Game Changer

by Beth Orsoff

  “I’ll be down the hall if you need me,” he said. “Good night.”

  Then he closed his bedroom door behind him, lay down on the bed fully clothed, and waited. Would she come to his room? He was hoping so, even if it was only on a pretext to ask him for towels or an extra bar of soap. But when he heard the door to the master bedroom shut, he knew that she wouldn’t. That was okay. They still had two more days together. And there was no reason their first time had to be at night.

  Chapter 71

  Samantha

  “What do I do?” I whispered into the phone even though I doubted Jake could’ve heard me even if I’d been shouting. We were separated by forty feet and two closed bedroom doors.

  “That depends,” Jenna said. “Do you want to sleep with him? If you do, then you go down the hall and knock on his door. If you don’t, then you spend the night in your fabulous bedroom all alone.”

  “What if I want to sleep with him in my fabulous bedroom?”

  “Then you hang up with me and call his cell and tell him if he wants to get laid tonight, he needs to get his ass down the hall pronto.”

  “I can’t say that; he has to think of it all on his own.”

  “Oh, he’s thought of it. I can guarantee you that. He’s just decided to wait, or to leave the decision up to you. It’s actually very smart of him.”

  “No, it’s not. If he leaves it up to me, it’ll never happen! Not unless I’m wasted.”

  “Well, there is that bottle of champagne in the fridge…”

  “Will you be serious? I need advice.”

  “If it were me, I’d call him. But since it’s you we’re talking about, I say spend tonight alone and see what happens tomorrow. If he hasn’t made a move on you by Sunday morning, then you have my permission to jump him. But I guarantee you it won’t come to that.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Samantha, he’s a man. As badly as you want to have sex with him, he wants to sleep with you more.”

  I was alone, but I wasn’t sleeping. I tried reading, but I couldn’t concentrate, and there was nothing worth watching on TV. I was so bored I even considered going down the hall and knocking on Jake’s door just to have someone to talk to. But I knew he’d assume I was there for sex, so I stayed put. At four a.m. I told myself if I was still awake in an hour, I’d get up and watch the sunrise. But the next time I opened my eyes, the bedroom was flooded with light.

  I showered and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and debated whether I should apply makeup. Normally I went au naturel on the weekends, at least in the daytime, but I didn’t normally spend those weekends with Jake. I decided on concealer and mascara only—just enough so I’d look like I was awake, but not so much that I looked like I was trying.

  I could smell the coffee from the staircase. But I was still shocked when I walked into the kitchen.

  Chapter 72

  Jake

  He was glad she’d slept in. It had given him time to run to the grocery store and buy the essentials—coffee, juice, and the ingredients for blueberry pancakes, one of the few dishes he knew how to cook. He’d checked the liquor cabinet before he’d left the house and found the Solomons were well stocked, so he’d purchased mixers. Whatever else they needed they could order in. They were holed up in Malibu, not the Serengeti.

  “Good morning,” he said as she wandered into the kitchen. “How did you sleep?”

  She nodded toward the long farmhouse table. “Where did all this come from?”

  He laughed at her wide-eyed expression. He’d set the table with the Solomons’ china and crystal and added a vase of fresh flowers he’d picked up on his grocery store run. He’d waited until he’d heard her moving around upstairs before he’d cooked the pancakes, which he’d set down on the table just moments before she’d appeared.

  “Not all of us sleep as late as you do.”

  “Sorry about that. I tossed and turned all night but made up for it this morning.”

  “Not a problem. We have nowhere to be today.” Then he jumped up and pulled her chair out for her just so he could see her smile.

  “Aren’t you the gentleman?” she said as she took her seat.

  “For the moment,” he said, then winked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun with a woman he wasn’t sleeping with. But he intended to rectify that situation today.

  He waited for her to taste her pancakes before he dove into his.

  “These are delicious,” she said, her mouth still full.

  “Thank you,” he replied, his mouth full too.

  She swallowed and took a sip of her coffee. “No, really, I think these may be the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten.”

  His father was good for something; this was his recipe.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes until she asked, “So what else do you cook?”

  “I’m afraid this is it, unless you count toasting bagels. I’m an expert at that.”

  “That’s more than I can do. No matter which setting I use, the bagels either don’t toast at all or they end up burnt on one side.”

  “I think you need a new toaster.”

  “Could be,” she said and took another bite. “So if you don’t cook, where did you learn to make such delicious pancakes?”

  “From my dad. He used to make pancakes every Sunday morning until my parents got divorced. Then my mother never wanted them again because they reminded her of my father, so if I wanted pancakes, I had to learn to cook them myself.”

  “Was it an ugly split?” she asked.

  “Is there any other kind?”

  She tilted her head from side to side. “Sometimes. There’s generally less drama when there are no children, although some parents are able to set aside their differences for the sake of their kids.”

  “That would not be my parents.” His father hadn’t fought his mother for custody, but he’d made her life hell in other ways, and she’d returned the favor. He’d merely been a pawn in their war.

  She nodded and kept eating.

  “So how did you end up becoming a divorce lawyer?” he asked when the silence started bordering on uncomfortable.

  “I’m actually a family law attorney, although most of my work involves divorce.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  “Family law’s more varied. And in answer to your question, I got into it by accident. My mother died when I was in college. Whitney was still in high school, and she didn’t want to live with our father, so I had to go to court to fight for custody. And since I couldn’t afford to hire a lawyer, I had to learn it myself.”

  “Why didn’t she want to live with your father? Unless that’s too personal.”

  “There was no abuse, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  It had crossed his mind, but he didn’t want to say so.

  “Whitney barely knew him. He left before she was born. To her he was just some man who sent Christmas and birthday presents every year, and when we were older, he stopped doing even that.”

  “But he still wanted custody?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. When our mom died, the State contacted him because he was her de facto legal guardian. But when I said I wanted custody, he didn’t put up a fight. I still had to get court approval though, because Whitney was a minor. I hadn’t really considered going to law school before then, but after that experience, I decided to become a family law attorney—mainly to help kids.” She let out a laugh but her expression was sad. “I forgot that kids don’t have any money. Hence the divorce work.”

  “But I’m sure you look out for them in the divorce.”

  “I try to,” she said. “But there’s not much you can do if the parents want to use them against each other. All I can do is advise them not to, and recommend a good therapist.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m serious. I wish I was getting a kickback from all those referrals.”

  “You’re not?”

  “Of
course not! It’s against the rules, not to mention unethical.”

  He knew lawyers for whom that would not be an issue, but he was glad to hear she wasn’t one of them.

  After breakfast he gave her a choice: a bike ride (he found several stored in the garage), a hike in the mountains (presumably she’d packed sneakers if not hiking boots), or lounge by the pool.

  “Would you think less of me if I said all I really wanted to do was lounge by the pool?”

  “Not at all.” That was his first choice too. He wanted today’s exercise to be sex, not hiking the Santa Monica Mountains or biking for miles on Pacific Coast Highway.

  Chapter 73

  Samantha

  I changed into my bikini and immediately wished I’d bought the matching cover-up too. When I’d purchased the swimsuit three months ago, I’d thought I’d be sunning myself in the backyard with Whitney or Jenna for company. I hadn’t anticipated meeting someone I might actually want to get naked with.

  I pulled my shorts and T-shirt over my bathing suit and headed out to the patio. Jake was already reclining on a lounge chair in loose-fitting swim trunks, his bare chest gleaming from some combination of water, sweat, and sunscreen.

  I dipped my big toe into the swimming pool (cool but not too cold) before I sat on the empty lounge chair next to Jake’s. I assumed it was for me since he’d already covered the cushion with a towel. “I feel like I’m at a hotel,” I said as I set my beach bag down on the little square table he’d placed between our chairs. “All that’s missing is the fruity cocktail.”

  “Not missing,” he said. “Just awaiting your drink order.”

  Oooh, that sounded promising. “What are my choices?”

  “Anything you want. We have a full bar here at Casa Solomon. What’s your pleasure?”

  You. But I couldn’t say it, at least not before I’d had a few drinks and Slutty Samantha took over again. “I don’t suppose you have the ingredients for a strawberry daiquiri.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. One strawberry daiquiri coming right up.”

  I waited until he was inside the house before I peeled off my shorts and T-shirt, then I lowered the back of the lounge chair so I could lie flat, hoping my stomach would flatten too. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten all those pancakes. No matter how I positioned myself, my mid-section still looked poufy. I finally gave up on tanning my front side and flipped over.

  I was still attempting to apply sunscreen to my back when Jake reappeared with a tall pink drink in one hand (no tiny paper umbrella, but he added a wedge of pineapple) and a beer bottle in the other. “Need help with that?”

  “That’d be great, thanks.” Anyone who’d ever tried to apply sunscreen to their own back knew it was impossible to reach all of it unless you were an acrobat for Cirque du Soleil. Then there was the part about him having his hands on me, which I was also looking forward to.

  I moved my bag to the ground, and he set our drinks down on the table, then I scooted over to make room for him on the edge of my chair. I heard the squirt of sunscreen, then … “Whoa, your hands are cold!”

  He immediately pulled them off of me. “Sorry, I’ve just been holding two frosty glasses. Give me a second.”

  He blew on his hands and rubbed them together, and the next time he placed them on my back, they were warm to the touch. And Jake didn’t just spread the lotion on me like Whitney and Jenna did; he massaged it into my skin from the base of my neck to the tips of my fingers, then down to my waist. I thought he was going to stop there, but he just squeezed more lotion into his hands, which were now very warm, and spread sunscreen on the backs of my legs too.

  I didn’t need to jump into the pool. My bathing suit bottom was already wet from the inside.

  Chapter 74

  Jake

  He’d intended to wait until after she’d had a cocktail or two before he made his move, but this sunscreen opportunity was too good to pass up. He surveyed the Solomons’ yard. The two-story house blocked anyone’s view from the east, and there was a steep drop-off from the pool to the lower deck and the ocean below, so they didn’t need to worry about anyone spying on them from the west. The Solomons had neighbors on the south side, but there was a tall hedge between the two properties ensuring privacy for both families.

  The only wild card was the flat lawn on the north side between the Solomons’ house and the new construction next door. There were no workmen there today, but at least in theory, anyone could walk onto the property from the street, although there was no public parking nearby.

  He turned back to Samantha and looked down at that luscious ass rising up before him. Getting caught was a risk he was willing to take. He inched his hands up her legs to her bikini bottom and slipped two fingers inside.

  She immediately pushed up onto her elbows. “What are you doing? We’re outside!”

  Yes, but she was already wet. “No one can see us,” he said and began stroking her.

  “I know but”—she let out a small moan—“shouldn’t we go indoors?”

  “We can if you want.” He pulled on one of the string ties to her bikini bottom until the bow gave way. Now he could touch her with his whole hand instead of just two fingers. “Or we can just stay here,” he said as he reached for her.

  She moaned again, louder this time.

  He took that as a yes.

  Chapter 75

  Samantha

  I was on the verge of an orgasm, and I was still wearing my bathing suit! Although the bottoms were half off. But still… If he could get me this far with just his fingers, I couldn’t wait to find out what he could do with the rest of his body.

  Then I heard the patio door slide open…

  No, no, no! This cannot be happening!

  Jake pulled his hand away as if he’d scorched it and jumped up. I lay flat on the lounge chair until I could get my bikini bottom retied, then I sat up too.

  “Excuse me, this is private property,” the woman in the slim skirt and sleeveless blouse called out to us from twenty feet away. “Leave now or I’m calling the police.”

  “This is private property,” Jake called back, “and I think you’re the one who needs to leave.”

  The woman held up her cell phone. “I’m serious. If you don’t leave immediately, I’ll call right now.”

  Then the patio door slid open wider, revealing a couple I guessed were in their late thirties with a small child. The little girl pointed at Jake and said, “Mommy, what does that man have in his bathing suit?”

  We all turned to Jake, who was sporting a giant hard-on.

  “You might want to grab a towel,” I whispered.

  He looked down, then pulled the beach towel off his chair and wrapped it around his waist. The bulge was still visible, but it wasn’t quite so obvious.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing here,” Jake called out to them, “but we’re guests of the Solomons, the owners. I suggest you all leave.”

  The group huddled together inside the house, then the woman with the cell phone walked out onto the patio, leaving the family behind. She spoke quietly with her head down as if she didn’t want the family to overhear. “Who did you say you were?”

  “Guests of the Solomons,” Jake answered. “Who are you?”

  “Carole Clarkson,” she replied and held her hand out to Jake, who shook it. Then she repeated the process with me. “I’m a real estate agent. I was told the house would be empty this weekend.”

  “I didn’t know they were selling the house,” I said to Jake. “Did you?”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s a new listing,” she replied. “It hasn’t even hit the MLS yet. And I doubt it will. This place will go fast.”

  I considered asking the price but decided not to. Whatever it was, I couldn’t afford it. And if I really wanted to know, I could just look it up online. Property sales were public records.

  “What did you say your names were again?” she asked.

  Jake told her and
she walked away from us with her phone pressed to her ear. She returned a few minutes later, presumably after speaking to Michael’s parents and verifying our story. “I’m so sorry for interrupting,” she said. “I’m just going to show the Westons the rest of the house and give them a quick tour of the grounds, and we’ll be on our way. You two can stay where you are”—she gave me a quick once-over—“but you might want to cover-up.”

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  She nodded toward the house, where the Westons were still loitering by the sliding glass door. “They’re a very G-rated family,” she answered. “You understand.”

  Jake looked like he was about to burst out laughing, but I was furious. I waited until she returned to the house and slid the door closed behind her before I said, “How dare she! There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my bathing suit. It covers everything it’s supposed to.”

  “And more than I’d like,” he said before finally giving in to his laughter.

  He was the only one who was amused. “You’re the one with the giant hard-on and—”

  “Not anymore!”

  I glanced down at his towel, which was lying much flatter than it had been a few minutes earlier, but that wasn’t the point. “Yet I’m the one who’s X-rated and needs to cover up?”

  “Not X-rated,” he said. “More like PG-13, or a very soft R. C’mon, Samantha, you have to admit this is funny.”

  “Ha, ha,” I said as I wrapped my towel around my chest, ensuring I was cloaked in terry cloth from my underarms to my knees. Then I grabbed my strawberry daiquiri and slurped half of it down in one gulp.

  “Hey, go easy on that.”

  “It’s a daiquiri. They barely have any alcohol.”

  “Not the way I make them.”

  I took another sip and this time I tasted the rum. I was so angry when I’d gulped the first half I’d barely even noticed it. I sat back on my chair and stewed until the alcohol started to affect me. It didn’t take long. “So what was the plan, Jake? Get me drunk on daiquiris, then take advantage of me?”