Page 8 of Matched with the Player

“Then you can arrange an enduring relationship for another guy, okay? Not me.” He’d followed her back to the center of the terrace near the low couch and chairs they’d first sat in.

While it was tempting to back her up to the coffee table and take that kiss his mouth was watering for, a better plan came to mind involving more finesse and less coercion. More of a give-and-go play as opposed to a hardcore slapshot.

Crumpling her business card in her hand, she studied him as if he was a particularly vexing opponent. The fact that she hadn’t walked away yet spoke volumes about how much she wanted his cooperation. He’d all but insulted her business and he’d tried to corner her into a kiss. It wasn’t one of his finer moments, but she’d caught him off guard at every turn.

“Unless…”

He let the word dangle between them, the carrot he needed to entice her.

“What?” She halted the idle mangling of the business card.

“Maybe we could work a trade.”

“I don’t follow you.” She shook her head, a furrow creasing the creamy skin of her forehead.

“Let’s say that I agree to one date with this client of yours who has a hankering to meet me.” He knew that had to be the case. She wouldn’t have pursued him this hard unless someone had specifically requested him.

Did she owe that client a favor or need to impress that person for some reason?

“You’d want something in return?” Her gaze narrowed behind the heavy tortoiseshell frames. “Something beyond the obvious benefit of a prescreened, beautiful, intelligent date.”

“Since we’ve already established that I don’t see that as a benefit to me, I think it’s only fair I receive something I want.”

“Unconventional. But I’m listening.” Her tone was all business.

“In exchange, you have to arrange a date of my choosing.”

She waited a beat, as if looking for the catch.

“That can easily be arranged, of course,” she agreed finally, the genial cooperative note in her voice a surefire indication that she was pleased with the deal. “Orchestrating dates is my specialty.”

“With you.” As he let the words sink in, he caved to the impulse to touch her. Hand settling on her forearm, he made sure she understood. “My price is a date with you, Marissa.”

Her mouth opened. Snapped shut. The surprise in her eyes morphed into worry so fast he almost missed it. But then, her spine straightened and determination lit her expression.

“Impossible. That would be completely unethical.”

Rolling his shoulders in a shrug, he couldn’t show his disappointment or else he’d risk giving her too much power. Like getting a good deal on a car, you had to know when to walk away. But putting off the kiss he wanted wouldn’t be easy. Especially not when they were alone out here under the stars. He stood inches from her and her chest rose and fell rapidly under the dark fabric of her dress. He’d bet anything he could talk her into that kiss now with a little effort.

But the risk was that she’d come to regret it. If he wanted more than a kiss, he needed a better plan. Hold out for the date that would lead to the kind of kiss he really had in mind. One where they wouldn’t come up for air for hours.

Days, maybe.

“Okay. If you change your mind, you can always ask for me at the Phantoms’ practice rink. We’re there every morning except Sundays unless the team is on the road.”

He watched her a second longer, trying to read her expression. Then, with more effort than it took to battle through a penalty kill at the end of a long shift on the ice, Kyle turned and walked away.

Chapter Three

“Where the hell have you been, Murph?” Finnish defenseman Akseli Rankinen slugged Kyle in the shoulder to punctuate the question. “You’ve been MIA half the night.”

Stationed along the back wall of the atrium behind the row of autographing tables, Kyle signed a vintage Phantoms’ jersey as the fundraising event came to a close. Lights came up in the conference center and his teammates squeezed in a few final autographs.

Akseli – shortened to Axel Rankin early in his career– seemed to be done with his signing obligations, his phone in one hand while his other massive palm boxed Kyle’s shoulders. The player had lived with Kyle’s family for his last year in high school to ease his transition into college hockey, so the friendship went deep. The Murphys had become a foster family for the Finnish transplant, giving him a home away from home after being raised in a rough neighborhood in Helsinki. Axel had been part of the trade to Philly in a package deal three weeks prior, but no matter what their future professional lives brought, they were brothers in every way that counted. Which meant Kyle wasn’t about to share details on Marissa. Axel would have a field day if he knew Kyle was a wanted commodity for a matchmaker.

Ax might be his inspiration for the Full Strength hockey camp, but that didn’t mean he’d let his brother give him a hard time.

“I had to school the bartenders on drink-mixing, remember?” He returned a jersey to a long-time fan, flattered the guy had wanted him to autograph alongside signatures he’d collected from some hockey greats over the last three decades. “I worked the bar for a while.”

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