Dare to Tempt

by Phillips, Carly

  She added to the list. “Who else do you train with?”

  For the next thirty minutes, she wrote down the names of other team trainers, doctors, and players who were usually around at the same time as him. Knowing they’d revisit each person, she let him talk.

  “How about jealousy? Anyone you have issues with?”

  He treated her to his most winning smile. “Everyone loves me.”

  She frowned despite being drawn to that grin. “Be serious.”

  He sobered, his expression somber. “I’m damned serious. I don’t know anyone who dislikes me enough to sabotage my entire career.” He put his mug down and shoved it away.

  She felt bad for him and understood how much was on the line. “Okay, who would benefit with you out? Any other player?” she asked.

  He drummed his fingers on the table, then met her gaze. “No.”

  “Let’s move on to women. The paparazzi like photographing you with the various females on your arm. Did you dump any of them and piss them off?” She’d already done a quick internet search and knew he wasn’t the long-term dating type.

  “I hate to sound like a cliché but they know the deal before we go out. I’m not interested in a relationship.”

  She wondered why he didn’t want romantic entanglements, but it wasn’t part of her job description to ask. “I’d still like the names of the most recent women you’ve been with.”

  He rambled them off, then braced his hands on the table and stood. “And I’m finished for the day. There’s not enough coffee for this shit.”

  He rose, walking to the counter and putting his coffee cup in the sink.

  She gathered her things and rose to her feet. She’d peppered him with enough questions and had sufficient information to begin digging into the people he surrounded himself with. “I’ll let you get back to your day and I’ll be in touch.”

  “Sounds good.” He turned, folding his arms across that golden muscular chest. “Thank you, Evie,” he said gruffly.

  She nodded, understanding the depth of meaning behind the words. “I’ll work as quickly as I can. I know the appeal is going to come down fast.”

  “Yeah. It is.” His tone told her which way he thought the decision would go.

  A few steps ahead of her, he walked her to the entryway and opened the door, when she saw what looked like dark marks on the upper part of his back and shoulder.

  “What’s this?” she asked, coming up behind him and touching his skin, her body immediately reacting to his heat and masculine scent. “It looks like adhesive,” she said, her voice husky. She rubbed at the marks, and some residue came off on the pads of her fingers.

  “Probably remnants from the pain patch my trainer gave me. Now that I’m suspended, he said he’d meet me at his private office, not at the stadium,” he said, his upper torso shuddering at her touch.

  He turned slowly, placing one hand on the doorframe, blocking her in with his body, her nipples puckering at his warmth and closeness.

  “If you didn’t notice last night, you affect me, Evie. A lot. And if you keep touching me, I’m going to want to taste you again. So, if you want to have any hope of keeping this a purely professional, fake relationship, step back.”

  She swallowed hard, her mouth going dry at his sexually honest words, and she did as he suggested. She stepped back.

  “Umm … what are the chances you still have the patch?” she asked, her voice raspy as she brought them back to business. “I’d like to have it tested. See if there’s anything in the medication that shouldn’t be.”

  Surprise flickered in his expression. “As a matter of fact, it’s in the garbage upstairs. Hang on and I’ll be right back.”

  He headed upstairs and she leaned against the doorframe he’d used earlier, closed her eyes, and groaned. She’d thought this assignment would be easy. Help Damon find out who’d targeted him and set him up. Sure, she knew she was attracted to him, but she’d never thought the feeling was mutual.

  There was a part of her that resented the fact that he liked this Evie, the one who dressed for a part, not the woman she was beneath the makeup, spiral hair, and heels. Another part of her reminded herself it didn’t matter which Evie he liked because he didn’t do relationships and she’d sworn off men.

  Knowing how badly her judgment sucked with the opposite sex, she knew better than to let herself fall for the playboy who’d already made his lack of intentions with any woman clear.

  * * *

  After Evie left, he didn’t have much to do. He couldn’t work out, not with the way his head felt. Instead he decided to sit outside and get some sun. He changed into a pair of shorts and headed out back. He settled on one of the recliner chairs in his fenced-in yard, free from paparazzi unless they were hanging from the trees above, and let out a groan.

  Trying to relax when his world was in upheaval wasn’t easy, but he managed to do some deep breathing exercises he’d learned and calmed down, dozing beneath the hot sun.

  The sound of his cell ringing woke him, and he grabbed for the phone, unsure how much time had passed. “Yeah. Hello.” He answered without checking the screen because the sun’s glare prevented him from seeing who was calling.

  “Hello?”

  “Damon!” Bri’s voice sounded in his ear. “Have you seen social media?”

  “No. Been napping and I can’t see out here. I’ll go inside. What’s going on?” He swung his legs over the side of the lounge.

  “You and Evie went viral. There’s a pic on TNZ’s Instagram of you two in the doorway of your house this morning. Who’s the woman seen leaving Damon Prescott’s house early this morning after a hot night?” Bri asked in a faux-journalistic type voice.

  “What the hell? She came over this morning to talk. She didn’t stay over last night.”

  “Well, guess what? Better they be speculating about your love life than whether you used PEDs. And that picture? Evie’s hands all over your bare back? Whew.” He could imagine her waving her hand in front of her face. “There’ll be no doubt in anyone’s mind what’s going on between the two of you.” Bri sounded downright gleeful.

  He didn’t mind that the press had picked up on his fake relationship with Evie. That had been the point. He just hadn’t been paying attention to the cars outside his house and he should have been more aware. He wanted to control the pictures that got out and not the other way around. It pissed him off the way they used their long lenses and invaded his fucking privacy. He hadn’t been prepared.

  But the more he considered it, he realized Evie had thought ahead. Her outfit today had been hot. Those jeans molded to her long legs and ass, and her sexy heels weren’t her usual scuffed boots. She looked every inch a pro player’s girlfriend, which caused him to frown. Because Evie wasn’t typically an expensively adorned female. And as much as he admired the new Evie, he had to admit he’d liked the old one as well.

  “Damon, are you okay?” Bri asked more seriously.

  “I’m doing the best I can. Resting a lot because my head still hurts.”

  “Good. Keep me posted. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” He disconnected the call and opened his browser, pulling up the site Bri had mentioned.

  Sure enough, he and Evie were on the main page. Her body was aligned with his, bringing back the memory of her warmth and fragrant scent, and though she hadn’t known it, his cock had reacted. He’d been hard as a rock, and the excuse to go find the pain patch had helped him calm the fuck down. Another glance at the picture and he saw her hand on his shoulder, the way her head tilted toward him. Yep, it looked real.

  And damned if it hadn’t felt real in the moment, too.

  * * *

  Evie had left Damon’s, aware of the paparazzi snapping photos of her through the windshield. She’d put her sunglasses on as she walked out of the house and climbed into her car, ignoring them but knowing she’d probably opened Pandora’s box and bracing herself for the fallout.

  Once in th
e car, she’d called a friend who worked in a lab and arranged to drop off the patch she’d taken from Damon’s back and asked for a quick turnaround on the results. He promised to do what he could, and she stopped at his place of work on her way home to hand over the Ziplock with the medication patch inside.

  Later that morning, she sat in her home office with the names Damon had given her on a sheet of paper. Using her search browser, she began researching the people in his life, one by one. She began with the backup quarterback, because he had the most to gain by Damon’s suspension, and pulled up his profile page on various social media sites, along with doing some basic research.

  Gregory Emerson was the son of Dr. Lyle Emerson, the chair of Duke University School of Medicine, the top of his field in pediatric oncology. A position she assumed he hadn’t achieved with ease. A little more research showed the man’s mother was an investment banker at Circle One Investments, also top of the food chain. High achievers, both of them.

  She gave the information some thought. Did that mean Damon’s teammate was a spoiled brat in disguise? Or did he just want to make a name for himself on his own, and if so, how far would he go to do it? Or was he a legitimately good guy as Damon thought?

  She made some notes just as her phone rang and she glanced at the screen. “Hi, Bri.”

  “Hi, my newly infamous friend.”

  “What do you mean?” Evie turned her attention to Damon’s trainer, Jimmy O’Roarke, typing in his name.

  “I mean, open up TNZ and look at the main photo on the home page.”

  She changed her search, her fingers flying across the keyboard, and she looked at her screen. “Oh, shit,” she said, staring at a photo of herself in Damon’s doorway in an extremely intimate-looking position. Only she knew she’d been checking the adhesive on his skin. To everyone else it appeared as if she was reluctant to leave and had sidled up close behind him, her face and lips close to his back and neck.

  “It’s actually good news. You two pulled it off. TNZ is probably figuring out who you are as we speak, and now you can go anywhere with him and it won’t seem odd. Get your list together and somehow we’ll try and get you to meet the people you suspect as having something to do with Damon testing positive.”

  “Okay.” A beep signaled another call was coming in. “Bri? I need to take this call. I’ll get back to you later.” She disconnected and glanced at her phone, immediately taking the call. “Damon?” She was surprised to hear from him despite the fact that they’d exchanged numbers last night.

  “Hey,” he said. “I suppose you’ve heard the news?”

  “That we’re an item?”

  “TNZ posted it on their site and every social media outlet they have a presence on. The fans took it from there. We’re viral.”

  “And you? Did you share the information about us on your page?”

  He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “No, I figured we can take a picture together and announce things our own way.”

  She laughed. “I like the sound of that.” She could use some control in her life, and this would be one way of taking some back. Even if it was for the job.

  A knock sounded at her door, and she walked across the apartment to answer it, wondering who would show up without calling first. She looked through the peephole, but no one was there. Frowning, she opened the door and caught sight of a box left right outside.

  Still standing in her doorway, she knelt down and picked up the long box.

  “So, I was thinking we could get dinner and talk about who could have framed me some more,” Damon was saying as she lifted the top off the white box.

  “I—” A familiar spray of yellow roses, her favorite, was in the box.

  John used to send her yellow roses. Before she could process that thought, a garden snake popped out of the long green stems. The unexpected sight caused her to scream and drop the box along with the phone and back away from the gift that had been clearly meant to catch her off guard.

  “Evie!” she heard Damon yell from her phone.

  Shit. She picked it up and spoke to him. “I’m here.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.” She was a private investigator he’d hired. No reason for him to think she couldn’t handle herself.

  “Bullshit.”

  “I saw a snake,” she said, figuring that would end that.

  “Inside your house?” He sounded skeptical.

  She bit the inside of her cheek.

  “What’s your address? I’m coming over.”

  “What? No.” She didn’t need hand-holding.

  She’d just been shocked, which had no doubt been John’s intent, but she’d moved since he’d bothered her last. And now he’d found her and the harassment was starting all over again. He resented the fact that he’d lost his job thanks to her, lost his license as an attorney, conveniently ignoring the fact that he’d physically hurt her. But he’d pulled enough strings to get himself off with some slick deal. Somehow.

  “I can call Bri and get your address,” he reminded her.

  “You’re overreacting.” She glanced at the gift, and since the snake was still wrapped in the flower stems, she had no intention of picking it up. She quickly put the top of the box back on.

  Inside she was still shaking, and she didn’t doubt he heard the fear and panic in her voice. Her hand went to her arm, the reminder that John’s pranks could escalate quickly.

  “I’m waiting.”

  “Fine,” she muttered and gave him her address. “It’s a garden apartment. I’m on the fourth floor. Four oh two. The top floor.”

  “See you soon.” He disconnected the call and she slammed her door shut, not wanting to give the snake the opportunity to come inside.

  Either snake. Her ex or the slithering reptile outside.

  * * *

  Evie’s scream still reverberated in Damon’s ear, sending chills through his body. He didn’t give a shit if he had concussion symptoms, he needed to get to her. He had a mother and a sister. He knew when a woman screamed in shock over a bee, a bug, or a snake. He also knew terror when he heard it. So he didn’t think he was overreacting heading over to Evie’s apartment. He needed to find out what had happened to cause her to shriek loudly and come back to the phone, her voice still trembling.

  He pulled into a visitors’ parking spot and jumped out, locking his McLaren and shoving his keys into his pocket. She lived in a pretty yellow garden apartment complex with catwalks that overlooked the parking lot. Instead of waiting for the elevator, he ran up the stairs, fuck the pain in his head, to the fourth floor and followed the signs to the left.

  Her apartment was close to the elevator, and a box sat outside the door. He walked over and kicked off the top, finding yellow roses and the snake Evie had seen. At a glance, it was a harmless garden snake, but the roses were carefully packed up and delivered. The reptile hadn’t gotten in there by mistake.

  Ignoring the box for now, he knocked on the door. “Evie? It’s me. Open up.”

  He heard the deadbolt unlock, and she pulled the door open, peeking through the crack before swinging it wide. She faced him, her skin pale. She’d changed from this morning’s outfit into a pair of tight leggings and a hooded sweatshirt, looking more like the Evie he knew.

  A pang hit him at the vulnerable way she hugged her arms around her chest.

  “Come in. Watch out for the snake.”

  He frowned. “Get me a garbage bag,” he said.

  He gathered everything into the bag, let the snake go at the far side of the building into bushes that led toward a copse of trees, and he threw out the flowers in the trash chute. Then he sauntered back upstairs to find out what the hell was going on.

  He found Evie curled up on the sofa, a blanket over her legs. Eyeing her warily, he walked over and sat down at the far end of the couch. “Lock the door,” she said, tilting her head.

  He did as she asked, making sure to flip the deadbolt, wondering if she was always this ca
reful or if that package had triggered her.

  “Want to tell me what happened?” As opposed to asking if she was okay.

  Evie needed to be seen as tough, and he had no desire to prick that exterior and watch her bleed. He had too much respect for her to do that.

  She swallowed hard, her slender throat moving up and down as she watched him, clearly wondering how much she wanted to reveal. “I had a bad relationship,” she said, obviously reluctant to discuss her past.

  “How bad?” He’d pull the information out of her piece by piece if he had to.

  She worked her jaw before speaking. “Bad enough that I had to involve the police, get a restraining order, which has expired, and eventually move from my old apartment to here.”

  He curled his hands into fists at his sides, angry that someone would threaten any woman, but especially someone who was his to look out for. He might have fought this fake relationship in the beginning, and they might only be twenty-four hours in, but from the moment she’d sealed her lips over his, he’d felt protective of her.

  He glanced her way, watching as she plucked at a thread on the blanket, her dark hair falling around her face.

  “How long has this been going on?” he asked.

  She raised her gaze. “It stopped after I moved six months ago.”

  “And what makes you so sure the gift was from him?” he asked, using the word with deliberate sarcasm.

  “He used to buy me yellow roses. And he knows I hate snakes.” She shuddered at the mention of the reptiles.

  “Shit,” he said, running a hand through his hair as he realized his mistake.

  “What’s wrong?” She shifted in her seat and stretched out her long legs.

  He groaned. “I shouldn’t have rushed to toss the evidence.” But she’d been upset and freaked out, and he’d wanted her to feel safe. Besides, he hadn’t had a heads-up that he might need to save or search the box. “Was there a note?”

  “I couldn’t bring myself to look. Snake, remember?” A wry smile lifted her lips.

  “I think we should call the police,” he said, aware at least from procedurals on television it was important to keep a record of the incident.