Pregnant by the Maverick Millionaire Read Free

spine and rolled her head on her shoulders in an effort to work out the kinks.
    Jan pushed a pretty pink plate holding a chocolate chip cookie across the table. “Maybe this will make you feel better.”
    It would, but Brodie knew there was something other than sympathy behind Jan’s fat-and-sugar-laden gesture. “What do you want?”
    â€œMy cousin is in her thirties and is open to using a matchmaker. I suggested you.”
    Brodie scowled at her friend, but she couldn’t stop herself from breaking off the corner of the cookie and lifting it to her mouth. Flavors exploded on her tongue and she closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Better than sex, I swear.”
    â€œHoney, if my cookies are better than sex, then you ain’t doing it right,” Jan replied, her voice tart. She leaned forward, her bright blue eyes inquisitive. “You having sex you haven’t told me about, Brodie?”
    She wished. The closest she’d come to sex was Kade Webb’s hot kiss six months ago, but sex itself? She thought back. Three or so years?
    She was pathetic.
    After taking another bite of the cookie, Brodie pulled her thoughts from her brief encounter with the CEO of the Mavericks professional ice hockey team and narrowed her eyes at her friend. “You know I only take men as my clients, Jan.”
    â€œWhich is a stupid idea. You are halving your market,” Jan said, her business sense offended. But Brodie’s business model worked; Brodie dealt with men, while her associate Colin only had women clients. They pooled their databases and office resources. As a result, they were doing okay. In the hectic twenty-first century—the age of the internet, icky diseases and idiots—singles wanted help wading through the dating cesspool.
    â€œWomen are too emotional, too picky and too needy. Too much drama,” Brodie told Jan. Again.
    Brodie snapped off another piece of cookie and wrinkled her nose when she realized she’d eaten most of it. She was a sucker for chocolate. And cookies. Thank the Lord she had a fast metabolism. She still ran every day, but never in the morning.
    â€œThe men don’t really want to date me. They just like the attention I pay them. They tend to forget they are paying me to pay attention. And I know far too much about them too soon.”
    An alert on her tablet told her she’d received a new email. Jan pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll let you get back to work. Do you want another cup of coffee?”
    Brodie already had caffeine-filled veins but why should that matter? “Please.”
    She swiped her finger across her tablet and accessed her inbox. She’d received quite a few messages when she’d been dealing with Mr. Suave but only one made her pulse accelerate.
    Your donation to the auction at the Mavericks’ Charity Ball filled the subject line and all the moisture in her mouth disappeared. Jeez, she’d had a brief encounter with Kade months ago, shouldn’t she have forgotten about him by now?
    Unfortunately Kade wasn’t the type of man who was easily forgotten. And, if she had to be truthful, she still missed those early-morning runs when it seemed like they had the park to themselves. She missed the way her heart kicked up when she saw him, missed the way he pushed her to run faster, train harder. She’d enjoyed him, enjoyed that time with him, more than she should have.
    Brodie rubbed her hands over her face and gave herself a mental slap. She was almost thirty, a successful business owner and matchmaker to some of the sharpest, richest, most successful bachelors in the city. She should not be thinking about the sharpest, richest, best-looking bachelor in the city.
    Pathetic squared. Brodie shook her head at her ridiculousness and opened the email.
    Dear Ms. Stewart,
    On behalf of the Chief Executive Officer of the Vancouver Mavericks, Kade Webb, may I extend our heartfelt gratitude for your donation