Scoring a Holiday Match (Mr. Match) by Delancey Stewart (feel good novels .txt) 📕

dance floor, I caught Lulu’s eyes through the crowd, and she grinned and lifted two thumbs up. I smiled back, surprised to find myself in this situation but unwilling to question it.

Ash stepped onto the dance floor and tugged my hand, pulling me into his arms. For a moment, it was awkward, my hands sliding slowly around him, tracing an unfamiliar path along the planes of muscle that made up this handsome man. But then his hand slipped around the small of my back, landing just above the curve of my ass, and the other wrapped across my shoulder, his broad palm spread across the center of my back.

We were so close I could breathe him in, and his scent was like wind across the ocean—fresh and wild, with an undercurrent of spice. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, and as he pulled me nearer, my cheek coming to rest on that broad hard chest, I closed my eyes, letting my mind free to wander.

Ash was huge, and being wrapped up in his arms made me feel small and safe, something I rarely craved. I was in charge most of the time, but I knew that with Ash, I didn’t have to be. At the same time, he didn’t seem like a guy who was threatened by my dominance—in fact, for the first time ever, I wondered if maybe I could be part of a matched pair.

“Is this okay?” he asked, loosening his grip slightly to let me move back enough to look up at his face. His dark eyes were hooded as he looked down at me, a light flush colored his neck and cheeks. Shit. He looked aroused, and the thought of it made my own body flush.

“It’s . . .” And I’d lost the ability to speak again.

He stared down at me, that sexy smile widening, and I was certain he knew exactly what I felt. His eyes dropped to my lips, and every muscle inside me coiled in anticipation. He was going to kiss me.

We weren’t dancing now, just standing on the dance floor, staring at one another as people moved around us and the music shifted to a George Michael holiday song.

I didn’t care what music played. My attention was focused on the mountain of sex standing in front of me, his hands on my body and his eyes on my lips in a predatory gaze. I pressed up onto the balls of my feet, decreasing the distance between us.

And that did it. Ash closed the distance, brushing his lips against mine in a slow exploration, asking a question I only had one answer to.

Yes.

He paused, and then he angled his mouth against mine, lightly at first and then more firmly, his arms tightening around me and that big hand on my low back dropping to brush my ass. I opened my mouth to him, and then I was lost in sensation. Tongues, breath, mouths and hands moved in a synchronized way that was half dance, half battle. This, I thought faintly, was what it was like to have a man who was your equal.

After a kiss that literally changed the way I thought about the world, Ash released me, and I stepped back, my chest heaving as I regained my breath.

The sexy smile was back, but I could see that the kiss had affected him too. He took my hand and pulled me away from the dance floor, back toward our table.

It was strange. I felt the world opening up before me, like a curtain had been lifted and revealed a realm of possibilities I never knew existed—had never even looked for. But now, suddenly, hope filled my heart that maybe one of them could be real. I knew it was because I was suddenly considering what life might be like with a man at my side, not just any man, but my match. He might have been sixth, but Lulu was right.

It was possible that I’d met my match in Ash.

We danced off and on for another hour, talking and laughing like we’d known each other longer than just an evening. Eventually, the lights in the room dimmed a bit, and we moved back to our table, laughing.

As he pulled out the chair for me, my eyes scanned the room, and landed on a rumpled pile of boy-man half-leaning, half-lying on the wall behind him near the windows. Next to him was a very pretty young blond girl, wringing her hands and looking around with panic in her eyes. PJ and Becky.

Crap.

I glanced at Ash, and then back at PJ. The guy was a grown man. I could just leave the situation to resolve itself. God, I wanted this perfect night to go on. I wanted to see where it might end up. But PJ was my partner’s nephew. And so he was my responsibility.

And my responsibility was now vomiting into a potted evergreen tree in the corner as his date turned away, looking appalled.

“Hey, I think I have to go,” I said, standing and picking up my bag.

“You . . .?” Ash stood too, his smile faltering.

“I want to stay. I really, really do.” I squeezed his hand, trying to telegraph how completely I meant the words. “But I have a mess to attend to.” I nodded toward the mess that was PJ in the corner. “My assistant. My partner’s nephew. PJ. You met him earlier, only he was more upright then.”

Understanding cleared the concern from Ash’s face. “Ah. Right.” Ash followed me across the space to where PJ had decided to lie down beneath the tree. Becky was a loyal first date, still standing by.

“You’ve got your hands full,” I suggested, approaching her.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said, sounding a little panicky. “One minute he seemed totally sober, and then suddenly, it was like he melted!”

“It’s okay,” I told her as Ash began lifting PJ into a standing position. “I work with him. I can make sure he gets home.”

She looked unhappy, her