by Murphy,Misti
I swing the club over my shoulders and stretch while I watch the ball go straight into the short length of plastic. Although whatever is going on with her isn’t my problem. It was her decision to come with me after all. “Hole in one.”
“Hmm,” she says, setting up her ball. Swinging her hips a little, she lines up her stick and eyes the path the ball must travel.
She isn’t terrible. I’ll give her that. Popping my stick down, I move behind her. “You need to straighten your arm a tad.” I touch her elbow. “Let me?”
She nods, her gaze on where I’ve settled my hand, and for the first time I don’t want to push her buttons. Instead, I get this urge to move tentatively. Normally I tear through obstacles, beat my head against figurative brick walls until they cave. And I’ll continue to do so until the day life stops inspiring me to hit new peaks, but right now I can’t imagine anything better than lingering.
Sliding my fingers down to her hands, I take a step closer. There’s this gap between us, but her scent still settles in my nose. I don’t think I will ever be able to look at raspberries without remembering the time I was insane enough to agree to a cute little journo’s request.
“Grip the club like this.” I adjust her hands, then linger over the smoothness of her skin while I straighten her arms. Stepping back, I grip her waist and adjust her stance. “Visualize where you want the ball to go.”
“Now?”
“Yep.” I turn away as she swings. It’s too quiet here, too empty. I need people around, need noise. That’s what this unsettled feeling is. It has nothing to do with the peculiar girl behind me. The one who’s going to do my head in for the next couple months.
She yelps. “I got it. I got a hole in one.”
“That a girl.” I grin at her, grin because she’s bouncing up and down with excitement. Puff up because something as simple as straightening her arm has that tight lipped expression wiped from her face.
Then she goes in for a high-five, and I meet her slap. Her fingers curl over mine, her eyes going wide. Waiting for her to move away, I freeze. But she doesn’t. She tugs that bottom lip between her teeth, glancing at our hands. It’s the oddest thing, but I want to wrap my hand around hers and pull her into me, kiss her. Yeah, I fucking want to kiss this girl. And not some half-assed attempt like the first time, but a full winding of fingers through her hair while I steal her breath from her lungs.
I shake it off, drop her hand like it scorched me. “Let’s go get some food.”
“But we haven’t finished the course.” Cocking her head to the side, she frowns.
“Another day. We’ve got months. I’ll make you a pro in no time.” I gather up the balls and my stick. “I’m starving. Aren’t you?”
***
“Give me your phone.” I hold my palm out to her, while we sit in the car outside a grocery store.
“Why?” She pulls it out of her bag and hands it over.
Pulling up memos, I type out a quick list. “Scavenger hunt.”
“What do you mean, scavenger hunt?” She gingerly takes her phone back and glances over the words I’ve written. “You’re kidding, right? A goldfish in a bottle of water, a bangle made out of a fork, a white rose with pink tips? You don’t actually expect me to find those things in there do you?”
“Magic, sweet cheeks.” I remind her, wriggling my fingers in front of her face. “I’ll get the food. You find the things on the list.”
“Are you trying to entertain me, or yourself?”
“Does it matter?” I jump out of the Jeep and wait for her to join me on the pavement. “Think about it as keeping me sharp.”
“Fine.” She does this funny eye roll I’m not sure she realizes she’s done. “But I’m not here for your amusement.”
“That depends on how you look at it.” I sling an arm around her shoulder. “You see a two-month interview. I see an entertainment buffer to keep me from doing something stupid in my hometown.”
“Like what?” The doors open in front of us. “I mean they’re your family. What could you do that you need an intermediary when it comes to them?”
“You’d be surprised.” I chuckle. Truth is probably not a lot these days. I think I did my worst when I involved myself in Chelsea and Mace’s relationship. But going home is always this strange mix of longing to stay still, and irritability over having to stand still. Add the whole pish-posh of my siblings splitting off to create their own little family units, and my knee jerk reaction is to get myself into whatever mischief I can.
“Right, so do I need to give you a couple minutes to get your tricks done?”
I stride around her, heading straight for the fridges along the back, although I deal with the rose in a fluid motion she doesn’t notice. The thing is a lot of my magic is tricks, learned and perfected over the years. And then there’s the magic that isn’t faked. There’s a certain leeway in the universe that can be monopolized when one knows what they’re doing. A certain way of convincing people that what they see is truth when it’s actually a lie.
I trail my fingers along the glass fridge doors. “Better get to finding the things on the list. I’ll meet you up front in five.”
She gets to the register as I finish paying. “I can’t find your damn rose.” The bottle of water and the bent fork in one hand, she continues to scan the store, even though she’s pretending she isn’t. “I give up. I can’t believe I even looked.”
“Really?” I scrape a few strands of her hair behind her ear and grip the back of her head. “You looked for the same reason people flock to my shows. They want to believe in the different, the extravagant, the unexplainable. It’s a beauty they can’t explain away with logical thinking.” I step back. “You might want to look at your hair.”
Her hand goes to the back of her head, and then slowly, once she realizes the flower is not where I touched her, she looks at her braid. Picking the rose from where the hair tie is, she stares at it in wonder. “Oh.”
She’s strangely beautiful, her lips parted, her eyes wide, and no trace of her earlier despondency that was driving me crazy.
Job done.
***
Once we returned to the house, Maxi took her laptop out to one of the deck chairs near the pool while I got to work in the kitchen. It didn’t take long to throw together a lasagna and salad, then I grabbed a beer and set my ass on the counter near the window so I could watch her. I don’t know what it is with this girl that’s not normal.
She swats at a bug with a yelp, and the laptop slides dangerously close to falling from her lap. Both hands swinging, she manages to catch it while chasing whatever insect is attacking her. I chuckle into the neck of the bottle I’m drinking from. I don’t think I know anyone like her. Jumping to my feet, I snatch another beer from the fridge and head outside.
She looks up at me when my shadow falls across her. Just kind of stares for a moment before closing her laptop and setting it aside.
“How’re the notes coming?” I hold a beer out for her.
“Do you think you can ever know enough about someone?” Taking it, she uses her dress to twist off the lid. “I know nothing about you. Not really.” She runs her gaze down my chest. “Other than you’re a kick ass magician and you like to be naked.”
“You know more than you think you do.” I sit down near her feet. They’re long, and narrow, her toenails painted pale pink.
“Do I?” She pulls her knees up, and I get a flash of pink between her legs. Her cheeks flush instantly while she yanks at the hem of her sundress.
“Sure do.” I crack my knuckles, so I don’t put my hands on her knees and nudge them apart. It’s the elusiveness, the challenge that gets me hard. Not her. “You know I want you on my dick, and that I can make you laugh.”
“Are you going to slip your dick in every chance you get?”
“Ah yeah.” I don’t try to fight the smugness that makes my lips twitch as I give another glance to the hem of the dress she’s tugging on so tight
ly. “As many times as you’ll let me.”
“I-I meant in conversation.” She crawls backwards as though she wants to run away from me.
Time to change the topic perhaps. “Also, I like water, so how about we go for a swim?”
“But it’s cold.” Staring at the pool, she hunches her shoulders like it’s dropped ten degrees with the mere mention of swimming. “I’m not going in there.”
“It’s a good thing I have another pool then.” I get up and offer her my hand.
“Where?” She looks around us. “In your back pocket?”
“No.” I lead her back inside, through the house to the far end where I have an indoor pool about half the size of the one outside. It’s not great for laps, but it’s perfect for what I have in mind.
“Gee, you must really like getting wet,” she exclaims.
“Both in and out of the water.” I laugh. Does she have any ideas how dirty her innocent remarks sound? Pushing her past the idea of thinking I’m just like her drummer, and convincing her she wants me to fuck her is going to be fun. Shucking my pants, I sprint for the salty, warm water and dive in.
“Are you coming?” Breaking the surface, I scrape my wet hair back, water dripping down my face.
“I think I’ll stay dry.” Laughing, she takes a seat on the edge of the pool and dips her feet in the water.
“There aren’t any sharks.” I splash her. “Only me.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she retorts.
“Of me? Or the fact that I’m half-naked, and if you get in here, you’d be pretty damn close to naked, too?”
“Do you do this kind of thing all the time?” She sets her beer down next to her thigh. “Or do you keep to back room wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am with the women you date?”
I kind of want to be that bottle, touching her leg like that. “That’s a question? Are you going to put the answer in your article?”
“Maybe.” She grips the edge of the pool and shrugs.
Swimming over to her, I grip her knees. “Get your ass out of that dress, and into the water, then I’ll answer you.”
Furrowing her brow, she gazes over my shoulder, doing that weird vacant thing she does. I’d love to know what the hell that’s all about. “Hey, come on. It’s only wet.”
“Okay.” She bites her lip, her voice a bit breathless. “But you need to look over there.”
“You’re kidding me?”
She shakes her head from side to side. “Just do it.”
“Whatever.” I turn my back on her, listening keenly for any sound of her stripping out of her dress. Of course, I get nothing.
Until she touches my shoulder. “Okay, you can answer the question.”
Unhurriedly, I turn around. Her dark hair hangs in a straight curtain around her, the ends floating in the water. She’s still wearing her sundress so her body is covered, but if she’s trying to hide anything she fails miserably. The wet cotton clings to her, almost see through, and water isn’t exactly a dense liquid, nor a solid color, so I get a good glimpse of the pink bikini under her dress and the curves it encases. God, she’s like a damn magic trick with the way she’s managed to hide them. “You’re still wearing your dress.”
“So?” She shrugs.
“Normally people take off their clothes before swimming.”
“Do they? I don’t think wearing a dress is any different from swim shorts and a T-shirt.” She tilts her head to the side, feigning ignorance at the oddness of getting in the water fully clothed when she’s wearing her bikini underneath, and then she sinks into the water until it’s up to her chin. “Now answer the question.”
“I’m the backroom guy. And I don’t date.”
“When was the last time you did?” She splashes water at me.
“Honestly?”
“No, make up some elaborate story for my entertainment.”
“I don’t date. It’s probably been ten years, or about that.”
She shakes her head and laughs. “I didn’t actually want the elaborate story. What’s the real answer?”
“That’s the truth. Put it in your article. Rush Hadley doesn’t date.” It irritates me that she doesn’t take me at my word, or maybe it’s the fact I can see the shadowy outline of her nipples through her bikini, and I want to see more. Grasping her hips, I pull her out of the water and toss her over my shoulder.
Spluttering, she comes to the surface. It takes her a minute to catch her breath, before she snaps at me. “Ass.”
With a grin, I glide through the water to where she is and slip an arm around her to cover one ass cheek with my hand. The thin material’s edge under my palm, the idea of slipping my fingers beneath it is almost too irresistible. “Quite a sexy ass, I must admit.”
“Oh my God, you.” She slaps her hand, coming at me.
Taking her face between my hands, I pull her onto my chest. I didn’t imagine it was possible for her to go the same bright pink as her bikini, but apparently I was wrong. “You’re really quite pretty when you’re worked up, but such a prude.”
“Stop calling me that.” She huffs.
“Does it offend you, sweet cheeks?” I have a good hold on her, and she’s worked up enough she’s not trying to push me away. “Is it because I’ve gotten you wrong, or a little too right?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Twisting in the water, I bring her between me and the edge of the pool, imprisoning her with a knee between her thighs while I trail my fingers over her throat, which flexes under my touch. “When was the last time a man touched you, beautiful?”
“It’s none of your business,” she grinds out between her teeth, squirming to get away from me, but only managing to rub against my knee.
Oh man, the look, the way her eyes pop and her breath catches. The sudden darkening of her eyes as she rocks on my leg, and the way her jaw slackens as she realizes her mistake. That she’s aroused, wet even… and not just from the pool water. It’s instant gratification like I’ve never experienced. My dick throbs, but I could care the fuck less as I lean into her and grip the back of her neck, pulling her in a way that has her sliding up my thigh. “I’m guessing it’s been far too fucking long.”
“A year, okay?” She gasps. “It’s been a year. Is that what you wanted to hear? You think I’m a goody-two-shoes because I don’t want to sleep with every dick that gets swung my way.” Pushing at my chest, she tries to disentangle herself without contact with my leg, but doesn’t quite manage it. A low whimper whistles between her lips. “Just because I’m not like you doesn’t mean——”
Those fuck me lips. They part beneath mine with a garbled squawk, and I thrust my tongue into her. Damn, she’s an irresistible wild cat when she’s chewing me out. I don’t fucking understand it. And she doesn’t even hesitate with my mouth on her, though she’s tentative to begin with. I expected her to freeze up, or beat her hands against my chest, or something. Instead, she kisses me back. She fucking kisses me as if this was her idea. As if she was the one that initiated it. Her hands gripping my hair, levering her up so she can ram her tongue in my mouth. Her lips glued to mine, she moves desperately.
I’m the one who pulls back first, the one to let go. I’m the one left breathless as though I’ve come through a tornado, while she licks her swollen lips and stares at me like I’ve given her the biggest surprise of her life. Well, fuck me, if that doesn’t take the cake.
Chapter Nine
Maxi
Ugh. My phone is making a racket on the nightstand. I reach one hand out from under the sheet and grope around, knocking it to the floor. “Shit.”
It’s still going off, and I peel the sheet off my head, diving for the edge of the bed. My legs all tangled, I misjudge the distance and fall on my face. The screen blinks right in front of me when I open my eyes. Ah, there you are.
Snatching it up, I press it to my ear. “Hello.”
Silence.
I fumble with the screen, to s
ee who I missed. Eliza’s number lights up. Great, just great. Calling her back, I twist while I tug at the sheet still wrapped around my legs until my ass finally hits the ground, then I scramble up. “Sorry. It’s really early here. What’s going on?”
“I wanted to see how you’re getting along with the Magic Man. We need to start working on a campaign for this issue.” She shrieks. “I can’t believe you landed this interview, but I knew if anyone could it would be you.”
There’s a knock on the door, and I startle. “Who is it?”
“Who else would it be?” Rush calls out. “Can I come in?”
“Um, oh, sorry.” I make my way toward the door, Eliza still prattling in my ear. Passing the wardrobe, I get a glimpse of my reflection and scream.
“Are you all right?” Both ask in unison. Rush cracks the door a little.
“I’m putting you on speaker,” I tell Eliza, and drop my phone on the bed without taking my eyes off my reflection. What the hell is this? Since when did I get a role on the walking dead? “Don’t come in. I-I…shit.”
“Are you doing that thing you do?” Eliza asks.
“What thing she does?” Rush enters the room, his eyes widening, and his nostrils flaring as he takes in my sorry state.
I pull a breath in and blow it out. I can look like a professional, even when I’m a matted, twisted mess of hair and clothes, and I have panda eyes for days. A professional zombie.
“Nothing. Isn’t that right, Eliza?” Tugging my fingers through my hair I try to deal with the insanity happening on top of my head. Stupid lack of sleep, and dumb dreams about a man who is looking at me funny right now.
“That thing where she gets in her head and freaks out.” Eliza chuckles.
“Oh.” He narrows his gaze on me. “Actually that makes a lot of sense. The whole staring off into space.”
