Hearts Are Wild. Laura Wright
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That she drive a motorcycle and wear combat boots?”
“That’s two things, Maggie,” he retorted with a grin.
“You’ll change your mind someday. Chance meetings are more difficult in today’s world.” She shrugged. “No one wants to be single forever.”
“As far as I’m concerned, forever doesn’t sound long enough.”
Maggie felt weary, as if she was about to hike a hill she’d been up a thousand times. Bachelors, playboys and bad-ass bikers. They all wanted freedom. They had no idea that being loved by the right woman beat that idea all to hell. But how in the world was she going to convince a townful of guys that true love awaited them if she couldn’t even convince one?
“I have a great idea,” he said. “Let’s discuss it at home tonight.”
“Mine or yours?”
“Ours.”
She sighed. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”
“When I want something, Maggie, I’ll go to great lengths to get it.” He stood before her, all six feet three inches of him, the scents of leather and virility oozing from him. “But when I need something, I’ll do just about anything.”
She shivered at his tone, and her pulse danced a samba at the way his gaze moved over her face.
Go after what you want. It was certainly something they had in common. She wanted people to find love and would go to extraordinary lengths to help them. But Maggie needed her business to be a success and would almost sell her soul to achieve it.
As she tossed the videotape from one hand to the other, an idea began to take form in her mind. Her first two campaigns to attract men to Maggie’s Matches hadn’t yielded one eligible guy. So she knew free sign-ups and comped first-date expenses weren’t going to have them lining up out the door. What she needed was a success story.
It was crazy, she knew. But she really did need the rent money—her store’s light bill alone was Pike’s-Peak steep—and it would be an unbeatable way to advertise to the male public while converting a nonbeliever. It would also give that nonbeliever what he needed most.
Excitement bubbled like soda fizz in Maggie’s stomach as she imagined the slogan:
Even A Skeptic Can See The Light. Let Maggie’s Matches Guide You On Your Way To Love.
She turned to Nick, a new confidence building inside her. “What if my matchmaking skills worked for you, Nick?”
His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“What if I found you the love of your life?”
He snorted. “Impossible.”
Oh, she loved that word. “You’re really not all that confident, are you?”
“Maggie, save it for all those lonely schmucks who want your help.”
She grabbed his arm. “No one can resist the power of love, Nick.”
He looked down at her hand on his arm, then at her, his eyes dark and mysterious as a forest at twilight. “I can resist anything.”
Pure muscle, pure strength. And heat. She felt it beneath her touch. It was too much.
Maggie lifted her hand from his arm. “Are you willing to give your heart a little test in exchange for a six-month stay at Casa Conner?”
His brows drew together in a frown. “You lost me.”
“Give me four weeks to find you the love of your life,” she said as she pulled a set of keys from her pocket, “and I’ll give you these.”
Two
Nick felt suspended, as if he’d just taken his Harley over one of the roller-coaster hills in Colorado and was hovering a few inches off the blacktop, his gut tight as he waited to hit the ground. He stared at Maggie. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s simple. I’ll rent you the room at my house—” she looked up at him, hopeful “—and in exchange you’re going to let me find you a woman.”
He leaned in closer, breathing in her soft, floral scent. “I have no trouble getting women, I promise you.”
“Let me rephrase. I’m going to find you the perfect woman. The love of your life.”
“Lady, I just want the room. No love, no perfect woman.”
“I’m sorry.” Maggie held up the keys, they swayed like a pendulum between them. “But you can’t have one without the other.”
“I already gave your grandmother a hefty deposit.”
“No problem. I can get it back to you by the end of the day if you decide not to take me up on my offer.”
For one long moment Nick could only stare. Then he ground out, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “And when I find you Miss Right, you’ll become my walking advertisement. You’ll tell everyone, especially the men in this town, that coming to Maggie’s Matches was the best thing you ever did.”
“This is blackmail.”
“Yes, I guess it is. But my business needs a leg up—of the male variety. And though I hate to do it, desperate times…”
Forget about the teeth-rattling slam of Harley hitting asphalt, Nick thought. This conversation was like walking across a field of land mines. He had no clue when the next bomb was about to go off. He didn’t like being blackmailed or coerced. No one pushed him into something he didn’t want to do anymore.
He’d had enough of that growing up with a workaholic father who’d planned his future from the age of five. Nick hadn’t stuck around to follow that empty course, and there was no way he was going to follow Maggie’s.
“Just to sweeten the deal,” she began encouragingly. “I’ll even throw in board to go along with that room.”
He rubbed his jaw, his gaze traveling her face. She was brimming with anticipation, like a little girl on Christmas morning. Adorable as hell and just as hard to resist. But, shoot, he wasn’t a damn puppy in a box for her to open and show off. He wasn’t looking for the love of his life. He wasn’t looking to settle down and get caged.
“Listen, Maggie, I’d like to help you out, here, but I’m really not interested in getting involved.”
“I understand,” she said slowly.
“Good.” He nodded, relief casually passing through him. “So, can we get back to talking about—” He stopped short, studying her expression. She had a look in her eyes. Pity or…or what? Oh, hell. She was obviously abandoning blackmail for a new tactic. “What is it exactly that you understand?”
“That you must be a pretty scared and lonely man.”
She turned and walked out of the room, leaving him standing there, his jaw growing tighter by the second. Females. They provoked you, and you knew exactly what they were up to, yet you couldn’t stop yourself from following them into the other room and trying to convince them how wrong they were.
“I’m not scared of a damn thing!” There it was. What a sucker.
“Then what’s the problem, Nick?” She stood by the front door, her back to him, her trim silhouette outlined in the sun. “I mean, it’s a perfect solution. You get the room, and I get some free advertising.” She glanced over her shoulder, a brow raised in challenge. “That is, unless your bad attitude scares the ladies away.”
If he clenched his teeth any tighter they were going to crack. “I’m not looking for Miss Right. I don’t want—”
“To go out with a bunch of beautiful women?”
“I