by Jill Shalvis
The drive to his Hyde Park home brought with it a tornado of confusion that made his head spin. Craig Wyatt and Sheila Houston? The player rumored to be having an affair with the owner’s wife was Wyatt? Brody would’ve never expected it from the straight-laced Mr. Serious.
If it was true, then that meant the idea of bribes exchanging hands in the franchise might not be a lie after all. Craig Wyatt might have the personality of a brick wall, but he was the captain of the team, as well as the eyes and ears. He frequently kept track of everyone’s progress, making sure they were all in tiptop shape and focused on the game. If he suspected anyone had taken a bribe, he would’ve investigated it, no doubt about it.
Jeez, was Wyatt the source Sheila had referred to in that interview? Had he been the one to tell her about the bribes?
Or…
Shit, had Wyatt taken a bribe himself? No, that didn’t make sense. Sheila wouldn’t draw attention to the bribery and illegal betting if her lover was one of the guilty parties.
Brody steered into his driveway and killed the engine. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to ward off an oncoming headache.
Damn. This was not good at all.
He didn’t particularly care what or who Craig Wyatt did in his spare time, but if Wyatt knew something about these rumors…
Maybe he should just confront the man, flat out ask what he knew. Or maybe he’d ask Becker to do it for him. Becker was good at stuff like that, knew how to handle tough situations and still keep a clear head.
He rubbed his temples, then leaned his forehead against the steering wheel for a moment. Lord, he didn’t want to deal with any of this. If he had his way, this entire scandal would just disappear; he’d play out the rest of the season then resign with the Warriors or sign with a new team. His career would be secure and his life would be peachy.
And Hayden Houston would be right back in his bed. A guy could dream, after all.
* * *
“I WILL NOT WATCH porn,” Hayden muttered to herself later that night, stepping out of the enormous marble bathtub in the master suite of the penthouse. She reached for the terry-cloth robe hanging behind the door, slipped it on and tightened the sash around her waist.
Not that there was anything wrong with porn. She wasn’t a nun, after all—she’d watched a few X-rated videos in her twenty-six years. But she’d never used porn to get over a man before, and besides, she’d had six orgasms in two days. She should be thoroughly exhausted by now and not thinking about having sex at all.
Unfortunately, she was thinking about sex, and it was all Brody Croft’s fault.
At dinner, Darcy had again pointed out that a fling wouldn’t be the end of the world, but Hayden still wasn’t sold on the idea. She got the feeling that if she gave Brody an inch, he’d take a mile. That if she suggested a fling, he’d show up with an engagement ring.
Barefoot, she stepped out of the bathroom into the master bedroom, pushing wet hair out of her eyes. She’d finally gotten around to unpacking her suitcase this morning, but the suite’s huge walk-in closet still looked empty. She changed into a pair of thin gray sweatpants and a cotton tank top, brushed her hair and tied it into a ponytail, then headed for the kitchen.
Normally she hated hotels, but her father’s penthouse at the Ritz-Carlton surpassed any ordinary hotel suite. He’d lived here before marrying Sheila, and the apartment had everything Hayden could possibly need, including a large kitchen that was fully stocked and surprisingly cozy. It reminded her of her kitchen back home, making her homesick for the West Coast. In San Francisco, she hadn’t needed to worry about anything except how she was going to get her boyfriend into bed.
Here, she had her father’s problems, her stepmother’s lies and Brody Croft’s incessant attempts to get her into bed.
Quit thinking about Brody.
Right. He was definitely on tonight’s don’t-think-about list.
After she’d made a bowl of popcorn and brewed herself a cup of green tea, she got comfortable on one of the leather couches in the living area and switched on the TV. She was totally ready to lose herself in that van Gogh biography. Since she was teaching an entire course on him next semester, she figured she ought to get reacquainted with the guy.
She scrolled through the channels, searching for the program, but couldn’t seem to find it. The Biography Channel was telling the life story of a Hollywood actress who’d just been busted on cocaine charges. The History Channel featured a show on the Civil War. She kept scrolling. No van Gogh to be seen.
Great. Just freaking great. Could nothing go right in her life? All she’d wanted to do tonight was watch a show about her favorite artist and not think about Brody Croft. Was that really too much to ask?
Apparently so.
She skipped past a shocking number of reality shows, finally stopping on the Discovery Channel, which was playing a special on sharks. She sighed in resignation and settled the bowl of popcorn in her lap.
“The great white shark can smell one drop of blood in twenty-five gallons of water,” came a monotone voice.
Hayden popped a few kernels in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, watching as a lethal-looking shark swam across the screen.
“The great white does not chew his food. Rather, he takes massive bites and swallows the pieces whole.”
Yeah, like Brody…No Brody thoughts allowed, missy.
“There have been reports of great whites exceeding twenty feet in length. They can weigh in at over seven thousand pounds.”
Ten minutes and fifteen shark facts later, Hayden was stretching out her legs and wiggling her toes, wondering if she should apply some red nail polish. This shark documentary was getting old.
She pressed the guide button on the remote control, scrolled down, skipped the barrage of sports channels, stopped briefly on CNN, then scrolled again. She saw a listing for something called The Secretary and decided to click on it, but what came on the screen wasn’t the sitcom her students at Berkeley were always raving about.
It was, of course, porn.
“You’re a very fast typist, Betty.”
“Thank you, Mr. Larson. My fingers have always been my biggest asset.”
“I bet they have. Bring your hand a little closer.”
“Ooh, Mr. Larson, that tickles.”
“Do you like it?”
“Mmm, yes.”
“What about this?”
“Mmm, even better.”
Hayden had to bite her lip to refrain from bursting into laughter. On the screen, Betty and her boss began making out. Mr. Larsen’s big hairy hand disappeared under Betty’s conservative skirt. Loud moaning ensued.
She shook her head and pressed a button on the remote. Betty and Mr. Larson disappeared, replaced by a great white shark.
You want me, come and get me.
The sound of Brody’s sandpaper-rough voice filled her head. She let out a long breath, exasperated. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about the guy? And why couldn’t she stop wanting him? She wanted him so badly she could practically feel those big muscular arms around her waist.
But sometimes the things you wanted weren’t necessarily the ones you needed.
At the moment, she needed to concentrate on supporting her dad through his divorce and maybe finally call Doug back to tell him she’d slept with someone else and that it was time to turn their break into a breakup.
But what she wanted was one more night with Brody Croft.
It doesn’t have to be black and white.
She sat there for a moment, chewing on her lower lip as Darcy’s words buzzed around in her brain.
Was her friend right? Was she overanalyzing all of this? She’d always had the tendency to pick and prod at each situation until she’d sucked every last drop of fun or enjoyment from it. This wasn’t an art history lecture she needed to plan for—it was just sex. Was there really anything wrong with delving into that gray area and enjoying a carnal ride with a man she found wild
ly attractive?
She turned off the television and reached for the phone.
6
THE CALL FROM HAYDEN came as a total shock. Brody had just stepped out of the shower, where he’d stood under the hot spray for a good half hour to get the kinks out of his muscles. He’d intended to grab a beer from the fridge and watch the highlight reel on ESPN, maybe give Becker a call to talk about Craig Wyatt, and then his cell phone began chirping out a tinny rendition of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 and Hayden’s throaty voice was on the other end.
Come over.
She’d only spoken those two words, then disconnected, leaving him both pleased and befuddled.
Obviously she’d finally changed her mind and taken him up on his offer to continue the fantasy she’d started two nights ago, but was it still just sex she craved? Or was she looking for something extra this time around?
Shit, he was getting ahead of himself here. Hayden was simply inviting him back into her bed for another wild romp, not offering to make a commitment.
He quickly put on a pair of jeans and pulled an old Warriors jersey over his head. Then he grabbed his car keys from the credenza in the hallway, shoved his wallet into his back pocket and left the house, breathing in the damp night air.
It was mid-May, which meant the nights were still cool and the chance of a thunderstorm or even a freak blizzard wasn’t all that far-fetched, but Brody loved this time of year, when spring and summer battled for domination over Chicago’s climate. He’d lived in this city almost eight years now, and he’d grown to appreciate and enjoy everything about it, even the indecisive seasons.
When he pulled up in front of Hayden’s hotel, a light drizzle of rain was sliding across the windshield. He hopped out of the SUV and entered the lobby just as a bolt of lightning filled the sky. Thunder roared ominously in the distance, growing louder and louder until the rain became a steady downpour.
Shaking droplets of water from his hair, he approached the check-in desk and asked the clerk behind it to ring Hayden’s suite. A moment later, the clerk walked him over to the elevator and inserted a key into the panel that would allow Brody access to the penthouse, then left him alone in the car.
The elevator soared upward, its doors opening into the suite, where Hayden was waiting for him.
“I have some ground rules,” she said in lieu of a greeting.
He grinned. “Hello to you, too.”
“Hello. I have some ground rules.”
He tossed his car keys on a glass table beside one of the couches and moved toward her.
Even in sweats, she looked amazing. He liked how she’d pulled her hair back in a messy ponytail, how a few haphazard strands framed her face, which was devoid of makeup. He especially liked how her thin tank top didn’t hide the fact that she wore no bra.
His mouth ran dry as he dragged his gaze across those gorgeous breasts, the outline of her dusky nipples visible through the white shirt.
Her fair cheeks grew flushed at his perusal. “Don’t ogle. It’s unbecoming.”
He grinned. “Ah, I was wondering where Miss Prim and Proper had gone. Hello, Professor, nice to see you again.”
“I am not prim and proper,” she protested.
“Not in bed anyway…”
“Ground rules,” she repeated firmly.
He released a sigh. “All right. Get it out of your system.”
She leaned against the arm of the couch, resting her hands on her thighs. “This is only going to be sex,” she began, her throaty voice wavering in a way that brought a smile to his lips. “Continuing the fantasy, or whatever it was you said. Agreed?”
“I’m not agreeing to anything yet. Is there more?”
“My father can’t know anything about it.” She paused, looking uncomfortable. “And I’d prefer if we weren’t seen in public together.”
His nostrils flared. “Ashamed of being linked to a hockey player?”
“Look, you already know the franchise is taking some heat, Brody. I don’t want to make things worse for my dad by giving the media more fuel for the fire they’re determined to start.”
He had to admit her words made sense. After seeing Craig Wyatt whispering with Sheila Houston at the arena today, Brody had no interest in stoking the fire. Best-case scenario, if he was spotted with Hayden, the press would sensationalize the relationship the way they were currently sensationalizing everything else associated with the Warriors. Worst-case scenario, a jerk reporter would insinuate that the team owner’s daughter knew of her father’s guilt and was either trying to shut Brody up because he was involved, or sleeping with him to find out what he knew.
He didn’t particularly like either of those scenarios.
Still, he wasn’t about to let Hayden get her way entirely. He had a few demands himself.
“If I agree to your rules, you have to agree to mine,” he said roughly, crossing his arms over his chest.
She swallowed. “Like what?”
“If you’re in my bed, that’s the only bed you’ll be in.” He set his jaw. “I won’t share you, especially not with the guy waiting for you in California.”
“Of course.”
“And you have to promise to keep an open mind.”
Interest flickered in her gaze. “Sexually?”
“Sure. But emotionally, too. All I’m saying is that if things between us get…deeper, you can’t run away from it.”
After a beat of silence, she nodded. “I can do that. And do you agree to keep whatever we do here to yourself?”
“I can do that,” he mimicked with a grin.
“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked. “Take off your clothes already.”
* * *
HAYDEN COULD barely contain her amusement as Brody pulled his jersey over his head and tossed it aside. He reminded her of a kid on Christmas morning. The eagerness practically radiated from his tall, powerful body, but when he pushed his jeans down his legs there was nothing comical about the situation anymore.
His cock sprang up against the material of his boxers, demanding attention and making Hayden’s mouth grow dry.
No matter how unsettling she found Brody’s terms, it was too late to reverse her decision. He wanted her to keep an open mind, fine. But she highly doubted things between them would get deeper, as he’d suggested. Their one-night stand may have turned into a fling, but she was confident it wouldn’t go further than that.
Besides, right now she didn’t want or need to think about the future, not when there were more important things to focus on. Such as Brody’s spectacular body and all the things she wanted to do to it.
An impish grin lifted the corner of her mouth as she remembered what he’d done to her body the night before at the bar. Her next move suddenly became very clear.
“The keeping-an-open-mind part,” she said mischievously. “It goes for you, too, right?”
Brody kicked aside his boxers and fixed her with an intrigued stare. “What do you have in mind?”
She didn’t answer. Crooking her finger at him, she gestured for him to follow her down the hallway. They entered the bedroom, where she turned her finger to the bed and said, “Get comfortable.”
Brody raised his brows. “Are you planning to join me?”
“Eventually.”
He lowered himself onto the bed and leaned against the mountain of pillows at the headboard.
Fighting a smile, Hayden swept her gaze over Brody’s long naked body sprawled before her.
“I’m feeling lonely,” he murmured. “Are you going to stand there all night and watch me?”
“Maybe.”
“What’ll it take to get you to come here?”
She chewed on the inside of her cheek, thoughtful. “I don’t know. You’d have to make it worth my while, give me a good reason to get into that bed with you.”
He chuckled and grasped his shaft with his hand. “This isn’t reason enough?”
She laughed. “God, you’re arrogant.
” She stared at his erection, the way his fingers had curled around the base, and moisture gathered in her panties. There was something seriously enticing about watching this man touch himself.
“C’mere,” he cajoled. “You don’t really want to make me do this alone, do you?”
His gruff voice sent shivers through her, making her nipples poke against her tank top. “I don’t know,” she said again. “I’m getting pretty turned-on watching you right now…”
Still watching his hand, she strode toward the desk under the curtained window, pulled the chair out and lowered herself on it. “Tell me what you’d want me to do, if I was lying there with you.”
Something raw and powerful flashed in his smoky blue eyes. “I think you already know.”
“Humor me.”
A hint of a smile lifted one corner of his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he moved his hand up his shaft. From where she sat she could see a bead of moisture at the tip. Her sex throbbed.
“Well, I’d definitely encourage you to bring your tongue into play,” he said, his voice lowering to a husky pitch.
He squeezed his erection.
Uncontrollable need raced through her body and settled between her legs.
“Some licking would have to be involved,” he continued, propping one hand behind his head while his other hand continued stroking. “Sucking, of course.”
“Of course,” she agreed, shocked by the pure lust resonating through her.
Brody shot her a wolfish look.
She gasped when he quickened his pace. No man had ever done that in front of her before, and the sexual heat pulsating through her body was so strong she could barely breathe. There was something so kinky, so dirty about the way he was lying there, stroking himself while she watched. And that she was still fully clothed only made the situation hotter. It gave her the upper hand, reminding her of a fantasy she hadn’t dared to think about in years. Scratch that—she’d thought about it only yesterday, when she’d seen Brody at the arena.
She licked her lips, debating whether or not to bring it up.
