really didn’t want the reminder.
Brodie peeled herself off Kade’s 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.
God, he was going to think she was a tease, that she was playing him. She wasn’t, not really. She was just protecting herself.
Emotionally. Psychically. In all the ways she could.
Brodie felt his eyes on her but stared down at her sneakers, wishing she was wearing more than a tight hoodie and running tights. She knew he was waiting for an explanation for her blowing hot and cold, for kissing him senseless and then backing away. She couldn’t tell him—this man she’d jogged with, who knew nothing more about her than her name and that she liked to run—that even though she was crazy horny, the idea of sex, with him, reminded her of intimacy and intimacy scared the skin off her.
He was supposed to be a fun time, a quick thing but, dammit, Kade Webb had stirred up emotions she thought were long dead. Of all the men in Vancouver, why him? He was such a cliché—handsome, wealthy, charming, successful. In Jane Austen’s world he would’ve been called a rake and three hundred years later the moniker still suited him well.
Brodie sighed, wishing she’d played this differently. Everyone knew what a fitness fanatic he was, how fast he ran, and it was common knowledge that he ran most mornings in Stanley Park. She’d wanted to see if she could, in any way, keep up with him. Instead of keeping pace with him at the crack of dawn, she should’ve hung back and kept her distance. At first he’d been amused with her idea that she could match his long-legged stride, but she’d run track in college. She had speed and stamina on her side. When he realized he couldn’t shake her he started bantering with her. Many runs and many conversations led to this morning’s invitation for coffee/sex.
She’d enjoyed those random conversations so much she’d frequently forgotten she was jogging with the city’s most elusive bachelor. To her, he was just a guy with a wicked sense of humor, a sharp brain and, admittedly, a very sexy body. Running alongside him had certainly not been a hardship. She’d actually taken pleasure in his appreciation of her.
So much so that she’d thought she was strong enough, brave enough, to have a casual encounter on a Saturday morning as any other confident, sophisticated, modern woman would. Yeah. Right.
“You’ve changed your mind, haven’t you?” His voice was as rich as the sunbeams dancing across the wooden floor. Her eyes flew up to meet his and, to her relief, she didn’t see any anger in his expression, just regret.
“I’m so sorry. I thought I could.” Brodie lifted her hands in an I-don’t-know-what-happened gesture.
“Was it me? Did I do something you didn’t like?”
Aw...
Brodie blushed. “No, you’re fabulous. God, you must know you kiss really well and I’m sure...” Her blush deepened. “I’m sure you do everything well.”
Kade pushed himself into a sitting position on the couch and placed his ankle on his knee. He leaned back and the muscles in his big arms flexed as he linked his hands behind his head, his expensive running shirt pulling tight across his broad chest. She could see the ridges of his stomach and knew the fabric covered a perfect six-pack of sexy-as-sin muscles.
Stop thinking about his body, his stomach, about those hard thighs...
“Maybe you’d feel more at ease if I tell you you’re in control here. You say no—to anything, at any point—and I’ll back off,” Kade quietly stated.
This was a prime example of why she was attracted to him. Beyond the charm, beneath the sexy face and the scorching body, was the man she suspected the public never saw; someone who was thoughtful enough to put her at ease. Someone who could quiet her fears, who could make her consider casting off a protective layer or two.
Thoughtful Kade reminded her of Jay, which reminded her of the person she’d been before her life had been turned inside out. The open, happy, sunny girl who’d loved life with a vengeance. A young woman who had the world at her feet.
That was what scared her most about being with him. He made her remember who she’d been before she wasn’t that person anymore.
Sex she could handle, but she was terrified of feeling good, contented. She couldn’t deal with happiness.
Not when she knew how quickly it could be ripped away.
Brodie bit her lip and lifted her hands in the air. She saw a hint of frustration pass across Kade’s face.
“Okay, then I really don’t understand. You seemed to be as into me as I am into you.”
Brodie scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, I’m a mess. It’s difficult to explain but trust me when I tell you it’s all me and not you.”
Kade nodded. “Oh, I know it’s all you ’cause if I had anything to do with it then you’d be naked and panting right now.”
Well, there wasn’t a hell of a lot to say to that. She should just go. “This was a very bad decision on my part.” Brodie moved away from the window and clasped her hands behind her back. “I’m really sorry to blow hot and cold.”
Kade stood up and raked his fingers through his hair. “No worries. It’s not the end of the world.”
She was sure it wasn’t, not for him. He’d had a variety of woman hanging off his arm since he was eighteen years old and new to the Mavericks. In sixteen years, that was a lot of women and a lot of hanging. With one call, one text message, he could have Brodie’s replacement here in ten minutes.
So, there was an upside to this stupid scenario; she would never be one of “Webb’s Women.”
As she walked toward the door, Kade’s phone buzzed and he picked it up off the coffee table. He swiped the screen with his thumb and frowned as he read the text message.
“Quinn and Mac are on their way up,” he said.
Quinn Rayne and Mac McCaskill, Kade’s best friends, his ex-teammates and current business partners. Yeah, she wasn’t proud to admit that, like every other obsessed Mavericks fan, she read about their exploits in the papers and online. The women, although Kade wasn’t quite as much a player as Quinn and Mac, the crazy stunts—mostly Quinn—the scandals... Quinn again. Actually, these days, it was mostly Quinn who gave the press grist for the mill.
Brodie glanced at her wristwatch. It was 7:36 a.m. on a Saturday morning. “So early?”
“Yeah,
