Mix 'N Match (No Match for Love) Read online

  Contents

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  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Get a Free Story!

  Enjoy the Rest of the Series!

  Other Books by Lindzee Armstrong

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Dedicated to my sons, Jaxson and Hayden,

  who guarantee that every day is an adventure.

  I love you!

  Sometimes, being a supportive friend really sucked.

  Zoey took a sip of her champagne, watching the crowd of philanthropic do-gooders. Twinkle lights were strung over the outdoor patio, giving the space a festive feel that was almost out of place at a charity event. She rolled her neck back and forth, trying to shake off the annoyance with her best friend, Brooke, that had plagued her all night.

  She couldn’t hold Brooke accountable for something Zoey had never told her about. Brooke had no idea that Zoey was running a makeup artistry business on the side, or that a big name was giving a lecture at a downtown hotel right now.

  She really should tell Brooke she wanted to quit Toujour, the matchmaking firm they both worked for, especially since Brooke was now her boss. But she hadn’t been able to disappoint her friend. Not with the paps—paparazzi—doing their best to ruin Brooke and Luke’s upcoming wedding. Zoey never would’ve guessed being engaged to a rich-and-famous business tycoon would come with so much baggage. But as maid of honor, Zoey was doing her best to help Brooke through it. Even if it meant missing the lecture to attend another charity event.

  It was fine. Totally, completely fine. There would be other lectures, and this party wasn’t half bad. The charity—Footsteps for Change, a dance center for youth in crisis—played upbeat Top 40s tunes instead of the dry instrumental music common at these events. The suffocating California summer sun had set, taking with it most of the heat and leaving the night air a pleasant temperature. As far as charity events went, this one was an A plus. She might as well enjoy it.

  “Get out!” someone shouted.

  Zoey whipped her head around, trying to locate the voice in the sea of people. She saw Luke almost immediately, Brooke hanging on his tuxedo jacket and looking scared. A small crowd had already started to gather around them.

  Crap. Zoey speed-walked to the commotion, not letting her six-inch Christian Louboutin heels slow her down.

  “I have a press pass,” an unfamiliar man said, shoving his badge in Luke’s face. He was tall and beefy, and muscles bulged the arms of his poorly tailored suit.

  “Who are you with?” Luke yanked the badge out of the man’s hand, then tossed it aside in disgust. “A tabloid? Who let you in?”

  “France seems like an obvious choice for a destination wedding,” Press Pass said. “Toujour is headquartered there, and it’s rumored you own an apartment in the city.”

  “Leave now, or security will escort you out,” Luke said.

  Zoey would drag the man out herself if she had to. Anger boiled within, and she struggled to push her way through the crowd.

  “It looks like you’ve put on a little weight, Brooke,” Press Pass said. “Are you waiting until after the baby to announce a date?”

  Brooke’s hands flew to her flat stomach, and Zoey gasped. Her heels were glued to the cobblestone, and she couldn’t make herself move.

  Luke grabbed Press Pass by the lapels, but the bulky man didn’t even blink.

  “My sources say your ex-fiancé was in town a few months ago on business. Are you sure the baby isn’t his?” Press Pass asked.

  Luke pulled back his fist, and Brooke shrieked, grabbing Luke’s arm. Zoey pushed aside a woman in a sequined dress, fighting her way to her best friend.

  “Hit me,” Press Pass said. “I’d love to file charges against you.”

  Zoey let out a growl, nudging another person aside. Luke would hit Press Pass if he didn’t shut up.

  A man broke through the crowd, his back ramrod straight and his suit perfectly pressed without so much as a wrinkle. The whites of his eyes stood out in the chocolate of his skin, curly black hair cropped close to his head.

  Mitch. Luke’s personal assistant-slash-best man. Zoey’s kryptonite.

  Relief flooded Zoey—Mitch always knew how to handle the press—followed immediately by annoyance at his lack of faith in everyone but himself. A radio was already in his hand, efficient as always.

  Zoey had admired that efficiency when he’d kissed her breathless in a quiet corner of a restaurant all those months ago. She’d love the way he’d commanded that moment.

  She forced her lips into a scowl and pushed the memory away. She’d been an idiot to let that happen.

  “Security’s on their way,” Mitch said, placing a steady hand on Luke’s arm. “Don’t do it, man.”

  Luke shoved Press Pass away, and he laughed. Brooke wrapped her arms around Luke, her eyes luminescent with tears.

  Three weeks until the wedding. There was no way they’d be able to keep the exact date and location a secret for another twenty-one days.

  Two burly men in suits pushed through the crowd, their ferocious glares screaming security. They dwarfed Mitch, with his lanky frame and perpetually youthful face. Not that his arms had felt lanky when holding her tight. They’d felt strong and capable and oh-so-good.

  “Your people are the ones who let me in here,” Press Pass protested as the security guards each grasped an arm.

  “And now we’re withdrawing our permission,” Mitch said in that obnoxiously calm voice.

  Press Pass let out a growl, his face bright red and shiny from perspiration. He yanked his arms free and stomped away, the security guards following close on his heels.

  “Are you okay?” Zoey asked Brooke, pulling her in for a tight hug.

  Brooke nodded, leaning into Luke. “He kept following me.”

  “I’m taking Brooke inside.” Luke wrapped a protective arm around her. “Put him on the black list immediately.”

  Mitch nodded, pulling out his phone. “I’m on it.”

  Anger coursed through Zoey as she watched Luke lead Brooke away. She folded her arms and glared at Mitch. “Way to go, Best Man. How’d he get on the guest list?”

  “Luke’s secretary went over it, not me. I won’t make that mistake again.” Mitch neatly placed his phone back in his pocket.

  “I thought making sure the paps stayed clear was part of your job.”

  “After tonight, I’m adding it to the description.”

  “Well, isn’t that fantastic.” Zoey tossed back the rest of her champagne and set the glass on the tray of a passing waiter. Her purse slipped, falling down her arm and clattering to the cobblestone, right in front of Mitch.

  Mitch bent to grab it, but someone else was already crouched near the floor, scooping up the small beaded bag.

  “B
eautiful women shouldn’t have to pick things up from the floor,” he said with a handsome smile, handing her the purse. He was perhaps ten years her senior, his dark hair dusted with gray, but in a way that looked intentional and not a result of age. It suited him.

  “Thank you,” Zoey said, taking the purse back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mitch fold his arms and glare at the man.

  Zoey already wanted to get to know him better.

  “Hi,” he said, holding out a hand. “I’m Alan.”

  “Zoey,” she said, accepting his handshake. It was strong and firm, almost painfully so.

  “That was crazy a minute ago, huh? I imagine the press is eager for even a moment with the happy couple these days.”

  “Even if they have to lie their way into a party to get it,” Zoey agreed. She felt the burn from Mitch’s gaze, but stubbornly refused to look in his direction.

  Alan’s eyes flicked over her figure, then gave a slow smile. “I’d lie my way into a party if it meant meeting you.”

  Zoey laughed, putting a flirtatious hand on Alan’s jacket. The fabric was thin and a little coarse, which meant he probably wasn’t as wealthy as her usual type. But he was bold, and she liked that in a man.

  She hoped Mitch was watching.

  “You flatter me,” Zoey said.

  “Not at all. I mean, look at you. Absolutely gorgeous.”

  Zoey laughed again, peering up at him from underneath her lashes. “You’re not so bad looking yourself.”

  “You work at that matchmaking firm with Brooke, don’t you? I recognize you from the papers.”

  “You keep that close an eye on them?”

  “No, but yours is a face I’d be hard-pressed to forget. Rumor has it you’re the maid of honor.”

  “I don’t know how honorable I am.”

  Alan threw back his head and laughed. “Witty. I like that in a woman. How about I buy you dinner? Maybe this weekend?”

  Mitch’s hand landed on Zoey’s arm, his dark skin standing out against her lighter coloring. She felt a surge of satisfaction followed almost immediately by annoyance.

  “Zoey, do you have a minute? I wanted to discuss a few things with you.” Mitch towed her away from Alan before she had a chance to protest.

  “I’ll catch up with you later,” Alan called.

  Zoey gave a little wave, then glared at Mitch.

  “What are you doing?” Zoey hissed.

  “That guy is clearly a reporter.”

  “Oh, puh-lease.” She yanked her arm from his hand. Was Mitch that jealous, or just that distrusting? “Could you be any more paranoid? You saw what just happened to Press Guy. There is no way a pap would stick around after seeing that.”

  “Sticking around is exactly what he would do. Your guard’s down, and he can sense it.”

  “You are clinically insane.”

  “Don’t you find it suspicious that he immediately brought up the wedding?”

  “Did you not just see Press Pass led away by two angry-looking security guards? Of course he brought it up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was just about to agree to a date.”

  “Wait. I wanted to finalize the plans for Brooke’s bridal shower. It’s Friday. That’s only three days away.”

  The condescension in Mitch’s voice had her eyes rolling. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

  Mitch looked around, as though making sure no one would overhear, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “The Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique will be ready for you at seven o’clock, and your dinner reservation is at Club 33 for eight-thirty. The limo will start pickups at five, beginning at yours and Brooke’s apartment.”

  She heard the thinly veiled disapproval in Mitch’s voice, and wondered what he disliked more—the childishness of a bridal shower at Disneyland, the amount of money being spent, or the fact that Luke was funding everything, even though it was technically Zoey’s duty as maid of honor.

  “Sounds great,” Zoey said. When Luke offered to foot the bill, she’d agreed without blinking. Brooke deserved the royal treatment. The bridal shower Zoey had planned was fun and relaxed—absolutely perfect for Brooke—and the price tag was pocket change for Luke, but six months’ wages for Zoey.

  “I wanted to re-confirm the guest list. I have you down for eleven.” Mitch pulled a mini tablet out of an inside jacket pocket and flipped it open, pulling out a stylus. Zoey rolled her eyes. In the beginning, his uptight nature had seemed like a challenge—one she apparently hadn’t been up to.

  “Twelve,” Zoey corrected. Alan stood at the bar, his back to her, but she sensed he was waiting for her to join him. “Someone else RSVPed.”

  Mitch lowered his stylus. “When did you find that out?”

  “A few days ago. I forgot to mention it.”

  “It takes two seconds to send a text.”

  Zoey crossed her arms as goosebumps prickled her flesh. Why, out of all the men in the world, did Mitch affect her so? “Sorry.”

  He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for half a second. She knew he was trying to find his center, whatever the heck that meant. “I’ll call the boutique and club and see if we can change the reservations.”

  “I’m sure they can squeeze another chair around the table.”

  He drew his lips into a thin line. “I’ll let you know if there are any issues.”

  “Why don’t you ever say what you’re really thinking?”

  “I’d better make sure security got rid of the impostor.”

  Zoey took a step closer, until their noses were practically touching. In heels, she could look him straight in the eye. “Just say it, Mitch.”

  “Fine. It was inconsiderate of you not to notify me as soon as you were aware of the change. Now I’ll spend the drive home making calls instead of responding to emails, and you’ve inconvenienced both the boutique and the restaurant.”

  “The phone calls will take you two minutes. I’ll make them myself, if you’d like.”

  “Luke asked me to take care of it.”

  But she heard the unspoken truth—he didn’t trust her to take care of it.

  “It’s just a chair, Mitch. One extra person. A pretty slender one at that.”

  “I’d better make those calls.” He motioned his head toward Alan, who quickly looked away and focused on his drink. “Be careful with that one, Zoey.”

  She clasped her hands together and gave a simpering sigh. “I’m so glad you said that. My first instinct was to get drunk and spill all Brooke and Luke’s secrets, but now I’ll keep it to the one glass of champagne.”

  Mitch closed his eyes—probably praying for patience. “I’ll let you know if there are any issues.”

  Zoey watched Mitch stride through the crowd, his steps confident and sure. She understood why he had to make the arrangements. Club 33 was members-only, and Mitch had access to Luke’s membership information and credit cards. But she would be so glad when this wedding was over, and they could finally part ways.

  Three weeks, she reminded herself. Just three short weeks until Brooke and Luke said “I do.” The deadline loomed before her, large and intimidating. Three weeks until she no longer needed to have contact with Mitch. Only a few short days until Brooke would pack up her half of the apartment and head to France for the final wedding preparations.

  Maybe the press would go away and Zoey could finally admit she was quitting when Brooke got back from her honeymoon.

  Zoey pushed all those concerns out of her mind. Live in the now, she reminded herself. Worrying about what would happen in a few days, or even a few hours, didn’t benefit anyone.

  She strode over to the bar, standing close enough to Alan that their shoulders brushed.

  “You came back,” he said.

  “I couldn’t let you suffer through this party alone.”

  He raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his Manhattan. “And bless you for that. What are you drinking?”

  “A rum and Coke,” she told the bartender, who nodded. She leaned forward,
letting her fingers skitter over the back of Alan’s hand. Mitch was so wrong about him. And she would prove it. “Now, I believe you were asking me out when we were interrupted.”

  “There is literally nothing that would give me more pleasure. How about Friday night?”

  “Can’t.” She gave a delicate shrug, one she knew drove men wild. “I’ve already got plans.”

  “Not with another guy, I hope.”

  She grinned. It had taken all night, but finally, she’d found a man who knew how to flirt. “A night out with the girls.”

  “Clubbing?”

  “Disneyland.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. How about Saturday night, eight o’clock?”

  “It’s a date.”

  Mitch leaned back in his chair, glancing at the ninety-six emails he still had to wade through before calling it quits for the night. He was leaving for Paris with Brooke and Luke on Sunday, and he wanted to get as much work done as possible before then. Which meant that Friday night meant nothing because he wouldn’t have a weekend. Again.

  He’d thought life was busy when he became Luke’s personal assistant two years ago, but Luke hadn’t been CEO back then. In the nine months since Luke’s—and by default, Mitch’s—promotion, “busy” had taken on a whole new meaning. Mitch’s official job description was to enable Luke to do his job as CEO. That translated to anything from managing the media, to taking Luke’s phone calls, to dealing with his fiancée’s bridal shower.

  Of course, all Luke had really asked was that Mitch pay any bills Zoey sent with Luke’s card. But Mitch had worked hard to foster a reputation as a professional, and he wasn’t about to let Zoey ruin it with her sloppily planned bridal shower. She certainly hadn’t complained when he offered to take care of all the reservations.