Breaking the Bachelor (Entangled Lovestruck) (Smart Cupid) by Maggie Kelley

we’d just indulged in a six day friends-with-benefits marathon, and crazy me, I thought I was falling for him. Even though I knew he was physically incapable of saying ‘I love you’ and of being in a committed, long-term relationship, I was falling for the guy. Next thing I know, he’s flirting with some bartender while he’s on a date with me.”
    “You’re certain. We’re talking about the same guy? Charlie, your best friend for twenty years. He—right in front of you—opted to hit on another girl. Sounds kinda suspect to me.” Marianne adjusted her glasses. “Did you know that men are much more likely than women—forty-eight versus twenty-eight percent—to fall in love at first sight?”
    Jane picked up the pile of green candies and popped them into her mouth. “He was flirting. With another woman.” She picked up a second heap of color-coded candy. “And, honestly, a Rum Runner? The least he could have done was flirted with a woman who wanted to know how to make a classic. A Sidecar. Or a Manhattan.”
    But Marianne wasn’t buying it. “Are fight-or-flight management skills on your list?”
    “I left for a good reason. I have no willpower where that man is concerned.”
    Jane wrinkled her nose Okay, so, maybe M.A. had a point, maybe he hadn’t actually been flirting, but the memory of his bartending lesson still stung, not so much because he’d done something wrong, but because of the way it’d made her feel. One moment she’d been envisioning them cohabiting back in NY and the next, she was envisioning herself coming home and catching him “in the act” with another woman. The effect? Devastating. As in, gut-wrenching, heart-bursting, I-couldn’t-possibly-hurt-worse pain.
    So, yes, she’d hightailed it out of there just as quickly as her platform sandals could carry her. Breaking it off was the right choice. She refused to be a chemistry addict, strung-out on Charlie Goodman until he decided to move onto the next available woman. Her mother had taught her all about the world’s most dangerous cocktail—love.
    “Break-ups happen all the time.”
    “Not on a cocktail napkin,” Marianne said, with barely disguised impatience, her intelligent eyes telegraphing her frustration. “Not with a man you’ve known your whole life.”
    “I left him a handwritten note. A handwritten note is legitimate and personal and direct, and yes, okay, in this case, flamingo-pink. But why is everybody acting like my actions fell below the last rung of some sliding scale of emotional acuity? Besides, we weren’t dating, so technically, not a break-up. What’s the big deal?”
    She wanted to bang her head against the desk, but none of this was M.A’s fault. None of it. She let go a sigh. “Anyway, I’m fine matching Charlie, and tonight’s date is a good fit. Shared values, geographical proximity, and an identification on the Shared Humor Index are all positive indicators.”
    “I still think we need to enter chemistry into the algorithm.”
    “No, we don’t. Trust me, okay? Let’s just enter all his criteria into the application matrix in case we need a second date to take him from confirmed bachelor to man in love.”
    Marianne’s uncertain gaze pinned her to the chair. “Man in love—exactly.”
    “And double-check his basic statistics,” she said, tapping on her soda can. “Dark hair, gray eyes, killer smile. Athletic build, six lean feet of impressive muscle, and an ass to die for.”
    Especially in a pair of low-slung denim jeans.
    Not to mention form-fitting athletic pants.
    Or flannel pajama bottoms.
    “Boss?”
    Jane dragged her mind back from the border of Sintown. “Sorry, where was I?”
    The recruiter looked down at the computer tablet. “An ass to die for.”
    She bit hard on her bottom lip. “Better not type that into the profile. Besides, tonight’s date will hit the mark, and we won’t need the personal details.”
    Details like how he knew exactly where to touch her,