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eyes.

Her skin warmed as a slow blush crept into her cheeks. She could guess what it would have been like to ā€˜keep in touchā€™. His hands lightly caressing every inch of her skin, his lips trailing over her body, exploring her most intimate secrets.

As if sensing her thoughts, he reached towards her and cupped her cheek.

ā€œYouā€™re blushing. Still the same old Kara, huh?ā€

His low, husky voice rasped across her nerve endings. She yearned to lean into his hand, to seek the comfort only he could give.

Instead, she remembered a crushing kiss, frantic hands and then the powerful rejection that had lasted a lifetime. Matt Byrne had pushed her away in the cruellest way possible, belittling her to the point she couldnā€™t speak to him again.

Now, here he was, sauntering into her life like a superhero and acting the part: flexed muscles, broad chest, chiselled face, killer smile. All he needed was the cape and his underwear on the outside of his designer suit and the picture would be complete.

She stifled a chuckle. The underwear image did it.

ā€œWhatā€™s so funny?ā€ Mattā€™s hundred-watt smile faltered.

ā€œOld memories. You know how it is.ā€

ā€œI didnā€™t think our memories were that funny.ā€ He rubbed her upper arms, running his hands under the sleeves of her T-shirt. It was an intimate caress, one that frightened her with its power to arouse.

She pulled back before she did something stupid, like let him kiss her. Which was what he looked like doing, though she couldnā€™t fathom why.

ā€œAncient history. I hear youā€™ve moved on to bigger and better things. Youā€™re life as the corporate lawyer playboy must be filled with more excitement than old memories.ā€

His eyes narrowed, some of the light vanishing. ā€œDonā€™t believe everything you read. The media thrive on gossip to sell their print.ā€

ā€œYou must have shares, because your reported behaviour could sell a million copies alone.ā€

She sounded catty but couldnā€™t help the annoyance at some of his antics, if the newspapers were correct. Matt featured in the gossip columns on a weekly basis, an endless supply of beautiful women draped over his arm. And other parts no doubt. His reputation as a playboy was plastered all over the Sydney papers. Sheā€™d had a lucky escape. So why did she always screw up the newspaper in a tight ball and fling it across the room every time Matt Byrne and his latest acquisition were mentioned?

ā€œSpeaking of reputation, what are you doing here? Youā€™re the last man Iā€™d expect to see waltzing into a dating agency. Problem with your charm?ā€

Though her teasing was light-hearted, she noticed his smile waned. Matt wasnā€™t as cool as he pretended. Sheā€™d struck a nerve.

His laugh sounded forced. ā€œNothing wrong with my charms, Kara. You should know that.ā€

She could hardly disagree when he was standing right in front of her, resurrecting provocative memories sheā€™d successfully suppressed. Until now. ā€œSo, why are you here?ā€

ā€œBusiness.ā€ His reply was short, sharp and ominous.

Damn, Sally must be in more trouble than she thought if lawyers were already on her tail.

ā€œGo easy on her, wonā€™t you?ā€ she said, wishing once again there was something else she could do for Sally.

She didnā€™t understand his bemused expression but it gave her a chance to study him for a moment. His face was an intriguing combination of angles: smooth yet hard, straight yet curved. A faint stubble darkened his jaw, typical of his end-of-day growth. She once wouldā€™ve given anything to feel that stubble rubbed along any part of her body. Or all of it for that matter.

ā€œYou okay? You look flushed.ā€

Wrenching her attention back to the present, Kara knew she had to escape. Now. He still held a strange, hypnotic power over her. Sheā€™d always been prone to fantasies around him and it looked like nothing had changed. In nine, long years she hadnā€™t mastered her feelings where he was concerned. The years and countless dates since had done little to erase the memory of this man.

ā€œIā€™m fine. Great seeing you again, Matt. Hope whatever youā€™re here for works out.ā€

ā€œThanks, nice seeing you too. Perhaps weā€™ll catch up for a drink one day soon?ā€

She ignored her thudding heart. ā€œI donā€™t think so. Thanks anyway.ā€

She rushed out the door before he could respond. She shouldnā€™t look back. Heā€™d think she was still hung up on him.

Sheā€™d never been any good at listening to reason and risked a quick glance over her shoulder. He stared at her through the window. Funnily enough, he stood directly under the sign Matchmaker, which was emblazoned on the glass in ornate red lettering. No chance of that ever happening.

Matt Byrne, playboy extraordinaire, finding his perfect match and settling down? Not a hope in hell.

* * *

Matt stared at Kara as she bolted down the street. Sheā€™d grown up and then some. The statuesque, strawberry blond was all hot curves and big green eyes now. Not to mention everything else. Wow.

He often mingled with beautiful women. Intelligent, gorgeous women more than eager to spend time with him: lawyers, accountants, stockbrokers. However, none had captured his attention in a long time. Until Kara; a stunner, from her cat-like eyes to her shiny, reddish-blond hair that hung in a sleek curtain down her back.

Sheā€™d been a nice looking kid who had blossomed around the age of sixteen. He remembered their talks, the sharing of confidences, the easy friendship... then Kara had grown up. Almost overnight his hormones had shifted into overdrive and all he could think of every waking moment, and most dreaming ones too, was Kara.

Heā€™d wanted her with a fierceness that had scared him. He shouldā€™ve known better, being older, wiser, like a big brother to her.

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