Her Seven-Day Fiancé

She studied him over the rim of her glass. “On the surface, that sounds like a valid argument—except for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“It assumes that every potential relationship is doomed from the start.”

“Have you ever had a relationship that didn’t end?” he challenged.

“Since I just told you about my mother’s efforts to find my perfect match, it’s safe to assume you already know the answer to that question.”

“There you go,” Jay said.

She shook her head. “Just because I’m not in love—and not looking for love—doesn’t mean that I don’t believe it exists,” she told him. “And I’m not going to let some artificial boundary determine who I can and cannot date.”

Which prompted him to ask the question that had been nudging at his mind for the past two hours: “Is that why you kissed me?”

Alyssa stared at him, certain she couldn’t have heard him correctly. “What did you just say?”

“I asked if you kissed me because you were tired of waiting for me to make a move.”

His response did nothing to clarify his question, but only succeeded in flustering her almost as much as the kiss.

“I was never waiting for you to make a move,” she assured him. “And when I kissed you—that wasn’t me making a move, that was sheer desperation.”

He frowned. “You’re saying that you don’t want to go out with me?”

“Ohmygod—no!” she said quickly, emphatically.

“By all means, take a minute to think about the question before you answer,” he said drily.

She felt her cheeks burn. “I don’t need a minute to think about it,” she said. “I do not want to go out with you.”

Okay, maybe she secretly thought he was the hottest guy she’d ever known, but he wasn’t at all her type. Not that she had a type—but she was certain that he did. She’d seen him around town with different women on various occasions, and they were all tall, slender and blonde. Alyssa was five feet six inches—when she was wearing two-inch heels—and though she wasn’t overweight, she was definitely more curvy than most of the women he’d dated, with dark hair and eyes that attested to her Mexican heritage.

“And seriously, what kind of question is that?” she demanded. “How massive is your ego that you’d think I was looking for an opportunity to get close to you?”

He just shrugged. “A lot of women in this town consider me to be a catch.”

“I’m not interested in catching you—or anyone. I don’t even want to play the game.”

“So I really was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“You really were,” she confirmed.

But even as she spoke those words to reassure him, there was a part of her that wondered if she was wrong—and that he’d been in exactly the right place at the right time.

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