Michael's Discovery - By Sherryl Woods Page 0,44
free?”
“I usually do laundry on Friday night.”
“Oh, please,” Kelly said, dismissing the feeble excuse. “You’re free. Meet me at Ryan’s Place at seven. It’s an Irish pub.”
“I know what it is, but why there?”
“Because it’s owned by Michael’s brother and it’s become the Friday night place to be for his family.” She gave her friend a wicked grin. “And for my brother.”
Moira, who was as confident about most things as any woman Kelly knew, regarded her uncertainly. “I don’t know. Won’t it be obvious that it’s a setup?”
“To my myopic brother?” Kelly scoffed. “Hardly. Don’t even think of arguing with me about this. I’m not taking no for an answer. Seven o’clock, and wear something blue. It’s Bryan’s favorite color, and you happen to look great in it.”
“Okay, fine. You win,” Moira finally agreed. “But I’m only saying yes so I can meet this man who has you taking crazy chances.”
“Of course you are,” Kelly teased.
“Just because you’re trying to fix me up with your brother does not mean you’re off the hook,” Moira insisted. “I’m still worried about you.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Kelly said. “I know exactly what I’m doing where Michael’s concerned.”
In fact, she was growing more and more certain of it with each passing day.
“So, you’ll do it?” Kelly was asking, as she massaged the taut muscles in Michael’s calf.
“Do what exactly?” he asked, trying to drag his attention away from the heat that was spreading through him with each strictly professional caress.
“Ask Bryan to join us at the pub Friday night,” she explained with obvious impatience. “Weren’t you listening to anything I said?”
“Every word,” he assured her. Most of them just hadn’t registered. It was impossible to concentrate when she was rubbing warm oil into his skin. He’d never thought eucalyptus to be an especially provocative scent, but he was rapidly beginning to change his mind. He forced himself to pay attention to the conversation. “This has something to do with your friend. What was her name again?”
“Moira Brady.”
“And Bryan knows her?”
“Yes, but he doesn’t pay any attention to her, at least not the way he should.”
“So, basically what you’re doing is matchmaking, and you want my help?”
“Exactly.”
“No way,” he said emphatically.
Her hands stilled, and Michael almost regretted being so adamant. Clearly she wasn’t pleased with his response.
“Why not?” she asked, her tone suddenly chilly.
“Because men don’t meddle in their friends’ love lives.”
“You don’t have to meddle. You just have to ask him to meet us at the pub. It’s not as if you’ve never asked him to join you there before.”
“Why can’t you ask him? Moira is your friend.”
“Because that’s too obvious,” she said impatiently. “Don’t you know anything?”
“Apparently not when it comes to matchmaking, thank God.”
This time when her hands stroked his leg, there was something far more sensual than therapeutic about it. Michael responded accordingly. He had to will himself to stop paying attention to those long, lingering strokes and concentrate on counting backward from a thousand. He was getting to be quite good at it.
“Michael, please,” she coaxed softly. “It’s not such a big deal. There will be a whole crowd of us there, right? It’s not as if we’re asking him to spend a deadly dull evening all alone with a total toad.”
Michael groaned. He was going to say yes eventually and hate himself for it. A few months ago he’d barely remembered Kelly’s existence and now he was considering conspiring with her against a man he’d always thought of as his best friend. He suspected traitors could fry in hell for less.
Kelly leaned closer, her breath whispering against his cheek. “Are you thinking about it?”
“How can I think when you’re all over me?” he muttered irritably.
She laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant that way,” he groused.
“No, I’m sure it wasn’t. But you are going to do this one tiny thing for me, aren’t you?”
He rolled over, dragging the sheet with him to cover his unmistakable reaction to her sneaky massage technique. “I’ll do it on one condition.”
“Great!” she said, obviously pleased.
“Hold on. You haven’t heard the condition. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me exactly what put this little scheme into your head. Have you ever fixed your brother up with one of your friends before?”
“No,” she admitted, looking decidedly uneasy.
“Then why now? Why Moira?”
“I think they’d be perfect for each other,” she said, sticking to her story.
Michael wasn’t buying it, not entirely anyway. “And you just reached that conclusion this