Page 75 of Miss Matched

“This is unexpected,” I say, walking over to her.

She bites her lip, and for a moment her confidence slips. “Hopefully it’s not a bad surprise?”

“Never.”

I slide one hand around her waist and tip her chin up with the other, looking into those wolf-gray eyes.

“Brought you breakfast.” She smiles.

I lean down and plant a kiss on her lips. She tastes like spearmint, and it takes all I have to pull away.

“Delicious.” I grin.

Her wild laugh cuts through my office and fills me with heat. “Not me. The bagels.” Her eyes dart to a bag on my desk.

Kennedy pulls out of my arms, and damn if I don’t suddenly feel empty. Propping herself against my desk, her eyes follow me as I sink into my chair. I have to fight to keep from thinking that she’s looking down at me like she did when she was naked and riding me last night.

She winds her hands through her hair and pulls it all to one side, revealing the soft skin of her long neck.

Focus, Zac. Focus.

“What brings you to my side of town?” I ask her.

“I didn’t realize we’d broken up the city, but I suppose if you want this half, I’ll allow it,” she smirks.

“You can have it all, baby,” I say. Her cheeks turn the sexiest shade of pink.

Kennedy tips her chin to the door. “You can keep Samson.”

“Sorry about that,” I say.

“He’s interesting.”

“Not the word I’d use.”

Kennedy laughs, and it fills my chest. “Not who I’d picture you working with, that’s for sure.”

“He used to be different,” I say. “But I guess so did I.”

She holds my jaw in her hand, her focused eyes on me. “I like you as you are.”

It catches me off guard. There was a time when I was a good man, doing good things. Deserving of the touch of a woman with a heart as pure as hers. Somewhere along the line, I morphed into an unrecognizable face in the mirror, someone who stopped connecting, professionally and personally. The ruthless businessman, the shark, the playboy.

But with Kennedy’s eyes on me, I consider that maybe she can still see him, buried deep—the man who built a house with his father. The man who wanted to use his money to change the world for the better. The man people started viewing through a money-green filter.

Including myself.

I lean back, and she drops her hand.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” I change the subject.

She smooths her hands over her skirt. “I was scouting a possible location for the Singles Ball next month. It’s the biggest event Hearts Inc. has put on, so it needs to be perfect.”

“Where are you considering?”

“The Madison.”

I shake my head. “Too expected,” I tell her, reaching for a pen and scribbling a name and phone number onto the back of a business card.

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