since the day before high school started when she’d slathered herself in baby oil and accidentally fallen asleep on the beach.
And it wasn’t just the heat in her cheeks that had betrayed her when she’d been with Nick Kaplan. He’d grinned at her, eyes dark and intense, and every part of her had gone warm and tight. No man had ever caused such fireworks inside her. Around him, she felt on the verge of something…something unknown—something that stirred her blood.
But those first-day-of-spring flutterings didn’t matter. Her goal was to find him the perfect woman. Not an imperfect, cursed, inexperienced virgin.
Resting her arms on the side of the pool, her grandma let out a contented sigh. “So, are you going to lay into me or what?”
Maggie tried to look perplexed. “Now, why would I do that?”
“Maybe because I gave you a gorgeous hunk of man for a roommate and you’re afraid you won’t be able to control yourself around him.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Maggie scoffed, but inside her heart something fluttered. “Maybe it’s that you lied to me and told me that that hunk of man was really a shy, sweet girl.”
“You know, there actually was a girl, but when the boy came along…”
“You couldn’t help yourself.” Maggie sighed. “You’re not even going to apologize for tricking me, are you?”
“For being a matchmaker, you mean? No, I don’t think so. I will always be on the lookout for you.” Kitty grinned at Maggie’s frown. “Look, sweetheart, Nick really needed the room. And he was willing to pay a little bit extra. And with you getting your business up and running I knew you could use it.” The cunning in her eyes warmed to grandmotherly affection. “Oh, my, I can’t wait to see Maggie’s Matches. I’m so proud of you. When can I come by?”
Temporarily forgetting her irritation, Maggie allowed her grandma’s interest to veer the conversation off course. “The weekdays get pretty hectic with all the last-minute fix-ups—electrician, plumber, that sort of thing. How about next Saturday?”
“Next weekend’s no good, honey.” Kitty winked at her. “A group of us are going to Vegas.”
Vegas! Her grandma didn’t gamble, or at least Maggie wasn’t aware that she did. Kitty had always said that gambling was for people who had the social skills of a hermit and who kept the hours of a vampire.
But before Maggie could inquire further about the impromptu trip, something caught her grandma’s eye and she turned. Curious, Maggie followed her line of vision and saw a tall, tanned and very good-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair waving at them from the other side of the pool. Well, not at them, she realized quickly. The man was waving at her grandma.
“Who’s that?” Maggie asked.
Kitty turned back, her eyes bright. “Just a friend.”
Maggie stared at her grandma in astonishment. “Are you blushing, Grandma?”
“Of course not. It’s just the exercise.”
Maggie didn’t buy it. “Is he a client?” Kitty was supposed to be retired from matchmaking, but Maggie knew from very recent and personal experience that the older woman just couldn’t seem to help herself.
Kitty grinned. “You mean, am I helping him to find love?”
Maggie nodded, her own grin widening.
“I’m going to do my very best to help Ted find love, honey.” She had a faraway look in her eyes.
Was her grandma actually dating? Was she in love? Happiness filled Maggie’s heart as she watched Kitty walk up the steps of the pool. Happiness and concern. She couldn’t stop her hand from going to her throat, touching her gold locket—her constant reminder that the Conner women were great at finding love for others. Just not for themselves.
Her grandfather had died just six months after he’d married Kitty. Maggie’s mother had thought she’d found the love of her life at eighteen, but the man had taken her virginity and left her pregnant.
It was The Conner Curse.
But as Kitty watched Ted move away from the pool area and out of sight, the glow emanating from her face looked like excitement, not worry.
“Good men are hard to come by,” Kitty said as she sat down next to Maggie, swept off her swim cap and ran her hands through her short, dark-gray hair. “Nick Kaplan is a good man, Maggie.”
Maggie handed her a towel. “I’m sure he is.”
“Helping others find love doesn’t mean you shouldn’t find a little for yourself.”
“I don’t have time to think about myself right now.” She’d never told her grandma that she believed their family to be cursed. Kitty would call it rubbish and try to convince her otherwise. And Maggie didn’t want to hear it. She knew what was true, and she wasn’t going to tempt the Fates. “I have a business to run. A future to think about. I’m hoping that this new roommate you’ve found me will actually help to make it a success.”
Kitty shook her head dejectedly. “That doesn’t sound at all like what I had in mind. How is he going to do that?”
Maggie told her grandma about the four-week agreement with Nick. She tried to sound as professional as possible. She didn’t want Kitty to even suspect how incredibly attracted she was to Nick. It wouldn’t do to give the woman any room to hope that her little plan might work. And besides that, Maggie was convinced that any and all feelings for the man would subside over time like the heat of a chili pepper after an ice-cold lemonade.
“Yes, I know that scenario well,” Kitty said finally. “Converting the nonbeliever. It was one of my favorite challenges.” She slipped the red cotton sweater over her shoulders, then turned and gave her granddaughter a kiss on the cheek. “I think you’ll be a wonderful success, Maggie. But take it from me, try and make a little time for romance. All the success in the world can’t make up for the lack of it.”
If there was one thing Nick Kaplan hated it was shopping malls. Miles of stores, tons of people and a food court that sent up the unmistakable stench of fake international cuisine. He slowed his bike when he entered the parking structure, pulled his motorcycle into a space and cut the engine. He still couldn’t believe that he’d let Maggie talk him into this. He was the damn head of a construction company—not some teenager with a point to prove. But at least he had a place to leave his toothbrush.
And what a place. Situated high up on what the locals called the Riviera because of its similarity to the French Riviera, it overlooked everything—town, mountains and the ocean. Like most of the homes in Santa Flora it was Spanish in style, with two small balconies attached to the bedrooms. Lemon, orange and fig trees dotted the lush front lawn, while pots of flowers decorated the front stoop. Inside the small home, the mood was something he could definitely appreciate: comfort. Cozy couches, rustic oak tables and colorful rugs. Elegant and simple, just like her, he’d remembered thinking. No surprises there.
That was until he’d gone upstairs, into the bathroom.
Hanging over the shower rod like a scene from some racy foreign film were undergarments. And not white cotton briefs as he would have
