Pregnant By The Maverick Millionaire

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 (#ulink_6c4fdda7-6f10-5df1-8054-3f0432250905)

The 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.