id="u320abe63-63ec-5c44-a035-d70be5cd8ee7">
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take advantage of you like that,” he told her, still cupping her cheek with the palm of his hand.
Her voice felt as if it was going to crack at any second as she told him, “You didn’t. And there’s nothing to be sorry about, except …”
“Except?” he prodded.
Lily shook her head, not wanting to continue. She was only going to embarrass herself—and him—if she said anything further. “I’ve said too much.”
“No,” he contradicted, “you’ve said too little. “‘Except’ what?” he coaxed.
Lily wavered. Maybe he did deserve to know. So she told him.
“Except maybe it didn’t last long enough,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper, her cheeks burning and threatening to turn a deep pink.
“Maybe it didn’t,” he agreed. “Let’s see if I get it right this time,” he murmured just before his mouth came down on hers for a second time.
* * *
Matchmaking Mamas: Playing Cupid. Arranging dates. What are mothers for?
Diamond in the Ruff
Marie Ferrarella
A USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award-winning author, MARIE FERRARELLA has written more than two hundred books for Mills & Boon, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, www.marieferrarella.com.
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To
Rocky and Audrey
who made my life so much richer
in their own unique way.
Contents
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
Maizie Connors, youthful grandmother, successful Realtor and matchmaker par excellence, looked at the tall, handsome, blond-haired young man standing in the doorway of her real estate office. Mentally, she whizzed through the many faces she had encountered in the past handful of years, both professionally and privately. Try as she might to recall the young man, Maizie came up empty. His smile was familiar, but the rest of him was not.
Ever truthful, Maizie made no attempt to bluff her way through this encounter until she either remembered him or, more to the point, the young man said something that would set off flares in her somewhat overtaxed brain, reminding her who he was.
Instead, Maizie shook her head and admitted, “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“I was a lot younger back then and I guess I looked more like a blond swizzle stick than anything else,” he told her.
She didn’t remember the face, but the smile and now the voice nudged at something distant within her mind. Recognition was still frustratingly out of reach. The young man’s voice was lower, but the cadence was very familiar. She’d heard it before.
“Your voice is familiar and that smile, I know I’ve seen it before, but...” Maizie’s voice trailed off as she continued to
