While she was attracted to him, she apparently viewed sex as a hedonistic pleasure until she found the real thing.
Love.
“It would be nice to have the freedom to make the choice to do things just for me.” She tipped her forehead to his chest. “I’ve had more fun with you these last few days than I’ve had in a long time.”
His arms went around her on instinct. And because he really, really wanted to hold her. He’d had a great time being with her, too. Would she feel differently about going on the road with him if they defined the relationship somehow? But this wasn’t high school and he couldn’t risk complicating things any more.
He’d never intended to make these kinds of decisions while his career was in high gear. He was crazy about her. Might even…yeah. He might have bigger feelings for her, too.
But for right now, he needed to focus on his game. With a win tonight, the Phantoms would clinch their division. A surefire play-off berth.
And not even the hottest woman on earth was going to distract him from achieving everything he’d worked for.
“Stay for tonight’s game, okay?” His chest burned when he thought about letting her go. “But if you still want to leave in the morning, I’ll call around and book a flight home for you tomorrow.”
* * *
ISAAC HAD PLANNED HIS
approach with Stacy carefully. He’d drawn up a mental blueprint and considered various executions to increase his chances for success.
Yet he’d never envisioned the level of enthusiasm of her response.
She was in his arms in a flash, her freshly washed hair still damp from a morning shower. With her arms wrapped around his neck, the silk robe and the jacket he’d given her had parted, allowing him to feel her curves through nothing more than thin cotton pajamas.
Her lush breasts pressed against his chest and her mouth fitted to his in a kiss that started out sweet and slowly turned…wow. Too erotic for a street corner. A whistle from the driver of a passing car told him as much even if he’d been too overwhelmed to string the thought together himself.
“We should…wait,” he urged, breaking away from the kiss while still holding her close. He couldn’t pry himself much farther from her. “This probably isn’t the best place for—”
“Making out?” she suggested, her blue eyes full of mischief as she rolled her hips against his.
Without question, she could feel how much he wanted more than a make-out session.
“That, either.” He dragged in a deep breath to try to will away his reaction, but Stacy didn’t help matters when she smoothed a palm down his chest and dragged her fingers lower.
“Why don’t you come inside and warm up first?” she suggested. “You only just arrived.”
A gray-haired woman walked by wheeling a small cart with a grocery sack strapped to it, her appearance reminding him to back off the public display of affection. But as Isaac tugged Stacy toward the side of the street, the woman winked at him.
“I don’t want to misinterpret this,” he began, not trusting his instincts when they were operating on a primal level. “Are you seducing me?”
Her eyebrows lifted. A small smile twitched the corner of her lush lips.
“I’d prefer you seduce me—”
A roar of satisfaction surged through him and it took all his willpower not to pin her to the brick wall of the building and kiss her until they forgot their names. Instead, he spun her in his arms and steered her toward the entrance to the inn. Staying close behind her, he wrapped an arm around her waist to hold the jacket closed over her delectable body.
Ask and you shall receive,
Stacy thought to herself, realizing now why she hadn’t ever truly voiced her thoughts and her heart to a man before.
She’d been waiting for Isaac. Someone who listened. Someone who looked into her eyes even if he was thinking about her body. And
oh, my,
she could tell he was thinking about her that way now.
His body brushed hers as they walked into the bed-and-breakfast and up the stairs to her room, dogs leading the way. While she opened the door, the hard, muscular strength of him pressed behind her. Something had shifted between them—something besides the obvious—when she had playfully suggested she wanted to be seduced. Judging by the way Isaac marched her into the bedroom and closed the door behind them, leaving Tink and Belle out in the living area by their food and water, Stacy could tell he’d taken her very seriously.
She should have known there was no such thing as a playful suggestion with this intense, quiet man.
“I hope I didn’t rush things,” she blurted, suddenly self-conscious about her flirtation. “Sometimes I say the first thing that pops into my mind and—”
His dark gaze met hers. He crossed the floor in a heartbeat, lean muscle and long legs eating up the space between them.
“I like the way you think.”
She breathed in his words, the notion appealing to her on every level.
“You’re going to make me a very happy woman.” She knew it on a soul-deep level, trusting her instincts with a gut sureness she’d never felt about anything except her decision to leave home.
Isaac’s hands molded to her waist, then slid around to span the small of her back.
“Very happy,” he agreed, fingers climbing up her spine in a smooth dance that sent shivers down her spine. “Also, very excited.”
Reaching the collar of her pajamas, he slid one hand beneath to caress the bare skin of her shoulder. The warmth of his palm rasped over her flesh with tender care. His touch was thorough. Thoughtful. It stole her breath to think about what it would be like to have all that Isaac intensity focused on her body.
A fire leaped in her belly. Ribbons of pleasure unfurled from the place where he stroked her.
“I’ve been fantasizing about you,” she confessed, splaying her fingers over the soft cotton button-down he wore. Through the fabric, his heart slugged hard.
“I hope you describe those fantasies in painstaking detail for me one day.” He eased open the top two buttons on her top. Parted the fabric. “But if this moment gets any better for me right now, I might not survive it.”
Cool air hit her breasts, the tips tingling and sensitive. She wanted to rip off the rest of her clothes and his, too, but then again, she didn’t want to miss seeing what he did next.
Shrugging off her robe, she wiggled out of her pajama top at the same time. The loose fabric pooled at her feet and she stepped out of it, her toes almost on top of his as they stood chest to chest.
She was so ready for this. For him. Desire simmered beneath her skin, a warm current flowing to every pore of her body. But he didn’t crush her to him. Didn’t fall with her to the bed. He bracketed her face with his hands, smoothing his thumbs over her cheeks as if he would memorize the shape. Then, spearing his fingers into her hair, he pulled her mouth to his to brush a kiss over her lips.
Liquid fire danced in her veins. He kissed like a god, sure and knowing, claiming her mouth like an erotic explorer, leaving no place untouched. All the while, his hands skimmed her body, arousing erogenous zones she never knew she had. The back of her neck. The side of one shoulder. When he circled the soft indent of her elbow, her knees went weak.
Her whole body burned. Isaac captured her lower lip and tugged it between his teeth, the act so overtly sexual she felt a little preliminary spasm deep between her thighs.
Hungry for more, she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, wrestling the discs through the stitched cotton. Her progress slowed as she peeked at what she’d unveiled. For a glorified techno-dude, he had the body of an Adonis. Smooth, sculpted muscle. No fat. No overinflated he-man bulk.
“I want to feel you against me.” Her fingers were hung up on the cotton, a cocktail ring twisting in a buttonhole. Why hadn’t she taken the silly thing off when she’d dressed for bed?
“Let me.” He freed her finger and then slid the jewelry off, settling the fat green agate on the nightstand. “You don’t need any decorations, Stacy. You’re perfect.”
In no time, he had his shirt off and his belt was gone. His hands went to his trousers but she stopped him.
“I’ll be careful,” she promised, palming the length of his fly and feeling the breadth of what lay beneath. “In fact, I could do this with no hands.”
She lifted her palms in the air and licked her lips to prove the point.
His mouth covered hers instantly, capturing her tongue and circling it with his own. His hips strained against hers now and she loved the urgent feel of his movements as he dragged her pajama pants down her thighs. She backed toward the bed.
He followed, lips still sealed to hers. And despite her offer to undress him the rest of the way, he shed his pants and tossed his wallet on the mattress, no doubt putting a condom within easy reach.
“Thank you for finding me,” she murmured, eyeing his boxers with anticipation. “I’m so glad you came for me.”
His grin was wicked. Feral.
“Now it’s your turn.” He cupped her bottom and guided her down to the bed. “Are you going to come for me?”
He had no idea how much she wanted him. She felt the tremor of her first orgasm swirling already. They’d kissed for so long and she’d fantasized about him since the moment they’d met.
And
oh,
it felt like heaven when he lowered his head to her breasts and drew the tip lightly between his teeth. Rolled the nipple along his tongue. A moan bubbled up her throat, her thighs shifting restlessly beneath him.
When he touched her there, one finger dipping into her sex while he cupped her mound, she flew apart. Sensation rocked her, her release rolling over her while Isaac coaxed more and more from her.
She wanted him inside her, feeling the storm along with her. But her breath dragged in and out of her lungs so hard she could barely speak. By the time he rolled the condom into place, the last orgasm had finally slowed down, leaving her blissfully sated and somehow hungry for him at the same time.
His erection jutted toward her, exactly what she craved and more. She reached for him, wanting to stroke the length of him, but he caught her wrist and stopped her. Instead, he guided himself closer to where she wanted him. He entered her slowly, hands bracketing her shoulders on the bed. The feel of him inside was indescribable completion.
Locking her legs around his waist, she held him there, arching her hips to his to bring him the same pleasure she’d just felt. Only now, the sensation built for her again, too. He sucked in a breath and held it as he held himself back. But the slick friction drove her wild, her fingers seeking purchase on his back as she drew closer and closer to that point of no return.
“Wait.” Isaac stilled her with a hand on her shoulder, the heel of his palm resting on the swell of her breast. “I need to touch you.”
“I’m close, though,” she admitted, knowing one stroke of his finger could send her over the edge again.
“That’s okay. So am I.” He brushed a kiss over her lips, assuring her he was right there with her.
When he reached between them to touch the taut nub of her sex, she let herself go, her back arching as pleasure dragged her under again. Only this time, Isaac’s control broke, his hips sinking all the way into her and pinning her against the bed. His shout put the dogs in a frenzy on the other side of the door, his voice mingling with hers. A chorus of absolute perfection.
His smile mirrored hers when she was able to move again. Locked together, she could have sworn they shared the same emotion. The same thoughts.
“This is going to be the best first date of my life.” He rolled her to her side so they could lie together.
“I’m really looking forward to it, too. But before that, I want to know everything about you. Your job. Your family. Why a smart guy like you would ever fall for a girl like me… . I want to know it all.”
It was a new beginning. She didn’t know enough about him, but she looked forward to learning everything.
All on her own, she’d found her perfect match.
12
“GO! GO! GO!”
MARISSA
shouted like a madwoman, leaping to her feet when Kyle got the puck late in the third period.
Eyes glued to the Phantoms’ leading scorer and the sexiest man she’d ever met, she fisted her hands and willed him on as he flew down the ice. She might be leaving tomorrow, but she planned to root him on tonight.
Jammed into a sold-out arena among the home crowd rooting mostly for the other team, she held her breath as Kyle powered past the other players. She’d seen it throughout the game when he was on the ice. He was unbelievably fast. More than that, he could keep the puck under control as if he had glue on his stick. They called him the Playmaker with good reason.
Now, he drew back his stick for a breakaway shot. She could almost see the panic in the opposing goalie’s eyes.
An opponent’s stick came hurtling down out of nowhere, tomahawk-chopping Kyle’s before he got the shot off. The home crowd roared in approval. The breakaway play died and the refs blew their whistles.
“Cheap shot!” Marissa called, hands cupped around her mouth as if that would megaphone the message to the offender. “You oversize goon! Did you see that?” she turned to the people seated nearby. “The other guy couldn’t keep up so he flung his stick in the way.”
Some Pittsburgh fans nearby chuckled at her, clearly proud of their team’s goon. Kyle had explained to her before the game that some defenders resorted to cheap tactics to stop a goal, but she hadn’t expected such violence. She’d never seen a live hockey game. The game riveted her. Or maybe it was just Kyle who fascinated her. She hadn’t realized his incredible level of talent until tonight, seeing him compared to the rest of the players. He stood taller than all of them except his foster brother, his skills above and beyond the others on the ice.
“What’s happening now?” she asked the fans around her, seeing the hockey rink erupt with tension. Players circled the refs, shouting at them and one another.
“Your guys aren’t content with a hooking penalty,” a helpful older woman explained to her from the seat to the right.
Kyle pulled off his gloves and threw them on the ice. From her position a few rows above rink-side she could see his expression and his body language—flexing jaw, lowered eyebrows, tense body. His power and strength were undeniable even as she feared what would come next.
The crowd was going wild now—stomping and banging their seats. Cheering on…what? Anger?
She was totally unprepared when the first fist flew. Even more unprepared to comprehend that it was Kyle doing the swinging. He’d gone after the defenseman who’d whacked his stick on the shot attempt. In the blink of an eye, Kyle’s foster brother hit someone else, and soon it seemed as though the whole rink erupted in a brawl.
“Oh, no.” She sank to her seat, hands pressed to her mouth.
Kyle had his opponent’s jersey fisted in one hand while he used the other to hit. But since the defenseman outweighed him by about fifty pounds, the fight seemed bound to end badly for Kyle. Sure enough, a right-hand punch by the big man connected with Kyle’s face, sending his head back and sending Marissa right out of her seat.
“Excuse me.” Edging down the row past other fans’ knees and cardboard trays of beers, Marissa reached the aisle.
Eyes glued to the ice, she watched as the refs finally pulled the fighters apart. Thank God.
Except instead of sending Kyle to the E.R. or even the locker room to tend to his head, they sent him to a little plastic cage they called the penalty box. Apparently in this game, you went to time-out for bad behavior. Didn’t these refs have any idea what kind of damage a blow to the head could inflict? Thoughts of her mother’s ordeal made her all the more anxious to make sure Kyle was okay.
The pressure in her chest told her exactly how scared she was for him. She didn’t want to see him hurt. Didn’t want to lose him. In fact, just thinking about it made her heart beat faster, almost as if…
She loved him.
Winding her way through the stands toward the section of seats containing the penalty box, she accidentally stepped on a sticky patch of trampled cotton candy, not looking where she was going. Could she possibly care so deeply about a man she’d just met?
The squeeze of her heart told her, absolutely yes. Maybe she was drawn to bigger-than-life personalities in spite of herself, her quieter nature responding to the confidence and charm of someone like Kyle. But beneath that bold exterior, Kyle shared her values, donating time to charity and staying out of the spotlight. He believed in hard work and discipline, his lifestyle far closer to hers than her jet-setting mother’s.
“Can I help you, miss?” a grizzled usher asked her, his red shirt identifying him as staff.
He stood in front of a rope that closed off the step down to the seating section surrounding the penalty box.
“Can I get through here?” she asked, squinting to try to see Kyle, but he was hidden from view by fans for the home team shouting at him and knocking on the glass of the box where he sat.
An announcement about the penalties—one for each team—boomed over the P.A. system, drowning out the security guard’s answer.
“Excuse me?” She leaned closer to the man, wishing Kyle would turn around and see her ten rows up. She still felt shaky with the realization that she cared for him far more than she ever thought she could feel about someone in such a short space of time.
Maybe her emotions were just running high after the draining months of taking care of her mom. No wonder her feelings were so close to the surface.
“Sorry miss, these are reserved seats. Season ticket holders only.” He crossed his arms and resumed watching the action on the ice as play continued.
“But I’m Kyle’s—” She paused, unsure how to finish that sentence. Girlfriend? Temporary diversion? Decoy mistress for the sake of the gossipmongers of the world?
What could she possibly be to him in the big scheme of things?
Stymied, she didn’t know how to convince this sentry to let her pass.
“Marissa!” a feminine voice called to her over the din.
She didn’t have to look far to spot the source. Two rows down in the forbidden season ticket-holder zone, Stacy Goodwell stood and waved both arms. Decked out in a fan sweater and a blue miniskirt that matched the base color in the team jersey, Stacy sat beside the man Marissa had researched for her: graphics microchip guru Isaac Reynolds. She recognized him from his pictures. He steadied Stacy during the enthusiastic waving, keeping her from toppling into the next row down with a hand at her waist.
“Down here!” Stacy cried, grinning ear to ear as Marissa spotted her.
“My friend really needs me,” Marissa told the usher protecting the section, but he was already stepping aside for her, giving up the fight to keep Marissa out.
Or maybe the guy recognized Phil Goodwell’s daughter. Goodwell owned the arenas in both Philadelphia and Pittsburgh as well as nearly a dozen others around the country. And for her part, Stacy was highly recognizable, with her asymmetrically cut platinum hair and a face so beautiful she could have graced a magazine cover.
But as Marissa made her way down the stairs toward Stacy and—more important—the penalty box, a horn blew and signaled the game was over. Instantly, the aisles filled with fans going the other way.
“I’ll come to you!” Stacy called through the din, her hand waving over the top of the mob’s collective heads. “Just a sec.”
Marissa couldn’t have argued if she tried. She tucked into the end of one row to get out of the way of people streaming up the stairs.
“I wanted to see if Kyle is okay,” she explained to Stacy when she and her date reached the spot where Marissa stood. “He was in the penalty box.”
“Well, he’s out now!” Stacy hugged her, practically bubbling with a happiness that glowed. “We won!”
Had they? The score hardly registered with Marissa since she’d been so intent on seeing Kyle. Isaac moved toward them, sliding a protective arm around Stacy’s waist.
“Stacy can get you downstairs where the players will be,” Isaac informed her, his dark, serious gaze seeming to assess Marissa’s deeper concern. “I’m Isaac, by the way.”
“How rude of me,” Stacy exclaimed, frowning. But she was already leading the way through the crowd.
Following, Marissa introduced herself to the man who’d inspired Stacy to make a huge, wholesale change in her life.
“Marissa Collins. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She would have extended her hand, but they had to walk single file down a busy thoroughfare to keep up with Stacy’s blond head as she bobbed and weaved through the crowd.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Isaac told her, surprising her. “Although I hope Stacy won’t have a need for your services any longer.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that it took Marissa a moment to realize why. Isaac was staking claim to Stacy. She almost hadn’t believed the two of them could be right for each other when she’d researched him. He’d sounded like a bit of a techno-geek when she’d read about everything he’d accomplished at such a young age. He held an honorary degree from MIT even though he’d left his studies early to take his first product to market.
But maybe Stacy’s vibrant personality balanced his. Sometimes people sought partners with strengths they lacked. Isaac could help Stacy channel her talents and give her the direction and backbone she needed with her dad. Stacy would ensure the genius entrepreneur had a life outside his work.
“You know, a matchmaker can tell you how compatible you will be when you enter a new relationship,” she remarked, already seeing how they’d fit together in the future. It was a service few people used, kind of like couple’s counseling while you were still in the giddy stages of a new romance. She wanted to be certain this relationship would stick since Stacy deserved to be happy. “We can help you avoid common pitfalls and prepare you for—”
“We’ll call you to set something up. I’m sure that would be helpful.”
For a moment, Marissa forgot all about her need to get to Kyle. She was shocked that this man who’d only just met Stacy would agree so easily. If anything, women were generally more apt to agree to compatibility counseling. Men usually assumed they would conquer all obstacles as they arose. She halted in her steps to turn again and gauge his expression.
“Really?” She swayed forward as a woman with a crying toddler shoved past her to reach the exit. Would Kyle ever agree to something like that? Compatibility counseling by a more objective party?
She wondered if it would help them look beyond the things that kept them apart to the elements that could potentially hold them together.
“Stacy really respects your opinions.” Isaac was a handsome man in a more unassuming way than Kyle Murphy’s all-out good looks. There was something highly engaging about Isaac’s insightfulness, and his shrewd, knowing gaze was smart without being smug. “I would be grateful if you could warn her what to expect with someone like me. She’s happy now, but sometimes people tire of the very qualities that attract them in the first place.”
Marissa started forward again, darting around a vendor rolling a pretzel cart, not wanting to lose Stacy in this crowd. And she really did need to see Kyle with her own eyes to assure herself he was okay. But first, the matchmaker in her couldn’t resist finding out more about this intriguing relationship she had no part in crafting.
“You’re genuinely thinking about a long-term future together, aren’t you?” She didn’t mean to put him on the spot, but it was obvious from the way he spoke about Stacy.
“In a world full of cynics, Stacy remains sweet and warmhearted. Completely unaffected. And for some unknown reason, she really digs me.” He gave Marissa that quick flash of a grin again, but then he was looking up ahead, seeking out the woman who’d obviously captured his heart. “I know a stroke of good luck when I see it.”
While Marissa mulled that over, Isaac pointed toward the right.
“She went this way,” he informed her, making her realize she would have lost Stacy anyhow. “You have to get through security to reach the level with the locker rooms. But since Stacy’s dad owns the joint, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Thank you.” She hastened her step to catch up to Stacy, the crowd thinner here save for a few hard-core fans trying to convince the guards why they needed to be in the secured area.
It reminded Marissa of the groupies at her mother’s concerts trying to wheedle a VIP backstage pass. As much as she wanted her mother to recover, Marissa realized she didn’t miss the world that had come with touring. She’d personally played the secondary gatekeeper after the security guards for her mom—keeping lovesick fans out of the dressing room and telling pushy guys to take a hike.
Now that she thought about it, that’s why she’d first bought her fake wedding band. It had been her decoy even then, when she’d been sixteen and guarding the superstar from men who would flirt with her to try to get past her.
“Isn’t Isaac the greatest?” Stacy asked as Marissa reached her side.
They were waved through the doors while other fans bemoaned the unfairness of some people being allowed to enter and not others. Isaac stayed behind, telling Stacy he’d pick her up at the east gate whenever she was ready to leave.
“I like him,” Marissa asserted, confident the guy had Stacy’s best interests in mind. He wanted to make sure she was happy in the future. How thoughtful was that?