An Unlikely Match (The Match Series - Book #1) (11 page)

She smiled, ignoring a little warning tingle at the base of her brain that told her she couldn’t categorically deny ever being romantically interested in him, either.

“There you go,” she said brightly.
“It’s a real date.” Then she stepped back and gave him a turn. “What do you think?”

“I think you just knocked me dead.”

“I haven’t looked at the price tag,” she warned him.

“Don’t worry about the price
tag.”

“
So, this is the one?”

Again, he was silent for a moment
. When he spoke, his voice was softer than usual. “This is definitely the one.”

o
o o o

Morgan
had always prided himself on his intellect and reason. But when Amelia was around, those two attributes seemed to vanish. She’d persuaded him to buy some designer blue jeans, a tight-fitting cowl-neck sweater, a couple of earth-tone T-shirts with what looked like torn collars, and a steel-gray dress shirt that made him feel like a New York fashion model. She’d told him he looked great, and he’d decided to believe her.

For now,
he was back in his regular clothes and wearing his glasses, heading for Sam Finnegan’s first lecture in the main hall. The optometrist had suggested using the contact lenses only a few hours a day to start. He was working his way up, but he’d been surprised at how comfortable they felt. And he actually liked the way they gave him a wider field of vision.

Ryder McKinley caught up with Morgan
as he turned down the main hallway. “Did you get us a backstage pass?”

Morgan chuckled. “I
never pictured you as a groupie.”

“Get used to it.” Ryder paused. “Is Dr. Finnegan gay?”

“I don’t think so.” Not that Morgan had given it any thought. But he couldn’t remember Sam making any reference to his sexual orientation.

“Because
.” Ryder waggled his brows meaningfully. “You know, if he’s looking for groupies...”

“You’re not gay,” Morgan pointed out
as they joined the lineup.

“Maybe not.
But I can put on the charm as good as the next guy.”

“
Probably not as good as the next gay guy.”

“I suppose,” Ryder reluctantly agreed. “I’m just trying to find an angle.”

“Why are you so set on impressing him?” As far as Morgan knew, Sam was officially retired. He wasn’t heading up an institute or in charge of a large pot of research funding.

“He’s very influential,” said Ryder. “He’s on about a dozen boards. With one phone call, he could
underwrite my research for the next decade.”

“You’re a
funding-grant slut.”

“I am,”
said Ryder.

Th
rough the double wooden doors, they made their way into the rapidly filling main theater, finding seats halfway back.

“I don’t play politics very well,” Morgan
said as they sat down on the plush seats.

“You might want to learn,” said Ryder.
“The more money you can bring in from outside, the more the institute will pony up. It’s a snowball effect, but you have to get it started.”

“I was counting on the
intrinsic value of my research,” Morgan said.

Ryder laughed
, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re in the big leagues now. And there’s a game to be played. Good decision on the hair, by the way. That mad-scientist look wasn’t doing anything for you.”

Morgan frowned at the exaggeration.
“I didn’t have a mad-scientist look.”

“Okay, let’s call it an ‘I don’t give a shit’ look.”

“I don’t,” said Morgan. In fact, he thought the new haircut made him look preppy and pretentious.

“Better learn to,”
said Ryder. “There are plenty of female donors out there, too. If you can flirt, you can fund your research.”

“I’ve never flirted in my life.”

Even if Morgan could figure out the confusing dynamics of sexy banter, it struck him as exceedingly false to use it as a tool of coercion.

“Everybody flirts.”

“Not me.”

“How do you pick up women?”

Morgan was about to say he didn’t. But that would have made him sound pathetic. “I’m open and honest.”

“How’s that been working for you?”

Morgan shrugged. “It’s not like I’m cruising the bars on Saturday nights looking for action.”

“
Where do you meet women?”

“I dated my lab partner at
Berkeley.” Morgan didn’t mention that it had been in his third year, and his sex life had been sporadic at best since then.

“
And now?”

“Now?”

“Have you met anyone in Pasadena?”

Morgan hesitated. “I’m taking my neighbor with me to my high school reunion next weekend.”

“The
little hottie from Sapphire Sunday?”

“That’s the one,” Morgan
answered, even as he realized his mistake in letting Ryder think it was a regular date.

He could only hope this
conversation didn’t come back to haunt him. It was all well and good for Amelia to claim it was a real date when she was arguing with him. But they both knew it wasn’t. And if Ryder ever met up with Amelia again, there was a good chance he’d say something embarrassing.

“You’re
shittin’ me.” Ryder looked suitably amazed.

“Ladies and gentlemen,”
came the voice of the institute’s president as the lights dimmed in the theater. “It is my distinct honor this afternoon to welcome Dr. Samuel Finnegan back to the California Institute of Technology.”

The crowd quickly quieted.

“Dr. Finnegan needs no introduction to us here at Caltech. He is one of the founding scientists at NASA, a two-time recipient of the Harry Keiron Award. He holds doctoral degrees from Harvard, MIT
and
Caltech.”

A cheer went up from the crowd.

“And he is currently a member of the President’s Council on Aerospace Innovation. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome home to Dr. Samuel Finnegan.”

The crowd cheered loudly, everyone coming to their feet.

Sam looked self-conscious coming up to the podium. Morgan wasn’t surprised. The man he’d met and spoken with in Florida had struck him as quiet and unassuming.

Sam did, however, know how to communicate
astrophysics. He spoke for a full hour to a hushed crowd. And he didn’t confine himself to hard science. He spoke of the socioeconomic and psychological impacts of examining the universe, the major questions under current study, and the implications of finding answers. He then outlined his next four lectures for the rest of the week: the big bang, dark matter, galaxies and black holes.

A
fterward, as the large crowd dispersed, Morgan and Ryder made their way to the private reception being held in the faculty club. Drinks and snacks were being served in the big hall, with the invited guests flowing back and forth between the patio and gardens.

Sam was surrounded by a large cluster of people
who were hanging on his every word. But, amazingly, when he spotted Morgan, he gave him a nod through the crowd, and then he broke free, making his way across the hall toward him.

“You weren’t kidding,” Ryder noted with obvious awe.

“Morgan,” Sam greeted, holding out his hand. “I was hoping I’d get a chance to say hi.”

“
You knew I had a position here?” Morgan was surprised to hear the news had reached Sam.

“Thanks to y
our mother. She told your grandfather, and he mentioned it to me. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Morgan angled his body to include Ryder. “Dr. Finnegan, this is
Dr. Ryder McKinley, a fellow researcher.”

“Please, call me Sam.” Sam shook Ryder’s hand.

“Ryder,” Ryder responded. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“I haven’t done this in a while.” Sam gave a glance around. He couldn’t
possibly fail to notice all the attention focused on him. Dozens of people were coming as close as they dared, waiting for a chance to break into the conversation. He leaned closer to Morgan and Ryder. “It’s a bit daunting.”

“
That was a very impressive speech,” said Ryder.

Sam shrugged. “I’ve given it a few times before. It just needed a little update.”
He turned to Morgan. “How are you enjoying Pasadena?”

“It’s great,” Morgan answered, meaning it. He liked the town. He liked
Caltech. And he very much liked his colleagues.

“Met anyone interesting?” asked Sam.

“The other researchers, like Ryder, have been very welcoming. We’ve had numerous opportunities to both hear and share ideas and insights.”

“That’s good,” said Sam
, but something in his tone made Morgan feel he’d given the wrong answer.

“Are you busy later?
” Sam asked. “Could we get a drink or something?”

“Happy to,” Morgan replied
with some surprise.

“Maybe even dinner
if you’re not too busy?”

“Of course.”
Morgan could almost feel Ryder’s keen eagerness beside him.

“Something casual would be best,” said Sam, with another glance around. “I have a feeling I’m going to be tired after this.”

“Casual is good,” said Morgan, wondering if there was a way to politely include Ryder.

“Maybe eve
n at your place?” Sam suggested. “I’d be happy to pick up beer and pizza.”

The suggestion surprised Morgan
all over again. “Sure,” he quickly answered. “Perhaps Ryder could join us?”

Sam smiled.
“Sounds perfect. I promised the president I’d circulate a bit. Can you track me down when you’re ready to head home?”

“I will,” Morgan promised.

Sam made it no more than two steps away when he was approached by three other people.

“I owe you one,”
Ryder told Morgan. “Seriously.”

“
Don’t worry about it.”

Morgan was
doing enough worrying himself. It was Monday night, which made it unlikely Amelia was working, which meant there was a good chance she’d be home. She might very well see Ryder. And Ryder might mention the reunion date. Not good.

In her front hallway, Amelia kicked off her shoes and groaned as her bare feet hit the soft carpet. It had been a brutally long day, and all she could think about was pouring herself a glass of the bargain chardonnay in her fridge and looking for some happy news from her friends on social media. She’d gone to three open auditions today, waited her turn in the stuffy hallways, and poured her heart out in the monologues.

Deep down inside, she knew she wouldn’t get a callback. She
had been able to tell by the expressions on the casting staffs’ faces that she wasn’t right for any of the parts. She knew she had to shake it off, told herself each and every part was a crapshoot. There were so many things outside her control, and not getting any particular part didn’t mean she wasn’t a good actress. She had to be patient, and she had to maintain confidence.

Okay,
so right now what she had to do was have a glass of wine. Maybe the confidence would come later. She moved to the small kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. A half-f bottle of wine was one of the few items inside. She kept meaning to pick up a decent load of groceries, but it was difficult without a car.

While she poured the wine, she heard voices outside, male voices, along with
male laughter. Morgan obviously had some friends over. And they were obviously having fun.

Why wouldn’t he be having fun? He had a good job, a great career, all the furniture one man could want. And he always seemed to have
delicious food in his kitchen. Her stomach rumbled gently around the wine.

Curious, she moved toward
her patio door, intending to sneak a peek without bothering them. Leaving her living room light off, she squinted through the glass, focusing on one man, then another, then Morgan in profile. Her chest gave a funny contraction at the sight of him. He was wearing one of those ghastly plaid shirts and his glasses. But his hair looked terrific.

Then the
older of the three men seemed to catch sight of her. He said something to Morgan, and Morgan looked over as well. She quickly drew back, embarrassed to be caught spying.

Her mortification grew
exponentially when Morgan stepped over the low fence and crossed her patio. She’d been caught, and there was nothing to do but own up. She pulled open the sliding door.

“I heard voices,” she defended her behavior.

“Hey, Amelia,” he greeted with a friendly smile.

Warmth shimmied through her at the gravelly sound of his voice
, and she stopped caring about being embarrassed. She was simply glad to see him. In fact, she wished she could lean against his broad chest, have his comforting arms wrap around her.

“Hi,
” she breathed in return.

“Did you just get home?”
he asked.

“I did.”

He canted his head toward his own yard. “Ryder came by for pizza.”

She looked past Morgan
, now recognizing the younger man from the night at Sapphire Sunday. “Hi, Ryder.”

Ryder lifted his beer can in a salute.

“And that’s Dr. Finnegan. He’s doing a lecture series at Caltech.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she told Morgan.

“No problem. Dr. Finnegan suggested I invite you over.”

“Oh, no.”
She shook her head and took a step back. “That’s not at all necessary.”

But before she could withdraw, both Ryder and Dr. Finnegan stepped over the fence, joining Morgan on her patio.

“Hi, Amelia,” Ryder greeted.

“
Sam Finnegan,” said the other man, offering his hand.

She transferred her wineglass to her left hand and shook. “I was just apologizing to Morgan.
I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“
I was hoping to meet you,” said Sam Finnegan.

The
statement confused her.

“Morgan mentioned you earlier
,” he explained.

She glanced to Morgan, who
looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“I hear you’re going to the reunion
with Morgan,” Ryder put in.

“
Yes,” she laughed. “Yes, I am.” She guessed Ryder knew about their ruse. That would explain Morgan’s discomfort.

“Tell me more,” said Sam
with obvious curiosity.

“Would you like some pizza?” asked Morgan.

“Love some.” She took the conversational exit, sliding the door shut behind her. “Do you live in Pasadena?” she asked Sam as they made their way across the yards.

“I’m only here for the week,” Sam answered. “I graduated from
Caltech a very long time ago.”

“He’s one of our most illustrious alumni,” Ryder put in.

“Enough about me,” said Sam. “Amelia’s a much more interesting conversational topic. What brings you to Pasadena?”

“
She’s trying to get into acting,” Morgan answered, holding out the pizza box. “Pepperoni.”

“
Perfect.” She took a slice. “I did three more auditions today.”

“Anything promising?” asked Morgan.

She glanced down at her bare feet. “Mostly standing around in hot rooms with a lot of other desperate people.”

“It takes time,” he
responded.

“That’s what I’m telling myself.”

His soft lawn furniture was too much of a temptation for her aching feet, and she sank down into the nearest chair. The three men followed suit, taking the other chairs.

“I’m also a waitress,” she told Sam with as much cheer as she could muster.
“At Sapphire Sunday.”

“I’ve been there,”
he told her. “Nice place.”

“
Not exactly my dream career.” She struggled against a wave of self-pity. To cover up, she took a sip of the wine.

Morgan turned his attention to Sam. “Do you have other lecture series planned?” he asked him.

“This is it for the time being,” Sam answered.

Amelia took a bite of the
lukewarm pizza, savoring the thick crust, smooth cheese and spicy pepperoni. Comfort food was a great antidote for her disappointing day.

“
I’m looking forward to your take on space-time theory around the event horizon in black holes,” said Ryder. Then he laughed a little self-consciously. “Though I realize there’s only so much you can cover in an hour.”

“
I was thinking about hosting a small discussion group after each lecture, faculty who might be interested, some of the grad students.”

“That would be very popular,” said Ryder.

“It would be informational for me as well,” said Sam.

As Amelia bit into the pizza again, she felt a light touch on her shoulder. She turned to find Morgan
gently stroking her with the back of his hand.

“You okay?” he
asked, concern in his tone.

“I’m fine.” She mustered a smile. “I was a little hungry.”

He smiled in return, and some of her tension seemed to evaporate.

“
You told Ryder about our date.”

Morgan glanced to where Ryder was in conversation with Sam. Then he gave a sheepish shrug. “
To be honest, I let him think it was a real date.”

“
It is a real date,” she repeated.

As their gazes held, she realized she
wanted it to be a complete and bona fide date. She wanted to talk with Morgan, dance with Morgan, maybe kiss him all over again. He might be a nerd and a genius, but she was quite hopelessly attracted to him.

She swallowed, wondering how she
might transmit her interest. He seemed immune to the regular signals of flirtation.

He
broke away from her gaze. “Another beer?” he called to the two men.

“I should be heading home,” said Ryder
with a glance at his watch.

“Do you mind dropping me at the hotel?” asked Sam.

“No problem,” Ryder responded with clear enthusiasm.

As all three men rose, Amelia
found herself probing her feelings for Morgan. She’d been attracted to plenty of guys in the past. Why did this feel so different?

Realizing she was the only one left sitting, she
polished off the last bite of her pizza, setting down her glass and scrambling to her feet.

“Go ahead and stay put
,” Morgan motioned her back down. “Have some more pizza.” He grinned. “We both know how you like to eat.”

As the men
said their goodbyes and Morgan walked them to the front door, Amelia sank back into the chair.

She helped
herself to another slice of pizza. She knew she should go home, but there was something comforting about sitting on Morgan’s patio. She didn’t feel like heading back to her empty condo and letting the walls echo around her.

After a few minutes, s
he heard the door slide shut and the distinctive pop from the top of a beer can as he returned.

“This is delicious,” she told him as he
lowered himself into the seat beside her. They were both facing the hillside, the city lights spread out before them.

He
reached a slice for himself. “I expected you to be a lot fussier.”

“I’m too tired to be fussy.” She
wiggled her bare feet in the sultry air. “Maybe tomorrow.”

His laugh was low and sexy. “
Sounds like you had a bad day.”

“
I’m rethinking my career choice.”

“After three weeks?”

“It’s been three very long weeks, and I haven’t received a single iota of encouragement.” She knew she sounded sulky, but she figured she’d earned the right. Today had been a disappointing day, capping off a disappointing week, which capped off a disappointing move to California.

“What were you expecting?” His tone was mild, but she sensed criticism behind the words.

She tried not to let him put her on the defensive, struggling to organize her thoughts into words. “I don’t know. Maybe a part. Maybe a bit part. Maybe a callback. Maybe just an ‘atta girl.’”

“If it was easy, everyone would do it.”

“Everyone
is
doing it.” If the length of the lineups she’d endured were any indication, they sure were.

“That’
s a surprise to you?”

“No,” she
answered sharply. “I’m smart enough to know acting is a popular career choice, but…” Again, she struggled to frame the right words.

“
But you’re not used to failure?”

“I’m not,” she
said.

When things didn’t work out for her
in life, she simply put in a little extra effort, and pretty soon it all came together. But succeeding easily was the path she preferred, leaving plenty of time for fun in her life. She’d been perfectly satisfied with C’s in college. A C meant you’d passed the course. She wasn’t about to devote every waking minute to graduating summa cum laude. And beyond that, one degree was as good as another.

So she
’d taken C’s and enjoyed her college years, cheering, dating and attending parties. But if she’d ever found she wasn’t making it over the bar, any bar, she’d pushed the effort up a notch and cleared it easily.

Until now.
Now, her genuine exertion and determination didn’t seem to be enough.

He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do about it?”

For the first time in her life, she was trying as hard as she could. But i
f the director didn’t want a perky, auburn-haired cheerleader, she wasn’t about to get chosen for the part.

“
Take acting lessons.”

The suggestion offended her.
“I already know how to act.”

What did he think she’d been doing these past four years?

“I also know how to dance,” she added for good measure. “I’m a decent gymnast, and I can sing. Okay, maybe I don’t have a lead or solo-quality voice, but I can hold my own in the chorus.”

He watched her closely. “Then I guess there’s nothing more you can do.”

Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she took a drink of her wine. “You’re mocking me.”

“Am I?”

She set down her glass. “You have no idea how much I’ve worked, how hard I’ve tried.”

“I know you’re not succeeding.”

“Who says I’m not succeeding?”

He gave an inscrutable smirk
, and she realized he’d turned the tables on her.

“
Stop that
,” she demanded.

“
You’re fighting with yourself.”

“
No, I’m fighting with you, because you’re being a jerk.”