High Risk Love

by Shannon Mayer

  He checked his book, clicking his tongue. “I’m sorry, sir. We do not give out room numbers to people who are not registered with us—”

  “How much?” I asked, knowing the routine by heart.

  The clerk spread his hands and smiled. “You tell me.”

  From my back pocket, I pulled a hundred dollar bill out and slapped it on the counter in front of me. Seconds later, I was running up the stairs, the room number on the tip of my tongue. The top of the damn hotel, she had to be at the top.

  Seven flights up, I sucked air, the combination of heat, adrenaline and borderline panic kicking my ass. Again, I chose not to analyze the panic, why it was so important that she not leave, that I didn’t hurt her.

  Jogging past the line of doors, I stopped at the room number the clerk had given me. “You’d better be right you bastard,” I muttered to myself, lifting my hand to knock. The sounds of crying stopped my hand—deep sobs that tore at my heart. Fuck, I’d done that to her. I took a step back, a shiver of fear slicing across my spine. The last time I’d held a crying woman, things hadn’t turned out so well. For either of us.

  My mother had sobbed like that when my dad had found us. She’d sobbed and clung to me, and I’d cried, not knowing at five years old what else to do. Fuck this. I turned to leave, then a particularly gut wrenching sob caught my ear.

  Fear nothing. Not even a crying woman, you pussy.

  Licking my lips, I stepped back up to the door, lifted my hand again. Before I could change my mind, I gave three sharp raps. The crying stuttered to a stop, a moment passed and the door opened a sliver.

  Green, tear-stained eyes stared up at me. She opened her mouth and I stopped her.

  “Just let me explain. Please. That wasn’t about you,” I said. God, I did not want to tell her anything, but I couldn’t let her believe for one second I thought so poorly of her.

  With one hand, I pushed the door open, closing it behind me. She stepped back, allowing me to come in.

  “I’ve already called my boss. He’s going to let me finish the article. I think I’ve got enough pictures—”

  “I wasn’t yelling about you.” I couldn’t even meet her eyes now. “I was thinking about the questions you were asking and it took me back to a very bad time. I . . . .”

  Now or never man.

  “I . . . was thinking about my stepmother.”

  Now I did chance a look up.

  Jasmin’s brows were drawn over her eyes, two dark slashes that only accentuated the green below. She took a breath, paused, thought for a moment and then spoke.

  “I’m sorry I brought up bad memories. I won’t bother you anymore with questions or pictures.”

  Shit, that wasn’t what I wanted. “No!” I tried to take her hand, but she stepped back, away from me. “Jasmin, I want you to ask me.” Fuck, I’d lost my mind. “It’s just hard. That’s all.”

  Her lips parted and her tongue darted out as she pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth. “Jet, I think that this would be better anyway. I’m sure the pictures I have are enough, and I know enough about you to put together a good article.” She took another step back, grabbed some clothes and threw them into an open suitcase on the bed.

  This was not how I wanted things to go.

  “Shit, I don’t want you to go.” The words were a confession I hadn’t planned on making.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You aren’t getting into my panties, no matter how much you flirt, no matter how long I’m here. Again, I’m sorry, I’ll go and you can go back to your life as it was.”

  “I know I’m not getting into your panties, all right? I know that.” And I did. She wasn’t the kind of girl to buckle to some pressure. I could see that strength in her.

  We stood like that, staring at each other, weighing the words between us. Finally, she gave me a nod, dark hair spilling around her slim shoulders. “All right, if you’re sure. Then okay. I’ll call my boss back and tell him that I was mistaken.”

  She picked up her phone, dialed and was speaking to her boss within a minute. I moved deeper into the room, closer to the glass door that led onto a balcony, not unlike my own hotel room. On the edge of the dresser was a book that read “Portfolio.” I flipped it open, stunned by the page I’d opened to. A young man, probably about my age, with dark hair and green eyes just like Jasmin’s, stared up at me, past me, through me as if he were in the room. Shit, the girl had talent. This must be her brother. Ryan . . . Was that his name?

  The phone gave a beep as she hung up and I closed the book, turning to face her.

  “I don’t even like her, you know,” I said.

  “Your stepmother?”

  “Tina. I only kissed her to make you jealous, Spitfire.” This was much safer territory.

  Jasmin’s lips quivered and she put a hand on her hip. “And do you think it worked, your jealousy tactics?”

  A shot of pure pleasure zinged through my entire body, tingling through every sense I had, as her voice curled around me. There was a subtle difference now. When we’d been with Hugh, she’d been open and honest, laughing with us over things most women would have slapped us for. Now, there was a hesitancy, an uncertainty that only made me want her more. She was the good girl, the sweet one I knew I shouldn’t even take a shot at. But I was going to anyway—because doing so was safer than the past, safer than thinking.

  “I’m hoping they worked, at least a little.” I started toward her, each step heightening the anticipation.

  Jasmin didn’t move away as I approached her, didn’t pull from my touch as I ran my hands up and down her arms, feeling her soft skin quiver under my hands. “She isn’t my type, anyway.” I smiled down at her. “Did I tell you I have a thing for green-eyed girls?” My lips were just above hers, breathing in as she breathed out, tasting her even before I kissed her.

  “Really? I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said, but didn’t pull away. Our lips were brushing against each other now, but still, I didn’t kiss her.

  “I’m not a good guy.” Where the fuck had that come from? Wasn’t I trying to convince her to sleep with me even though I knew she wouldn’t?

  She licked her lips, which meant her tongue danced along my mouth in a tantalizing movement that made me groan.

  “I could lose my job,” she said, but again she stayed where she was. I circled my hands around her waist, slid my hands down until I was cupping her sweet cheeks through the thin sundress. I worked the material upwards until my hands were under her dress, feeling along the edge of her satin thong, dipping my fingers along the crevice of her tight ass. She sucked in a sharp gasp, and I leaned her against the bedside table, pressing myself into her.

  “I don’t want you to lose your job. You’re good at it,” I said, and meaning it.

  Her hands slipped over my shoulders and down my chest, stopping at my pecs. She fingered the nipple ring, sending a dangerous spike of pleasure though me. “You’re going to get yourself killed one day.”

  I licked my lips, emulating her, tasting her skin ever so briefly. “You deserve someone better than me.”

  She bit my upper lip, sucked it into her mouth, and then let go before I could respond. “I can’t. I can’t lose my job. No matter how bad I want . . .” Her hands were no longer pulling me close, but pushing me backward.

  I let her. My Spitfire was right. We were so wrong for each other. She was smoothing her hair back and gave me a smile, soft and sad. Like she was regretting being an adult, doing the right thing. Hard, so hard, to be a grown up.

  Well, I had never been known for being adult-like. Fuck it.

  Tangling my hands in her hair, I tugged her to me. She stumbled and I caught her lips with my own, murmuring between breaths.

  “Just a kiss. Nothing more. I promise.”

  Sweet and hot, she opened up to me, her hands sliding up under my t-shirt tracing my muscles and scars. I buried myself in her, putting every emotion I had into the kiss, giving her everything I had. I held her, bre
athing her in as if my life depended on it, feeling her give back to me the sweet urgency of one grasping for a life line. Sweet Mary, I was going to lose it without even getting her naked.

  Still holding her face, I turned to whisper a lie in her ear. “See, just a kiss.”

  7

  Jasmin

  Jet had been gone for over an hour, yet still my pulse sped up just thinking about the way he’d kissed me. How he’d cradled my face as if I were delicate, something to be cherished. And how badly I’d wanted to do more than kiss him. With a groan, I flopped backward onto the bed and reached for my phone on the side table. It rang as if on cue and I hit the talk button.

  “Jasmin, girl, you had better not hold out on me,” Lily said, her voice a comforting, calming sound, even though it was pitched with excitement. “Tell me all about Mexico. Are the stuntmen as dangerously wild as reported?” She laughed and I took a second too long. “Jasmin, are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” She was too perceptive by far, but then, that was why she was my best friend. Lily knew me inside out, had been at my side through all the losses thrown at me in my life. “Mexico is beautiful, the weather is warm, I have a sunburn from hell that I’m smothering cream on every ten minutes and my skin soaks it up like the freaking desert sands—”

  “And the men? Any to your liking?”

  I closed my eyes, touching my fingers to my still sensitive lips. Again, I took too long.

  “Oh. My. God. You met someone. Didn’t you?” She was almost screeching.

  I laughed. “No, not like that.”

  “Like how? Do you know this is the first time in six months that I’ve heard you laugh? He must be fan-fucking-tastic.” Her voice went from serious to teasing in a blink, not giving me a moment to get maudlin.

  “He is. He makes me laugh, and smile, and I feel . . . .” I thought for a moment, trying to pinpoint it. “I feel like when I’m with him, I’m alive. Crap, that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Pssh. Whatever. Tell me all about him. Is he a local?”

  Now what? She was my best friend; I knew she wouldn’t tattle on me to Kevin. But at the moment, I didn’t want anyone to tell me how stupid it was to get involved on any level with a stuntman. Preaching to the choir and all that. Still, this was Lily. I took a deep breath and said it in a rush. “He’s my assignment, Jet.”

  “What?” She screeched directly into the phone, and I set it on the bed beside me, able to hear her easily even without the speaker on. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You could lose your job. He won’t be faithful. Seriously, Jasmin. Please, listen to me, baby—this is not a good idea. Tell me you aren’t going to sleep with him.”

  “No, I’m not. And he knows it.”

  “Jeeeesssuuuus. You scared the hell out of me. I’ve seen some of these stunt guys; they’ve come into the office. They are freaking crazy. You can’t tame them, don’t even try. I guarantee he’s lying to you about something, a woman, a past job, some drug abuse. Please, break whatever you have with him off. If Kevin finds out, you’re done. And I don’t want that to happen.”

  I closed my eyes and hit the end button. I’d blame it on a bad connection if she complained, which I knew she would. The phone immediately began to ring and I turned it off. She was right, Jet was so damn wrong for me. But I already knew that. So why did it hurt to hear her say it?

  Tomorrow, I’d apologize to Jet for the kiss, make him see it was a mistake. I sat up, then began to strip for the shower as I considered what I’d say to him. I’d tell him I was sorry for my behavior, that I’d overstepped professional boundaries. Crap, I’d been the one to kiss him. I’d make this right. I had to.

  But for tonight, I would let my head take a vacation and let my heart rule the slowly cooling air. Tonight, I’d pretend I wasn’t alone in the shower, that he was there with me, touching me, whispering in my ear, making me feel alive for the first time in what felt like my entire life.

  For tonight, I’d let myself go and just feel.

  * * * * *

  I stood beside the director, an easily excited Rodney Asher who seemed younger than me, far too young to be directing a movie.

  “Now, this is excellent,” he said, settling himself into his plush chair, his name emblazoned on the back in gold thread, “You’ll have these pictures in the magazine and, of course, I will have my name mentioned as well.”

  The grin plastered on my face served me well. “Of course. If I use any of these particular shots. It will depend on what my boss prefers.” I wasn’t going to just agree to anything. Rodney frowned in my direction, but I was no longer really seeing him.

  Jet strode across the set toward us, a smile on his face, one that showed his chipped tooth. When he was stopped, the smile shifted to one that was more manicured, fake. Then his eyes came back to me and that smile, the one making my heart stumble over itself, lit him up. Crap, I had to pull this off. I had to make him believe the one kiss was all that would ever happen. And that even that single kiss was a mistake.

  I held my hand out to him as he got close, shaking it firmly. “Hello, Jet. I’m looking forward to seeing you in action.” Lips twitching, the words seemed to take on new meaning.

  My mind flicked back to the shower, whispering his name as I eased the longing in my body with my hands. Heat flushed through me, and by the way Jet smiled, his eyes dipping to my mouth—and then lower—I wondered if he could read my mind.

  “I hope you have the best angle from here, to really get a feel of how I work.” He gave me a wink and before I could say anything, turned and jogged back to where he was setting up with the stunt crew. “Angles,” “feel,” the words weren’t necessarily sexual, yet the way he’d said them and how his mouth had curved around them gave me a vivid image in my head that was all too hard to banish.

  Rodney lifted an eyebrow at me. “I do hope he hasn’t seduced you too.”

  I coughed and shook my head, letting my hair fall around my face to hide the color I knew was there, if the heat was any indication. Maybe I could blame it on my sunburn. “No. Of course not. He’s just a flirt.”

  “Good, I’d hate to see a young thing like you get your heart broken.” He reached over and patted the top of my hand as if I were a child. If he had more than two years on me I’d be shocked.

  As it was, his words still hung over me. Jet had a reputation, one that was well-earned both in his stunt career and his overactive love life. Immediately after the stunt, I’d tell him the kiss was a mistake, and that this silly infatuation was going to go nowhere for either of us. I grit my teeth against the hurt playing along the edges of my heart. How come it didn’t feel like an infatuation then? How come—

  Someone bumped into me from behind—hard—and sent me sprawling forward. I tripped over a cable laid across the ground and went to one knee, clutching my camera. Crap on toast, breaking my camera at this point would be a freaking disaster!

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Tina glaring at me, pure venom in her eyes.

  “Oops.” She covered her mouth with her hand, careful not to touch her lipstick.

  Anger simmered just below the surface. I stood, checking over my camera to make sure I hadn’t jarred anything. I didn’t have it in me to be subtle; that just wasn’t my style. “You know, Tina. Maybe you’d have a better shot at getting a guy if you weren’t such a bitch.”

  Her mouth dropped open and Rodney burst out laughing. I dusted off my knee, which had saved me from taking a full on tumble, and then went to stand on the other side of the director.

  “You can’t talk to me like that,” Tina screeched.

  I lifted my camera and snapped a shot of her, mouth open, eyes wild—there was even a stream of spittle flying out of her mouth. Tipping the camera, I showed Rodney the digital image. “What do you think? That should help her get all the crazy, psycho woman roles, right?”

  Tina froze, her eyes wide with fury. Oh baby, could I make friends or could I make friends? I smiled at her. “If you give
me your email, I’ll send it to you. As a reminder of what you look like when you’re being a snaggy cow.”

  She stormed away and I lowered my camera. Rodney continued to chuckle. “You’ll do just fine here. Don’t let them push you around . . . er . . . you know what I mean. They’ll come to respect you, even though you’re young.”

  “That how you get them to respect you?”

  “Hell no, I’ve got money and they want it, so everyone plays nice around me. You’d best remember that too.” He smiled though when he said that last bit, so I didn’t take it seriously.

  I shook my head, and then went quiet as the scene set up. Jet was to run across the open ground and leap onto the bottom rungs of a helicopter as it lifted off. Rodney and I were just outside of the shot, and as the helicopter began to warm up, I lifted my camera in preparation.

  The blades whirred to life, louder with each pass they made in the air, as the engine came to full speed. Lightweight, the helicopter wasn’t designed to carry much weight and apparently Jet was about the maximum of what it could take, along with the pilot. Faster now, the blades whirred into a high-pitched whine that filled the air, the down draft finally creating the lift needed, and the bottom rungs slowly lifted from the ground. Dust and dirt swirled around us, debris from the set kicked up in a man-made dust storm. I couldn’t hear a damn thing over the whir of the blades, but that didn’t matter anyway. My job was pictures and pictures didn’t need sound. I focused on getting the best shots of Jet in action, doing what he did best.

  I swung my view toward the outside edges of the shoot where Jet and his boss Reggie stood waiting. Reggie had a hold of the back of Jet’s black shirt, as if he was physically holding him back. Which he might have been. One look at Jet’s face and I sidled closer, staying within the area I’d been told I could stand, but as close to Jet as I could get. His eyes were narrowed, and I could see the tension in his body as he leaned forward, just waiting to be unleashed. I shivered as I took shot after shot, catching this side of him. I’d seen him playful, sad, goofy and angry. But this . . . I could see the danger in him, the unspoken nod to a wildness that he was only just containing. Fear whispered along the nape of my neck, telling me once more that Jet was not right for me, never would be right for me no matter how much he made me laugh and smile. Then the idea of him unleashing the wildness that I saw in his eyes on me buckled my knees. My body rippled as if in an aftershock of an orgasm, and it took everything I had to keep standing. All that from just looking at him?