Casual Affair (Slow Seductions)

by Melanie Munton

  “How y’doin’, baby?” If people thought her accent was thick, their father had thirty more years of deep southern exposure in his. Every word out of his mouth oozed with a heavy twang. It was the most comforting sound in the world to her.

  “I’m good. How are you? How’s Mama?”

  “Doing jus’ fine. You know her. Always got some charity somethin’-or-other to run, so she’s stayin’ busy.”

  “Been able to play much golf lately?”

  “Hopin’ to play this weekend, if your mama will let me. She’s threatenin’ to hide my clubs if I don’t get my cholesterol down. You’d think the exercise would do me good,” he grumbled.

  She laughed at his dejected voice. “And the nineteenth hole has nothing to do with that, of course.”

  “I’m deeply offended by the implication that I’d cheat on my ridiculously strict diet,” he drawled, though they both knew that was exactly what he did on those golf outings.

  “Daddy, you know better than to argue with Mama when she’s worried about you, and with good reason. She doesn’t make threats lightly. Where do you think I get it from?”

  He laughed. “Speaking of which. How’s the business doin’?”

  “Great, actually. We should be able to make our last payment to you on time.”

  His sigh came through the receiver. “How many times do I have to say I don’t care about the money? It was my way of helping my girls. That’s what a father’s supposed to do. I never expected nor wanted to be paid back. I would rather you keep the money and put it back into the business.”

  She waited until he was done, then said the same thing she had so many times before. “And how many times have we told you it’s important to us to pay back our debts?”

  She hated feeling beholden to anyone, financially or otherwise. Even if it was her own father. She and Felicity needed their business to be able to stand on its own two feet, and that meant being completely free of debt.

  “I know,” he replied, his tone light. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you. My independent Honey Bea.”

  They talked for a few more minutes and hung up. She decided to call it a day, the phone call allowing her to end work hours on a positive note. With Felicity out of the office, she locked up and went home to sprawl on the couch with a bottle of red wine and an entire block of Hershey’s chocolate.

  Communication between her and Zane had been sparse since their ice cream kiss, but her nights had been filled with thoughts and dreams of him since then. Envision Tech was supposed to get all the display merchandise in by this weekend, so she and Felicity would be back to working at the launch store starting Monday.

  Which meant her days would once again be consumed by Zane.

  As much as it worried her, she was still counting down the hours.

  About five minutes after she started Drop Dead Gorgeous—one of their all-time favorite movies—Felicity slammed through the front door of the townhouse, dropped her purse on the living room floor, and plopped down beside Bea on the couch.

  Uh-oh.

  She wordlessly extended her wineglass to her sister, who threw the entire contents back in two gulps. For a girl who didn’t drink very much, the action spoke volumes.

  “Had a meeting with Gabe today, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Felicity mumbled, sounding frustrated. “Nothing but polite handshakes and friendly smiles, as always.”

  Millionaire Gabe Wexler was another client of theirs—a financial genius, apparently. And Felicity was crushing on him…bad. In her defense, the man was downright beautiful, so Bea understood the attraction. But it seemed to be one-sided, since he hadn’t asked Felicity out yet. Unfortunately, her sister was one of the shiest people on the planet, so Bea didn’t see her taking the initiative there.

  “Remind me again why it would be okay for you to date Gabe, yet I can’t do the same with Zane?”

  Felicity looked at her in disbelief. “One, I never said I would date Gabe. Two, because if a guy so much as learns your bra size, you freak out, thinking he’s getting too personal.”

  “Excuse me?” Bea scowled at her sister.

  “You don’t open yourself up to people. It’s either sex-only with you or nothing at all. And Zane doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would be okay with that.”

  “Meaning…?”

  “Meaning he doesn’t seem like the type who would be willing to share. And if he wanted to, say, gee, I don’t know, have an actual relationship, with dates and flowers and the whole deal, you would drop him like a hot potato. And then he would drop us like a hot potato. It’s too risky. Best you keep it in your pants, Don Juanita.”

  Bea wanted to be offended by all that, but she couldn’t take umbrage if it was the truth. Or at least, it used to be the truth.

  But lately, trying an “actual relationship” with Zane didn’t sound that bad. Jeez. She didn’t even cringe at the R-word anymore.

  God, she was losing her mind.

  “And you, of course, couldn’t possibly screw it up with Gabe if he asked you out? His account is a pretty big one, too, you know.”

  Felicity scoffed and poured more wine into Bea’s glass. “Yes, I could and would definitely screw it up. But there’s no point in even discussing it, because it’s never going to happen. Might as well start buying my cats now so I’ll have company when I die alone.” She offered Bea an air toast and drank.

  “Okay, Mopey Dopey,” Bea said, throwing an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “One, that made no sense. Two, let’s just watch some beauty queens kill each other so we can laugh and forget about stupid men. No more serious talk.”

  There was a pregnant pause before Felicity turned toward her. “Not going out tonight?”

  Bea reached for the remote. “Nope. Not in the mood.”

  Normally, yes, she would be at some bar or club right now having fun. Maybe getting to know a new guy. It wasn’t typical for her to spend her Friday nights at home. But the whole idea had lost its luster for the past few months.

  There had only been one man on her mind.

  And definitely only one bed she wanted to be in.

  She felt her sister studying her for a few more seconds before her focus drifted back to the television. She didn’t ask any more questions, which was a good thing.

  Because Bea wouldn’t have had any answers for her.

  Hell, she didn’t even have answers for herself.

  The man was messing with her life.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning, Bea awoke from a dream where Zane had been licking ice cream off her naked body, slowly warming her goose bump–covered flesh. Ironically, she had woken up drenched in sweat.

  She needed to clear her head of him in a bad way. Exercise all of the lust out of her body…before she did something desperate and stupid.

  It was a beautiful, sunny Saturday morning as she started running along her normal path through the city. She pushed herself hard, working up a pretty good sweat within the first half mile. But no matter how fast she went or how heavily she breathed, only one face appeared in front of her. Only one voice reverberated in her ears.

  Only one night played over and over in her mind, so potent it felt as though it had happened just yesterday.

  But no man was allowed to take up residence in her head for that long.

  She had to evict him…and fast.

  Hoping it would distract her, she decided to change up her route a little. She headed toward the park two blocks away instead of running through the National Mall. There was a track at the park, so she could run a few laps around it before continuing along her normal route.

  The first thing she saw when she entered the park was a group of guys playing soccer in the big grassy area the track circled. Her interest was piqued, especially when she noticed they were divided up between shirts and skins.

  Bingo.

  That was exactly the distraction she needed. Eye candy. Some other gorgeous man to drool over
. Someone who wasn’t Zane Price. Damn him. He was ruining her life.

  She started running along the track, approaching the group of guys.

  Then her whole world stopped.

  Because she recognized one particular stubbled face among the panting, sweating, bevy of men.

  Zane.

  And great Abraham Lincoln, he was on the skins team.

  Thank you, Jesus.

  She stared at Zane’s bare chest, hardly believing what she was seeing. She hadn’t seen his body since they had sex, and even then she hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the dark.

  But this was daylight, and his tanned skin glistened under the sun’s rays, allowing her to better appreciate his bulging muscles that were flexing and tightening with exertion. Now, she could memorize every detail.

  She’d always had a weakness for athletes.

  And this one might be the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

  She slowly became aware of how stalkerish she looked, having stopped in the middle of the track to ogle the man. But before she could start running again, dragging her dignity along behind her, Zane’s head swung around in her direction.

  His eyes immediately connected with hers. He squinted for a second before realizing it was her, and that sexy smile she was falling in love with took over his face.

  That smile was going to be the death of her.

  He yelled, “Time out,” at the rest of the guys, and ran over to where she stood with her limbs immobile.

  Her pulse spiked with every long stride he took.

  “Bea, hey.” God, why did he have to sound so happy to see her? Running away was so much harder when he sounded like that. “What are you doing here?”

  Eye contact, Bea. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look—

  She looked down.

  And, oh, darlin’. Her British crumpet was built.

  Not that she didn’t already know that, but she had never seen him like this before, all sweaty and—

  Wait. He wasn’t her anything.

  Snap the hell out of it, girl.

  “Um. Just out for a run,” she said to his abs. Like, yeah, she was actually having a conversation with his six-pack—her eyes hadn’t met his for that whole sentence.

  She had never before used the word lickable to describe any part of a man. But mother of all things holy, Zane’s abs were so very lickable.

  He cleared his throat. “See anything you like?”

  She finally snapped out of it. He looked amused, as if trying not to laugh. But those blue eyes of his were soft as he waited for her response, tender even.

  She flushed and looked away, wondering how much more embarrassment she could handle. She never could keep her balance around him.

  “Sorry,” she blurted out. “I’ll let you get back to your game.” She was a nanosecond away from bolting before she could humiliate herself further.

  “Would you care to join us?”

  That crisp accent was caressing her from head to toe. She was loathe to turn down an opportunity for a game of anything, especially if she was playing with him. But she wasn’t sure it was such a great idea.

  “It’s not rugby, after all,” he added, those eyes sparkling.

  She bit her bottom lip, sifting through her options. “Well, I—”

  “Unless, of course, you’re too intimidated to play with a bunch of big, brawny men… A little thing like you probably couldn’t keep up, anyway.”

  Oh, he knew just how to play her, how to hook her. The look on his face was both knowing and devious. Jerk.

  She still took the bait.

  “Puh-lease. You soccer players are the biggest wimps of all.” She started walking toward the group of guys without waiting on Zane.

  He caught up and walked beside her, looking down with a challenging smirk. “Maybe your Yank football players are. But we Brits are real men,” he said, dramatically puffing out his chest and flexing his biceps.

  She was pretty sure he wasn’t trying to impress her with that display, but nevertheless…mission accomplished.

  “We’ll see about that,” she muttered.

  His smile just got bigger. “Brilliant. You can be skins.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  How did she just keep getting sexier?

  It pleased Zane that Bea was willing to play football at all. Most women would have been hesitant to be the only girl playing with a bunch of unruly men. But the fact that she was actually good at football?

  Huge turn-on.

  And apparently not just for him.

  He had been joking about her being on the skins team, of course. She was already exposing enough skin in her spandex outfit. But the other blokes had been checking out her arse in those skimpy running shorts all afternoon. Or zoning in on her tits, which bounced with every move she made. He’d seen them looking.

  And it pissed him the hell off.

  Possessiveness snaked around him, making his blood boil every time he saw one of the bastards looking at her. She wasn’t officially his, but there was something between them. And he bloody well didn’t like other man fantasizing about her. In fact, it made him want to throw her over his shoulder like a caveman and lock her up in his flat so no man could ever lay eyes on her again. Anytime one of the other guys actually touched her, he wanted to stomp over and rip the blighter’s arms from his body.

  Yes, he was aware of how mental that sounded.

  But did he care?

  No.

  He had made sure everyone took extra care with Bea on the field—he hadn’t been lying when he said they could get a bit rough. He had made it quite clear to all of them that if she got bruised, they would get beaten. Though it didn’t surprise him a bit when she had knocked a few of the guys on their arses. Between seeing that and the way sweat was running down her chest into her cleavage, he had been dealing with a raging hard-on all afternoon.

  Tough to run like that.

  “Oi, Price!” Danny yelled over from a few feet way. “You going to stare after your lass all day, or are you going to play some defense?”

  “Sod off!”

  The guy just laughed at him. Wanker.

  Zane’s team scored a goal on the other end of the field, causing cheers to break out and backs to be slapped.

  And a female voice shouted, “Blimey bloody bollocks!” Bea was kicking at the grass with a scowl on her face.

  Okay. They may have taught her a few curse words.

  He burst into laughter with the rest of the guys at hearing British slang inflected with a southern twang. It sounded ridiculous. Bea tried to hide it, but the corners of her mouth tipped up, despite the fact that her team was down by two goals.

  She’d warned him about her competitive side, saying it could get a little intense.

  He loved that about her.

  It meant she was passionate about what she was doing. He’d seen that same passion transfer to other areas of her life, and it was one of the things he admired most about her.

  One thing among so many.

  This afternoon had changed something within him, cementing his decision to try to take the next step with her. Sure, she was still jumpy and clearly relationship-phobic, but he had a plan.

  Basically, he was going to trick her into dating him.

  Fine. He didn’t say it was a good plan.

  They had already proven they could have fun together without having sex. Paintballing, the night at the bar, the ice cream, soccer this afternoon were all evidence that they enjoyed spending time together. All he had to do was keep getting her to hang out with him like this…without calling them “dates.”

  Yes, he’d throw in some sex, because they wouldn’t be able to control themselves.

  And then he’d just pray she would develop the same feelings that were already stirring in him.

  He didn’t know what those feelings were, exactly. Couldn’t define them. But he knew he just had to explore them. Had to find a way to keep her in his life, both insid
e and outside of work. The only alternative would be to let her go, to keep his distance from her.

  And that just wasn’t an option.

  He would not use trigger words when talking to her like “boyfriend” or “girlfriend,” “exclusive,” “commitment,” or anything else that might give her heart palpitations. Labels obviously freaked her out, so he wouldn’t use them, or call it what it really was.

  Dating.

  When he looked over the field and saw Bea watching him with a single-minded intensity, everything below his waist stood at attention. When a gorgeous woman looked at a man like that, he couldn’t not show some type of reaction.

  Oh, yeah. She wants it.

  As her eyes scanned over his naked torso, arousal slammed into him with such force he almost ran over and tackled her right there on the grass.

  He needed to get them out of there.

  Fast.

  Thankfully, the game was over fifteen minutes later. She didn’t even seem to notice that her team had lost. Instead, she was still looking at him with fire in her eyes, licking those full lips like she wanted to have him for dessert.

  That was enough.

  He jogged over to her. “Got your car here?”

  She just shook her head. He knew her heart was pounding same as his, and not from the game. He recognized the telltales signs of lust.

  He nodded. “Good. Come on.”

  They’d just started to walk away when Mike shouted, “Hey, you two! You going to come get a pint with us?”

  Zane looked over his shoulder. “We’re good. You lot go on ahead.”

  Mike just grinned knowingly, and Zane turned away before he had to listen to any ribbing from the guys. He didn’t have the patience to deal with them.

  His dick needed touched, sucked, or fucked in the next five minutes or he would develop a serious medical condition.

  They reached his car without saying a word. He drove like a bat out of hell back to his flat, desperate to get her under him before she changed her mind. The air in the car was instantly sexually charged. His body became electrified when she reached over and began stroking him through his thin gym shorts.

  “Oh, fuck, yes. Just like that, luv.”