Driving Her Wild. Meg Maguire

he was a man, not a guy. He’d suffered more disappointment and shouldered more responsibility than she’d have guessed. And these extra dimensions only made her sexual attraction feel all the more charged and unwieldy. And reckless.

      Steph hit Play. They watched the tape through to the end of the match, and she stole sidelong glances, smirking at the way Patrick winced.

      She shut it off. “So that’s MMA.”

      “That’s barbaric.”

      “The rules have gotten stricter since that event. No knees to the face once a guy’s on the ground, that kind of thing.”

      “And that’s what you do? Or did?”

      She nodded.

      “On TV?”

      “Not always, but a few times.”

      “It must pay well.”

      She shrugged. “At the top, yeah.”

      “Were you at the top?”

      “No. But it’s what I love. I made enough to make it worth it.”

      “Until now.”

      She stretched, and let her arms flop along the back of the recliner, feeling the hour. “I’ll be thirty in a couple weeks. My body doesn’t bounce back the way it used to, and I’m tired of all the traveling. I’m ready to settle down.”

      “With a hot doctor.”

      She smiled. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

      “Blind date, right? Who hooked you guys up?”

      Her cheeks warmed. “The matchmaking agency upstairs.”

      “Oh. I hadn’t thought of trying that...I’ve had crappy luck doing the bar scene again, and the online stuff intimidates me. I have no idea what to say to make myself sound interesting. Going through an actual service must be expensive though.”