Flawed: A Love Letters Novel

by Kristen Blakely

  She stifled a giggle as the blond man razzed his opponents. The men on the other team bared their teeth at him like grumpy dogs, and then laughed at the trash talk. The blond man’s partner did not react; his lips did not even twitch.

  A waiter walked up to her. “Your drink, Miss Falconer.”

  She lifted a thin glass of mojito from the tray. “Thank you.” She took a sip. Almost perfect. It needed a touch more sugar cane juice and perhaps another mint leaf, gently bruised to release its essential oils.

  “Is it all right, Miss Falconer?” the waiter asked.

  “Yes, quite. Thank you.” She set the glass down on the side table and turned to see the blond man’s eyes on her. His gaze was steady and unapologetic.

  Hunk. Check.

  She smiled and waved.

  His grin flashed, bright and full, and he waved back. He nudged his partner and nodded in her direction.

  The dark-haired man glanced at Ariel. Their eyes locked for a split second.

  An electric current shot down her spine.

  She blinked. What the—?

  Shaken, she lowered her sunglasses and stared at him, but he had looked away. Without the bluish tint of her glasses, he leapt into focus. Smooth, bronzed skin stretched over a body that rivaled classical Greek sculptures. He might have been cute if he smiled, but at that moment, his lips were a straight, humorless line. His brow furrowed as he said something to his blond partner. His words were likely as sharp as his gesture was dismissive. He paced the sand with the grace of a panther and called out something, but the wind whipped the sound away before Ariel could make it out.

  Both teams returned to the game, competing with renewed focus. The ball flew over the net, the rhythm unrelenting until he leapt high into the air and spiked the ball down hard on the other side.

  “Yeah!” His blond partner high-fived him. “And it’s a wrap.” They exchanged a quiet conversation, and the dark-haired volleyball player’s glance flicked in her direction. The moment passed so quickly though that she wondered if she had only imagined it.

  The blond man jogged over to her. “Noticed you watching.” His grin displayed the flash of white teeth.

  “Thank you for the great view.” She extended her hand. “I’m Ariel Falconer.”

  “Colin Coleman.”

  Ariel glanced over her shoulder, and the well-trained Ritz-Carlton employee walked over to her. She looked back at Colin. “Can I tempt you with a drink?”

  “Only if you’ll let me buy you a drink after my game.” Colin looked at the waiter. “Just a bottle of water, please.” He smiled apologetically. “I have another game in a few minutes.”

  Ariel kept her gaze and her smile fixed on Colin even as her nerves shrieked a warning. With slow and deliberate nonchalance, she shifted her gaze to the dark-haired man who came up behind Colin. “And hello to you too.”

  The man didn’t smile, but Colin turned to introduce him. “My partner, Jake Hunter.”

  Both men were physically well-built, but Jake commanded her attention. Perhaps it was his unyielding sternness compared to Colin’s unfettered flirting. Perhaps something in her was reacting to something in him.

  “Ariel Falconer.” She held her hand out to him.

  His hesitation was almost too brief to be noticed, but she did notice it. As he reached out, she braced herself. Even so, their physical contact speared a jolt between her legs. Oh my God. The last time she had such a visceral reaction to a man was…never.

  “Would you like a drink?” she asked, impressed by the steadiness of her voice.

  Jake shook his head and glanced at his partner. “We’re starting in two minutes.”

  Her stomach clenched into a tangle at Jake’s deep, sexy baritone. Trying not to be obvious, she pressed her hand against her stomach to ease the knots.

  Colin nodded. “You’ll stay and watch?” he asked Ariel.

  “Of course.” Flirting with Colin was easy and safe. He didn’t set off the intense physical reaction. “I can’t find a better view for miles around.”

  “We’ll chat after.” He chuckled and followed Jake back to the sand volleyball court.

  The next match pitted Colin and Jake against a fresh set of opponents more skilled than the team they had faced earlier. The game was faster, the errors fewer. More people arrived to watch the match; two of them stood close to Lily’s lounge chair.

  “Damn, those guys are smoking,” a young man said. “They’re gonna rock the championships this year.”

  “I don’t think they’re going to get past Pete and Ryan,” the other young man said. “They need to smooth out—did you see that? It was Colin’s but he didn’t take it. If Jake had been any slower, they’d have been out.”

  “Excuse me,” Ariel spoke up.

  Two pairs of eyes turned to her.

  “This is my first live beach volleyball game, but you guys sound like you know what you’re talking about. You were saying something about Colin, Jake, and a championship?”

  “National circuit. Colin and Jake are the fifth-ranked pro team in the country.”

  “Pro?”

  The young man nodded. “They’re professional beach volleyball players.”

  “You mean they do this for a living?”

  “Well, some of us have day jobs. Unless you win every championship, it’s hard to live entirely off the winnings.”

  The other man shrugged. “Of course, any pro player who tells you he’s doing this for the money is lying. This isn’t football, basketball, or golf. Not too many endorsements to go around, and the pretty girls usually get those.”

  “Women’s pro beach volleyball?” she asked.

  The man nodded.

  Ariel glanced back at the court. Nothing against women in bikinis, of course, but she much preferred resting her eyes on a hard male torso.

  Particularly on Jake.

  The ball soared over the net, and he raced after it. He could have reached it, but he jerked to a stop and let the ball hit the sand. The referee blew a whistle and held his hand out to the other team.

  Jake stiffened. He stalked over to the referee. Ariel couldn’t hear what he said, but the tautness of his muscles as he gestured shrieked volumes.

  The man next to Ariel nodded. “It was a bad call. Jake was right. The ball was out.”

  His companion agreed. “Definitely out, but Marty’s a hard ass. He’s not going to change it; Jake ought to know better.”

  The referee shook his head repeatedly, but Jake didn’t back down. In the end, Colin had to pull Jake away. For a few minutes, the teammates huddled in quiet conversation. Jake, his hands balled into fists, cast furious glances over his shoulder at the referee.

  Ariel’s heart thumped harder and faster. Jake’s tension seemed to flash across the thirty feet that separated them. Whoa, girl. Ease off. You’ve only just met. It’s way too early to get sucked in.

  On the court, Jake nodded, his jaw clenched. Colin grinned, thumped him lightly on the back, and they went back to their positions.

  Ariel released her breath slowly. Her heartbeat steadied. “Is he always that intense?”

  “Jake? He’s always been intense, though he’s edgier recently. Olympic qualifications will be based on this year’s performance, so everyone’s a bit uptight, Jake more than most.” The man leaned forward to stare at the game. A smile hovered on his lips.

  Ariel glanced back at the volleyball court. Jake rushed toward the net and leapt high. For several moments, he seemed to fly through the air. His right arm pulled back. The torsion on his body rotated, and he swung his arm forward to slam down on the volleyball.

  It plummeted to the sand, crashing between the arms and bodies of the two men on the other team who had dived to stop it.

  “Yes!” The man next to Ariel punched his fist into the air. “Classic Hunter. Clean. Precise. Powerful.”

  “It’s his signature move—the spike from the end of the court,” the other man said. “It would be safer and smarte
r to just let the ball arc down and return it, but not Jake. Sometimes, he’ll rush the spike, and it almost always works. Damned hard to stop. I tried once.”

  “What happened?” Ariel asked.

  “I hit the sand and got the ball as it came down, but couldn’t control it. It went out, so the point went to Jake anyway. Could have sworn I heard my bones crack when that ball hit my arm.”

  “Wuss,” the other man said in a friendly way.

  With her new friends, Alex and Brad, providing a running commentary of the game, Ariel received a crash course on the rules of beach volleyball. As she observed the game, the differences between Colin and Jake quickly emerged. Colin played volleyball in the same easy and relaxed way he had chatted her up. He wasn’t beyond talking trash at the other team, but he drew laughter from everyone, including the other team.

  Jake, on the other hand, rarely spoke, not even to Colin. Steady looks and quick nods seemed to be all the communication they needed. He leaned forward on the balls of his feet, like a predator coiled for the perfect moment to strike. His attention was one hundred and ten percent focused in on the game.

  What would it be like to have all of Jake’s attention zeroed in on her?

  Suddenly, he turned his head to look in her direction. His dark-eyed gaze seemed to stare at her through her sunglasses. She shivered as a thrill of pleasure pierced her. It took effort not to squirm as she felt herself grow wet. Oh, God. Her visceral reaction to Jake was definitely going to be a problem. She would have to work harder to keep her head screwed on straight.

  Oh, wait. She was on vacation to screw her brains out.

  At that moment, the choices looked promising, and the decision seemed obvious.

  Colin behaved like a fun beach fling, which was exactly what she needed. Flirty. Easy-going. Zero complications.

  If Jake handled relationships the way he did volleyball, with the same intense hunger to win, he would be more trouble than she bargained for. He didn’t even look like he had a sense of humor. Too complicated, she decided.

  Regret coiled in her stomach. What a darned shame.

  The game ended in a tangle of bodies as both Colin and Jake dove for the ball and landed up slamming their skulls together instead. Ariel winced as Jake rolled onto his back and glared at the hapless ball as it rolled off the court. Teeth gritted and with a hand pressed against his temple, he shoved to his feet and extended a hand to Colin. She braced for an angry look or a sharp word from him, but Jake hauled Colin back to his feet and slapped him lightly on the back.

  Together they walked to the net to congratulate the winning team, and then Colin jogged over to her. “Hey, Alex, Brad.” He nudged his head, and the two men chuckled as they moved away.

  Ariel smiled at Colin, grateful that her sunglasses concealed her sideway glances at Jake as he lingered on the court, talking to others. “Good game.”

  “It was close.” He glanced at her empty glass. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  She looked down at her arm. “I think I’m done baking out here for the day. But you can buy me a drink tomorrow.”

  “I can do better than that. How about dinner and drinks tonight?”

  “Dinner?” She tipped her sunglasses down and smiled up at him. “Sounds great. Will you show me around town? I could use a local guide.”

  “Is this your first time visiting Fort Lauderdale?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re in for a treat, then. This is the best time of year to visit.” He grinned at her. “Shall I pick you up at six thirty?”

  “Sure. I’m just across the street at the Ritz. I’ll meet you in the lobby. Will it be dressy?”

  He moved his gaze across her body in slow and suggestive way. “What you have on right now is perfect.”

  “Really?” She strutted toward him, modeling her bright yellow bikini with a swish of her hip.

  Colin clutched his hands over his heart and dropped to his knees. His blue eyes lit to match the spread of his grin. “Jake won’t be pleased if you give me a heart attack.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Ariel leaned down to pat his cheek. She didn’t miss how his gaze lingered on the dip between her breasts. “Will your heart settle for skipping a few beats?”

  “Already skipped more than a few beats.” Colin pushed easily to his feet. “The restaurant is a few blocks down that way, across from the beach. A sundress or a beach wrap will do fine, but it could get chilly after the sun sets.”

  “All right. Six thirty. I’ll see you then.” She leaned in and brushed a kiss on his cheek. Colin smelled of fresh sweat and fading aftershave. It evoked images of a man hard at work—or play—out in the sun. The sexy image went well with his sun-streaked blond hair and baby blue eyes.

  Perhaps it wouldn’t be that much of a hardship picking Colin instead of Jake. He was cute, available, and obviously as eager as she was to score a home run.

  He would do just fine.

  As she turned to go, she caught a final glimpse of Jake. The immediate mass migration of monarch butterflies through her stomach made a lie of her thoughts. Damn it.

  Chapter 3

  Jake Hunter did not move from the volleyball court until Ariel walked away from Colin. His gaze followed her as she crossed the road and entered the Ritz-Carlton.

  Unfortunately, the air that had felt thick and heavy around him did not clear the way he had hoped even though she had left. He exhaled slowly, but it didn’t dissolve the hard knot in his stomach or ease the tension from his shoulders.

  What the hell was wrong with him? She was pretty, but not that pretty. He didn’t even know her.

  He shoved his towel into his duffle bag and walked up to Colin. “Good game.”

  Colin’s smile turned into a scowl. “Should have won the last one.”

  “We’ll need to work out the kinks before the Stockton tournament. Do you want to start earlier tomorrow?”

  “Sure.” Colin dragged his fingers through his hair and his toes through the sand.

  Jake stared at the scribble of sand art. “Spit it out,” he said.

  “Just piling on the hours during the weekend isn’t going to work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  A muscle twitched in Colin’s cheek. “If we want to qualify for the Olympics, we need more hours every day. Not just on the weekends. We gotta live each other. Breathe each other. You know other teams are putting in eight to ten hours a day.”

  “There aren’t eight spare hours a day on top of work and sleep, and not all of us are lucky enough to have an inheritance to live off.”

  Colin sighed. “Can’t you adjust your hours?”

  “The last time I did, my game went to hell. I need a certain amount of sleep to function.”

  “You could cut your hours at work.”

  “The bills have to get paid.”

  “No luck finding sponsors?”

  “No. But if you were prettier—”

  Colin laughed. “Maybe if you were prettier, you could pick up a sugar mama. They’re probably easier to keep happy than corporate sponsors. And speaking of pretty, that hot chick, Ariel Falconer, agreed to go out for dinner and drinks.”

  “You move fast.” Jake’s voice did not betray the sudden clenching in his chest.

  “Heck, I’m just going along for the ride. No point dragging my feet when the chick is slamming on the accelerator. Varoom.” He grinned and pumped his hips twice.

  Jake shook his head and turned away.

  “Hey, you should join us for drinks after dinner, say around eight thirty,” Colin said. “We’ll be at Sunshades.”

  “I have stuff to do. And I don’t want to intrude on your date.”

  “Just come by when you’re done with your stuff. It’s been a rough week relearning how to work together. We could both use a beer or two…or twenty.” Colin’s grin widened into a smirk. “And don’t worry. You won’t be intruding. I promise I’ll be the one to take her home.”

  The thought twist
ed Jake’s gut. Watching from afar while his partner got laid by the oddly compelling Ariel Falconer would be hard enough. Witnessing it up close was more masochism than even he could stomach. He shrugged. “I’ll think about it. You have a good one.”

  The walk back to his rented room in the Tarpon River neighborhood took a little over an hour through Las Olas Boulevard and the tiny business district in downtown Fort Lauderdale. He could have caught a ride home from one of the other players—many of them rented rooms or townhouses in Tarpon River—but he enjoyed the walk. It gave him a chance to stretch out his muscles and cool down after a full and hard day at the beach.

  He didn’t want to think about that woman on the beach. He didn’t even want to think about sponsors. He needed to empty his mind before the pressure crystalized and became permanent. In fact, he looked forward to an evening alone without having to deal with company or someone else’s expectations.

  Too quickly, the chaos of Las Olas and the business district gave way to the quiet charm of the River Walk. From there, it was a few short minutes to Tarpon River. He dug the key out of his duffle bag and unlocked the door of the townhouse.

  “Hey, man,” Pete, another pro volleyball player, called out a greeting from the kitchen. “How did your games go?” He shouted to be heard above the music booming through the house.

  “Won four, lost one.” Jake leaned his shoulder against the wall and looked out upon the ultimate bachelor pad and party house. The large space for the living and dining room was completely empty except for a massive sound system that belonged to Pete. The narrow kitchen had an eat-in bar and a refrigerator stocked with beer and microwavable meals.

  “Check this out, man.” Pete pulled open a cabinet door to display an impressive selection of liquors. “Also stocked up on the chips and guacamole. We are so set for the party tomorrow.”

  “It’s tomorrow night?”