“Nice ring,” he commented and threw it back at her. “Except it’s fake.”
“As fake as the fiancés I invent every week so I have a good excuse not to date,” Brodie replied.
“Ah.” Kade bent over to tie his laces and turned his head to look at her. “You’ve never been tempted?”
Brodie took a moment to consider his question. She was surprised when Kade’s eyes narrowed. With jealousy? Not possible.
“My clients are successful, frequently really nice, quite rich men. They drive expensive cars, have gorgeous homes and are intelligent. All very eligible.”
Kade scowled.
“But they are also men who are looking to settle down and I am not.” Brodie placed her ring back in the shallow bowl holding the jewelry she most often wore. “Besides, becoming involved with a client, in any way, is very unprofessional.”
“Good thing I’m not your client, nor will I ever be.” Kade sat up and reached for the two sides of his shirt. “I’d rather shoot myself than allow a matchmaker, you or anyone else, to set me up.”
Brodie silently admitted she’d rather walk on molten lava than have him as a client.
Kade cocked his head. “So why don’t you date?”
Brodie flushed. “Because there are two types of dating. People either date for sex or date for a relationship. I don’t do relationships, as a rule. And I very rarely do—” she waved her hand at her bed “—this. I’m as virulently anticommitment as you think you are.”
“As I think I am?”
Brodie shrugged. She’d seen him with his friends, seen how much he enjoyed his connection with them. He’d be a great husband, a stunning father—if he ever moved out of his party-hearty lifestyle.
Kade held her eyes for a long moment before making a production of looking at his watch. He sent her a crooked grin. “I’m only in it for the hot sex, thanks.”
Brodie smiled back. “Then don’t win the bid on my auction.”
Kade reached into his bag for his bow tie and draped it around his neck, quickly tying it without the use of a mirror. “I very definitely won’t,” he promised her. “I’ve got to move or else Wren will have my head.”
“Have fun.”
Kade picked up his bag and jacket and walked over to her. He dropped a kiss on her temple, then her mouth. “I’d much rather be having fun with you.”
Brodie made herself smile. She was pretty sure he said that to all the girls. “’Bye. See you.”
“See you,” Kade said, walking out of her bedroom. Within seconds she heard her front door open and close and two minutes later, heard the roar of his sports car.
So that was that. She’d had the fantastic sex she’d been craving. But she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed talking to Kade, how easily they slid into intimate conversation. It was as if there were no barriers and it felt way more intimate than post-sex conversation should be. So why on earth was she craving more?
Four
Kade reached for his glass and took a long sip of whiskey. How much longer could this damn ball last?
It was eleven now. If Quinn would move the auction along, Kade could be out of here by midnight. Was it too late to phone Brodie? Was she exhausted? Would he come across as desperate if he called her again so soon? If she was in bed, what was she wearing? A slinky negligee or a tank top and boxer shorts or just her golden skin?
He loved her skin. He loved everything about her body and when he’d held her earlier he’d felt... How had he felt?
Kade cursed the action in his pants. He needed more than a whiskey on ice, he needed a plunge into an ice-fishing hole. At this rate, when he got Brodie where he wanted her—under him—he’d last about two seconds. His reaction to her was ridiculous, insane... There had to be some sort of scientific explanation for why they wanted to rip each other’s clothes off at the drop of a hat. Shouldn’t the amazing sex they’d shared earlier have taken the edge off? Was it pheromones? Biological instinct? But why her and not one of the many, many good-looking women—many of them Mavericks groupies—scattered throughout the ballroom? None of this made sense.
All he was certain of was that he wanted Brodie again. Urgently. Immediately. Tonight.
Move the hell on, Rayne!
“And now, one of our more interesting donations,” Quinn announced. Kade turned his attention back to the stage. “Ms. Brodie Stewart, one of the city’s best matchmakers, is offering the opportunity to bid on her matchmaking services. So if you are a guy and are looking for a good woman, Brodie can find one for you.” Quinn looked at the Mavericks who occupied the back tables and nodded. “I know one or two, or ten, of my men who should bid.”