A Matchless Romance: Aisle Bound, #4

By Christi Barth

This matchmaker is bringing nerdy back...

Brilliant video game designer Drew Watson is all work and no play. He's more at home locked away in his office writing code than using his Clark Kent good looks to charm female investors. Too bad his boss considers talking to funders a non-negotiable requirement. To keep his job, this clueless hottie needs a woman's touch.

Savvy businesswoman Tabitha Bell is about to take Chicago by storm with her premier matchmaking service. A fairy godmother to those looking for love, she can't resist recruiting Drew as a client. From the moment they meet, their chemistry is undeniable. With a sexy smile and a set of drool-worthy abs hidden beneath gamer-chic hoodies, he's the perfect candidate for Tabitha's matchmaking makeover skills.

Turns out he could also be perfect for her... if Drew wasn't her client... and if he thought he stood a chance with someone as amazing as Tabitha.

Will it be happily ever after for the matchmaker and the nerd?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christi Barth
• Release date: May 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201734565

Christi Barth

USA Today bestselling author Christi Barth earned a Masters degree in vocal performance and embarked upon a career on the stage. A love of romance then drew her to wedding planning. Ultimately she succumbed to her lifelong love of books and now writes award-winning contemporary romance. Christi can always be found either whipping up gourmet meals (for fun, honest!) or with her nose in a book. She lives in Maryland with the best husband in the world. For info on all of Christi’s other books, please follow her at: Website: http://www.christibarth.com Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/christibarth/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/christi_barth Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3272041.Christi_Barth Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/christibarthauthor Instagram: https://instagram.com/christibarth/

Book preview

A Matchless Romance

The Aisle Bound Series

CHRISTI BARTH

Copyright © 2020 Christi Barth

All rights reserved.

DEDICATION

To the most romantic man I know, my darling husband, who spoils me rotten and showers me with love.

More titles by Christi Barth:

Bad Boys Gone Good Trilogy

Bad For Her

Never Been Good

Got It Bad

Naked Men Series

Risking It All

Wanting It All

Giving It All

Trying It All

Having It All

Bad Decisions Series

The Opposite of Right

The Reverse of Perfection

The Other Side of Wrong

Sexy Misadventures of Royals Series

The Princess Problem

Ruling The Princess

Tempting The Prince

The Aisle Bound Series

Planning For Love

A Fine Romance

Friends To Lovers

A Matchless Romance

The Shore Secrets Trilogy

Up To Me

All For You

Back To Us

Love Lottery Series

The Accidental Fiance

Definitely Not Dating

Beach Duet

Love At High Tide

Love On The Boardwalk

Check My Heart

Act Like We’re In Love

Carolina Heat

Cruising Toward Love

Never Too Late

The Do-Over

Christmas books

Ask Her At Christmas

Tinsel My Heart

The Magic of Christmas

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to Adam Dray & Laura Welling for sharing their technical expertise of gaming and the tech world. Big hugs to Lea Nolan for beta reading. I owe the MRW Scribblers and Angela James a huge debt of gratitude for making me re-start this book. Immeasurable thanks to Stephanie Dray—she knows why.

CHAPTER ONE

No matter how fast Drew Weston ran down the tree-lined Chicago street, he couldn’t escape his problem. Even if he managed to strap turbo thrusters to his shoes, it wouldn’t make a difference. Aside from looking kick-ass cool, that is.

Huh.

The row of old brownstones behind black wrought-iron fences faded out of focus as his mind clicked into designer mode. Turbo sneakers. Interesting idea to work into his next video game. That is, if his boss-from-hell gave him the chance to come up with a new game. Thinking about Keiko fueled his frustration, and he put on a burst of speed.

Which plowed him right into the soft curves of a woman.

Moving solely on reflex, Drew grabbed what he could. It happened to be her lush ass. He spun to slow his momentum and keep them both from crashing to the ground.

They ended up plastered against a glass storefront. Late afternoon April sunlight haloed around her deep red hair. The sensual hits didn’t stop there. Her thighs tight to his, breasts crushed to his chest, and glossy peach lips parted in surprise. Wow.

This was the closest he’d been to a woman in ninety-four days. Ninety-four endless days—and endlessly frustrating nights—since he’d last had sex.

Cause yeah, he’d been counting.

They might be vertical right now, but the position definitely put Drew in mind of horizontal hijinks. Made him wonder if the thick black lashes on those green eyes of hers would flutter shut if he pressed his mouth to hers.

Did you run into me just to cop a feel? she asked in a husky voice. One that sounded like the beautiful redhead had rolled out of bed after screaming her pleasure to the rafters for three rounds.

No. What kind of creep did she take him for? For God’s sake, this wasn’t some sleazy alley at midnight.

Sure, he’d gotten off of the El at the wrong stop, so Drew couldn’t pinpoint his location. But this street was only a block away from what the bumper-to-bumper traffic he’d seen lurching below the train indicated was a main drag. He’d jogged by a couple of boutiques and art galleries as he tried to run off his irritation. All he’d really done was feel stupid for running in jeans.

Her eyes narrowed. Then is this your lame, signature move? Did you figure that once we sidewalk snuggled, I’d be putty in your hands?

No. Drew knew just enough about women to know it was never that easy. I figured running into you was better than making you fall down. Lesser of two evils. But I’ve gotta say, the result doesn’t suck. After all, the hot mystery woman still hadn’t pulled out of his loose embrace.

Thanks. High, arched eyebrows gave her a look of being in on a joke with the rest of the world. Now do you maybe want to let go of my ass?

Wouldn’t be my first choice. It’s a pretty terrific ass. Nevertheless, Drew dropped his arms to his sides. He didn’t want to scare the pretty woman Fate had dropped into his path. Maybe she was a karmic present to balance out the barely five feet of nasty-tempered, impossible-to-please female back at his office? Which of the three Greek Fates would’ve been responsible for creating that balance, he wondered.

Huh. They’d be good to work into a game, too. Or maybe the Norns of Norse mythology.

Then Drew wondered why he was thinking about game design at-freaking-all when the most beautiful woman he’d ever been lucky enough to hold still touched him from shins to shoulders?

A smile flitted across her lips. You do say whatever crosses your mind, don’t you? That’s both unexpected and refreshing. I think I’ll give it a try. To his surprise, she still didn’t step back. Instead, she slid a hand between his hoodie and his T-shirt, fingers splayed across his heart, then stood on tiptoe to whisper into his ear. Next time, cutie, just ask first.

Could she feel his heartbeat kick up about a zillion notches? The statement, though full of potential, demanded clarification. Drew didn’t want to risk screwing up. Next time I accidentally cop a feel, or next time I see you?

With a laugh, she finally put some breathing room between them. Just enough for Drew to notice the color slicking her lips matched her fitted jacket. It nipped in at a waist he could probably span with his hands. And damn if he didn’t want to try. Beneath it, a cream, lacy thing dipped across the swells of her breasts. Not that he was looking or anything.

I’m surprised you’ve got time to flirt. She made a big show of looking down both ends of the street. The way you were running, I figured there was a hoard of zombies after you.

Talk about a fantasy come true. Or at least a really great sequence from his best-selling video game, Trolls Under Tribeca. A sexy, gorgeous woman who could also talk zombies? Willingly? Drew’s inner nerd took over his brain’s joystick. You know about zombies?

She crossed her arms. Took another step away from him. No more than anyone else with a love of schlocky horror movies. Why? You’re not going to try and convince me they’re real, are you?

Uh oh. He’d lost her.

Now she thought he was one of those lunatics who couldn’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality. The ones who put the crazy candy coating around the all-natural fun of gaming conventions. Drew scrambled to regroup. Of course not. I wouldn’t have moved to Chicago if it had a zombie problem.

The twinkle in her emerald eyes faded.

Shit. Lame joke. Big mistake.

A minute ago, he’d had his hands all over her, and now the possibility of that ever happening again seemed all but impossible. Drew decided to go with the truth. It couldn’t make the situation any worse. He shuffled his scuffed sneakers and jammed his hands in his pockets.

Seriously, I don’t believe in zombies. But I spend a lot of time thinking about them. For my work. And in my experience, most women don’t think about zombies at all.

Her posture didn’t relax, but the corners of her mouth tugged upwards. Color me intrigued. What on earth do you do for a living? Dig graves? Embalm people?

Something far worse. According to my parents, anyway. The degree from MIT he’d worked so hard for was just another piece of paper to them. At least if he dug graves, he’d be doing something physical. Something they could understand and respect. I design video games. One, in particular, that’s chock-full of zombies. And trolls.

Oh. My. God. To his utter disbelief, the redhead reached out to wrap her small, soft hands around his. God, what else was that incredibly soft? Vanilla pudding, maybe? Or a drop of liquid mercury? Don’t tell me that Trolls Under Tribeca is your game?

Yeah, Drew spun the word out cautiously. Cause suddenly this whole thing felt like a setup. A prank. Some new-guy hazing by his team back at Game Domain. Because women who looked like her never cared about the fantasy-filled video games he designed.

I love it, she said in an excited rush. It scares me silly, but also makes me feel like a badass warrior. Whenever I have a bad day, I come home and kill zombies for an hour to smooth out the mental kinks. She shook her head, smiling. Talk about a stroke of luck. I mean, at first, I thought you were just another good-looking guy, but now I realize you’re brilliant, too. Lucky me.

Now Drew was certain it was a prank. Women looked at him and saw a nerd, not a jock. Brains, not brawn. Out of a nervous habit that wouldn’t quit, he started to push up the glasses he’d discarded only a month ago after laser surgery freed him from a lifetime of frames.

Who are you? he asked. If his team was behind this little encounter, she’d say something like Mona Lott. It took no time to discover he headed up a group of creative geniuses.

Geniuses, however, with a sense of humor firmly lodged in the eighth grade. Drew’s first day he discovered toilet paper stamped with a photo of the current president. In a bi-partisan spirit, the next roll was stamped with a picture of the former president. On day three, his office chair was replaced with a replica made out of carefully stacked toilet paper rolls. But Drew rolled with it. He’d expected to take some licks as their new boss.

Tabitha Bell. She pulled back her hands to criss-cross them over the cleavage he was not, repeat, not staring at. Drew felt like he’d diverted every single synapse not responsible for cardiopulmonary support to the job of keeping his eyes off her chest. Huge fan. I’m on level thirty-seven of Trolls. Having a hell of time stopping those sea monsters trying to batter a hole in the Lincoln Tunnel. A friend gave me An Eye in the Shadows for my birthday, but I won’t let myself get sucked in until I hit level fifty of Trolls.

Dropping specific game detail meant she might be for real. If so, her love of gaming, combined with a body that put Jessica Rabbit to shame, made her the most perfect woman in the world for a nerd like him.

Drew still found it hard to believe, though. The tantalizing Tabitha belonged out at swanky wine bars, chasing troubles away with champagne bubbles. Or dancing them off in a classy club. Not working her way towards carpal tunnel with a controller alone in her apartment.

Drew Weston. He gave a short nod. It’s, um, great to hear from a fan.

The pleasure’s all mine. Tabitha wrinkled her nose. It connected her freckles into a straight line. One that Drew wanted to lick. See if they tasted like cinnamon. Well, sort of. Selfishly, I want to picture your days spent locked in a BatCave. Hunched in the darkness, the only light a glow from your three monitors while you mastermind the next game in the Trolls series.

He bit back a laugh. You’re not too far off. From day one, it had been drilled into Drew that Game Domain had different floors for a reason. Executives on the top floor, sales and marketing below them, then an entire floor for player testing.

Drew hadn’t even seen any of those floors yet. He and the rest of the creative/design team were kept in lockdown in the basement. The ground floor, with the mailroom and cafeteria, acted as a buffer zone to keep the creatives away from the rest of the staff.

Did it make him feel like a mutant, a genetic experiment gone wrong? One hidden away not for its