Meeting His Match (A Match Me Novel) (Entangled Lovestruck) (12 page)

“That’s why I wasn’t planning on settling down anytime soon. I saw how things developed between my parents. My old man was always more married to the company than he ever was to my mother. If I can’t have a damn dog, how am I supposed to have a wife?” While she was still trying to process that, he kept going. “But now you’ve just got me thinking about a wife and kids, and wondering how much time I’m willing to sacrifice at the altar of McNeill Enterprises.”

Her heart tried to skip a beat before reality set in. She’d succeeded in bringing him around to thinking about those things—that didn’t mean he was thinking about them with
her
.

But…what if he was?

Longing hit her so hard, she nearly curled into a ball. What would it be like to have kids with Caine? To create a big family to fill up that ridiculously large house? It was a fight not to press her hand to her stomach. She’d always wanted children—at least four of them—but that dream had died with Aiden.

Caine’s question from earlier circled back through her head. What would she tell that fictional man who wanted kids? She shifted, not liking the direction her thoughts had taken, and realized he was staring at her. Crap. “Did you figure that answer out?”

“To some extent. I want kids, darlin’. A bunch of them.” She shivered at the intent in his eyes. Intent directed at
her
. “I want a wife who I get to actually come home to. And, unlike my father, I’m sure as fuck not going to miss any of those special moments and occasions. I’m going to be there.”

She swallowed hard.
Focus on the conversation. Take everything at face value. Ignore the panic
. “It sounds like that’s mutually exclusive with the job you hold now.”

“With the way my old man would have me do it? Definitely.”

And that was the crux of the matter. From what she could tell, he’d practically killed himself throughout his entire life to get his father’s attention and make the man proud. Was he really going to throw that all away? It was easy to declare his intentions when there was no wife or children demanding his precious time.

Would his resolve last past the fantasy and into the reality?

Chapter Sixteen

Caine could barely take his eyes off Addison as they ate. He’d never seen her in anything other than dresses, and while he loved the fact that they showed off her legs, seeing her in jeans was something else altogether. The denim was faded from countless washings, and it clung to her like a comfortable second skin. It was as if she’d let down a layer of armor simply by putting them on.

He spoke without thinking. “Would you like to play hooky?”

“I thought you were in the middle of some crisis.”

He was, but he had the feeling that if he let her walk out of here after their meal without figuring out where her head was, he’d lose her. It was a sacrifice he wasn’t willing to make. “I can spare a few hours.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Caine McNeill?”

“Very funny.”

She glanced at the door. “Are you sure your resident prison guard isn’t going to call your dad and report you?”

Agnes probably would. She loved Caine, but she was loyal to the company first. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” The deal wouldn’t explode in the next few hours, and for the first time in living memory, he was almost as desperate to get out of these four walls as he was to spend more time with Addison.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” He took her hand. “Come on.”

Agnes rose when they came through the door, her gaze jumping from Caine to Addison and back again. “You’re leaving?”

“I’ll be back in a few hours.” He stopped in front of the elevator. “Hold all my calls from everyone except Gloucester.”

“What about your father?”

The elevator doors opened and he guided Addison in. “Hold calls from him, too.” It would piss the old man off, but his wrath could wait until Caine was back in the office.

The doors closed and Addison started to step away. He refused to have any more distance between them, physical or otherwise, so he pulled her back into his arms. “What would you like to do?”

“I’d actually like to go out to Old Stone Fort.”

That was exactly the last thing he expected her to say. “Really?”

She glanced at him. “Yeah, why not?”

“I assumed that since you’re from New York and friends with Regan, you’d share her hatred of everything nature-related.”

She laughed. “Hardly. Unlike her, I’m not afraid of squirrels. I actually grew up in upstate New York, so I’m no stranger to the forest.”

It was something else he hadn’t known about her. “If you wear those shoes on the hiking trails, you’re liable to break an ankle.”

“I have tennis shoes in the car.” When he stared, she shrugged. “I was already planning on checking out the Old Stone Fort this afternoon. It’s got a fascinating history, and it’d be silly to spend time in this area of Tennessee without driving down and seeing it at least once.”

It was something he’d seen enough times that it had lost its charm. It seemed like a lot of things had lost their charm since he hit adulthood. “You certainly are prepared.” He followed her to her car, and nearly got hit in the face with a set of keys. “
Shit
.”

“Sorry. I thought you were paying attention.” Funny, but she didn’t look the least bit sorry. “You know where it is and, let’s be honest, I’m not the greatest driver these days. We might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

She wouldn’t have much reason to get behind the wheel, living in the city. Damn it, he should have thought of that and assigned her a driver. “My driving skills are at your command then.”

They headed out of town, a comfortable silence filling the car. Was she still thinking about what he’d asked her last night? He checked the urge to press her on the subject, since it wouldn’t do anything but create strife between them. She was thinking about it, had been since they talked about it, if her comment earlier was any indication. He had to let her work it out on her own or she’d instinctively dig in her heels.

The Old Stone Fort had been around for as long as anyone could remember. Caine had gone out there for a field trip with his junior high history class once, if he remembered correctly. It had been built by prehistoric Native Americans, and there was some debate over exactly how old the fort was and what its history might mean, but what really drew people these days were the handful of gorgeous hiking trails that circled through the area, giving great views of the various falls from the rivers that connected to make the Ancient Indian Enclosure into a peninsula. There was also camping grounds, but his family had never been into that sort of thing, so he didn’t have much experience with it.

Fall had turned the trees’ leaves a rich array of warm colors, making the drive even prettier than normal. Since it was in the middle of a weekday, they pretty much had the parking lot to themselves as he pulled into an empty space.

Addison had already kicked off her heels and laced up her tennis shoes. She didn’t wait for him to come around to open her door before she jumped out of the car. “This is beautiful.”

He shrugged out of his suit jacket and looked around. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“Do you come here often?”

He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. If he’d stopped to think about it, he would have driven by the house first to change. The clothing he wore was more suitable to conducting business meetings than hiking through the woods, no matter how sedate the trails were. “It’s not really my thing.”

She laughed and laced her hand through the crook of his arm, guiding him toward the trailheads next to the museum. “If I went by your questionnaire, you don’t really have a lot of ‘things’ beyond work.”

That had been the truth for the entirety of his adult life. Now he wanted something different. “I’m looking to change that.” He covered her hand with his free one, anchoring her to him.

They bypassed the museum and started down the trail. It was quieter here, almost as if they’d stepped into a different time. The trees whispered with the faint breeze, the sound not quite enough to cover up the crunch of their footsteps on the scattering of leaves over the path.

She let out a breath. “Thank you for coming with me. I don’t mind walking alone but it’s nice to have company.”

And that was just it. She walked every trail—metaphorically or otherwise—alone. He did as well, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to jump at the chance to change. “You don’t have to.”

“Hmmm?”

“You don’t have to do it alone.” He felt the tension in her body, but kept going. As many times as he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t push her, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d let this opportunity pass if it meant she didn’t have to face certain ugly truths. He couldn’t let that happen. He refused to. “You could do it with me.”

“I
am
doing it with you. Right now, in fact.”

It was tempting to leave it at that and maintain the fragile balance they’d created, but Caine had decided last night that he wasn’t willing to let Addison walk out of his life without a fight. “I don’t mean right this second, and you know it. Addison, I care about you.”

She stopped walking, carefully removing her hand from his arm. “You know how I feel about soul mates.”

“I do.” And he’d change her mind if he could—a fact he suspected they both knew. “I’m not asking you to marry me.”
Not yet
.

“Then what
are
you asking me?”

Here was the moment where it would all come together into a new future or fall apart in ruins around him. “I’m asking you to give this—us—a real shot, and stop fighting the connection between us.”

“I see.” She shook her head. “No pressure, then.”

“I know what I want—you. And I know you want me, too. I also know that you’ve been through a hell of a lot in your life and it’s making you skittish. I can respect that.”

A faint smile pulled at the edges of her lips. “Not that you’d let my so-called issues stop you.”

That was an argument for another day. Right now, all he wanted was to get her to take that first step. “I’m not going to tattoo my name on your ass. I’m asking you to be my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend.” She said the word like she was tasting it.

He also wanted her to stay, but this wasn’t a good time to bring that up. Caine had a feeling if he piled too much onto her, she’d rabbit on sheer instinct. So he had to take this slowly and carefully. He held out his hand. “What do you say?”

“It’s not going to work. We’re not soul mates.” Except she didn’t sound so sure when she said that.

“Life has a way of surprising us, darlin’. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“Then why does it feel like such a big deal?” She edged closer, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

Because it
was
a big deal. Neither one of them started relationships lightly, and with good reason. “The unknown is always scary. Luckily, you won’t be facing it alone.” He crooked his fingers. “What do you say? Will you take that jump with me?”

The feeling of her hand slipping into his was perfection. He didn’t haul her closer or kiss her senseless, though he wanted to. Instead, he squeezed her hand and placed it back on the crook of his arm. She took that first step with him down the trail, and he didn’t comment on the way her hand shook where she touched him, and she didn’t comment on the fact that he was grinning like a fool.

Things were finally starting to come together.

Chapter Seventeen

Addison chose the most responsible dress she owned. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so obsessed with what to wear, but this was twice in three days. She wasn’t a fan of this new habit, but tonight she was officially meeting Caine’s parents. After that incident with his father, it paid to be a little paranoid when it came to putting herself together for dinner. He was the kind of man who judged someone at first sight, and never gave a second thought about it.

Knowing what she did about Mr. McNeill, she didn’t like her chances of changing whatever assumptions he’d already made about her.

She refused to call Regan a second time for advice. She could do this. She’d been impressing strangers ever since she started her matchmaking business. Most people came through her doors with a healthy degree of skepticism. She didn’t get to be as prominent as she was in New York without learning to combat such things. Compared to some of her more problematic clients, this dinner should be a piece of cake.

Should
being the operative word.

Her phone rang as she was pinning the curl into place. She carefully nudged the curling iron away from the edge of the counter and answered. “Yes?”

“Don’t kill me.”

Caine sounded so resigned, she wanted to reach through the phone and hug him. “You’re running late?” She smiled. “Now, why don’t I find that surprising?”

“I’ll make it up to you as soon as I get there.”

Problematic schedules were the norm when it came to men like him—men who always had one disaster or another waiting on the horizon. Since he’d taken the afternoon with her, she wasn’t particularly surprised that something had happened. But that didn’t change the fact that, when presented with a choice between her and work—a choice she never would have put to him—he’d chosen
her
. “When are your parents supposed to be here?”

“Five thirty.”

She leaned her head out the bathroom door and bit back a groan. “That’s in twenty minutes.”

“I’m getting out of here as soon as I can—promise.”

Caine and his promises. He seemed to genuinely mean every one of them—he hadn’t broken one since she met him, so she doubted he would start today. Addison took a deep breath and pushed away the nagging sensation that she’d bitten off more than she could chew. He’d been consistent the entire time they’d spent together. That wasn’t going to magically change just because they were in new territory. “I can handle things until you get here.”

“I know you can. I’ll see you soon.”

She hung up, a mess of conflicting feelings coursing through her. She slipped on her heels—one didn’t meet one of the most powerful couples south of the Mason-Dixon line without shoes on—and headed downstairs. Caine had brought in a chef tonight to prepare dinner for them. She told him she was more than capable of cooking and entertaining, but he got this look on his face that told her arguing wasn’t going to get her anywhere. His parents were coming and therefore a chef would cook dinner. It was just the way things were done.

This was his rodeo, so she let him have his way. It didn’t stop her from checking on the chef he’d hired, though. The man shooed her out of the room almost immediately, but not before she caught a whiff of whatever he was cooking. It smelled decadent.

Exiled from the kitchen, she wandered through the house, Gollum at her heels and the four pups trailing after. The piano called to her—it was one of the nicest she’d ever played on—but she couldn’t afford to get caught up in the music tonight. The dog pushed her head into Addison’s hand, obviously sensing some of her nervousness. “It’s okay, girl. I’m just feeling out of sorts.”

Caine wanted her to be his girlfriend. He’d been very, very careful to not ask for more than that, but she’d seen the intent on his face. He was playing for keeps, and he had his eye on her as the prize.

A shiver worked its way through her body. All he wanted was a chance. She could do that. Hell, she’d already agreed to give him that. A small part of her rebelled at the idea, but the rest of her wanted him too much to deny herself as much time with him as physically possible. They hadn’t talked about details or how this thing would work with them, but she cared about him too much to walk away just because she was scared. She was going to give it her best shot.

That’s all she could do, right?

She gave Gollum’s head one last stroke and opened the back door to let her and her pups out. Addison had a feeling that tonight would be tension-filled enough without adding a dog who already didn’t like George McNeill to the mix.

She barely made it back to the bottom of the stairs when the doorbell rang. Addison glanced at the watch on her wrist. Five thirty, to the minute. She might not be particularly close with her parents in recent years, but when they visited they never used the doorbell. The fact that his parents did—and waited for someone to answer—was strange.

She swung the heavy wooden door open, keeping her professional smile in place, and took in the picture they made—almost as if they’d posed on purpose. Having met both the McNeill boys, it wasn’t hard to see where they got their looks. They shared his broad shoulders, square jaw, and dark coloring, though their father’s hair was completely silver. It only served to make him appear even more distinguished.

Mrs. McNeill didn’t seem to have a blond hair out of place. Everything about her was poised and graceful, despite the fact that she wasn’t actually moving. She had the kind of face that put her anywhere between thirty and fifty, and Addison didn’t detect any of the perpetual artificial surprise that came from Botox injections.

God, they got excellent genetics from both sides of the family.

Realizing she was being rude by staring, she brightened her smile and offered her hand. “Mr. McNeill. Mrs. McNeill. I’m Addison St. Claire.” Technically, she’d introduced herself to him the other night, but she would happily block the whole experience from her memory if possible. She hoped he’d give her the courtesy of doing the same.

“I remember.”

Apparently not. She tried not to notice that he barely touched her hand before he withdrew, and his wife followed suit. This might be more difficult than she had anticipated, but she told Caine she’d try, so that was exactly what she was going to do. “The chef has put together something truly marvelous.”

“No, not yet.” He looked around, as if expecting his son to pop out of the woodwork. “Where’s Caine? I tried to call him today and apparently he was out of the office. I don’t suppose you would know something about that?”

She’d have to be a fool to step between father and son, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to. Caine worked insane hours and set aside any social life he might have had—wanted or not—for his father’s approval. The least the man could do was give it to him. But she knew better—if he hadn’t done something to be proud of in the thirty-five years of his life to date, she doubted he’d start now. George McNeill was the kind of miserable man who was never satisfied with anything anyone did, least of all his sons.

So she smiled and ushered them farther into the house because there was nothing else to do. “You’ll have to ask him about that. He’s running a little late—I’m sure you know how that is, sir—but he should be here shortly.”

“If he’d been in his office this afternoon like he was supposed to, he wouldn’t be running late now.”

Mrs. McNeill gave a sigh, turning in a slow circle to take in the room. “Oh, George, I truly miss this place.”

“It’s not ours anymore.” He glared at Addison like this was her fault. “It was time for our son to start his own family, and the only way that’s going to happen is if he’s here on his own.”

Addison tried to process all the facts and undertones she heard from that pointed comment. From the research she’d done, she’d known this was the McNeill family seat, but hadn’t really registered that this is the house Caine had grown up in. She paged through her memory of each room, trying to figure out where he and Brock must have played…and came up with nothing. Everything about this house was geared to adults. What was it like growing up in a house that seemed to have no place for children?

No wonder he hadn’t been eager to start a family of his own. With these two as his parents, she couldn’t imagine a childhood full of warmth.

As they followed her into the formal dining room, Caine’s mother spoke up again. “What is it you do, Addison?”

She’d gotten all sorts of reactions when she told people what she did for a living—from the amused to the intrigued to the downright mean. Somehow, she didn’t think she was going to get a good response from either of these people. “I’m a matchmaker. I own my own company up in New York City.”

“A matchmaker? Is there much market for that sort of thing these days?”

She tried to remind herself this wasn’t a new question. She’d answered it half a million times since she started Connected at the Lips. “You’d be surprised. It’s difficult to meet people despite technology making the world a smaller place. I just help some people connect the dots.”

Mr. McNeill scoffed. “It sounds like you’re a glorified pimp.”

“George!”

Addison met his gaze and it was everything she could do not to drop her eyes. “I am many things, sir, but a pimp is not one of them. There’s nothing wrong with helping two people find each other.”

He didn’t blink. “If that’s true, and you’re so successful up in the city, then what the hell are you doing down here messing around with our son?”

She knew she should keep silent, but she didn’t like the direction his thoughts were apparently headed. “I’m down here at the request of a friend to help Caine.”

“And this friend of yours asked you to sleep with him? Tell me again how you’re not a pimp.”

Her spine was so straight it felt like it might crack in two. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Now see here, girl, that’s where you’d be wrong. You’re in
my
house, with
my
son, screwing with
my
corporation. I’m the
only
person you have to explain yourself to right now.”

Mrs. McNeill looked ready to pass out. “George, please!”

“You just got done saying that this is Caine’s house.”

“He lives here now, but this property and his home are owned by McNeill Enterprises. I’m surprised you didn’t know that, considering all the research you must’ve done before you took him on.” He stepped closer, getting right in her face. “Any matchmaker worth her salt would do research on a client before taking them on. I don’t see how you managed to keep a big fancy company up in New York City if you weren’t at least somewhat competent. Which means you knew my son has a hell of a lot of money before you came down here.”

For all his bluster, it sounded like Mr. McNeill had been doing some research of his own. Addison crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. “If I was looking for a man with money, it wouldn’t require traveling all the way to Tennessee.”

“Be that as it may, one has to wonder if you sleep with all your clients, or just the rich ones.”

Now even Mrs. McNeill had stopped trying to quiet her husband down and seemed to be waiting for an answer. Addison wanted to throw up her hands and scream. This is why she didn’t sleep with clients, though Caine had stopped being a client nearly as soon as he’d become one in the first place. But how was she supposed to explain that to his parents? Neither of them seemed particularly inclined to be forgiving in this situation.

She was saved—or maybe cursed—from answering by the sound of the front door opening. Footsteps echoed through the hall as they stood and waited for Caine to make his way to them. He took in the room at a glance, and crossed over to slip his arm around Addison’s waist. “Mother, Father. It’s good to see you.”

And that’s when things started to really go downhill.

…

Caine should have known better than to work late today of all days—his father was bound to be pissed because he’d been avoiding his calls. But he was on his way out the door when Richards himself called, angry over concessions he’d made to keep Gloucester from backing out. It’d taken an hour to calm the man down, and by that point, there was no way he could avoid being late. He’d known his parents wouldn’t be pleased, but he didn’t expect to walk into the room and find them ready to lynch Addison. His old man’s face was so red, he looked like he was in danger of bursting an artery.

Before he could ask what the hell was going on, his mother pointed a shaking finger at them, her face pale beneath her tan. “You’re… You’re sleeping with this woman?”

They’d devolved to “this woman”? Shit was worse off than he’d thought. “I’m doing a good bit more than sleeping with her. We’re dating.” They may have been officially doing so for only about six hours, but the intent was there, and that’s all that mattered to him.

As he suspected, though, it was exactly the wrong thing to say. His mother practically wailed. “What in God’s name are you thinking, Caine? She lives in New York. A woman like that doesn’t move down here—she just doesn’t. Are you leaving us?”

Well, shit. She’d nearly had a breakdown when Brock moved away. It had taken countless promises not to follow in his younger brother’s footsteps before she’d finally stopped making dramatic comments about every man in their family abandoning her. “No, Mom, I’m not moving away. Please calm down.”

“You damn well better not be moving.” If anything, his father’s face got even redder. “You’ve been fucking around on this deal because of this little piece of tail, and it ends now.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.” He stared his old man down, willing him to take it back or, at the very least, shut the fuck up.

Caine should have known better.

“Unlike you, I call things as I see them. She’s little better than a gold digger and you’ve obviously been spending too much time with that lazy piece of work that is your brother. You’re starting to act like him instead of the man the heir to McNeill Enterprises needs to be.”