How could I have lost out on three men? “I’m down to just the civil rights lawyer. Kimberly, you have to win him.” He was an excellent candidate. Sure, I hadn’t felt enthusiastic when I’d seen him onstage, but that was only because the firefighter had me so fired up. Speaking of whom, he’d been up after the doctor…
And there was Quinn O’Malley, strolling across the stage with his distinctive brand of male confidence and grace.
“I wonder what the woman who wins him will make him do?” Amarjeet asked with a wicked, slightly drunken grin.
“Put out her fire?” Kimberly joked, her voice too loud again. Three drinks were obviously too much for us when all we’d eaten were a few tiny appies.
The firefighter had left his ax behind and stood easily, legs slightly apart, hands clasped behind his back. The posture emphasized his muscular chest and shoulders. Easy to imagine him hefting a woman in his arms, toting her out of a burning building and down one of those long, swaying ladders. Placing her on the ground, breathing air into her parched lungs as his sexy lips caressed hers. As, under his deft touch, her body came to life. To aroused, passionate life.
He glanced around the audience, a half smile on his lips, seeming unworried about who would win him and what she’d ask him to do. Vaguely, I was aware of women bidding, of Amarjeet whispering to Kimberly, but the man onstage was so fantasy-worthy that I barely noticed until a new voice joined the bidding. A voice I recognized.
I dragged my eyes off Quinn O’Malley to glare at Kimberly. “What are you doing?”
Amarjeet said, “You only had one man left on your list, and he’s near the end. Women will be getting desperate, bids will be higher. You might not get that lawyer.”
“But I don’t want this guy.” I stared back at the stage. Quinn O’Malley was watching us. Our gazes connected and I felt a zap of energy—sexual energy.
Kimberly giggled. “That’s not what your body language says. You’re leaning forward like you want to leap out of your seat and jump him.”
Quickly, I sat back, breaking that compelling eye connection, and tried to regain my sanity. “My body language is irrelevant.”
“He’s a hero. And he’s hot,” Amarjeet said as Kimberly placed another bid.
“For sure! But I want someone more conventional. White-collar job, good-looking but not so—”
“Freaking gorgeous?” Kimberly put in.
“Exactly.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” She waved her hand in the air.
A moment later, the emcee’s gavel fell and Kimberly said triumphantly, “Because this is the guy you’re getting.”
4
From: Jade Rousseau [[email protected]]
To: ‘Amarjeet Nagra’; ‘Kimberly Brock’
Subject: Write-off: Amarjeet’s new coworker, Sebastian
A compulsive exaggerator! (I’m being polite—really thinking LIAR <g>) Said he was a gourmet chef. I don’t care if a guy can cook, but if he says he can do something, he should be able to. He made a fancy French meal, said he added his “personal touches.” All I can say is, BARF!! (Yeah, literally. I’ll spare you the disgusting details.)
Frog detector rule: No dates with liars or exaggerators! And I’m going back to the original plan: only coffees or lunches, no dinners.
I could have stayed pissed off at my friends for conspiring to buy me the firefighter, but it was done. They’d been operating under the influence of too many Raining Mens. Quinn O’Malley was so not what I needed, but it wasn’t like I could exchange him for a more suitable model, so I’d make the best of the situation.
How bad could it be, playing lovey-dovey with one of the hottest men I’d ever seen?
Kimberly had told him she’d bought him for a friend and got his phone number. When I called, he’d sounded intrigued and asked what “services” I’d like him to provide. Wanting to tell him face-to-face, not in public where someone might overhear, I’d invited him to my place.
Pacing my Kitsilano condo, I resisted the urge to change clothes. Cotton pants and a T-shirt were perfect. Fancier might suggest a come-on, and work clothes were too stuffy. I left my hair loose, in a tumble of black waves that rippled past my shoulders.
After I buzzed him into the building, my heart raced as I waited for his knock on my door. I told myself it was only because this faux fiancé thing was so important to my career.
But then I opened the door and knew I’d been rationalizing. Quinn was dressed in jeans and a blue T-shirt that showcased his great body. His short black hair gleamed damply, his dark eyes twinkled, and he gave off testosterone, pheromones, and pure wicked sex appeal.
He grinned and that dimple winked. “It is you.”
My heart was thumping in response to all that hot masculinity. “What do you mean?”
“When Kimberly said she bought me for a friend, I figured it was one of the two she’d come with.”
“You noticed us?” I’d been right about our gazes connecting.
“Hard to miss the three of you. Especially you.” He made a leisurely and utterly blatant appraisal that started with my face, moved down my body, heating every inch, then returned. “Oh yeah, I noticed you, Jade. I hoped you’d be the one.”
“You’re not here because I need flattery.” My voice didn’t come out as businesslike as I’d intended. His appraisal made me feel tingly, sensual, utterly feminine, and incredibly horny. Why didn’t any of the men I dated make me feel like this?
“Why am I here? Now that you’ve got me, what do you want?” His voice was husky, curious, with an undertone of teasing innuendo.
You. Naked. Right here, right now. My body blushed all over, and I doubted my skin was dark enough to hide it. Disconcerted, I stepped back from the magnetic field he wielded. “Come in and we’ll discuss it.”
He kicked off his sandals and walked past me. With his left hand, he held out a bag from a wine shop. “Didn’t know what you had in mind, but wine’s usually a good thing.”
I had to step closer again to take it. When I did, he put out his right hand. “Hi, Jade Rousseau. I’m Quinn O’Malley.”
Trying to keep my own hand from trembling, I gripped his. Heat. A jolt of energy that weakened my knees and made my already racing pulse kick into overdrive. Honestly, a girl should be able to go without intercourse for six months without turning into a sex maniac.
I pulled my hand away and fussed with the wine bag, extracting a chilled Pinot Grigio. “Looks great. Should I open it?”
“Whatever you want.”
“I don’t drink on an empty stomach, and I haven’t had much to eat today.” My tummy had been sensitive after Sebastian’s dinner and last night’s close encounter
