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.
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1WQqkdX
ABOUT RACHEL VAN DYKEN:
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!
You
can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin
Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com .
Links:
Amazon
Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Rachel-Van-Dyken/e/B0054TW5AA/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1407369649&sr=8-2-ent
EXCERPT:
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.
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