Playing Dirty

by C. L. Parker

  Wow, it sure hadn’t taken me long to make the leap. I’d gone from “Hmm, that’s an angle I might be able to work” to “Yup, grabbing that bull by the horns and riding it all the way home” in less than five minutes. That had to have been a record.

  Denver gave me a wide, flirtatious grin and put his arm around my waist. “You know it, babe.”

  “Good. Don’t stay out too late. You’re going to need your rest.”

  I didn’t linger any longer, not even to rub the salt into Shaw’s newly inflicted wound. I’d done it. I’d crossed the line, and there would be no turning back from it now. I didn’t know how well I’d sleep that night after that, but I knew it would drive Shaw crazy trying to figure out what had just happened. Somehow, it made it all worth it. At least for now.

  My week just kept getting worse from there. On Wednesday morning, I avoided him well enough—face-to-face, that is—but there was still the pesky matter of my wandering thoughts and my body’s involuntary reaction to those thoughts. On more than one occasion I had to stop what I was doing and start all over again; I simply wasn’t processing the words I was reading.

  “Hello? Earth to Cass …”

  I’d zoned again and hadn’t even realized it. Shaking myself from the stupor, I looked at Ally. “Did you say something?”

  “Is everything okay with you? You seem a little off today.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just … you know, keeping late hours studying the Denver Rockford file. You know how anal I can be.”

  “Do I ever. I also know how anal you are about not being on time,” she said, tapping her watch.

  Checking the clock on the top right corner of my screen, I felt a jolt of giddy-up-and-go zip through me. I was late. Well, not late but not early, either. I might have closed my laptop a little harder than was necessary, and I was probably leaving something important behind as I shoved things into my messenger bag, but in less than ten minutes, I’d changed into attire that was appropriate for the outing with Denver and was out of my office and sprinting toward the elevator as the doors were closing.

  “Hold the door, please!” Hopefully, whoever was aboard wouldn’t be a jerk and pretend not to hear me.

  A masculine hand with a Rolex draped around the wrist reached out and stopped the door. I groaned to myself because I’d know that hand anywhere. More to the point, I’d know those long, thick fingers anywhere. Blindfolded and with a single touch from them. They were well skilled, and if the man attached to them ever decided to pick up playing guitar, I was sure he’d be a freak genius at it. But it was those delicious protruding veins that stole the show.

  Maybe it was weird, but I had a thing for veins. They showed virility, proof that the blood that pumped through them was strong and resilient. Since I’d come from an Irish family, it was in my DNA to search out those two traits in a man.

  The door pulled fully back to reveal Shaw standing there in all his arrogant glory, a wide grin plastered over his face. “This is a new look for you, Whalen. Is the world coming to an end?”

  He might have held the door, but he was still a jerk. It was a tank top and shorts, for Christ’s sake. No reason to be so dramatic.

  I gave him a sarcastic smile in lieu of words, since the only ones that sprang to mind were “bite” and “me,” and he might take them as an invitation. Not that he’d ever waited for one before. I should’ve walked away and opted for the next lift, but doing so would be like an admission of defeat. So I gave him a wide berth and moved to the farmost corner. Away from him. And then the doors closed, leaving us all alone. Great. Things always seemed to happen when we were left all alone.

  Closing my eyes to focus on what might be the most important task of my career, I managed to bring everything back into perspective. Denver Rockford was the only man I needed to have on my brain, and he wasn’t so much a man as the golden key to what had once been Monty Prather’s office suite. Eyes on the prize.

  “What are you and Denver doing today?” Shaw had his eyes on the prize, too.

  I knew the curiosity would kill him. But I wasn’t about to give.

  “I’ll share if you will,” I offered, only because I knew he wouldn’t. No doubt, he’d liquored up Denver at the pub last night in hopes of getting him to sign on the dotted line.

  Shaw’s smile was a nonverbal touché. He wasn’t stupid, and he knew I wasn’t, either. No matter how much he’d like for me to be.

  “You’re taking advantage of the man’s weaknesses. Low blow. I thought you were more of a goody-goody than that.”

  Well, that came out of left field. “Excuse me?”

  Shaw shrugged, his eyes doing a sweep of my body to take in my attire. “He thinks you have a banging body, and you’re capitalizing on it.”

  “He said that?” I realized a little late that I sounded hopeful and had to change it up. “Because if he did, I’ll have to set him straight and let him know that unlike you, I do not use my body to get ahead. I earned my position the old-fashioned way. Through hard work and perseverance.”

  Shaw stuffed his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.”

  I was stunned silent by his rudeness.

  He cocked his head, his eyes lingering on the exposed flesh of my legs and warming it. “Though I found his words to be less than poetic, I knew the point he was making. Of course he finds you irresistible. Like a siren, so much about you calls to a man, seducing him closer to imminent danger. But there’s a problem, a contradiction that causes a push and pull in the attraction.”

  I shifted, hoping the movement would divert his attention away from my hips. It worked, though the crossing of my arms only drew him to my breasts. “Not that I care about your opinion in the slightest, but it’s always good for a laugh. So what’s the contradiction?”

  Finally, he found my eyes, and the corner of his mouth lifted into that cocky grin. “The seduction only works as long as your mouth stays shut. Though I can think of at least one way you can and have put it to better use. But then maybe you were just using me as practice for the big game?”

  Smacking him across his stupid face for that comment would only give him the upper hand. Literally and figuratively. Thankfully, I kept my head about myself and saw the goad for what it was. Shaw wanted me to be upset. He wanted me to rant and rave and scream like a lunatic. But I wasn’t going to let him strip me of control.

  “You’re absolutely right. If I’d sleep with you, that must mean I’d sleep with anyone for any reason.”

  He shrugged. “Hey, who am I to judge? But just so we’re clear, seducing Denver is a cheat.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  “I’m beginning to think it’s your specialty. I’ve experienced it firsthand, so I know how potent your charms can be.”

  “Ha! I seduced you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And what purpose would that serve?”

  “To distract me.”

  “You’re distracted? That’s your excuse for falling short? Are you really that weak?”

  Before I could so much as blink, I found myself hoisted from the floor and pinned to the wall in an over-the-top show of strength.

  “I wasn’t talking about physical weakness, you brute.”

  Shaw grinned, proud of himself. His hands were like branding irons on the cheeks of my ass, the skin-to-skin contact made possible by the leg openings of my shorts. And then we both had a major realization at the same time. Only I was a little better about disguising mine, though probably not by much.

  Crap. I knew I’d forgotten something.

  Shaw’s jaw ticked with the grinding of his molars. “You aren’t wearing panties.” Another tick of his jaw. Did his nostrils just flare? “You’re going to meet Denver without panties on?”

  To be precise, I wasn’t wearing the bottoms to my bathing suit. In my hurry, I’d forgotten to put them on. But I was in a unique position to screw with Shaw’s head a little bit more, so
I took it.

  I threw his grin back at him. “Jealous?”

  He set me back on my feet as if that one word had scorched him. “No.” But he’d taken too long to answer.

  The elevator came to a somewhat jerky stop with the ding of a bell that seemed entirely too loud in the awkward space we’d created. I may never know why at that exact moment I was suddenly glad I wasn’t wearing any panties, but I was. Maybe it was because there was a sense of freedom about going commando. Something that put a little sultry pep in my step and gave me cause to wave the upper hand I’d been given. And so with no more than a confident smile, I said, “You should be.”

  Shaw

  As soon as the doors parted, Cassidy swept past me as if I weren’t even there.

  I guffawed at her rudeness before I realized the race she’d set in motion. Everything was still a competition, of course, and sometimes it was the small victories that really helped put things into perspective. So, naturally, my pace quickened and the race to the front doors was on. Damn her and her ability to make me act like a lunatic.

  Cassidy must have heard me approaching because she picked up the pace, doing that thing where you’re not sure if the person is walking really fast or jogging really slow. The stupidest part was that I did it, too. When we hit the revolving door at the same time, we came to a standstill. I was on one side and Cassidy was on the other, both of us unwilling to give in our effort with the door. Her to push through, and me to obstruct its movement and keep her from beating me. Either way, neither of us cared that we were drawing attention from a lobby full of people.

  “Let. Go!” Cassidy growled between clenched teeth. She shoved her full weight against the plane of glass.

  I’d barely been pushing against the gliding door, but when I saw how much effort Cassidy was putting into beating me, a wicked idea sprang to mind. San Diego’s sidewalks were crawling with hundreds of people going about their merry way, and it was only human nature for one to stop and take in another person’s humiliation if it happened right in front of their face. I was what one might call an opportunist, so there was no chance in hell I was going to let that go without capitalizing on it.

  “Fine,” I conceded with a polite smile.

  Then I stepped back quickly to clear the door and let it swing forward, sending an unprepared Cassidy stumbling onto the sidewalk, tripping over her own feet. To my dismay, a passerby caught her before she was sent careening to the hard cement. Okay, so I hadn’t really been out to cause her physical harm, but her utter embarrassment had certainly made my day.

  “You okay, lady?” I heard her human safety net ask just as I strutted out. With a chuckle, I might add, because damn right it was funny.

  Cassidy stood straight and glared daggers at me as I walked by. “I’m okay, thank you very much,” she said, and then she stalked off in the opposite direction while adjusting her ruffled clothes.

  Turning to head down a side street, I stopped when I knew I’d be out of sight but still have a vantage point to watch her without being seen. As soon as she was in her awaiting cab, I made a dash for the one on the corner and slipped into the backseat.

  “Follow that taxi,” I said, pointing in her direction. Whatever Cassidy Whalen was doing to schmooze Rocket Man, I was going to find out. And then I was going to top her.

  CHAPTER 9

  Shaw

  Topping Cassidy was going to prove harder than I’d thought. How the hell was I supposed to compete with a romantic picnic for two at the beach? Talk about unethical. Miss I-Do-Not-Use-My-Body-to-Get-Ahead was a liar, liar, bikini bottoms on fire. At least she’d managed to get those on before her seductive striptease from her shorts and tank top, during which Denver had been drooling like a cartoon wolf with tongue wagging and eyes popping out. I half-expected him to make it rain on her as if she were a dancer onstage at a seedy little club east of I-5.

  Denver had somehow sequestered a cozy, less touristy spot in a little alcove somewhere north of La Jolla. I knew because I’d followed them. And then I’d hidden behind a vine-covered oak tree amid some purple-and-yellow flowers that smelled decent but were also ground zero for a swarm of honeybees. They were pesky, but I was willing to leave them to their business of gathering pollen as long as they left me to my business of gathering intel. If only I could hear what was being said. From this distance, it was like watching the television on mute: I got the gist of what was going on, but some volume would’ve been nice. There was nothing I could do about it, though, unless I wanted to get caught. Which would defeat the purpose of my spying.

  For a couple of hours, I just sat and watched as the lovebirds ate fruit and cheese and drank wine while cozying up on a blanket for two under an oversized umbrella. It was hot, but the breeze from the ocean and the shade from the tree made it somewhat bearable. I’d taken my jacket off and rolled up my sleeves half an hour in, getting as comfortable as I could for who knew how long. Somehow, I was going to have to find a way to woo Denver back over to the Shaw side. As long as Cassidy kept throwing those tits around, it wasn’t going to be easy.

  I excelled at observation. It was the primary skill that had gotten me as far as I’d come in my profession. All those days and nights when I’d slipped into locker rooms or onto the sidelines, seat-hopping in the stands, working my way into parties in the clubhouse and sometimes even in the luxury suites had been made possible only by my ability to not draw attention to myself. Ford Field, the Palace, Joe Louis Arena, and Comerica Park: I knew the layouts of all of them like the back of my hand. They were my first, second, third, and fourth homes. And each one of them was better than the hellhole that should’ve been first on that list.

  A punk kid from Detroit sitting in a forgotten corner of a crowded stadium VIP box could learn a whole lot if he simply kept his mouth shut and paid attention to the way the big players worked the room. Owners, investors, agents, elbow rubbers, celebrities, athletes, potential recruits, and coaches … they all liked to talk. Mostly because they liked to show off. Whether it was their knowledge, physical skills, or wealth, it didn’t matter. I picked up on everything that counted until I’d learned enough to outtalk any one of them. I was good, and it paid off big-time.

  I caught my first break when Denarius Williams, a Pro Bowl cornerback with a wild streak, had let the time run down to seconds on the clock right before his deadline to choose a new agent. Smothered by the overwhelming attention he was receiving, he’d been unable to make a decision. So, on a whim, he’d consulted the nineteen-year-old with nothing to gain.

  “If you were me, who would you go with, kid?” he’d asked.

  “I’m not a ballplayer, so I don’t think I can answer that, Mr. Williams,” I’d told him.

  “Okay, fair enough. If you were one of them,” he said, pointing to the crowd of suits, “what do you think would be the best plan of action for me?”

  It was the first time anyone had ever asked my opinion, and I’d known exactly what to say. So I’d hunkered down into my own skin, shrugged off the intimidation I should’ve felt, and laid it all out on the line. At first, he was amused by my enthusiasm—clearly, nothing about that conversation had ever been meant to be taken seriously—but when I gave him a rundown of all his stats, specified the gaps in Detroit’s roster where he would be most beneficial, and spelled out the leverage that would be his for the taking while he was negotiating his contract, he got quiet. So did everyone else in the room.

  Denarius’s smile was back in place, only this time, it was because he was impressed. “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Shaw Matthews.” And that was the first time my name had meant something. Better yet, all those big deal makers now knew it.

  “Well, you might not play ball, Shaw Matthews, but you certainly know how to play the game. It’s too bad you’re not with any of these agencies, because you’ve got real promise.”

  “Who says he’s not with any of us?” One of the suits stepped in next to me and put an arm around my shoul
ders, extending the other toward Denarius, who took it warily. “Monty Prather of Striker Sports Entertainment. Shaw here is my personal protégé, a real gem I recently stumbled upon and took under my wing. He’s quite the prodigy, isn’t he? Makes me damn proud.”

  Denarius’s attention was back on me, his well-groomed hairline practically peeling away to reveal the wheels turning in his head. “Is that right?”

  I looked at the self-assured man at my side, prepared to out him at the slightest hint that he was working an angle he had no intention of following through on. I don’t know what it was about the nod and wink he’d given me, but I understood that Monty Prather was the future, my foot in the door that would’ve never been opened to me otherwise. So I took it.

  In that moment, the scared boy who’d come from nothing had morphed into a man determined to have it all. “Yes, sir, it is,” I’d said, beaming with confidence. “And we’d be honored to play the game for you.”

  Denarius had given a small chuckle and nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s play.”

  Monty had squeezed my shoulder with pride, and two weeks later, the tagline “Striker Sports Entertainment … Let us play the game for you” had been scrawled across the sign on the front of the building that served as ground zero for SSE. The following day, I’d been sent to Europe to learn the contract negotiating game with the foreign leagues, and Monty had stayed in constant contact with me, taking a personal interest like the father I’d never really had.

  Cassidy’s piercing squeal ripped me from my memories, and I looked up to see her running toward the water, with Denver hot on her heels. Well now, wasn’t that a page ripped straight out of a romance novel? Too busy frolicking to pay attention, Cassidy was caught unaware by the surf and knocked to her giggling ass on the sand, where she was pummeled by a wave. Served her right. But Rocket Man—oh, he was such the hero, swooping in and lifting her out of the water bridal-style, to save her from what? Getting sand in the crack of her ass?

  Pfft! I didn’t need to see any more. And I especially didn’t need to see the way Denver was leaning in for the kiss that would thank him for his bravery. It was so clear what was going on. Those two were a thing or were about to become one. Cassidy had Denver in the bag, and probably in the sack as well.