Playing the Playboy

by Noelle Adams

  “I don’t know. Feeling trapped, I guess. Feeling like I might never be free.” He glanced away, looking suddenly self-conscious, as if he’d said more than he’d intended. When he met her eyes again, he was his usual charming self. “Anyway, it’s just the beginning of the ride that feels like you’re out of control. Once you’re up there, it will feel a lot more stable.”

  Laurel was still shaky as she thought about the ascent, but she forced herself to smile again. “Good.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to do this at all, you know.” He reached out and cupped her cheek briefly in a supportive gesture that felt natural, instinctive, just part of who he was.

  She leaned into his warm hand briefly until she realized what she was doing. “I know. But I want to. I don’t like to let silly fears defeat me.”

  “That I can understand.”

  There was no more time for real conversation. It was time to ascend, and all Laurel could think about was the wind in her face and the rising adrenaline and the miles of sea, sky, and cliffs surrounding her.

  They were going up together, both harnessed into the same apparatus, so Andrew kept talking to her as she tried to catch her breath. He kept making dry comments until she laughed.

  Parasailing was an essential part of her Plan and always had been.

  She certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy it.

  ***

  Two hours later, she was sitting at a bar next to Andrew, having a beer and trying to get control of the thrilling high lingering from parasailing so she could concentrate again on her Plan.

  Andrew was telling her about a paragliding trip he’d made in the Rockies. He’d evidently done every extreme sport known to man. She’d found out as much in the research she’d done on him, and she’d cynically assumed it was a futile effort to feel like his empty life was worth something.

  He seemed different, now that she met him. His affinity for wild sports wasn’t really an exercise of emptiness—more an outlet for a vibrant personality that pushed against any restraints, that never wanted to be tied down.

  She kept reminding herself he was the world’s biggest player, leaving broken female hearts across two continents. He wouldn’t have been so successful with women if he didn’t come across as incredibly appealing.

  She could easily see how so many women fell for him, even with his dubious reputation.

  He was warm, laughing, uninhibited. He seemed to really listen to her, see her.

  “So I said,” Andrew went on, obviously coming to the punchline of his story, “that I didn’t mean to land in his pool. It was merely an unfortunate miscalculation in navigation.”

  Laurel couldn’t seem to stop laughing as she imagined the scenario in vivid detail—his paragliding his way into someone’s pool and trying to explain to the owner and his two Rottweilers.

  “Unfortunately, he didn’t appreciate the apology,” he concluded, his mouth tilting up in adorably repressed amusement.

  “What did he do?”

  “He came after me with his cane. I had to flee, soaking wet and dragging my equipment behind me. At least he didn’t sic the dogs on me.”

  Laurel choked on her beer, overcome with hilarity. She laughed until tears streamed out of her eyes.

  Andrew was laughing too, although more subdued than she was. When she could finally focus on his face, she noticed hot admiration in those vivid green eyes.

  She was suddenly terrified.

  This was Andrew Damon. Damon. He and his family were trying to take away everything that belonged to her. She’d worked for years to keep her inn afloat, since Jerry had been in a downward financial spiral since shortly after their marriage, and the Damons were now threatening all she’d poured into it.

  And here she was laughing hysterically and enjoying his warm admiration, as if he’d been any other attractive man.

  She’d been crazy to think she could do this. She wasn’t any good at pretending. She’d never even been good at flirting. When she’d been hired as a waitress in that strip joint in West Virginia, she’d worn a very skimpy outfit and the manager kept telling her to flirt more with the customers She’d tried, since she’d always been eminently practical and she knew she’d make more money that way, but she just didn’t know how to flirt the way other women did. She knew how to work, and that was pretty much it.

  But there was no way to work her way out of this situation. The Damons were going to take her inn. The only way she could save it was having sex with a stranger.

  She couldn’t do it. While practically, it was the best plan—the only plan—she just didn’t have it in herself to do as she’d planned. Reacting instinctively to a sudden surge of terror, she jumped off the bar stool and fumbled in her purse for an appropriate sized bill.

  “I’ve got it,” Andrew began, when he saw she was trying to pay for the beer. “What’s wrong?”

  His humor had vanished, and he looked confused and concerned.

  “Nothing.” She rubbed her face in an attempt to pull herself together. “I’ve got to go. I really enjoyed this afternoon. Thank you.”

  “But at least tell me your na—”

  She didn’t wait for him to finish. She just fled the bar and hurried down the walk to where her car was parked.

  Andrew followed her. “What’s going on?” he demanded, catching up to her in the dark alley behind the building.

  Exactly where she’d needed to get him for her Plan to work out. She took a deep breath, wondering if her panic might be just a passing thing and she could go through with it after all.

  The were positioned exactly right. The high-end shop that catered to tourists on the other side of the alley had a conveniently positioned security camera. She’d always arranged to get the footage from an easily persuaded manager.

  Andrew didn’t touch her, but his presence seemed to trap her in place.

  “Nothing. I’m sorry.” She stared down at her hands, trying to find the courage and will she needed.

  Sex didn’t have to be a big deal.

  He was obviously trying to put clues together in his mind. “Are you married?”

  “No! Of course, I’m not married.” She lifted her eyes to meet his in her surprise.

  His expression changed, softened into something hot and almost tender. He stepped forward. “Then why are you running away from me?”

  She was still trembling, but for a different reason now. She was mesmerized by his expression. Couldn’t possibly look away. “I’m…I’m not.”

  He almost smiled. “Liar.”

  He raised his hand and cupped her face, and there was no way she could pull away. Every part of her was responding to his expression.

  Before she knew what was happening, she was leaning toward him, and then he was tilting his head down for a kiss.

  It wasn’t like any kiss she’d had before, and it wasn’t just because he was so good at it—although he definitely knew what he was doing.

  His lips were skillful but eager, and she couldn’t help but ease her lips apart when she felt him nudging with his tongue.

  Every nerve in her body was firing off in excitement. Her head spun and her body pulsed as she tried to process what was happening.

  She lifted her hands to clutch at his t-shirt, and he wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her more snugly against him.

  She gasped for breath when their mouths finally parted and then gasped again when he kept kissing her, nibbling little lines across her jaw and down her throat.

  “Oh God.” She let her head fall back as shivers of pleasure ran down her spine and a pressure began to build between her legs.

  “Now will you tell me your name?” he murmured, his voice deliciously textured.

  She shook with laughter, fisting her hands in his hair, holding on however she could.

  “Damn, you’re gorgeous.” He slid a hand down to her bottom and then even lower to her thigh, lifting it up slightly until she wrapped one leg around him and shamelessly rubbed hersel
f against his hip.

  She could feel his body tightening quickly. He was obviously as aroused as she was.

  “Where are you staying?” he asked at last. He’d broken the deep kiss but leaned his forehead against hers, occasionally pressing a little kiss against the side of her mouth.

  His body was coiled tightly, and she could feel his arousal pressing against her middle in a way that made her shiver in anticipation.

  She hadn’t had sex in a long time.

  She hadn’t had sex since her husband died.

  This man was a Damon, and he would strip her of everything she had if she let him.

  And she was about to fuck him—not just because it was strategic but because she genuinely wanted to.

  She actually wanted him.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t stand to be close to him. She planted her hands on his chest and pushed him away.

  She hadn’t been rough, but Andrew took an awkward step back. His face was damp with perspiration, and he was obviously pretty far gone.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, rubbing her face to try to get her mind to work again. “I don’t do this. I can’t do this.”

  “Wait,” Andrew said, grabbing her arm as she started to walk away. “At least—”

  She shook off his grip. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  She hurried away, and this time he didn’t follow.

  She just needed to get away from him.

  The security footage would have caught their kiss, but that wouldn’t be enough to threaten the Damons with exposure, as she’d originally planed.

  Andrew would show up at her inn tomorrow. He would be awkward and surprised and rattled, but it wouldn’t be enough.

  She was desperate. She was about to lose everything. But she wasn’t as strong as she’d thought.

  Laurel cried a little as she drove back to her little inn in Oia, back to Hector and Agatha, the elderly couple who served as her live-in domestic staff, and back to her three German Shepherds.

  She had no idea what had happened today, but one thing she knew for sure.

  Her Master Plan was never going to work.

  Chapter Two

  Andrew arrived at the inn, which was just on the edge of the quaint city of Oia, two hours before his scheduled appointment time the following morning.

  Maybe it was a hollow gesture, since he’d completely blown off yesterday, but arriving two hours early was at least an attempt to follow typical Damon strategy.

  Besides, it was better than lying in bed and thinking about the beautiful, mysterious woman who had run out on him the day before—something that was bothering him more than it should.

  After parking the car he’d rented the day before, he walked down a set of very steep steps, which were built into the cliff wall and led down to the level of the main building.

  The stairs were a hazard and were clearly not handicapped accessible. The first thing that needed to be done when they took possession of this property was rebuild the stairs so they were safe and accessible.

  The front patio area was pleasant, with a couple of café tables, potted ferns, and colorful flowers, but it was also very small.

  Andrew brainstormed on possibilities as he walked—not into the lobby at the main entrance—but around the building and down some more stairs to the second building.

  Like most properties on Santorini, the inn was built into the cliff face and so it was divided into several levels and a number of small, white-washed buildings, connected by stone steps and walkways.

  He looked around. The location was ideal and the inn was charming, but he found a number of major improvements that would need to be done to bring the property up to Damon standards. There was also the problem of the adjoining property, which was evidently a small, low-rent hotel that catered to college students. Even at this time of day, the pool next door was rowdy. The wall between the properties really needed to be built up to muffle the noise.

  He finally walked up the steps leading to the level that was farthest from the main building. He opened a turquoise-colored gate into a scrubby yard that didn’t have the furnishings of the other terraces. He looked around, wondering why this part of the inn had been ignored, since it was big enough for a large outdoor sitting area—maybe even another pool.

  The cliffside gave way to a small cave, and he walked toward it in interest. Many of the houses and buildings on the island were built out from caves in the cliff. If that cave could be built out, it would add substantial square footage to the property.

  He peered into the cave and was about to step in when a ferocious snarl startled him.

  He stepped back instinctively and then kept stepping back when a very large German Shepherd advanced on him, growling threateningly under its breath.

  “Let’s not be melodramatic,” Andrew said, keeping his voice calm. “I didn’t mean to invade your home. I didn’t even know you were there.”

  Before he’d finished speaking, however, two more German Shepherds emerged from the cave, stalking just behind the first.

  “Perfect,” he muttered, his heartbeat accelerating as he moved into crisis-mode. “Just perfect.” He’d never live it down if he got mauled by dogs during a hotel inspection.

  What the hell was this Grayson woman thinking, letting animals like this loose in a commercial property.

  Deciding it was worth a try, he said in his most authoritative voice. “Sit.”

  All three dogs stopped snarling and sat.

  Andrew blinked in surprise.

  Deciding not to press his luck, he took a step backwards in order to leave the yard enclosure, but his foot landed in a hole one of the dogs must have dug. His ankle turned, and he ended up on the ground in an embarrassing sprawl.

  Fortunately, the dogs were the only ones to witness it. They came over immediately and stuck their noses in his face to see if he was all right.

  “What’s going on?” a female voice demanded from behind him. “Theo, Circe, Persephone. Come.”

  The extravagantly-named dogs all trotted happily over to the owner of the voice as Andrew heaved himself up and brushed futilely at the mud on his trousers, wishing he hadn’t been in such an undignified position to confront Laurel Grayson.

  The woman had married a much older man eight years ago, no doubt for his money. She hadn’t chosen wisely, though, since Jerry Grayson had made a number of bad investments and had filed for bankruptcy before he’d had the heart attack that killed him. The inn was in his wife’s name, which had protected it from his creditors, but his widow was clearly naïve and selfish, since she’d ignored all of their attempts to communicate with her about their claim to the inn until they’d been forced to file an injunction to keep her from opening the property to guests until the legal ownership could be determined.

  He had a certain picture in his mind of what Grayson’s widow would look like.

  Never in his wildest dreams would he have expected to find the irresistible stranger from the day before.

  She wore shorts and a tank-top, as she had yesterday, but her hair was now braided into two long braids, there was dirt on her legs and hands, and she carried a basket of vegetables.

  Andrew had absolutely no idea what she was doing here.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, clearly as stunned as he was as she processed his presence.

  His first response was irrational. He was suddenly afraid she would think he was some creepy stalker. “I didn’t follow you or anything. I didn’t even know you were here. I have an appointment with Laurel Grayson.”

  She frowned. “What were you doing to my dogs?”

  “I wasn’t doing anything to them.” Then it finally registered in his brain. “Your dogs. So you’re…”

  “Laurel Grayson. And you’re—”

  “Andrew Damon,” he admitted. “I guess we have an appointment.”

  She recovered from the surprise more quickly than he did. “Why are you here so early? I wasn’t expecting you for a couple
of hours.”

  “Yeah. I came early to look around. You should really do something with this yard, though. It’s a hazard with all these holes. And the dogs might be a problem to some guests. Even if they’re well-trained, they look rather intimidating.”

  “I never asked you for advice on what to do with my dogs or my yard.” Her voice was cold and clipped, nothing at all as it had been the day before.

  She’d been such a fascinating contradiction yesterday—competent yet vulnerable, friendly yet strangely distant. She was obviously gorgeous, but there was something else about her he was drawn to in a way he hadn’t been with a woman for a really long time.

  He wiped his hands on his pants, smearing more dirt on them. How Harrison would laugh if he could see him now, making a complete mess of what should have been a fairly straightforward job.

  Even knowing who she was, Andrew was still attracted to Laurel. The slightly girlish braids and the mud on her bare skin did nothing to change how sexy she was. He suddenly wanted her so much his body reacted.

  He remembered how it had felt to kiss her the day before, how passionately she had responded.

  She seemed to make an effort to compose a polite smile. “Sorry if the dogs knocked you down.”

  “They didn’t knock me down. I stepped in a hole.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She stared down at the basket she still held.

  “Were you picking vegetables?” Andrew asked, rather stupidly. It seemed so strange to see her with the basket of produce.

  “Yeah. I have a little garden.” She nodded in the direction she’d come in. “I need to get cleaned up some. And so do you. Then maybe we can talk.”

  That sounded like a reasonable plan, so Andrew followed her, but he was very uncomfortable with the events of the morning.

  He was used to easing his way through life, charming his way out of any awkward situation.

  But this was as awkward a situation as he could think of, and he could still feel his body respond as he walked up the steps behind Laurel, watching the long graceful line of her legs and the smooth curve of her ass.