Page 3 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

“Good, good,” the mysterious man beside me says with a sigh. “Back on track.”

Brianne tucks her hair behind her ear and I get a glimpse of a small earpiece tucked in her ear.

An earpiece?

“Don’t put your hair behind your ear!” he hisses and just as quickly, she flinches, fixing her hair so it covers her ear once more.

What in the Cyrano de Bergerac is going on here?

I keep my head down, listening and stealing glances here and there for another thirty minutes, pretending to be typing on my laptop the whole time.

This is definitely some sort of date that’s been arranged by the matchmaker guy sitting beside me. Only, I’mcertainthis Elliott guy has no idea he’s been set up so blatantly.

I have questions.

So, so, so many questions.

Eventually, their date ends with a cute hug and the two part, Elliott leaving first.

She glances at the man beside me brieflyand I notice a barely imperceptive shake of his head. Swallowing, she turns and runs out the door, not looking back.

Who is this man? Is he the Jason Bourne of matchmaking?

Something tells me this is the sort of salacious reporting Soleil might be looking for. It’s got a little of everything. Deceit. Sex. Intrigue. Lies.

The man smoothly stands and that’s when I see how muscular he is.

And how impeccably dressed he is. His biceps strain against the crisp button-down shirt he wears, and his gray slacks are perfectly fitted to thick columned thighs and an ass so tight that I find myself literally mesmerized by it as he walks away from me.

I snap out of my gaze as he glides out the door fluidly and no one else in the café seems to notice him at all.

Crap! If I let him get away, I may never find him again! I toss my laptop into my bag and throw some cash onto the table, more than enough to cover my bill, and run out the door after him.

I spot him halfway down the block already, moving in sure, long strides of his muscular legs. I keep a good distance away, following him.

I just need a storefront. An apartment number. A license plate. Anything to research and track him down later and find a name for whatever this matchmaking business he seems to be running.

He turns a corner and I lose sight of him.

No!

I pick up my pace, running after him and turn the same corner…only it isn’t down a street.

It’s an alley.

An alley that leads to a dead end.

Where the hell did he go?

Suddenly, a shadow appears out of nowhere and I feel the cool metal tip of a gun press against my back.

With a gasp and probably foolishly, I whip around and find myself face-to-face with the man from the café.

His deep voice snarls, “Why are you following me?”

Chapter 2

Thatcher

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