- Home
- Jillian Quinn
The Match
The Match Read online
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Chapter One
Contents
The Match
Also by Jillian Quinn
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
More than Friends
Chapter One
Jillian’s Bad Boy Mafia
Join My Reader’s Group
Also by Jillian Quinn
About the Author
The Match
Jillian Quinn
The Match
One date. Wrong match.
When the raven-haired beauty popped up on my phone as a match, I had to have her. She became a fast obsession, one I couldn't get out of my head. Our first date was a disaster. But when it came to sex, we made sense. So, we came up with an arrangement—sex with no strings attached.
Everything was working out until she became my new employee. I was supposed to train her, show her the ropes. But she made it impossible to stay away. The closer we worked, the more I realized maybe we were the perfect match. She just didn't know it yet.
Also by Jillian Quinn
MORE THAN SERIES
More Than Friends
More Than Roommates
LOVE IN THE END ZONE SERIES
Roughing
Holding
FACE-OFF SERIES
Parker
Kane
Donovan
Jameson
For more information, visit JillianQuinnBooks.com.
Copyright © 2018 by Jillian Quinn
All rights reserved.
Visit my website at JillianQuinnBooks.com
Cover Design: Sarah Paige, Opium House
Editor: Lindsay Galloway, Contagious Edits
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chapter One
SLOAN
My cell phone dings with another match. I slide my finger along the screen to open the app and stare at Ava’s picture. Long black hair, denim-colored eyes, pale skin, and nice, plump lips stare back at me. She’s a twenty-six-year-old student from New York who recently relocated to Philadelphia.
Her profile ends with a line that makes me laugh. “If you’re looking for a good time, call 867-5309.” Like the song by Tommy Tutone. How clever. That wouldn’t work on everyone, but it sure does with me. Ava is not only beautiful and smart, she’s also funny. I like her.
After I click the button to verify our match, it seems like hours before my phone dings again with Match accepted. I suck in a deep breath, thinking of something interesting to say. Nothing comes to mind.
Me: Hey! Nice profile. I tried to call the number, but it was busy.
I clutch the phone in my hand and wait, watching as the chat bubble pops up. She’s typing. Thirty seconds later a message appears.
Ava: The second I hang up with one guy another calls. You wouldn’t believe all the calls I get.
Me: Funny girl.
Ava: I amuse myself.
Me: I’m entertained. Dinner this Friday?
Ava: Depends. Are you a serial killer?
Me: Only on the weekends.
Ava: I guess we should change our dinner until Monday then. Just in case.
Me: We could move it up to Thursday. I get tired after all those kills.
Ava: At least you’re not boring.
Me: Did I pass the test?
Ava: I guess. You’re a doctor, right?
Me: A surgeon. So, dinner this week?
Ava: As long as you’re not the Hannibal Lecter kind of doctor and plan to surgically remove my kidneys.
I shake my head, laughing, and type out a quick reply.
Me: You’ve got a thing for serial killers, huh?
Ava: You have no idea the kind of dates I have been on lately. A girl’s gotta have standards.
Me: Like not getting eaten.
Ava: Lol at least not in that kind of way.
Ooh, she’s dirty. I like it.
Before I can respond, another message comes through.
Ava: How about drinks? The Fountain Lounge at seven on Thursday. Dinner afterward if you’re lucky.
Me: Perfect. See you then.
I slip the phone back into my lab coat and stroll into Dr. Foster’s office, surprised to find the Chief of Surgery sitting next to him.
Chief Swanson extends his hand, telling me to sit in the chair next to him. “Chief,” I say to him, and then look at Dr. Foster, who’s sitting behind an old oak desk. “Dr. Foster. Is everything okay?”
“Nothing major, Dr. Hart,” Chief Swanson says to me. “Dr. Foster is taking a medical leave of absence to have posterior tibialis tendon surgery.”
“I wouldn’t call that something minor.”
“At least it’s not my hand,” Dr. Foster says with a polite grin. “I will be out for the next three months. Chief Swanson asked me who I thought would make an excellent interim Residency Program Director, and you were the first doctor that came to mind.”
I take a seat next to the Chief, unsure of how to respond. Surgery is my life, but am I ready to train surgeons?
“As you are aware,” Chief Swanson says, staring at me, “I am retiring at the end of the year. Taking over for Dr. Foster while he’s on leave could help further your career.”
In other words, train new surgeons and you have a shot at making Chief. Got it.
“Yes, I’ve heard,” I tell him.
“Think of the next three months as a probationary period to see how you run a team of surgeons,” the Chief continues. “You might find that you like having a more authoritative role.”
I hold out my hand for Chief Swanson to shake. “Thank you for the opportunity.” Then, I extend my hand to Dr. Foster. “Thank you for thinking of me. It means a lot coming from you.”
Chief Swanson stands and slaps his hand on my shoulder. “Make us proud, Dr. Hart. Your future is depending on this going well with the residents.”
I peek up at him and force a smile. “I won’t let you down.”
“Good to hear it.”
Chief Swanson says his goodbyes to us, before exiting the office, leaving me wondering what the
hell just happened. I have a date with a beautiful raven-haired vixen and a new job that could one day earn me the title of Chief of Surgery. Overall, this is not a bad day.
Chapter Two
AVA
After I unpack the last cardboard box, I lay back on the mattress in my new bedroom. Moving from New York to Philadelphia with Stacey was easy. My father paid for all of our moving expenses. All we had to do was unbox our things.
Stacey Carlyle, my friend since my first year of medical school, walks into my room with a loud sigh, announcing her presence. She plops on the bed next to me and drops my cell phone into my lap.
“You have a date tomorrow night. You’re welcome.”
I sit up and turn to her, confused. “No, I don’t.”
“As of an hour ago, you are meeting a surgeon for drinks and maybe dinner tomorrow night at the Fountain Lounge.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What did you do?”
“Trying to help you out of your funk. I was afraid your lady bits would dry up if you didn’t get yourself some action. I talked to him earlier on the dating app I signed you up for last night.”
I slide my thumb across the screen to open my phone to a picture of a man named Sloan. Cute name. Sexy man. But I don’t date doctors.
“You know how I feel about doctors, Stace. How could you do this to me?”
“He’s hot. Who cares what he does for a living? You don’t have to marry him. Just meet him for a drink and maybe use him to blow the dust out of your cooch.”
I stare at the picture of a man with dark brown hair that sweeps over his forehead. He has green eyes so dark they remind me of emeralds against his tanned skin. Maybe I can make an exception for Sloan.
“What did you say to him?”
She holds her hand over her mouth and chuckles. “You don’t want to know.”
I shove the phone at her. “Show me.”
“Why are you so technology illiterate?”
“I have no problem using medical equipment,” I remind her.
“While that may be true, you still have no clue how to use a digital camera or Facebook.”
“Facebook is just not for me. What can I say?”
“That’s because you’re anti-social.”
I roll my eyes at her. “I’m not interested in videos of cats and how to make a no-bake cake, and digital cameras have too many buttons and options. I miss the days where you just point and shoot.”
She chuckles. “You’re impossible, Ava. I swear you remind me of my grandmother. That’s why I did you a favor and set you up with this delish doctor.”
I suck in a deep breath and let it out. “I still can’t believe you. What am I supposed to wear to this date? I haven’t worn more than scrubs and pajamas since I started medical school.”
Stacey slides off the bed, extending her hand to help me up. “Time to go shopping in my closet. I have the perfect dress for you.”
I let out a frustrated groan. “Ugh, you expect me to wear a dress?”
“Of course I do. Get your shit together, woman. If you ever want to get laid again, you need to put on a bra that pushes up your tits instead of those frumpy sports bras you’ve been wearing. Maybe shave your legs. That would be a good start. He doesn’t need to brush up against a cactus. And makeup. I am going to make you look like your old self. The girl I met four years ago was hot. Let’s find her.”
I follow behind Stacey out of my bedroom and into hers. She tears apart her closet until she finds a strapless black dress that stops mid-thigh and a pair of red heels. Stacey hands them to me with a smile.
“You’re all set. Now, go shave, pluck, and whatever else you need to womanscape. This guy is expecting the person he saw in the picture, not the worn-out med student who hasn’t straightened her hair in over a year.”
I tug at the high, messy ponytail on top of my head and sigh. “A guy should like me for me. All of this is stupid. I don’t get online dating.”
Stacey gives me a disapproving look. “Knock it off, Ava. You are going on this date with McDreamy’s twin, okay? No bullshit. I am doing you a favor. You need this. Once we start our residency on Monday, our lives belong to Penn General. This is our last chance for freedom. Thursday through Sunday morning we are partying our asses off, starting with your date with the hot doc.”
I force a smile, even though I know she’s right. The last guy I dated was about eighteen months ago, and that was a complete train wreck. He tried to steal my hospital badge to get into the pharmacy to sell pills. I have never had the best taste in men. My radar is broken when it comes to picking potential mates. Maybe I am better off having Stacey choose men for me on some dating app.
Either way, I have to go tomorrow night. I can’t back out now. What do I have to lose?
The Fountain Bar is a lounge inside the Fountain Club, a brand-new luxury hotel located in downtown Philadelphia. They have a steakhouse that occupies the first and second floor, with guest rooms on the upper floors, and a bar on the ground floor, to the right of the front desk. I have no problem spotting the lounge when I walk into the brightly-lit space.
Everything looks expensive, from the white marble floors to the glass windows that span from floor to ceiling, showing off the city skyline. The view is impeccable, unlike any other hotel in this part of town. At least Sloan has good taste. Well, I think this was Stacey’s idea to meet here. Of course, she would choose a place this expensive. She likes to make men pay for the pleasure of her company with their American Express cards.
I run a hand down the front of the black dress Stacey picked out for me and take a big breath, letting it out as I step inside the bar. My eyes scan the room for a few seconds before landing on the gorgeous man from his dating profile. Sloan is at the bar, his body slightly angled toward the door. He’s dressed in a black suit, his jacket open, and the top buttons of his white oxford unbuttoned. A silver tie hangs loose at his neck, as if he was playing with it and would rather ditch it all together.
I stroll over to Sloan, nervous, my body set on fire the closer I get to him. What if he doesn’t like me? What if the picture Stacey painted of me is nothing like what he was expecting? The idea of online dating and meeting strangers scares the crap out of me. I prefer the old-fashioned way, even though that hasn’t worked out too well for me in the past.
Sloan hears me approach and turns on his stool to face me. His eyes travel from my face to my legs and back up to my face. He smiles so wide it reaches up to his green eyes. Up close, the color of his irises has me so entranced I can’t help but stare.
“Ava?” Sloan asks.
I nod. “Yep, that’s me, and you must be Sloan.”
He stands to pull out a bar stool for me. “What are you drinking?”
We take our seats, and I contemplate his question. “I haven’t drank in a while. Umm…What’s good here?”
“Are you not supposed to drink?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just never have time to do anything fun. School takes up most of my time.”
“I know all about that,” he says. “I spent four years working on my undergrad, then another four in medical school, and seven for my surgical residency.”
“That’s a lot of school,” I tell him. Changing the subject, I say, “I’ll have a Heineken. It’s been a long time since I had a beer. I kind of miss it.”
I never like to talk about my background because of my father. Because Sloan is a doctor in this city, he knows my dad. Everyone knows Dr. Lawrence Roberts, the top cardiothoracic surgeon in the state. My dad is legendary and an idol to most surgeons. He invented his own methods that made him a superstar in his field from an early age.
At least Stacey had enough sense to leave medical school out of my profile and kept it to full-time student. The last thing I need is another fanboy who wants an introduction. I’m curious if he works at the same hospital as my father but am too afraid to ask.
Sloan takes the beer from the bartender and sl
ips it into my hand, making a point to touch my skin. Tiny bumps dot on my flesh from his warmth. All too aware of our closeness, I push my chair back. Sloan seems to notice, his body tightening in response.
Shit, I already made this awkward.
He turns to drink from the pint of beer he ordered, avoiding eye contact with me. Unsure of what to do, I place my hand on Sloan’s thigh and move into him. The further I slide my hand up his leg, I feel him tense beneath me.
Before I realize what I’m doing, my mouth is only inches from his. Our lips are almost touching.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asks me, covering my hand with his.
An awkward pause passes between us, where we stare into each other’s eyes, breathing against the other’s skin.
“Uh-huh,” I mutter, at a loss for words.
What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter Three
AVA
For a second, I stop to think about Stacey and our conversation last night about having a few more days left of freedom. We become surgical interns at Penn General on Monday. I need one night of mind-blowing sex with a hot doctor to make up for the years I will miss out on having any fun.
My father had told me stories about sleeping on gurneys in crowded hallways between his shifts as a resident, long before I ever got my acceptance letter to Columbia University, his alma mater. I did the same thing as him a fair share of times while I was in medical school, shifting between the university and my clinical requirements at the hospital.