Pregnant by the Maverick Millionaire (3 page)

Stewart, start acting like the adult you are!

Immediately!

Pulling herself together, Brodie greeted Kade's friends, kissed Wren hello and looked, and sounded, like the professional she normally was.

Quinn smiled at her. Whoo boy, it was a potent grin and she could easily imagine girls falling like flies at his feet. That smile should be registered as a weapon of mass destruction, but Brodie caught the wariness in his eyes and the intelligence he hid behind his charm. “So, you're Brodie.”

“I am.”

“And you're a matchmaker.”

“I am.” Brodie tipped her head, assessing him. “Would you like me to find you someone?”

She had to smile when Quinn flushed and sent a help-me look at his friends. Since Quinn's exploits, mostly in love, kept Vancouver entertained on a weekly basis, she knew he had no problem finding a date. Finding a
partner
was a very different story.

“You know, most of my clients don't have any problems meeting women and they often date a variety of women.”

Quinn frowned. “So why do they need you?”

“Because they are dating the wrong type of women. They want to be in a relationship,” Brodie patiently explained. “Do you want to be in a relationship, Mr. Rayne?”

She was taking the circuitous route to find out what she desperately wanted to know: would Kade be bidding for her matchmaking services? The thought of matching him to any of Colin's clients made her stomach roil. Colin's clients were wonderful women, but Brodie thought the
ick
factor was a bit too high to match her fantasy man with a flesh-and-bone woman.

She'd rather pick her eyes out with a cake fork.

“Hell no! And why am I the focus of attention?” Quinn complained. “Kade is as much of a lone wolf as me!”

Brodie lifted an eyebrow in Kade's direction, as if to say “Are you?” He immediately read her question and responded with an inscrutable smile.

Brodie looked around, her eyes falling on the honey blonde surgically attached to Mac's side. Rory's look was speculative, bouncing from Quinn to Kade and back again. Brodie recognized her assessing, mischievous look. This was a woman wanting to cause trouble...

Mac's deep voice broke her train of thought. “Your hands are empty, Brodie. What would you like to drink? Wine? A soda?”

A small glass of wine couldn't hurt, could it? “I'd love a glass of Tangled Vine Chardonnay.”

Rory tipped her head and looked at Quinn. “Is that the wine you brought over the other night? It was seriously yummy.”

Quinn nodded. “I'll bring a case over tonight. What's for supper?”

“Risotto. Troy is joining us tonight,” Rory replied.

Mac looked appalled. “We're having them for supper again? Troy I don't mind, but these two? Babe, they are like rats, if you keep feeding them, we are never going to get rid of them.”

“Kade and I are the rats,” Quinn told Brodie, smiling. He lifted a huge shoulder. “What can I say? She's a good cook.”

Brodie looked into Mac's eyes and noticed the amusement under his fake scowl. Yeah, he looked hard-ass and a bit scary—they all did—but she could see these men shared a bond that went beyond love. It was too easy to say they loved each other, but it was more than that; there was loyalty here and support, a deep and profound desire to make sure their “brothers” were happy. She couldn't help feeling envious of their bond despite knowing she'd chosen her solitary state. She'd had friendships like that; bonds with Jay and Chels that couldn't be broken by anything except death.

She still missed them, every day. She missed the people who could finish her sentences, who got her jokes. She missed the I-know-it's-after-midnight-but-I-brought-you-pizza conversations. She missed Chelsea, missed those crazy antics—“I'm outside your window and I have a date. Toss down your lucky belt/new shoes/red lipstick/flirty dress.”

She missed Jay, the boy who knew her inside out, the man she'd just been getting to know. His sweet kisses, his endless support, his newly acquired fascination with her body. She still missed the man she thought she'd spend the rest of her life with...

She hadn't been able to reconnect with people on that level again. She wasn't prepared to risk heartbreak. Having her heart dented by loss and being left behind without any emotional support sucked. It stung. It burned. It made her cautious and wary. Scared.

She was very okay with being scared. “And I'm sending you a bill for the food we buy,” Mac grumbled. “Spongers.”

“Rory's a great cook and she likes having us around. Maybe she needs a break from you,” Quinn told Mac as he took the glass of wine Kade had ordered for her off the waiter's tray and handed it to Brodie, ignoring Kade's scowl. “I'll bring the wine.”

Rory grinned. “Excellent. I love that wine.”

“Might I remind you that you won't be able to drink it for a year or so?” Mac muttered.

Rory frowned and then her expression cleared and a small, tender smile drifted across her face. She touched her stomach and Brodie immediately caught on. It took Mac's friends seconds longer to catch up. And, judging by Quinn's and Kade's stunned faces, that wasn't news they'd been expecting. But once they realized what Mac had revealed, they swept Rory into their arms for a long, emotional hug. Kade hugged Mac, as did Quinn, and Brodie felt tears prick her eyes at their joy for their friend. She stepped back, feeling she shouldn't be here, sharing this precious, intimate moment. She half smiled when she noticed Wren doing the same thing.

Weird that Brodie seemed to be present for some of the big, personal Maverick moments. Vernon's death, Mac's baby... She was an outsider, on the wrong side of this magical circle, so it didn't make sense that she was again in the position to hear something deeply personal. This time, at least, it was good news.

“This wasn't how we planned on telling you,” Rory said, jamming her elbow into Mac's side.

Brodie looked at Rory, who had her back to Mac's chest, his big hands on her still very flat stomach. “Congratulations,” she murmured.

“Yeah, huge congratulations,” Kade said, before slanting a sly look at Mac. “Now you're going to have two children under your feet, Rorks.”

“Ha-ha.” Mac scowled.

“I know, right?” Rory replied, her voice wobbly. “I'm going to be a mommy, Kade.”

“You'll be great at it,” Kade assured her and tipped his head at Mac. “But he'll need some training.”

“I'm not old enough to have friends who are about to be parents.” Quinn clapped Mac on the shoulder and nodded to the bar. “We definitely need champagne. I'll get some.”

Wren shook her head and stepped forward. “As much as I hate to break up the party we have work to do and a lunch to host.”

Quinn wrinkled his nose. “Our head girl has spoken.”

Wren threaded a hand through his arm and pulled him toward the dining area. “C'mon, brat. I've put you at a table where you can't misbehave.”

Brodie felt Kade's hand on her back and she immediately, subconsciously moved closer to him, her fingers accidentally brushing the outside of his hard thigh.

Kade tipped his head and dropped his voice so only she could hear his words. “It hasn't gone away, has it?”

Brodie wished she could deny it, dismiss his comment, but she couldn't lie to him. Or herself. She forced herself to look him in the eye. “No.”

His fingers pushed into her back at her reluctant admission. “So, just to be clear, we're saying this crazy attraction is still happening?”

“Yep.” One-syllable answers were all she could manage.

“So are we going to do anything about it this time?”

Wren's efficient voice interrupted their low, intense conversation. “Kade, you're at the main table up front. Brodie, I'll show you to your seat.”

Brodie gave Kade a little shrug and followed Wren into the private dining room of Taste. When she tossed a look over her shoulder, she flushed when she noticed Kade was still watching her.

And he didn't stop looking at her for the next ninety minutes.

* * *

He wanted her. The heated looks they'd exchanged over the three tables that separated them left her in no doubt of that. Jeez, it was a minor miracle the room hadn't spontaneously combusted from the sparks they were throwing at each other.

He wanted her as much as he had six months ago, possibly more. It was insane; it was exciting.

What
was
she going to do about it?

She knew what he wanted, to take up where they'd left off in his loft. In the ladies' room Brodie pulled a face at her reflection in the mirror above the bathroom sink and ran her wet fingers over the back of her neck, hoping to cool herself down but knowing it was a futile gesture. She was hot from the inside out and it was all Kade Webb's fault.

Every look he'd sent her, every small smile, had told her he wanted her in the most basic, biblical way possible.

She was pretty sure she'd returned his message. With interest.

Brodie sighed. Having a fling with Kade wouldn't hurt anyone. Unlike an affair with a married man it wasn't icky, immoral or dishonest. It wouldn't be embarrassing or hurtful. It wouldn't—unless she did something really stupid, like fall for the guy—be painful.

She hadn't had an affair, or sex, for a long, long time; she hadn't been naked with a man since Jared the IT guy and he was around three, or was it four, years ago? She was nearly thirty and she was tired of dating herself.

Could she do it? Could she have a one-night stand with Kade? Was she okay with being another puck he shot into his sexual net? Brodie grimaced at her bad analogy. But could she be another of Webb's Women?

If she was looking for a relationship, and she wasn't because she was relationship-phobic, Kade would be the last person she'd be interested in. Brodie gripped the vanity and stared at the basin, thinking hard.

He was famous and she'd matched enough semifamous guys to know how much time and effort it took to date a celebrity. She couldn't think of anything worse than having your life dissected on social media platforms or in the society columns, but some women got off on it.

She hadn't considered any of this that long-ago morning when she'd agreed to coffee. Everything had moved so quickly and she'd only been thinking in terms of a couple of hours spent with him. But she had noticed that over the last six months the spotlight on Kade had become even bigger and brighter. His life was routinely dissected; his dates scrutinized. The press was relentless and easily turned a movie into a marriage proposal, a dinner into destiny.

Brodie shuddered. Yuck.

That being said, she still wanted him.

If she could go through with it this time—and that was a big if—she couldn't ignore the fact that a quick fling with Vancouver's most eligible, slippery bachelor could have consequences. If they did do the deed and it became public knowledge, as these things tended to do with the Mavericks, it would affect her business. She had a database of clients who trusted her, who confided in her. Quite a few of them thought she was engaged, and a liaison with Kade would not inspire her clients to trust her judgment.

Men, she'd realized, were frequently a lot more romantic—or traditional—than most woman gave them credit for. They could have affairs, play the field and have one-night stands, but they wouldn't appreciate their matchmaker doing the same.

No, it was smarter and so much more sensible to ignore Kade's suggestion that they continue what they'd started. Sleeping with him probably wouldn't be as good as she imagined; she'd probably romanticized exactly how good Webb's kissing was to excuse her crazy, uninhibited behaviour when she was alone with him. No, best to keep her distance...

Good decision, Brodie thought, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. Sensible decision.

Adult decision.

Safe
decision.

So why did it feel so damn
wrong
?

Three

T
he ladies' room was on a short flight of stairs above the men's restroom and when she stepped into the passage, she looked down and saw the blond head and muscular shoulders that could only belong to Kade.

She flicked off a piece of fluff from her shocking pink blouson dress, belted at the waist and ending midthigh. Nude heels, scalpel-thin, made her legs look like they went on for miles. Back in her apartment it had seemed very suitable for a business lunch, but when Kade looked up and his eyes darkened from a deep brown to a shade just off black, she knew he wanted to rip off her clothing with his teeth. Keeping her hand on the banister, biting the inside of her lip, her heart galloping, she walked down the three steps to the marble floor, a scant couple of inches from his broad chest.

He didn't give her any warning or ask for her permission, his mouth simply slammed into hers. Brodie had to grab his biceps to keep from falling off her shoes. Those amazing hands covered a great deal of her back and she was sure her dress would sport scorch marks from the heat. She was intensely aware of him and could feel the ridges of his fingers, the strength in his wrists.

Brodie wound her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth against his. He tasted like coffee and Kade and breath mints and his lips seemed to feel like old friends. Warm, firm, dry. Confident. That word again. His hands bumped up her spine, kneading as he worked his way to her shoulders, moving around to catch her face. His thumbs skated over her cheekbones as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth.

Loneliness—the slight dissatisfaction that hovered like a fine mist around her, the ever-present sorrow—dissipated as he took command of the kiss, pushing her back against the wall and pushing his knee between her thighs. This was kissing—raw, raunchy, flat-out sexy. Brodie felt heat and warmth and moisture gather and felt an unfamiliar pull of fulfillment, a desire to lose herself in the heat and strength and sexiness of this man.

Kade's hand skimmed the side of her chest, down her waist and around to her butt, his fingers strong and sure, experienced. He cupped a cheek, pulled her up and into him, and she sighed as his erection pushed into her stomach. He yanked his mouth off hers and she tumbled into his sinfully dark eyes. “Same old, same old.”

Brodie placed her hands on his pecs and tried to regulate her breathing. Where was an oxygen tank when she needed one? She felt Kade's fingers on her cheekbone, tracing her jaw. “Brodie? You okay?”

Fine. Just trying to get my brain to restart.
Brodie placed her forehead on his sternum and pulled in some much needed air.

“Dammit, Kade,” she eventually muttered.

“Yep, we're a fire hazard,” Kade agreed, resting his chin on the top of her head. “What are we going to do about it?”

“Nothing?” Brodie suggested.

“Yeah...not an option.” She heard the determination in his voice. She knew he would do what it took to get what he wanted.

What
she
wanted. He wouldn't need to do much persuading—she was halfway to following him to hell and back for an orgasm or two.

She was allowed to share some amazing sex with someone who knew what he was doing, her usually quiet wild child insisted. She was twenty-nine, mostly normal but terribly sexually frustrated.

You had this argument with yourself earlier. He's single. You're single. You don't need anyone's permission...

Kade didn't need to use charm, or to say anything at all. She was doing a fine job of talking herself into his bed all on her own.

“Brodie?” Kade stepped back and bent his knees so he could look her in the eye. “What do you say? Do you want to take this to its very natural conclusion?”

Brodie gripped his big biceps, or as much of it as she could get into her hand. He felt harder, more muscular than she remembered. How was that possible? She wanted to undo the buttons on his shirt, push aside the fabric and see what other wonders lay under his expensive clothes. Was his chest bigger? His shoulders broader? His thighs stronger?

“Are you going to put me out of my misery sometime soon?” Kade asked. He sounded like sleeping with her was neither here nor there. Then she took another look at his expression, read the emotion in his eyes.

There was frustration, a whole lot of desire and a hint of panic. Because he thought she might say no? He looked a little off-kilter and not as suave and as confident as she'd first suspected. His hint of insecurity made her feel steadier. That their chemistry had rocked him allowed her to regain her mental and emotional balance.

“God, woman, you're killing me.”

She knew if she said yes, there would be no going back. She couldn't get cold feet, couldn't retreat this time.

She was a little scared—and she should be. She'd laid out all the arguments in the ladies' room. But she could no more stop a freight train than miss this second chance to find out if he was as good as her imagination insisted.

Time to put them both out of their misery. Brodie slowly nodded. “Yeah, let's revisit the past. One night, not a big deal?”

“You sure?”

She knew he was asking for some reassurance she wouldn't change her mind midway through, so she placed her hand on his cheek and nodded. “Very sure. On the understanding this is a one-time thing and it stays between us.”

Relief flashed across Kade's face and she felt his fingers flexing on her back. “I never kiss and tell. But are you sure we'll be able to stop after one night?”

Brodie shrugged. Probably not. “We can give it our best shot.”

Kade stepped back and ran a hand around the back of his neck. “Interesting,” he said.

Brodie frowned. “What is?”

“You have a very...businesslike approach to life. And sex.”

She supposed she did, but life had taught her to put emotion away from daily life. If she allowed emotion to rule, she would've crawled into a cave after the accident and never come out. She turned her back on her feelings because they were so big, so overwhelming. Before the tragedy, she'd loved hard...wildly, uninhibitedly. She'd engaged every one of her senses and she'd been the most emotional creature imaginable.

A car accident had taken her family, but emotion had hung around and nearly killed her, too. To survive she'd had to box it up and push it away...because she couldn't feel happy without feeling sad. No joy without pain. No love without heartbreak.

It was easier just to skate.

Brodie lifted her chin and sent Kade a cool smile. Time to get the conversation back on track. “So, when and where?”

Kade lifted his eyebrows in surprise and Brodie sent him a look, daring him to make another comment about her frankness. He looked like he wanted to and Brodie prayed he wouldn't. Kade seemed to have the ability to look beyond her shell to the mess inside...

She didn't need anyone upsetting her mental apple cart.

Kade looked at his watch and thought for a minute. “I have meetings this afternoon or else I'd whisk you back to my place right now.”

That was something her old self would've done, Brodie mused. Breakfast at midnight, dancing in the rain, unplanned road trips and afternoon sex. The Brodie she was today didn't do wild anymore.

“And tonight is the ball. Are you coming?” Kade placed his hand flat on the wall behind her head and she had to resist the urge to rest her temple on his forearm.

Brodie shook her head. “No. Besides the tickets are sold out.”

The corners of Kade's mouth tipped up. “I'm sure I know someone who can slip you inside.”

It was tempting, Brodie thought, but no. Attending the ball with Kade would make it seem like a date and she didn't
date
.

“Why don't you give me a call in a day or two?” she suggested.

“I don't know if I can last that long,” Kade said, his tone rueful. He jammed his hands into his suit pockets and Brodie couldn't help her urge to straighten his tie. “But...okay.”

“Lipstick on my face?” he asked.

“No, you're fine.”

Kade nodded. “Give me your cell number. And your address.”

Brodie put the info in his phone. Kade nodded his thanks.

Kade's eyes warmed to the color of rough cocoa. “Do you work from home?”

“No, I share an office with my friend and associate downtown. He's also a matchmaker.”

Kade scratched his chin. “I am still wrapping my head around the fact you set people up and they pay you for it. It's...weird.”

She couldn't take offense. Frequently she thought it was a very odd way to earn money—especially for someone who'd once specialized in international banking and who intended to remain single for the rest of her life. But she was curious as to why he thought her business was weird so she asked him.

Kade rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess it's because I've never had a problem finding dates.'

It was such a common misconception. “Neither do most of my clients. They aren't looking to date, they are looking to settle down.” She saw him wince and she had to smile. “So I guess you're not going to be a client anytime soon?”

“Or ever.”

Kade pushed all thoughts of her career out of her head when he lifted his hands to cradle her face. She shivered with a mixture of lust and longing. Her hands drifted across his chest and skimmed his flat, ridged belly.

“I can't wait to spend some time with you.” He bent to kiss the sensitive spot between her shoulder and neck. He lifted his head and gave her a hard stare. “Soon, I promise.”

Brodie swallowed in an attempt to put some saliva back into her mouth.

Keeping his hands on her face, Kade twisted his wrist to check the time and softly cursed. “I've got to get back to the office, I am so late.” The pad of his thumb brushed her bottom lip. “Please don't talk yourself out of this, Brodie.”

She wanted to protest, wanted to reassure him, but she didn't. “See you.”

Kade nodded abruptly, dropped a hard, openmouthed kiss on her lips, then whipped around and headed back to the restaurant.

“You'd better make it very soon, Kade Webb.”

* * *

She'd run ten kilometers and had a cold shower, and despite it being four hours later, she could still taste Kade on her lips. Her lady parts were buzzing; her heart was still thumping. Her heart rate had actually
dropped
when she'd all but sprinted around Stanley Park. How was she going to function for the next couple of days if this heightened state of awareness didn't dissipate?

It had to dissipate—she couldn't live like this.

God, this was why she ran from entanglements. It was so much easier to slide on the surface of life. She didn't like feeling this way. It felt too much like she was...

Well,
living.
Living meant anticipation, excitement, lust, passion. She wasn't good at any of it anymore and she didn't deserve to feel all that, not when her entire family, practically everyone she had ever loved, was no longer around to do the same.

Why didn't I get hurt?

Why did I live when other people died?

Survivor's guilt. She was the poster child for the condition. Brodie walked across her living room, hands on her hips, her brow furrowed. She'd seen the psychologists, read the literature. She knew guilt was common and part of the healing process. Her healing process was taking a damn long time. She knew she isolated herself. Living a half life wasn't healthy—it certainly couldn't bring her loved ones back. But she couldn't stop thinking she didn't deserve to be happy.

Love was impossible.

The sound of her intercom buzzing broke into her thoughts. Brodie pushed back her hair, frowning. She wasn't expecting anybody—her great-aunt Poppy, who lived on the floor below, was out of town—so she couldn't imagine who could be leaning on her doorbell.

Brodie walked to her front door and pressed the switch. “Can I help you?”

“I have ninety minutes, can I come up?”

Kade. Holy freakin'... Because her mouth was instantly bone-dry, she found it difficult to form words.

“C'mon, babe, don't make me beg,” Kade cajoled.

This was madness. This was crazy. She should tell him to leave, tell him that she didn't want him to come up. But that would be a big, fat lie... She did want to see him, preferably naked.

So Brodie pressed the button to open the door downstairs and wrenched open her apartment door to watch him run up. He was still dressed in his suit from earlier. His tie was pulled down and he carried a small gym bag and a tuxedo covered in plastic over his shoulder.

Hunky, sexy, determined man, Brodie thought, leaning against the door frame. Kade reached her and flashed a quick smile but didn't say a word. He just grabbed her hand, yanked her inside, kicked her door closed and threw his stuff on the nearest chair. Then two strong hands gripped her hips and swept her up and into him, her feet leaving the floor. Then his mouth was on hers, warm and demanding, and his tongue swept inside, allowing her to taste his frustration-coated passion.

Whoo-boy!

After a minute had passed—or a millennium, who could tell?—Kade gently lowered Brodie to her feet, but he kept his lips on hers, his tongue delving and dancing. She responded, awed by the pent-up longing she felt in the intensity of his kiss. Her response must have seemed just as demanding, as urgent. Brodie moved her hands to his shirt, tugging it out of his pants. Desperate to feel his skin on hers, she moaned her frustration and then resented the brief separation from Kade's body as he stepped away to unbutton and remove his shirt.

Brodie moved forward and ran her lips across his bare chest, stopping to flicker her tongue over his nipple, to rub her cheek on his chest hair. He was such a man. From the hardness of his muscles to the slightly rough texture of his skin and the smell that called to her senses, he awakened every cell in her body. She could no more stop this than she could stop a freight train. Neither did she want to, she realized.