Married To The Maverick Millionaire. Joss Wood

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Chenko. And that would be on Quinn’s head.

      His teammates, his friends, his brothers didn’t deserve that.

      He didn’t have a choice. He’d sacrifice his free-wheelin’ lifestyle, clean up his mouth, tone down the crazy stunts, exhibit some patience and stop giving the press enough rope to hang him. Mac and Kade, his players, the fans—everyone needed him to pull a rabbit out of his hat and that’s what he would do. But how long would it take for the press to get off his ass? Three months? Six? He could behave himself for as long as he needed to, but it would mean no stunts, no women...

      No women. After Storm’s crazy-as-hell behavior, he was happy to date himself for a while. And the new season was about to start. With draft picks and fitness assessments and training, he wouldn’t have that much spare time. Yeah, he could take a break from the sweeter-smelling species for a while, easily.

      What he wouldn’t do is get married. That was crazy talk. Besides, Cal had been joking. She had a weird, offbeat sense of humor.

      Quinn shut off the jets, grabbed a towel and wound it around his hips. He walked out of his bathroom and braked the moment he saw Cal sitting on the edge of his king-sized bed, a beer bottle in her hand.

      “Just make yourself at home, sunshine,” he drawled, sarcasm oozing from every clean pore.

      “We should get married,” she told him, a light of determination in her eyes.

      He recognized that look. Cal had her serious-as-hell face on. “God, Cal! Have you lost your mind?”

      * * *

      Possibly.

      Cal watched as Quinn disappeared into his walk-in closet and slammed the door behind him. She eyed the closed door and waited for him to reemerge, knowing that she needed to make eye contact with Quinn to make him realize how desperately serious she was.

      Dear Lord, the man had a six-pack that could make a woman weep. Callahan Adam, get a grip! You’ve seen Quinn in just a towel before. Hell, you’ve seen him naked before! This should not—he should not—be able to distract you!

      Right. Focus.

      Them getting married was a temporary, brilliant solution to both their problems, but she’d have to coax, persuade and maybe bully him into tying the knot with her. If she and Quinn married, she would be killing a flock of pesky pigeons with one supercharged, magic stone. She just needed Quinn to see the big picture...

      The door to the closet opened and Quinn walked out, now dressed in a pair of straight-legged track pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, the arms pushed up to reveal the muscles in his forearms. He’d brushed his hair off his face, but his scowl remained.

      Cal sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed and patted the comforter next to her. “Let’s chat.”

      “Let’s not if you’re going to mention the word marriage.” Quinn scowled and sat on the edge of the bucket chair in the corner, his elbows on his knees and his expression as dark as the night falling outside. Oh, she recognized the stubbornness in his eyes. He wasn’t in any mood to discuss her on-the-fly proposal. If she pushed him now, he’d dig in his heels and she’d end up inheriting Toby’s tainted $200 million.

      Being a little stubborn herself, she knew that the best way to handle Quinn was to back off and approach the problem from another angle.

      Cal rubbed her eyes with her fist. “It’s been a really crazy afternoon. And a less-than-wonderful day. I spoke to my dad’s doctor about fifteen minutes ago.”

      Quinn’s demeanor immediately changed from irritation to concern. He leaned forward, his concentration immediately, absolutely, focused on her. It was one of his most endearing traits. If you were his friend and he cared about you and you said that you were in trouble that was all that was important. “And? Is he okay?”

      “He looked awful, so very old,” Cal said, placing her beer bottle on his bedside table. Her father would be okay, she reminded herself as panic climbed up her throat. The triple heart bypass had been successful and he just needed time to recover.

      “The doctor says he needs to take three months off. He needs to be stress-free for that time. He’s recommended my father book into a private, very exclusive recovery center in Switzerland.”

      “But?”

      “According to the doc, Dad is worried about the foundation. Apparently, there are loads of fund-raisers soon—the annual masked ball, the half-marathon, the art auction. The doctor said that if I want my father to make a full recovery, I’ll have to find someone to take over his responsibilities.”

      “There’s only one person he’d allow to step into his shoes,” Quinn stated, stretching out his legs and leaning back in his chair.

      “Me.”

      “You’re an Adam, Red, and your father has always held the view that the foundation needs an Adam face. I remember him giving you a thirty-minute monologue over dinner about how the contributors and the grant recipients valued that personal connection. How old were we? Fifteen?”

      Cal smiled. “Fourteen.”

      “So are you going to run the foundation for him?”

      “How can I not?” Cal replied. “It’s three months. I spent three months building houses in Costa Rica, in Haiti after their earthquake, in that refugee camp in Sudan. I say yes to helping strangers all the time. I want to say yes to helping my father, but I don’t want to stay in Vancouver. I want be anywhere but here. But if I do stay here, then I can help you, Q. Marrying me will help you rehab your reputation.”

      If this wasn’t so damn serious, then she’d be tempted to laugh at his horrified expression.

      “I’m not interested in using my association with you, sullying my friendship with you, to improve my PR,” Quinn told her in his take-no-prisoners voice.

      And there was that streak of honor so few people saw but was a fundamental part of Quinn. He did his own thing, but he made sure his actions didn’t impact anyone else. His integrity—his honor—was why she couldn’t believe a word his psycho ex spouted about their relationship. Quinn didn’t play games, didn’t obfuscate, didn’t lie. And he never, ever, made promises he couldn’t keep.

      “I can rehabilitate my own reputation without help from you or anyone else.”

      Cal didn’t disagree with him; Quinn could do anything he set his mind to. “Of course you can, but it would be a lot quicker if you let me help you. The reality is that, according to the world, I am the good girl and you’re the bad boy. I don’t drink, party or get caught with my panties down.” God, she sounded so boring, so blah. “I am seen to be living a productive and meaningful life. I am the poster girl for how filthy-rich heiresses should behave.”

      “Bully for you,” Quinn muttered, looking unimpressed.

      “I know—I sound awful, don’t I?” Cal wrinkled her nose. “But my rep, or the lack of it, can work for you, if you let it. Being seen with me, spending time with me will go a long way to restoring your reputation and, right now, it needs some polishing. The Mavericks are in sensitive discussions around the future of the team and, from what I can gather, your position within the organization is unstable. Your fans СКАЧАТЬ