An Unlikely Match (The Match Series - Book #1) (7 page)

“
Sorry about that,” he told her, coming to his feet.

He moved
straight to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“It’s fine. Cheeseburger?”

“Cheeseburger works for me.” She was curious but forced herself to keep her mouth shut.

“They’ll only take a few minutes to cook.”

“Sounds great.
I’m starving.”

He set a tray of burgers on the counter, then stacked cheese slices, lettuce and mayonnaise beside them.

“Can I help?” she asked, retrieving his glass of wine from the side table and bringing it to him.

The phone call had clearly altered his mood. But it was none of her business.

“I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure everything’s okay?”

He pushed the fridge door closed. “You mean my mom?”

She gave
in to curiosity. “You seem a little tense.”

He gazed at her but didn’t respond.

“I’m being hopelessly nosy,” she admitted. Then she rounded the breakfast bar and held out his glass of wine.

He took it.
“You think if you get me drunk I’ll talk?”

“It’s worked before.”

“I’ll bet it has.”

“Are you going to remind me that I’m a
Pavlovian blonde?”

His jaw tightened.
“I’m really sorry about saying that. It was rude and uncalled for.”

“I thought it was pretty funny.” She leaned her hip against the breakfast bar. “
In my sorority, we’d have called you a FE-PWAPP.”

He seemed to relax a little.
“You do know I’ll have to bite on that.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“What’s a fee-pwap?”

“It’s an acronym.
Stands for Four-Eyes, Probably-Wears-a-Pocket-Protector.”

“I don’t wear a pocket protector.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not blonde.”

His eyes softened to smoke. “I guess we could call it even.”

“You feed me a burger, you can call me anything you want.”

Something smoldered in
the depths of his eyes. Before she could identify it, he lifted the tray of patties in one hand. “Coming right up.”

She took the stack of cheese and followed him outside
under the patio awning.

There, he flipped open
the lid on the gas barbecue. Smoke wafted up as he brushed off the grates. Then he laid out a row of four patties and adjusted the temperature.

“I’ve been invited to a high school reunion,” he
unexpectedly told her.

It took
Amelia a moment to put his words in context. “That was your mom’s phone call.”

“That’s what it was.”

“Well, that’s good news. Ten years?”

“Ten years.”

“When is it? Where is it?”

He pulled down the heavy lid
and set the cheese slices on the side shelf next to the barbecue utensils. “Pine Valley Collegiate, Sacramento, California.”

“That’s
doable. When? I assume it’s on a weekend?”

“
It’s on a weekend. Three weeks from now.” He reached over-top of her and pushed the door open.

“So, what’s the problem?” she asked as they moved inside
. She tried to figure out how a reunion invitation could possibly have sparked tension between him and his mother, whom he obviously adored.

“No problem.”

“Good.” Though the answer didn’t explain why he’d been upset.

She took up the same spot on the sofa. “You’re going to impress the heck out of
your old friends.”

He took a
drink of his merlot. “What makes you say that?”

“
For starters, you’re a rocket scientist.”

He choked on a laugh. “Nobody calls themselves a rocket scientist.”

“But you really are a rocket scientist.” When Eddie had asked today, Morgan had told them he was a researcher in the aerospace department at Caltech. His job sounded very impressive.

“
It’s still a bloody pompous thing to say.”

“
You don’t have to be quite that blunt. But they’ve got to be impressed by what you’ve accomplished.”

He gave her a look that questioned her intelligence. “
Impressed? It’s high school, Amelia.”

“
It’s real life now, Morgan. High school was ten years ago.”

“I don’t think they’ll be
remotely impressed.”

“Well
, I do. We should make a bet. If they’re impressed, you cook me another dinner. If they’re not, I’ll bake you a batch of my famous button cookies.” She raised her wineglass in a mock salute. “I trust you to be honest about what happens.”

“That’s very
magnanimous of you.”

“You will let me know how it goes?
” she asked.

“
No problem.”

She smiled
, her gaze going past him. “There’s a lot of smoke coming from that barbecue.”

“Damn.” Morgan
jumped to his feet.

He rescued the patties
just in time, and they laughed their way through building their burgers. Since the table was cluttered with work, they perched on two padded, rattan chairs at the breakfast bar. Amelia moaned in satisfaction at the first bite, then they both ate in silence for a few minutes.

“
So, this job you have,” she opened.

He nodded for her to continue.

“Was it hard to get?” She had figured out he was in a very prestigious position at a top-notch school. It made her feel slightly insecure about her own career path.

“Normally, yes.
But the department head said he’d heard about me, so he called up to offer it.”

“They head-hunted you?”

“They did.”

“
You must be a bona fide genius.”

“Technically,
yeah, sure.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “But ‘genius’ is a bizarre label. My brain just happens to work in a way that lends itself to understanding science and technology. And, right now, in adult America, that’s something some people admire. A few hundred years ago, I would have been judged solely on my ability to forge weapons or handle a broadsword. And don’t get me started on what impresses the girls and the jocks in high school.”

“Are you telling me you can’t handle a broadsword?”

“Afraid not.” He played along with her joke. “Luckily for me, I don’t live in the fifteenth century.”

“
So, you’re not one of those geniuses who’s trying to invent a time machine?”

He shook his head.
“Life’s confusing enough in the here and now.”

“
Confusing how?” She found herself curious at his choice of words. “What is it that a genius like you can’t figure out?”

“Reality TV.”

She laughed. “I have a theory about reality TV.”

“
You
have a theory?”

“Are you saying cheerleaders can’t have theories?”

“No.” He seemed to stumble. “I just thought you spent all your time perfecting things like in-the-air splits. Don’t get me wrong,” he hastily added, “I have nothing but admiration and respect for people who can execute in-the-air splits. I could never do them. Not that I’ve tried.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I know how I’m making this sound.”

“Not at all,” she mocked
airily, even though she wasn’t remotely offended. It was obvious he was being awkward rather than mean-spirited.

He took
a drink of his wine. “Please. Do tell me your theory.”

She
wanted to tease him a little longer, so she pretended to be annoyed. “If you’d prefer, I could show you a few cheerleading moves instead.”

“
I deserved that,” he told her seriously.

“You did,” she agreed
, gazing at his profile, thinking guilt made him look attractive, kind of brooding and inaccessible, but in a very intriguing way.

“Are you going to tell me
your theory?” he asked.

“
Sure. Though it’s going to be a letdown after all that buildup.”

“
Try me.”

“
Reality TV contestants are the gladiators of the twenty-first century. It’s no longer morally acceptable to have people physically hack each other to death for our entertainment. But it’s fine to let them do it emotionally.”

He seemed to consider her words. “Is that what you think they’re doing? Emotionally hacking each other to death
?”

“
I do,” she asserted.

“
You watch reality shows?”

She couldn’t help but quirk a smile. “
Some. I have a lot of time to kill while jogging on the treadmill. You know, keeping in shape for those in-the-air splits.”

He nodded sagely. “I knew they factored in somehow.”

She threw him an elbow. As soon as it connected, she felt a surge of sexual awareness. It stunned her for a moment.

“It’s
actually not a bad theory,” said Morgan.

She blinked past his glasses, the ugly shirt and the
shaggy hair. When had he gotten hot?

“
Amelia?” he prompted.

She shook herself back to reality. “Yes?”

“I said I liked your theory.”

“Thanks. That’s good.”

She bit into her burger, forcing herself to focus on reality. This was her nerdy neighbor. She had absolutely no business thinking about anything other than his genius IQ and his ability to clean sofas.

She put a teasing note back into her voice. “But you should see me do the splits.”

Morgan
came to a halt in the bright white hallway near his computer lab, staring with surprise at the bulletin board poster.

“Impressive,” noted
Ryder McKinley, an electrical engineer with lab space close to Morgan’s. The two men had met and hit it off on Morgan’s first day. “They just announced the lecture series.”

“Is
Dr. Finnegan alumni?” Morgan asked, gazing at the black-and-white headshot of a slightly younger-looking Sam Finnegan.

“He is.
He’s practically a legend here. I hope there’s registration preference for post-doctoral researchers.”

“You’re planning on going?”

“Absolutely,” Ryder answered. “He hasn’t spoken at an academic institution for years, and he’s getting up there in age. This may be my last chance.”

“
He sure hasn’t lost his edge.” Morgan remembered their conversation on problems with the inertial sensor algorithm on the early prototypes of the Mars rovers.

Ryder looked surprised. “Where did you hear him speak?”

“Florida. It wasn’t formal,” Morgan quickly put in. “He’s my grandfather’s neighbor. It was at a barbecue.”

“No shit?”

“No shit,” said Morgan, thinking he’d also sign up for the series if he could.

“Could you introduce me?”

“If there’s an opportunity, I don’t see why not.” Sam had struck Morgan as being incredibly down to earth and approachable.

“Thanks, man.
You done for the day?”

“I am.” Morgan had
been stuck on a problem for a couple of hours now, and he knew enough to let it sit over the weekend before recompiling the data.

“I’m meeting Herb and
Cole for a drink on the way home. You have time to join us?” Ryder asked as he backed away.

“Sure.”
Morgan wasn’t crazy about crowded bars, but he’d promised himself to be social with his colleagues at Caltech. He’d had a small, built-in circle of friends who had moved from Sacramento to Berkeley. But he couldn’t depend on them anymore.

Not that he was looking for a particularly active social life. But some of the guys at
Caltech seemed interesting, so he was going to stretch his wings a little.

“We’re
going to Sapphire Sunday,” Ryder called. “Meet you there.”

Morgan
couldn’t stop a flash of anticipation at the thought of seeing Amelia. She’d been working at Sapphire Sunday for a while now. He heard her come home late most nights, the front door bang, the shower go on, her soft background music just barely wafting through the walls as she got ready for bed.

He’d discovered that s
he listened to white noise while she slept. It had taken him awhile to figure out where the sound of the waves had been coming from. He liked it. In fact, the one night she’d kept her patio door closed, he’d missed it.

As he made his way to the parking lot, he couldn’t help but wonder what she’d think of him showing up at Sapphire Sunday. Then he realized he was being ridiculous. She wouldn’t think anything of him showing up. She likely didn’t think about him at all. He hadn’t even spoken to her since they’d barbecued burgers last Sunday
, when he’d watched her dive into the red velvet cupcake with such gusto.

There’d been two
cupcakes left at the end. So, for the next two days, he’d gotten turned on eating dessert. It was pathetic. But the second he tasted the butter cream icing, he’d picture her in that thin, pale blue dress, the soft sweater delineating her slim shoulders and rounded breasts.

Her eyes were
moss-soft when she laughed. The sound was enthralling. Her cheeks would flush, and those perfect red lips would grin across sparkling white teeth. He knew she’d never be anything more than a fantasy. But logic and reason were no match for hormones, so he’d been letting his imagination run with it for the past few nights.

When he walked through the front door of Sapphire Sunday, he spotted her right away. God help him, she was e
ven more perfect in real life. Tonight, she wore a simple, black cocktail dress. It was sleeveless, with a scooped neckline and a slim silhouette. The hemline was at mid-thigh, showing shapely legs that were elongated by a pair of strappy, spiky, black sandals.

She pivoted, a full tray of drinks in her hand, smiling brightly
at a table full of businessmen as she deftly set down glass after glass. They were out of earshot, but she seemed to chat easily, responding to whatever they were saying.

“Morgan,”
came Ryder’s voice from a corner of the big room.

Morgan dragged his gaze from Amelia and
started for the table where Ryder, Herb and Cole were taking their seats.

“
Did you do the Black Ridge trail?” Cole asked, referring to Morgan’s bike-riding trip they’d discussed earlier in the week.

Morgan sat down in a wood and red leather captain’s chair. “Went
up as far as the falls, but I started to lose the light.”

“
That’s impressive for an evening ride,” said Cole.

“I took off
from the lab at four,” Morgan said. He’d come in early that morning to test out a theory that had been percolating through his brain all night long.

“If you deci
de to try Mikes Peak this weekend, give me a call.”

“Sounds good,” said Morgan.

“Not enough excitement for me,” Ryder put in. He’d grown up in Southern California and spent most of his weekends surfing with his old buddies.

“Too much excitement for me,” Herb joked. “
Saturday night, I’ll be cooking. This weekend, it’s baby artichokes barigoule, rack of lamb with dried cherry cognac glace, chanterelle mushroom risotto, and chocolate raspberry soufflé.”

“
You have a date?” asked Ryder.

“No,” Herb
said. “But, if I ever do I’ll...” His gaze moved to a spot above Morgan’s head.

Morgan felt
a light touch on his shoulder.

“Hello, Morgan.”

He quickly turned his head and caught Amelia’s smile.

“Thank
s again for dinner last weekend,” she said.

“It wasn’t anything fancy,” he found himself apologizing
. He couldn’t help contrast the grilled burgers with Herb’s culinary extravaganza.

“It was fantastic.” She included the rest of the tab
le in her smile. “Can I get anyone a drink?”

It took a second for
any of them to speak up.

“
A beer,” said Cole. “Whatever you have on tap.”

“Same for me,” said Ryder.

“A glass of the Blackarch merlot,” said Herb.

She looked to
Morgan.

“A martini.”
He decided he needed a bit of a punch. “Dry, with a twist.”

“
Any particular brand of gin?”

“Do you have
Tandee?”

“We do.”

“That’ll be fine.”

“Great to see you, Morgan.”

She turned, and he watched her walk away.

A patron at a table filled with what looked like frat boys, reached for her as she passed. Morgan stiffened, but she deftly sidestepped the jerk, continuing on to the bar.

When Morgan turned back to the table, all three men were silently staring at him.

“Who the hell was
that?” asked Ryder.

“You had dinner with her?” asked Herb.

Cole just grinned and waggled his brows.

“She’s my
next-door neighbor,” Morgan admitted.

“Nice neighborhood
.” Cole smirked.

“I helped her move a sofa on Sunday. We grilled some burgers. That was all.” Morgan didn’t feel comfortable giving the guys the wrong impression.

Still, his gaze trailed back to her.

She’d moved to the frat boys
’ table, but she looked relaxed, as if she was taking their crudeness in stride. She took some notes on her pad, asked a couple of questions, laughed and shook her head, then turned to move away.

As she did, Morgan caught
a change in her expression. For a fleeting second, she looked annoyed and exasperated. But then she approached yet another table, and she smiled warmly at the couple sitting there.

“
Wonder how she feels about dried cherry cognac glace,” Herb speculated.

Morgan shot him a warning glare. “
You’ll never find out.”

“
Ahhh,” said Ryder.

Morgan realized his mistake. “There’s no
ahhh,” he informed them. “She’s nice, sweet, a little bit naïve. She doesn’t need any of you guys hitting on her.”

“Call me pessimistic,” said Ryder
, “but I don’t think she’ll be swooning at any of our feet anytime soon.”

Morgan realized that was true. “She was a cheerleader at
U of Arizona.”

“I’ve got nothing against cheerleaders,” said Herb.

Cole came back with, “yeah, but cheerleaders have something against you.”

“You never know,” Herb countered. “Don’t underestimate the power of chocolate raspberry soufflé.”

Morgan couldn’t help remembering the red velvet cupcakes. His glance went to Amelia again. She was back at the frat boys’ table. But this time, she had a tray laden with drinks, so she wasn’t as nimble. The frat boy who had reached for her was moving way too close. He deliberately brushed her forearm with his shoulder.

Morgan rose from his chair, maneuvering around the other tables until he came to Amelia.

“Sorry to interrupt.” He spoke loud enough for the grabby frat boy to overhear. “But what time are you coming home tonight?”

Amelia blinked at him in confusion. “Ah,
I get off around midnight.”

Morgan glanced at
Frat Boy, then back to Amelia. “Sounds good. I’ll pick you up then.”

Like she had done to him, he gave her a light squeeze on the shoulder. Then he gave
Frat Boy one final warning look. “Have a good shift.”

o
o o o

To Amelia’s surprise, Morgan was waiting in the parking lot when her shift ended. He rose from the driver’s seat, standing beside his
Aston Martin to wave her over. She gave a quick goodbye to the other two waitresses who took the bus and made her way to his car.

“You shouldn’t have stayed,” she breathed. “I thought you were joking.”

“I promised you a ride.”

“I know. But that was a ruse. I got what you were doing.”

And he’d done it so deftly. She couldn’t help being impressed. He’d used brains rather than brawn to shut the annoying customer down, ensuring there was no argument or confrontation. It hadn’t even impacted her tip.

Morgan rounded the hood to open the passenger side door. “He was a little jerk.”

“Unfortunately, guys like him are an occupational hazard.”

“Doesn’t the manager help?”

“He will if I ask. But you learn to spot who’s going to cross the line.” She lowered herself on to the seat, swinging her legs inside. It was a treat not to have to wait for the bus and then trudge two blocks uphill to her condo in high heels.

“Do you mind that I intervened?” Morgan asked.

She reflexively smiled at that, and their eyes met. “Not at all. You were perfect.”

He held her gaze for a moment
, something shifting in the depths of his blue eyes, arcing awareness between them. His tone went husky. “I’m glad I was there.”

She wanted to capture the feeling, hang
on to the emotion, push it, explore it, see where on earth it might lead. But she knew that was a silly idea. He was a genius with a plum job, while she was a waitress. They were about as different from each other as you could get.

“They gave me a good tip,” she said instead, turning her attention to the
seat belt.

“That was the
very least they owed you,” Morgan said as he pushed the door closed.

“I could have
easily taken the bus,” she pointed out as he entered from the other side.

“
I didn’t want to disappoint you.” He reached forward to turn the key.

Her gaze rested on his profile
, and she couldn’t help thinking that with a makeover he could be a leading man. “You’ve never disappointed me, Morgan.”

“Good to hear.” He pulled straight ahead,
crossing the empty parking lot. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Saturday?
Yes.” She nodded. “Busiest night of the week, as you can imagine. I’ve got Monday and Tuesday off next week. I’m going into LA. There are three open auditions on Monday.”

She was a little excited
, a little scared.

“What are the parts?”
he asked conversationally.