Mix 'N Match (No Match for Love) (14 page)

“If you have another solution, I’m all ears.”

He swallowed hard. “You want us” —he motioned back and forth between them— “to pretend we’re getting married?”

He acted like she’d asked him to eat a live scorpion. She forced her tone to be light and nonchalant. “You said yourself that Alan’s going to figure out we’re here for a wedding. So let’s convince him it’s for someone else. We’re the obvious candidates.”

Mitch’s fingers trailed along her wrist as he let go. “And you think we can pull it off?”

Ouch. There’d been something between them, once upon a time. The stolen kiss hadn’t been a marriage proposal, but that kind of chemistry didn’t just disappear overnight. At least, not for her.

“I don’t know if you’re capable of pulling off even a pretend serious relationship,” Mitch said.

Zoey blinked back the tears that burned beneath the surface. She’d deserved that. The kiss had freaked her out, and she’d handled the aftermath badly. She never should’ve gone out with what’s-his-face the next day, and she really shouldn’t have made out with him in public, near Ryder Communications, where Mitch would walk by on his lunch break and see them. But however much she was attracted to Mitch, he was the antithesis of her “seize the day” attitude, and the depth of her feelings had freaked her out. She could never be happy with someone so stern and type-A.

Could she?

“Don’t worry about me,” Zoey said. “You’re the one who sucks at acting.”

“And apparently you’re way too good at it.”

“This is for Brooke and Luke, okay? Do it for them.”

Mitch let out a groan, then nodded. “Plan A will be avoiding Alan. Don’t mention this to anyone unless we have to, okay? There’s no need to freak out Brooke and Luke for nothing.”

“Agreed,” Zoey said.

“I don’t know if we can play a believable bride and groom for the camera, so that’s a last resort.”

Zoey swallowed, forcing the hurt behind a door and locking it with a key.

They walked another block in silence, then crossed the street. Zoey laughed, pointing to the glass pyramid up ahead. Her annoyance—and okay, her hurt—evaporated, excitement bubbling up in its place.

“That’s it,” Zoey said. “That’s the Louvre.”

The former palace sprawled out, nearly as impressive as Versailles. It had to stretch on for miles and miles inside.

There was no way Alan would find them here.

Alan was in Paris. Just when Mitch thought this trip couldn’t get any more complicated. At least they’d lost him. For now.

Mitch stood on the escalator that carried them into the museum, a step behind Zoey. She had her cell phone out, grinning as she snapped another selfie. He shook his head, reminded vividly of Jasmine. Alan was in Paris, the wedding was about to become front page news, and Mitch was failing at his only job for the next two weeks. Which pretty much made his purpose in Luke’s life—and Mitch’s six-figure paycheck—obsolete. And if he had no job, and no money, then it wouldn’t matter if he convinced Jasmine to go back to school, because he’d have no means of paying for it.

And Zoey was taking selfies.

Luke’s your best friend,
he reminded himself. He wouldn’t fire Mitch if the wedding was leaked. But he would be disappointed, and that was almost worse.

“This is amazing,” Zoey breathed as they stepped off the escalator. The glass pyramid above them served as a skylight, and a large information desk splayed out in front of them. Zoey got in line, and soon they had purchased two tickets and were headed toward the Department of Paintings, where the Mona Lisa was housed.

Mitch barely registered the various works of art they passed on the way to the Mona Lisa. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that somehow Zoey had tipped their hand and leaked the location to Alan. He knew she hadn’t done it intentionally, or even verbally. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow Alan was tracking her. How else would he have figured out where they were?

“Are you even paying attention to this?” Zoey demanded. She flung her arm out, motioning to a painting that took up an entire wall. “Look at this! It’s survived more than two hundred years of natural disasters and wars and probably being stuck in some old lady’s attic, and now we get to pay fifteen euro a ticket to see it.”

Mitch folded his arms, trying to take in the painting. It was a scene of a war, maybe the French Revolution. Soldiers stood around a cannon, ready to fire. “I don’t think that would fit in someone’s attic.”

Zoey rolled her eyes and tugged on his suit jacket. “Oh, come on. The Mona Lisa should be right through there.”

Mitch followed Zoey, enjoying the gentle pressure on his arm. At moments like this, he could almost forget the way she’d completely brushed him off six months ago, like their stolen moments had meant less than nothing. They passed into the large gallery, and Mitch immediately knew which painting was the Mona Lisa by the flood of tourists around it.

Zoey pushed her way to the front of the crowd. A few people grumbled, but when the men saw her, they immediately stopped talking and ran their eyes up and down the length of her frame. Zoey wasn’t especially tall, but in those heels, her legs went on for miles. Mitch had the sudden urge to rip his jacket off and throw it over her shoulders. Zoey wasn’t dressed especially provocative—in fact, she’d donned a fairly professional look for the day—but the men still devoured her like she was a rib-eye steak.

“Oh my gosh, I see it!” Zoey yanked Mitch forward. His shoulder brushed hers, and he sucked in a breath. Heaven help him, he didn’t know how he would survive the next two weeks.

She kissed someone else hours after kissing you,
he reminded himself. More like mauled someone else. Their tongues had been so far down each other’s throats, it was a wonder they hadn’t choked to death.

“This is incredible,” Zoey breathed.

Mitch forced himself to stop staring at the back of Zoey’s head and take in the masterpiece. The area was roped off, and a glass case surrounded the framed painting. Mitch was surprised at how small it was, perhaps two and a half feet long by two feet wide.

“It’s tiny,” he said. For some reason, he’d expected it to be bigger.

“It’s amazing. This is one of the most famous paintings in the history of the universe, and we’re standing here, staring at it.” Zoey cocked her head and walked to the side, brushing past a few tourists with cameras as she kept her eyes on the painting. She walked to the corner of the glass box, then made her way back, passing behind the tourists to the other side. Mitch watched her progress, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face. Eventually she came back and stood beside him, her eyes still on the painting.

“What are you doing?” Mitch asked.

“Seeing if her eyes really follow you wherever you go.”

“And?”

She finally peeled her eyes away from the painting. A smile graced her lips, soft but at the same time mischievous. “See for yourself, Mr. Harris.” She placed a delicate hand on each of his arms, brushing up against his back. “Now keep your eyes on hers.” Her breath tickled his cheek, a soft exhale that had him falling off a cliff with no parachute. Gently, Zoey pressed against his right arm with her hand, urging him to the side. Mitch held his breath, his eyes locked on the painting, afraid of turning his head and seeing her full lips so close to his.

Zoey guided him first one way, then the other. He felt her skirt brush against his pant leg as his nerves unraveled.

“Well?” Zoey asked, her voice a soft whisper behind his ear.

Mitch swallowed. He hadn’t paid attention to the painting at all. “You’re right. Her eyes do follow you everywhere.”

Zoey’s hands dropped, and he felt the distance like a physical ache. “Now aren’t you glad you relaxed for five seconds to enjoy that? Not many people can say they’ve looked into the Mona Lisa’s mysterious eyes.”

“I am glad we have time to visit the sites,” Mitch said. He cleared his throat and blinked, forcing himself to act normal. “It’s not like I’ve purposefully avoided them before. I just haven’t had time.”

“Luke works you pretty hard, doesn’t he?”

Luke was constantly telling him to relax and take the night off. “Rick Ryder gave me an opportunity when I desperately needed one, and I can never repay him for his generosity. I will gladly work for Ryder Communications and do whatever is asked of me.”

“Even though Rick’s no longer alive?”

Mitch shrugged. “Luke’s every bit as good a man as his father was. He’s more than my boss—he’s my best friend.”

Something flickered across her face that he couldn’t quite peg. “I’m glad you had Ryder Communications, and I’m glad you have Luke. I admire your work ethic.”

Mitch felt his ears heat. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the silence. “So, what else do you want to see in this museum?”

“I’ve heard that Napoleon’s Apartments are amazing. Let’s go there next.”

For the next three hours, they wandered the Louvre. Zoey admired the artwork, and Mitch admired Zoey. There was a grace and confidence about her that was all too appealing. He didn’t like how she made him relax, how she made him want to be carefree and spontaneous. That didn’t pay the bills, and he’d do well to remember that it was exactly what had attracted him to her in the first place that ended up hurting him in the end.

He hadn’t been in love with Zoey, but he’d been heading down that path. And all he’d been to her was a make-out session in a dark corner of a restaurant during an engagement party that had probably bored her.

By the time they finished at the Louvre, it was late, and Zoey agreed that it would be best if they headed back to Luke’s apartment so they wouldn’t be tired for their appointments tomorrow. They were only a block from Luke’s high-rise when Zoey spoke.

“I haven’t seen Alan,” she said. “Maybe he isn’t following us after all.”

“He’ll show up eventually.” The fact he hadn’t already hopefully meant that he wasn’t tracking Zoey’s movements through her phone. Mitch would have a private security firm check tonight to be sure.

“If he does, I’ll do whatever necessary to distract him,” Zoey said.

Mitch’s muscles tensed, and his palms began to sweat. “Please don’t. Your distractions have a way of making things worse.”

“Is that all I am to you—a big screw-up?”

Mitch paused on the sidewalk, turning to face Zoey. “No, of course not. I just meant—”

“I’m sorry about this whole mess.” Her voice caught on the last word. “I would never intentionally do something to ruin Brooke and Luke’s wedding.”

The words sliced through him. “Is that what you think I believe?”

“You’ve made your opinion of me abundantly clear.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You see me as irresponsible and impulsive.”

Mitch shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, staring at the ground. “I know you mean well, but we really don’t need to antagonize Alan more than we already have.”

“Message received.” She stepped around him, head held high.

“Zoey, wait—”

“I know this is important, and I’m not going to mess it up. If you think a quiet, demur Zoey is the way to achieve our end goal, then that’s what you’ll get.”

“I didn’t mean—” A motorcyclist cut off a car, and the resulting honks drowned out the rest of his sentence. Not that he’d known what he was going to say.

Zoey paused, looking up at the sign above a doorway. “This is Luke’s place?”

Mitch nodded. The sign for the apartment complex was small and inconspicuous, tucked into the centuries-old building that had been renovated into a coveted piece of real estate. Mitch followed Zoey inside, and they rode the small elevator up to the fifth floor, where Luke’s penthouse apartment was housed. The silence between them was thick and strained.

Mitch unlocked the door and let them inside. He barely glanced at the room—he’d stayed here during two previous visits. The apartment was small by American standards, but filled with expensive materials and opulent decor. The door opened to a small living room, with a bedroom and private bathroom on either side.

“Zoey . . .” Mitch began. He’d hurt her feelings, and he didn’t know how to make it right.