Matched. Kelli Ireland

time she proved to herself that, though Jeff might have left her damaged, he hadn’t been able to break her.

      No one was that strong.

      Casey’s voice was softer when she spoke, as if she knew where Rachel’s thoughts had taken her. “Pull your hair down out of the predictable chignon, put on that damn green dress and go have a good time. Don’t do it for me, though. Do it for you—for the woman you were and will be again. Starting now.”

      Familiar doubt crept in. She’d once been brave, adventurous, more than a little bit wild. She’d liked herself then. Jeff had liked her, too. It had changed after they’d married, his concept of wifely behavior so different than the woman he’d married. It wasn’t lost on her that the woman Jeff had left her for was exactly the type of woman Rachel had been. The woman who was on everyone’s invite list. The woman who was full of enthusiasm and possessed an easy way about her. Someone with a quick wit and an adventurous spirit.

      “Don’t go down that dark path, Rachel. Please.”

      It was the please that did her in. Casey didn’t beg. Ever. And here she was, reduced to pleading with Rachel to live her life?

      “You make a hell of a compelling closing argument, Case.”

      “You always said cases are easy to win when you know you’re right.”

      With shaking hands, Rachel undid the buttons on the black suit jacket, then shed the heels and the pants. She pulled out the dark green sheath dress, cut off the tags and slipped it on. Next, she grabbed the pair of black patent-leather stilettos from the back of the closet—shoes she’d sworn to only wear when she finally worked up the moxie to wear the dress.

      Tonight was the night.

      Pulling the pins from her hair, she let the mass of mahogany waves tumble down her back. She bent at the waist and flipped over her hair, fluffing it with her fingers until it was free and loose and a bit wild. She flipped it back and turned to face herself in the mirror.

      She couldn’t help but smile. The woman looking back at her was someone she hadn’t seen in far too long, but she would have recognized her anywhere. A quietly confident laugh escaped her, the sound also something she hadn’t heard in a while, and she had missed it.

      “You did it,” Casey whispered. “You put on the damn dress.”

      “I did.”

      The other woman let out what could only be described as a whoop. “Go get him, tigress! Own tonight!”

      “No apologies.”

      “No regrets,” her best friend in the world said. “You better come by my office the minute you get in tomorrow morning because I’m telling you now, I want deets. Dirty, dirty deets.”

      “We’ll see if there’s anything to tell. I have to make a connection first. And it has to be real.”

      “Let’s agree on this now because I know that if you tell me you’ll do something, you’ll do it. Always. You don’t break vows.”

      Rachel swallowed hard. “Agree on what, exactly?”

      “The three qualifications Mr. Right Now has to have to pass the Rachel Stephens test.”

      “Three?” Rachel squeaked.

      “Three.”

      “A guy has to have more than three qualifications for me to consider getting down and dirty.”

      “No, he doesn’t. If we were discussing Mr. Right? Sure. But we aren’t. This is Mr. Right Now. So three it is.”

      Rachel scowled.

      “You’re almost six feet yourself, so he has to be tall,” Casey said, starting the list.

      “Kind,” Rachel countered.

      “Kind is for counselors and protein bars.”

      “Casey,” Rachel warned.

      “He needs to be seriously hot.”

      “Intelligent,” Rachel countered. While a guy being hot was nice, his looks did nothing to help a conversation along if he wasn’t bright.

      “Intelligent can be a bonus qualifier. This is a one-night stand, Rach, not someone who’s boyfriend material.”

      “Fine. But, Casey?” She stared at herself in the mirror, trying to imagine what strangers might see when they looked at her. “There has to be chemistry. Real chemistry. That’s not negotiable.”

      “Then there’s your list.”

      “What?” Panic nearly choked her. “That’s not enough!”

      “Yes, it is. For a one-night stand, it’s plenty.” That tone—it was one Rachel recognized.

      That tone meant Casey had reached the point she was about to let down the facade she sported, the one of the fun-loving, slightly ditzy blonde femme fatale. One could push Casey only so far and then boom! She dropped the facade and the hard-ass took over. Rachel had her own version, she supposed. Or she had once. Regardless, she didn’t want to fight with Casey. She needed her too much right now.

      “Now promise me—swear to me—that if you meet a guy with these three qualities, you’ll make a play.”

      Rachel swallowed once, then twice, through a throat clenched tight in history’s unyielding fist. She took a deep breath, admiring the way the dress made her full B-cup breasts look just a little larger, the push-up bra making her cleavage just a little more substantial than it really was. “Remind me to send a thank-you note to Victoria’s Secret for their water bra.”

      Casey laughed. “Deets, girlfriend. I want the down and dirty tomorrow because I’m telling you now, there will be a connection tonight.”

      Rachel closed her eyes and smiled. Maybe Casey was right. Maybe tonight was the night she’d back take her life.

      No. No maybes about it. Tonight was the night. She would own it, and whatever happened? Happened. “I promise,” she whispered. “Casey?”

      “Yeah?”

      “I’m back.”

      The other woman sniffled, the sound small but undeniable, and her voice wavered a bit when she spoke. “I’ve missed you, Rach.”

      “Me, too, honey. Me, too.” She stood up straight and took one last look at herself in the mirror. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have men to meet and connections to make.” She paused for a split second, trying to find the right words. Then she said, “Thank you, Casey. Thank you for standing by me and for reminding me who I really am.”

      “Thank you for finally listening. Now go slay the last of your dragons, and do it without remorse.” The grin on her friend’s face translated seamlessly to her tone.

      “No regrets,” she affirmed.

      Casey disconnected the call without another word.

      Rachel grabbed her satin clutch and dropped her bold red lipstick inside before snapping the little bag closed. One last glance in the small mirror beside her front door confirmed that the woman who looked back was ready.

      Her eyes shone with a vitality she had missed for a very long time. She took a deep breath and pressed a fist against her abdomen in an attempt to settle sudden nerves fluttering behind her belly button. It didn’t matter if the man she connected with was Casey’s brother, the bartender or one of the software engineers for the Power Match app. If there was chemistry, she was going to see this through. A liberation, of sorts. But more, a definitive reclaiming of her life.

      A small, involuntary smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

      No regrets, indeed.