was incentive enough to let your wings get clipped.
“He should be very intelligent,” Heather said.
On the sidelines, the second blonde nodded her agreement. “And smart, too.”
Nick coughed to cover his laughter.
Maggie glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed in warning. He winked at her and she blushed, turning right back around. But the image of her was already burned in his mind. Hair pulled off her flawless face in a bun style, full, pale-pink lips and large, bright eyes in the exact shade of a Montana sky first thing in the morning.
He remembered that sky well. A few years back, he’d been traveling to Iowa for a job and he’d stopped his motorcycle on the side of the road and stared at it for a good hour. Prettiest sight he’d ever seen.
“And of course, he’s got to know how to dress,” Heather continued.
Nick stifled a groan. This was ridiculous. This wasn’t how two people got together. Videotapes and a grocery list of attributes. Chemistry was chemistry. Man and woman. Heat and passion and sparks—there was no getting around that. And no way to tell whether you had it until you were face-to-face, not video screen to wishful thinker. But, hey, it wasn’t any of his business. He just wanted those keys and a couple of good nights’ rest.
“And I like to read,” Heather said. “So it would be great if he could read, too.”
It felt as though a week had gone by when Maggie finally thanked the Baywatch twins and walked them to the door.
But she wasted no time in rushing back into the video room and scolding him. “Well?” she demanded, looking like a grenade whose pin had been pulled.
“Well, what?” he asked as he removed the videotape from the camera and handed it to her. “What did I do?”
“You were laughing at my clients.”
“I didn’t laugh at them,” he said, curbing a chuckle. “Now, can we talk keys?”
She ignored his request completely. “Oh, please. Do you really expect me to believe that coughing spasm was some preliminary sign of bronchitis?”
“Listen, sweetheart, I thought that their requirements for the perfect guy were anything but funny.” He put the camera back in its case and zipped it up. “That woman had a list. Like she was going shopping.”
“We all have things we want in another person, Mr. Kaplan. The list may be in your head, but it’s still there.”
“I don’t have a list,” he said. “Just one simple requirement.”
She smiled smugly. “Oh, and what’s that? That she drive a motorcycle and wear combat boots?”
“That’s two things, Maggie,” he retorted with a grin.
“You’ll change your mind someday. Chance meetings are more difficult in today’s world.” She shrugged. “No one wants to be single forever.”
“As far as I’m concerned, forever doesn’t sound long enough.”
Maggie felt weary, as if she was about to hike a hill she’d been up a thousand times. Bachelors, playboys and bad-ass bikers. They all wanted freedom. They had no idea that being loved by the right woman beat that idea all to hell. But how in the world was she going to convince a townful of guys that true love awaited them if she couldn’t even convince one?
“I have a great idea,” he said. “Let’s discuss it at home tonight.”
“Mine or yours?”
“Ours.”
She sighed. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”
“When I want something, Maggie, I’ll go to great lengths to get it.” He stood before her, all six feet three inches of him, the scents of leather and virility oozing from him. “But when I need something, I’ll do just about anything.”
She shivered at his tone, and her pulse danced a samba at the way his gaze moved over her face.
Go after what you want. It was certainly something they had in common. She wanted people to find love and would go to extraordinary lengths to help them. But Maggie needed her business to be a success and would almost sell her soul to achieve it.
As she tossed the videotape from one hand to the other, an idea began to take form in her mind. Her first two campaigns to attract men to Maggie’s Matches hadn’t yielded one eligible guy. So she knew free sign-ups and comped first-date expenses weren’t going to have them lining up out the door. What she needed was a success story.
It was crazy, she knew. But she really did need the rent money—her store’s light bill alone was Pike’s-Peak steep—and it would be an unbeatable way to advertise to the male public while converting a nonbeliever. It would also give that nonbeliever what he needed most.
Excitement bubbled like soda fizz in Maggie’s stomach as she imagined the slogan:
Even A Skeptic Can See The Light. Let Maggie’s Matches Guide You On Your Way To Love.
She turned to Nick, a new confidence building inside her. “What if my matchmaking skills worked for you, Nick?”
His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“What if I found you the love of your life?”
He snorted. “Impossible.”
Oh, she loved that word. “You’re really not all that confident, are you?”
“Maggie, save it for all those lonely schmucks who want your help.”
She grabbed his arm. “No one can resist the power of love, Nick.”
He looked down at her hand on his arm, then at her, his eyes dark and mysterious as a forest at twilight. “I can resist anything.”
Pure muscle, pure strength. And heat. She felt it beneath her touch. It was too much.
Maggie lifted her hand from his arm. “Are you willing to give your heart a little test in exchange for a six-month stay at Casa Conner?”
His brows drew together in a frown. “You lost me.”
“Give me four weeks to find you the love of your life,” she said as she pulled a set of keys from her pocket, “and I’ll give you these.”
Two
Nick felt suspended, as if he’d just taken his Harley over one of the roller-coaster hills in Colorado and was hovering a few inches off the blacktop, his gut tight as he waited to hit the ground. He stared at Maggie. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s simple. I’ll rent you the room at my house—” she looked up at him, hopeful “—and in exchange you’re going to let me find you a woman.”
He leaned in closer, breathing in her soft,
