Finding Forever

Finding Forever

Christina Jones

Copyright 2014 by Christina Jones

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and scenarios are a direct product of the author’s ridiculous imagination. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, any events, locations, or business establishments is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any way without express written permission from the author. The only exception is the use of quotes for the purpose of reviews or promotion.

Cover art by Christina Jones at
Visual Luxe

After her latest ill-fated attempt to find a forever relationship of her own, Tori Kennedy is content with connecting the dots for others, bringing them together in pursuit of lifetime love. Fresh off of the demise of her marriage, she decides to take advantage of an opportunity to do something a little — okay, a lot — crazy, and heavily fueled by an overload of emotions. 
Thinking that her impulsive decision and its disastrous results are behind her, Tori moves forward with her pursuit of a happily single existence, until her best friend contacts her with a request that places a constant reminder in her life : Avery. 
Avery Anderson is the epitome of “the kind of guy your momma warned you about.” Handsome, successful, charming… and not at all interested in being roped into anything that resembles love. Tori ending up in his bed doesn’t surprise him at all — it’s just what he does— but his feelings afterwards? That’s another story. An ultimatum placed on him by his little sister puts him back in arm’s reach of the pretty matchmaker that he can’t get off of his mind, but she’s not taking the bait this time. 
Tori just wants to be rid of him so that she can move on with her life, and it’s not Avery’s style to chase someone who doesn’t want to be caught. When both parties are content to let the spark flicker out, can love — or something like that— still lead the way to forever?

—
A word from the author –

I hope you enjoy Tori and Avery’s story.

I would love you know what you thought! You can share with me by leaving a review, visiting me at my website
www.beingmrjsones.com
(you can email me there, from the contact page)
adding me as a friend on Facebook at
https://www.facebook.com/Christinacjones
or connecting with me on twitter, at
@beingmrsjones
 

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Other Titles By Christina Jones:

Love and Other Things

Strictly Professional

Unfinished Business

The Trouble With Love

Coming Soon:

Catch Me if You Can

&

The sequel to
Love and Other Things
:
Nothing But Love

— 1 —

— Tori —

Just breathe, Tori. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

I took a deep breath as I stood back from the mirror to inspect the
third
reapplication of my makeup. There was nothing I could do about the tear-induced redness rimming my eyes, but at least the rest of my face was flawless.

Briefly—
very
briefly— I considered sneaking out of the resort and catching a cab back the airport. I could hop on a plane back to Dallas, or straight to wherever the hell Rafael was, and try to convince him that my drastic decision had just been a big mistake. A misunderstanding, a failure in communication… just a complete overreaction on my part. But… is there really such a thing as an overreaction to pictures splashed across the internet of your husband “entertaining” several of his fans at once?

No. No, there is not.

Nevertheless, there was no reason for me to travel
that
road, because it would only lead to another round of makeup-ruining tears. I shook the images from my mind, took another deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and held my head high. There was nothing to be gained from dwelling on stupid mistakes— at least not today. Today was not about me; it was about celebrating my best friend, Desiree, as she married the love of her life. With my mind focused on that, I pulled open the door of the bathroom and stepped out, immediately colliding with the chest of someone passing by.

Strong arms closed around me, offering balance as I tried to steady myself on my feet. “Are you ok?”

Ooh.

My heart began to race as the soothing timbre of his voice swept through me, sending a pleasant tingling sensation up my spine.

“Yes,” I replied, blushing as I took a step back, tripping over the train of my bridesmaid dress in the process. He caught me again, offering a smile that could only be described as seductive. Giving him a quick, but thorough once-over, I realized everything about this man was sexy.

Tall?
Check.

Broad shoulders?
Check.

Sculpted jaw, straight nose, heavy brows, and full lips?
Check, check, check, and check.

Well-groomed facial hair?
Double check.

And his
eyes
. Dear God, those eyes. Deep, soulful brown pools I stared into for so long I nearly forgot where— and
who
— I was.

“You
sure
you ok? You look like you’ve been crying, and I—”

“No, I’m fine. Really,” I stammered as I stepped away, being careful not to stumble this time. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the bride.”

Turning on my heels, I attempted to walk away, but the feeling of warm fingers around my wrist stopped me. “Wait a second,” he said, tugging gently on my arm to get me to face him. “You’re Tori, right?”

I simply nodded, trying to avoid his eyes. I couldn’t get caught up in them again, especially when a touch as simple as his hand on my wrist had me feeling hot and bothered. What the hell was wrong with me? I was supposed to be grieving over the end of my marriage, not salivating over some stranger — a tall, sexy stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

“I was looking for you, actually. I’m Desiree’s brother, Avery.”

“Oh! Oh, wow, hi! Nice to meet you. I knew Des had a brother, but…” I caught myself before I finished the sentence. Aside from me rambling like an idiot, Desiree kept very quiet about her brother, even though she claimed they were close. But, one of the few things I knew about Avery — from Des — was that he was private, so it made sense that he wasn’t a regular topic of conversation. Still, maybe Des could have mentioned her brother was
the
Avery Anderson, owner of the largest black-owner auto-repair chain in the south and Midwest.

I recognized him from the feature pages and websites of several business magazines I frequented. Many of his interviews reeked of arrogance, and he had a reputation for being blunt and demanding, but sometimes, in some fields, that’s just what it takes to get past the hurdles and become successful. His company, Ignition, was youthful and modern; a niche I never would have thought of for car repair, but it worked for him. Avery was wealthy, successful, and if I remembered correctly, he wasn’t even 35.

He gave me a slow, sexy grin, making my heart flutter a little. “But… what? Hey, don’t believe anything my sister said about me— unless it was good.”

I cut my eyes toward the ceiling, pretending to think about it with a grimace. “Ummm… unfortunately, that means I don’t have
anything
to believe about you.”

Avery broke into carefree laughter, and the sound tugged at the tightness that had been laying on my chest since I signed the final divorce papers two days before. “Nothing, huh?”

“Nope, sorry,” I teased, even as I nervously chewed my bottom lip, still trying — and failing — not to be drawn in again by his eyes. Avery still had me by the arm, and I was reluctant to pull away from the warmth of his touch even though something about this whole conversation felt too close for comfort.

“Well, even though everything you know about me is bad, can I still escort you to Des’ room? That’s actually why I was looking for you, Des is freaking out a little because she didn’t know where the maid of honor was and you weren’t answering your phone. I kinda promised her I would find you.
And
… maybe I can tell you some good things about me on the way.”

Before I could respond, Avery placed a hand against the small of my back — which was bare, due to the style of the soft coral dress Des had chosen for me to wear— and turned me in the direction of her dressing room. He let it linger there as we walked, a liberty I usually would have politely rebuffed, but the weight of his hand felt comfortable, warm, and just
good
. It was a little crazy that
this
was the most intimate touch I’d experienced — and enjoyed— in the last several months, and this would need to hold me over for the next… lifetime.

Prior to the short-lived disaster of my marriage, I’d concluded that I was one of ‘those’ women who were just meant to be single. I had abandoned that because of a teensy tiny spark of hope, but my plan now was to go back to the resolution I made before my now
ex
-husband Rafael had entered the picture. A forever relationship just wasn’t in the cards for me, so I had to be content with making the successful love connections for others that I couldn’t make for myself.

I enjoyed matchmaking. I’d taken my knack for finding romantic chemistry between others and paired it with science and logic to create
Matched
, a concierge-style service that coupled young, upwardly mobile professionals from all over the United States. I focused on that group because they were my peers, and I saw and felt the struggles they faced in finding compatible partners with whom they could spend their lives.

Rafael had been of those young up-and-comings. He’d waltzed into my office as if he owned it, and from the moment he dropped himself into the chair in front of my desk, the sexy rising actor owned me
.
Everything about him was magnetic. Smooth olive skin, thick, wavy black hair, and that accent of his was a source of instant arousal. Initially, I didn’t want take him on, because he was starting to gain popularity, and I didn’t want celebrity clients. They were notoriously hard to please, but he was so damned charming I couldn’t say no. I developed a little crush on him, and it killed me to send him on dates with any of the women in my database of singles, but I was being paid to do a job, and silly crush aside, I intended to do it well.

Rafael filled out a digital questionnaire I would use to assist in matching him. It asked questions some would find odd, given the context, such as how well they responded to sleep deprivation, if they liked pizza, even down to how often they thought was an appropriate number of times per week to vacuum the carpets. Those little nuances, however random, told much bigger stories about the compatibility between two people than they got credit for. The proprietary system I used, based on software algorithms I created myself, would take his results, and search the Matched database for suitable matches, then send those results straight to me. I would then use my own instincts to choose appropriate singles from the list of compatible potentials.

But, I made the stupid, stupid,
stupid
mistake of opening Rafael’s matches in front of him.

With my tablet in my lap, screen in full view, seeing my own smiling face tagged to the profile that was 94.28% compatible with Rafael shocked me into silence. When I dared to look at Rafael, seated right beside me, he was already staring at me with the sexy, superstar grin of his. He whispered something seductive to me in his native Portuguese tongue, and to this day, I think I must have blacked out, because the next thing I knew, I was pinned against the wall with my legs wrapped willingly around his waist, and he was inside of me. It was reckless, and stupid, and pretty far outside of character for me, but at that time in my life, I was ‘doing’ more than I was thinking.

That one mistake— matching
myself
with a client— led to a secret six month long relationship, followed by a secret month long engagement, followed by a secret year long marriage, concluding in a secret divorce that took three months to finalize. When I was in the midst of it, I thought it made perfect sense to keep my relationship with the Rafael under wraps. He was a rising celebrity, and that brought media scrutiny that neither my business nor I needed. How was I supposed to know Rafael would continue sleeping his way around the world, using his ‘need’ to appear single as an excuse for his behavior?