by Mel Curtis
She’d caved in to peer pressure and changed into a mint green mini dress with a heart neckline accessorized with a slim silver belt, silver earrings and delicate silver sandals that added a mere three inches to her height. She’d swept the hair around her face into a high twist clipped at her crown. The rest of her auburn hair fell in heavy waves down her back.
“Steady, but we could use a boost,” Yerik spoke in his thick Russian accent.
Panache had started out as a French restaurant, but had been taken over by Russian immigrants with Amber’s backing a few years ago. Despite a cuisine change, all involved thought it wise to keep the name and the existing business it drew.
A few of the guests recognized Amber as she sailed past. Snippets of conversation drifted her way: Flash game… front page…Wicked Tantric.
She’d blown off dinner with Trina for this? Amber started to chew off her coral lipstick.
Blue had been given a table in the center of the dining room next to the front windows. Amber glanced toward the shadowy back corner.
“Sorry, Miss Rule.” Yerik anticipated her request. “Your usual table is reserved by the Spielberg party this evening. I did not realize you were coming.” His gaze landed reproachfully on Blue before he held the chair nearest the window for Amber.
“They know you by name?” Blue shook his head. “I suppose you come here every night, too.”
“Not every night.” But several. Why spend money at someone else’s restaurant? Besides, Panache was right next to Tingle. She and Trina frequented less hyped restaurants in and around Beverly Hills. Despite Amber’s desire for anonymity, she enjoyed the great food available in the area.
Boris, one of the waiters, delivered Amber a dirty martini.
Amber lifted her glass in mock salute to Blue. “Being a regular has its perks.” When you had a day like she’d had, you needed the VIP treatment.
“At least you changed your clothes.” Blue wore a dark suit. “Although you went too conservative.”
“I know what I’m doing.” Her dress was her contingency plan in case things got out of control with Evan. “As your sister, I have to point out that you worry too much about what I wear.”
“If you’d seen the YouTube video someone posted of you at Wicked Tantric you’d worry too. You looked like you were going to rob the place. I hope that’s not how you request a refund at Barneys.”
Could this day get any worse? Amber drank more of her martini. “I’m sure you would have handled it better. Especially the part where Senge asked me if I wanted him to help me expand my horizons alone or with a partner.”
That shut Blue up.
“How did your meeting with Winnie Tiegler go?” Amber asked, relishing the alcohol shimmy that was spreading through her system. It was five after eight. Maybe Evan wouldn’t show.
Amber glanced up when Blue didn’t answer.
Calm, composed Blue was sucking down what appeared to be whiskey as if it was water.
Amber smiled. “If only your meeting could have been recorded.” Then Amber would know there was justice in the universe.
Evan put off meeting Miss Good Luck Charm as long as he could. His success had always been about control and coming to Panache tonight made it appear that Evan was Jack’s puppet. And possibly Amber’s. As much as he wanted to get to know Amber intimately so he could end this life coaching farce before it began, it was hard to make himself heel to Jack’s commands.
He’d chosen his clothes carefully – black slacks, black long sleeved silk shirt. His hair, slicked back, looked dark as night. Dracula would have been proud.
Evan stood outside Panache just after eight o’clock and watched the valet drive his Ferrari away. He held the door for Alyssa Atherton, the latest Bond girl, and her no-name date. He posted a teaser on Twitter about meeting a red-head for dinner. He paused to appreciate a shiny new BMW that pulled up front, holding the restaurant door open for the Japanese couple that got out.
“Sir?” The parking attendant had returned. Frowning, he waved his hand in front of Evan’s face. “Do you want me to bring your car back around?”
“Hell, no.” Angry because Dracula wouldn’t be caught dead being a dork, Evan followed the BMW party in. He scowled at the snub-nosed maitre de because the guy looked like he enjoyed making people wait and it would be good to blow off some steam before this meeting. But the maitre de sat the Japanese couple right away, promising to return to Evan in a snap.
Evan turned his death ray stare after the retreating couple and saw her. Amber Rule had her back to the window and a martini glass in front of her. If Playboy did spreads on Irish cream perfection, she’d be the centerfold.
You can score! Evan went hard just looking at her.
He shouldn’t have come.
“May I show you to your table?” The maitre de was annoyingly prompt for such a staid and stuffy looking restaurant.
The desire to back out the door was strong. Evan didn’t like emotions. He was a machine on the court (when he was in the zone, unlike last night), a man without attachment. He liked his women beautiful, bitchy and unnaturally blond. It made it that much easier to cast them aside when he was done with them. Emotional attachments made men weak.
But there was something about Amber Rule that had Evan itching in places he didn’t normally scratch. Maybe it was the information he’d gleaned about her from the internet. Maybe her breasts had made an impression his dick didn’t want to ignore. Maybe it had been too long since his last sexual confession.
But he’d sat through twenty minutes of another one of Coach Spinks’ tirades after practice about how Evan wouldn’t be playing for the Flash next year if he didn’t climb out of the ditch he’d come to the NBA in and focus. Evan had feigned reluctance just because he didn’t want Coach to know how much he wanted to see this woman again. But Coach was clear – adopt the Rules for Jack Gordon or sit the bench the rest of the season. It was hard to win games when you didn’t play.
So Evan was here to kiss Amber Rule’s ass – a proposition he should not have been happy about – and then he planned to quickly kiss and tell. A woman as private as Amber, recently put in charge of a well-known company, wouldn’t want the publicity sex with Evan would bring. He wasn’t proud of his Machiavellian machination, but survivors did what needed to be done.
“I’ll show myself to the table.” Evan walked through the narrow aisle to join Amber, hesitating only a second when he saw she wasn’t alone.
The man was of average build with dark hair. He was leaning over and fiddling with an odd messenger bag on the floor. If he was Amber’s boy friend things were about to get complicated. Abruptly, the man straightened in his chair and met Evan’s challenge head on.
Not many guys had the cajones to hold Evan’s emotionless glare. Still, Evan was confident he could take this guy in a fight. Without breaking eye contact, Evan snagged a chair, but he was aware of every breath Miss Good Luck Charm took next to him.
“Blue Rule.” A tan hand extended across the white linen.
Her brother. Evan’s brain ordered him to relax. Unfortunately, parts below the belt didn’t follow commands well, especially when he could smell Amber’s coconut perfume, which brought to mind hot sandy beaches and skin slick with oil.
With a nod of acknowledgement, Evan leaned back in his chair. The dark lord didn’t acquiesce to mere peasants.
Blue twitched, glanced down and withdrew his hand.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Oliver.” Now that she wasn’t yelling at him, Amber’s voice was low and intimately husky.
Just because Evan showed up, didn’t mean he was going to play her game. Evan would set the pace. Amber Rule was a fringe member of LA’s late night crowd, one of the privileged few that lived off the hard work and successes of their parents. Spoiled. Pampered. By that fact alone he should have been convinced that Amber was his type of woman, someone playing at grown up and pretending to help people.
But the combination of the video
clips he’d found and the vulnerability in Amber’s wide chocolate eyes convinced Evan that she was in way over her head, regardless of the sex tape. Ruining Amber’s reputation was going to cause him a couple of sleepless nights. But Evan had no choice. It was either him or her. With deliberate ease he turned to face his prey.
She’d donned a woman’s battle armor, a clingy green dress with a low-cut neckline, her appearance designed to distract Evan from his true purpose. Amber’s long red tresses fell softly about her shoulders, attempting to draw Evan’s attention down toward the promise of heaven. Instead, Evan held Amber’s soft gaze, quirking one eye brow as if offering the first volley.
Amber dropped her gaze to the hand clasping the stem of her martini glass. She had small knuckles that had never landed a punch, delicate fingers that had never jammed into another man’s rib cage in a scramble for a loose ball. She wasn’t a fighter and didn’t take up his challenge.
A waiter came by and asked what Evan wanted to drink. He ordered a vodka tonic with a twist of lime, keeping his gaze on Amber the entire time. Contrary to the rest of the women in Southern California, she wasn’t one for heavy make-up. If he touched Amber’s cheek nothing artificial would leave its mark on his hand. And her lips had only a thin slick of color that wouldn’t mask the taste of her.
“Mr. Gordon thought you might benefit from hearing more about our program,” Blue said.
Evan remained silent, staring at Amber. She didn’t fit L.A.’s vision of beauty. She was too short, too curvy, too soft. Beneath the tablecloth, Evan gripped his pants leg to keep his hand from reaching for her. In his mind he made Amber over: thick black eyeliner, tight fitting black boots and a leather bustier – a red haired Pam Anderson. Then she’d look like every other bimbo in L.A. and Evan wouldn’t find her so hard to resist.
“Sometimes when a player’s game is off, they need to regroup, to mentally refocus,” Blue continued. “That’s where we come in.”
With a slight turn of his head, Evan faced Blue. “Leave.”
Blue wagged his finger. “This is not a date. This is a business meeting.”
Something coiled in Evan’s gut, preparing to strike. “It’s only talk until I decide otherwise.”
The guy foolishly tried name dropping. “Mr. Gordon – ”
“Leave,” Evan repeated. He wasn’t about to let anyone get the upper hand on him who wasn’t regularly depositing money in his bank account. He’d put Brother Rule in his place and then put Amber in hers. “Or I will.”
“We’re a team,” Blue continued stubbornly.
“I don’t do teams.” Teams meant you had to rely on someone else. And in Evan’s experience, people let you down.
Blue’s smile was smug. “You do now.”
No, he didn’t. Not even for good luck charms. With a sigh, Evan stood and gazed down at Amber, willing his eyes not to stray toward that Playboy cleavage as he told himself to shake off whatever hold Amber had over him and leave. She raised her deep brown eyes to him and the chemistry between them slowed time.
“Hang on,” Blue said, suddenly conciliatory. “Amber can’t do this alone. She needs me here. She’s – ”
Amber blinked heavily as if waking up from a trance and turned toward her brother. “If you call me whacked one more time, Blue, I swear I’ll send TMZ those pictures I have of you sucking your thumb.” She flung her hair onto her back with the same annoyance she flung at her brother.
Blue’s chuckle sounded forced. “I was a baby.”
“You were eleven.” Amber squared her shoulders. “I took on Lyle Lincoln and Senge Tenzing today by myself. I think I can handle this one alone.”
Evan couldn’t help but be curiously turned on wondering what Amber had done with the founder of Wicked Tantric.
The siblings stared stubbornly at each other in silence. Blue worked his jaw, but couldn’t seem to find a suitable rebuttal.
As regal as a queen, Amber pointed to Evan’s chair. “You sit.” And then waved Blue away. “You go.”
“But you told me – ”
“I’ll be fine.”
So, Amber had a backbone. Intrigued, Evan sat.
With a role of his eyes, Blue left with his bulky messenger bag just as Evan’s drink arrived. Evan took a sip of the carbonated rubbing alcohol, waiting for Amber to make the next move.
“We got off on the wrong foot yesterday.” Amber’s cheeks bloomed with color. “This is a working relationship. I won’t be sleeping with you.”
“So certain,” he murmured.
“I’m not going to be your beck-and-call girl.”
“Pity.” Evan scanned the restaurant.
The guy at the next table directed the rest of his party to lean in so he could take a picture. Realizing she was in their shot, Amber pivoted until her back was to the camera, practically flinching when the photographer called out, “Say cheese.”
Wasn’t that interesting? Miss Good Luck Charm wasn’t just good at avoiding the media. She avoided even the possibility of exposure. How could Evan use that to his advantage?
“Look,” Amber said when she faced Evan again. “I have a job to do.”
There was a boring picture of scenery on the far wall with gentle rolling hills. Evan imagined running the back of his hand over the slope of Amber’s breast. “Just what is your job?”
“Chief Efficiency Officer.” She allowed herself a private smile. “I’m here to make you play better.”
“Well, if it’s cause and effect you’re looking for, you kissed me and I put one in the hole. So…”
“Smooth. Lines like that usually work for you, do they?”
He drew back in mock innocence. “Lines? I don’t need lines. I’m Evan Oliver, the biggest badass in the NBA.”
“More like the biggest head case in the NBA.”
“If that was true, I wouldn’t need you.”
“I’m not saying you’re crazy.” Was that a tinge of desperation in her voice? “You just lack…I don’t know. Focus?”
His knuckles popped as his fist clenched. If one more person told Evan he lacked focus he’d have to punch them. “I can be very focused.” He relaxed his fingers over his thigh as he leaned in closer to whisper in her ear. “Amazingly focused.”
Chapter 14
Amber squirmed in her seat. The Candy Man’s warm breath awakened stifled Chakras.
The determined set to his broad shoulders, the tilt of his strong chin, the silver-gray eyes that saw too much and stroked over her as intimately as a lover’s caress. Evan Oliver exuded a dangerous sex appeal that sent every nerve cell in Amber’s body on red alert.
He’d appeared godlike in physique and stature on the court, holding himself proudly apart from bedlam around him. Upon closer inspection, Evan was battle scarred – a thin silvery line slashed through a smooth eyebrow, faint green bruising lined the corner of one eye and fresh scratches were gouged into his strong forearms. Tonight Evan had entered Panache with a deceptive sophistication that belied the hunger of a predator. And Amber was his prey.
Blue was right. Amber shouldn’t have told her brother to leave. At this rate, she’d be in Evan Oliver’s bed in an hour. She’d done her research. Evan had an image to keep up with in order to continue receiving lucrative contract endorsements. A street image, a bad boy image, a heartbreaker image. Amber needed to leave the premises – alone – and upgrade her vibrator, preferably on the way home.
Amber pushed forth a laugh as she bent back out of their shared space, trying to channel Trina and one of her cutting lines. “I don’t…I don’t date men with egos bigger than their…penises.” Amber choked on this last and felt her cheeks burn.
“It’s hard to decide which point to defend,” Evan said, his intense gaze encompassing Amber, commanding her to obey her physical instincts.
This was all Senge’s fault. Or Lyle’s. Or the Times for printing that sizzling picture.
“I’ll let you pick up the check.” Anxious to escape, Amber laid her na
pkin on the table. “And explain to Jack why we couldn’t work this out.”
“You give up too easily.” A large hand settled on her shoulder. Evan’s thumb rested dangerously near the strap of her bra.
For just a moment, Amber lost herself in the contact, let herself imagine what Evan would feel like inside of her, let herself recall the stellarly selfish joy of sex.
And then she dredged up the feeling of mortification she’d experienced when her love life was put up for public consumption.
Amber removed Evan’s hand from her shoulder. “Just because everything has come easy to you in the past doesn’t mean it’s always going to be that way.” Amber knew she should just shut up, but graceful outs were not her forte and Evan was turning out to be too much for her to handle, despite her being gin fortified and channeling Trina.
Evan cocked his scarred eyebrow.
Amber sighed. “You were tall growing up, right? Everyone expected you to play basketball because you were Sasquatch-size.”
“I did play.” Long, elegant fingers drummed his glass.
“I got these in the sixth grade.” Amber put parentheses around her breasts with her hands, fully over the line into Pityville now. She didn’t dare glance around to see if anyone was watching. “For the next two years I was pinched, groped, and ridiculed. I turned to food and gained thirty pounds. It was easier being fat. Mostly people left me alone.” This last came out in a whisper, as she remembered Cora, Blue and their friends.
If she wasn’t careful she’d start blurting the woeful tale of her lost virginity.
The conversation was too personal for Evan. He looked away, which was a blessing since Amber hadn’t meant to share something so painful.
“Thanks. That’s the first sign of decency I’ve seen from you.” Amber preferred Evan full of himself. He was easier to resist that way. Now that he’d become almost human, self-preservation demanded she leave even as she recognized the opportunity to push her advantage.
