Free The Invitation (Matchmaker Trilogy) by Barbara Delinsky Page A

instant she’d asked if they ever made it to her room at all.
    “Boyfriends?” he prompted.
    “That’s none of your business.”
    “I’ll tell you about me if you tell me about you,” he cajoled.
    “I don’t want to know about you.”
    Bemused, he tipped his dark head to the side. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you knew what you faced?”
    “I’m not facing anything,” she argued, but there was a note of desperation in her voice.
    “Two weeks, Shaye. We’re going to be together for two long weeks.”
    “Miss Burke, to you.”
    For a split second he looked chastised, then spoiled it with a helpless spurt of laughter.
    “All right,” she grumbled quickly. “Call me Shaye.”
    “Shaye.” He tempered his grin. “Do you have any boyfriends?”
    She knew she’d lost a little ground on the Miss Burke bit, which even to her own ears had sounded inane. But she was supposed to be prissy. And as far as boyfriends were concerned, a few white lies wouldn’t hurt.
    “I don’t date.”
    His eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
    “No.”
    “With a body like yours?”
    “For your information, there’s more to life than sex.” She wondered if she was sounding too prissy. She didn’t want to overdo it.
    “Really?”
    “I’m too busy to date. I have a very demanding job, and I love it. My life is complete.”
    He shook his head. “Whew! You’re something else.” He didn’t believe her for a minute, but if she wanted to play games, he could match her. “I have a demanding job myself, but I couldn’t make it through life without steady helpings of sex. Women’s liberation has its up side, in that sense.”
    “Then what are you doing on this trip?” she asked through gritted teeth. “How could you drag yourself away from all those warm beds and passionate arms?”
    “And legs,” he added quickly. “Don’t forget legs. I’m a leg man, remember?”
    She was getting nowhere, she realized. He looked as though he had no intention of budging, and she didn’t think she had the physical strength to make him. “Please,” she said, deliberately wilting a little, “I really am tired. I don’t want to fight you, and I don’t want to be on guard every minute of this trip. If you just leave me alone, I’ll stay out of your way.”
    “Please, Noah.”
    “Please, Noah.”
    Her meekness was too much, he decided. When she was meek, there was no fire in her eyes, and he rather liked that fire. “Well, I have learned something new about you.”
    “What’s that?”
    His eyes slid over the moistness of her skin. “You sweat.”
    “Of course I sweat! It’s damn hot in here!”
    He grinned. So much for meekness. “The question,” he ventured in a deep, smooth voice, “is whether you smell as good like this as you did before.” He leaned closer.
    Shaye put up here hands to hold him off, losing her grip on the sheet in the process. But she’d been right; she was no match for his strength. Her palms were ineffective levers against his chest, and despite her efforts, she felt his face against her neck.
    His nose nuzzled her. His lips slid to the underside of her jaw. He opened his mouth and dragged it across her cheek to her ear.
    And all the while, Shaye was dying a thousand little deaths because she liked the feel of his mouth on her, she liked it!
    “Even … better,” he whispered hoarsely. His lips nipped at her earlobe, and the hoarse whisper came again. “You smell … even better.”
    Her eyes were shut and her breathing had grown erratic. “Please, stop,” she gasped brokenly. “Please, Noah…”
    He was dizzy with pleasure at the contact, and would have gone on nuzzling her forever had he not caught the trace of fear in her voice. He hadn’t heard that before, not fear, and he knew instinctively that there was nothing put on about it. Slowly and with a certain amount of puzzlement, he drew back and searched her eyes. They were wide with fear, yes, but with other things as well.