Seducing The Matchmaker. Joanne Rock

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      NO MATTER THAT MARISSA had always worked hard to take herself out of the equation when it came to arranging dates, she had been sucked in by Kyle Murphy with just one look.

      What had happened back there?

      Chugging her cola as if it were some magic elixir that could bring her back to sanity, she felt as though she was shaking from the aftershocks of a cataclysmic event. No wait, that was her phone vibrating away in her purse. She ducked into a corner of the room to check her messages, telling herself all the while to forget her strange reaction to the hockey star. She was a healthy, red-blooded female with little to no love life to speak of. Was it any wonder she occasionally got tripped up by the sight of an appealing man?

      Although tripped up wasn’t exactly accurate. More like knocked stupid by a two by four to the head.

      Cursing herself and hormones that only got in the way of her job, she yanked her phone free from her purse and saw a terse text:

      Where R U?

      Did no one bother with hello anymore, let alone identifying themselves? She squinted in the dark to read the numbers on the display. A local call.

      The buzzing sounded again, along with a new message.

      Have U found him?

      It had to be Stacy, the client who wanted desperately to meet Kyle. Frustration heated through her while the dance floor erupted with cheers at the opening strains of “Cotton Eyed Joe.”

      Plunking out a response on tiny keys, she reminded Stacy that she would be in touch with news next week. In the meantime, another text came through.

      Am by autograph tables. I don’t C him!!

      Marissa stopped in the middle of typing to peer around the room. And, crap, there was Stacy’s asymmetrical platinum-blond bob, a standout in any crowd. The bright, shiny hair topped off a silver metallic dress and neon-blue vinyl heels.

      Stacy was bending low over a table to have a giveaway hat signed by a player Marissa didn’t recognize. Her posture brought to mind Marissa’s conversation with Kyle. His comment about being offered strangers’ breasts. Damn it, why couldn’t Stacy have stayed home and waited for her introduction so Marissa could have coached her on making a positive impression? She hated the little voice in her head reminding her Kyle had flirted with her, so she must have made a good impression. The last thing she needed were personal feelings getting mixed up in a must-do business deal.

      Pocketing the phone, Marissa marched toward the client who was determined to give her ulcers.

      “Stacy.” She reached the other woman’s side and tugged her away from a hulking Czech player whose face was stitched up like a football. “Will you excuse us?”

      “Marissa!” Stacy hugged her, an oversize cocktail ring catching Marissa’s hair while the woman’s silver sequins snagged on the silk shawl Marissa wore. “Have you found him? Does he want to meet me?”

      Stacy looked flustered. Embarrassed at having been caught chatting up another player when she was trying to arrange a date with Kyle Murphy? Marissa couldn’t tell. But when Stacy yanked back, she dragged half the evening wrap with her while Marissa tried to pluck the delicate fabric free without tearing it.

      “Hang on,” she warned, knowing Stacy’s uncanny ability to wreak havoc wherever she went. Oddly, her tendency toward clumsiness was part of her charm since it softened a personality that seemed—at first glance—a touch abrasive.

      Twenty-four-year-old Stacy Goodwell was noisy, effusive, careless and utterly good-hearted. A writer for the Living section of the local paper, she spoke first and thought later, which was half the reason she needed a matchmaker. The other reason was that, while she was both rich and drop-dead gorgeous, she could be naive when it came to men. She tended to fall in love indiscriminately with guys who didn’t have her best interests at heart.

      She was a beautiful, lovable mess, and Marissa felt for her because her father was a pompous, overbearing gazillionaire who tried his best to run Stacy’s life. He cared more about seeing her paired off with someone well-connected than someone who loved her. Sweet-natured Stacy hadn’t quite figured out how to tell her father to stay out of her life, but for now she and her father agreed Kyle Murphy would be a great choice.

      Mr. Goodwell was keen on Kyle because he was a wealthy, famous athlete and Goodwell liked to hobnob with that sort of person. Stacy had agreed, Marissa supposed, because Kyle was gorgeous and had a reputation for being charming—something Marissa had seen firsthand.

      “Look at me!” Stacy laughed and her throaty humor drew stares from all the men within a ten-yard radius. “I’m here for five minutes and I’m already wrecking things.”

      Marissa freed herself with only a little damage done to the wrap. Frazzled and still reeling from her encounter with Kyle, she tucked her arm around Stacy’s waist and drew her toward the ladies’ room.

      “You’re fine. But can we talk somewhere?” She peered around the room and her eyes connected with Kyle’s as if drawn by magnetic force.

      Holy heat wave. The momentary connection was so sultry it curled her hair.

      She didn’t know who whipped their head away faster—her or him. Apparently, he was as determined as her to write off their little moment of sexual chemistry insanity. She needed to reroute his eyes toward Stacy, pronto.

      “Of course,” her client agreed, teetering carefully on her sky-high blue stiletto heels. “I finished my feature piece on the season’s new hemlines early tonight, so my father encouraged me to be here in case you were ready to make an introduction—”

      “No.” Marissa shook her head to emphasize the point. Stopping at an empty table shoved against one wall, she pulled a chair over for Stacy. “I know you’re anxious for this, but good relationships aren’t something you race into. I need time to screen him—”

      “That’s okay.” Stacy’s blue eyes were as wide and earnest as a Japanese anime character. “He has a good reputation in the league, so the screening doesn’t matter.”

      “It does.” In fact, Marissa had spoken with Stacy’s father about this point, since he was footing the bill for the matchmaking even though Stacy had wanted to go it alone. “I can gather information that will help make a date successful, okay?”

      Assuming Marissa could get her head out of fantasy land and stop seeing Kyle through the fog of attraction that had struck her speechless earlier.

      “Marissa.” Stacy peered around and then leaned close to speak more softly. “I really need this date. My dad is putting on the pressure about СКАЧАТЬ