Breaking Her Rules

by Jennifer Snow

  “I understand.” She did, but her life had been the complete opposite. Growing up poor and having to take care of herself while her mother worked double shifts to support them, she’d always followed her own path, whether it pleased anyone else or not. Unlike Walker, she’d had no idea what her life’s passion was. She just knew one thing—she was getting the hell out of Lovelock as soon as possible and she was going to be successful. No unexpected pregnancy or charming con man passing through town was going to dictate her future.

  When she’d received a university scholarship, based on her high-school GPA, she left town and never second-guessed her decision. A business degree seemed to make the most sense, and because she’d always struggled with math, she decided on a BA in marketing and public relations. Her final year internship at Neon Lights PR had turned into a full-time job after graduation and had set her future in motion. Now she was where she wanted to be.

  “Do you go home much?” he asked when she was silent.

  “No. Now that Kylie’s in California, there’s really nothing dragging me back there.”

  “What about your mom?” He leaned his head back against the couch, and his eyes looked sleepy. Obviously the meds were starting to kick in.

  “You know that’s never been my favorite topic.” She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue of the awkward relationship. Growing up, her mother had acted more like a best friend than a parental figure, and Grace had longed for the structure and guidance of a solid role model.

  He didn’t. “I guess we’re more alike than I thought, huh?” Lifting his hand off of hers, he traced the line along her jaw. “You really turned out to be a knockout.”

  Okay, the meds were definitely kicking in. She scoffed. “You expected otherwise?” she said, cocking her head to the side, desperate to lighten the mood that had turned serious, but inside she was reeling from the compliment, whether it was expired-cough-syrup induced or not.

  “I didn’t expect anything, really. I mean you were . . . are Kylie’s best friend, which should make you a nonsexual object in my eyes.”

  She swiped his hand away and began to stand up. “Okay, then . . . on that note, I think I’ll . . .”

  Catching her wrist, he pulled her back down to the sofa, her ass half-landing in his lap. An arm wrapped around her waist before she could jump back up. “I said should . . . but believe me, it doesn’t,” he whispered in her ear, causing goose bumps to surface on every inch of her flesh. “You are a beautiful woman, Gracie.”

  Suddenly, he wasn’t the only one with a fever. “Walker . . .”

  “I know. You’re not into me. That’s always been clear. Painfully so.”

  What? The guy must seriously be high. He thought she wasn’t into him. Could he really be that obtuse? “Are you serious right now? I was totally in love with you years ago,” she said, clamping her lips together. Shit. “Let me up.” She wiggled on his lap, fighting to break loose from his hold.

  “Not a chance in hell after that confession,” he said, before turning her face toward his. “You had a thing for me?”

  Oh why had she admitted that? “Had . . . like a million years ago.”

  His arm still held her firmly on his lap, preventing an escape. An escape she should be trying harder for, a voice screamed in her head. Placing her hands on his thighs, she tried to push herself up, but his hold tightened. “Not so fast.”

  She sighed as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “What?”

  “Why am I only finding this out now?”

  “Oh come on, it was a stupid teenage crush . . . let me up.” She wiggled and felt him stiffen beneath her. Oh God. She was giving Walker Adams a hard-on. About ten years too late.

  “Keep wiggling like that and we’re both going to be in trouble.”

  She broke free—or he released her, she wasn’t sure—and stood. “I’m going to go to bed,” she mumbled, needing to put as much distance between them as possible before she threw herself back onto his lap and took advantage of a situation she felt guilty as hell thinking about. Her boyfriend was out of town for twenty-four hours and she was giving her teenage crush a lap dance? What the hell was wrong with her?

  He pushed himself up from the sofa. “Was that an invitation?” he asked, coming toward her.

  “No!” She pushed him back onto the sofa, and he landed hard.

  The look of surprise on his face would have been funny if she wasn’t so completely frazzled. “Tyson’s right. You need to work on your takedown defense,” she said before disappearing down the hall and into her bedroom.

  ***

  Walker cringed, his head throbbing at the sound of Gracie’s bedroom door slamming. It had to be the fever or the combination of meds. Why else would he have been tempted to kiss the only person who really supported him right now, and the girlfriend of one of the most influential men in the organization? Not to mention his sister’s best friend and someone he’d known forever. Four really great reasons why he should have been able to get hold of himself and not give in to the urge to flirt with her.

  What now? Should he knock on her door and apologize for his inappropriate behavior? His half erection told him that was probably not the best idea at the moment. He shifted himself inside his jeans and leaned his head back against the sofa. Little Gracie Andrews had once had a crush on him. But she wasn’t so little anymore . . . and the flustered look on her pretty face moments before made him wonder if maybe some of those feelings still existed.

  He had to stop. Entertaining these thoughts would get him nowhere.

  His cell phone vibrated somewhere in the sofa cushions, and he found it on the last ring before it went to voice mail. Then for a split second, he considered letting it go there. “Hey, Kylie,” he said, answering.

  “Are you crying?”

  “Since when do you know me to cry? I’m sick.” His “just a head cold” hopes were diminishing. The fever, chills, and body aches were getting worse by the minute. Though they’d been temporarily forgotten when Gracie had been sitting on his lap. Funny how easily everything else could be forgotten when his dick thought it was about to get some action.

  “Well, make sure you keep your germs to yourself and try not to give them to Grace.”

  Might be too late. “What do you want, Sis?”

  “Just wondering what day you expect to arrive home next weekend for Grams and Gramps’s anniversary party.”

  “Um, how about no day.” He stood and hit the button to release the sofa bed. He doubted he’d see Gracie anymore that evening; may as well get in bed to suffer through this illness. He wondered if her “no sex on her sofa” rule including jerking off?

  “That’s not funny.” His sister’s disapproving tone was the perfect anti-boner.

  “I wasn’t kidding.”

  “You’re telling me you’re so upset with Dad that you won’t even go back for the party? This celebration means a lot to Grams.”

  “It’s not just because of Dad. I’m training for a fight.”

  “Bullshit. It’s one hundred percent about Dad. One day away from training won’t kill you.”

  Wanna bet? He unbuttoned his jeans and tugged them off, tossing them onto the floor. Grace could forget her rules for one night. Next he set the phone down and removed his shirt. The sound of Kylie’s voice yelling his name a second later tempted him to simply disconnect the call. “Shhh, I’m here,” he said, his head aching far too much to put up with an argument with his baby sister.

  “For one day, you and Dad can put aside your differences. For our grandparents.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he mumbled. Lying back against his pillow, he closed his eyes and an image of Gracie’s ass as she fled to her bedroom flashed behind his closed lids. His sister would be on the next plane to Vegas to kill him herself if she knew what he was thinking about at that moment.

  “You’ll be there. Anyway, how’s Grace? Has she threatened to kick your sorry ass out yet?”

&n
bsp; Not yet, but after tonight, the threat was probably on its way.

  Chapter 4

  Grace tiptoed across the hardwood floor of her bedroom, avoiding the creaky plank near the window, and slowly turned the doorknob. Opening it, she winced at the whining sound the door made. “Shhh,” she told it as she moved out into the hallway. A quick glance toward the bathroom revealed the door was open, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Walker must still be sleeping.

  Of course he was still sleeping. It was five a.m. Getting up this early to avoid seeing him that morning better freaking have worked. She stifled a yawn as she approached the bathroom. She needed coffee—lots of it—but it wasn’t worth the risk of waking him. She could grab one at Starbucks on the way to the office. Her plan was to get out of the house as soon as possible without having to talk to him, and then work late until she knew he would be at the gym or working at the bar, before returning home and locking herself in her bedroom again. The last thing she wanted was to discuss what had happened between them the night before. Best to pretend it hadn’t happened.

  Right. As if the memory of Walker’s hands gripping her body, holding her pressed against him would be something she could easily dismiss. The flirting in his voice when he’d learned she’d once had feelings for him and the way he stared at her lips as though he wanted to taste them, taste her? How many years had she dreamed about what a kiss from Walker would be like? And last night she’d almost found out.

  She thought about checking the living room to see if he was there. Maybe this sneaking around before the crack of dawn was unnecess—

  Her body crashed right into Walker’s bare chest as he came around the corner from the kitchen. She stumbled backward, a startled yelp escaping her. “What the hell, Walker?” Her hand flew to her pounding heart, before moving upward to smooth her messy bedhead of unruly dark waves.

  “What the hell, me? What the hell, you? It’s five o’clock in the morning. Why are you up?” He folded his arms across his chest, and she was relieved by the limited view of his body.

  Of course the oblique muscles disappearing below the low waistband of his gray sweatpants were still visible and causing her to stare openmouthed. “I could ask you the same thing. I thought you were sick. And why were you creeping around?”

  “I didn’t want to wake you,” he mumbled, his gaze drifting the length of her from her disheveled hair to her bare legs in the short shorts and tank top she’d worn to bed. “Nice pajamas,” he said huskily, his voice rough from all the coughing he’d done the day before.

  She folded her arms across her chest, blocking his view of her nipples poking through the thin fabric. Bathrobes—that’s what they needed if they were going to be roommates. Big, thick ones.

  He stood back and gestured toward the bathroom. “After you.”

  “Hmph,” she said, moving past him into the bathroom and shutting the door quickly. She leaned against the sink and studied her exhausted expression. Sleep had eluded her the night before as she’d tossed and turned, images of Walker flashing in her mind whether she was awake or asleep. “Damn,” she muttered, pulling back the shower curtain and turning the water to cold.

  Two and a half weeks. She could avoid him for two and a half weeks, right?

  ***

  Walker leaned against the wall outside the bathroom door, fighting the overwhelming urge to pick the bathroom lock and join Gracie in the shower.

  So much for both of their plans of avoiding each other that morning. He shook his head and laughed at the thought of both of them tiptoeing around, only to end up bumping bodies outside the bathroom. He listened to the water running, and an image of Gracie’s beautiful body a wall away, naked and wet, was too much.

  He had to get out of there. He could shower after a quick workout at the gym. Going into the living room, he grabbed his hand wraps from the edge of the balcony patio doors where he’d hung them to dry the night before and retrieved his bag from the closet. He didn’t even take a minute to roll them as he stashed them inside. Then grabbing a T-shirt from his suitcase, he pulled it over his head.

  Five minutes later, as the bathroom door opened, he let himself out of the apartment. He took the three flights of stairs to the lobby and waved to the building’s superintendent as he went outside into the warm Vegas sunshine already heating the concrete at that early hour. Tossing his bag in the back of his Jeep, he climbed in and started the vehicle. Loud heavy metal music blasted from the speakers, and he rolled the windows down while he waited for the air-conditioning to reach its coolest point.

  He let out a deep breath. Better. He just needed to steer clear of her for the next two and half weeks until he found his own place. With training and work, that shouldn’t be too hard. He felt better, but then he made the mistake of glancing toward Gracie’s third-floor apartment. There she stood, in her bedroom visible through the opening in her curtains, as she dropped her towel.

  His foot slipped from the brake pedal and the Jeep jerked forward. Whatever fantasies he’d been having about her paled in comparison to the real thing. Drops of water slid down her tanned, smooth skin, and her long hair fell around her shoulders as she bent to dry her long legs. His mouth went dry.

  The shapely ass and thighs and flat stomach and . . .

  She turned, and her gaze locked with his. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face before a look of panic appeared in her pretty eyes and she quickly shut the curtain. Too late.

  Little Gracie Andrews was smoking hot. Even more reason to stay away from her, avoid contact as much as possible. Stay focused on training and working at the bar. Spend as little time at the apartment as possible. No more flirting, no more giving in to temptations to touch her. He could do that.

  But a second later, stopped at the stop sign at the corner on the nearly empty street, he reached for his cell phone. Opening the last message from Gracie, he hesitated briefly. After this, he would be good. But before his common sense could stop him, he texted, Now we are even, baby girl.

  ***

  “Hi, it’s me . . . I wanted to check in with you, see how things were going . . . Call me when you get a minute . . . Talk to you soon, okay, bye.” After leaving the voice mail on Erik’s cell, Grace leaned back in her office chair with a sigh.

  Forty-eight hours. That was all she’d needed to complicate her life. All it took for a ghost from her past to muddle her present.

  Damn it. What had she done? Her boyfriend—a man who’d been on the verge of proposing two nights before—was in California not returning her calls, and she was miles away, struggling with resurfacing feelings for her teenage crush. She should have insisted she go with him to California.

  No. She should be able to act like a responsible, mature adult and keep her thoughts and hands away from Walker.

  And she really did need to be more diligent at closing her goddamn bedroom window curtain.

  She bit her lip and tapped her pen against the desk. Had he liked what he’d seen?

  Jesus Gracie, get over it. Work. She needed to get to work. No doubt the never-ending pile of things on her to-do list would erase Walker from her thoughts in a matter of seconds. Nothing else had worked.

  Opening her e-mail, she scanned the list of those marked “urgent” from the promotion production department. The new fight card had been finalized the day before, and the promotional items were ready to be sent to the clubs that offered the pay-per-view fights that month. She knew she had to approve them, but doing so meant acknowledging Walker was really going to fight in two weeks, and she wasn’t ready to do that yet. She still hoped he’d come to his senses and back out. Though, she suspected part of the reason for his early morning exit was because he was finally realizing exactly what he’d gotten himself into.

  Noticing an e-mail from her mother, she stopped.

  Is everything okay? was written in the subject line.

  Grace sighed. For as long as she could remember, her mother had always known when she was upset or
keeping something from her. She’d called it “mother’s intuition,” and as much as Grace liked to scoff at her mother’s claim that she was in tune with a sixth sense, she had a hard time arguing the fact her mother was a fairly accurate predictor of her mental and emotional state.

  Opening the e-mail, she read:

  Hi honey,

  Had a dream about you last night . . . and here is your horoscope for today. Call if you want to talk about it.

  Love, Mom

  Attached was the link to the Horoscopes Now website, directly to her Leo sign’s daily forecast. Against her better judgment, she clicked on it.

  Conflicting emotions have your thoughts in a whirlwind spiral today, Leo, and you are questioning how you have let things become complicated. Take heart, the answers you seek are in front of you.

  Well, that was helpful.

  Her cell phone rang on the desk and she reached for it. Kylie’s number lit up the screen. She hesitated. Did her friend know about her conflicted heart as well? Had Walker told her there had been a . . . a what? Awkward sexual tension between them? Then again, he probably didn’t even remember the night before. Maybe she should let the call go to voice mail. She set it aside and waited until the ringing stopped and a moment later, a new voice mail message chimed.

  She dialed her voice mail and listened.

  “Hey, Gracie, calling to remind you I’ll be in Lovelock next weekend for Gram and Grandpa Adams’s fiftieth wedding anniversary party. She said she sent you an invite, but you know how forgetful she is, so if this is the first time you’re hearing about it, you are invited and I’m hoping you can make it. Would love to see you, even for just the night . . . Talk soon.”

  Grace bit her bottom lip as she deleted the voice mail. Lovelock? Didn’t sound like a trip she wanted to make. Going home always caused her stress, and therefore she avoided it at all costs. She’d have to see her mother, and whoever she was shacking up with now, and squeeze back into her closet-sized childhood bedroom. No thank you. Plus anniversary parties made her feel cynical. They were so over the top and elaborate, and the happy, disgustingly-in-love couple always seemed to be putting on a show for the guests. She believed in love . . . just not that “can’t live without each other” fairy tale so many people searched so hard for, only to be disappointed when the sparks faded as quickly as they’d started. She sighed. She did want to see Kylie though.