Page 7 of One Sweet Match Up

A gust of wind caused her to lose her footing again. Donovan’s hands caught her, his strong arms wrapping around her middle. Zoe glanced up to see him smiling down at her.

“The way I see it . . . It’s either the bakery or we get buried alive by a snow drift and they don’t find us for a week. I don’t know about you, but waiting out the storm in the bakery sounds like our best option.”

He had a point, and itwasflippin’ cold out here. She’d hate herself in the morning but said the words anyway. “Lead the way.”

2

Donovan jammedthe bakery key into the lock and pushed the glass door open. “Here, come in,” he said, searching for the lights. “I’ll go turn on the heat and find a wine bottle opener. Make yourself at home.”

He watched as Zoe stepped in and removed her mittens, her blond hair wet from the snow. “I’ll be right back.” His eyes locked with her beautiful blue ones, and for a moment he lost his concentration. “Um . . .” He scratched his stubbled chin. “Once I find that heat . . . uh . . . turn on the heat . . . Don’t go anywhere.” Walking across the bakery, he pushed open the swinging double doors to the kitchen more than a bit annoyed at his rambling back there.

Flipping on the lights, he moved across the kitchen. Why was he stammering? It wasn’t the first time he’d rode out a snowstorm with a beautiful lady; albeit, never in a bakery and never with a woman who may or may not be his soul mate according to magic laws.

He reached the heat control unit, cranked it up, and then peeled off his coat, hanging it on a nearby hook.First order of business: let’s get Zoe some wine.She seemed a little tense. “Now where, Emma Stevens, would you keep an opener?” He searched the drawers to no avail.

His gaze finally rested on a knife block on the counter. “That’ll work,” he said, pulling out a paring knife.

Heading back into the main room, he maneuvered behind the bar. “I didn’t see any wine glasses, so we’ll need to improvise.” Glancing behind him, he spotted a row of pink mugs assembled next to the coffee pot and grabbed one. “I hope you don’t mind drinking out of this.” He waved the mug in the air.

“I’m not fussy.” Zoe pulled off her coat, draped it over the back of the booth, and came over to the bar, sliding onto a stool. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Donovan set the mug down in front of her. There was something familiar about the pretty frozen yogurt shop owner. “Say, have we met before?”

“Before tonight?” she asked, eyebrows knitted.

“Yeah. Around town?”

“No,” she scoffed, adding, “definitely not in this town.”

Okay, then. Someone was still cranky. Maybe she didn’t want to talk about what she did outside her work. Not a problem. He wouldn’t pry. Still, she looked more than a little familiar. He rarely forgot a pretty face. He pushed the knife through the cork.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice curt.

“Opening the wine bottle.” Donovan grinned inwardly.He was going to make this woman thaw out and relax if it was the last thing he did. “It’s a handy little trick. I once saw one of my line cooks do it. My recipes often call for white wine.” He gave a sarcastic snort. “It was about the only skill she had. I fired her ass that same night.”

From the horror across Zoe’s face, he probably shouldn’t have been so blunt about letting an employee go. She was probably the type of employer to give her staff second and third chances. “I mean, she was new, but I had to let her go. She did something that could have cost me my business.” He paused, adding a lame, “It wasn’t like she’d been working for me for years. She’d only been on the job a couple of days. I didn’t even know her name.”

“Can I have my wine now?” was Zoe’s only response.

“Sure.” He handed her the mug. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you it in a proper glass,” he said, changing the subject.

“It’s fine.” She brought it to her lips and tilted it back—way back. Seconds later, she set her empty mug on the counter.

Donovan raised a curious eyebrow. Someone was thirsty. He picked up the bottle and refilled her mug.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He studied her as she turned toward the window, her pretty blond hair now swept to the side. Yeah, they’d definitely met. He was sure of it. He couldn’t put his finger on where.

Then again. He was pretty sure if he’d met her they’d have had sex by now.

He filled his own mug halfway, taking a sip and nodding toward the window. “Man, it’s really coming down out there. How about that dinner I promised? Would you like to try some of my special linguini with Bolognese sauce?”

She whipped around, eyes blazing.

Reacting, he stepped back. Man, it was only a question. What was wrong with her? Maybe she wasn’t playing with a full deck. If Zoe was a little off, he’d like to think Abby would have warned him. Perhaps she didn’t eat meat and that’s what the reaction was simply about. “Are you a vegetarian? I could whip up something else.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I love pasta dishes with Bolognese sauce.”

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