Page 30 of One Sweet Match Up

Even after she’d wigged out on him at the Majestic Theater, there had been something about the way he tried to calm her down that she’d appreciated.

And here he was pretending to be her groom. Had he traded places with Will on purpose? Was he feeling something for her, too?

Maybe . . . maybe not. All she knew . . . Donovan’s taking her hand to help her onto the stage made his firing her all those months ago feel like that event never happened.

She turned to face him, preferring this to being fired. “You don’t look so bad yourself . . . I mean . . . um . . .” Feeling a blush coming on, she looked out to the audience and caught the eyes of all the seniors. Man, there were a lot of them. “um . . . I’m not sure what to do now.”

“I got this.” Donovan turned to face the crowd. “Ladies and gentleman. Be prepared to have the best grilled cheese and tomato soup you’ve ever tasted.”

He let go of Zoe’s hand and took two cups of soup from a server, handing one to Zoe.

“Thank you,” Zoe said cautiously.

“Taste it.”

Were they going to skip vows? That would be totally fine by her. Will hadn’t given her a script, and she’d never been good at winging it. She put the spoon to her lips, the soup instantly melting on her tongue. “Wow.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s delicious.” That was an understatement.

“We could be a sweet matchup, Zoe Mathews.” Donovan grabbed her free hand. “I want you to be my partner.”

WHAT!!!Zoe gulped, her knees wobbled underneath her dress. Oh, God. For pretend words, his sexy smile was rocking her insides. “Um . . .”

“Take a look around. Everyone loves my decadent soup and gourmet grilled cheese.”

She arched an eyebrow. This was an interesting way for him to start his vows, but, okay, he was a chef. “Yes . . .”

“I could make it every day.”

A vision of Donovan bringing her a hot bowl of soup as she sat near a crackling fireplace popped into her head. He’d uncork a bottle of red wine, kneel down beside her, and stroke her cheek with her finger, telling her how beautiful she was before he brought his mouth to hers . . . Zoe’s gaze rested on his full lips. “Go on.” She couldn’t help but coax him.

“If I had access to the kitchen in your yogurt shop, I could make you money.”

She snapped back to attention.

Fantasy over.

“I don’t understand,” she started, a knot forming in her stomach. She suspected his vows were not going to be traditional, and perhaps, self-serving.

“Think about it. I need a place to cook and for customers to see that I’m back for good. It doesn’t matter what kitchen I use. I need to start cultivating regulars who will follow me wherever I end up. I could make soups and sandwiches. Bring in those customers you need. We could work out a deal on the profits. It’s a win, win.”

Zoe stood stunned. Donovan Foster . . . the man who’d fired her all those months ago . . . wanted to go intobusinesswith her? “You want to use my kitchen?”

“I do.” He squeezed her hand.

Right words, but Zoe realized Donovan had had a different agenda altogether when he donned the tux. One that would benefit him.

Of course. How could she be so stupid? Donovan wasn’t interested in her. It was all about him and his culinary comeback.

“Zoe.” He folded his hand over hers. “I do,” he repeated.

She shook her head, pulling her hand out of his. Boiling blood replaced nervous tingles. How could he ambush her like that in front of all these people?

“I don’t.” She hiked up her train. What she needed to do was get away from Donovan because whatever she thought he might be feeling wasn’t the case. Rushing off the stage, she zigzagged through the tables and out the foyer into the cold air. Once outside, she gave her bouquet to an old woman coming into the center and headed for her shop.

Mortified and embarrassed, she took off down the sidewalk, the bitter cold seeping through the wedding dress. Donovan recognizing her was no longer her greatest risk. Not when her heart seemed to want his attention.

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