THE
MATCHMAKER’S REPLACEMENT
Wingman
Inc. Book 2
By
Rachel Van Dyken
Publisher: Skyscape
Publication
Date: July
26, 2016
Wingman rule
number two: never reveal how much you want them.
Lex hates Gabi.
Gabi hates Lex. But, hey, at least the hate is mutual, right? All Lex
has to do is survive the next few weeks training Gabi in all the ways
of Wingmen Inc. and then he can be done with her. But now that they
have to work together, the sexual tension and fighting is off the
charts. He isn’t sure if he wants to strangle her or throw her
against the nearest sturdy table and have his way with her.
But Gabi has a
secret, something she’s keeping from not just her best friend but
her nemesis too. Lines are blurred as Lex becomes less the villain
she’s always painted him to be…and starts turning into something
more. Gabi has always hated the way she’s been just a little bit
attracted to him—no computer-science major should have that nice of
a body or look that good in glasses—but “Lex Luthor” is an evil
womanizer. He’s dangerous. Gabi should stay far, far away.
Then again, she’s
always wanted a little danger.
Rachel
Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today
Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's
not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and
plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She
keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two
snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!
Want
to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866!
I hated him.
HATED him.
Hate, hate, hate.
I chanted the words to myself that very next morning as I stomped
toward his ridiculously expensive house, next to the ridiculously
nice lake, with his ridiculously loud red Mercedes parked out front.
Jackass.
I’d be doing
society a favor if I set it on fire.
Seriously.
The thing was
probably filled with so much bodily fluid and disease that if he got
in a car accident he’d infect the entire freeway and start a
citywide epidemic.
I shuddered.
I
compartmentalized Lex into two boxes.
The first box was
Childhood Lex, the friend who used to hang out with Ian and me before
he moved across town, never to be seen again. He used to ride with me
to school, and when I was sick he gave me my own box of Kleenex—never
mind that he stole it from his teacher’s desk. The point is,
Childhood Lex was a keeper.
Box number two?
Asshole Lex, also
known as the version I was walking toward. The Lex I met when I was
eighteen, who momentarily stunned me speechless with his godlike
beauty, had been a figment of my overactive, sad, hormone-riddled
imagination.
On the outside?
The perfect man.
With a brooding
and sultry smile.
Biceps the size
of my head.
Who gave me the
distinct feeling that if I ran my hands over his buzzed hair I’d
orgasm before he even touched me.
Whatever. I was
over it. So over it.
A lot of people
had stupid crushes when they were eighteen, right?
Now all I saw
when I looked into his stormy blue eyes was syph or the clap, and
that was being generous. The dude was a walking STD and seriously
tried every nerve I had. He was an ass. Plain and simple, no sugar
coating. He was the type of guy who’d tell a chick that she looked
fat in a dress or who refused to share the communal breadbasket. See!
He couldn’t even adhere to typical manners during mealtime! Just
thinking about him had me tied up in knots.
Last year, when I
went shopping and stupidly invited Ian along—which of course meant
Lex had to come—I was told in no uncertain terms that if I would
just stop drinking chocolate milk in the morning I’d be able to fit
into a smaller size.
He’d smiled.
His dimples had
deepened.
He’d even
crossed his arms as if to say, Look, I did you a favor, pat me on the
back.
Instead I had
kicked him in the balls and tried to give him a black eye, clocking
Ian in the face.
My point? Lex.
Was. The. Devil.
I made a point of
only hanging out with Lex when absolutely necessary, and even then I
almost always had Ian as a buffer. But now that he was playing love
nest with my ex-roomie, Blake? Well, I was on my own.
Lex opened the
door after my third aggressive knock. Black sweatpants hung low on
his hips, a vintage Mariners shirt fell open around his neck, and he
was wearing black-framed glasses that made his eyes more appealing
than should be legal.
“Sunshine,”
he said, his smirk deepening as he crossed his burly arms over his
chest.
“Dickhead.” I
smiled sweetly. “New glasses? They look thicker than last time.”
“Better to see
you with.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits.
“There they are.” He reached for one of my boobs.
I slapped his
hand away so hard my palm stung.
“Probably not
the best way to treat your new male clients.” He shook his hand and
turned towards the living room leaving the door wide open. Manners
were completely lost on him.
Gritting my
teeth, I slammed the door behind me and took off my shoes because I
knew if I didn’t he’d give me hell.
He was a freak
like that.
For as much ass
as he got, it was shocking how much Lysol he used around the house.
His clothes were never wrinkled; everything was pristine.
Even his breath.
Damn him.
He drank coffee
like a Starbucks employee but never had coffee breath.
It was almost
painful, staring him in the face, knowing that everything on the
outside appeared perfect—but didn’t match the inside at all, not
even close!
Beauty like Lex’s
was dangerous and wickedly tempting, like something out of a
paranormal romance novel. Sometimes, at night, when I dreamed of Lex
getting hit by a car, I imagined him as a vampire roaming the streets
in his favorite black sweats, shirtless, shimmering under the
streetlights, just waiting for whores to line up so he could take a
few bites.
A pencil flew by
my head.
“Yo.” Lex’s
eyebrows shot up. “We have a lot of work to do if we’re going to
get you ready for the next two clients. Daydream about chicks on your
own time.”
“I’m not a
lesbian.”
He bit on his
bottom lip, sinking back in his chair as his eyes slowly roamed from
my mismatched socks all the way up to my head. “Okay, whatever you
say, Gabs.”
I will not commit
homicide. I will not commit homicide. “You know,” I said as I
tossed my purse onto the table, “it’s offensive that you assume
all lesbians dress like crap.” So what? I was wearing a ratty white
T-shirt and ripped jeans, and I was pretty sure I still had mascara
on from the night before. It was my Lex repellant. He hated
sloppiness.
“Offensive.”
He nodded. “Also true . . .” He used the spare pencil from behind
his ear to slide my purse over to the farthest side of the table. “It
wouldn’t kill you to wear something other than jeans and T-shirts,
Gabs.” He sighed. “Say it with me: dresssss—”
I grabbed the
pencil from his hand, broke it into two pieces, and handed them back
to him. “I wear dresses, just not for you. Dresses are your
kryptonite, especially short black ones. I refuse to be a part of
your ‘shower time.’”
He snorted. “You
wish.”
“Yes. Every
night when I go to sleep I pray for Lex to dream of me while he jerks
off because yet another girl refused to follow his instructions in
bed : ‘Damn it, use the manual!’” I said, using my best
imitation of Lex’s voice. I’d only heard him shout instructions
to a girl once, and it had scarred me for life. What the hell are you
doing? Do I look like I’m satisfied? There’s a diagram! Ugh.
Lex rolled his
eyes. “Very funny, and the manual is there for a reason. Do you
even know how many chicks get confused when I call out sexual
positions? It’s like, get there faster, you know?”
My feelings were
torn between fascination and disgust. “So,” I changed the
subject. “Let’s train, because I have about ten years worth of
Organic Chem homework.”
Lex sighed and
held out his hand.
“No.” I
crossed my arms. “I don’t need help.”
Okay, I needed
help, desperately needed help, and Lex wasn’t just passably smart
but a certified genius, at least when he applied himself. I refused
to ask him to go over my homework just because Organic Chem was, to
me, like reading a foreign language.
He cleared his
throat.
I didn’t move.
Finally, he
stood, slowly walked over to the end of the table, and fished the
chem book from my oversized purse. “What chapter?”
“Lex—”
“If I’m
teaching you Organic Chem, at least say Professor Lex.”
“Listen very
closely, Lex.” I went over and jerked my book out of his hands. “I
didn’t need your help last year when I almost failed biology, and I
sure as hell don’t need your help now. Let’s just get this
training done so I can go home and suffer in silence, alright?”
“Fine.” He
dropped my book against the table and then, without warning, grabbed
me by my shoulders and pushed me against the counter that bordered
the kitchen. My butt hit the cupboard . “Up until now we’ve been
helping people find their perfect match. Basically acting like a
wingman so that the idiots of this world see the girl who’s been
standing in front of them all along .”
Why was he
standing so close? Did we have to be touching? I told my body not to
respond to his proximity, but Lex was magnetic, even if every part of
him was evil. My brain was having trouble functioning while his large
palms were pressed into the tops of my shoulders.
“Okay.” I
swallowed. “And now that you’re allowing guys to become clients
of Wingmen Inc., I basically do the same thing. Give them confidence,
help them capture the one girl who’s always seen them as the
friend—or worse, who they’ve been invisible to.”
“What’s that
like, I wonder?” Lex still didn’t release me. “Being invisible
. . . Maybe next time a dude ignores you, take notes.”
And another
insult.
“Lex.” I
huffed out a breath. “Just get on with it.”
“Right.” His
eyes momentarily locked on mine before he rubbed the bridge of his
nose where his glasses were perched. It was not sexy. It wasn’t.
Really. That. Sexy. “So whenever we take on a new client, we give
them a list of questions, meet them in a public place, and then use
the power of human emotions like jealousy and curiosity to get the
other person interested. That’s where you come in. If another girl
sees our client as desirable, he becomes desirable.”
“That easy?”
“Sort of.”
Lex leaned forward. “But you can’t suck.”
“Suck?”
“At anything.”
His lips hovered near my mouth. He was starting to freak me out. I
wanted to run away, but I was pinned.
“Lex, if you
kiss me I will bite your tongue off. I swear.”
“If I was
actually kissing you”—Lex released one of my shoulders and placed
a finger against my mouth—“you’d know it. This, my frumpy
friend, is training.”
His lips
descended.
They pressed
against mine, then pulled back. “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Gabs,
you’re going to need to open your mouth a bit more. Guys are
stupid. They always assume that more tongue means better kissing,
when the opposite is true, but you still need to have your lips
parted, not locked down like Fort Knox.”
“What’s
happening?” I tried to push away from him.
Lex rolled his
eyes. “Gabs, believe me, this is all business. You can even keep
your hand on my junk the whole time.”
“What!” I
roared.
“So you know
without a doubt that nothing about you turns me on.” He grinned
menacingly. “Seriously, I don’t mind.”
“I do!”
“Hey!” He
chuckled. “I was just trying to help.”
“Grabbing your
penis is not the answer, Lex!”
“Weird, because
it so often is.”
“I hate today.”
“Is it the
rain?” He frowned.
“It’s not—”
“It is.”
“Stop that!”
I shoved him. “Hurry up and grade my kissing skills so I can go
home and study.”
“Kissing, hand
holding, hugging, cuddling, laughing, winking—just a few things you
need to master.” He was firing off so many horrible, body-numbing
words.
“Just hurry
up,” I grumbled in a defeated voice as I tried to block out the
fact that he was a good-looking ass who offended me with every single
breath he took.
“Ah . . .”
Lex held up his hand. “One never hurries a kiss.”
“What about a
passionate kiss?”
“A passionate
kiss isn’t hurried, it’s frenzied. Damn, don’t you know
anything?”
Heat swamped my
cheeks.
“How many guys
have you kissed, Gabs?”
“Plenty!”
Five. I’d kissed five.
“You blush down
your neck when you lie.” Lex cupped my chin and then brought his
lips down against mine again. “Part.”
Sighing against
his mouth, I relaxed my lips while his slid across.
He pulled back,
wearing a frown of irritation. “A bit more, Gabs. Guys want
access.”
I kept my eyes
open.
So did he.
I didn’t want
him assuming I was into it, which was probably his exact line of
thinking. Only keeping my eyes open was an entirely raw experience,
watching him watch me while I felt him.
I shivered.
“Cold?” That
stupid smirk was back.
“Frigid.” I
glared, putting myself down before he had a chance to.
“You read my
mind.” He nodded seriously. “Now stop being a bitch, and let me
teach you how to kiss.”
“I know how to
kiss!” I don’t know what came over me—maybe it was the need to
prove myself, or possibly it was just stress over the entire
situation. Needing to stay in school and hating that he was the
answer, I wrapped my arms around his neck and jumped, my hips
colliding with his as I mauled his mouth with as much passion as I
could conjure up, this time closing my eyes and putting everything I
had into it.
With a growl, Lex
pushed me back against the countertop. As my butt collided with the
edge, his tongue plunged into my mouth and his hands dug into my
hair, pulling it free from its ponytail while he changed positions
his lips demanding a punishing kiss from a different angle as his he
gave my hair a harder tug back.
I grasped at his
T-shirt, pulling him closer and nearly falling backward into the
sink.
And then, just
when I was in danger of losing myself to the kiss that would probably
be the best kiss of my life, I bit down on his bottom lip.
That move didn’t
work out the way I’d planned, not at all. In my head it was smart.
I’d piss him off, get him to pull back and leave me alone.
It did nothing of
the sort.
Nothing of the
sort at] all.
With a hiss he
pulled back, fire blazing in his eyes. For a split second that seemed
to go on for an eternity, he hovered and I waited, both of us on the
edge of something. He wet his lips, I mimicked the movement, and
then, like a snake, he struck. His mouth fused to mine in a punishing
kiss, one that bruised my mouth while imprinting its essence on my
soul.
