Pregnant By The Maverick Millionaire. Joss Wood

Bayliss

      Public Relations Director

      Vancouver Mavericks

      Thanks but, no thanks. She wouldn’t be attending. Donating to the charity auction had been Colin’s idea and he could attend the luncheon and ball on their behalf. She wasn’t even sure donating their services to the charity auction would raise any money... What bachelor or bachelorette would admit to wanting to use a matchmaker in a room full of their friends and colleagues? Their business was based on discretion and her clients came to her, mostly, via word of mouth. But Wren, and Colin, had dismissed Brodie’s concerns. They seemed to think sisters, brothers and friends would bid on their siblings’ or friends’ behalf. Besides, the guest could bid silently via cell phone as well, so anonymity, if it was required, would be assured.

      Thanks to the competition of online matchmaking Colin was convinced they needed to cement their position as matchmakers to the elite of Vancouver society and they needed to network more and foster relationships. Being part of the Mavericks’ silent auction was a huge coup and would be excellent direct advertising to their target group. Since marketing and PR was Colin’s forte, she’d told him he could represent them at the luncheon.

      Yes, a part of her reluctance was the fact there was a chance Kade would be at the function. Months might’ve passed but she was still embarrassed down to her two-inch designer heels. She’d acted like a ditzy virgin who said yes but meant no. God! How could she be in the same room with him without wanting to jump him—the man still fueled her sexual fantasies—but also wanting to hide under the table?

      Her computer dinged again and she looked at the new message that popped into her inbox.

      Hey, Brodes,

      I presume you received an invite to attend the sponsor’s lunch hosted by the Mavericks? I can’t attend. Kay and I are seeing a fertility specialist that day. Can you go and do the thing for us both?

      Thanks,

      Col

      Brodie groaned.

      Please let Kade not be there, she prayed.

       Two

      “Whose stupid idea was this?”

      Kade Webb scowled at his two best friends and rolled his shoulders under his suit jacket, wishing he was anywhere but in the crowded, over-perfumed bar area of Taste, one of the best restaurants in Vancouver. He’d spent most of last night reading P&L statements and had spent a long, tedious morning with Josh Logan’s hard-ass agent negotiating a deal to buy the hotshot wing, and all he wanted was to plant himself behind his messy desk and make a dent in his paperwork. He was trying to finalize their—his, Mac’s and Quinn’s—partnership with old man Bayliss, Wren’s grandfather, so the four of them could make a solid counteroffer to buy the Mavericks franchise before Vernon’s widow sold it to Boris Chenko, a Russian billionaire who owned a string of now generic sports franchises.

      Kade didn’t have the time to socialize. To play nice.

      What he really wanted, despite it only being noon, was a cold beer, a long shower and some hot sex. Or, to save time, some long, hot sex in a shower. Since he hadn’t had time to date lately the hot sex would have to be a solo act later—how sad, too bad—but really, he’d give it all up, sex included, for a solid eight hours of sleep.

      He was burning the candle at both ends and somewhere in the middle, as well.

      “Will you please take that scowl off your face?”

      Kade looked down into the face of his newly appointed director of public relations and wondered, for the hundredth time, why there was no sexual attraction between him and Wren. She was gorgeous, slim, vivacious and smart, but she didn’t rock his boat. He didn’t rock hers, either. They were friends, just like he was with Mac’s new fiancée, Rory, and for the first time in Kade’s life he was enjoying uncomplicated female relationships.

      That being said, he still wouldn’t say no to some uncomplicated sex.

      “Kade, concentrate!” Wren slammed her elbow into his side and he pulled his attention back to business.

      “Your guests of honor, the main sponsors, should be arriving any minute and you need to pay them some special attention,” Wren insisted, a tiny foot tapping her only indication of nervousness.

      “Who are they again?”

      Frustration flashed in Wren’s blue eyes and Kade held up his hands in apology. “Wren, I’ve been dealing with player negotiations and your grandfather as our new partner, and fending off Myra’s demands for us to make a counteroffer. Sponsors for this ball haven’t been high on my priority list.”

      “Did you read any of the memos I sent you?”

      Kade shrugged. “Sorry, no. But you can tell me now and I’ll remember.”

      He had a phenomenal memory. It was a skill he acquired as a child hopping from town to town and school to school following the whims of his artist father. Within a day of arriving in a new place, he’d find a map and memorize the street names so he’d know exactly where he was at all times. He’d felt emotionally lost so often that being physically lost was going a step too far. His memory helped him catch up with schoolwork and remember the names of teachers and potential friends, so he could ease his way through another set of new experiences.

      Wren ran through the list of the bigger donations and then said, “The Forde Gallery donated one of your father’s paintings, a small watercolor but pretty.”

      Jeez, he remembered when his father had to swap paintings for food or gas or rent money. Even his small paintings now went for ten grand or more... It was a hell of a donation.

      “We have dinners on yachts, holidays, jewelry, the usual bits and pieces businesses donate. The item that will be the most fun and will get the crowd buzzing is the matchmaking service...”

      “The what?”

      “Brodie Stewart and Colin Jones are providing their matchmaking services. The winners, one girl and one guy, will be matched up and sent on three dates to find a potential mate. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

      Brodie Stewart? His Brodie? The girl who’d kissed like a dream but who’d bailed on him before they got to the bedroom?

      “It sounds like hell.” Kade managed to utter the response even though his mind was filled with memories of Brodie, dark hair spilling over her shoulders as she lay against his chest, bright green eyes languid and dreamy after one spectacular hot, wet kiss. He dimly recalled her saying something about her having her own business but why did he think she was in consulting?

      “Is she attending this lunch?” Kade asked and hoped Wren, or his friends, didn’t hear the note of excitement in his voice.

      “You know this Brodie person?” Quinn demanded. And there was the problem with being friends with someone for so damn long. There was little you could get past them.

      “Not really,” Kade replied, sounding bored.

      “Let me give you a hint about your boss, Wren,” Mac stated, his arm around Rory’s waist. “When he lies he always sounds disinterested, faraway, detached.”

      Unfortunately, being in love hadn’t affected Mac’s observational skills and he was as sharp as ever. “Shut the hell up, McCaskill, you have no idea what you are talking about. I met Brodie once, a while ago.”

      “Why didn’t you tell us about her?” Quinn demanded, unsatisfied.

      “Do you tell me about the women you meet?” Kade responded.

      Quinn thought for a moment before grinning. “Pretty much, yeah. And if I don’t tell you, then the press will.”

      Kade pulled a face. The society pages of their local papers and