Seducing The Matchmaker: One Man Rush / Taking Him Down / The Personal Touch

“I—um. They do. But I’d better not.” In a conversation full of surprises, she realized she’d had no problem telling him “no.” Maybe because she knew it wouldn’t disappoint him, unlike the guys who tried hard to catch her attention.

“Right. Probably best not to take a ride from a stranger. But I’m sure hotel security has a car. They can help you find your van.” He opened the door easily and shoved the poster he’d been carrying inside. “I think you’re going to need them because there are no other silver Caravans nearby.”

“How do you know?” She craned her neck again.

“I make it a point to know my surroundings at all times.” He extended his hand. “Isaac Reynolds.”

“Stacy Goodwell.” Tentatively, she accepted the handshake. “I’m sorry if I’ve scratched your paint.”

Warm strength surrounded her fingers as he gave her hand a friendly squeeze. Gentle, but competent. She couldn’t remember caring one way or another about a handshake before, but she liked the feel of Isaac.

“I have touch-up paint at home. I’m sure it will be fine.” He released her fingers long before anyone could ever accuse him of flirting with her.

Maybe that was the problem. She didn’t know quite how to relate to a man who showed utterly no interest in her. She was confounded. And, perhaps, charmed because of it.

“On second thought.” Why should she fear a man who was in a hurry to go home and put touch-up paint on his van? She had mace in her purse if her instincts were wrong. “I’d actually appreciate some help finding my vehicle. Would you mind walking down the row with me?”

As flirtation attempts went, it wasn’t much. But she didn’t have any experience on this side of the equation. She’d been pursued so often, she’d never had to do the chasing.

And considering a pressing need to figure out her love life before her father contracted away her rights to it, Stacy liked the idea of making a move on Isaac Reynolds.

For a moment, he studied her with what almost looked like suspicion in his eyes. But that was crazy. Suspicious of what?

“I can do that,” he agreed, nodding.

She must have imagined his hesitation.

Following him with a new spring in her step, she could almost forget about the relentless clench of her shoes on her heels. Until a stone on the pavement made her turn her ankle. Sending her right into Isaac’s arms.

“I’M SURE YOU’RE NOT a sellout.” Kyle regretted his earlier accusation after seeing how much it affected Marissa. “I have a bad habit of saying whatever comes to mind without thinking it through.”

They drove around his Chestnut Hill neighborhood since it was one of the few areas of Philadelphia that he knew. He’d only been in town for a few weeks and with his team in the play-offs, hockey had consumed every second of his time. But Marissa didn’t seem to care where they were going, her eyes fixed out the front windshield, her gaze a million miles away.

“Being spontaneous doesn’t make it false.” She tugged off her glasses and folded them up, tucking them into a small evening bag. At the same time, she pulled a folded newspaper page from her purse. “And I knew about your tendency to speak your mind. I thought that would give you and Stacy a common trait. But I realize now that she tends to comment on more irreverent topics that feel like they come out of nowhere, while you cut to the chase.”

“Sounds like there would be a huge lack of impulse control in a relationship like that,” he observed, turning down the street where Axel had bought a house. “We’d probably kill each other in a week.”

“So tell me what you think would make for a good relationship for you. I’m not asking to try to find you a date. I’d just like to know how I went wrong since I’m usually good at this kind of thing.” She smoothed the folded newspaper clipping and he recognized the headline from yesterday’s sports section. “All I know for sure is that you’re great at scoring shoot-out goals.”

He tucked into a dead-end street with an outlet onto a vast park. Technically, it was probably closed, but houses backed up to the public property for miles, and it wasn’t fenced. He parked there and cut the headlights. Surrounded by maple trees full of new spring leaves, he cracked the window to catch the breeze.

“Well, you know the most important stuff.” Glancing at the paper she held, he imagined her carefully cutting out the story and folding it into neat sections. He enjoyed the idea of her carrying around his picture, even if it had been for business. “I grew up on Cape Cod. I have five brothers, four by blood and one because I picked him.”

Even Kyle didn’t know the full story about Axel’s past, but he’d urged his family to foster Ax in the U. S. because the guy had gotten into trouble with a bad crowd while he was in high school. But he was aces on the ice.

“How does one go about picking a brother?” She swiveled toward him in her seat and he was mesmerized by the unobstructed view of her gorgeous eyes.

“Axel and I played on an international junior team together. From day one, he told me that if I scored the goals, he’d make sure no one got in my way.”

“He sounds sure of himself.”

“He talks smack but he backs it up. The guy cleaned up the ice with the competition. He was like a Murphy separated at birth.” Kyle hadn’t realized how effective they worked as a team until they’d been reunited this year, each of them experiencing record-breaking seasons. “Ax wanted to come to the U.S. for a better shot at making it in the NHL, so I hounded my mom and dad to take him in.”

“You must have great parents.” Tucking the newspaper back into her bag where it lay on the console between them, she was ready to snap the purse closed when he noticed the decoy wedding ring inside.

With the lightning-fast hands that allowed him to compete at the highest level of his sport, Kyle reached in the bag to filch it.

“You must not date enough if you’re wearing a wedding ring every time you go out.” Rolling the band between his thumb and forefinger, he held it up to one eye like a monocle.

Too bad it didn’t really work to bring this mysterious woman into better focus.

“You said you have no time for dating right now, either, so I’m not alone in putting my career first,” she said carefully.

He had to admire how easily she’d turned that one around.

“So we agree seeing people isn’t a good idea because we’re too busy.” He lowered the ring and slid it back into her bag, not wanting to see it on her finger.

She frowned. “I still believe you would benefit from expanding your horizons.”

“And I think going out with me would be great for you.” He shifted closer, leaning one arm into the console where her fingers rested. “You see how I have you cornered? Any argument you make for me dating is only going to be an argument I’ll make for you to date me.”

“That’s not logical.” She angled forward, too, so she could argue with him; whereas he was leaning forward in order to kiss her. “If you don’t have time to be matched with a woman, you wouldn’t have time for me.”

“There’s always time for the things in life that are most important.”

“You don’t even know me,” she protested, her tone conveying a large dose of exasperation that he felt only a little guilty about. Her violet eyes sucked him in and made him want to linger in the spotlight of that gaze.

“I know you a whole hell of a lot better than I know the Ms. Anonymous who wants to go out with me.” He’d been attracted to Marissa from the moment she ordered a shot of Scotch with her Coke. She was an original from head to toe, oddly unassuming and obviously comfortable on the sidelines, but that was exactly why he wanted to be with her. A woman like that would never date someone just for fame and fortune. “It would be hypocritical of me to date someone else when I’m really, insanely attracted to you.”

Watching her, he let the heat build all around them without saying a word. Without moving an inch. He didn’t need to. The magnetism simply existed, as surely as a scientific principle, whether or not they acted on it.

Slowly, she shook her head. “I can’t. What kind of matchmaker would I be if I swooped in and took the prize catch for myself? No client would ever trust me again.”

Her voice, so impossibly soft, was the only hint that her resolve might have weakened. She sat utterly still, caught in the same heat wave as him, but she seemed determined to ignore it.

“So stubborn,” he observed, taking her hand in his to stroke the backs of her fingers. Trace the rise and fall of her knuckles where her skin was smooth and creamy. “But who would trust you if you set me up with someone else and, in the meantime, you and I couldn’t keep our eyes off each other?”

A breeze drifted in through the window and Marissa lifted her chin as if to catch the cool air on her face. He had the feeling she was trying to find the will to tell him off and shut things down between them. So, upping his game, he raised a finger to her upturned face and sketched a soft stroke down the length of her throat.

Her eyelids fluttered. Her lips parted. And he would have had to have been superhuman to resist the way she looked right then.

“Marissa.” Her whispered name was the last warning he intended to give. Even that was more invitation than anything.

Skimming a touch behind her neck, he drew her closer. His pulse revved as if he’d been running a speed workout as he imagined taking down her hair and letting it spill all over his hands. He caught the floral and spicy scent of her, something exotic and sexy but so slight he’d have to really inhale to identify it.

His lips hovered over hers as he savored the moment and the woman. At the last minute, though, she hooked her fingers over his shoulders and pulled him into her, taking the kiss.

Her mouth was slick with lip gloss and cinnamon flavor, a surprisingly girlish touch on a woman who worked hard to deflect attention. He wanted to lick and nibble away at the flavor until he’d uncovered the woman beneath. Hunger surged after being reined in all night, and he battled to keep the kiss light and seductive. This could not be a one-time deal.