took shape immediately, an ideal solution for them both. “You’re good at that kind of thing after managing Brandy’s career for so long. You’ll have your supplemental income and I’ll have my life back to normal.”
“I can’t sleep with someone I’m working for,” she chided him as if it was the most elementary of facts. “Besides, you don’t need a handler for the matchmakers. You just need to show the world you’re …”
She hesitated.
“In a relationship?” he supplied.
“That would help,” she acknowledged quietly, her forehead wrinkled in thought. “But I couldn’t possibly go on the road with you now. Maybe you should find someone else.”
She couldn’t be serious. Not after what had happened between them today. He clamped his hands on her hips and squeezed her closer.
“You owe me a favor for bringing this down on my head, right?” That wasn’t totally true because it wasn’t her fault her client had requested him in the first place. “And I want you to pay me back by helping me get rid of the matchmakers. I’d like to hire you as a professional consultant.”
“I can’t take money for spending time with you.” she asserted, wriggling away from him. “That’s an insane suggestion.”
“I’m a celebrity athlete. It comes with the territory.”
“Kyle, don’t put me in this position.” Her practical, I-know-best voice almost shamed him into forgetting about the whole thing.
Until he remembered that one false move during play-off season could cost his team a spot in the championships. With serious injuries a perennial threat, who knew how much of a career he had left to hold the Stanley Cup over his head? Even if he remained healthy, he might not ever play with a team that was a lock for clinching their division—a surefire entry into the play-offs.
“I didn’t put us in this position. Your client did. Now, I need your help and it’s worth a whole hell of a lot to me.” He couldn’t let her say no. “Consider your mother’s experimental drug already purchased. Just, please, don’t throw me to the professional matchmaking wolves when I’m this close to achieving the pinnacle of my sport.”
For a long moment, she said nothing. And she looked as if she might toss him out on his ear at any moment.
“Besides—” he pressed his case “—I’m trying to develop a youth hockey camp for underprivileged kids. I don’t want that announcement to be tainted with interest in my bachelor eligibility and stupid questions about my dating preferences. I want to nip this thing in the bud and make it go away.”
Finally, Marissa released a pent-up breath. “The camp is a great idea. Maybe we can be seen together in a public venue and send the matchmakers home before this thing goes any further.”
“Thank you.” He pulled her to his chest to squeeze her.
The relief that coursed through him was about more than preempting the inevitable media attention with a public date. He realized he was also just glad as hell to know they’d be together again. When had a woman ever affected him like that?
“But I don’t think it’s fair to accept money for my mother’s treatment from you when you’re only asking me to state the truth about … being with you.”
He noticed the careful way she didn’t acknowledge that they were a couple.
“You’re doing more than stating it. You’re giving up valuable time with your mom to be with me in high visibility places.”
“Still—”
“Think of it as a gift if you want.” The need to help her went deeper than any attraction. “With the kind of money pro athletes make, we practically have a social obligation to do some good with it. Let me help your mom.”
“Thank you.” She blinked up at him, her gratitude apparent in her eyes. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“My pleasure.” He kissed her cheek, wishing he’d done more to earn that kind of thanks. She was a sweet, selfless person, taking care of her mom. All he was doing was writing a check. But her dedication made him all the more determined to do more than win a Stanley Cup. He’d contribute something good to society through that hockey camp.
“I’ll have to make some arrangements for my mother before I can go. One of her nurses should be able to take an extra shift.”
“That’s fine. The team flight leaves at seven. I’ll see if I can find you a flight that leaves a little later than that.” Checking his watch, he realized he’d need to floor it to get home and pack some things before he went to the airport.
She nodded. “Any ideas where we can go tonight to be seen? Or would you like me to do some research on that?”
“I wouldn’t have any idea where to begin.”
“My mom has had concerts in Pittsburgh before. I’ll check my notes to see where we ate or if she went to any media events there.”
“Great.” He found it hard to walk out the door. “But I have to admit, I’m looking forward to what comes after our date.”
“You think you’ll get lucky twice in one day?” She looked skeptical but he could see the hint of a smile lurking.
He leaned in for one more kiss, needing a taste of her.
“I’m a very lucky guy.”
AS A MATCHMAKER, Marissa would have never chosen herself as a candidate match for a superstar athlete.
But maybe she wasn’t such a bad choice, after all. She’d chosen to meet Kyle in a popular Pittsburgh nightclub where a local radio station was broadcasting live. As she sat alone at the bar, she admitted to herself that she would never make much of a trophy wife with her average looks and habit of shunning the spotlight. Yet she was skilled at calling in the media, something she’d done often when her mom had wanted to spread the word about an appearance or a new project. It had been simple to round up some well-placed reporters with the promise of a scoop on hockey sensation Kyle Murphy.
Drumming her fingernails on the clear Lucite bar in a club coated with neon signs and pink spotlights, Marissa ordered a ginger ale and waited for Kyle to put in his appearance. She’d only been in Pittsburgh for about an hour. She’d checked into a hotel near where the team was staying and then changed into a more traditional “date night” outfit. As much as she liked her vintage clothes and retro glasses, she didn’t want to attract attention to herself with anything too quirky.
Besides, Kyle deserved to be photographed with someone marginally attractive, and Marissa had the costume skills necessary to foster that illusion. Her mother had given her a lifetime’s worth of advice about making the most of her dark hair and high cheekbones, as if correctly applied blush could detract from the fact that she had a flat chest and a face that was too square. But tonight wasn’t about her.
Kyle had left a blank check for her before he left Philly and she’d simply written it to the drug company for the one-month supply the doctor had recommended. The treatment would begin three days from now, assuming the postal service could hold up its end of the deal.
She’d have to find a way to pay Kyle back at a later date. For now, she could only help him out to the best of her ability.
Where was Kyle?
Paying for her ginger ale, Marissa rose from her seat at the bar to wander the perimeter and look for him. Dance music pulsed through the floor and vibrated her toes, reminding her how long it had been since she’d had a night out. Sure, she’d attended plenty of social functions as part of her matchmaking responsibilities or in helping her mother manage her