“The three of us met in college at NYU freshman year, got assigned a group project in English together, and became close friends. We decided to room together during college and graduated together.”

He shook his head. “The three hot amigas tearing it up at NYU. The poor guys must not have known what hit them.”

Her eyes flashed with a memory and a bite of pain. “It was different than you think.”

“How so?”

Discomfort oozed from her pores. She shifted her weight. “We didn’t really fit in with the regular crowd. That’s probably a big reason we bonded so quickly.”

“Specifics?”

“You’re not getting any.”

His shark instincts flamed to life. Slade tabled the topic for a later discussion when she was off guard. “What was your degree in?”

“Business management. I always dreamed of being an entrepreneur but wasn’t sure what I wanted to focus on. Arilyn graduated with a degree in counseling, and Ken in media and communications. We pursued careers for a while but found everywhere lacking. One night we got drunk on cosmopolitans and came up with this whole idea of a matchmaking agency.”

“Women still drink those, huh?”

“We do.” Her eyes sparkled with the memory. “We were hung over the next morning but still agreed it was the best idea we ever had. We pooled our resources, our talent, and moved forward.”

He loved the gutsiness. Most grown men he knew sat around whining because they hated their jobs but were too afraid to take any risks. “Why Verily? I’d think you can make a hell of a lot more money in Manhattan.”

“We didn’t want to go head-to-head with some of the big names in the city. Spindel, Kelleher, and many others would blow us out of the water. Verily has the perfect mix of young, career-oriented twenty- or thirtysomething professionals. It gives us the majority of the market, introduces us to a new client base, but is still close enough to Manhattan so we can host events there and still recruit. Our focus is the twenty-five to thirty-five bracket, and we don’t accept clients outside those barriers. Gives us a special niche.”

He nodded. “Nice move. Here’s to brilliant drunken ideas.” He clicked his glass to hers, and her lips curved in a genuine smile. What was it about the angles of her face, the fall of her hair over her brow, the stubborn tilt to her chin? Separately they were nothing extraordinary. Together, they held him almost . . . spellbound.

Yeah, let’s get married and have babies ’cause you like the way she looks. That’ll work.

He ignored the Ted-type voice in his head. Somehow, he didn’t get the image of a funny teddy bear. More like a gleeful devil boy with black teeth. He shuddered at his mental insanity and refocused on the conversation. “How successful have you been?”

“Ten marriages in three years. A good percentage of engagements. Not bad stats, and hopefully we’ll have more good news this year.”

“Divorces yet?”

She bared her teeth. “No. But if I get the call, I’ll send them over. Try to leave the cynicism at home on your date with Hannah, please.”

“Of course. I’m very good on first dates.”

“Yes, I’m sure my challenge will be getting her not to dump you by the third. Statistically, that’s when elements of a true personality begin to leak out.”

“Ouch. Don’t you need to believe in your clients?”

A shimmering lock of angel gold slid over her cheek. She pushed it back. “No. I just need to match you.”

His gaze locked with hers. Raw heat slithered in his veins and scratched at his skin. God, he longed to back her up against the wall and kiss that haughty expression off her face. Make her moan while he slid his fingers between her thighs and torture her for mouthing off. If she shocked him again, would it be like pushing into fire? His pants tented and Slade controlled his breathing to stave off an embarrassing scene. He needed to remember why he was putting himself through this whole charade. Why hooking up with his matchmaker would be a disaster, chemistry aside.

His sister.

Prove them fraudulent and protect Jane. Though lately, the idea they were true con artists was drifting away. Lately, he’d begun to think they actually believed in this ridiculous happily-ever-after nonsense. And if they weren’t straight criminals and just misguided, he had a bigger problem on his hands.

Because belief and hope in a concept that really didn’t exist was neither a crime nor punishable by law.

Slade deftly changed the subject. “Are Ken and Arilyn married?”

“No.”

He pondered the answer and jabbed off the cuff to try and wring out some truth. “So, if you’re a witch and cast spells, how come you didn’t find love for your two best friends?”

The air between them heightened. Kate gripped the wineglass so tightly he worried it would shatter within her grip. “They’re not ready. I was only being facetious, counselor. Making sure you won’t be able to sue me for any misguided claims such as love spells that fail.”

“That’s what you wanted me to think, but I still don’t believe you.”

She gave a delicate shrug. “That is your right.”

He decided to push. “Do you light up most men you touch?”

Kate stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. That was no regular kiss. It was something else, and you don’t want to admit it.”

Bingo. The distance shrank and temper lifted her chin. “Don’t kiss me anymore and you won’t have any problems.”

“That is a problem.”

“Why?”

He dropped his voice. “Because I like kissing you.”

She jerked. “Trust me; I’m the complete opposite of what you need.”

“How do you know what I need?”

His flirty tone seemed to piss her off. Sparks shot from ocean-blue eyes and reminded him of a tsunami of temper. “Because I interviewed you, remember? The only reason you’re suddenly interested in me is some perverse masculine challenge to win me over because I don’t like you.”

Damn, this was more fun than his last court battle. “Why wouldn’t you like me? I’m charming, successful, intelligent, and a great lover. Wanna test me out?”

Her gaze narrowed. “I know your game, Montgomery. You signed up for this thing as a joke and to keep an eye on your sister. You think you’ll waltz through these dates, and I’ll keep you amused while you poke at me and have your fun. But I’ve got news for you. I play by my own rules, and by the end of this contract, I’ll rip down those neat little walls you built and show you what it’s like to be in love. Real love. Not the kind of crap you play at. I’m gonna do it for two reasons. One, I’m damn good at my job.”

“What’s the second?”

She smiled, slow and deliberate, imitating the symbol of Eve and everything a man would give up just for a taste of a poison apple. “Because payback is a bitch.”

His heart thundered at her warning, almost as if she had cast a spell on him like a hard-core gypsy. She put her glass on the bar and spun on her heel. “Where are you going?”

“Home. My party mood has disappeared and someone is waiting for me. Someone who reminds me that love and emotion are real, and not some mocking game played by arrogant lawyers.”

A strange panic stirred in his gut. “You didn’t tell me you were in a serious relationship! Who’s waiting home for you?”

She threw him a pitying glance. “His name is Robert, and you’re not worthy to say his name. Good night.”

Kate stalked off and left him wondering if he’d pushed both of them too far.

Who the hell was Robert?

And why did he care?


“BABY, YOU’RE HERE!”

Kate stepped over the threshold and got smothered by her mother’s enthusiastic greeting. Strong, tanned arms wrapped around her neck and squeezed like a pumped-up boa constrictor. The familiar scents of incense and pot drifted in the air of the cozy lake house in upstate New York, luring pedestrians through the doors with a promise of pleasure.

Kate hugged her back and fought off the rest of the embrace in order to breathe. “Mom, what if you get busted by the police? For God’s sake, at least close the door and windows when you smoke.” Madeline Seymour laughed and shook her head in easy amusement. White-blonde hair similar to Kate’s shimmered in the rays of sunlight.

“No one wants to arrest an old lady, darling. Want some? You’re way too tense, I can tell from the set of your shoulders.” Her mother’s tall, elegant body was clad in hot pink yoga pants, halter top, and her usual bamboo beads to promote health. Her bare feet padded over the worn wooden floors toward the back of her makeshift workout/meditation/drug studio. Kate had been raised in the hippie era where free love, peace, health, and spiritual kindness are the tokens of a good life. Madeline ate only vegetarian foods, wore organic clothing, grew an herbal garden to rival Vitamin World, and held retreats at her lake bungalow for women searching for their inner Goddess. When Kate was a teenager, she’d caught sight of her mother on a harvest moon night, naked and singing with a bunch of other females around a fire. That had ended in an epic battle with tears, rage, and a vow to never talk to her mother for embarrassing her like that again.

Kate respected the philosophies her parents raised her with but hadn’t dealt easily with combining the real world she craved with her mother’s cringe-worthy ideals. Arilyn, of course, adored her and said Madeline was the last great hippie left in New York.

Kate shrugged out of her coat and eased onto a purple-seated cushioned chair. The Buddha statue dominated the room, with wildly painted murals on the wall to inspire relaxation and flow. “No, thanks. Sobriety is a goal of mine.”