A Match Made by Cupid. Tracy Madison

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СКАЧАТЬ to work. A little mishap that nearly caused her to rear-end the car in front of her. Not to mention the so-not-fun sensation of steaming hot liquid drenching her thighs.

       But did she turn her car around and head toward home like any sane person would’ve done? No. Something she regretted hugely when she entered her office building, rushing because she was already late, and managed to catch her heel on the rubber floor mat in the lobby. She’d flown across said lobby like a bird with an injured wing, landing in a pile of coffee-soaked clothes in front of the bank of elevators. Minus one shoe, naturally.

       And now: this.

       Melanie scowled as she stared at the hastily scrawled message from her boss stuck to her monitor: Melanie! My office. ASAP!

       Why today? She’d hoped for a longer reprieve before being summoned by Kurt, the editor she worked for at the small newspaper in Portland, Oregon. How likely was it that he wanted to see her about something other than her latest column? Not very, she admitted to herself. Heck, she couldn’t even blame him. She’d crossed a line she shouldn’t have. Again.

       Shrugging off her coat, she plopped down in her chair. No, the blame could only rest on her shoulders. Her emotions had gotten the better of her. Mostly because of her mother’s latest broken heart. Loretta Prentiss had at least three of them per year, and it was always up to Melanie to help bandage together the pieces. Her mother was intelligent, attractive, the owner of a successful business, and ferociously devoted to finding her “one true love.”

       Too bad she had terrible taste in men.

       Loretta’s men, as Melanie called them, all fell in the “too” category: too suave, too handsome and too charismatic. They laughed too hard and too loud, and the far majority of them bleached their teeth a little too much. Basically, they were too good to be true.

       At least the latest heartbreaker had waited until after Christmas to commence with the wreckage. But with Valentine’s Day less than two months away, Melanie wished he’d put it off for another seven weeks. That he’d wined and dined Loretta and gifted her with some roses and chocolates before waltzing off into the sunset.

       Yeah, that would have been perfect, and so much easier on Loretta and Melanie.

       Melanie’s gaze landed on the note again, and she groaned. Giving advice that stayed on the right side of the line shouldn’t be so difficult. And now… Well, there was a better-than-average chance she was about to be fired.

       Maybe she’d be lucky and Kurt would assign someone else as the advice columnist and let her focus on her other tasks. It wasn’t as if becoming the next Dear Abby was her lifetime goal. In truth, the only reason she’d accepted the position was to get her foot in the door. It had taken her nearly five years after earning her degree to get this job.

       She’d considered herself fortunate to receive any offer. Especially with the undeniable fact that newspapers were laying off more people than they were hiring. So yes, she’d jumped at the position, even though her duties were mostly administrative in nature. Other than her column, she spent her time researching information and fact-checking for other staff members.

       Swearing under her breath, Melanie grabbed the bright yellow Post-it and crumpled it in her fist. What would she do if Kurt fired her? She had little to no savings—not because she spent money carelessly, but because she didn’t earn that large of a paycheck to begin with—and between her car payment and rent, she barely managed to make ends meet.

       She could ask her mother for a loan, but that might squeeze her an extra month at most. Her mom’s salon was successful, but not successful enough to support both of them for very long. Melanie tossed the balled-up note into the trash, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes in an attempt to ignore her building panic. In all likelihood, she was screwed.

       “Out partying too late last night, Mel?”

       The rich, melodic voice eased into her like sunshine on a cool day. The fact that such a voice came from such a man only served to irritate her more. Without opening her eyes, she said, “Not hardly. That’s your game, Jace.”

       “That’s where you have me wrong. I don’t play games.”

       She cracked one eye open and immediately wished she hadn’t. She’d never before come across a man who got to her the way Jace Foster did. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, tight hips, long legs, chiseled cheekbones and dark-chocolate eyes that promised long, sultry nights filled with tantalizing sex. She’d wanted him—no, she corrected herself, she’d yearned for him—from the moment they met. But dipping her toe into the water of the office’s resident playboy was a mistake she refused to make. Tenacity wasn’t the only lesson she’d learned from her mother, and Jace definitely fell in the “too” category.

       “Go away,” she said, closing her eye again. “I’m thinking.”

       “Go ahead and think, darlin’. I’m happy to wait…and watch.”

       Melanie felt him approach, heard him slide himself up on her desk, but she ignored him. Well, she tried to. She did okay until she heard the rat-a-tat-tat of a pencil tapping. Damn it!

       “I know you don’t see women thinking very often, so while I understand the appeal, I’d prefer to be left alone,” she said.

       He laughed, a deep rolling sound that unhinged something tight inside of her. And how frustrating was that? “I’m supposed to tell you that Kurt wants to see you posthaste,” Jace drawled. “Did you do something to irritate the head honcho?”

       Her eyes snapped open. “Since when did you become Kurt’s assistant? Are you bringing him his coffee now, too?”

       “Just passing the message along, like he asked.” Glints of humor, and something else, shone brightly in Jace’s eyes. As if he had a secret. He knew something, and he couldn’t wait for her to find out what that something was. She was sure of it.

       “Spill it. What’s going on?”

       Jace tucked the pencil behind one ear, his longish black hair covering most of it. Holding both hands in front of him, as if giving up the fight, he said, “Go talk to the boss. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

       Standing, she planted her hands on either side of Jace and leaned in close. The spicy scent of his cologne began a curl of heat deep in her belly. “What’s going on?” she repeated.

       “I said—” his head tilted forward “—go talk to the boss first.” He brought one hand up, his fingers touching her temple, and the heat of it forced a tremble that began at her toes.

       “Wh-what are you doing?” she stammered. A series of shivers stole over her, and for a breath-stealing second, she thought he was going to kiss her. Here. In the middle of the workplace. And why in Heaven’s name was that idea so appealing?

       Full lips turned upward at the corners in a smile that had surely charmed dozens, if not hundreds, of women before her. His fingers brushed back until they tugged gently at her hair. “I’m wondering when singed hair became the newest fashion statement, Mello Yello.”

       In an instant, the desire she’d began to feel evaporated. Pushing herself away, she centered herself by crossing her arms. “Bad morning. Is it about to get worse?”

       “Depends on your definition of worse.”

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