Ms. Match

“Don’t do this to me, Sam.”

“You know I wouldn’t if I had a choice.”

“The party is tonight.”

Sam, his go-to man in charge of literary PR, seemed miserable. He always looked kind of miserable, hence his nickname of Eeyore, but even Paul could see this was serious.

“I’ve got to go to Michigan,” Sam said. “My mother broke her hip. She’s having surgery in the morning.”

“Shit.”

Sam nodded. “There’s no one else. She’s eighty-five.”

“I understand. Go take care of her. Take the time you need.”

“I’m really sorry, Paul.”

“No problem. What time was Gwen expecting you?”

“Seven.” He put a piece of paper on Paul’s desk. “That’s her address.”

“Got it,” he said, his mind already racing through his list of friends and even acquaintances who could step in. “Let me know how your mother’s doing, huh? And leave your cell on.”

Sam smiled grimly as he turned to leave.

The minute he was alone, Paul cursed, vehemently. He had no idea who he could get for this gig on such short notice. Woody? No, Woody was in New York. Maybe Jeff…Shit. Jeff wasn’t about to give up a Friday night to go out with an unattractive stranger. Who was he kidding? None of his friends would. Paul’s only hope had been finding someone who either worked for him or who owed him. That second group should have given him a number of options. Except that it was a Friday night and there was just no time.

Cursing again, Paul dialed Cary’s number. He got the voice mail, and left the message that he wouldn’t make it to poker. Then he checked out Gwen Christopher’s address. She lived in Pasadena. He’d have to get it in gear if he wanted to be on time. Thank God he always had at least one tux at the ready.

Autumn was going to owe him big-time.

HOLY SHIT. He was stunning.

Tall, unruly dark hair, stunning dark eyes, features that one would expect to see on the cover of GQ. He was one of the best-looking men Gwen Christopher had ever seen in person. Poor guy. He still hadn’t gotten into Autumn’s pants. It was the only reason Gwen could think of that a man who looked like him would agree to be her escort. “It’s not going to work.”

“Pardon me?”

She held the door open for him to come in. “Cinderella’s not going to sleep with you because you’re taking the ugly stepsister to the ball. She’ll still make you wait.”

The dazzling man blinked in charming confusion. “I’m not—”

She sighed as she closed the door. “I appreciate that you got all dressed up, so I’ll make it easy for you. I’ll tell Autumn you were perfect, a fabulous date. And I’ll even give you a tip. She won’t want you until you don’t want her. Then her legs will part like the Red Sea. The night’s young, and if you hurry, you can still make it to a premiere or whatever beautiful people normally do on a Friday night.”

“Hey, lady, I’m just here to see if you want a copy of the Watchtower.”

Gwen laughed out loud, amazed that someone Autumn knew actually had a sense of humor. “Very good. It’s Sam, isn’t it?”

“No, actually it’s Paul. Paul Bennet. I’m Sam’s pinch hitter. He had to leave town. His mother broke her hip.”

“Ah, well, then this really is your lucky night. Seriously, you don’t need to stay.”

“I didn’t need to come. But I’d still like to take you to the party.”

“Trust me. You don’t.”

Paul leaned back slightly and cocked his right brow, which made him even better looking. “Okay, so you really are Autumn’s sister.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stubborn.” He took a step toward her. “I haven’t got a single thing to do tonight. I’m dressed for the part. And I wouldn’t mind checking out the rest of the family.”

Wouldn’t her whole clan just die when she walked in with Paul Bennet on her arm? It wouldn’t last—a heartbeat after the shock wore off they’d all figure out that he was a mercy date. Still, it would be fun to see Faith with her perfect little mouth agape. “I’ve given you the secret to getting Autumn into bed. Don’t you believe me?”

“I prefer to reach my own conclusions. What do you say then?”

“I say you’re nuts.”

“That’s probably true. On the other hand, I was promised an open bar and a great buffet.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. Honestly, there’s not enough booze in the world to make this a delightful evening.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

She looked at him, taken aback once more at how damn gorgeous he was. It was ridiculous, really. No one person should be allowed all that beauty. But then, beauty wasn’t fair at all, was it? There was no doubt in her mind that she should put a stop to this madness right now. The whole situation was ludicrous. Could she actually be considering going to the party with this Adonis?

“Good, it’s settled. Get your bag, Gwen. Let’s go have some fun.”

Even as she shook her head, she walked over to the dining-room table to pick up her purse. And when he held out his arm for her, she took it. It didn’t surprise her that he had a shiny black Mercedes. But it did surprise her that she felt a little shiver in her tummy as he helped her inside.

PAUL SETTLED THE CAR onto the freeway and stole a glance at his companion. Autumn had exaggerated her sister’s unattractiveness. She wasn’t in Autumn’s league, no, but she wasn’t hideous, not by a long shot. Gwen was what he would consider plain. Nondescript eyes, a nose that could benefit from a good cosmetic surgeon, a too-broad jaw. Her body was nice, although bigger than most of his women friends. She carried herself confidently and put herself together well. But frankly, if he’d seen her at a party he’d have walked by without a second glance. It wasn’t noble. Then again, he’d never claimed to be a paragon of virtue. He liked beautiful things. Cars, clothes, women. It wasn’t a crime.

“So how do you know her?” Gwen asked.

“I met Autumn at a party for one of my author clients.”

“Autumn knows an author? Autumn knows how to read?”

“I don’t believe she knew him,” he said, choosing to ignore the dig. “She was there as someone’s guest.”

“You can understand my confusion. She’s not exactly a charter member of the book of the month club.”

He smiled, thinking Gwen was right. “She has other charms.”

“Yes, I suppose she does.”

“You two aren’t close?”

“No. Her circles and mine seldom intersect.”