âWe canât be both friends and lovers, Kade!â Brodie protested.
âWe can be anything we damn well want,â Kade replied. âBut for now, why donât we try to be friends first, figure out how weâre going to be parents together without complicating it with sex?â
He confused and bedazzled her, Brodie admitted. She couldnât keep up with him. She felt like she was being maneuvered into a corner, pushed there by the force of his will. âI donât know! I need to think.â
Kade smiled, stepped back and placed his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts. âYou can think all you want, Brodie, but it isnât going to change a damn thing. Iâm going to be around whether you like it or not.â He ducked his head and dropped a kiss on her temple.
âYou might as well get used to it,â he murmured into her ear.
***
Pregnant by the Maverick Millionaire is part of the series From Mavericks to Marriedâ Three superfine hockey players finally meet their matches!
JOSS WOODâS passion for putting black letters on a white screen is matched only by her love of books and travelling (especially to the wild places of southern Africa) and, possibly, by her hatred of ironing and making school lunches.
Joss has written over sixteen books for the Mills & Boon KISS, Mills & Boon Presents and, most recently, Mills & Boon Desire lines.
After a career in business lobbying and local economic development, Joss now writes full-time. She lives in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, with her husband and two teenage children, surrounded by family, friends, animals and a ridiculous amount of books.
Joss is a member of the RWA (Romance Writers of America) and ROSA (Romance Writers of South Africa).
One
Funny.
Built.
Sexy.
Smart. So, so, smart.
Courteous, hot, confident.
He was the entire package, a gorgeous combination of everything any woman would ever want or need for a flash-in-the-pan encounter. That being said, Brodie Stewart knew there were at least a billion women in the world who would slap her senseless for what she was about to do and she didnât blame them.
âBrodie? Did you hear me? I asked if you want to come upstairs,â Kade whispered into her ear, his hand on her rib cage, his thumb rubbing the underside of her right breast.
She licked her lips and tasted him on her tongue, inhaled the citrus and spice of his soap-scented skin and tipped her head sideways to allow his lips to explore the cords of her neck. Man, he was good at this, Brodie thought.
She should step away, she should stop this...
Sheâd been saying the same thing for three weeks. She shouldnât have waited for Kade every early morning on the running trail, shouldnât have felt the butterflies in her stomach when he loped toward her, a six-foot-plus slab of celebrity muscle. She shouldnât have laughed at his jokes, responded to his gentle flirting. And she certainly shouldnât have accepted his offer to return to his place for a lazy cup of Saturday morning coffee/sex after their seven-mile loop around Stanley Park.
As much as she wanted to know what that cocky, mobile mouth could do, she definitely should not have kissed him.
Sheâd thought she had it all worked out, had convinced herself she could handle this, him. It wasnât like she hadnât had sex since Jay. There had been a few guysâokay, twoâsince the accident a decade ago. On paper, Kade was perfect. The ex-professional ice hockey player, now second in charge of the Vancouver Mavericks, was resolutely single. Proudly unavailable and, unlike most females of a certain age, Brodie had no desire to change him. In fact, one of the reasons sheâd said yes to his offer for coffee was because she knew exactly what he wanted and it wasnât a happily-ever-after with her.
Okay, it had been a while and she was out of practice, but why, oh, dear Lord why, couldnât she get past her hang-ups and have a quick tumble with the gorgeous, very practiced Kade Webb?
Maybe it was because something about him resonated with her, because he was more than a pretty package. Because his kisses were deep and compelling and made her quiver with more than a quick physical connection. He reminded her of love, of intimacy, of emotional connections.
She really didnât want the reminder.
Brodie peeled herself off Kadeâs wide chest and dropped a quick so-sorry kiss on his chin, her lips brushing the golden stubble on his jaw. She rolled off the leather couch, stood up and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling folding doors leading to an expansive balcony. Brodie placed her hand on the cool glass. From this penthouse loft downtown he had the most amazing view of False Creek and the Granville and Burrard bridges. It was a big-bucks view and absolutely fabulous. She took it in...and gave herself time to form a response to his question.
Reluctantly Brodie turned and placed her hands behind her butt, leaning against the glass. Her heart and libido wanted to return to his embrace, trace those long, hard muscles, taste his naturally olive-shaded skin, shove her hands into his loose, surfer-boy blond hair, watch those brown eyes deepen to black as passion swept him away. But her brain was firmly in charge and it was telling her to run, as far and as fast as she could, before she found herself in a situation that was out of her control.