Spring Training

by KB Winters

  She threw her hands up, coming to the end of her tirade.

  “You finished?” I asked, cocking one eyebrow.

  She didn’t answer—just shot me a disgusted look.

  “Are you sure he’s what you want?”

  “Yes. He is. He’s kind and he’s fun and he gets me. Something you never tried to do—unless you were controlling some part of me—or—or my life!”

  Every fiber of my being pulled and twisted, urging me to stop, to keep the truth to myself. It would only hurt her, and she didn’t deserve that. I exhaled. “Megan?”

  Her eyes narrowed in response. “What? What kind of bullshit are you going to feed me now?”

  I clenched my jaw and stared at her. She was so beautiful and I hated to hurt her—but I had to tell her. Not for my own personal feelings, but for hers—before it got too deep.

  “Logan’s married.”

  Continued in Timeless Passion Book 3!

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  Timeless Passion

  Book 3

  By

  KB Winters

  Copyright © 2015 KB Winters

  Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 KB Winters

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Chapter One — Megan

  Logan’s married. Married. He’s married…How could he be fucking married?

  Grant’s words kept twisting through my mind as I spun on my heel and stalked out of his office. I went back to my cubicle just long enough to grab my bag and then raced out of the office without looking back. I didn’t even want to know if Grant was following behind me.

  I kept my head down as I half-ran down the hall, to avoid eye contact with anyone else in the building. I had no idea what other people in the office knew about Grant and me, although I was sure the speculation was there running in the shadows behind us. Whatever people thought, I didn’t need to add fuel to the fire by letting our spat spill out into the hallways. Plus, I really didn’t want or need an audience for my impending breakdown.

  I hopped into an empty elevator just as the doors were sliding shut, and rode to the bottom, biting my lip to keep the tears at bay. As soon as the doors started to open again, I pushed past them into the quiet underground lot. I wove around the shining cars, all glossy and gleaming, made more so through the filter of my watery eyes. I spotted mine and hurried over to it with the keys ready in my hand. Only once I was behind the wheel did I release all the air in my lungs with a whoosh as I collapsed against the steering wheel. My eyes were burning, but I sucked back the tears.

  Logan was married.

  And I knew it couldn’t be a lie. Grant wasn’t the type to outright lie about something like that. I may have had a series of new questions about Grant, but in my heart, I knew he wasn’t a liar. I didn’t know how he knew, when he’d found out, or what any of it meant yet, but I knew he wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.

  Holy shit. I took another deep breath and pushed off from the steering wheel, settling back into the plush leather seats. I gave myself another minute to get it together and then pressed the sleek, silver button that brought the engine roaring to life underneath me. I let the rumble of power of the huge engine massage my mind, losing myself in the purr, before finally forcing my eyes to snap open.

  Minutes later, I was speeding down the highway, aimlessly. Most of the time, a long drive had a calming, mind clearing effect, but as I cruised around the sun bathed streets, my thoughts only got louder and louder in my head. I tried to drown it out with music and the rush of the wind blowing through the open windows, but nothing eased my nagging mind. Whenever there was a break between songs or a lull at a stoplight, the thoughts were right there—pulling at me once again.

  I tried telling myself that it didn’t matter, that I didn’t care, but it did matter, and I couldn’t let it go. Of course it mattered. But, as I tried to piece it all together—I couldn’t figure out why. Logan and I had so much fun, so mush laughter, like we were meant for each other. And it was nothing but a betrayal. And God knows it hurt—but why did it have to hurt so deep?

  I was almost rounding back to the hotel where I’d been hiding out when it hit me, it wasn’t about Logan—it was about what he represented. Or rather, what I thought he had represented. We’d met under the worst possible circumstances, but even after a few hours spent together, he’d given me a hope that maybe, just maybe, things—my life—could be different.

  Even as the thought crossed my mind, Grant’s name echoed through, ringing in my ears. Didn’t Grant make me feel that way? That my life could be different? Sure, since entering my world, Grant had opened it and stretched it beyond my wildest dreams, both in terms of what I was capable of, and possibly, something deeper than that. Something that went beyond the walls of his bedroom. He’d turned a key inside of a lock that I hadn’t even known was there before. But, I knew that kind of relationship wasn’t sustainable. What Grant and I shared was exciting and passionate, but we didn’t belong in the same place. There was no way we could find a way to build anything from the foundation that we had. And, after all, finding him with the blonde, the one who had spilled his dark, ugly secret, I was more convinced than ever that there was no future for us.

  But Logan…I let my heart drift back over the possibility, feeling the ache and squeeze in my chest. Logan had spoken about travel and art like they were things essential to live and breathe. He had a passionate fire inside of him, and we connected on so many levels it was impossible to ignore. I was attracted to him, not in the same way as I was to Grant, but Logan was a handsome man and there had been a time when I’d wondered what it would be like to explore that side of him—if his passion and zest for life spilled into his prowess behind closed doors.

  I blinked hard and shook my head as I waited for yet another light to change. I needed to shove it all aside. I was running out of time to get my shit together and obsessing over two men—neither of which I wanted to see again—was not going to get the diploma into my hand.

  With my new mantra in place, I sped down the road and didn’t think once about either of them until right before I closed my eyes that night. For a brief flicker, as my head rested into the pillow, Grant’s deep, dark eyes were staring back at me.

  * * * *

  I woke up the next morning feeling fresh and free, as if all traces of the day before had been fragments from a bad dream. I got dressed and prepared for classes as though everything were normal, even singing along to a few songs as I went through the motions to get ready. I smiled at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I swiped the dark maroon lipstick across my lips before blowing a kiss at the mirror. Somehow, as I’d slept, my mind had worked out all the kinks and I’d decided that I didn’t have to choose. My life wasn’t hinged on some decision between Grant and Logan—or anyone or anything else for that matter. I was choosing me. And that meant throwing myself into my school work harder than I ever had before. I resolved to fix my sights on nothing but receiving my diploma and figured the rest would simply have to fall into place in front of me with each new step.

  Part of my plan was to never
see Grant again. Even with my mind made up, and my feet planted firmly in my new mission, I couldn’t have imagined facing him after everything that had been said and done. Instead, I would keep myself busy with school and use the time I was supposed to be at Timeless for my internship to cram in extra finals preparations.

  Three days passed and with each new morning it became a little easier to move forward on my new path. The extra study time was paying off, and the panic over not passing my classes was starting to subside. I’d almost made it to the weekend—during which I’d decided to give myself a much needed break and splurge on a shopping spree at my favorite consignment shop—I was leaving a coffee shop study session on the way to the boutique when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I stopped on the sidewalk and moved out of the press of foot traffic to check the caller ID.

  It was Grant.

  “Of course,” I sighed to myself.

  He’d called dozens of times since I’d stalked out of his office, but I’d sent all of his calls to voicemail and hadn’t bothered listening to his messages. I really couldn’t care less. I didn’t want to fall back into his charms. Which was too easy for me to do—especially since I’d spent every night cooped up in a hotel room stuffing my face with fast food and studying for a degree I didn’t know what I’d actually do with.

  I clicked the ignore button, pressed the phone back into my jeans, and continued back across campus to where I’d parked my car. I was finally caught up with schoolwork, and I was eager to get back to the hotel and celebrate with an indulgent soak in the tub—a luxury that was hard to come by when I was back at home sharing a bathroom with my brothers.

  I was ten feet down the sidewalk when I felt another buzz. This time, it was a text message from Grant:

  Answer the phone, or I will call the school and report you delinquent on your internship program.

  “Son of a bitch!” Before I could fire off an angry reply, a call interrupted my furious typing.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I shouted into the phone.

  Grant’s voice came through calm and unruffled, “Where are you?”

  “What do you want?” I replied through gritted teeth, ignoring his question.

  “Where are you, Megan?”

  I shut my eyes, mentally counting to five to tamp down the boiling rage that was surging through me. “School. Now, tell me what you want.”

  “I want to know why you haven’t been to the office. You have an obligation to complete the project for your internship, remember?” He continued. His voice was still smooth and infuriatingly silky.

  I continued down the sidewalk, glancing up and down the street before crossing over towards my car.

  “Megan?”

  “I’m here, Grant, I just don’t have anything to say to you. You know why I haven’t been at the office,” I replied. I wished I could keep my voice calm and collected, matching the coolness of Grant, but I couldn’t keep the frustration out of my voice and I knew I sounded terse and agitated. Oh hell, why did I even care? I refused to play his games, why should I care what he thought? I was over the drama. My life had been bursting at the seams with nothing but drama lately.

  The line was silent, and I held the phone away for a moment to see if the call was still active.

  “Grant? Are you—”

  Before I could finish the question, a sleek, black car pulled up where I’d been about to cross the street. “No, no I don’t,” Grant answered, rolling down the window and leaning across the seat.

  My eyes went as wide as dinner plates. “What the—how did you find me?” I flung another glance up and down the street as if the answer to my question was somewhere written on the pavement. Was there a beacon over my head or something?

  “Get in,” Grant ordered.

  I laughed a loud and hysterical laugh that bounced off the nearby buildings and echoed down the street. “You have got to be kidding me. I’m not going anywhere with you.” I rounded the front bumper of the car and continued across the street. I heard a door close behind me, and I knew within seconds he’d be on my heels—my short legs no match for his powerful strides—but I kept walking as fast as I could. I set my sights on my car across one more sidewalk, and began pumping my arms to propel myself there as fast as possible.

  “Megan! Stop!”

  “Go away Grant, I’m not interested.”

  “What about your internship?” He said, and I realized he was nearly caught up to me. He gripped my upper arm and I froze in place. “Megan, look at me.”

  I whipped around and yanked my arm out of his reach.

  “Grant! What. Do. You. Want?”

  Each syllable came out as its own demanding sentence as I squared off against him. He towered over me, but I didn’t care. To people walking by, I probably looked like I was going up against a grizzly bear. I was flooded with adrenaline as I puffed myself up to make the most of my petite frame and remind him that he wasn’t the only one with some fire in him.

  “Many things,” he answered, hauling me up onto the sidewalk again, out of the way of a car that zipped by.

  As the car passed, a gust of air hit me and I bumped into Grant. “Thank you,” I said, watching the speeding car and then took a step back out of Grant’s arms.

  “Why are you ignoring my calls?” He asked. His face remained unchanged from the moment he pulled up along the sidewalk. “I don’t like to be ignored.”

  I blew out a breath of hot air. “I don’t want to see you. There’s your big answer. Ya happy now?”

  He didn’t even blink as he replied, “Far from it.”

  I stared up into his dark eyes. “Grant, why won’t you just leave me alone? This would all be so much easier if you just let me go.”

  “You act like I’m the one who was lying to you. Logan is the one who was hiding things and keeping secrets from you, not me.” He raised his hand towards my face, but I batted him away before he could swipe away a dark strand of hair that was flapping in the wind.

  “That’s bullshit, Grant. You were lying to me too! You were keeping this whole club thing from me,” I said, hissing the word club as though it were in itself a scandal.

  “What difference does that make?” He challenged.

  I didn’t have an answer. I couldn’t put my finger on the exact reason that it bothered me so much, it just…did. But, I already felt like an idiot in front of Grant and didn’t want to make it worse.

  He didn’t wait for an answer. “Besides,” he added, “under what context would I have ever brought that up?”

  The fire sparked again. I didn’t know why it bothered me, but I did know that Grant should have told me. Especially before taking me to his bed. “Oh, I don’t know… maybe somewhere between the office and fucking me?” I retorted, throwing him a dramatic shrug.

  Grant scoffed and raked a hand through his hair. “Fine! And what would you have said if I’d told you?”

  “I don’t—I don’t know,” I stammered. It was another question I’d turned over in my mind trying to imagine how it would have come up, and if it had, how I would’ve reacted. The idea of Grant going to a BDSM club both pulled me in and pushed me away. Part of me knew my reaction was pure jealousy. Obviously, Grant had been with dozens…or, maybe even hundreds…of women, but I didn’t relish the thought of hordes of them pining for him at some dark, seedy club. Seeing the blonde perched on his desk at the office the other day had been more than enough of a taste for me.

  Grant was staring down at me, “Come on Megan, you’re going to have to do better than that. Tell me, what would you have said?”

  I felt my cheeks warm and cursed my fair complexion. “My opinion doesn’t really matter. The point I’m making is that you can’t stand here and tell me that you’re some saintly man who would never lie to me. You did. You made me think…” My voice trailed off.

  I cleared my throat, tamping down the emotion building inside me and continued, “And, besides that, I have no idea how you even found out about Loga
n. Were you spying on me? On him? I don’t even remember telling you his last name.”

  Grant stilled and didn’t answer my question. His eyes shifted over my shoulder, scanning the street, before returning to mine. A jolt surged through me at the reconnect and I found myself wishing that we were seeing each other under different circumstances, with a different topic. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel the same twisting and tightening in my chest.

  “Fine, whatever. You’re right, it doesn’t matter.” I pivoted on my heel and scanned traffic, waiting for a break to run over to my car. “Please, Grant, just let this go.”

  His fingers pressed into my bicep, reminding me that I hadn’t been dismissed. The small gesture sent another hot flicker of anger through me. Maybe Fuego was the best place for him, so he could be in control and domineering.

  I’d be lying if I said his take charge attitude hadn’t turned me on—it had, more than I’d ever thought possible—when we were together in his bed, but outside of that context, his demanding personality and overbearing attitude was enough to drive me fucking insane. I’d grown up with four older brothers, all of whom had been on some merry-go-round of trying to be in charge of the house, and I’d become used to fighting for my voice to be heard. I certainly wasn’t about to let Grant stomp all over that, no matter how good it felt in other circumstances. He had to know I wasn’t playing his game anymore.

  “I don’t make idle threats, Megan. I have no qualms telling the school that you haven’t shown up for the remaining three weeks of your internship.”

  “You know what? I don’t care!” I flung back, although it was a blatant lie. And judging by the look on Grant’s face, he knew it too.

  He arched a daring eyebrow at me.

  “I don’t,” I repeated, forcing my voice to be firmer.

  “Come with me,” Grant said, something new flashing in his eyes. I’d seen that look before, the look of hunger and desire that darkened his brooding stare. He was nearly impossible to resist in his normal mode, with his chiseled jawline, full lips, and dark, bedroom eyes. I had no doubt that he could get just about any woman he wanted to do…well…anything he wanted. And when he was actually trying to be seductive—I was fucked.