Thirteen Read online

Damn. He’d seen boobs before, plenty of them, and he never leered… Why were Thirteen’s breasts so interesting?

  She pondered aloud with a short hum. “I could ask you what you do for a living, but I already know that, so that would be a waste of time. I could sit quietly until you ask me what I do, but I’m going to lie, so that’s no better.”

  That took him aback. “You’re going to lie?” he asked, finally managing to stop staring at her breasts for long enough to make eye contact and drink some beer. Good, yes, he was pulling this back, take control. She was nodding. “Why would you lie?”

  “Because what I do is not very interesting and it won’t give you a hard-on.”

  Coughing out the beer he’d just tipped onto his tongue, Oak didn’t appreciate how one side of her lips tipped higher than the other. Wiping his mouth with his hand as he choked down the liquid that had managed to make it past his lips, he kept his eyes on hers.

  Who the fuck was this woman and why the hell was she here?

  Being hot, smart, and confident, Oak couldn’t see how she’d ever have any problem finding a guy to lead around by the balls. “Ok, I guess you want to play,” he said, compelled by a need to hold onto this conversation. Too many men were probably overwhelmed by her; she was undoubtedly used to making them blush and stutter. Oak wasn’t going to be one of those men. “Is that why you’re here? For sex?”

  Mirroring positions on each side of the table, he copied her move of linking his fingers to lean over his forearms. He didn’t have boobs to distract her with, but if he kept his eyes on hers, he could win this.

  She lifted a shoulder. “I’d say that’s why everyone’s here. Some might want all the love and romance bullshit that goes with it. But ultimately, yeah, everyone who signs up to your scheme really just wants to be fucked good and hard.”

  “Good and hard,” he muttered and broke his own rule because while his teeth stayed clenched, his eyes descended to her mouth. “You don’t want love and romance? Have you heard of Tinder?”

  Her smile was quick and she exhaled a laugh. Why did it give his pride a boost to make her laugh, especially such a pathetic little one that might not even have been genuine?

  “Tinder is good,” she said. “But there’s less charming conversation over there.”

  Did she really use that website to hook up with strangers? Her? A woman who could walk into any room, snap her fingers, and probably receive fifty marriage proposals in thirty seconds?

  “MatchMate members are supposed to be serious about finding love.”

  “Are they?” she asked, tipping her head to the side like he was educating her, but didn’t believe him for a second. “Have I been naughty? Am I going to be punished by the handsome, rich CEO?” Her eyes darted around like she was searching for something in her head. “I think there’s a movie about that.”

  The only thing Oak heard in that statement was that she thought he was handsome. A point for him. “Do you exchange numbers with guys at these events? Go home with them?”

  “Maybe,” she said like it was no big deal and it shouldn’t be, except for some reason, it was. Recognizing that he was pissed because he felt like his company was being violated, Oak had to concede that as long as she paid her membership fee, he shouldn’t give a damn. “If I do, I’m not the only one… Would you judge me more harshly than the men who invite me back to their beds?”

  Actually, yes, but not because he held double standards. Oak found it hard to imagine a guy who would refuse her.

  “You know how to manipulate men,” he murmured, searching her eyes as he tried to figure her out.

  She laughed again. “Oh, so it’s my fault? I’m an evil siren, singing to men who are helpless to resist my charms?”

  “I think if you tell a guy you’re not interested in love or romance, and flash your tits at him, he’s going to make assumptions about who you are.”

  “And what assumptions have you made?” she asked, narrowing her eyes and losing her humor. “That I’m a whore out to play with men’s emotions?”

  “Are you?”

  “A whore? Maybe,” she said. “But I’m not interested in anyone’s emotions except my own.”

  Cold, abrupt… alluring. “And that’s why you win every time,” he said. “Because with a body like yours and that tempting little mouth there isn’t a guy around who would stop calling as long as you’re offering to suck his dick.”

  Her short, sharp inhale was joined by her manicured fingers touching the swell of her breast. The expression of feigned shock on her face made him sure he was about to be chastised for his language. But her eyes flicked up just a fraction before she took her ass off her seat and slowly bent over the table.

  “Mr. Orion,” she murmured as she inched closer and closer to him. He couldn’t back off, he had to match her stare even if the way her eyes began to smolder was actually making his dick forget about her breasts, despite them coming closer. Tilting her head, she got so close that her breath warmed his lips. “You think my mouth is tempting?” Her voice lowered to little more than a vibration. “How dare you.”

  His lips opened, preparing to accept hers, then he heard a ding, and she was gone, sitting back down, pulling her phone from her purse, dismissing him without so much as a glance.

  Shit.

  What was he supposed to do? Get up and move onto the next one? What the fuck? She’d screwed his head so bad that he couldn’t even remember what number came after thirteen.

  But when a guy appeared at his shoulder, Oak had no choice except to get up. Snatching for his beer, he quickly shuffled along and planted himself in the next chair. He wasn’t even sure how the hell he was going to hold a conversation… didn’t even know what a conversation was anymore.

  He hadn’t even managed to look at the woman sitting opposite him when he heard the lilt of the sweetest, most innocent giggle coming from the table he’d just vacated. Who the hell was that?

  “Are you my Prince Charming?” the naïve murmur of an almost childlike voice drifted to his ears.

  “Is that what you’re looking for, honey? A knight in shining armor?” a male voice asked.

  Slowly standing to peek over the top of the separating screen, Oak was surprised to see Thirteen there, sitting back, chewing on her lower lip as she twisted her hips back and forth in the seat, making her whole body sway in an innocent arc.

  Tugging on a length of hair that hung over her breast, she twirled it around a crooked finger while blinking wide eyes that suggested butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  Her new date looked so pleased with himself as he turned to look the other way to check out the competition of who’d be next with this girl.

  Oak was too stunned by Thirteen’s quick personality change to be surprised when she lifted her eyes to his that were still peeking over the top of the screen, proving she’d felt him watching.

  Yeah, Oak had been caught looking, but what the fuck?

  Thirteen winked at him and her lips slanted in a brief saucy smile that vanished as soon as her current date turned back to her.

  Oak dropped into his chair and grabbed for his beer, obsessed with just one thought.

  What the fuck?

  two

  Thirteen left as soon as the last guy left her table.

  Oak knew it because he’d come up short when he sought her out as all the participants returned to the bar. That was the portion of the evening when the daters were supposed to fill out their comment cards, stating who they’d like to see again and who rated highly and not.

  MatchMate took negative feedback as well as positive and added it to members’ private notes, so that if they ever requested counselling or help from a dating advisor, they had a starting point established.

  Thirteen made no notes and didn’t wait to hear who wanted to see her again. Oak checked after, almost every single one of the men wanted a follow-up date with her. But she’d never be linked to any of them if her profile didn’t state an interest.
/>   Five days after the speed-dating event, he saw Miss. Thirteen again, standing at the bar waiting for a drink during a Friday night mixer.

  “So, who are you tonight?” Oak asked as he approached.

  She turned around and lost her blinking innocence as soon as she recognized him. The number on her chest stated that she was thirteen again. Odd, usually people had different numbers at every event; that was why everyone had a membership card, so their details could be taken and noted down to correspond to their new number each time they attended an event.

  “My skirt isn’t short enough for me to be sexy siren tonight,” Thirteen said, scanning the room behind him. “So it’s a tossup between simpering bimbo and bitter spinster.” She took a breath that suggested she was fed-up. “I’ll decide after I’ve had my first drink.”

  “Seems you don’t stick to just one style,” he said, sinking onto the stool next to where she was standing. She was shorter than he was, much shorter than he’d thought and it felt wrong to be sparring with her when his physical size dominated hers, not that she seemed to notice.

  “I like to mix it up if the night starts to get stale,” she said.

  “I’ll try not to be insulted that your night got stale after our date,” he said, resting an elbow on the bar.

  Grinning when the bartender came over with her drink, Thirteen hissed in a breath of satisfaction. “If I don’t get a bite tonight, I’m coming back for you, sweetheart,” she said to the bartender who smiled and winked at her. “Don’t leave without me.”

  “The Harley out back is mine.”

  “Oh,” she said, sipping her drink and pouting. She leaned toward the bartender who was lowering to her level and admiring her cleavage while he was at it. “I’ve always been a sucker for a motorcycle. What time do you get off? Or are you going to leave that to my discretion? You get a break, right?”

  “Yeah, at—”

  Oak twisted to glare at the bartender. “Customers need drinks, Sy.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sy said, clearing his throat and disappearing to the other end of the bar.

  Thirteen huffed and tipped more alcohol into her mouth. “Oh great, you’re one of those guys.”

  “Those guys?”

  Spinning to pin her displeasure on him, Thirteen wasn’t feeling so flirtatious anymore. “The ones who decide that since they haven’t tasted pussy in a while no one else should be allowed the pleasure. You’re clam-jamming.”

  Ducking toward her, he couldn’t believe that she was accusing him of… “I’m what?”

  Exhaling, she twisted to look at the clock above the buffet and took another drink from her martini glass. “Do you want me to suck your dick? Huh? Will that make you feel better and get you out of whatever funk you’re in? Let me guess, you’ve got a birthday coming up? Typical guy, you’re getting older, need to feel desired. Whatever. There’s a janitor’s closet between the restroom doors, just—”

  “A janitor’s closet?” he asked. The last time he’d spoken to her he’d told himself not to display any kind of shock at what she said, he didn’t want to be spitting beer everywhere again. But Oak couldn’t contain his astonishment. “You have sex with guys in the janitor’s closet?”

  She lifted a quick, straight finger. “Ah, I didn’t say I’d have sex with you, I said I’d suck you off.” Easing back, she looked him down and then up. He’d never felt so objectified. “Nope.”

  “Nope what?” he asked, watching her turn back toward the bar to pick up her glass again.

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  What had happened in the space of ten seconds that made her go from, “I’ll suck you off in the janitor’s closet” to “no, not interested”?

  “Why?” he asked, then cursed himself for asking because it didn’t matter.

  Oak hadn’t intended to sneak away into any closet with her. If they were going to hook up, he’d take her upstairs to one of the hotel rooms on the second floor. Wait, no, he wasn’t going to take her anywhere, he wasn’t going to have sex with her… of any sort.

  “I like MatchMate,” she said, leaning over the bar to check out the bartender’s ass without any kind of modesty or shame. “I like being a member.” At least she liked something about him. “And you said you’d never stop calling if I sucked your dick, so… yeah. If I did that, I’d have to quit MatchMate ‘cause you’d be calling and calling and calling…”

  Her ass was rising and falling as she lifted her weight onto her forearms to get a better look over the bar, probably at the bartender’s ass. She was too short to keep her feet on the floor as she did it, so she just bobbed there, distracting his sanity and making him wonder why she’d been so adamant about not having sex when clearly she had the rhythm down.

  That wouldn’t be a bad pace to start her at, slowly, gentle, tease her, torment her a little, let her think she was going to go insane waiting for him to get down to it for real. Yeah, that would put her sweet little ass in its place and that was what she needed, a guy with a strong hand and a stronger will than hers. She was a challenge and would be every single day.

  “How can I call you when I don’t even know your name?” he muttered.

  Her ass stopped bouncing and slid downward as she found her feet and twisted toward him. “You’re telling me you didn’t check out every woman at that speed-dating thing before you went?” she said, without concealing her suspicion. “You have access to all the membership records.”

  “Yeah,” he said, turning to rest his forearms on the bar. She hunched with him and their upper arms met. Damn, she was warm, and he’d never hated his shirt more. It didn’t matter that the cotton between them was thin; somehow it still felt like too much. “But checking up on my dates wouldn’t be sporting, would it? And it’s not the true MatchMate experience.”

  “Is that what this is about? Having the true MatchMate experience as part of your midlife crisis?”

  Tightening his fist around his bottle, Oak wondered if Thirteen had conspired with his sister to rile him. “I’m thirty-three.”

  “Huh,” she said, and although he didn’t look at her, he felt her looking at him. “Shame. Forty’s my minimum.”

  Spinning around, she was about to flounce off, so he grabbed her arm to hold her at the bar. “You can’t be more than twenty-six,” he said.

  Members did get to set preferences on the mate they were interested in finding, such as an age range, but usually they kept the parameters as wide as they could.

  “Twenty-eight,” she said and grinned as she leaned in. “I have daddy issues.”

  His hand slid from her arm as she walked away toward the buffet. It didn’t take long for the first guy to move in on her and Oak saw several others watch her progress with interest. Thirteen was the kind of woman who should be snapped up quickly, even with her apparent aversion to finding love. She couldn’t have been a member for long and probably wouldn’t be.

  “Isn’t this fun?”

  Turning, Oak saw Taylor jumping up onto the stool beside him. “Do you want a drink?” he asked, trying his best to ignore the files she had in her arms.

  “No,” she said. “I’m here for your autograph, not to distract you from finding true love.”

  True love had never seemed further away.

  Members were invited to their preferred locations, and they could note more than one. Some liked places closer to their work; others liked the MatchMate spots near their home. But they could pick any; some people wanted to put distance between them and their dates. They were also entitled to mix it up and could request invitation to any MatchMate get-together or buy tickets for special events anywhere.

  His number one preferred locale was right here. Trouble was, this establishment was their flagship site and part of the MatchMate corporate offices. So he worked right upstairs, giving his sister this chance to descend on him in his social time. Not that he felt particularly social right now.

  “Gimme,” he said, taking the folders from her and stacking
them on the bar before he opened the top one. “Did you bring a pen?” Taylor’s hand slid onto his face and when she drew him around to look at her, there was concern written all over her expression. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Dating makes me hate myself,” he admitted. “Always has. I really suck at it.”

  She smiled, a warm, reassuring smile, and brushed her thumb back and forth on his cheek. “No, you don’t. You’re just out of practice. You’ll find your groove.”

  “It’s not that,” he said and tried to look at the folder, but she strengthened her hand and wouldn’t let him.

  His sister’s concern hadn’t gone anywhere. “Then what?”

  “I’m great at the flirting and I love a challenge, you know I do, but…” He growled. “I hate the bullshit. Why can’t a guy just say to a girl, ‘Hey, you’re hot, you’re interesting, let’s do this.’ Why can’t that be enough?”

  “So what?” Taylor asked, a smile flirting with her lips. “You want to skip the fun part and jump straight into marriage?”

  Lowering to her eye level, he wanted her to know that he wasn’t playing. “I don’t have time for the fun part, Tay.”

  “Everyone has time for the fun part,” she said. “I was only kidding about your age; you’ve got plenty of time. You’re a guy… You can have kids in your seventies if it takes that long to find someone to love. If you have to wait until you’re fifty or a hundred to find it, wait as long as it takes.”

  “Just forty apparently,” he muttered, pissed at himself for wanting a woman who seemed to be the epitome of bullshit.

  “Aren’t you tired of dancing with me and Mom at all these stupid parties we go to? Wouldn’t it be nice to put your arms around a woman you feel something non-familial for? All the crap about kids aside, you need someone, Oak. Someone to talk to when you go home at night. Someone to share your worries and your dreams. You’ve taken care of me and Mom for long enough, we’re sick of seeing you throwing yourself on the pyre of self-sacrifice, doing everything you can to make sure we have good lives while yours passes you by. It’s time, Oak. You’re done. We don’t need you every minute of the day anymore. We’re all grown up.”