's up with him tonight?” Mandy rolled her eyes.

  "Men. Who knows what's up with them,” the actress said as she took a seat.

  Danni raised her drink. “Here's to being enlightened."

  She clinked her glass with theirs, and was about to take a sip when Greg came into the room and announced it was her turn to meet with the groom.

  Finally. By the time she reached Matthew, the fresh, lavender-scented outdoor air and soothing sounds of water cascading into the basin of a fountain restored her calm.

  "Hi, Brielle,” Matthew said, kissing both of her cheeks.

  He's definitely an Anderson.

  "You don't have to watch what you say out here. The girls can't hear you.” He grabbed her hand and led her to a stone bench.

  She eyed the nearby cameraman. Bald, beard and a ball cap worn backward, the man raised more than her brow. The look in his eyes didn't help—almost devious. “What about him?"

  "Who? Phil? Don't worry about him. He's been great and this won't be aired until the whole show is in the can,” Matthew reaffirmed what Bill had told her an hour earlier. Once seated, he released her hand and sighed. “I'll just be happy when I can let my guard down and not have to worry if the woman I'm dating is going to turn ballistic."

  She frowned. “Have there been any more threats?"

  "No. I haven't gotten any since last week, and your uncle knew about that one.” He sent her a small smile. “I'm sorry you're being thrust into this, but I do appreciate it."

  "That's okay. I'm glad to help, although I'll be honest. I hate deceiving the innocent contestants and that I'm making you send some home in order to keep me here.” Head tilted to get a better read on his expression, she continued. “Matthew, I have to ask, why are you even bothering with this show? Surely a good looking man like you can find a date?"

  He laughed. “You sound like my mother."

  "Gee, thanks, I think.” She grinned. “But you still haven't answered my question."

  "Yep, just like my mom.” He threw his head back and laughed. Moonlight glinted off his teeth and sparkled in his eyes as he sobered. “Sure, I can get dates, but they always seem to be with women who are more interested in my bank account than my heart.” He jumped to his feet and stalked toward the fountain. “Not once have I met someone who hasn't asked about my portfolio before our second date. I saw this show as an opportunity to escape that."

  "How?” She joined him at the cascading wall.

  "The candidates for this show were told the bachelor was a struggling artist, which, of course, I'm not.” He shrugged. “I don't like deceiving them either, but it's only a small lie. I am an artist."

  "Just not struggling.” She frowned, trying to recall what her uncle had told her about Matthew. For some reason, only Jack's bio stuck in her mind.

  "No. I'm far from struggling these days.” He laughed. “I paint under the name Andy Matthews."

  Her head jerked. “You're Andy Matthews? Wow.” She blinked several times. Her uncle certainly hadn't mentioned that. “Wow."

  He laughed. “That's the reaction I usually get."

  "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm a big fan of your work.” She smiled, feeling like a fool. “I own one of your paintings, it's not as grand as the one hanging inside, but I love it just the same."

  "Really? I'm flattered.” Matthew's pleased expression stared down at her. “What do you own?"

  "One of your seascapes—Tranquil Shores. It's hanging over my bed. Pure brilliance. Your use of light and colors transports me. I swear I can hear the roar of the ocean and feel the waves lapping at my feet every time I look at it."

  "I'm glad. Thank you.” His smile turned into a frown. “But please don't tell the other girls. That's the reason I came on this show."

  "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me.” She nodded, then put her arm through his and led them back to the bench. “Believe me. I understand your motives. I have a similar problem but for different reasons."

  His head snapped toward her as they sat down. “You do? But you're so beautiful. Why would anyone want to leave you?"

  She snorted. What was in this Hollywood makeup? “Since we don't have all night, I'll give you the most popular reason. My job and my proficiency at it scares the h—” She looked at the camera. “It scares them silly."

  "Well then, they're just plain stupid.” He brushed a curl from her eye. “Your strength and confidence is very attractive, and if they're too thick-headed to realize that, then they aren't worthy of you."

  "That's sweet of you to say.” Her chin rose. Maybe she could bottle him up and use him when she needed ego-boosting. “I have one more question."

  "Okay, but you'd better make it fast. Unfortunately, our time is almost up."

  "Have you fallen for one of the contestants?"

  His gaze dropped, but even under the soft glow of the garden lights, she noticed his flushed face. “Yes, I ... um ... think I have, but I'm too afraid to let go and show it in case she's the lunatic or worse."

  "Worse?"

  "The lunatic might realize I have feelings for this woman and cause her harm. I couldn't live with that.” A twisted look crossed his face.

  Her heart clenched, and in that instant, she decided to see this job through to the end. She squeezed
his hand. “Matthew, you're my client, and I promise I'll do whatever it takes to flush her out."

  "Thanks.” He patted her hand and brought them to their feet. “Don't look now, but we're being watched."

  She didn't have to look. A shadow in red had been spying on them for the past two minutes, but she couldn't tell if the woman had brown or black hair. It was just her luck two contestants wore red tonight.

  "Please don't think I'm forward, but to keep up appearances"—he tugged her closer—"I need to kiss you."

  Before she could form an opinion, he covered her lips with his own. Blinking, she counted to ten and was about to pull away when he lifted his head.

  "I'm sorry, but I've kissed every contestant, and they'd find it odd if I hadn't kissed you.” He placed her hand through his and walked her toward the mansion.

  "I understand,” she reassured with a grin. “I'd hate for my cover to be blown before I even started."

  "Me, too.” He smiled.

  Glad to have replaced his worry with amusement, she decided to add one more remark. “Besides, I can't leave until we have our hot tub scene, right?"

  "Right. Heaven forbid we don't fit that in.” They were still chuckling when they reached the patio door.

  "How nice to see you getting on so well, dear brother.” Jack's sarcastic tone bristled.

  She bit her lip before her tongue had a chance to give into the raspberry that threatened.

  "Oh, Brielle's a keeper, Jack.” Matthew placed her hand in his brother's, then winked before Mandy walked out to greet him.

  "He's lost his mind,” Jack muttered, pulling her past the contestants and into the study with her cameraman tripping over his feet to keep up. She eye-rolled the other girls. Their chuckles could be heard until Jack shut the door with his foot.

  Yanking her hand free, she rounded on him. “What in the world's the matter with you? I don't see you treating the others like this."

  Eyes narrowed, he came to stand before her. A musky ocean scent filled her nostrils as she fought her body's knee-weakening reaction.

  "I don't treat the others like that because they haven't given me reason.” Hot breath lifted the hair framing her face, while his eyes dared her to speak.

  She'd never backed down from a dare. Hands on hips, she gave him the full extent of her stare. “What exactly have I done? You don't even know me."

  "Look, Ms. Bennett,” he spat her name like spoiled meat on a hot day. “I'm not interested in what you have to say because I'm telling Matthew to send you home tonight.” Blue flames shot from his eyes and licked her face.

  "Why are you so mad? I haven't done anything to warrant this behavior. I came on this show hoping for the best.” She waited for his expression to cool before she moved toward the wooden desk in the center of the cherry-paneled room. Resting on the edge, she pretended her mauve fingernails were the most fascinating things in the world.

  He stepped in front of her, his presence demanding she look at him. “Why exactly did you come on this show, Ms. Bennett?"

  She shrugged and tried to keep some truth in their conversation. “I wanted to meet your brother."

  "What for?"

  "To learn origami.” Her hands shot in the air. “Why do you think?"

  His gaze narrowed. He wasn't amused.

  She sighed. “Look, I know I can make your brother happy. Isn't that what matters?"

  "How?"

  "What do you mean, how?"

  He placed his hands on either side of her on the desk and leaned in. “By kissing him the minute you two were alone?"

  She blinked. “You saw that? Well, you're not very observant for—” Brielle stopped before she gave herself away.

  "For what?” His finger traced her jaw. “A man? That's right, Ms. Bennett. I am a man. Maybe you'd like to kiss me too?"

  Oh, you've no idea!

  Swallowing, she tried to hold down her desire and keep her mind on the job. A contestant here for Matthew would not be pleased with Jack's pass.

  Palms on his broad shoulders, she pushed him away and stood. “Look, Jack, I'm not sure what you're getting at, but I'm not interested.” She stepped past him.

  "Are you sure?” His breath warmed her neck and back as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

  She closed her eyes against the sweet vibrations spiraling down her torso. Oh, she wanted to kiss all right. But this was wrong. What exactly did she know about Jack? Why was he at The Limelight? Was he one of the investigators or just a patron? Her eyes flew open. And he was being a jerk! The delicious sensations stopped mid-stream, then bubbled into anger.

  How dare he make a pass at his brother's would-be girlfriend?

  Scowling, she grasped his hand and flipped him over her shoulder. His sexier-than-he-had-a-right-to-be form hit the floor with a thump.

  "You have some nerve, mister.” Straightening her skirt and bodice, she glared down at his sprawled body. “Does your brother know you're making passes at the contestants?"

  Why do I always attract the jerks? She'd hoped Dodger would be different. She was wrong. Disappointment soured her mouth, and the sniggering cameraman did nothing to alleviate her mood.

  "Yes, he's aware of it,” Jack replied, sitting up. “It's part of our strategy to find him a loyal mate."

  She blinked. “Oh.” Maybe he wasn't such a jerk. Maybe. She held her hand out and helped him stand.

  "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” He smiled and released her hand to brush his clothes. “But I had to put you to the test."

  Test? He'd made her consider blowing her cover ... over a test? She swallowed. “You've made a pass at all the contestants?"

  He nodded.

  "I see.” She suddenly wondered what the other women had done, then shook her head. That was none of her business.

  "As I said, I hope it didn't offend you.” He straightened his tie and stared.

  Offended? No. Ticked off—yes. She tried to keep her anger in check. Part of her understood the reasoning, but the other part wanted to teach him a lesson.

  "I'll get over it. But if you try that again, I won't be responsible for the outcome."

  "Oh?” His smile widened, and he folded his arms across his chest. “I suppose you know martial arts?"

  "As a matter of fact, I hold two black belts. One in tae kwon do and one in aikido.” Shoot! I shouldn't have revealed that.

  His arms dropped to his sides. “Son-of-a—"

  "Hey.” She held up her hand. “Don't finish that. You may regard yourself as the offspring of a female dog, but don't call your mother names in front of me. I won't stand for it,” she joked, deciding to keep him off balance by annoying him with silliness.

  He looked at the ceiling and muttered.

  It was working. Hands behind her back, she tipped her head and glanced up, then turned to the camera and shrugged.

  "Very funny, Ms. Bennett,” Jack scoffed, intolerance claiming his expression.

  "What's with the Ms. Bennett? My name's Brielle.” She pushed further. “I know you can say it. All you have to do is pucker your lips. Oh, wait"—she hit her knuckles off her head—"maybe that's too complicated for you."

  He rolled his eyes. “You're a regular comedienne. Do you have an act? You should be up onstage, entertaining people."

  His words clogged the breath in her throat. She began to cough.

  "Are you all right?"

  She shook her head and continued to choke.

  "Here.” He grabbed an unopened bottle of water from his desk and thrust it into her hand.

  She uncapped the lid and took a long drink. “Thanks,” she said when her voice returned.

  "You're welcome.” He crossed his arms again and looked her up and down. “Do you really hold two black belts?” He rubbed his chin when she nodded. “I suppose it helps you with balance in your dancing?"

  "That and when some clod wants to do more than the tango.” She smirked.

  "I bet you get that a lot, Ms. Benn—Brielle,” he
corrected with a smile. “You are a beautiful woman."

  The rush of pleasure from his compliment compelled her to annoy him. She couldn't afford to let a connection develop. She winked at the cameraman. “At least he got my name right."

  "He is right here.” Jack pointed to his chest.

  "And so you are. Apology accepted."

  He frowned. “What are you talking about? I didn't apologize."

  "That's true.” She placed the bottle on the desk, then sat on the corner and crossed her arms. “Go ahead. I'm waiting."

  "Waiting? Lady, are you nuts?” He stopped in front of her.

  "No.” She smiled. “But I am crazy."

  This verbal sparring was the most exhilarating exercise she'd had in years. His bewildered gaze told her she had him off balance. Good. She couldn't afford the alternative.

  "I can see that."

  "If you're done, we should go.” She ignored his nearness and glanced over his shoulder at the mantle clock. “I don't want to give anyone the wrong impression."

  "No, we don't want to do that,” he said, brushing a curl from her mouth. Funny, when Matthew had done that earlier, she'd found his touch to be innocent, brotherly, sweet—nothing like the spine-heating, core-liquefying, take-you-to-the-edge touch of his brother. Her breath caught as his gaze and finger lingered on her lips.

  I'm here to help Matthew. I'm here to help Matthew. She chanted silently, hoping to slow her accelerated pulse.

  "Why did you kiss my brother?"

  She blinked. “What?"

  "Why did you kiss Matthew?"

  Trying to think proved impossible with his caressing finger fogging her brain. Was he jealous? That was ridiculous. She eyed his full lips and swallowed. She'd much rather kiss him.

  "Did you enjoy it?"

  Danger! Time to end this. Once again, they were working on the same case but from different angles. Maybe. She straightened her shoulders and moved around him. Jack was a no-no and a suspect. She pulled in a breath, then released it. “I think we should go."

  Feeling better, she smoothed her gown and headed for the door.