Somewhere on Maui (an Accidental Matchmaker Novel) by Toby Neal Page A

hope. Someday.” She stayed serious. Realized she liked him too much for the charade. Liked him too much not to tell him the truth. She had to be honest about the article.
    “Listen.” She turned to him, leaning on one hand. The shawl slipped off, exposing her shoulder and naked back.
    Adam blinked. His eyes wandered, came back to hers. Color rose to stain his high cheekbones.
    “Listen,” she said again, but couldn’t get her eyes off his. They were golden, with a deep brown ring around the iris, deep-set under bold black brows.
    She thought of the eyes of hawks.
    He seemed as stunned as she felt. “I’m listening.” His lips barely moved.
    “This is all wrong. I have to tell you something.”
    “Tell me.”
    “I—” She felt ridiculousness strangling her. A flush rose up from her navel, sweeping up her body and over her face in a flash of heat. She turned away, stabbed the straw into the drink. “I’m not sure I can go out with you.”
    “Why?” It was a whisper. She felt his eyes on the curve of her back like a touch—gentle, exploring, delicious. She wanted to tell him about the article, about being a journalist, but now she found she couldn’t make herself say the words.
    “I’m still getting over my ex.” An excuse could buy her time. Time to get to know him better. Time to find a way to tell him about the article.
    “Oh.” He straightened up, turned away, took a drink. “Isn’t that always the way.” His voice was clipped.
    “I’m sorry. I like you. That’s the problem.”
    He seemed not to hear that part. “ You’re probably still married or something.” He sounded angry. She didn’t like angry; it scared her.
    “Divorced. Recently and badly.” She hurried, spitting the words into her drink like the bitter fruit they were, and only part of the truth.
     
     
    Adam lifted his beer again for something to do.
    Still getting over the ex. Her words rang in his ears, feeling like rejection. His belly clenched reflexively. If only she weren’t so perfect. He sneaked another glance at her just to make sure.
    Her face, in profile, was pretty rather than beautiful as she stirred her drink—tidy lips, a round chin, a little bob of nose. But her jade-green eyes reminded him of the deep places in the ocean where whales lived. Her lashes were so long they brushed her cheeks.
    The turquoise shawl had drifted toward the floor, emphasizing the long line of her back ending in a sweet, round rear end. The tumble of her hair touched the top of her hips. It was all sorts of colors, like a shiny saddle and also full of gold. His whole body tightened. His hands opened and closed reflexively, longing to tangle in that hair.
    As if he weren’t wound tight enough.
    “Getting over the ex.” He said the words out loud to make sure they were as bad as they’d sounded in his mind. They were. “Too bad.”
    “I’m telling you because I—I don’t want anyone to get more hurt. I remember that from your profile—you want to meet someone who can be true.” She gazed at him then, and those eyes were swimming. The moisture made them huge, and even brighter. The green had gone from jade to the color of new leaves. He just wanted to keep staring at them to see what they would do next.
    “I was pretty sure this Internet dating thing wasn’t for me.” He stood. Reached in the back pocket of his jeans, took out his wallet. Dug a bill out. Caught the bartender’s eye. “Put hers on mine, Manny,” Adam said.
    He’d known Manny for years, and right now Manny’s eyebrows had climbed right into his graying hippie hair with surprise that Adam was walking out on such a beauty. He set the twenty down deliberately, smoothed it. “Now I know Internet dating isn’t my thing. Good luck, Zoe. Hope you get over him soon.”
    He didn’t look at her again. He turned and walked out, every fiber in his being aching to turn back, every hair on his body raised as if struck by lightning—and the bile of bitterness