Once Upon a Matchmaker by Marie Ferrarella Page A

her feet and picked up the two plates that were on the counter in front of her. She turned toward the sink. “Tomorrow, I’ll see what I can find out from Donovan for you,” she told him.
    “You don’t have to do that.” He went to take the plates from her and their fingers brushed against each other. “I mean bus your dishes,” he explained, in case she thought he was referring to talking to someone at his company.
    She picked up on the words he’d used. People were like jigsaw puzzles to her. She liked filling in the missing pieces. Most likely, he’d done some waiting on tables himself. Probably when he was in college, she guessed. To earn some extra money.
    “I always clean up after myself,” she protested.
    Micah continued to hold on to the dishes from his end. “You looked after Gary for me. The way I see it, I’m the one who still owes you.”
    “You fed me dinner,” she reminded him. “I consider myself paid in full—and then some.” But because she had no intentions of playing tug-of-war with the plates, Tracy did retract her fingers, allowing her host/client to take possession of the dishes.
    He brought them over to the sink, then put his own on top of them. For now, he ran some water over them to keep the food from sticking.
    Shutting off the water, he turned toward her. “How about some tiramisu to go?” he suggested.
    Normally she turned down offers of doggie bags at restaurants whenever the food server asked if she wanted to take any of her food home with her. But there was absolutely no way she would turn down this offer.
    So, instead, she smiled at him and said, “You certainly do know how to tempt a girl.”
    The phrase—along with her smile—seemed to nudge loose something distant in the back of his brain, a half memory he couldn’t quite get hold of and bring forward. But it did manage to rouse a tiny inkling of nostalgia, as if what Tracy had just said was something that Ella might have said to him once a long time ago.
    It also, for just an instant, made him acutely aware that his attorney was an extremely attractive young woman, the kind that brought conversations to a screeching halt whenever she entered a room.
    Added to that package—and a pair of possibly the longest, sexiest legs he’d seen in a long, long time—was her utterly unassuming air. If anything, it made her doubly attractive.
    He had a strong feeling that Tracy Ryan had no idea just how sensual, how beautiful, she actually was. The more genuinely beautiful women usually didn’t.
    The next moment, Micah realized that he seemed to have completely frozen in place and that she was waiting for him to make good on his offer.
    Embarrassed, but able to hide the fact well—a trick he’d learned as a freshman in college—Micah reached into one of the overhead cabinets, took out a role of aluminum foil and then pulled out a length of foil slightly larger than he needed.
    He used it to wrap up a generous slice of tiramisu for her to take, then held out the wrapped piece to Tracy.
    She smiled as she took the cake from him. Holding it up, she told him, “Consider this a down payment on my services.”
    Micah laughed shortly. As far as he was concerned, he made better desserts. Maybe if she came back to dinner sometime, he’d show her. “You get me my life back, and I’ll make you a cake every week for the rest of your life,” he promised.
    Tracy’s smile, already wide, spread even further. It seemed to light up her entire face, making her appear radiant. She shifted the wrapped dessert to her left hand. “Deal,” she declared, holding her right hand out to him.
    When he realized that she was actually being serious, he was quick to put his hand in hers. “Deal,” Micah echoed.
    She probably thought he was kidding, Micah surmised. But he was willing to do anything to ensure that she had enough incentive to prove him innocent.
    Because he really was.

Chapter Seven
    J ewel Parnell Culhane was one of the private