Turning, I let him see all of me. “Is this too much?” I frown. “Or too little?”
I watch Chase swallow hard before his eyes lift to meet mine. “It’s…uh…Where the hell did you get that dress?”
Instantly I’m looking in the mirror once more. “Damn it. I knew I needed to change.”
Before I can move, Chase is behind me, his hands on my shoulders. “No. You shouldn’t.”
His eyes peruse me in the mirror and I hold my breath.
“You look fucking fantastic.”
“Really?”
He nods and I notice his eyes have zeroed in on my breasts.
The simple black dress is just that. Simple. As in there isn’t much to it. The crisscross halter has a cut out that runs from beneath my breasts to my navel and there is no back. The super-short skirt is flirty, not skintight. I loved it the instant I saw it online, but now that I have it on, I’m wondering what I was thinking.
“So I shouldn’t change?”
“No,” Chase declares a little roughly.
Looking back at his face, I see he’s still watching me intently, not meeting my eyes. For whatever reason, the look on his face sends a strange tremor to my belly. Butterflies erupt and I have no idea where they even came from. Chase has never inspired butterflies in me, but for whatever reason, I like the way he’s looking at me.
Not that I should.
“Okay then.” I take a step forward, then bend my knee and lift my right foot to adjust the strap on my sandal. “I’m ready when you are.”
Chase leads the way out of the bathroom and I find myself admiring him from behind. The guy has legs like tree trunks, abs that I’ve seen grown women literally drool over, and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. But if I’m being honest, it’s his back that has me riveted. The way that black dress shirt sits on his shoulders and moves with every shift of his body, accentuating the strong muscular lines…
I shake off the thought. I am not supposed to be admiring Chase. Doesn’t matter what body part it is. They are all off-limits. And I’d do well to remember that.
Half an hour later, Chase and I finally meet up with Natalie. She’s in the bar like I suspected, deep in conversation with Mark, laughing and smiling at everything he says. Mark seems to be just as taken with her, which is cute, if you want to know the truth. I had my doubts about these two, but the guy flew to Vegas to be with Natalie. I have to think he’s in it for more than just sex.
While I wait for her to acknowledge me, not wanting to interrupt their conversation, Chase goes to the bar for drinks. Although I was hesitant about drinking earlier, given the fact that I’m going to be onstage tomorrow in an auditorium full of people who are hanging on my every word, giving a speech that will be broadcast globally, I think I need something to calm my nerves. I’ve never done that sort of thing before, but I know it’s the best way to advance and since that’s my main objective, I know it has to be done. Doesn’t mean it’ll be easy though.
Chase returns a couple of minutes later and offers me a drink.
“Cosmopolitan, huh?” I smile at him. The guy knows me so well.
“Figured it’d be safe for you tonight.”
If I stick to only one, maybe. “No shots of Patrón, then?”
Chase grumbles and I can tell he’s still feeling the effects of last night. Not that you would know that by looking at him.
We find a small couch in the corner of the bar and sit. Something feels off between Chase and me tonight but I can’t put my finger on it. Perhaps it’s the fact that neither of us seems to be able to remember last night, or maybe it was what transpired between us in my bathroom a short time ago. I don’t think I imagined the heated glimmer in his eyes. And I definitely didn’t imagine myself checking him out.
I want to blame it on the atmosphere. This is Vegas and everyone knows, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Or so the saying goes anyway. It doesn’t help that I haven’t had sex in…far too long to even admit. And Chase is hot, plus he’s my friend.
Wait.
No.
This is not the train of thought I should be having. It will result in a fiery crash—as Chase likes to say—that will have severe repercussions.
With a sip of my drink, I tear my thoughts away from Chase and survey the other people in the bar. I see several familiar faces. Since the convention is being held here in the hotel, it only makes sense that a lot of my co-workers are staying here.
“Excuse me.”
I look up to see an older man approaching, his eyes intently focused on Chase. I grin to myself. Looks as though he’s not going to get by without being recognized tonight.
Chase lifts an eyebrow, waiting for the man to say something.
“I was wondering if…” He quickly looks my way. “If the two of you are together?”
Well. That certainly wasn’t what I was expecting.
“We are, actually,” Chase answers, his response automatic.
Nor was I expecting that.
Jerking my head toward Chase, I frown. He moves closer, a slow grin forming on his mouth. “Right, sweetheart?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. For one, I don’t know what’s gotten into this man. Well, maybe I do. That’s the way Chase is. He’s all about shaking things up. He likes to mess with me, and standing between me and some guy who might want to buy me a drink is one way for him to do that. On the other hand, that seems quite at odds with his behavior last night. I distinctly remember him trying to pawn me off on some innocent guy at the bar.
“I’m sorry, then.” The man turns and heads to another table where a group of women are talking.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Protecting you from the old guys.”
I laugh. “I seriously doubt he was old.” Maybe early forties. I don’t consider that old.
“Too old for you,” Chase states.
“Says who?”
Chase chuckles. “Would you like me to go get him?”
“No.” Okay, so I said that a little too quickly. Although I’m not interested in the man, that doesn’t mean it’s all right for Chase to interfere with my potential love life.
“Oh, look at the lovebirds,” Natalie croons as she approaches. “I knew the two of you would come to your senses one of these days. Is that what y’all did last night?” She takes a seat in the chair across from me and Mark perches on the arm. “And you don’t want anyone to know you’re shagging one another?”
“Whoa,” Mark adds with a whistle. “Dude.”
I nearly spit my drink out. “Of course not.” I turn to look at Chase. “Tell them that’s not what happened.”
While I wait for him to reassure Natalie and Mark, I think about this morning. I woke up in my bed alone. I was fully dressed. In pajamas. Hmm. I don’t remember when I changed, but the fact that I had clothes on is a positive sign that Chase and I didn’t…
My eyes widen.
God, I hope we didn’t.
Chapter 15
I will admit, Chase Barrett seems to be an open book. When I asked him if there were any questions he didn’t want to answer, he kindly shook his head and told me he would answer anything to the best of his ability. And because I know the devil is in the details, I asked him point-blank who he was closest to in the world. He told me it was a toss-up between his fathers and his best friend, Cassie Desrosiers. I, of course, wanted to dig deeper, so I asked him to define his relationship with Cassie. “I’d do anything for her. It’s that simple.” Yet the man claims to have never been in love. They are just friends, he assures me.
I have to wonder if perhaps he doesn’t know what it really means to be in love. Yet.
—Excerpt from Sports Unlimited’s Bad Boys of Sports edition
Chase
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
As I sit here staring at Natalie, the events of last night come slamming back to me in a rush of vivid mental images and sounds.
> “Did you get the marriage license?”
“We did.”
I stare at Cassie, completely confused as to what the fuck she’s doing. I’ve gone along with it so far because she’s smiling so brightly, I don’t want to dim it in the slightest. To hear her laugh does something strange to me. I’m still not sure why I’m even entertaining this knowing she’ll hate me tomorrow, but for whatever reason, I want to keep her happy, to make her smile like that. It’s absurd, sure.
But married?
No way could this possibly be a good idea. No fucking way.
I watch from what feels like outside my body as the gray-haired lady with the crooked glasses takes the paperwork from Cassie and gives it a good once-over. I mean, come on, we made the effort to go get the marriage license anyway. Who does that for a joke?
“You’re all set. Did you want to see our wedding package options?”
“Of course we do,” Cassie states, as though it’s clearly obvious that we’re looking to get married. “Right, honey?”
Honey?
Oh, hell.
What made me think that tequila shots were okay for this woman?
I realize both women are looking at me expectantly. I don’t want to look like an ass, so I force a smile although my head is spinning and I’m not entirely sure it’s the tequila. “Absolutely.”
The woman looks as though we just made her day. I have to think that she has likely seen a half-dozen other couples come through here recently. That’s what people do in Vegas, right? They run out here to get married when they want something simple or spontaneous? Or both?
“Well, then, you come with me,” she says to Cassie, then turns her attention to me. “And you’ll go right in this dressing room here. There are plenty of tuxedos for you to choose from.” She scrutinizes me momentarily, looking me up and down. “However, it might be tricky to find one for your height.”
I don’t intend to wear a tux, so I shrug it off. What I’ve got on will work just fine.
Wait.
Am I seriously considering this?
Married?
I realize I’m breathing hard, like I just did sprints. I try to rein myself in.
Did that really happen? Surely not.
I stare at Cassie, trying to determine if what happened was real or a dream. It had to be a dream. Cassie and I didn’t get married last night in Las Vegas. We’re both smart people. Why the hell would we do that?
“You okay?”
I turn my attention to Natalie, who’s watching me intently. I nod, although it’s a lie. I’m not okay. And if Cassie and I got married last night, then neither of us is okay. It’s clear—if it did in fact take place—that she doesn’t remember. If she did, she’d be going berserk right about now. Hell, she’d probably banish me from her life for interfering in her five-year plan.
“You look a little pale,” Cassie whispers, placing her hand on my arm.
I hate that I like her touching me. Hate it, hate it, hate it.
Because I never want it to stop.
Son of a bitch.
I force myself out of my stupor and glance down at her glass. It’s empty.
“Another drink?” I offer, but don’t wait for her to respond. I get to my feet and head to the bar.
“You want company, man?” Mark asks as I move past him.
“Nah. I’m good.” I need a minute. Several, in fact.
“What can I get you?” The bartender greets me with a smile.
“A do-over,” I tell him honestly.
The man grins. “Vegas is the best place to be for that.”
Yeah. Okay. “I’ll take another Cosmopolitan and—”
“Four shots of tequila. Patrón Silver,” comes the order from a female voice.
My head snaps over to see Natalie standing at my side. She’s peering up at me thoughtfully.
The bartender seems to be waiting for my response, so I nod my head.
Why the fuck not? Might as well eliminate tonight from my memory, too.
“Something’s wrong,” Natalie insists. “And I want to know what it is.”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“You suck at lying, Sin.”
I chuckle, although it’s lacking the amusement it should have. Natalie only calls me Sin when she wants to fuck with me. Otherwise, she calls me Chase or smartass or…once I think she called me a potential sperm donor. The girl’s fucking crazy, that’s all I know.
Not wanting to answer, I glance over at Cassie.
“Son of a bitch.”
Lo and behold, there Cassie sits with the Jaguar douchebag, and Mark is nowhere to be found. The guy seriously couldn’t keep an eye on her for two minutes?
“Oh, crap,” Natalie mumbles under her breath.
Drumming my fingers on the bar, I mentally urge the bartender to hurry the hell up.
“Go,” Natalie insists. “I’ll wait for the drinks.”
I look down at her.
She quirks an eyebrow. The look that says: You’re dumb as dirt if you don’t move your ass.
Luckily, the bartender chooses that moment to pass over the Cosmo. I grab the glass and head toward Cassie. When she sees me, I notice a flash of panic in her eyes. And I know she’s not panicking because of me.
At least I hope she’s not.
“Hey,” I say, coming to stand beside Cassie, on the other side from where King Douche has taken a seat.
I pass over her drink and she smiles.
I instantly remember the night I interrupted her booty call with this jackass. My words come back to me and I have to wonder if this isn’t karma at work. I mean, seriously. I was the one who used the term husband at the time.
Figuring I’d better not ruin this night before it even gets started, I hold out my hand in introduction. “Chase Barrett.”
Mr. Jaguar returns the gesture. “Andrew Garrison.”
Great. And now the pleasantries are officially out of the way. I’m still going to call him King Douche. It suits him better.
I glance at Cassie, who is no longer sipping her drink. She’s downing it in one gulp. Her eyes lift to mine and I can see the discomfort mixed with a genuine amount of panic.
“Well, we were just about to head out,” I tell King Douche as I reach down to take Cassie’s hand, helping her to her feet.
I casually put my arm around her, pulling her into my side and holding her there as I stare back at the douchebag, who seems to be waiting for Cassie to say something. When Cassie grips my shirt and tugs slightly, I know she’s ready to go. So, in an effort to make it clear that she and I are here together, I glance down at her and smile.
Then, I do the one thing I never, ever, ever should have done.
I kiss her.
Cassie
Chase Barrett is kissing me.
Like, full-on-the-mouth kissing.
Oh.
My.
God.
My brain is trying to fight him off, but my hands are playing ignorant, fisting into his shirt and pulling him closer, the warmth of his body permeating every single inch of me. I’m a little lightheaded and I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol—which I haven’t had much of, really—or the way his hand is cupping the back of my neck so perfectly, his thumb brushing my jaw, his lips moving over mine in a way that has every nerve ending in my body shouting Hurrah!
Best friend.
Best friend.
Best! Friend!
What the hell am I doing?
Somehow, I manage to extricate myself from his hold. Well, to be honest, I think I’m the one holding him, but for a second, I need to pretend it’s the other way around because holy crap. My best friend kissed me.
And I liked it.
A lot.
“Uh…Do you guys need a minute?”
That’s Marky Mark talking. I know it is, but I can’t seem to focus on anything except for the way Chase is staring down at me. We’re both stunned beyond words, that’s obvious.
“Yeah.” Chase’s voice is nothing more than a raspy whisper. “A minute would be good.”
He doesn’t look away and I can’t seem to either. He’s still cupping my face, his head close to mine. I can feel his breath fanning my mouth.
“What was that?” I ask, my throat tight for whatever reason.
“I don’t know.”
I can see the confusion in his eyes. It’s clear he feels as off-kilter as I do. Why that makes me feel better, I’m not sure, but it does.
“I should move away from you,” he states softly, “but I can’t.”
I shake my head, but I’m not sure what message I’m trying to relay. Do I want him to stay where he is? Do I want him to kiss me again? Do I want to go back to my room and hide under the covers until I can pretend this never happened?
Shit.
I have no idea what I want except for one thing: I want to feel Chase’s mouth on mine again because honest to God, I have never kissed anyone before and felt like that. Not once.
“Tell me what to do,” Chase says insistently, his eyes still locked with mine, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it.
I shrug because that’s all I’ve got. I have no idea what to do now.
“Then I’m going to kiss you again.”
And just like that, Chase’s mouth is on mine and this time it’s so damn sweet, my breath locks up in my chest. When his tongue moves against mine, I want to inhale him because I can’t think of anything but this. But him.
I have no idea how long this kiss lasts, but it’s not nearly long enough. When Chase pulls back this time, I force my eyes open again.
Suddenly the lights, the sounds, the people all come back to me and I realize where we are, what we’re doing. A lot of these people are my co-workers, some even my direct reports. The last thing I need is for someone to recognize me, to see me making out like a teenager in the middle of a Vegas bar.
Chase’s thumb brushes my jaw and I realize he’s still holding me, his hand beneath my hair, his strong fingers gently curled around the back of my neck. I like the feel of his hand there. It gives me a sense of security, something I haven’t felt in…ever.
Bad Reputation Page 13
