you should. Life’s too short to let it pass you by. Haven’t you ever wanted to find a nice woman, settle down and have some kids?” He remained noticeably silent, staring intently at the contents of his glass, prompting her to change the subject again. “Do you like basketball?”
“What?” He glanced up from his drink, baffled at sudden shift in direction.
“Basketball. Do you like it?” she repeated, smiling.
“You do that very well,” he said, intending to flatter, without answering her question.
“Tools of the trade.” She smiled.
“Stockbroker, right?” He was more comfortable talking about her.
“Correct.”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she enthused. “My day’s always different, always interesting—never a dull moment.”
“You thrive on change,” he stated, not asking. That was very apparent to anyone having the pleasure to meet her.
“And challenges,” she said and glanced at him pointedly. “I prefer more continuity in my personal life, though.”
His heart sank a little at her easy admission. That was one thing he could never give her. Absurdly, he wished he could.
“Most people do,” he shortly agreed.
“Do you?” She tilted her head, and her thick mane of hair fell to one side.
“As I said before, I don’t have much of a personal life,” he truthfully responded. “Work takes up most of my time.”
“That leads to a lonely existence, Nathan.”
“I suppose.” He sighed, eyes growing distant. He knew how true her words were—how true he feared they would always be for him.
“Are you?” She watched him closely.
“Am I what?” He refocused on her.
“Lonely?” She reached across and covered his hand with hers, which relaxed for a few seconds before he pulled away.
“I’m content.” He realized he was trying to convince himself rather than her.
“Evasive,” she murmured.
“You’re tenacious,” he countered, and she smiled.
“I told you I was,” she said and shrugged. “I won’t let you be lonely while you’re here, Nathan,” she softly promised.
“I’m sure you won’t,” he agreed with a smirk. “Marcy Johnson, I don’t quite know what to make of you.” He paused before grudgingly admitting as their food was placed before them. “You are something else.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She acknowledged the validity of his words. “You know what else I am?” She picked up her napkin and placed it on her lap.
“What?” He ventured to ask.
“I’m all yours. All you have to do is admit that you want me, reach out your hand and take me,” she bluntly responded when they were alone before picking up her fork and cutting into her buttery soft chicken.
His mouth dropped open in shock as he digested her stunning words, and he was unable to stop it. She had completely floored him with her unabashed forwardness and determination. She also excited, enthralled and enchanted him.
“You shouldn’t say things like that, Marcy.”
“Why not?”
“Because people will take advantage of you if you let them.”
“Is that what you plan to do?”
“No.”
She sighed regretfully. “That’s a shame.”
“Marcy Johnson, you are—” he paused before admitting “—unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Definitely good,” he said and smiled. “There’s nothing fake about you.”
“What you see is what you get, Nathan.”
What he saw, he wanted—badly. Dammit, why did he have to return home and run headlong into this fascinating, exciting woman who appeared to want nothing more than the chance to make him happy, and why did he want nothing more than the time to let her try?
“It’s fate,” she whispered, laughing softly at his shocked expression when she answered his silent question.
Chapter 2
Though he tried to prepare himself for his next meeting with Marcy, she still knocked every ounce of breath out of his lungs when their eyes locked at the rehearsal dinner for Natasha and Damien later that evening. She was dressed in a black knee-length leather skirt with a wicked slit up the back, matching tight-fitting jacket and high-heeled black leather pumps. All of that raven hair was piled high on top of her head in an intentionally careless bun, allowing tendrils to escape to caress her face and nape. She looked lovely and desirable.
“Hi, handsome,” her sultry voice greeted him as he entered the small ballroom of the restaurant.
“Marcy.” He nodded at her politely as he unsuccessfully tried to still the rapid beating of his heart.
“Did you miss me?” He looked wonderful in his black suit, white shirt and black-and-gray tie.
“It’s only been a few hours since I last saw you?” Time he had spent trying to unsuccessfully stop thinking about her—the look of her, the feel of her fingers on his, the exotic smell of her.
“I know.” She leaned close and whispered confidentially in his ear, “I missed you terribly.”
His knees almost buckled at her words and as the provocative scent she wore wafted up his nostrils and her soft body brushed lightly yet maddeningly against his. He fought with every ounce of strength he possessed to keep from crushing that curvaceous body to his and fastening his mouth to her luscious lips—lips he knew from experience were soft, decadent and addictive.
Unable to help himself, he groaned. “What is that perfume you’re wearing?”
She leaned slightly back to stare into his intense eyes. “Chanel.” She smiled and leaned in closer again. “Do you like it?”
“It’s...nice.”
“I’m glad you approve.” She deliberately ran her fingers across her exposed collarbone drawing his burning gaze there.
Who did he think he was fooling? Judging by his darkening eyes, watching the slow progression of her finger across her skin, he thought it was much more than nice. She secretly vowed to buy up every bottle she could get her hands on in the morning.
“Marcy, darling, bring Nathan over here,” her mother ordered.
“Coming, Mom.” She smiled up at him. “I’m afraid it’s time to mingle.”
She thankfully moved back from him but grabbed his hand, shooting tiny thrills of pleasure up his arm. This woman was deadlier than any adversary he had ever faced in the field of combat—and that was saying something.
“That’s what we’re here for.” He was proud his voice sounded steady.
“But there is later...” She let her sentence trail off suggestively.
They walked over to stand beside his sister Nicole, who was talking to the guests of honor, Damien and Natasha. Nathan’s parents, Linda and Lincoln, were conversing with Marcy’s mother and father, Margaret and Michael, a short distance away. Marcy’s smile widened as she glanced at their matchmaking mothers who seemed particularly interested in watching the interplay between