by Lily Harlem
I pushed at him, twisted my body and was thankful when he released me. “Go,” I said, biting back a rush of regret. If only he’d come into my life several years down the line, maybe things could be different. “Go, or I will have to call security and have you hauled out.”
He huffed and grabbed his jacket. “Yeah, you try that, but the way my life is going they’ll probably think you’re more of a danger to me than I am to you.”
I cocked my head, wondering what he meant.
He frowned and turned, reached for the door handle.
I pressed my fingers to my lips. “Wait,” I gasped, staring at several scarlet dots seeping into the stark white of his dress shirt, right over his shoulder blades. “Shit, sorry, you better put your jacket on.”
He twisted to look at me, confusion etched on his face. “Why?”
I held up my hands, wriggled my fingers so my long nails caught the light. “You have spots of blood on the back of your shirt.”
“Perfect, absolutely fucking perfect,” he muttered and disappeared out of the office, banging the door behind him.
Chapter Two
“Maddie, Maddie, where is the damn file?” I asked two days later, handbag swinging from my shoulder and laptop case clutched beneath my arm.
“Here.” She pushed a slim new file forward and I grabbed for it. “You’re not going to bother driving all this way back afterward are you?”
“No.” I glanced at my watch. “I’ll finish my emails at home.”
“Good, then I’ll lock up in half an hour after I’ve sent these potential venues to the Callahans.”
“Yes, great, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Yep, and good luck.”
I paused in the doorway. “Why would I need luck?”
“Well, from Carly Flannigan’s phone call this morning, she wants her engagement party pulled together in less than two weeks.”
I blew out a breath. “Yes, I know, as if we haven’t got enough going on. But still, we can’t turn away business.”
“Absolutely not,” Maddie agreed with a grin. “Now go, boss, or you’ll be late.”
I strode across the lot, beeping my Mercedes to life. I had seriously considered, for the first time ever, turning down this job. Carly Flannigan and The Brick’s engagement party would inevitably include an invite to a certain hot hockey captain who’d made me fall off the celibacy wagon. Fall off so spectacularly that by the time I’d realized I’d hit dirt it had driven into the damn sunset leaving nothing more than a trail of dust in its wake.
But I’d decided the answer was to send Maddie to attend this particular party. That wasn’t Best Laid Plans’ normal way of doing things. I liked to be in attendance. It was part of the package to have me there. But that would have to start changing. We were getting so many events it was bordering on ridiculous to have me attend every one. Yes, Maddie could start sharing the load, starting at this particular engagement party. If she managed well I’d be able to give her a pay raise too.
I piled my stuff onto the passenger seat and climbed in, flicking the air-conditioning to full-blast. My emotions had been in a whirl ever since my crazy, sexy meeting in the office with Rick “Ramrod” Lewis over the weekend.
Well, at least I know one of the reasons for his nickname!
On the outside I’d gone about as usual. But on the inside I’d switched from feeling nauseous, hunting for something to kick, and falling into a deep well of self-loathing, to having butterflies jumping in my stomach and my flesh on fire at the thought of his body over mine—hot and hard, ready and demanding. It had been good, so damn good and I couldn’t recall ever having a lover look at me so hungrily, so appreciatively, or be so pissed that I drew a line under it and made him walk away.
I sighed at what could have been, tapped Carly’s address into the GPS and headed for the freeway, reminding myself to make an appointment with my manicurist. Scarlet just wasn’t doing it for me anymore—too many wagon-falling memories.
Before long I pulled up at a large, gated villa with palm trees lining the front of a towering cream wall. I reached out the window and pressed the intercom. After I stated who I was, the wrought iron gates swung open and I crunched up the gravel path and parked between a red Ferrari and a white Lexus. Wow, these hockey players earned some serious money.
I climbed out and, struggling in my new heels, stepped past three more cars, the combined worth of which would probably pay off an entire third world country’s debt.
Smoothing down my blouse and skirt, I tossed my dark curls over my shoulder. Just as I was reaching for the knocker, which was shaped like a hockey stick, the door burst in on itself. A very slim, pretty girl with long, sleek black hair stood before me. I recognized her as Carly Flannigan, Olympic gold medalist and fiancé of Vipers right-winger, The Brick.
“Hi,” she said, beaming. “You must be Dana from Best Laid Plans. Thanks so much for coming at such short notice.”
“My pleasure and before I say anything else, congratulations on your recent engagement.”
“Thanks, yes, it is rather exciting isn’t it?” She grinned broadly. “Please come in.”
I stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind myself.
“This way,” she said. “I’ve just made coffee if you’d like some.”
“Lovely, thank you.” I followed her across the enormous foyer hung with large pieces of abstract art and through a wide archway, all the time aware of my heels clacking noisily on the marble tiles.
“Do you mind sitting in the kitchen?” she asked, stopping at a huge breakfast bar lined with silver and black leather stools. “I’m sort of half watching the game.”
“No, not at all.” I placed my bag, laptop and file on the sparkling granite surface and turned to the sound of the TV.
Oh, good lord!
It wasn’t the size of the plasma screen that had my heart frantically ramming up against my ribs like a puck hitting the back of a net. And it wasn’t the sheer opulence of the room either. It was the sight of five hulking Viper players lounging on a low L-shaped couch in front of the TV that had taken every nerve in my body, twisted it and set it alight.
My hand reached out to the granite to steady myself, my knees ridiculously weak. I didn’t need to see his face to know the captain was there. Just his tousled jet-black hair and the sheer width of his shoulders identified him to me.
“Milk or cream?” Carly asked as though everything in the world was perfectly normal.
“Er, milk please,” I said, my voice a whimpering squeak even to my own ears.
“Ah, that ref is blind,” shouted Phoenix, banging a beer onto the wooden table in front of him. He was one of the Vipers’ longest standing players and when I’d seen him and his wife at Mae and Wolf’s wedding, she had been pregnant.
“Yeah, he’s crap,” said another player I didn’t recognize, who had long, sleek raven-colored hair pulled into a low ponytail.
“Yeah, at this rate the Islanders are gonna win.” The sound of Rick’s deep, rasping voice shot up the hairs on the back of my neck. It was as if they traitorously craved the feel of his breath breezing across them.
“Then I’ll have to whoop that big, hairy loser’s ass again,” Rick went on. I watched his head tip back as he chugged on a beer.
“Ah, we’ll soon take him out,” Brick said. “It would be well worth a trip to the sin bin to see him messed up.”
Carly pushed a mug of coffee in front of me. “Sorry,” she said, making a face. “The Diggers are playing the Islanders today and Brick invited the guys around to watch the game.”
“No, no, that’s fine,” I said, my mouth dry and my stomach somersaulting. Shit, I was in the same damn room as him. How the hell had that happened? I’d been so busy planning on how to avoid him at the party and now here he was, at the first damn meeting. Still at least he hadn’t seen me. He was too involved in the game. Perhaps if I quickly outlined the main aspects of the party I could slip out unno
ticed and catch up with Carly over the phone. Better still, let Maddie run the whole damn thing.
“So,” Carly was saying, “we’re holding the event here, that way there’s no problem with venues being unavailable.”
I nodded and slid my butt onto a stool, angling my shoulders away from the noisy gaggle of hockey players.
“And I was thinking of a theme, maybe Roman. I imagine everyone in costume, maybe togas, and with lots of fruit and champagne.”
I nodded. That sounded simple enough to organize.
“And maybe we could bring in a fountain. We don’t have one here, not even at the back by the pool.”
I scribbled down, Roman/Togas/Fruit/Champagne/Fountains onto the first page of her file. “I don’t know what you think, Carly, but how about having the bar and wait staff dressed as gladiators?” I suggested in a quiet voice.
“Oh, yes, that would be great.” Her eyes widened. “And I could dress up as an Empress and Brick as the Emperor. We could have crowns and everything.”
“It would work well,” I said, though I did wonder if Brick would actually agree to an Emperor’s costume and a crown. I guessed Carly would have to use her womanly powers of persuasion for that one. “The Romans were great ones for parties,” I went on, “lots of overindulgence and wild entertainment.” But please don’t ask for lions, I prayed silently. I had enough to cope with being in the same room as my nemesis, and lions would tip my sanity over the edge.
“I don’t think we’ll have lions, though,” Carly said. “I’ve never been a big cat lover. Those teeth and claws just give me the creeps.”
Phew. “And would you like the invitations done in both English and Latin, with the dates in Roman numerals?” My mind was racing through all the standard questions.
“Oh, yes, definitely, great idea, and what about chariots?”
“Well that was a lousy result for the first period,” a deep voice boomed.
“Yeah, crap. Get me a beer, Brick,” Rick ordered.
“Get it yourself,” Brick replied.
I tensed. Thoughts of chariots fled and I reached for my coffee in the vain hope I could hide behind it if Rick came to the fridge, which was dead opposite me.
“Grab me one too?” Phoenix asked.
“Yeah, yeah, what did your last slave die of?” Rick muttered, his voice coming from just over my right shoulder.
“Can’t you do chariots?” Carly asked, her eyes studying mine.
“I’m not sure,” I said, wishing I had an invisibility cloak. This was soul-squirmingly embarrassing.
He was in front of me now, a mere ten feet away, tugging open the fridge door and clinking bottles of beer together. I tried to force my gaze from the curls of hair at the nape of his neck, away from the sheer size of his deliciously broad back, from the memory of those tiny dots of blood seeping through his shirt—wounds that had been caused by my frenzied passion during those three wonderful, heart-stopping orgasms he’d just about blown my mind with.
He turned, placed the beers on the opposite side of the breakfast bar and picked up an opener. His face was relaxed, his eyes soft.
Then he saw me.
His lips dropped into a flat line, his jaw tensed and his swirling brown gaze locked on mine. As I sucked in a breath, I saw him do the same, his chest swelling with the sharp intake of air.
“If chariots are a problem then that’s okay,” Carly was saying, “as long as we’re both there and our families are with us that’s the main thing, I just need a hand with the details. I haven’t done anything like this before.”
“I’m sure we can figure out chariots,” I said with a tremble in my voice, swallowing down a lump in my throat the size of a damn coliseum.
“Oh, okay, great.”
Tension fizzed between Rick and me like a live wire, the air above the breakfast bar sizzling with awareness and unspoken words. Finally I tore my eyes from his. Damn, the man is even better-looking than I remembered.
I banged down my coffee. Reached for my pen and scribbled chariots, then underlined it twice, with hard, heavy strokes. The tinny sound of the beer lids hitting granite rattled toward me and I resisted looking up at him again.
“What about food?” Carly asked. “Any thoughts?”
“Um, well.” Come on, brain, work. “I guess lots of fruit, like you already said, and cheese, olives and bread. And the wine could be served in ceramic pitchers, that’s how the Romans would have served it.”
“Oh, you have so many lovely ideas, Dana, I’m thrilled Mae recommended you.”
I smiled a tight, forced smile. Oh god, this is just the most nerve-jangling thing I’ve ever had to endure.
Without a word, Rick stepped past me. He didn’t pause, he just headed back to the couch, leaving a hint of his incredibly sumptuous aftershave wafting in the air, just enough to send every cell in every erogenous zone I possessed into a skittering frenzy.
“Would you like me to show you around?” Carly asked. “So you can get a feel for the size and see where to add in the chariots and fountain?”
“Yes, perfect, yes, please do.” I grabbed my stuff. I had to get out of there before I either exploded with suppressed desire or became a boneless heap on the floor, unable to function anymore because of sheer embarrassment. But thank goodness he hadn’t said anything about our meeting in my office. That would have been mortifying in front of a client.
Chatting excitedly, Carly showed me around the opulent home she shared with her fiancé. It had eight bedrooms, a gym, a formal living room and dining room and a pool big enough to moor several yachts in. It was incredibly tidy and ordered, and in the upper hallway I paused to admire Carly’s impressive collection of cycling medals, including the gold medal she’d won at the Beijing Olympics.
“Have you seen enough?” Carly asked as I headed toward the front door rather than going back into the kitchen. Fight-or-flight instinct had kicked in and flight had definitely won.
“Oh, yes, great, thanks.” I clutched my bag, file and case. “One last thing though, how many people are you thinking of inviting?”
“Probably about seventy or eighty,” Brick said, stepping into the hallway.
Carly looked up at him and her eyes softened. When he moved up tight to her side, she visibly melted against him.
“I’d like the whole team here,” he said, wrapping an arm around his fiancée and dropping a kiss to her head.
Carly looked like the cat who’d gotten the cream. “Not many on my side to invite,” she said. “But the team will all bring their wives and girlfriends so it will be a good excuse for us girls to get together.”
“Sounds great.” I stretched a smile across my face. My feet were twitching to get out of there, away from the one man who could make me forget my own name. Away from the man who was every bit as tempting as a bowl of cream. “I’ll be in touch over the next couple of days, once I’ve got the first arrangements in order.”
“Perfect, and again, thanks so much for taking the job on at such short notice,” Carly said. “We want to celebrate with everyone while we’re still so excited about it.”
“I understand.” I stepped out of the air-conditioning into the sunshine. “Goodbye, it was lovely to meet you both.”
The door shut behind me and I tottered across the deep gravel as fast as I could. The sun was hot but my body felt hotter. I scrabbled in my handbag, found my car keys, beeped the car to life and swung open the door.
“Why are you running?”
I gasped and spun around. Standing right behind me, looking too damn gorgeous for his own good, was Rick. He reached out and curled huge fingers over the car door, his body effectively trapping me between it and the interior.
“I’m not running,” I said stiffly.
“I’ve never seen anyone race that quickly across gravel in heels before in my life.”
“I’m in a rush.” I tugged at the door. It didn’t move. “Please, I have to go.”
“I want to know why yo
u didn’t say hi back there?”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I asked you first.”
“I-I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to, after, you know…”
“After I made you scream my name just like I’d predicted.” His mouth twitched into a cocky grin but his eyes held a hint of irritation.
“Don’t be so vulgar.”
“As vulgar as scarring me for life,” he huffed and his grin dropped. “The guys gave me seven shades of shit for those damn scratch marks when they spotted them in the locker room. They were desperate to know what wild thing had attacked me.”
Wild thing? Well, I guess that was how I’d behaved, I deserved that one. “I said I was sorry. But you really shouldn’t have pushed me.”
“I pushed you?” His brows rose. “I think it was the other way around, it was you who kissed me first.”
I studied his mouth, so damn kissable, so sensuous. Bad Dana reared her head and wondered just what else he could do with that clever tongue and those soft lips. Bad Dana reckoned he’d be wickedly ruthless and disgracefully talented at doing sinful things with that mouth.
“So when are you going to call me?” he asked, his other hand resting on the roof of my car and his wide body hedging me in all the more. He appeared to be in no rush to let me go any time soon.
“Rick, I was honest with you.” My heart was thudding so fast I feared for its ability to sustain the rate. “I said it had been a mistake and that’s still how I view it. Nothing has changed.”
“I think it will.”
“No, it won’t, so go find some other woman to stalk.”
He flinched, as if I’d slapped him, hard. His eyes narrowed and he let go of the car, took a step back.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but please. I have to go.” I dropped into the driver’s seat with my file, laptop and purse balanced on my lap. As I grasped for the door, my purse slipped and the contents slid out across my lap and onto the gravel.
“Shit,” I muttered, reaching desperately for my wallet, a lipstick and my sunglasses.
“Here,” Rick said, passing me a hairbrush and a packet of mints.
