One Man Rush. Joanne RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
his tanned skin. Damn it, she couldn’t think when he came closer. She found herself staring at the column of his throat above his collar, his broad chest that loomed close enough to touch.
“It’s okay. I believe you.” He reached for her and she thought all was lost.
Heaven help her, she’d never pull herself together if he kissed her.
Thankfully, he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he took her left hand in his and drew the gold band off her finger. His touch was gentle. Slow. Deliberate.
When the ring was off, he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, never releasing her. She peered up at him, to find him grinning, his teeth a flash of white in the moonlight.
“Then let’s just get this out of the way.” He pressed the ring into her palm and folded her hand around it. “No sense complicating things.”
“Yes. Okay.” When he finally relinquished her, she seemed to be able to think again. She backed up a step, only to find herself against one of the low stucco walls ringing the ground-floor terrace.
Kyle’s eyes locked on hers.
“Looks like you’re between a rock and a hard place, Marissa Collins.”
NORMALLY, KYLE DIDN’T play games with women.
But the jumpy, jittery, delicious female in front of him had played one hell of a game on him with that ring. So he wasn’t going to second-guess what he was about to do for payback.
“I—beg your pardon?” She pushed her glasses up higher on her nose and he could almost imagine her trying to resurrect that good-girl armor she wore.
Who was she beneath the carefully constructed facade?
“No need to beg.” He edged closer, cornering her as effectively as he checked opponents on the ice. “I’m at your service.”
“Excellent.” She feinted left and ducked right with shifty moves that surprised the hell out of him. Suddenly, she was behind him, and by the time he spun around to catch sight of her, she’d yanked that white silk shawl so tight around herself that her shoulders were effectively shrink-wrapped. “Then I would ask you to seriously consider my services, Mr. Murphy. As someone new to Philadelphia, I’m sure you’d enjoy the benefit of meeting a few nice girls without the hassle of trying to seek them out on your own. I’m sure you’re a very busy man.”
His pulse throbbed faster than normal and he realized it was out of frustration. Disappointment that he’d missed out on a kiss he’d really, really wanted.
“Are you honestly giving me a sales pitch?” Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he tried to get a handle on Marissa Collins. “Here? Now?”
“I’m not selling anything. And I apologize if the timing is less than ideal, but I assure you that I’m excellent at what I do. I work with men and women who are looking for that special someone—”
“I’m not looking for anyone special.” He spread his arms wide and declared the point loud and clear to the world at large. “But I will tell you what I am looking for.”
Lowering his arms, he reevaluated his approach to the cagey matchmaker who insisted on talking business when he had better things in mind. He calculated the best angle of pursuit and stalked toward her slowly. Carefully.
Because damn it, he hadn’t been reading the signals that she’d been giving him wrong.
There was more at stake between them than a sales pitch.
“Mr. Murphy—”
“Kyle.” He got closer without startling her.
“Kyle.” She licked her lips, and he wondered if she liked the taste of his name there. “I represent some of the city’s most beautiful, eligible women.”
“I have no time for dating at this point in my career. And to be honest, I’m not interested in any matchmaking service right now whether or not I pay for it.”
His summer would be spent setting up his youth hockey camp, in fact. He’d already talked to some potential sponsors for Full Strength Hockey Camp, a place where kids could learn the sport and gain confidence on the ice. Hockey was expensive and not everyone had the kind of support he’d had growing up. Seeing the kind of background his Finnish foster brother, Axel, had come from made Kyle want to give back. The world would have missed a great hockey player if Ax had been left to languish in Helsinki with a mom who’d already written him off.
So his short-term goals didn’t include anything serious in the dating department. That didn’t mean he couldn’t cash in on a taste of Marissa Collins.
“You wouldn’t,” she assured him quickly, cutting him off. Her grip on her silk shawl loosened.
“Okay.” He noticed she’d stuck the fake wedding band on the thumb of her right hand. Her short fingernails were neat and free of polish, as perfectly groomed as the rest of her. “This is really important to you, isn’t it?”
“Finding the right person should be important to you, too.” She dug in her purse and came up with a navy-blue linen business card with a local address.
“But you’ve sought me out for a reason.” He didn’t take the card. He had the feeling she’d bolt from the terrace the second she closed this deal. “And since I’m not paying you to locate potential candidates to hook up with, someone else must have a bounty out on me.”
She straightened, her indignation wiping away the expression of polite, professional distance.
“I do not facilitate hookups, Kyle. My track record for arranging long-lasting, significant relationships speaks for itself.”
“Then you can arrange an enduring relationship for another guy, okay? Not me.” He’d followed her back to the center of the terrace near the low couch and chairs they’d first sat in.
While it was tempting to back her up to the coffee table and take that kiss his mouth was watering for, a better plan came to mind involving more finesse and less coercion. More of a give-and-go play as opposed to a hard-core slap shot.
Crumpling her business card in her hand, she studied him as if he was a particularly vexing opponent. The fact that she hadn’t walked away yet spoke volumes about how much she wanted his cooperation. He’d all but insulted her business and he’d tried to corner her into a kiss. It wasn’t one of his finer moments, but she’d caught him off guard at every turn.
“Unless …”
He let the word dangle between them, the carrot he needed to entice her.
“What?” She halted the idle mangling of her business card.
“Maybe we could work a trade.”
“I don’t follow you.” She shook her head, a furrow creasing the creamy skin of her forehead.
“Let’s say that I agree to one date with this client of yours who has a hankering to meet me.” He knew that had to be the case. She wouldn’t have pursued him this hard unless someone has specifically requested him.
Did she owe that client a favor or need to impress that person for some reason?
“You’d want something in return.” Her gaze narrowed behind the heavy tortoiseshell frames. “Something beyond the obvious benefit of a pre-screened, beautiful, intelligent date.”
“Since we’ve already established that I don’t see that as a benefit to me, I think it’s only fair I receive some other advantage.”
“Unconventional. But I’m listening.” Her tone was all business.
“In exchange, you have to arrange a date of my choosing.”
She waited a beat, as if looking for the catch.
“That can easily be arranged, of course,” she agreed finally, the genial