date of birth, his height, his weight. Then again, he also loved her high cheekbones, her stubborn chin, her small but very firm breasts and those long, slim legs.
He liked everything about her and he wished he could blow off lunch and take her to bed. When this stupidity was over, he promised himself. When it was done, heâd kidnap Brodie for the weekend, take her somewhere private and keep her naked in his bed until heâd burned this craving for her out of his system.
He was hardly sleeping and when he did, his dreams were erotic, with Brodie taking the starring role. He thought about her at the most inappropriate times. Memories from the night they shared obliterated his concentration. It was torture trying to negotiate when he recalled the way Brodie fell apart under his touch.
Brodie pinching his wrist pulled him back to their conversation. âWhat?â
âI asked...siblings?â
âNone.â Heâd always wanted a brother, someone to take the edge off the loneliness growing up. Someone to stand by his side as he entered the hallway of a new school or joined a new team. Someone who could help him recall the towns theyâd lived in and in what order.
âParents?â
âMy father lives in the city, my mother died when I was ten.â He snapped the words out. He rubbed a hand over his jaw. God, he didnât want to do this. He never discussed his childhood, his past, his on-off relationship with his socially inept, now reclusive father. âYou donât need information about my past so move along.â
He saw the furrow appear between Brodieâs eyebrows. Well, tough. His childhood was over. He finally had his brothers in Mac and Quinn and he was content. Sometimes he was even happy.
Kade leaned back in his seat. If he had to answer personal questions, then so did she. âAnd your parents? Where are they?â
âDead.â Brodie didnât lift her head. âI was twenty.â
âIâm sorry, Brodes.â
âThanks. Moving on...what characteristic in a woman is most important to you? Looks, empathy, humor, intelligence?â
âAll of them,â Kade flippantly answered, wishing he could ask how her parents died, but he could tell the subject was firmly off-limits. âDo you have siblings?â
âNo.â Brodie tapped her fingernail against the screen of her tablet. âIâm asking the questions, Webb, not you.â
âQuid pro quo,â Kade replied. âWere you close to your parents?â
He saw the answer in her eyes. Sadness, regret, sheer, unrelenting pain. A glimmer suggesting tears was ruthlessly blinked away. Oh, yeah...they mightâve passed many years ago, but Brodie was still dealing with losing them.
He was fascinated by this softer, emotional Brodie. She was fiercely intelligent, sexy and independent, but beneath her tough shell she made his protective instincts stand up and pay attention. He wanted to dig deeper, uncover more of those hidden depths.
âTell me about them, Brodie.â
âWhere is our food?â Brodie demanded, looking around. âI could eat a horse.â
âWhy wonât you talk about them?â Kade persisted. And why couldnât he move off the topic? He never pushed this hard, was normally not this interested. Maybe he was getting sick? He was definitely sick of this matchmaking crap and he hadnât even started with the dates yet. He just wanted to take Brodie home and make love to her again. Was that too much to ask?
Apparently it was.
Brodie finally, finally looked at him and when she did, her face was pale and bleak. âBecause it hurts too damn much! Satisfied?â
Dammit, he hadnât meant to hurt her. Brodie flung herself backward and stared out the window to watch the busy traffic.
âSorry, sweetheart,â he murmured.
âMe, too.â Brodie, reluctantly, met his eyes. âPlease donât pry, Kade. I
William Manchester, Paul Reid