A Wifey for the Bad Boy(78)

"Was. Couldn't deal with the insurance companies and the political bullshit."

"What do you do now?"

"Whatever I want. I made a few good investments. Really good. I don't have to work anymore. At least not at something I don't enjoy."

What do you enjoy, she almost asked, but bit her tongue. This guy radiated a powerful sensual energy, and no doubt his list of enjoyable activities would make her pulse race. Faster than it did now.

"Tell me about this investment project you're working on with my dad."

Something safe and boring.

"It's not terribly exciting. How about we talk about you. Your father mentions you all the time, but doesn't go into much detail."

What? A guy who didn't want to talk about himself? Odd. Sara continued to peruse the pictures on the shelf. Doug had kept one of their family, him, her and her mom, tucked away in the back. She wiped off the light coat of dust and studied it. How happy they all looked.

"I'm not terribly exciting either. I live in Maplewood, I'm an admin assistant, and I hang out with my friends."

"I'm sure there's more to you than that. Come on over and eat. I opened your wine for you."

Yes, wine. Maybe that would settle her nerves. Something about Mathew did funny things to her lady parts. His voice, lord, like liquid heat, sliding along her nerve endings. Moisture formed between her thighs just listening to him talk.

She chose a chair opposite the couch and grabbed a piece of pizza and a glass of wine.

"Sorry, I ate mine already. My table manners are non-existent tonight. I'm starving."

Yet he still left her two pieces. How thoughtful was that?

"You can have another piece, if you want. I'm not that hungry. Really, I'd like to know about the project. Unless it's top secret."

"Nothing like that." Mathew grabbed the last slice. "There are a few vacant houses in a low-rent district in Clayton. Your dad and I are thinking of buying them, fixing them up, and turning them over to a veteran's group to rent to homeless vets."

Holy crap! Who was this guy? Jesus?

"Mathew, why do you do all this charity work? And why is my dad involved?"

He licked sauce off his fingers, a move that produced more heat in the room than the blazing fire.

"Call me Matt. I've been fortunate in life. I've managed to amass a great deal of money, but I remember what it's like to be down. People helped me then, and I want to help others now. Your dad, I've always been after him to be more of a philanthropist. I think that stint in Africa pushed him in the right direction. Slowly."

Matt tapped his briefcase with a toe. Damn, even his feet were sexy.

"This deal will benefit a lot of people. And you know who really ends up feeling good?" He pointed to his chest. "Me, that's who. Doug is figuring that out too. When you give to others, you get ten times back. Why don't you come over here? Better view of the fire. I'll put another log on."

He stood and went to the fireplace. The guy moved like a person who knew exactly what he was doing at all times. Sure, and in control. What an odd combination of power and kindness. He picked up her empty glass, along with the bottle, and moved them to the coffee table. Had she already drunk a whole glass of wine? It rarely took more than one to make her tipsy.

"Come on, sit next to me. I won't bite." He refilled her glass.

Yeah, sure he wouldn't. Pushing away the image of his teeth on her dark skin, she rose and sat on the couch. Not terribly close.

"Tell me what you do for fun. I'll bet you don't spend all your free time hanging out with your friends. Doug says you're on your computer a lot. You don't strike me as a Facebook fiend, are you?"

"No, not that much."

"So, what do you do on your computer?"

Sara shifted on the couch. Those deep blue eyes of his seemed to burrow into her soul. That, along with the glass and a half of merlot, must be what made her blurt out a secret she told no one.

"I write romance books."

Instead of laughing, like Kyle had when she'd first told him, Matt merely nodded.

"I can imagine you doing that. I don't know you well, but from what I've heard from Doug, you're creative, smart, and look at the world from a different perspective than other people."

"My dad said that?"

"Not exactly, but I've picked up those images over the years. He talks about you a lot, doesn't even know he's doing it. He misses you."

Weird. This whole night had turned weird. Her father was a man she didn't even know, a half-way interesting guy who actually cared about her, and a super-hot friend of his was…touching her hand?

Yep. Matt ran a fingertip along the back of her hand that she'd rested on the edge of the couch. Little sparks of electricity leaped from his skin to hers. Part of her wanted to snatch her hand away, the other part longed to stroke the stubble on his face. It would feel rough, like sandpaper.