Pregnant By The Maverick Millionaire

Two (#ulink_e2647ecf-01a1-57c5-9079-d2988cd36dd3)

“Whose stupid idea was this?”

Kade Webb scowled at his two best friends and rolled his shoulders under his suit jacket, wishing he was anywhere but in the crowded, over-perfumed bar area of Taste, one of the best restaurants in Vancouver. He’d spent most of last night reading P&L statements and had spent a long, tedious morning with Josh Logan’s hard-ass agent negotiating a deal to buy the hotshot wing, and all he wanted was to plant himself behind his messy desk and make a dent in his paperwork. He was trying to finalize their—his, Mac’s and Quinn’s—partnership with old man Bayliss, Wren’s grandfather, so the four of them could make a solid counteroffer to buy the Mavericks franchise before Vernon’s widow sold it to Boris Chenko, a Russian billionaire who owned a string of now generic sports franchises.

Kade didn’t have the time to socialize. To play nice.

What he really wanted, despite it only being noon, was a cold beer, a long shower and some hot sex. Or, to save time, some long, hot sex in a shower. Since he hadn’t had time to date lately the hot sex would have to be a solo act later—how sad, too bad—but really, he’d give it all up, sex included, for a solid eight hours of sleep.

He was burning the candle at both ends and somewhere in the middle, as well.

“Will you please take that scowl off your face?”

Kade looked down into the face of his newly appointed director of public relations and wondered, for the hundredth time, why there was no sexual attraction between him and Wren. She was gorgeous, slim, vivacious and smart, but she didn’t rock his boat. He didn’t rock hers, either. They were friends, just like he was with Mac’s new fiancée, Rory, and for the first time in Kade’s life he was enjoying uncomplicated female relationships.

That being said, he still wouldn’t say no to some uncomplicated sex.

“Kade, concentrate!” Wren slammed her elbow into his side and he pulled his attention back to business.

“Your guests of honor, the main sponsors, should be arriving any minute and you need to pay them some special attention,” Wren insisted, a tiny foot tapping her only indication of nervousness.

“Who are they again?”

Frustration flashed in Wren’s blue eyes and Kade held up his hands in apology. “Wren, I’ve been dealing with player negotiations and your grandfather as our new partner, and fending off Myra’s demands for us to make a counteroffer. Sponsors for this ball haven’t been high on my priority list.”

“Did you read any of the memos I sent you?”

Kade shrugged. “Sorry, no. But you can tell me now and I’ll remember.”

He had a phenomenal memory. It was a skill he acquired as a child hopping from town to town and school to school following the whims of his artist father. Within a day of arriving in a new place, he’d find a map and memorize the street names so he’d know exactly where he was at all times. He’d felt emotionally lost so often that being physically lost was going a step too far. His memory helped him catch up with schoolwork and remember the names of teachers and potential friends, so he could ease his way through another set of new experiences.

Wren ran through the list of the bigger donations and then said, “The Forde Gallery donated one of your father’s paintings, a small watercolor but pretty.”

Jeez, he remembered when his father had to swap paintings for food or gas or rent money. Even his small paintings now went for ten grand or more... It was a hell of a donation.

“We have dinners on yachts, holidays, jewelry, the usual bits and pieces businesses donate. The item that will be the most fun and will get the crowd buzzing is the matchmaking service...”

“The what?”

“Brodie Stewart and Colin Jones are providing their matchmaking services. The winners, one girl and one guy, will be matched up and sent on three dates to find a potential mate. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

Brodie Stewart? His Brodie? The girl who’d kissed like a dream but who’d bailed on him before they got to the bedroom?

“It sounds like hell.” Kade managed to utter the response even though his mind was filled with memories of Brodie, dark hair spilling over her shoulders as she lay against his chest, bright green eyes languid and dreamy after one spectacular hot, wet kiss. He dimly recalled her saying something about her having her own business but why did he think she was in consulting?

“Is she attending this lunch?” Kade asked and hoped Wren, or his friends, didn’t hear the note of excitement in his voice.

“You know this Brodie person?” Quinn demanded. And there was the problem with being friends with someone for so damn long. There was little you could get past them.

“Not really,” Kade replied, sounding bored.

“Let me give you a hint about your boss, Wren,” Mac stated, his arm around Rory’s waist. “When he lies he always sounds disinterested, faraway, detached.”

Unfortunately, being in love hadn’t affected Mac’s observational skills and he was as sharp as ever. “Shut the hell up, McCaskill, you have no idea what you are talking about. I met Brodie once, a while ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about her?” Quinn demanded, unsatisfied.

“Do you tell me about the women you meet?” Kade responded.

Quinn thought for a moment before grinning. “Pretty much, yeah. And if I don’t tell you, then the press will.”

Kade pulled a face. The society pages of their local papers and many internet sites devoted far too much time speculating about their love lives. Mac had provided a break for Kade and Quinn as the media devoured the news that he was settling down with the lovely Rory, but recently they’d restarted their probing inquiries about the state of his and Quinn’s love lives. Many of the papers hinted, or outright demanded, it was time the other two “Maverick-teers” followed Mac’s example.

Kade felt that he would rather kiss an Amazonian dart frog.

Only Mac and Quinn knew his past, knew about his unconventional upbringing as the son of a mostly itinerant artist who dragged him from place to place and town to town on a whim. They understood his need to feel financially secure and because they worked together, invested together and always stuck together, the three of them, along with Wren’s grandfather, were in the position to buy their beloved hockey team, the Vancouver Mavericks.

Yeah, he might be, along with Quinn, a wealthy, eligible and elusive bachelor, but he had every intention of staying that way. Legalities and partnership agreements and a million miles of red tape—and his belief in the loyalty of his friends—had allowed him to commit to his career with the Mavericks, formerly as a player and now as the CEO and, hopefully, as a future co-owner. But a personal commitment? Hell no.

He’d learned that hard lesson as a child. As soon as he found someone to love—a dog, a friend, a teacher, a coach—his father would rip it away by packing up their lives and moving them along. Emotional involvement sent Kade backward to his powerless childhood.

He’d hated that feeling then and he loathed it now. His theory was if you didn’t play in a rainstorm, then you wouldn’t get hit by lightning. He made damn sure the women he dated had no expectations, that they thoroughly understood he was a here-now-gone-tomorrow type of guy. That they shouldn’t expect anything from him.

Despite his up-front attitude, there were always women who thought they could change his mind so he’d still had to ease himself out of situations. Sometimes he managed it with charm, sometimes he had to be blunt, but when he sensed his lovers were becoming emotionally invested, he backed off. Way, way off.

Brodie Stewart was the only woman who’d ever turned the tables on him, who’d backed away before he could. Backed away before he’d even gotten her into bed.

“...she had all the emotional depth of a puddle!”

Kade pulled his attention back to the conversation and caught the tail end of Rory’s comment. She was scowling at Quinn and he looked unrepentant, being his bad-boy self.

“Honey, I wasn’t dating her for her conversational skills,” Quinn stated.

Rory shook her head and rested her chin on Mac’s shoulder. “One day you are going to meet someone who you can’t resist and I hope she gives you hell,” Rory said, her tone and expression fierce.

“Rorks, unfortunately butt-face here claimed you before I did so I am destined to be a free spirit.” Quinn put his hand on his heart, his eyes laughing.

Rory, smart girl that she was, didn’t fall for Quinn’s BS. Instead, she poked Quinn’s stomach. “You will meet her and I will not only laugh while I watch you run around her like a headless chicken, I will encourage her to give you as much trouble as possible.” She stretched past Quinn to jab Kade in the stomach. “That goes for you, too, Kade. The female population of Vancouver has spoiled you two rotten.”

“I’m not complaining.” Kade smiled, taking a sip of his lime-flavored water.

“Me neither,” Quinn quickly agreed. He stuck his tongue in his cheek as he continued to tease Rory. “And I don’t think we’ve been spoiled—we’ve been treated as per our elevated status as hockey gods.”

“That just shows how moronic some women can be,” Rory muttered. She looked up at Mac and narrowed her eyes. “You’re very quiet, McCaskill. Got anything to say?”

Mac dropped a kiss on her forehead and another on her mouth. “Hell no! This is your argument with my friends. But, since I am taking you home and hoping to get lucky, I’ll just agree with everything you say.”

Quinn made the sound of a cracking whip and Kade rolled his eyes before he said, “Wimp.”