Game, Set, Match (A Humorous Contemporary Romance) (Love Match)

by Malone, Nana

  Nick’s blond hair flopped in his eyes as he cleaned up the counter tops. “Heating up Maria’s dinners doesn’t really count, Mom. And you’re supposed to remove the cooking label Maria puts on the dishes before you put them in.”

  Izzy watched, fascinated as laughter spilled out of Jason. His laugh did more than transform his face. It lit her up from the inside.

  “Oh, Izzy. It can’t be that bad, can it?”

  She grinned at him and went to the fridge. “I’m afraid so. Have a seat, can I get you something to drink? A beer?”

  “Water’s good enough.”

  She handed him a bottle and plopped herself on a stool at the island. “So our dinner options are pizza, Chinese and Thai. All deliver.”

  He took a swig of the cold liquid and smiled at her. “Thai’ll do. And if anyone asks, I’ll tell them you made a delicious curry.”

  Watching Nick at the garbage, disposing of the charred aluminum casserole lid, Jason stood and rolled up his sleeves to lend a hand. For the next hour, Izzy felt like Jason was part of the family.

  She actually enjoyed herself, without thought to all the work she had to do, upcoming shoots, Nick’s school, Sabrina. She enjoyed having him in her space, didn’t feel crowded at all. She’d always told herself she didn’t need anyone else except Nick. Convinced herself companionship was all she needed, not warmth and family and love. She hadn’t felt this giddy in years.

  Maybe I was wrong.

  Nick told Jason about his coach, school, Samantha, and filled him in on Izzy’s misadventures. She tried to play down any exploits and asked Jason about his life outside of tennis. The shrill ring of the phone broke the happy family spell, and Nick ran to answer it, giving Jason and Izzy their first extended moment alone since he’d arrived. An irrational part of her wished for the shield that Nick provided.

  “So, what’s the story behind Z Con? Your photos—I don’t remember you traipsing around much with a camera in school. Is it something you started after graduation?”

  At his unexpected question, she brought her gaze up to meet his and blinked several times, trying to determine the best way to answer. “Uh, no story really. I started taking pictures when Nick was a baby. I got lucky. I had a job on campus, and when my boss saw some photos of Nick, she asked me to shoot her wedding.” She shrugged. “After her wedding, she gave my name to the Times. I worked freelance for them until graduation. Got a couple of breaks, blah blah blah. Eventually, I had to get an agent. I’ve been unbelievably fortunate.”

  “Not many photographers I know can afford their own studio. Let alone a studio in Pasadena.”

  She laughed. “Oh that. You forget my major was Economics. You live in tight quarters, save every spare dime that doesn’t go to food and rent and diapers. Invest it. Work like a dog. Oh yes, and toss in a mother who’s able to babysit for free. You too can live in Pasadena.” Shrugging, she said, “I bought this place with the studio in the back. Now I have the classic struggles of a small business owner—keeping the studio in the black, school fees, college funds. I’m very grown up these days.”

  “You make it work though. You’ve built an unbelievable life.”

  She hated the pity she saw in his eyes. “I was lucky. Had a lot of help along the way, and I had family.”

  “Don’t forget talent.”

  His charm would be her undoing. She laughed. “Yes, let’s not forget my talent.” The start of her photo career was not something she normally discussed. She loved her work and the peace it brought her, her camera was the best therapy she could ask for after the Major died. She hated to think about the first few years on the hustle. The way she’d needed help, the sleepless nights worrying about bills, taking every job that came her way. It depressed her. So, she did what she did best. Deflection.

  “I, uh, developed some of the photos from your first shoot. Do you want to see them?”

  His eyes squinted slightly, as if recognizing her avoidance technique for what it was. If he did, though, he didn’t call her on it. “An advanced look?” He put his hands in his pockets and smiled that sexy smile of his. “I’d love nothing better.”

  She glanced up at him, the dark pools of his eyes looking clear to her soul. “Follow me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Like all mice and children before him, Jason followed the piper. The rain had finally stopped, leaving soft sodden grass behind. A light wind wafted a flower fragrance toward him. Her perfume? Unable to keep his eyes off of Izzy, he watched her lithe movements. At five foot seven she wasn’t small, but her frame was petite, except for her ass—of which he had a spectacular view. The khaki skirt she wore molded over her butt and gave his imagination some ideas. Some things never changed.

  As she walked him through her office into the main studio, he noted the changes to the studio. There were two photos of him against the far wall. He’d only recognized them because of the shoot location, otherwise, he’d have thought they were someone else. In one, shadows over his face revealed a vulnerability in his eyes he didn’t know existed, or rather, tried his whole life to extinguish.

  For several beats, an internal silence drowned out the soft pitch of her voice. He stared at the photo and willed the openness to disappear. Waited for it. But it didn’t disappear. There it was for the entire world to see.

  A lightheaded feeling reminded him to breathe. He filled his lungs with oxygen before he turned his attention back to Izzy. She stared at him, head cocked.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her photo captured his bare soul, and she wondered what was wrong? Feeling unsettled, he shook his head. “Nothing—I guess I’m not used to anyone seeing me.” He looked back at the photo. “Really seeing me, anyway. It’s disconcerting.”

  A smile lit her face as she walked over to the photo and crouched next to it. “I loved this photo the moment I took it. I hope you don’t mind that I created a canvas for it. The way the shadows play over your face, there’s such sadness there—as if you’d spent your whole life hiding from something.” She looked back up at him. “What were you thinking about?”

  Even if he felt inclined to remember, he wouldn’t tell her. She already saw too much. He shook his head and walked over to the other portraits in the studio. “Don’t remember.”

  She angled her head up at him and keen eyes surveyed his every move. “It’s okay. Everything I need to know is in that photo.”

  He ran a hand through his hair in an effort to shake the discomfort. “In case you didn’t know this before—you’re good. I didn’t even know I had that side of me.”

  The corner of her mouth quirked up revealing a dimple in her right cheek. She strode toward the photo next to him. “You know.” With a half shrug, she added, “You just choose to hide that part. It’s easier to be what people expect you to be.”

  Because she was too close to the truth, he changed the subject by turning his attention to the photo next to him where clouds billowed off a mountain rolling toward earth. “Where’d you take this photo?”

  Allowing the diversion, Izzy stepped closer to him, and a hint of jasmine and vanilla enveloped him. In that moment, he knew this impromptu photo tour was a bad idea. He wanted her, but when he had her, it wouldn’t be a quickie in her studio. He’d waited too many years for her.

  She must have noticed the tension in the air because her voice took on a breathy husky quality. “South Africa. I had a hell of a time pulling the car over on the wrong side of the road to catch the storm rolling off of Table Mountain.” Her dimples deepened with her smile. “Nick thought the clouds were going to swallow us up.”

  The dark thunderous storm clouds at odds with the russet color of the mountain and the sun-kissed rainbow pulled at something in him. As if the photograph understood how what he wanted to do and what he should do warred with him.

  “Izzy, I—”

  She turned to face him, eyes wide as if she knew what he wanted to do and wasn’t sure if she would let him.

  Jason lo
oked at her lips as she nibbled the corner, like she used to when she was nervous. Full and ripe, they invited him to taste them. Rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension, he closed the gap between them. He could ask for forgiveness later, but now, all he wanted to do was taste her perfect lips.

  Before he dipped his head, he flexed and unflexed the hand at her waist giving her a moment to walk away. But she didn’t. Her lips parted and the tip of her delicate pink tongue peeked out moistening her bottom lip. Body tense, he reached for her, massaging the back of her neck and her waist. “Izzy.” They stood like that for several moments as he worked the tension out of the back of her neck. He reveled in the feel of her delicate skin beneath his hands. She raised her head to look at him, and his body screamed for closeness.

  In the instant before their lips met, their breath commingled, and he felt the energy ebbing from her. What was meant to be a soft testing kiss, immediately changed to a more urgent one the moment her tongue met with his—teasing and tasting.

  Unable to stop the roaring, insistent, beat of his blood, and unable to calm the need, desperate for satiation, he deepened the kiss. Encouraged by her arms wrapping around his neck and her pliant body pressing into him, Jason shifted his hand from her waist to the small of her back and pressed her closer.

  Her arms tightened around him, and he couldn’t think for the howl of blood that rushed through his head. He was mindful they were in her studio and Nick could come down at any moment, but he couldn’t pull his lips from hers.

  Soft and moist and hungry. Wow. He brought his hands up from her waist to cup her face. “Izzy.”

  She mumbled something unintelligible into his mouth. He didn’t want to stop. Couldn’t think of enough reason to stop. He nipped her ripe lower lip.

  She rewarded him with a moan and wiggle, effectively rubbing her feminine core against the length of him. His cock surged and struggled for freedom from the confines of his jeans. Reflexively, his hand clenched in her hair. Instinct and need clouded every rational thought to take it slow.

  She responded by raking a hand up from the base of his neck up through his hair. The action sent sharp tingles to each of his nerves. Straining for control, he ripped his lips from hers, using the hand tangled in her hair to hold her motionless.

  “Damn—Izzy.” He rasped out her name as he drew in several generous breaths. Jason felt her hesitant attempt to disengage her hips from his, and he tightened his grip in her hair as his cock threatened to explode. “Do. Not. Move.”

  Her own harsh breaths mingled with her husky words as heavy lust lidded eyes fluttered open. “I’m s—sorry, I—”

  “Shh. Trying—get—control.” His inability to form cohesive sentences surprised him. He’d been with plenty of women, but none of them ever made him feel like he had an electric current connected to his dick. He dragged in another breath.

  “Why?”

  ****

  Was this what heaven felt like? If so, Izzy didn’t ever want to leave. She couldn’t believe she was in her studio making out with Jason Cartwright. Couldn’t believe Jason needed to get himself under control.

  None of this was her life. It had to be a dream fantasy she’d wake up from any moment now. Had to be.

  But she didn’t wake up. Jason’s body pressed insistently against her, and all she wanted was for him to bury himself inside her until the fiery ache in her core extinguished. For the first time in a long time, she felt bold and out of control and to her surprise, she liked it. More than liked it. It made her feel alive and beautiful and sexy.

  “Why do you want to be in control, Jason?” She rotated her hips against his, and he ground his teeth. His hand tugged on her hair almost to the point of pain. Almost.

  “Damn it, Izzy—”

  She silenced him by licking his bottom lip before she suckled it. His reaction was instant. In a swift movement, both hands gathered up her skirt going straight to her ass, cupping it, using it as leverage to pick her up. On instinct, she wrapped her legs around him.

  He braced her against a wall and adjusted her position so that his key directly positioned against her lock. The zinging pleasure drowned out any rational thought she possessed. All she wanted to was to feel like this forever. Liquid heat continued to pool at her core, and she moaned his name.

  His right hand spanned her waist, reaching up to cup her breast. She rolled her head back in pleasure, inviting him to feast on her neck. A rakish grin spanned his face as he bent his head. His lips made contact with the soft fabric covering her right breast.

  Through the fabric, she could feel his hot breath as he rubbed his lips over the bud again and again. She hissed out a curse when he repeated the motion with his teeth.

  She could hear the humor in his voice as he switched attention to her neck. “You like that do you?”

  She moaned a reply.

  He growled a response. “Good.” His thumb danced a pattern over her nipple as he laved the spot he’d bitten. “This too?”

  Unable to form a coherent thought, she tightened her grip with her legs.

  In some dark corner of the dust covered part of her mind, she knew she should stop. Knew she would not have sex with Jason in her studio with her son less than a few hundred yards away. Knew she was just a diversion for Jason for now, and come tomorrow, he would forget and discard her.

  She was going to hell. Might as well decorate her hand basket. Because if she was headed for hell, she damned well wanted to go for a good reason. Even the thought of going to hell couldn’t stop her hips from choreographing an ancient dance in time with his. Didn’t stop her body for preparing for his to claim hers. Didn’t stop the need that zinged from the edges of her toenails to the ends of her hair.

  She told herself she’d be able to stop in just a minute. That she needed to feel alive for just a few more minutes before she could go back to her normal staid, respectable self. Every woman deserved to make out like a teenager at least once, didn’t they?

  Jason’s lips found hers again and commanded them to respond. His tongue cajoled hers to come out and play. “So sexy.”

  His eyes met hers, and Izzy read every bit of need he felt in their depths. Breath hot and fevered against her neck, he whispered, “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since that photo.”

  “Mmm hmm.” Completely incapable of speech, all she could do was move her hips in an effort to bring him closer.

  “Are you wearing anything like that under these clothes?”

  “Jason—” Her breath caught as he switched their position to a work table, working his hands between them.

  They slid under her t-shirt, exploring the skin beneath. All the while, his eyes never left hers. When his hands closed over her breasts, he bit off a curse. “Damn, you’re perfect.”

  Fingers shaking, she wrestled with his buttons, drawing his shirt open. Taking in the muscled planes, she muttered, “Likewise.”

  Impatient, he worked up the layers of her skirt.

  Panic threatened to break through her hazy sex fog. “Jason, I—uhm—”

  “Shh, relax. I just want to check something,”

  The blood roaring in her head forced out any capacity for coherent thought. “But, I—”

  His fingers slid over the satin band of her underwear, thumb nestled against her clit. “Baby, you never did answer my question.”

  For every two strokes, he coaxed a moan out of her. “Wh—what question?”

  He grinned and stroked again. Once. Twice. “In the photo—were you wet?”

  Tension coiled in her sex. All she wanted to do was continue her hurtling speeds toward climax. “Jason, please.”

  He paused his stroking to slip his finger along the edge of her panties. His finger lifted the edge, and slid past springy curls to reach her core. “Shit—Izzy. You’re so soft, ready.” He groaned into her neck.

  “I want—” Before she could finish the thought, the crackle of the intercom interrupted her.

  “Mom, foo
d’s here. Where’s your wallet?”

  Jason ripped his lips from her neck, spouting a litany of four letter words. Spell broken, Izzy dragged in a breath and struggled to unlock her legs from his back. Disengaging from him on shaky legs, she strode to the other side of the studio to reply. “Uhm, check the big black camera bag. I didn’t take my purse to the shoot.” She prayed the waver in her voice wouldn’t betray what she’d been up to.

  With trembling fingers, she rearranged her button down and khaki skirt and patted down her hair in an attempt to pull herself together before she faced Jason. Once she’d readjusted her bra and shirt, she turned, only to find him directly behind her. Alarmed, she attempted to take a step back. Damn he has the feet of a ninja.

  “Hey, relax,” he soothed.

  Easy for him to say. If the tabloids held any truth, he did this sort of thing all the time. She, on the other hand, did not. “I am relaxed.” Then because she couldn’t think of anything else to say, she added, “Dinner’s here.”

  He nodded, his eyes narrowed. “Please don’t do that whole closed up thing on me.” He took her hand inclining his head toward the work table. “I didn’t mean to get carried away. I’m sorry if it was too much.”

  Damn. Did he have to be sweet too? At the risk of sounding like the rank amateur she was, Izzy shook her head. “I’m just not used to—that. Rather, I’m not usually so impulsive.”Gah, I’m a moron. “I mean, I don’t run around doing…” Gah, shut up! Shut up now! Her lips slammed shut.

  He still held her hand. As he caressed her knuckles, he asked, “Even with Simon?”

  Instantly annoyed, she tried to disengage her hand. But he didn’t release her. The last thing she needed was a reminder that she’d just been crawling all over him.

  Shame and spite made her lash out. “Are you jealous?”

  The smile he gave her teetered on a ledge between predatory and sheepish. “Maybe I am.”

  She scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

  He still didn’t let go of her hand as he tugged her toward the door to the backyard. “Is that so farfetched?”