by Pamela Aares
When he stepped back from her, she was so stunned she didn’t try to run. But his sexy smile brought her back to reality. She might have traveled to a realm she’d never visited before, but clearly he was accustomed to such journeys. Her throat tightened with her rising and awkward self-consciousness.
“You did a good job out there this morning,” she heard herself say over her hammering pulse. She was sure he could see the effect he had on her, especially the color creeping into her face. “With the kids, I mean. They’ll never forget it.”
“Why, Miss Kelley, are you complimenting me on my benevolent actions? That’s not the usual response I get after kissing a woman senseless.”
Her defenses flared at his teasing tone. Player. She’d allowed herself to be played by a player. Too bad the experience had felt so darn good.
“I’m going in now.” She didn’t owe him an explanation. And if she stayed there for one more kiss, there was no telling where she’d end up. Clearly Jake would like for her to end up in his bed, but nothing doing. The undeniable fact that every cell in her body wanted more of him made it harder to step away.
“I’ll walk you in.” He crooked his arm.
Between his soft Southern accent and his gentlemanly manners, he was nearly irresistible. Ha. The manners and accent had nothing to do with her response. He had the body of a god, and his kisses had lit her up like a holiday candle, a candle that had been waiting in its holder for far too long for a match to light its flame.
And some small part of her wished he had urged her for more, maybe even wrapped his hands along her body and melted her again with his spellbinding kisses. That he hadn’t pushed her carved a hole in her barely held resolve, made her want him even more. But though she was susceptible to the magic of his hands and his lips, to his smooth ways, she wasn’t a fool.
They ducked past a couple coming outside to cool off. The band had started up again, and the air in the bar was thick with heat from the crowd of dancers and the scent of Cuban cigars.
Just inside the door, a beautiful woman with a mane of curly auburn hair stepped up to Jake and put her hand on his arm. Ignoring Cameron, she spoke in sensually accented English.
“I hope this time you’ll spend the night while you’re in town.” Then she turned to Cameron and said in perfect English, “You don’t mind if I steal a dance or two? It’s not often that this one hasn’t made it down here for years.”
This one. Two simple words that tattooed warning deep into her heart.
“I was just leaving.” Cameron delivered the line with such cool calm, any director would’ve been ecstatic at her performance. She wasn’t going to look at Jake. She didn’t trust her eyes not to betray her confused sense of disappointment. She’d been more than right about him being a player.
With unsteady steps and a still unsettled pulse, she skirted the dance floor, resisting the urge to look back at Jake and the woman who’d claimed him.
She’d be flying out in the morning, Cameron reminded herself. Early. She’d have breakfast in her room, then dash to the limo. She wouldn’t see him again. The memory would fade. She wouldn’t have to admit that he’d slipped past her guard. If she hadn’t seen him with the kids in the village, with the sick toddlers in the clinic—if she hadn’t seen the genuine man under all the flash—she’d never have developed the vaguest interest in him. Well, maybe that dream of the man with the mysterious smile had primed the pump a bit. Or maybe nasty genes for making poor choices ran in her family. If that was true, she was doomed. So she should stick to her plan: go it alone, adopt a child when the time was right and get on with her life.
Yup. That was a good plan.
But as she glanced back at Jake laughing on the dance floor with the beauty, she knew she was telling herself the worst sort of lie.
And it was always bad when you lied to yourself.
Chapter Five
Jake maneuvered the rental car into the only vacant spot near the gallery, taking care not to bump the sleek Porsche behind him as he eased to the curb. He liked to have his car nearby, had no patience for waiting in the endless valet lines that were part of life in Los Angeles.
Had he only been back in the States for two days? Already he missed the sense of community—tight and real—he’d developed with the other players and the kids in Dominia.
He valued teamwork. During the offseason he missed the sense of camaraderie that he had with his Giants teammates. He was lucky to be on a team he loved. Not all teams had the mutual trust, friendship and respect among their players that the Giants did. Those strengths made them great—the glue that held them together and made it possible for each player, in the mix of the whole, to reach down and pull up performances that led to championships.
Aderro would be back in California before Christmas. He’d promised to pop in to Jake’s place in San Francisco after settling back in with his family. Jake wished his former teammate hadn’t signed with Boston, but sometimes a career demanded moves like that. If Jake’s agent succeeded over the next few weeks, Jake would have a five-year contract and be assured of staying put in the Bay Area and playing on the team he loved.
He exited the car and activated the alarm. A couple dressed in black scooted by him on the narrow sidewalk. LA wasn’t a city meant to be traveled on foot. Concrete asphalt and the great indoors—no wonder it was the birthplace of Hollywood. People had to have something to entertain them if they spent that much time inside.
Baseball was entertainment, his agent had reminded him before their meeting with Nike the previous day. Jake hadn’t argued—there hadn’t been time. But deep in his heart he knew that for the true fans, baseball was so much more than entertainment. Baseball connected people across class lines, across political and religious lines too. Mere entertainment couldn’t do that.
Light poured from the floor-to-ceiling windows of the gallery, along with the buzz of voices. A crowd of stylishly dressed people was already sipping drinks and admiring the painted metal artwork on the walls when Jake walked in. Art receptions weren’t his thing, but he’d promised his teammate Kaz that he’d visit his sister’s exhibit. Kaz and his wife, Sabrina—another famous actress—were in Japan for a family wedding and a trip into the countryside to visit relatives. Family visits and vacations had to be crammed into the offseason along with all the other details that came in second to baseball.
A gallery attendant tried to take Jake’s black leather jacket, but he waved him off. Coat checks were another bother he preferred to avoid. He’d probably need the jacket—the air conditioning was cranked up so high that he was sure that with another notch or two, he’d be able to see his breath.
He saw a woman he’d dated when he’d been on the road in LA with the Giants. They’d had three dates—his limit. They’d had fun. And from the looks of the guy she was batting her eyes at, she’d found someone else who interested her. Fine with him. He’d never been one to be jealous. That was a benefit of keeping clean boundaries, which ensured he could steer clear of sticky emotions that could glom up a good time.
He ordered a whiskey from the bar and wandered to the back of the gallery, where the crowd was thinner.
And did a double take.
The woman peering at the description next to one of the works of art tossed her head as she straightened to study the burnished-metal painting. He knew that move. He knew those curves.
He strode across the room and stood just behind Cameron, close enough that he could smell the meadow-fresh scent he’d tried to put out of his mind for the past two weeks.
“I’m told that the artist is one of the few people in the world to work metallurgy with color,” he said softly.
Cameron stiffened and whirled to face him.
“Sneaking up on people is a dangerous activity in this town. Perhaps no one told you that.”
He grinned at the fluster showing in her face. And knew he hadn’t imagined her interest in him. A plan formed in his mind. He had a few days to kill in LA. Spe
nding time with Cameron would make his stay much more—the fantasies he’d had of her kicked into high gear—well, he’d see how much more of what she’d make his stay. Being with her would certainly be a more interesting way to spend the evenings. If she was amenable, he’d give her a few good memories too. He knew how to please a woman, enjoyed bringing pleasure.
“I didn’t know you liked art,” he said.
“There’s a world of things that you don’t know about me.”
Her words were defensive, but her tone and the sparkle in her eyes said bring it on.
“I’d like to find out more.”
He didn’t touch her; he wanted the next move to be hers. He never pushed. He had a sister and had learned early to respect women’s boundaries. But he sure as hell wanted an invitation to cross into Cameron’s world for a short time. He tamped down the energy rising in him, but he couldn’t ignore that it felt stronger than usual.
A man stepped up beside her. He had one of those golden-boy LA tans and a flashing smile. Ignoring Jake, the man took Cameron by the arm.
“We will absolutely be late for dinner. La Reve will only hold our table for ten minutes. Even for you, darling.”
Cameron peered up at Jake from under her lashes. Backlit by the lights in the gallery, she looked every inch the movie star. “Trevor, this is Jake. We met while I was working on the UNICAN project in Dominia.”
Only then did the guy give Jake a quick nod and a perfunctory “Nice to meet you.”
Trevor looped his fingers around Cameron’s. “We need to head out. Traffic is insane. And Bernard has promised us his best table.”
Jake stepped back. Competition was one thing, rudeness was another. Trevor wouldn’t last five minutes in the South. But Jake wanted a date with Cameron, golden boy or no golden boy. Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Snapped a photo of the artwork behind Cameron.
“I’ll text that shot to you and a couple others from the show,” he told a rather astonished-looking Cameron. “Looks like you won’t have much time to study them tonight.” He fingered to the next screen. “I don’t seem to have you in here.”
She smiled, pulled her hand from Trevor’s and took Jake’s phone from his hand. “Thanks. I’d appreciate having them.”
Was it his imagination or did her fingers linger against his just a second longer than they had to? And had that brief contact actually sent a shot of adrenaline straight through him?
She tapped the screen of his phone, then handed it back. “I tried to fit too much in today; it’s a terrible habit. I’d love to have a few images from tonight.”
Trevor tugged at her arm. “Cam, really. Let’s hit it.”
His annoyed tone grated in Jake’s ears. A self-centered guy like Trevor was never good for a woman long term. Certainly not a woman with the spine and heart that Cameron had. Who she spent her time with wasn’t any of his business, but Trevor rubbed him the wrong way all the same.
Jake put two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute. “Better hit it, then.”
He watched her until she was out of sight and then pocketed his phone. Date number one was a sure thing.
After congratulating Kaz’s sister on her artwork and snapping a few photos to send to Cameron, Jake headed back to his hotel. He waited until the next morning to send the shots he took of the amazing artwork. In the message accompanying the photos, he asked Cameron if she’d like to meet up.
When his phone rang not five minutes later, he tripped over his shoes in his hurry to reach it.
“I owe you,” Cameron said.
He couldn’t tell if she was being serious or pulling his chain. Right then, either would do.
“So you do.”
“I’m thinking at the level of a walk on the beach,” she said. “There’s a surf contest near the Manhattan Beach Pier. I’ve always wanted to see one, and a friend is competing.”
“I was thinking dinner.” Dinner and a candlelight cocktail on his balcony and—
“This is LA, Jake. Dinners are precious. I don’t owe you that much,” she said with a laugh.
Chapter Six
The next morning Cameron changed clothes three times before settling on a pair of white capris and a coral T-shirt. She picked up a tube of lipstick, stared at it, and then drew the deep poppy color across her lips.
Ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. But it had been ages since she’d looked forward to seeing a man as much as she was looking forward to seeing Jake.
She gathered her hair into a ponytail and then slathered on a thick layer of sport sunscreen, all the while trying to ignore the butterflies dancing in her stomach.
Jake’s sexy smile at the gallery opening had led to hot and surprising late-night fantasies. And the dreams of Jake that had followed had illuminated a frustration she hadn’t wanted to cop to. Both had kindled a keen awareness in the dark place she hadn’t visited since breaking it off with shiny-boy Elliott. She might not want a man in her life, at least not permanently, but a deep sense of something missing had left permanent tracks in her mind and an ache in her body.
With a groan, she tossed the tube of sunscreen into her beach bag. Her good sense had evidently abandoned her and gone on vacation with Sabrina. She fingered her phone and considered texting her friend. Sabrina always was good counsel, and with her brother and husband playing on the same team as Jake, Sabrina could give her the scoop. But then she remembered that Sabrina was in some remote hermitage in Japan with Kaz. And besides, since Sabrina had to fly back early for PR duties, she’d see her in two weeks.
And no amount of sleuthing was going to settle the butterflies.
She rechecked her makeup in the mirror and considered applying another layer of lipstick. She’d bought the bright color on Thanksgiving Day. Wandering a mall hadn’t been her first choice for celebrating the holiday, but she hadn’t felt like spending the day with the families of local friends. Besides, she’d made the clerk at the department store really happy by making good use of the lonely morning and stocking up on essentials. She stared at her reflection. Two coats of red was too much. In the bright beach sunlight, she’d look like an escapee from a mental ward. Jake would think she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had. She swiped the color from her lips and replaced it with a soft rose-petal pink.
She grabbed a wide-brimmed straw hat, donned her sunglasses and headed for the back door that led to the garage. With any luck, photographers wouldn’t be camped out in the street. Since the release of new movies over the weekend, the photo mob had moved on to the stars of those films. New releases made better tabloid fodder. Thank God.
She circled the block adjacent to the beach twice before she found a parking spot just south of the pier. Armed with a bottle of water and a pair of binoculars, she cut through the rollerbladers and tourists and headed to the picnic tables overlooking the beach.
Jake sat at one of the picnic benches, wearing a plain black cap and sunglasses. But he was hardly incognito—she’d recognize the cut of his jaw and those biceps anywhere. The shadow of a beard intensified his rugged good looks.
He waved and stood. Evidently she wasn’t as well-disguised as she’d thought.
“I didn’t even know you could buy a cap without some sort of logo or brand on it these days,” she said as she reached him.
Her weak attempt at a joke probably didn’t disguise the cells in her body screaming for her to kiss him. But hey, a girl had to try. Against her better judgment, she was letting him under her radar. If she was going to pay later, and she knew she would if her good sense abandoned her, she might as well make him work for every kiss.
He laughed. “Hello to you too.”
“I always find that the logos distract people. Very helpful in avoiding paparazzi.” Whoa, she was blathering. Not good. So much for making him work. If she didn’t get a grip and fast, all he’d have to do was crook a finger and she’d be in his lap.
“I’m not one for wearing advertising on my body,” he said.
The one thing he didn’t have to advertise was his outrageous sensuality. The hint of beard along his chiseled jaw and the muscles bulging under the knit polo shirt were like magnets for women. Even the usually self-focused Rollerblading queens slowed as they skated by him.
But his comment reminded her of his refusal to help with the UNICAN project. That put a damper on her fire.
“The contest starts in about half an hour.” Even dampened, she had to fight the fire to keep her voice level and smooth. Acting had taught her some useful skills.
He grabbed a soft-sided cooler from the bench beside him. “I brought a few picnic items.”
A guy who packed a picnic? She was not going to swoon. Absolutely not. Hadn’t she been buffaloed by similar tactics? Okay, Elliott’s were champagne and roses, nights at the opera and tickets to see her favorite bands. But once he’d caught her, once he had lured her in and locked up her heart, he’d continued his philandering ways. Jake was a playboy in the same vein. A player. A player. She repeated the phrase in her mind even as she smiled and said, “That’s so thoughtful.”
“Thoughtful?” He grinned. “Nope. Practical. I need protein every three hours right now. Got a big season coming up, and I’m in training.”
She was not going to be duped by the delicious sight of his grin. And imagining him training shot images of muscles and sweat and—wow, just wow. She needed to get a grip. Maybe a year off from sex had damaged her brain.
“Can I carry anything?” She dangled her hand in front of her.
“Just this.”
He handed her a rolled-up blanket.
“Not one for sand in my food,” he said. “Especially not in fried chicken. Really gritty.”
