by Zoe Dawson
“I heard you signed with Mavrick. I hope they’re treating you right.” His oily voice made me nauseous first thing in the morning.
“Can’t complain,” I said with a flat tone. He was never going to get me back.
“You were amazing in the Dane video. I had no idea you could skate like that.” His tone was ingratiating and set my teeth on edge.
I experienced the same rush I used to get just before slipping into the tube of a giant wave, nothing between me and tons of water overhead, water that could crush me if I didn’t judge with split-second accuracy to ride it. Dealing with people like Ray always made me feel like I needed to take a shower.
My elbow protested, and tired from tossing and turning all night, images of Lena disturbing my sleep and setting me on edge, I said more harshly than I intended, “What is it you want, Ray?”
His we’re-best-friends voice didn’t alter. “I have some paperwork that needs your signature. I can messenger it over to you. Just tying up loose ends is all.” I just wanted to get the slimy son of a bitch off the phone before I said something completely unprofessional.
I gave him the address.
“Keep me in mind if things go south with Mavrick.” He gave it one more shot before letting me go. Then he asked, oh-so-casually as if they were actually friends, “Who’s your agent, by the way?”
“Helena Mavrick.”
He swore under his breath. “She’s a ballbuster, that one.”
“Don’t talk about Lena that way.” I wanted to punch him in the face. Geez, I was really starting to hate this douchebag. “Anything else?” I snapped, way beyond testy.
“Nope, that will do it, pal.”
I was so not his pal. After I hung up, I turned onto my back and stared at the ceiling. It would be a cold day in hell that I would ever go back to Ray Canton, the slimy prick.
I fell back to sleep but was woken by a text from Lena. Are you up, lazybones?
I snorted. Yeah, I had a boner, and there wasn’t anything lazy about the way Lena made me feel. But I knew that’s not what she meant. Although I couldn’t help but respond to it. It’s morning, and I’m a man. Do the math, babe.
And what? Get one? That’s not what I meant.
Numero uno is the correct answer. I got that, but I’m still replaying that kiss. You know. The one you ended and I replayed over and over until I went to bed. Alone.
I keep forgetting it’s against the rules around you. Besides, you were injured, and athletes need their rest. That’s how they win. I’m almost there. Get up and we’ll have breakfast and talk about strats.
No more Crystal?
No, you’re right. You’ve got this covered.
Haha, sure that’s the reason?
Positive, Skater Boy.
Okay, babe. Shower and I’ll be down.
This girl was in my head too much, especially when I was crossing over my own rule line. Never rely on anyone, ever. I didn’t do long-term relationships, period.
So if I couldn’t think about Lena and relationship in one thought, I would switch to something that would keep my mind off my dick and what I wanted to do with it around her. She was pushing strategy and I didn’t really have one. Tricks were just that, tricks. I didn’t want to practice one to death. That’s not what I was about as a skater. I could work out my own strategy and figure out my own plan of attack. Skating was so free form that anything I decided to do in the moment was all right. I wasn’t sure that picking something and working the shit out of it was my best course of action. Skating was what I did in the moment. I really didn’t think about it all that much. For me, it had always been something I did alone, to clear my head, to manage my anger, and to deal.
I rolled out of bed as I heard the front door open, and she called out, “I’m here.”
I so wanted to go down there and drag her against me, kiss her, and then move that shapely body upstairs and into the shower with me. The thoughts didn’t help my morning wood to subside, but I enjoyed the feeling of being hard for her. I didn’t even jack off in the shower, still semi-hard. I groaned a little while manhandling my balls and junk into a jock, thinking how good it would feel to have her hands on me. I pulled on my stretchy shorts and shrugged into a T-shirt, towel dried my hair, and headed downstairs.
I could smell eggs the minute I hit the living room, and when I entered the kitchen, Lena was at the stove. She turned at the sound of my entrance and smiled at me.
Even with all the hours that had passed, I could still feel her lips, hot, moist, and greedy. She was dressed in a short white skirt, showing me about a mile of toned, tanned legs. My mouth dried up.
“Aren’t you eating?” I asked, seeing only one plate on the table.
“I have a smoothie after I work out. I don’t like a heavy breakfast.”
“Don’t tell me. Yoga?”
“Pilates and cardio. Gives me a strong core.” She patted her stomach, releasing some more of that sweet fragrance I couldn’t get enough of. I was doomed, dead man walking, and I smiled back at her. She’d put her hair up, piled it every which way on top of her head and just let it fan out all over the place and trail down the sides of her face, with a few loose strands drifting down her back, all fiery red and silky.
What had I been thinking? I shouldn’t have kissed her, or even let myself want her. I had no business wanting what I couldn’t have. Relationships were fleeting, unreliable, and filled with pain and loss.
I sat down at the island, and she walked over. I watched every step she took. She placed the plate in front of me. “Bon appetit.”
As she leaned back, I couldn’t help asking. “You smell delicious. What is that?”
“Fairy Dust. It’s ozonic.”
“Ozonic?”
“Yeah, you know, ozone. I think of it as a tangy, sparkly clean, almost electric, powdery, fizzy nuance of nothing.”
“Air?”
“Yes, fresh-from-the-line clothes, rain showers, the smell of the sea.”
I leaned closer to her, drawn in by everything about her. “Fresh-spun frosty sugar, a buttery, caramel-toffee aroma, and a clean, tangy, sparkly, almost electric, powdery, fizzy, nuance of nothing. Smells really good.” I looked down and saw that she had a button undone, and before I could rethink my action, I reached over. “You missed one.”
Big mistake. I had to stand way too close to get the job done. The backs of my fingers brushed against the soft, bare skin of her midriff. Close made me crazy, but not moving closer would drive me mad.
Fairy dust. What marketing mind came up with that idea? Whoever it was, they were a genius. The sugary scent of her made me want to taste her, stroke her mouth with my tongue, and then work my way down every soft, delicious inch. Just lick her until she came, and then take her and make her mine.
I was damn near electrified with the closeness of her body, her curves pressed up against me, all that sweetness practically in my arms. I needed another cold shower. All I felt was heat. Heat of the moment, sexy-hot-woman heat, brain-melting-into-a-gooey-gelatinous-mess heat. Fucking-disaster heat. “Lena.” I spoke her name softly, like that could possibly save me from what I was feeling.
I was afraid to trust it, put my faith in the fact that it would be there tomorrow. And, fuck, I wanted her to be here tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. And I knew the scent of her wasn’t the only thing that pulled me, held me down, picked me up, and threw me against the damn wall until I was dazed. The feeling was the stuff of magic, and it seemed to me that something inexplicable was happening between us. Could I trust it? Magic was about forever, happily ever after. Could I buy into that promise with Lena?
Her eyes gazed into mine, her mouth looking like the wonderland I remembered. Just a few inches to nirvana. Then she placed her palm against my chest and we reluctantly—both of us fighting the attraction—broke apart.
She cleared her throat and said, “How’s the elbow?”
I shrugged, still a little dazed by her smile. “I
t’s better. Nothing to worry about.”
“You look like you’re going to skate.”
“I am.”
“The doctor—”
“I’m fine, babe. Got this covered. Skating is all about falling and getting back up.”
“Okay, daredevil, why don’t you eat and let me talk?”
“Sounds like a plan. But then, you always have a plan.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re the planning type. Got everything down to a science, a bit of a perfectionist.”
She wrinkled her nose in such a cute way. “You think I’m uptight?”
I wrinkled mine up, too. “In a sexy-librarian sort of way. If you shush me, all bets are off.”
“Okay, Lone Ranger.”
“You think I’m a rebel without a cause?”
“No, I think you have a cause, I just don’t know what it is.” She stole a grape off my plate. “Yet.”
“You seem confident about that.”
“All I know is your dad is unpredictable and could cause problems. You haven’t told me anything more about your background.”
“Are we at the sharing phase?”
“Phase?”
“Of this thing we have going. Not quite friends, a bunch of really hot kisses we both want to take to the next level.”
That made her take a step back, distracting her from asking me any more questions about my background. The way I saw it, that information was on a need-to-know basis. If problems came up, I’d worry about it then, but I didn’t want her pity—or maybe it was that I thought she might judge me. Whatever the case, I would keep everything about myself to myself. It was safer that way.
“I admit keeping my hands and apparently my lips off you is a challenge. But mandatory. My dad is a really good guy, but he won’t tolerate crossing over this line, not to mention it isn’t professional to get involved with one of my clients. As I told you before.”
“Do you think about me?”
She went to turn away, but I caught her wrist. “I know I should back off. I have my own reasons to not want to get any closer to you, but the bottom line is, I’m attracted to you more than I have ever been, and, babe, it keeps getting more intense. I have issues with my father that are difficult to deal with normally, but now that I’ve walked away from surfing and cut ties, I want a new life, and I’m willing to fight for it. Easy is overrated.”
“This has disaster written all over it. Aside from my father, other clients may see it as a proprietary situation—you getting preferential treatment because I’m so into you.”
That made me smile. “I’m not sure I can ignore what’s between us anymore than you can. So maybe we take this slow? See where we go. Keep it on the down-low for now.”
She shook her head. “Gunner. We should probably get to work.”
She wasn’t going for it, and that made me more than frustrated. But I was on this course of action. For the umpteenth time I wondered what Max’s connection was to this place. It was obvious from some of the stuff that was left behind in the closets that he had once lived here. I was confused about why it looked like he just up and cleared out. Talking about Max seemed like a safe subject. “All right, but before we start talking about strategy, what’s up with this house and the car in the garage?”
“Max used to live here with his family.”
“I thought so. There are still clothes in the closet and Quickdraw plans on the desk in the library. And the Mustang? They moved and left a sweet ride like that?”
“Not exactly.” Her voice soft and subdued, she said, “His wife and son were in a car accident. His wife was killed, and his son sustained massive head trauma. He went into a coma, never woke up. He died within a month of the accident. Max had to pull the plug.”
I swallowed hard. That explained the head trauma charity Max had put in my endorsement contract.
“He just left everything after Jeff died. Walked away from the house.”
Max had been so upbeat when I met him. How had he functioned in the wake of what had happened to him? How had he gotten past the tragedy and moved on with his life? I shifted in my chair, thinking how we had two things in common. Walking away from a former life and starting over, and the total loss of family we cared about. The parallel disturbed me more than I wanted to think about. My throat got thick, my gut clenching. For Max and for me.
“Are you all right?” Lena asked touching my forearm, and I forced myself to push my feelings down. I nodded. “That must have been tough for him.”
“It was. But he had my dad, me, Keke, and my friends. We helped him through it.”
“He accepted your help?”
“Yes, he was devastated, and there was no way he was going through that alone. My dad found him in a bar and pulled him out. He slept on my dad’s sofa for a month, and I played cards with him every day.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Nothing, just played cards and stayed with him until the loss overwhelmed him, and he finally broke. Then, after that, there was a way back, and we walked that path with him. He’s never going to forget them, but he’s worked through his grief.”
“There’s a way back, huh?”
“If you want there to be.” She looked at me intently. “All of a sudden I don’t feel like we’re talking about Max, here. You can tell me anything, Gunner.”
“Anything?” I was beginning to think she was right. I could, but I was still hesitant, and it was so hard to get past my own barriers. Lena was warm and soft, sweet, kind, and so far she had been fully in my corner.
“Yes.”
“You have the most stunning green eyes I have ever seen in my entire life.”
She bit her lip and looked away. I knew all about warring with myself in more ways than of the heart, and I was getting in too deep when I should just shut my stupid mouth and keep my thoughts neutral.
Right, like that wasn’t going to be one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
“Thank you. And you should know, right about now I agree with you on the company policy. It never bothered me before.”
“No? Not with all the buff athletes you handle every day?”
“Nope. Not until I saw a certain skater ripping it in a viral video.”
“Who is this sketchy dude? I’m going to take him out back and beat the shit out of him.”
She laughed, and I was standing too close to the blast zone, and a guy could only take so much. I knew she wanted me. That was the hard part. She went to push me in that ha-ha-you’re-so-funny way. The minute she touched my bare arm, it was on. I snaked my arm around her waist and went down the mistake road with my engine on turbo.
She was so take-my-breath-away beautiful, looking up at me with that wild tumble of crimson hair framing her face, her skin so soft, her gaze so full of longing and locked onto mine like she was drowning. “Gunner,” she whispered. “I…uh, want—I mean, need to…” Her voice trailed off.
Yeah, I so got the gibberish code she was throwing down. I wanted and needed anything she could give, everything I’d been without, and she was holding onto me like she was never going to let me go, had me up real close and personal. I could feel the rise and fall of her breasts with her every breath, and so help me, it was dazzling my brain, giving me a bad case of tunnel vision, with her the only light at the end—those green, green eyes rimmed with thick, dark lashes and smudged with gray shadow; that soft, soft mouth, her lips slick with raspberry-pink gloss.
I was usually stronger. But not today. Not when I was walking a razor’s edge between this breath and the next. Just once again, I told myself. Kiss her again to see if it was as good as it had been before. One kiss to see me through. It was asking for trouble, more trouble than I could handle—and I knew it. But that wasn’t enough to stop me. Holding her gaze, I lowered my mouth to hers and watched as her eyes drifted shut in readiness for my kiss.
It was all so damn easy. I heard her breath catch, felt the sensual heat o
f her draw me in closer and closer. I took my time, an eternity, barely touching my lips to hers, wanting to savor every intimate moment until I pulled away. That was my plan. I’d kissed more women than I could remember. But I’d never kissed Helena Mavrick. Just the smell of her was enough to get my semi-hard stiff again, and the taste of her…I opened my mouth wider, took more of her, slid my arm more tightly around her waist, and pulled her into me, and she was no damn help at all. She pressed herself against me, sliding her tongue along mine and making a soft sound that ran through me like fire, lighting me up from my brain to my balls. With one move, I had her backed up against the counter with my hand sliding toward her breast—and she was ready for me, sliding her knee up the length of my thigh, opening herself to me and frying my last ounce of common sense.
When the doorbell rang, I wanted to howl.
I let Lena go with a groan, and she backed away, red-faced, hastily tucking and rearranging her clothes.
“Who could that be?” she said, breathless, her brow furrowing.
I sent my hands through my hair, trying to master my frustration. “Maybe the courier. Ray called this morning and said he needed to send some stuff over to me.” I hated that guy even more right about now. “I’ll try to remember not to kill the messenger.”
She stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “What stuff?”
I headed for the foyer. “Paperwork, he said.”
She grabbed my arm. “Oh, for the love of God! That lying snake in the grass! He wanted your address. It’s probably him at the door.”
“It won’t do him any good,” I said and pulled the door open.
“Hello, son.”
Two things hit me at once. Ray had called to get my address for my dad, so he could show up here and blindside me.
And my father rarely called me son.
I put my arm out, filling the doorway, blocking his view. “Dad, what are you doing here?” My voice was flat, expressionless, even as my heart was pounding. I didn’t want him here, didn’t want him within ten feet of Lena.
“We need to talk. I’m sure you’ve had time to come to your senses.” He sounded so confident, his voice calm and modulated. But I knew him and how he worked.
