Mistletoe Matchmaker. Lissa Manley

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       Molly peered around him, her gaze landing on his already well-used work area. “Looks like you’ve been at it for a while.”

       “Yeah.” He swiped a hand over his face. “Pretty much all day.”

       “Maybe you could use a breather.”

       His thoughts exactly. He hated to admit it, but she was probably right.

       “Everyone needs to eat, don’t they?” she asked when he didn’t respond. “Doesn’t spaghetti sound good?”

       His stomach growled. “I don’t want to impose.” Although, a home-cooked meal was sounding better and better. He’d eaten a quick breakfast of toast and eggs early this morning, but hadn’t eaten anything since. Not surprising he was starving.

       “Oh, you wouldn’t be imposing,” she said. “I’d be cooking for myself, anyway, so it’s no trouble.”

       “You’re very persuasive.” He’d have to watch out.

       “I’ve been told I’m quite stubborn,” she said, lifting her chin.

       “I can tell.” Actually, he kind of liked that about her. And, really, it would be rude to refuse her offer. He knew she was just trying to help, as his aunt had wanted.

       Making a snap decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret, he stepped back and gestured Molly in. “You’ve talked me into dinner, on one condition.”

       She looked expectantly at him, her green eyes questioning. “Which is?”

       “I don’t want you to be waiting on me. So I’ll help you get dinner together, okay?”

       She paused, shaking her head, her curls swaying with the motion. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary.”

       “I insist. You’ve had a long day, too, and I’m sure you’re tired. If we work together, we can turn out a meal in no time.” And he could get back to work faster, refueled and ready to tackle his code with fresh focus. Actually, if he ate a hearty meal, he’d probably get more work done. Another reason to agree to her deal.

       “O…okay,” she said, sounding strangely reluctant to agree. “I still have to drop the lures by Floyd’s house, so I guess it would be nice to finish up here early.”

       “Exactly,” Grant replied, nodding.

       “Great. So, let’s get started.” She moved around him and headed toward the homey kitchen, her soft, breezy scent hitting him when she walked by.

       Boy, she smelled good. Kind of like flowers in a meadow, all sweet and warm and fresh. Suddenly, hanging out in the kitchen with her did sound great.

       Uneasiness snaked through him. Maybe too great for a man who didn’t want to get caught up in any woman ever again.

       Molly unloaded the food for dinner onto Rose’s tile kitchen counters, her hands so clumsy she almost dropped the loaf of French bread she’d brought.

       She very deliberately set the bread on the counter, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She needed to simmer down and focus on finding out more about Grant so she could figure out who to set him up with.

       Simple.

       The thing was, cooking for Grant was a lot different than cooking with Grant.

       That thought was reinforced when Grant entered the room, Jade at his heels adoringly, and he brought his charming self right into Molly’s space. Yes, indeed. Rose’s kitchen was small, Grant was big, and somehow preparing a meal together held the promise of a closeness that rattled her to no end. She wasn’t here to act on any attraction she might feel. She was here to learn more about him to find his perfect match.

       She gripped the edge of the counter, watching Jade plop herself down in the corner and lay her head on her paws, her black eyes watching everything.

       “What do you want me to do?” Grant asked, looking around the kitchen. He moved closer, then reached over and picked up a fat onion she’d unloaded. “You want me to demolish this baby?”

       Trying to keep her wits about her, Molly zeroed in on the knife block to her right. She grabbed a big blade suitable for chopping. “Here you go,” she said, handing it to him, careful not to touch his hand. She spied the cutting board next to the sink and picked it up. “You’ll need this, too.”

       He put the knife down and took the board from her. “Okay. I’ve got tools. I’m sure I can figure out how to slice and dice.”

       She peered at him. “Have you ever chopped an onion?”

       He shook his head as he retrieved the knife and held it up in the air. “No, I sure haven’t.”

       “Um…you want me to show you how?” Chopping lessons seemed harmless enough.

       He grabbed the onion and eyed it. “Nah, how hard can it be?”

       Relief and disappointment hit her at once, creating a strange kind of off-balance feeling inside of her she didn’t really like. She gestured to the cutting board. “Have at it, then. I only need half.”

       He threw the onion in the air and deftly caught it with one hand, grinning. “Half a chopped onion for Chef Molly, coming right up.”

       My, he was cute. Put him in front of a grill with tongs in his hand and she was his.

       Disconcerted all over again, Molly spun around and opened the refrigerator to hunt for salad makings.

       Bent over, she rustled around in the fridge, then jerked one of the lower drawers out, pawing her way through the produce Rose had obviously bought for Grant.

       “So,” she said, focusing on her goal of learning as much as possible about Grant. “Do you read much?” She shoved a bag of baby carrots aside, searching for lettuce.

       “Do I do what much?” Grant replied after a long moment.

       “Read.”

       “Deed?”

       “No, read, as in books,” she yelled. Suddenly, a mental picture of herself developed in her brain, and the picture showed her hunched over, yelling into the refrigerator.

       “Deed the rooks?”

       Oh, brother. She grabbed the elusive lettuce at the bottom of the bin and straightened, chastising herself for being flustered. Grant was just a man, no more, no less. The fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous shouldn’t matter.

       She whirled around, shoving her hair out of her face. Time to be reliable and fulfill her promise to Rose by doing her matchmaker thing. Without acting like a twelve-year-old hanging out with her first crush.

       She looked at Grant. He had his eyebrows drawn together and the knife suspended in midair. Obviously, he was puzzled by her behavior. Who could blame him?

       He probably thought she was a bona fide nut job.

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