Tamed by You (7 page)

Hands clasped her
as
she ricocheted backward, pulling her into a hard body and the scent of fresh soap.

She didn't need to look up to know who was holding her. She knew it by the jittery feeling deep in her belly and the goose bumps that rose on her arms. Swallowing, she looked into his eyes. "You're here."

"You ordered me to be here," he mumbled in his deep voice.

Maybe it was because she was so close—close enough to see the dark flecks in his gray eyes—but she swore she saw a glimmer of amusement there. "Do you always do what you're ordered?"

He tugged her a little closer. "Depends on who does the ordering."

She felt her face flushing—darn her redheaded complexion. She gently stepped out of his arms and lifted her head. "How about I open the door and we get down to business?"

He did nothing but raise his eyebrow.

"Not like that. I'm going to build a profile for you, to match you to the perfect woman."

He stared at her, looking like he wanted to growl. But he just said, "I
need
to talk to you about that."

A chill San Francisco breeze blew up her skirt, and she shivered.

He stepped around her, blocking the wind. "Let's go inside first."

Her heart flopped at his chivalry. He was like the French knights in the old books her grandmother used to read to them at bedtime. She stifled the urge to kiss him—on the cheek, of course—and went down the steps to unlock the door. She motioned him to follow.

He had to duck to enter.
S
he turned on the neon Matchmaker sign,
watching him
check out her office.

"This is"—he frowned as he poked at one of her chairs—"the
ugliest
place I've ever seen."

She looked around at the Victorian furniture, all the glass, and the gold accents and privately had to agree. Not that she'd ever admit it. Her mother would kill her. "It's classic."

"It's something." He glared at the chair in front of him. "Will this break if I sit on it?"

If it did, she'd thank him.
S
he just said, "Don't be silly."

"
Silly?
" He looked at her like she'd called him a
girlie-boy
, but he
still
sat on the offending chair.

She supposed
silly
was the last word anyone would ever use to describe him. Sexy, wild, hunky—all applicable. Gorgeous, yes. Untamed, definitely.

He frowned at her. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you haven't had breakfast and I look like French toast."

She
loved
French toast.
Lowering her gaze, s
he tugged her skirt down and crossed her legs. "I'm simply assessing you."

"Don't."

S
h
e blinked. "Why not?"

"I'm not interested in dating anyone."

"But you're here."

"Because you told me to be here."

No wonder Marley had nicknamed him "the Hulk."
He sounded
just
like
his namesake
.
It made her want to grin, but she knew he wouldn't appreciate that, so she bit her lip to keep herself in check.
"You could have said no."

"You didn't give me a chance." He stood up, towering over her.

"If that's my cue to be intimidated, it's not going to work." Because he just looked hot, like he could sling her over his shoulder and carry her off to his lair. Ignoring an unfortunate shiver of excitement, s
he stood up and met him toe-to-toe. "You had every chance to say no. I think secretly you wanted to come here. Deep down inside, I think you're tired of being alone."

His nostrils flared, and he leaned toward her. "I'm not interested in dating."

She inhaled his scent and wanted to sink her face in his neck to breathe him in more. "Everyone's interested in dating."

"
Are y
ou?"

"Yes,
I am
."

"
So
you
date
?"

"I do."
Not very well, but she deserved an "A" for effort.

His gaze narrowed and he looked like he wanted to hit someone.

"But we're not talking about me
," she said quickly, wondering what upset him.
"
This is about you. You don't want to be alone every night, do you?"

Reaching out, h
e put a finger under her chin. "Are you volunteering?"

His touch short-circuited her mind.
All her thoughts vanished. She only saw him. She only felt the electric sensation of his one finger on her skin. She wanted to tip forward into his arms.

She wanted him to kiss her.

Just once—just to see. They were already so close.

As she shook her head to clear the lust, his big hand wrapped around her chin, a caress she felt on every erogenous zone on her body.

She heard her mother's voice
, manic, exclaiming,
You must
never
fall in love with your clients
.

Not that she was going to f
all in love with the Hulk
.
That was overstating what was going on. Jumping his bones, on the other hand, was within the realm.

But he was the fastest way to getting her mother back on an even keel, so s
he stepped out of his reach, knowing she was doing the right thing. "
I'm volunteering
to find you the perfect woman
.
We're going to go over some introductory questions, so I have a better idea of who you are. And then we're going to have to do something about your hair."

"My hair?" he growled.

"You need a haircut. Unless I can find a woman who's into rockers, but you'd have more luck with that on the Jersey coast than in San Francisco."

He stared at her. She had no idea what was going on in his head, but she breathed a sigh of relief when he said, "I really have no choice in this, do I? You won't give up until you find some sucker to go out with me."

"I won't
.
B
ut
I promise
she'll be awesome." S
h
e gave him a confident smile, even though the idea of handing him over to some random woman irritated her.

She'd just push her feelings aside.
This was important. Her mother's well-being lay in the balance. Valentine's
sanity
, too, because the longer her mother stayed in town, the more likely
she'd
go crazy right alongside her.

On the bright side, maybe her dad could get a deal on a padded room for two.

Unfortunately she didn't have many women in her database. In fact, most of the people in her database were men she'd dated in the past.
She'd added Nicole, but she couldn't pair her friend with the Hulk. Even if Nicole didn't already have a boyfriend, it seemed wrong.

She frowned. "I don't know your name."

He looked like he didn't want to tell her, but finally he said, "Ethan Hunter."

"Nice to meet you, Ethan Hunter." She gestured to the chair he'd vacated. "Please sit. In order to find a good match for you, I need to get to know you."

She wasn't sure he'd play along, so when he sat she sighed in relief. Hope surged through her. She might actually make this work. She took out her phone and sat across from him.

"What are you doing?" he asked with more curiosity than surliness.

"Pulling up my matchmaking app." She brandished her phone and then opened the app.

"There's a matchmaking app?"

"Well, it's not on the market yet. You're my test case." She glanced up at him. "Don't worry. It rocks."

"You developed it yourself?" he asked incredulously.

"You don't need to look like I just sprouted another head." Although she was used to it. She'd been tinkering for years, and people were always surprised when she said she'd developed something.

Ethan shook his head. "It's just—"

"What?"

"Unexpected," he said finally.

The way he was watching her made her want to squirm, so she ducked her head and focused on her phone. "Age?"

"Thirty."

"
Sign?
"

"
Stop
," he said immediately
.
After a moment,
he
added, "And sometimes
Do Not Cross.
"

Valentine
shook her head but
she couldn't help smiling.
"
Kids?
"

"
No
ne
.
" At her look, he said, "I'm careful."

"
Do you want them?
"

"
Do you?
"

Frowning, she shrugged.
"
Does that matter?
"

"Yes."

"Then sure.
As long as they aren't girls
."

"
W
h
at do you have against girls?
"

"
Nothing. I love all kids. But I don't need my daughter going through what I did growing up.
"

"
That bad?
"

For her it had been. She had perspective—she knew her childhood was wonderful compared to a lot of people's, but she wouldn't want any kid to feel the pressure she'd had. "
Just a lot of expectations. My sister Isabella had it lucky, though she always felt like she was short-changed. What's your idea of a good date?
"

"
One where the woman leaves before the morning and doesn't call me back.
"

She frowned.
"
That's not funn
y, and y
ou're making me think you're no good in bed.
"

"
What?
"

She knew that'd get him. She hid her grin but couldn't resist teasing a little. "
I bet they don't call you back because they weren't satisfied.
"

Ethan
leaned forward, giving her the look that made
Marley dub him the Hulk.
"
I always satisfy, Sunshine.
"

S
he patted his hand
.
"
Tell yourself whatever you need to.
"

"
You doubt me?
"

Valentine
shrugged.

"
I can prove it
," he said.

Most people might have taken that as a threat, but to her it was a promise of great delights. "
No
,
thank you.
Tell me about your job."

"I don't have one," he growled.

She'd stepped over the bounds with that question. She wished she knew why—it seemed innocuous enough. "You must have some source of income.
Laurel Heights isn't cheap
."

"I get
by.
" He glared at her. "Next question."

Studying him, she wondered if there was another way to get that answer out of him, but his expression was completely closed to her. She sighed and glanced down at her phone.

She had more questions, but they weren't necessary for the pairing—she was just curious about him. She supposed she could ask next time, if she hadn't scared him away yet.

"You're thinking
,
"
h
e
said
. "I don't like the look of it."

Smiling slowly, she stood and held out her hand. "Just wait. You'll be on your knees thanking me in a couple weeks."

He took her hand and his gaze intensified, and Valentine could read every naughty thought going through his mind like it was an
X-rated movie
. She flushed. "Stop that. I'm not part of the bargain."

"Too bad," he mumbled, pulling her closer. His head lowered, his eyes at half-mast focused on her lips. His hand firmed on hers, and he leaned—

Just one kiss, she told herself. No one would have to know, and it wouldn't break the rules, because love wasn't involved.

But then he let her go.

She blinked as she watched him stride
toward the front door
. She regained enough presence of mind to call after him, "Meet me here tomorrow at one.
I'll have a game plan by then.
"

His only reply was a growl
as he walked out
.

H
e
probably
made noises like that during sex.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, as if she'd said it out loud. She shouldn't have been thinking that. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the image of him over her, his hair falling forward around his face, his gaze intent on hers as he thrust into her.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the image
.
"Bad Valentine."

He wasn't for her. He was going to be her mom's savior—and hers, too. She'd make sure of it. She'd come up with a strategy to turn him into the ideal date. She'd tame the beast and then hand him over to another woman.
That
was what she needed to visualize.

She frowned at her phone. She really hated her job—sometimes more than others.

Chapter Seven

Ethan had every intention of blowing off Valentine
. He'd picked up the phone half a dozen times to call and cancel, but each time he'd felt like a coward.

In the end, he decided to do it in person. He didn't need or want anyone to date right now—he genuinely had life-or-death issues to deal with. He'd explain it to her and that would be that.

But each time
he pictured her big blue Bambi eyes, disappointed in him, and his resolve caved.

He'd have to be firm, he decided as he approached her underground office. He
stared at
the
neon sign that fizzled Matchmaker
and told himself to be strong
.
H
e didn't want to date anyone. He didn't want to dress nicely or cut his hair. He didn't want someone to share his life. His life sucked.