Dear Mr. Right Now: The Matchmaker Series

  Dear Mr. Right Now

  The Matchmaker Series

  Kim Loraine

  Copyright © 2019 by Kim Loraine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Designer: Dandelion Cover Design

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Rosie

  2. Ben

  3. Rosie

  4. Rosie

  5. Ben

  6. Rosie

  7. Ben

  8. Rosie

  9. Ben

  Epilogue

  The Matchmaker Series

  This is our year

  Also by Kim Loraine

  About the Author

  Prologue

  BEN

  * * *

  “So you’re telling me I have two weeks to find a wife or I’ll lose two-billion dollars?” I have to repeat the words I heard because they are so ridiculous. The lawyer in charge of my grandmother’s estate stares at me in all seriousness. Franklin Washburn isn’t smug or greedy. He’s actually a stand-up guy. But I kind of wish he’d figure out a way to weasel me out of this clause.

  Franklin nods, the overhead lighting making his balding head shine with the movement. “Mrs. Elliott was very thorough when she had her will draw up last year. If you don’t marry by February 14th of this year, your inheritance will be reinvested in Elliott Enterprises and you will be left with nothing.”

  I drag a hand through my hair. This shouldn’t be a surprise. Grandmother is trying to control me even from beyond the grave. Fuck, I don’t even have a girlfriend to propose to. “How am I supposed to find a wife? I’ve been halfway across the world for the better part of a damn year.” Nine months traveling through the most remote parts of the southern hemisphere working on clean water projects didn’t leave time for romantic attachments. “I’ve only been back four days.”

  His expression changes to one of sympathy. “Might I make a suggestion?”

  I cock a brow. That’s exactly what I wanted when I asked him how I was going to do this. “Please.”

  “A matchmaker.” He scribbles something down on a piece of paper and slides it across his desk toward me. “It might seem old-fashioned, but I’ve sent others in your predicament to this particular agency and she’s had a ninety-nine percent success rate.”

  “Doesn’t she have a website or something?” I stare down at the physical address and phone number listed on the paper.

  “Grace is…discreet. Call her and she’ll get you taken care of. She’ll have you pen a letter with your needs, then she’ll have a match for you within a few days. Trust me.”

  Trust a lawyer? I frown down at the information in my hands and don’t say anything.

  “Just think of all the good you can do with the money you stand to inherit. Do you really want to let it all go back into her company?”

  My chest tightens. No. He’s right. I could fund multiple clean water projects, continue traveling and helping people. Keep my parents’ legacy alive.

  I stand and shake Franklin’s hand. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”

  He nods. “If you choose to marry, Mr. Elliott, make sure it’s legal. Marriage license, witnesses, etc. No annulment, no divorce for five years. There’s no way around this marriage clause. As I’ve said, your grandmother was very thorough.”

  I leave without another word. Honestly, I don’t think I can speak at the moment. I stare at the address and phone number again as I wait for the elevator. A heavy sigh leaves me when the doors open and as I step inside, I pull out my phone.

  It looks like I’m getting married.

  1

  Rosie

  * * *

  My phone rings from the pocket of my blazer and I wince. I forgot to put it on silent. My boss is going to ream my ass for the distraction. Scrambling for the damn device, I silence the call before turning the thing off completely.

  “Rosie! Is that a personal call?” Ms. Tate shouts from her office.

  Standing, I straighten my skirt before walking to her door. I knock and wait for three seconds before opening the door and peering inside the pristine space. “I’m sorry, Ms. Tate. I thought my phone was in do not disturb mode.”

  “Your constant distractions are really becoming a problem.”

  Constant? This is the second time in two years I’ve forgotten. “Yes, Ms. Tate. It won’t happen again.”

  She levels her icy gaze on me, then slowly looks me up and down. “You look like a streetwalker in that skirt. You clearly have no respect for this office.”

  Anger builds in my belly at the insult. I glance down at my black knee-length pencil skirt, nude pantyhose, and black pumps. I’ve never seen a hooker dress like this. “Excuse me?” The words fall from my lips before I can stop myself. I just questioned her. You never question Ms. Tate.

  The two other paralegals in the office gasp audibly and I know the hammer is about to drop.

  “Get out of my office. I’ve had enough of your insubordination.” She peers over the rim of her reading glasses and sneers. “You’re fired.”

  Tears burn the corners of my eyes, but not because I love this job. In fact, I hate it. But I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I need to work and the job market has been terrible over the last year. I shut the door behind me as I move back toward my desk in silence.

  “Rosie?” my co-worker Casey asks. “Are you okay?”

  I break out of my trance and take a shuddering breath. “No.”

  She places her hand on my shoulder. “You’re going to find something else. You’re great at this job.”

  “How? I won’t even have a reference. That’s two years of work, wasted on her.”

  “You’ll figure something out. I promise.”

  I pack my few belongings and fight a sigh of frustration when Toby, the building’s security guard shows up with his gaze on me. “Really, Toby?”

  He shrugs. “Ms. Tate requested you be escorted from the building.”

  I roll my eyes. I’ve put up with her shit for two years and this is how she sends me out? “Let’s go.” Fuck this place.

  By the time I reach the lobby, my tears have turned to anger. How did I let myself become this person…again?

  When I was in college, my boyfriend and I had made plans. We’d move in together, work our way through law school and both practice environmental law. We wanted to help the world become a better place. But, then he left. He sent me packing via text message and took a job in LA as an entertainment lawyer. I’d taken time off of school because one of us had to work. I’d supported the asshole and put aside my own dreams. Since then, I haven’t dated. I’ve worked to get out from under the crushing debt of my student loans and last month I made my final payment.

  I want more from my life than to be someone’s dumping ground. I deserve more. I want to help people, make a difference. I thought getting into the legal field would offer me that opportunity. Instead, I worked for a corporate lawyer who did everything she could to line her own pockets. I’m done.

  I toss my box in the trunk of my Prius and head for home. I need a win today. Something positive. An hour later, I’m home. My small studio apartment familiar and comforting. My mail is on the floor in a pile where the building’s postman slipped it through the mail slat in my door. I pick up the small pile of bills and sigh. I’ve got money saved, but not enough. Then a deep red envelope catches my eye and I frown at the name on the front…addressed to me.
>
  What the Heart Wants Matchmaking

  I know the name. A month ago I got an invitation to the wedding of my cousin Stacy. I’d called her in complete surprise because to my knowledge she had given up dating just like me. And then she told me her secret. A matchmaker. She swore it was the real deal. True love. Her perfect match. That’s what I wanted for my life—someone exactly right for me. The idea of finding a man who is made for me without all the pitfalls of dating was intensely appealing.

  So, after drinking an entire bottle of wine, I reached out to Grace over the phone. God, I don’t even remember what I told her.

  With shaking hands, I open the envelope and read the letter.

  * * *

  Dear Rosie,

  * * *

  I’m pleased to inform you I have successfully matched you. I hope you’ll be as satisfied with your match as I am. He meets all of your qualifications and is eager to have a first date.

  * * *

  Mr. Right Now will be contacting you via our messaging service to make arrangements.

  Included you’ll find his letter to his potential match.

  * * *

  Best of luck. Please contact me if you have any problems.

  * * *

  Yours,

  Grace

  * * *

  Mr. Right Now? I can’t help but smile at the pseudonym. I wonder what he thinks of mine. I slide the second piece of paper from behind the first and stare down at the handwritten letter.

  * * *

  This is a little strange for me. I’ve never used a matchmaker before, but I have one goal and want to trust the experts to help me. I want someone who wants to share a life with me, to travel the world, and to do good. I’m looking for my forever to start right now.

  From what Grace says, you are that person.

  I’d rather tell you my story face to face. Get to know you. See what happens.

  I hope you’ll give this…us a chance.

  * * *

  His handwriting is all sharp lines and edges, the ink is dark where he pressed hard on the paper. It’s so different from my own flowing and swirly script. I run my fingers over the indented lines of text as though I can feel him through the ink. Is this the man I’m going to be with forever? Stacy seems to think Grace knows what she’s doing. With a ninety-nine percent success rate, I can’t deny those statistics.

  “Mr. Right Now. Who are you?” I say aloud, wondering what my match will look like, what he’ll sound like. But Grace’s letter said he’d be calling me. My heart lurches when I realize I turned off my phone earlier. God, it was probably him calling that got me fired. I don’t know how I feel about that. Was it fate? Is he already saving me?

  Pulling the device from my pocket, I turn it on and wait. And there it is, a little notification bubble on my voicemail.

  I press play on the voicemail and wait, heart in my throat. There’s a beep and then a masculine throat clearing.

  “Um, hi. This is weird—not knowing your name. I guess I’ll just call you Petal since the only name Grace gave me was Petals and Prose. I’d hoped to get to talk to you a little before setting this up, but you’re not answering so…” he trails off and I can’t help but giggle. Then he coughs and takes a long breath. “Shit, I’m nervous. So I’ll just say what I’d planned to say and you can decide whether you want to meet me or not. I’ll be at Red Seas Brewing tonight at seven. I hope to see you there. I really want to meet you.”

  There’s a beep, and the line goes dead. My day just got a hell of a lot better.

  2

  Ben

  * * *

  Condensation collects on the side of my glass while I sit at a small table inside Red Sea Brewing. I’ve been here half an hour, but Petal is only five minutes late so far. My nerves got the better of me this evening and I couldn’t help but be early. Now I’m wondering if she’s even going to show.

  This is never going to work.

  “Mr. Right Now?” a soft female voice asks, pulling my attention from my beer.

  I glance up to see the most beautiful pair of aqua blue eyes I’ve ever seen staring at me. With a heart-shaped face, ruby red lips, and those eyes framed by dark lashes, she looks like a fairytale come to life. I can’t stop my gaze from traveling her curves. Full tits, a narrow waist, softly curved hips. She’s everything I want. “Petal?”

  She grins and nods. “It’s Rosie, actually.”

  Rosie. Of course it is. “I’m Ben,” I say, holding out a hand. When we touch, I swear to God, sparks fly. I don’t want to let go of her and I truly understand why love-at-first-sight is something people believe in. This woman, who I know so little about other than the fact that she loves to travel, likes beer, and wants marriage, is my match according to Grace, and I want it to be true more than anything.

  I stand and release her palm, but only so I can pull out a chair for her. She smiles and takes a seat, her cheeks pink and lovely. “Thanks,” she says. “What are you drinking?”

  “It’s a Belgian tripel.”

  She cocks a brow and glances at the list of beers on tap. “Really? That’s a big beer.”

  I shrug. “I’ve traveled a lot, got spoiled on good beer.” Then I notice how she’s eyeing my glass. “Do you want one?”

  She nods and grabs a menu. “Should we get some food? This one is nine and a half percent alcohol. If I don’t eat, it’ll knock me on my ass.”

  “Absolutely,” I say.

  We order some appetizers to share but all I can think about is learning more about this woman. I want to know why someone like her would be a match for someone like me. She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who is eager to rush into a marriage. “Why?” I ask.

  “Why what?” She takes a sip of her beer and sighs.

  “Why would you do this? You’re fucking gorgeous. I’m sure you could have your pick of the men in St. Louis. What makes a woman like you go to a matchmaker?”

  She cocks a brow. “I could ask you the same thing. You’ve got the tall dark and handsome thing going on. I’d think you could find a date easily.”

  “My situation is…different.”

  “How so?”

  I shrug. I was going to go into this with honesty, by telling her exactly what I need. Instead, I find myself wanting her to really want me, rather than be in it for money. “I’m…” I drag a hand through my hair and sigh. “I’m tired of spending my time with people who don’t want the same things I want.”

  “Same,” she admits. “Life is too short to waste it on assholes.”

  I nearly choke on my beer. She looks like a Disney princess, but talks like a sailor. “You’re…surprising.”

  “I’ve heard that before, but usually it’s not a good thing.”

  “It’s fantastic.”

  Her smile is sunshine and warmth. “Mr. Right Now, tell me a bit about that.”

  I shrug, reaching for a piece of deep fried avocado. “I spent the last nine months traveling the world. My parents were wealthy, and they left me a good deal of money when they died.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Sadness fills her eyes and my stomach clenches. I don’t want to make her feel sorry for me.

  I shake my head. “It was a long time ago. My grandmother raised me most of my life. After grad school I couldn’t settle for working at her company. So, I left. Traveled.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “First, I did the staples. Backpacked through Europe, stayed in youth hostels or with friends when possible. Then I ventured to China, Japan, and Korea. But the last few months I’ve been in Honduras working on a clean water project.”

  Her eyes go wide. “So, you inherited money but used it to help people?”

  “My parents spent their lives helping others. I knew as soon as I could, I’d start doing the same. Even when I was a kid, I was always coming up with ways to help.”

  “So you’re hot, generous, educated, why the rush to find your forever? Is there something wrong with you
? Are you going to be deported or something?”

  I laugh. “No. I’m an American citizen. I think…I think I’m just ready. My mom always said, the only way to help the world was to raise more good people than selfish people. I want to do that.”

  She downs her beer in a few long swallows and grins. “You are literally the only good thing during an absolute bastard of a day.”

  “You’re pretty great too.”

  “And you’re really not just in this for a quick fuck? Because I have to tell you, saying you’re looking for a woman to spend your life with is like my kryptonite.”

  The sound of the word fuck on her lips makes my dick stiffen in my pants. I have to shift and adjust my erection so I don’t embarrass myself. God, she’s gorgeous. “I wouldn’t turn you down, I’m not an idiot. But that’s not my end game. I’m in this for someone who wants marriage, not a hook-up.”

  “Maybe you should be called Mr. Perfect?”

  Shaking my head, I take another drink. “I’m far from it.” I take in her rosy cheeks, the soft smile makes her eyes sparkle as she pops some food into her mouth. “So, what do you do, Rosie?”

  Her brows rise and she covers her mouth as she finishes her bite. “Me?”

  “Yeah. It’s your turn.”

  “Well, I was a paralegal, until…recently.” Her expression darkens and I realize I took us down a path that might end up ruining our night.