Hearts Are Wild Page 4

  She waited for Nick to give the ladies behind the counter a smile and a quick thank-you before he followed her out of the salon. Covetous stares trailed him as they walked through the mall and out the exit doors, heading for the parking lot.

  Nick’s motorcycle was parked on the first level of the parking garage, and they walked to it together. “So this is going to make all the difference, huh?” he asked with a chuckle as he strapped his purchases onto the back of the bike. “New clothes, new look?”

  Maggie’s gaze swept over him again, taking in his broad back and firm backside. She rolled her eyes heavenward. Why couldn’t a different man have walked into her office this morning? One who didn’t make her hands sweat and her imagination run wild.

  She knew darn well that she was going to have about zero trouble finding him a woman. They were going be lined up around the block when they got a look at his videotape.

  That thought should have made her insanely happy. But instead she felt oddly discontented.

  “You look great, Nick,” she said. “You’ll be a hit.” She forced a smile to her lips. “So I’ll see you back at the house, then?”

  He climbed onto his motorcycle, then turned those mysterious eyes on her. “Get on.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll give you a ride to your car.”

  Her heart raced, then leaped. She’d never been on a motorcycle in her life. Dangerous, forbidden machines with dangerous and forbidden drivers.

  The longing to say yes was almost overwhelming. It wasn’t the first time in her life she’d wanted to rip through her good-girl safety net and fly. Cautious living, no risks—it got tedious. But accepting his offer, even for the twenty or so feet it would take to get to her car wouldn’t just be a risk, it would feel…intimate. And there was no way she could go there with Nick.

  He kicked the Harley’s pedal hard, and the motorcycle roared to life beneath him. For just a second she saw herself behind him, her arms around his waist, her thighs pressed against his—

  Her hands balled into fists. “I’ll walk,” she told him. “My car’s right over there.”

  He nodded nonchalantly, his engine purring like an enormous black cat.

  As she turned and walked away, she knew that her new roommate was watching her. Watching and waiting until she was safely in her car.

  She hadn’t expected that, she thought as she slid her key into the lock with shaking hands. She hadn’t expected him to be a gentleman, too.

  “Nick, I could be going crazy, but I swear I saw you today in Santa Flora. At the mall of all places. I decided to come home for the summer. Dad said you were coming into town, but he didn’t think it was until next week. If you are here, big brother, please come by the house or call. It’s been way too long. I miss you. Dad and I both miss you.”

  Nick stabbed the button on his cell phone and tossed it on the bed that he’d be using for the next six months. It was good to hear from his little sister. Throughout his childhood, he’d gone to boarding school on the East Coast, so he didn’t have many friends in Santa Flora—just family and a few acquaintances. But his sister was the best of the bunch.

  Normally Anne stayed on campus in the summer, interning at the hospital, but this summer she’d gone to Europe. She wasn’t supposed to have been back until next week, but he was glad she was home. He’d missed her and hadn’t wanted to avoid her at the mall today. But he was no liar, so that meant he’d have had to tell her about the deal he’d made with Maggie—the search for Miss Right. His sister knew well enough how he felt about relationships, but she’d still tried on numerous occasions to set him up with her friends from medical school. He’d always declined.

  Women and setups and explanations of who Maggie was aside, Nick also didn’t want to get into further discussion about his father and “the big change.” It was going to take a helluva lot more than the man saying he was different for Nick to believe him. Words were just Band-Aids. They covered up a wound, nicely and easily, but they didn’t make it disappear.

  But if the man wanted to show, instead of just tell, would Nick even be willing to watch? Nick knew the answer was really close to yes, and that realization made him feel like a fool.

  He grabbed a towel from his bag and headed for the bathroom. What he could use was a long shower. Relax under the hot spray. God, he hoped that Maggie had taken down her…those— He scrubbed a hand over his face. He just hoped she’d taken them down.

  He stopped short a few feet from the bathroom door, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open. The door was slightly ajar, but it was enough to let him see inside. Need pulsated through him as he took in the long, slender leg propped up on the edge of the bathtub. He couldn’t see who it belonged to, but he had a pretty good guess.

  The sight was really no big scandal. She was still wearing that pale-pink dress. But the vision was just as erotic as if she were only wearing a towel.

  He watched, fascinated, as her pretty petite hands, drenched with body lotion, caressed one long limb, rubbing the lotion into her skin. Feet, calves, knees, then upward. An arrow of pure heat shot straight to his groin.

  What was he thinking? Living with a woman—and this woman in particular? She was already driving him nuts, and he’d only been here a day. What he needed to do was get going on those dates. A woman in his bed, that’s what he needed.

  And not this woman, he warned himself silently as he felt the thought jab and poke at his mind.

  His jaw as tight as the rest of him, he backed the hell up and went into his room. Forget the shower for the moment. And forget hot water. When she was out of the bathroom and safely in her room with the door closed, he was turning that dial to cold. Ice-cold.

  Why did pizza always smell so divine? Maggie wondered, peeking inside the large box, her mouth watering. Pepperoni and extra cheese, spices and thin crust. Perfection.

  She felt a stab of guilt, but quickly brushed it away. So she’d ordered out. Big deal. Pizza was a bargain.

  Maggie needed all the help she could get making it through that tough first year with a new business, so she’d set herself up on a strict budget. Her grandma was always asking if she could help out, but Maggie was determined to make it on her own. So even though Nick’s “board” wasn’t in her original budget projections, she wasn’t going to panic.

  Besides, she hadn’t exactly promised him home-cooked meals, just meals. And her grandma had always said that men thought of pizza as the fifth food group.

  And, she mused, that particular food group was going to get gobbled up if Nick didn’t get his butt down here. What was taking him so long? He was dressed. She knew he was. She’d knocked on his bedroom door, told him that pizza would be here in twenty minutes and listened to his agreement as she’d heard the zing of his zipper. She’d stood there for a moment, her back against the door, listening, imagining what he looked like in jeans and nothing else—all muscle and denim. He’d been dressing. And tonight he’d be undressing, slipping beneath the sheets she’d set out for him.

  A very sensual thought. One of many that kept shooting through her mind at inopportune times. And, just as quickly, she’d force herself to remember that Nick was her roommate, her project, and that this was business.

  This whole scenario tonight, pizza and coziness, reminded her of those adolescent Friday night slumber parties where she’d listened to her friends giggle and gossip about roguish boys like Nick Kaplan. Back then Maggie had experienced the same budding attractions as every other girl, but wouldn’t say so—not aloud, anyway. Even at thirteen she’d understood the plight of the women in her family. By then she’d already named it.

  The Conner Curse.

  “Did you order one for me, too?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, walking into her medium-size kitchen, fresh from the shower, his hair wet and tousled. He wore a T-shirt and those jeans she’d heard earlier, and as he walked toward her on the pale-yellow linoleum, she saw that his feet were bare. Intimacy
comes in all forms, she’d heard her grandma say many times. Now she knew what that meant.

  She turned back to the cupboard and grabbed a couple of plates. “We’ve just got the one pizza, so you’ll have to learn to share.”

  He took the plates from her and put them on the kitchen table. “No problem. I was always good at sharing.”

  “Who told you so?” she said with a playful grin.

  He appeared at her side again, his spicy, soapy scent tempting her good sense. “Miss Amanda.”

  Miss Amanda. Sounded like a character in that book she’d accidentally bought. Bound and Gagged. She’d thought it was a thriller. Not an erotica book. “Someone you dated?” she asked.

  He grinned at her. “Miss Amanda was my kindergarten teacher.”

  “Oh.” Laughing softly, she thought about how new this territory was to her. She’d never had a man in her kitchen before. Except for Jerry the plumber and he didn’t count. He had a potbelly, receding hairline, ten grandchildren and he always wore shoes. “Would you like something to drink? Beer? Soda?”

  “A beer sounds good. Can I get you one?”

  She hesitated, then realized why she was hesitating and decided she was being ridiculous. “I’d love one.” She was a bit of a flyweight when it came to drinking, but what the heck. Anything to calm her nerves. “They’re in the fridge.”

  He grabbed two bottles, opened them. “This is a great house. How long have you lived here?”

  “All of my life.” She set the pizza on the large oak table next to the window. “It was my grandma’s house, but she gave it to me when she moved into the retirement village.”

  “She didn’t tell me why she moved there.” He sat down, a grin playing about his mouth. “Did she get a new roommate, too?”

  “No.” She sat down next to him. “But I think she might have a new boyfriend—her first in a long time.” She caught his interested expression. “I come from a long line of matchmakers. Great at finding love for others. Horrible at finding love for ourselves. I call it The Conner Curse.”

  “It can’t be too horrible. Your grandmother had your mother, and your mother had you.” He raised a brow. “Obviously, they fell in love sometime.”

  Maggie stared at him. “I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

  Nick grabbed a piece of pizza. “What do you mean?”

  “You just said that you have to be in love to have sex.”

  He took a swig of his beer, amusement behind his eyes. “Is that what I said?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s not exactly what I meant.” He flashed her a very devilish smile. “Love is highly overrated. Attraction, on the other hand, cannot be overstated.”

  Did he have to look at her like that? As though if she wanted to be swallowed up, he’d be the first to volunteer? “Well, you were right,” she said, feeling an almost ridiculous need to explain her family’s unlucky history with love. “They did fall in love. But my father left my mother when she told him she was pregnant. And my grandfather died in the war.”

  “Did that necklace belong to your mother?”

  Maggie gasped softly. “Why would you ask about that?”

  He glanced down to where her hand was grasping the locket. “You haven’t stopped touching it since you started talking about your family.”

  “Oh.” Maggie dropped her hand to her side. “Well, it’s not a family heirloom, but it does protect me against—” She didn’t know him well enough to be talking about this. “Let’s just say it keeps me focused on my work and not on—”

  “Men?”

  “Something like that.” She grabbed another slice of pizza, barely seeing a piece of pepperoni fall off onto the tabletop. “What about your family?”

  “What about it?”

  “Do you have any?”

  “I’ve got a father and a sister, and I think I still have a goldfish named Pepper.” The smile Nick gave her never made it to his eyes. “So, when’s my first date?”

  Although Maggie wanted to hear more, she wouldn’t push him further. His past was none of her business, only his present and his future. “Anxious to get started?”

  “The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

  Determined to be playful, she poured her beer into a glass, then turned to look at him. “Now, Mr. Kaplan. Would you say that this glass is half-empty or half-full?”

  “Give it to me for one minute and it’ll be completely empty.”

  “You have a bad attitude, did you know that?” she said.

  “I thought that good girls were supposed to like bad boys.” Nick picked up her lost piece of pepperoni and held it to her lips. “You gonna eat this or what?”

  Maggie stared. At the pepperoni and at his hand. Her breath caught in her throat. It was like the snake with that apple. Did she dare give in to temptation?

  She shook her head, and he smiled, then popped the pepperoni into his own mouth and went back to his pizza.

  Maggie’s appetite was gone, and a different hunger had taken its place. The feeling was so foreign it frightened her. She crossed her legs and took a deep breath. “Look, Nick, for this project to work, we need charm, not seduction.”

  “We?”

  “You. You need to be charming and sensitive.” Business was what was important, and certainly the only thing that mattered. “I’m sure you think you know what women want, but you might be surprised.”

  “Oh, really?” He crossed his arms over his chest, giving her a crooked smile. “Enlighten me.”

  She lifted her chin a fraction. She had no doubt Nick Kaplan could get a woman into bed, but that wasn’t romance, that wasn’t anything lasting. And the future of her business depended largely upon him performing all the little details that made up the elusive elements of a lasting romance.

  “Notice if she’s uncomfortable or cold,” Maggie began. “Let her choose the movie, be interested in her and what she wants out of life. A woman’s dreams are kept locked inside her heart, but I guarantee you, she wants to reveal them to a man who cares.”

  He raised a brow. “Oh? What’s locked inside your heart, Maggie?”

  She stopped and stared at him. “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I.”

  He was playing with her, she knew. But it didn’t quash the sense of yearning that filled her. She’d dated, but never had any man been interested enough in her to ask what was in her heart. Truth was, the secrets of her heart seemed locked away even to her. And she didn’t dare open the door. Not to this man. Not to anyone. “This isn’t about me,” she said. “This is about you and your ability to…”

  Nick shot her a lazy smile. “To seduce a woman?”

  “No,” she said emphatically. “To win her heart.”

  “I do have some experience with women, Maggie.”

  “I’m sure you do. But finding a soul mate goes far beyond the sexual.”

  His eyes widened in exaggerated shock. “Really?”

  “I’m just trying to teach you something,” she said. “I’m not only your matchmaker. I’m your advisor, your coach.” She wasn’t going to let his cocky attitude dissuade her, she thought, getting up from table to grab the hot pepper flakes from the counter. Nick might know everything about women, but she wasn’t taking any chances. The success of Maggie’s Matches was too important. She returned to the table but didn’t sit down. “Women want to be listened to, understood and complimented on the small things. They want their chair pulled out and interesting conversation during the date and on the ride home. And then there’s the walk to the door and the good-night kiss. That’s an important moment.”

  He grinned up at her with sinful intent. “Very important.”

  “You don’t want to rush it. Take your time, move in slowly. Women don’t like—”

  Maggie stopped midsentence when Nick stood up beside her, gathered her in his arms and covered her mouth with his own.

  Like a rag doll, she sagged against him, his lips brushing aga
inst hers. She’d been kissed several times in several different ways, but this one was slow and sensuous and knee-buckling.

  “Maggie?” he whispered against her lips.

  She looked up at him, confused in mind, restless between her thighs. “Yes?”

  His eyes darkened as he ran his thumb across her lower lip. “It looks like you’re the one that needs the lessons.”

  Four

  It took every ounce of self-control Nick had to release Maggie and act as though nothing had happened, as if he’d taught her a lesson and was completely unaffected. But that was bunk. Maggie Conner was intoxicating. She was eighty proof, and he wanted to get drunk.

  Images of lips, pouty and pink, played in his mind. Her breasts pushing up against his chest, teasing him with their round softness and jutting nipples as he’d kissed her. It was as if the Fourth of July had erupted inside him. And that was saying something for a man who’d only felt what amounted to a couple of cherry bombs with any other woman.

  Inches away stood the object of his erotic daydream. The tilt of her head, her arms fairly limp at her sides and the soft liquid expression in her eyes let him know that she was just as affected as he was. His matchmaker. Why couldn’t she just forget about offering him a bevy of single females and offer herself to him instead?

  The idea of seducing Maggie Conner made his blood heat up like the Arizona blacktop on an August day. But it was a wasted thought. Matchmaking aside, she was his roommate for the next six months, and he wasn’t going to jeopardize his living situation for a few nights of amazing—

  Put it away, Kaplan.

  “Well, I think I’ve proved my point,” he said, falling into the chair he’d occupied just a moment ago.

  In seconds the liquid in her eyes turned hard, her voice unsteady. “What point is that? That you know how to kiss?”

  He reached for a slice of pizza. “Exactly.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Everyone knows how to kiss.”