Страница 23 из 72
The blonde stared. Her eyes begged him to stop and converse. Flirt. Do the dance that would eventually lead him to a satisfying bout of sweaty, fulfilling sex. He paused, getting closer, ready to open his mouth. Waited for the subtle spark of attraction that told him they’d have a good time tonight.
Instead, he walked past.
The sharp flash of disappointment on her face pissed him off. What was wrong with him? Why not have a quick tumble? Why was he suddenly obsessed with the one woman he really, really didn’t like? Sure, they had some kind of crazy spark, but damned if he was interested in getting electrocuted. And that woman would surely kill him if they ever got involved. Hell, electrocution would probably be less painful.
He muttered to himself the whole drive home, swearing to get his head on straight. When he walked into his small brick ranch, he shoved a frozen pizza in the oven to cook while he took a quick shower, then settled in front of his television. Maybe American Ninja Warrior was on. The quiet settled around him, and Stone looked around, wondering what Arilyn Meadows would say about his home.
He was neat but not ruthlessly so. His house screamed bachelor, but not in a seedy way. Besides the latest electronics, including wireless sound stereo, a sixty-inch flat-screen TV, and two Macs, the surroundings were simple. He’d gone with wine and black colors. Leather couches, burgundy throw rugs, and dark-wood tables. A ton of bookshelves and a battered desk in the corner piled high with folders and work stuff. Black-and-white photographs accented the walls, mostly views of Yankee Stadium, both new and old. The kitchen was big enough to hold a table and chairs, but he mostly ate at the breakfast bar. The gray and blue granite hadn’t needed updating, nor had the new stainless steel appliances, though he never cooked. His one bedroom had a thick chocolate rug, mahogany furniture, and a sleigh bed he’d grabbed on clearance. He wasn’t big into knickknacks, but he had a tendency to buy blankets in various patterns and colors, so they were tossed all over the furniture.
Grabbing his pizza, he cracked open an IPA and settled onto the sofa in his boxers. Stone clicked through the cha
Arilyn’s melodic voice whispered in his ear.
You drink beer with some cops. Shoot a bit of pool. Maybe lift a few weights at the gym. But basically you’re a workaholic who spends most of his time alone.
He froze. Get out of my head, he ordered. I’m damn happy. Content.
You, Stone Petty, are a hypocrite.
He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He refused to think about her. He’d finish his pizza, watch the rest of the match, and go jerk off to the mental image of the pretty blonde in the gym. Then he’d get his shit together tomorrow and find someone to actually have sex with.
Stone cranked up the volume and shoved the cardboard-like pizza into his mouth with false gusto.
Take that, Arilyn Meadows.
I don’t hear you.
He had a great life.
Really, really great.
seven
STONE LOOKED AROUND. The purple room was filled with soothing blends of sights and sounds that made him itchy. Water trickled from a fountain with glossy river rocks. Classical music streamed through hidden speakers. Instead of sitting behind the large oak desk, Arilyn perched on a velvet cushion across from him, notepad on lap, a slight frown marring her ginger brows. The room was essentially female—Goddess of Fertility or Venus or shit like that. Plants sprung from the corners, silver sparkly pillows accessorized the endless violet, and the carpet was thick beneath his feet.
Did she always sit so still? She reminded him of an exotic bird, watchful of every situation and ready to either dive in to save a buddy or fly off into the wild blue yonder.
And why was he suddenly composing weird analogies to animals when he thought of this woman?
He took in her black Lycra yoga pants, low-heeled boots he bet weren’t real leather, and a snug T-shirt with the Ki
He’d been surprised when she said she wanted to have his one-to-one counseling in her Ki
She seemed to have something on her mind. It showed in the slight tenseness of her shoulders and the assessing gleam in her sea-glass-green eyes. He kept his face impassive, interested in finding out what she wanted.
“Nice office.”
She glanced around as if viewing it for the first time and nodded. “Thank you. My partners, Kate and Ke
“Very girly.”
That brought an a
He scratched his head, hooked one ankle over his leg, and slouched in the chair. “Thought the heart was more important in your business.”
“A clear mind and co
He made a noncommittal snort, and her lips tightened. Stone tamped down on a chuckle. She was so much damn fun to spar with and piss off. It was becoming his favorite hobby. “Why do you need computers? Thought love was a magical mystery thing.”
“Love is magical but also scientific. It takes a lot to find your match. Personality, beliefs, upbringings—all are brought to the table when we meet someone new. Ignoring those pieces of a person and waiting for an invisible chemistry co
Her sharp intelligence intrigued him. A mix of new age hippie crap and nerd scientist. Fascinating. “Do you work the computer side of the business?”
“Yes, I also do the counseling. Which we should get to.”
“In a minute. Did you study computers in school?”
She shifted in the chair. “I graduated with a double master’s in psychology and computer science.”
“How’d you end up working here?”
“My friends and I discussed the benefits of opening up our own business and using each of our strengths to create a unique spot in the market.”
Huh. She was lying. Her gaze dropped down to the floor when she spoke. Now he was dying to know how this matchmaking business got started. “I’m impressed. Most businesses fail, especially ones started with friends.”
Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I’m so glad. Now I can sleep at night.”
“I know better ways to make you sleep.” He paused. “Or not.”
She sucked in a breath, and that weird zing burst between them. He’d only meant to tease her and get her irritated. Instead, the joke was on him. He was suddenly hard and aching to trap her against that chair and kiss her. Long. Deep. Find out if she tasted as sweet as sugar cookies warm from the oven. See if she melted all soft and gooey once he pushed his tongue past her lips and his hands past her clothing. And now he’d moved from comparing her to animals to food. He was losing it.