Making Him Sweat & Taking Him Down. Meg Maguire
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Название: Making Him Sweat & Taking Him Down

Автор: Meg Maguire

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Короткие любовные романы

Серия: Mills & Boon M&B

isbn: 9781474033213

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ wicked smile answered her, and something flared between them, something hot and mutual, tangible as the heat rising from the stove. “Is that your idea of a seduction?”

      She shook her head.

      “Just as well. You should’ve seen me before the fighting. Way uglier than this. All the broken bones have done me good. Quite the face-lift.”

      She laughed.

      “You know,” Mercer said, “you’d be cute yourself, if you weren’t hell-bent on wrecking my life.”

      Her face went warm from both aspects of his comment, and she hid her blush by tending to the sizzling stir-fry.

      “So, Miss Matchmaker. You leave some poor guy crying back in California?”

      “I was exiled on a ship for six years, remember?”

      “And you never bothered hooking yourself up while you were helping all those lonely tourists?”

      She shrugged. “I dated a few guys, sure. Coworkers, of course.”

      “Of course?”

      “Well, there’s no point getting involved with the guests, when they’re only going to be around for a week. Which is fine for a fling, I guess, if unprofessional…”

      “But you’re not a fling-y kind of girl?”

      “No, I’m not. And cruise ships are really incestuous places. You blink, and everyone’s hooked up with everyone else—the lifeguard with the lounge singer, the nanny with the tango instructor. Sort of complicates a guy’s appeal, knowing he’s kissed half your friends by the time he gets to you.”

      “I can see how that might wreck the mystique.”

      “Plus the gossip on those ships is shameless. And I like that sort of stuff to stay private.”

      “Bit traditional, then?”

      “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” She offered a mysterious little grin and turned back to the stove. It was a curious sensation, knowing he was standing there, just on the other side of the counter. That life, that weird set of experiences and skills. And holy hell, that body. Jenna usually caught herself falling for tall, slender men. Mercer was tall enough, but slender…no. Not burly, either, but…cut. Yes, that was the adjective. If he ever wound up in her Boston bachelor database, she’d be stuck with the inadequate drop-down menu designation of athletic to qualify that build. And if Mercer was athletic, then Bill Gates was well-off.

      “So, you won’t be competing in that tournament next month?” she asked over her shoulder.

      “Nah. I’m strictly there as Delante’s corner. Gonna run that kid into the ground for the next six weeks.” He grinned as though he relished such a chance. “Keep him too busy and too exhausted to worry about girls or any of the other nonsense waiting for him back in his neighborhood.”

      “He’s like your project.”

      “I guess. But I don’t do it for me. I didn’t lose a year’s sleep and nag myself hoarse to keep him from quitting high school because it was fun.”

      “Why, then?”

      “You just see something in a guy. You can tell when a kid’s got it, like this energy. He stands out. And you want to make him see it, too.”

      “And what did my dad see in you?”

      Mercer laughed. “Hell, I dunno. I was never going to go pro, not big-time, and I’m sure he knew it. I think he just let me believe maybe I could, so I’d have something worth working toward, give me some direction. I guess he just liked me.”

      “What were you like, before boxing?”

      “Pretty rotten apple. Or on my way there. My mom figured if her stupid-ass son was so hell-bent on getting himself in fights, maybe he could make something of it.”

      “Guess she was right.”

      He nodded. “Moms usually are. It’s a tough age, fourteen, fifteen. You think you’re a man, even though you’re so incredibly not. If you don’t know what you’re good at by then, your identity starts latching on to whatever you’re bad at. Whatever’s got people paying attention to you. That’s my theory, anyhow.”

      “I think there’s some wisdom in that.”

      They fell silent, and Jenna felt that pleasant wave of nerves again. It would probably only last as long as her wine buzz, but she had a crush on Mercer. The feeling wouldn’t be there when she woke, and their acquaintanceship was already complicated. They shared three key things—an apartment, a business and her dad—and tenuously so. They couldn’t possibly add a romantic entanglement to that list and not expect it to implode. Still, why did Mercer’s personality have to wind up being as appealing as his body?

      “So, you don’t really date, then,” she heard herself asking as she turned down the burner under the veggies.

      “Why, you need recruits for your harem?”

      “It’s called a client database. Are you just a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy, then? Three rounds and tap out?”

      He laughed. “For a girl who won’t kiss and tell, you’re awful nosy about other people’s love lives.”

      She blushed. “Just the wine talking.”

      “Well, I don’t really do serious relationships. Between my mom and your dad, I got a pretty thorough education in how much pain love can saddle you with, if you get it wrong. And most folks I know seem to get it wrong.”

      “That’s why they need me,” she said brightly. “To steer them in the right direction.”

      “No offense, but taking dating guidance from a single woman sounds like being taught to bird-watch from a blind guy.”

      Jenna gaped, playing up her offense. She grabbed a wet sponge and whipped it at him.

      Laughing, Mercer batted it away. “Or hiring a homeless guy as your Realtor.”

      Scanning for a weapon, she reeled out the sink sprayer and gave it a quick, solid squeeze. Mercer studied the damp patch spreading down the front of his T-shirt, still chuckling. He looked up. “If you weren’t a girl, my boss and my landlady, you’d be so dead right now.”

      The faintest smell of burning rice drew her attention, which was just as well—she was enjoying herself far too much.

      “Get us some bowls, Mr. Rowley. It’s time to eat.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      THE WINE WAS TEMPTING.

      Mercer stole a glance at Jenna across the kitchen. Also tempting. Also the worst idea in the history of the world, given the balancing act the next few months were going to demand. Plus she was into commitment and compatibility. Mercer wasn’t a womanizer by any means, but he’d definitely СКАЧАТЬ