Mix 'N Match (No Match for Love) (26 page)

“Unbelievable,” Zoey muttered.

“There’s your tracker,” Adelaide said.

The back of the sticker was criss-crossed with gray lines, a miniature circuit board betraying them to the paparazzi. Alan knew everywhere they’d gone since leaving California.

It had been Mitch all along. Two weeks he’d blamed Zoey, but it was his fault, not hers.

“This is one of ours,” Mitch said.

“What do you mean?” Zoey asked.

Mitch held the chip out to her with a shaking hand. “Ryder Communications makes these. They’ve been on the market a few years now. Luke’s dad had a team develop them.”

“For what?” Zoey asked, incredulous.

“It started out as a gimmicky product to help parents keep track of easily lost items, like their kids’ shoes. But then we developed a more sophisticated version, with a longer tracking range, to place on young children for their parents’ peace of mind. The bracelets are a lot more popular. We don’t make many of the stickers anymore.” Which was probably why the possibility had never even entered his mind.

His fault. Not Zoey’s. He’d been so arrogant, so
stupid
.

“How is it still transmitting?” Zoey asked. “We’ve been walking around the city for days. We played in a puddle, for heaven’s sake.”

“They make the trackers waterproof since they were originally used on shoes,” Mitch said. He ran a hand over his hair, the tracker still in his other hand. He couldn’t believe that it had been him all along.

He’d been so wrong about Zoey. Judged her so harshly.

“Put it back on your shoe,” Zoey said.

“What?”

“Now that we know how he’s tracking us, we should use it to our advantage.”

“You don’t want us to destroy it?” Ricard asked, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“No,” Zoey said. “If we destroy that tracker, how are we going to lead Alan to the fake wedding and convince him it’s real?”

She was right. Bile rose in Mitch’s throat as he slowly placed the tracker back on his shoe, pressing it flat against the leather. “We’ll keep the tracker,” he told Ricard. “But please search the rest of the apartment so we can make sure it’s the only one.”

“Of course,
monsieur
,” Ricard said.

He and Adelaide left the room, but Mitch remained on the edge of Zoey’s bed, feeling numb.

His fault. Alan could very well crash Brooke and Luke’s wedding, but Zoey wouldn’t be the one to blame.

A hand landed on his back, and Mitch looked over to see Zoey staring at him with concerned eyes. She slowly rubbed circles on his back. “I can’t believe he’s been tracking us,” she said. “I really thought they’d find nothing.”

“It was me all along,” Mitch said.

“You couldn’t have known.”

Mitch rubbed a hand over his face, mind churning. “I don’t understand how he got the tracker on my shoe.”

“I know, it’s weird. I mean—” Zoey’s eyes widened. “I dropped my purse.”

“Huh?”

“At the charity gala. I dropped my purse right in front of you, and Alan picked it up. He must’ve stuck it on your shoe then.”

And Mitch hadn’t suspected a thing. “This is unbelievable. All this time, it was my
fault.”

“It was an accident. Things happen.”

“How are you not furious with me right now?”

“Mitch, come on. It’s not like you’ve intentionally been feeding Alan our location. You’ve been working your butt off to keep him away.”

“Unsuccessfully.”

“You can’t beat yourself up over this. He could’ve just as easily tagged me.”

“So why didn’t he?”

“I don’t know.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I was wearing stilettos that night, so he would’ve had to place the sticker on the sole of my foot—not exactly easy to do unnoticed. Besides, women change shoes frequently. You wear the same pair every day.”

His dependability had been their downfall. He stared at Zoey. He’d never considered her spontaneity an asset.

“This means he knows where Luke’s apartment is,” Mitch said.

“The doorman will keep him out.”

“Brooke and Luke can’t stay here when they come.”

“Then we’ll book them a hotel suite.” She ran her hands up and down his arms in a comforting gesture. “This is good news, Mitch. We know how he’s tracking us. We can use it to make sure he believes the fake wedding.”

“If we’d found the tracker earlier, there’d be no need for such an elaborate plan.”

“Okay, you are done obsessing over this.”

“We need to figure out—”

“And we will. Later. You need to take a half hour and calm down.” Zoey stood, pulling him up with her.

“We don’t have time to calm down.”

“We don’t have time not
to.”

Mitch stared at her, and then his shoulders slumped. His way wasn’t the only way. It wasn’t even the best way. He needed to allow Zoey the freedom to take the lead. They were better when they worked together.

“What do you have in mind?” Mitch asked, his voice wary.

Zoey pulled him into the living room and pushed the coffee table up against the wall. Mitch could hear Ricard and Adelaide sweeping for bugs in his bedroom.

“Yoga,” Zoey said.

Yoga. He could already feel his breathing slowing, just at the suggestion. “You do yoga?”

“I’ve taken a few classes at the gym.” She sank to the floor with her legs beneath her, stretching until her forehead touched the ground in resting child pose. Her hair fell forward, brushing the floor, and her shoulders relaxed and arms extended as she let out a slow breath.

I love her.
The realization took his breath away.

She pulled her hair aside and peered up at him. “Well, are you joining me or what?”

Mitch stripped his suit jacket off and sank to the floor beside her, assuming the pose.

He. Loved. Zoey.

He had stubbornly blamed her for leading Alan to them. He had argued with her almost constantly. He had refused to recognize that her way might also be right and had tried to force her to conform to his ideas.

But Zoey was perfect just the way she was. She had flaws, but so did he. And together, they balanced each other out.

Zoey slowly arched out of resting child and rose to downward dog. Mitch followed her lead, letting the breaths clear his mind as his muscles stretched and released the tension.

He would be a fool to let Zoey go. She made him feel alive the way no other woman had. She made him more relaxed, more fun, but didn’t try to change him. He loved the person he was when they were together, and he felt like he was missing a limb when they were apart.

This weekend, they would hold a wedding for Alan’s sake. Zoey would wear a white dress—okay, this was Zoey, so the color was up for debate—and walk down an aisle toward him. They would say “I do” in front of the minister and government representative.

And he wanted the wedding to be real.

Zoey stared at herself in the mirror, smoothing down the filmy skirt on her sky blue dress. She adjusted the top and fluffed her hair, then nodded. She was rehearsal ready.

Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked them back. She’d missed Brooke the last two weeks. She and Luke had arrived in Paris two days ago, but Zoey and Mitch hadn’t seen the couple yet—they’d been too busy distracting Alan from the real wedding with plans for the fake one. But tonight, Zoey would finally see her best friend again.

Zoey would focus on that. Not Alan. Not her own maybe-wedding. Not on the fact that after tomorrow, she and Brooke would no longer be roommates.

Brooke was finding her happily ever after. That was a good thing.

Zoey and Mitch had spent most of the day apart, running separate errands for both the real wedding and the fake one. It had felt strange to be away from him. Wrong. As she tried to pick flowers for her bouquet or a menu for their post-wedding dinner for two or a million other small details, she’d found herself longing for Mitch’s calm and decisive manner. Which was stupid. She’d survived a long time on her own. So why could she suddenly not imagine life without him?

A light knock sounded at the door, pulling her from her thoughts. Zoey put her hands to her suddenly blazing cheeks, shaking her head. Her stomach should not be trembling like this after only eight hours apart.

“Come in,” Zoey said.

The door creaked open, and Mitch poked his head inside. “Are you ready?” he asked.

Zoey’s heart pounded, and she had to fight the urge to throw herself across the room and into his arms. He looked so dashing in his traditional black tux, the white of his shirt making his skin an even deeper black. She’d missed him so much today.

Zoey grabbed her small clutch off the bed and nodded. “Ready.”

Two bellboys were already in the front room, their arms overflowing with garment bags and boxes holding various items for Zoey and Mitch’s fake wedding. Zoey took a deep breath, trying to stop her heart from racing.

Maybe they wouldn’t have to go through with the wedding. Maybe Alan had given up and gone home.

Mitch held open the door, and they made their way to the elevator, the bellboys following behind them.

“Any sign of Alan?” Zoey asked.

Mitch nodded. “He’s been following me most of the day, but he hasn’t tried to talk to me. Phillipe and I lost him a few times so he wouldn’t get suspicious. He’s here now. Luke’s security noticed him across the street about an hour ago. All the errands today must’ve convinced him the wedding is happening soon.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, but what about the rehearsal at Versailles? We’re not going to let him follow us there, right?”

Mitch ran a hand over his hair, and they stepped into the elevator. “Luke and I discussed that. I’ve worn these shoes every day since we got here. Alan will get suspicious if we’re suddenly stationary for an entire night.”

“But if he follows us to the rehearsal, he’ll see Brooke and Luke.” And the last two days of avoiding them would be for nothing.

“I know, but we also need him there for our wedding. And if we let him follow us there for ours, he’ll see Brooke and Luke’s rehearsal. So they’ve decided to reschedule it for tomorrow morning and just have the family dinner tonight.”

Zoey grabbed Mitch’s arm, feeling dizzy. “Wait. Brooke knows about the fake wedding?”

“No, but Luke convinced her Alan might give up by morning, and it would be safe then.”

Zoey shoulders ached with tension. “I guess that means it’s our job to convince him our wedding’s real.”

“Yeah.” The elevator doors pinged open, and Mitch ran a hand over his face. “I feel like such an idiot.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“Telling Luke about the tracker was humiliating.”

“He doesn’t blame you.”

“I know. That’s almost worse.”

Zoey frowned, wishing she could wipe the worry off Mitch’s face. She’d thought the worst possible thing would be if the security firm found a tracker in her purse. But now she wished Alan had been following her instead of Mitch, because she hated seeing him beat himself up.

Zoey pushed open the glass doors, and the bellboys loaded the wedding attire into the back of the car trunk. Zoey and Mitch slipped inside the car, and a moment later, Phillipe pulled into traffic.

Zoey glanced out the rear window, searching for Alan. A few car lengths back, a black motorcycle followed them. The rider was generic enough—black leather riding jacket, silver helmet, and jeans. But the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she knew it was him.

“See him?” Mitch asked.

“Maybe.”

“Phillipe, take a turn here,” Mitch said. “Let’s see if he follows.”

“
Oui.
” Phillipe took a sharp left. Alan stayed on their tail, but remained a safe distance behind them.

“Crap,” Zoey said. “And now he’s trying to be discrete.”

“He doesn’t want to risk losing us. I’m betting he can sense the wedding’s close.” Mitch patted her knee, causing shivers to ricochet up her spine. “This is a good thing. He saw us load all the wedding attire into the car.”