by Jill Shalvis
“But why? What do you see in me that makes you so sure we should pursue this?” She wasn’t prone to insecurities, but she couldn’t quite figure out why this sexy giant of a man wanted her and not some supermodel.
“What do I see in you?” He leaned closer. “You want a list? I can do that. I’ll skip how beautiful you are. That’s all just superficial.”
“I’m not above superficial.”
He chuckled. “So you’d like me to start with your wild green eyes that have been knocking me out since the second you strolled up to that pool table?”
She bit her lower lip. “Okay.”
Carefully, he took a lock of her hair between his fingers. “Or should I start with this silky brown hair that keeps making me want to reach out and touch it?” His attention dropped to her chest. “Or these breasts I can’t get enough of?” The fingers that had been toying with her hair moved to brush over her nipples, which were pushing against the thin fabric of her dress. “Or maybe these lips that keep begging me to taste them?” He brushed a thumb over her bottom lip.
Her lips parted, her eyelids grew heavy, and thankfully she was sitting down because she didn’t think she could hold up the weight of her body in her weakened state. This man was one smooth talker.
“Any of those places are fine,” she breathed.
Strong hands cupped her face. “Then there’s the intelligence that practically radiates from you. Did I ever tell you smart women seriously turn me on?” His thumbs began caressing her cheeks and he bent to whisper close to her ear. “You’re a walking contradiction, Hayden. Prim and proper one moment, wild and uninhibited the next. And the more I get to know you, the more I like what I find.”
Each of his words softened her heart, and every warm wisp of his breath against her ear made her quiver with need.
“When I left the penthouse the other night you wouldn’t let me kiss you,” he said, his lips just inches from hers. “I promised myself I wouldn’t kiss you again until you asked me to.”
“Kiss me, Brody. Please…”
In an instant, his lips touched hers, unleashing a trickle of soothing warmth that rivaled a shot of fine brandy. She moved a hand to his cheek and relished the light prickles of his five-o’clock shadow. And despite his tender touch, the hardness of his chest and the roughness of his cheek reminded her he was all man.
He groaned softly, and deepened the kiss. She parted her lips, inviting him to explore. She wanted to surround herself in his protective embrace. Her father’s behavior tonight had frightened her, hurt her, but Brody’s kiss made her forget about everything except this moment, the feel of his mouth on hers, the flick of his tongue and warm caress of his fingers on her cheek.
She slid her hand to the nape of his neck, allowing the soft curls to tickle her fingers. She took hold and pulled the kiss deeper. His slow, heavy groan spoke of acceptance and thanks.
His hands moved down her sides, and he lightly caressed the sides of her breasts with his thumbs, sending a pulsing charge through her system. It was the most gentle he’d ever been with her, a stark change from his rough, drugging kisses and eager exploratory hands. And as much as she was enjoying the kiss, she wanted more. She lowered her hands to the growing bulge in his tuxedo trousers, but he moved her hand away and broke the kiss.
For a moment, her eyes wouldn’t open and her mouth wouldn’t close. She was held in transition, her body still tingling from his touch. As she slowly raised her lids, she saw the deep sense of need in his eyes. Need that matched hers.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Curious, she let her eyelids flutter shut. She heard a rustling sound, felt Brody move closer and lean forward, then gasped when his hand circled her ankle.
“Don’t move.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
She swallowed. Waiting. Sighing when he ran his big warm hand up her leg, bunching her dress between his fingers as he traveled north. His touch suffused her with heat, made her pulse race. He glided his fingers along her inner thigh, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. And then his palm was pressed against her lace panties.
“What are you doing?” she breathed out.
“De-stressing you.” His tongue was suddenly on her ear, flicking against the tender lobe before suckling it.
Silent laughter shook her as her eyes popped open. “What’s with you and your need to intimately touch me in public?”
He rubbed his palm against her mound, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, “Want me to stop?”
“God, no.”
“Good.”
He moved his hand under her panties and pushed one long finger deep into her hot channel.
“You’re always so ready, so tight and wet,” he muttered.
Before she could tell him that he was the reason she was always ready, he covered her mouth with his. The kiss sucked the breath from her lungs, soft and warm and thrilling, his tongue matching the strokes of his finger. Long, deep, languid strokes. He slid another finger into her aching sex, kissing her, murmuring encouraging pleas against her lips, and then his thumb circled her clit and she exploded.
She cried out against his mouth, rocked against his fingers, her mind nothing but a big pile of mush while her body convulsed.
When she finally came back down to earth, she found Brody watching her with surprising tenderness. “You’re gorgeous, Hayden,” he murmured, withdrawing his fingers and fixing her dress.
Her heart squeezed. She opened her mouth to thank him—for the compliment, the orgasm, the shoulder to lean on—but he didn’t give her the chance. “Will you let me come home with you tonight? No big deal if you say no. I just, uh, thought I’d ask.”
He was so polite, so careful, when the heat in his eyes and his unsteady breathing told her he’d probably die from arousal if she said no. But it touched her that he’d asked instead of assumed.
“If we go to the penthouse,” she began slowly, “what exactly will we do?”
A sensual twinkle filled his eyes. His voice lowered to a husky pitch as he said, “Well, I noticed there’s a removable showerhead in the master bathroom.”
She burst out laughing. “Do you make it a habit of scoping out the shower when you use other people’s bathrooms?”
“Who doesn’t?”
9
A FEW DAYS LATER Hayden was standing outside the lavish ten-bedroom home her father had bought for Sheila. It was only a few blocks from the Gallagher Club, in the heart of one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Chicago.
Hayden had finally decided to talk to Sheila to learn more about her father’s drinking problem. Although a part of her still didn’t fully trust her stepmother, she knew this conversation was long overdue. If she had more information, maybe she could find a way to help her dad. And if his recent behavior was any indication, her father definitely needed some help.
Sheila answered the door wearing sweats, her expression clearly conveying her surprise at seeing her soon-to-be-ex-stepdaughter standing on the pillared doorstep.
“Hayden…what are you doing here?”
She fumbled awkwardly with the strap of her leather purse. “I think we should talk.”
With a nod, Sheila opened the door wider so Hayden could step inside. The enormous front parlor, with its sparkling crystal chandelier, was as intimidating as it had been the first time she’d seen it. The white walls were devoid of artwork, a sight that made her frown. She’d encouraged her father to pick up pieces at auctions she had recommended, but it looked as if he hadn’t bothered.
“So what’s on your mind?” Sheila asked after they’d entered the living room.
Hayden sat on one of the fluffy teal love seats, waited for Sheila to sink down on the matching sofa, then cleared her throat. “I want you to tell me about my father’s drinking.”
Her stepmother raked one delicate hand through her blond hair, then clasped her hands together in her lap. �
��What do you want to know, Hayden?”
“When did he start?”
“Last year, about the same time the pharmaceutical company he’d invested in went bankrupt. He lost a lot of money, tried to recoup it by making more investments, and lost that, too.”
Hayden fought back a wave of guilt, realizing that she’d had no idea any of this had been going on. Her father had always sounded so jovial on the phone, as if he had no cares in the world.
Was she a terrible daughter for not seeing through the lies?
“He didn’t want to worry you,” Sheila added as if reading her mind.
“So that’s when he started drinking?”
Her stepmother nodded. “At first it was just a drink or two in the evenings, but the worse the situation got, the more he drank. I tried talking to him about it. I told him the drinking was becoming a problem, but he refused to hear it. That’s when…” Sheila’s voice drifted.
“That’s when what?”
“He went to bed with another woman.”
A silence fell between them, but this time Hayden didn’t try to defend her father. That day at the law office, she’d believed Sheila to be a heartless lying bitch, accusing Pres of adultery, but after his blowup at the Gallagher Club, Hayden couldn’t deny her dad had a problem. And if that problem had driven him to cheat, she needed to accept it. No point sticking her head in the sand and pretending things were okay, when they obviously weren’t.
So she leaned back and allowed Sheila to continue.
“He told me what he’d done the next morning, blamed me for his infidelity, said my constant nagging forced him to do it.” Sheila made an exasperated sound. “And he kept denying he had a drinking problem. I might have been able to forgive him for the affair, but I couldn’t look away while he destroyed the life we’d built.”
“What happened?”
“I confronted him again, ordered him to get help for his alcohol problem.”
“I take it he didn’t agree.”
“Oh, no.” Sheila’s pretty features twisted in distress and anger. “He only got worse. A couple nights later, I came home from the gym and found him in the study, drunk out of his mind. That’s when he confessed about the games he’d fixed.”
A rush of protectiveness rose inside her. “It could have been the alcohol talking. Maybe he didn’t know what he was saying.”
“He knew.” Her stepmother offered a knowing look. “And what he said was confirmed to me by a player on the team.”
“The one you’re sleeping with?” Hayden couldn’t help cracking.
Two red circles splotched Sheila’s cheeks. “Don’t judge me, Hayden. I may have turned to another man, but only after your father betrayed me. Pres pushed me away long before I did what I did.”
Her mouth closed. Sheila was right. Who the hell was she to judge? What happened within a marriage wasn’t anybody’s business but the people who were married, and she couldn’t make assumptions or draw conclusions about a situation she hadn’t been a part of.
And if she were to draw conclusions, it startled her to realize she actually believed Sheila. She might not approve of Sheila’s contesting of the prenup or love for all things luxurious, but Hayden couldn’t bring herself to brush off what her stepmother had told her.
If her father had really bribed players, what would happen to him if—when?—the investigation revealed the truth? Would he get off with a fine, or would she be visiting him in prison this time next year? Fear trickled through her, settling in her stomach and making her nauseous.
With a sympathetic look and a soft sigh, Sheila said, “Things aren’t always as they seem. People aren’t always as they seem.” She averted her eyes, but not before Hayden saw the tears coating her lashes. “Do you want to know why I married your father, Hayden?”
For his money?
She quickly swallowed back the nasty remark, but Sheila must have seen it in her eyes because she said, “The money was part of it. I know, you probably won’t understand, but I didn’t have a lot of financial security growing up. My parents were dirt-poor. My father ran off with what little money we did have, and I was working by the time I was thirteen.” She shrugged. “Maybe I was selfish for wanting a man who could take care of me, for wanting some security.”
Sheila paused, shaking her head as if reprimanding herself. “But the money wasn’t the only reason. If it was, I would have married one of the many rich jerks who showed up at the bar I waitressed at, pinching my ass and trying to get me into bed. But I didn’t marry one of those guys. I married your dad.”
“Why?” Hayden asked quietly, strangely fascinated by her stepmother’s story.
“Because he was one of the good guys. I wasted so much time on the bad boys, the guys who light your body on fire but end up burning you out in the end. I was sick of it, so I decided to find myself a Mr. Nice—a decent, stable man who might not be the most exciting man in the world but who’d always be there for me, always put me first, financially and emotionally.”
A wave of discomfort crested in Hayden’s stomach, slowly rising inside her until it lodged in her throat like a wad of old chewing gum. She’d never thought she’d have anything in common with this woman, but everything Sheila had just said mirrored the thoughts Hayden had been having for years now. Wasn’t that why she’d chosen Doug—because he was nice, decent and stable? Because he’d always put her first?
“But nice men aren’t necessarily the right men,” Sheila finished softly. “Nice men make mistakes, too. They can take you for granted and they can play with your emotions, just like those bad boys I wanted so badly to get away from.”
She swiped at the tears staining her cheeks and lifted her chin. “Your father hurt me, Hayden. If he’d truly loved me, he would’ve seen that I was only trying to help him, that I wanted to be there for him the way I thought he’d be there for me. But he wasn’t there for me. I feel awful about not being able to get him help for the drinking, I really do, but I couldn’t take the way he was treating me. He went to another woman, he lied about his criminal actions, and now he’s making me out to be a selfish gold digger.”
With a bitter smile, Sheila leaned forward and stared at her with sad blue eyes. “How’s that for Mr. Nice?”
* * *
HAYDEN LEFT with no real idea how to help her dad with his drinking problem, even more concerned about his possible criminal activities. She was just as confused and upset as she’d been when she’d rung the doorbell. Her cell phone rang the second she got into her car, and just when she thought this day from hell couldn’t get any worse, it did. The number flashing on the phone’s screen belonged to Doug.
Oh, God, she couldn’t deal with this right now. But she couldn’t keep avoiding her issues any longer, either. Today she’d finally opened her eyes to the downward spiral of her father’s life, started to accept that her father might have become an alcoholic, adulterer and criminal.
Maybe it was time to face the other man in her life. She’d called Doug back last week, but she’d phoned in the afternoon knowing he would be in a seminar for one of the summer courses he was teaching. Maybe it made her a chicken but she hadn’t been ready to talk to him yet, opting instead to leave a brief message on his machine.
She hadn’t mentioned Brody in the message, either, mostly because the thought of telling Doug about Brody—on his answering machine no less—had made her palms grow damp. It would’ve been one thing if the situation with Brody hadn’t gone beyond that first night, but it had. It’d been over a week since she’d approached him in the bar, and somehow, during that time, her casual fling had…changed.
She couldn’t pinpoint when the change had occurred. All she knew was that since they’d gone skating after the Gallagher Club party, she and Brody had been having fun not only in the bedroom, but out of it. They’d gone back to the Lakeshore Lounge for dinner, gone skating at Millennium Park. Brody had even taken her to the Art Institute of Chicago, where he’d spent the entire day fo
llowing her from painting to painting and listening to her rave about each one.
What wasn’t fun, however, was having him fly to another city every other day. He’d had three away games this past week and each time he’d left to catch his flight she’d had to bite her tongue. Had to remind herself that no matter how much she was enjoying being with Brody, this was still a fling. And flings always came to an end at some point.
Her phone continued to chime, the ring tone speeding up to signal that voice mail would kick in soon.
Hayden took a deep breath.
She had to pick up. Doug had already left her three messages since she’d called him back, his voice growing more and more concerned with each call. He probably thought she was lying dead in a ditch somewhere, and she was disgusted with herself for her inability to deal with this Doug dilemma.
No more stalling. She’d already endured one unwanted confrontation today. Might as well make it two for two.
She hit the talk button on her cell phone.
“Thank God,” Doug said when she answered. “I was beginning to think something terrible had happened to you.”
His obvious relief caused guilt to buzz around in her belly like a swarm of angry wasps. She felt like total slime for making him worry like this.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” she replied, her fingers trembling against the phone. “Didn’t you get my message?”
“I got it, but I’ve called you a few times since, Hayden.”
“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls. Things have been hectic.”
“I can imagine.” He paused. “Some of the papers here are running stories about your father, honey.”
“Yeah, it’s happening here, too. I’m starting to get worried,” she admitted.
Confiding in him came as naturally as brushing her teeth in the morning. She’d always been able to talk to Doug about everything. Whether it was problems at the university or something as minor as a bad haircut, he was always there to listen. It was one of the things she liked about him.
Liked.
The word hung in her mind, making her tap one hand against the steering wheel. She liked everything about this man. His patience, his tenderness, his generosity. And she was certain that once he finally decided the time was right for them to get physical, she’d like that, too. And that was the problem. She wasn’t sure she could spend the rest of her life with a man she simply liked. Sure, sometimes love took time to develop, feelings could grow, friends could realize they were soul mates…at least that’s what she’d always believed.
