Game for Anything

by Bella Andre

  "My jeans are not getting the pleasure that I want for myself," he said as he stripped her skirt off.

  Her shoes were already gone and slowly, with a patience she wished he didn't have, he slid her stockings over her hips, past her aching clit, down her incredibly sensitive thighs, and finally over her knees and calves and the soles of her feet.

  A part of her wanted to yell, "Hurry," but before she could give in to the urge, Ty said, "I like your panties."

  Lingerie was her biggest splurge. Silk from France, lace from Italy. She hadn't bought it to turn on the men she slept with; she simply liked the feel of luxurious, sensual fabrics against her skin. It was her way of acknowledging the sexy woman within her.

  "I like you better naked, though," he said as he slid her panties off and dropped them onto the plush rug.

  All she wanted was for him to slip his finger inside her--that's all it would take. But he'd never followed the rules. Not in school, not on the field, and not now.

  His mouth came down hot and heavy on her pussy lips and her hips bucked up to meet him. Strong, calloused hands cupped her ass, pulled her closer. Julie's body instantly obeyed his command, and she pushed into his teeth, his tongue.

  And then his fingers found her, slipped and slid against her clit, against her engorged lips, and then finally, deep within.

  "Ty," she moaned, his name a prayer of wonder as the first waves knocked her down. No orgasm had ever been this intense, not even back in high school on the yacht.

  She tried to prepare herself for the next hit of pleasure, but she couldn't, she didn't have the resources against the constant onslaught of Ty's tongue, fingers, the way he pushed into her clit, then backed away, only to give her more and send her higher.

  Her brain ceased to function as he rode her harder and harder with his hands, higher and higher with his mouth.

  Then, miraculously, her brain pushed through the fog of sensation. Where had this girl come from, the one who would do anything for that orgasm? All these years, she'd been in hiding. Ever since the night when this bad boy broke her heart.

  In an instant, the spell of lust collapsed.

  With superhuman strength, she pushed him onto the far end of the couch. As she scrambled into her clothes--even though she knew his eyes never left her face, not for one second, even though she knew how hard he was behind the zipper of his jeans, even though they were both panting from what had just happened--she wouldn't let herself look at his face. Into his eyes.

  If she so much as glanced up into his beautiful eyes and all the desire in them, she'd leap onto his lap and ride him like she was going for a gold medal.

  "I can't do this anymore." She ran up the stairs, her shoes and briefcase in her hands. "You'll have to work with Amy. She'll call you with the new plan."

  She tried to turn the knob to get the hell away from him, but it was locked. With wild determination, she pounded at the keypad with her fists.

  "Open, goddamnit!" she yelled.

  Ty moved behind her to punch in the code, and when the door beeped open, she leaped through it and out to her car with a speed she hadn't known she possessed.

  She could never, ever see Ty again.

  Never.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ty was painfully hard. He wasn't surprised that Julie had fled before they could finish the deed. And really, he decided as he turned the shower on cold, he'd thoroughly enjoyed himself anyway. Because even though he hadn't had the pleasure of sliding into her hot, slick pussy, he'd gotten his rocks off in other ways.

  Just kissing her was lethal.

  And those breasts. A guy could lose himself in how soft her skin was, in the way her nipples tasted.

  And then there was the fact that she had the most beautiful pussy in all creation.

  The icy water temporarily worked its magic on his libido, so he wrapped a towel around his waist and thought about his next move.

  She didn't want to work with him anymore, but he wanted to be with her. What was the one thing absolutely guaranteed to bring Julie running to his side? And, if all went really well, keep her there?

  He grinned with sudden certainty. He knew exactly what he needed to do. Oh yes, he'd be seeing Julie again very soon.

  Julie walked into Amy's office, closed the blinds, and threw herself down on the overstuffed chair in the corner.

  Amy stopped typing. "Uh-oh. What's wrong?"

  "I just did a very bad thing."

  "How bad?"

  Julie bit her lip. She was the boss. She was supposed to set an example of professional behavior. And what had she done?

  "I slept with a client."

  Amy was out of her seat and sitting on the coffee table in front of Julie within seconds. "You didn't."

  Julie nodded, miserable and yet still energized and tingly from the amazing orgasm Ty had bestowed upon her just minutes ago.

  "Oh yes, I most certainly did." Amy's face was a picture of disbelief. "Who could you have possibly slept with? Honestly, I can't think of a single one of our clients without their clothes on." She paused. "Thank God."

  Her voice barely above a whisper, Julie admitted, We got a new client this morning. Remember?"

  "This morning? The only people who called today were from that football team. The Outlaws."

  Amy's eyes grew big with sudden comprehension. Julie didn't say anything, just waited for her friend to do some quick math over which Outlaw player was most likely to need an image consultant.

  "Ty Calhoun?" Amy's voice notched up a note. "No freakin' way. You couldn't have. You hate foot-ball. You hate sports stars. Even incredibly hot ones like him." She fanned herself. "Damn, that man is hot."

  Amy didn't know about Julie's past with Ty; no one did. She'd never wanted to admit even to her closest friend that she'd been so naive, so pathetically in love with someone who would never ever love her back. The time had come for confessing.

  "Promise you won't hate me for not telling you about this before. I'm not good at telling secrets. Especially ones that make me look stupid." She paused for a long moment. "The thing is, I used to know Ty Calhoun. A long time ago."

  "When? I've known you since college, met practically every guy you ever dated. And I definitely would have remembered if he'd taken you out."

  "We went to high school together."

  "Oh."

  Julie was amazed how many meanings one short word could have.

  "We didn't hang out. Not until the graduation party."

  Amy put her hand over her heart in empathy. "Please tell me he wasn't the guy you chose to lose your virginity to."

  Julie had never felt more stupid. "Everything seemed so different that night. He was different. Needless to say, things didn't work out between us."

  "So that explains why we never take the athletic contracts." Amy went into problem-solving mode. "What do you need me to do for you?"

  Julie had never appreciated her best friend and right-hand woman more. "I can't see him again."

  "I guessed. And I'm also guessing that you don't want to hook the Outlaws up with a new company, right?"

  "Of course not. I need the money, for the building."

  "Okay then, consider Ty my problem from now on." Amy grinned. "And you can be absolutely certain that I will exact painful revenge upon him for hurting you."

  Finally, Julie found a smile. "Good. And thank you."

  Amy fiddled with her wedding ring for a few seconds, and Julie knew what she wanted to ask.

  "Since I know you're wondering," she told her friend, "it was great."

  Amy laughed, helping Julie finally break out of her self-pity. "Thank you for telling me. I've been married for so long, I need to live vicariously through you."

  The rest of the day, as Julie threw herself into her work, she waited for relief to wash over her. Ty was Amy's problem now. They'd conduct all of their meetings outside the office; Amy would accompany him to charity events; she'd be the one teaching him how to give his fans a chas
te peck on the cheek in 11 out of the cameras, or better yet, a handshake.

  But relief never came. Instead, during her South Beach Diet meal for one that evening, she found herself worrying about Ty's effect on her best friend. Could any woman really withstand that charm, the sensual power he wielded? What if Amy fell for him? Ty was the ultimate woman magnet--even an intelligent, married woman like Amy wouldn't be able to help herself. What if Ty came between Amy and her husband, Jon? Julie would never forgive herself for pawning him off on her friend if that happened. If she'd had a male employee, she would have passed Ty off to him in an instant.

  Julie hated how inadequate everything about her life and her business seemed a mere twelve hours after Ty had swaggered back into her life. She'd been happy, damn it. She'd enjoyed quiet nights at home, pleasant dates, occasional affairs that quickly fizzled out. How boring it now seemed in comparison to him. His house was an all-day party, and even his private underground room outdid her sleek, unfussy home across from Golden Gate Park.

  Unable to sleep that night, she didn't know why she'd even bothered going to bed. She tried to convince herself that her excess energy was nothing more than anger at the way Ty had manipulated her into being with him again, but every cell in her body called her a liar.

  She had taken the job, gone to his house, let him take her clothes off all because she wanted to be with him again. She'd been so desperate for more sex with him that she'd been perfectly willing to give up all of the principles by which she lived her life. Just like the first time.

  How was it that five seconds with Ty made her lose hold of everything she was? Everything she'd worked so hard to build?

  And worse, why did she want nothing more than to have him here with her, in her bed, making her call out his name? Especially when she'd vowed never to be in the same room with him ever again?

  Ty was bored. Strip clubs had been a lot of fun when he was twenty-one, but as the years went by, he felt more and more like a dirty old man watching young dancers shimmy in their G-strings and tassels. He'd had more than his fair share of groupies, stuffed twenties into countless G-strings. The women's faces all started to blur together after a while.

  Still, he tried to look like he was having a good time. After all, that was the whole point of tonight. He'd called his friends and told them to meet him at the Hustler Club. It was imperative that he be surrounded by a party and plenty of naked women, that people got drunk enough to whip out their cell phones and take pictures of him.

  Somebody would try to make some money off the shot, and then he'd have Julie right where he wanted her.

  Until then, he supposed he'd have to keep stuffing dollar bills into the dancers' G-strings, maybe even get a lap dance or two, make some personal sacrifices just to keep up the ruse.

  He grinned, already looking forward to seeing her bright and early tomorrow morning in Bobby's office.

  The phone rang at 7:00 A.M., waking Julie out of a deep sleep. Saturday was the only day she allowed herself to sleep later than sunrise. But since she hadn't actually fallen asleep until what felt like a few minutes ago, she was completely disoriented when she picked up the phone.

  A southern drawl was the last thing she expected. "Ms. Spencer?"

  She quickly sat up in bed, pushed her hair back from her face. No way could the new owner of the Outlaws calling her bright and early on a Saturday morning be a good thing. She swallowed past the sawdust in her mouth.

  "Speaking."

  "I believe I hired you to reform the finest player on my team?"

  What had Ty done? Because whatever it was, she had to hand it to him: He'd gotten the big guns to come out shooting.

  Right at her chest.

  "Yes, sir," she said. "Mr. Calhoun and I met briefly yesterday to go over our preliminary plan."

  "Did your plan include late-night visits to strip clubs, my dear?"

  Strip clubs? Oh, God! Shock and hurt hit her square across the chest. He'd gone from her nearly naked body straight to a stranger's naked body.

  She knew she didn't mean anything to him, but it hurt to have it slap her in the face.

  Before she managed to get her brain around a reply, he said, "We're in my office waiting for you. Aren't we, Mr. Calhoun?"

  From a distance, she heard Ty call out, "Hey, Julie. You missed a real fun time last night."

  His nerve was almost as enormous as his ego.

  "I'm on my way," she bit out, but the phone was already dead in her hands.

  While she set a speed record for showering, getting dressed, and putting on makeup, Julie imagined all the different ways she could murder Ty. But nothing she could think of was either gory enough or involved enough prolonged torture to suit her.

  She wanted blood and by God, she was going to get it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Good morning, sunshine."

  The smile that Julie pinned on her face nearly disintegrated in the face of Ty's cheerful,

  too-gorgeous-for-his-own-good-and-hers-too greeting.

  After a night of carousing, it just wasn't fair that he should look so good. He was still an irresistible bundle of muscles and heat, his long tanned fingers stroking the arm of his chair, as if he wished he was caressing skin rather than cold leather.

  At least she presented a pretty picture in front of her nemesis and the very powerful, rather unattractive man who'd hired her to perform a miracle. She'd known plenty of men like Bobby Wilson--men who prided themselves on wielding power in the most distressing way possible. Without fail, the women who bested these men were not simply beautiful to a fault, they were feminine and ever-gracious as well.

  Her blouse was appealing without being overtly sexy, and if ever there was a time for the little pink skirt that swished around her knees and the shoes with the cute bows on the back of the heel, this meeting was it.

  "I sure hope I didn't disturb your beauty sleep, Ms. Spencer," Bobby said.

  Julie didn't believe him for one second. He would love to know that he'd wrecked her entire life with his phone call.

  "It was a pleasure to hear from you," she said, letting her hand be enveloped by his damp one.

  Bobby's handshake was limp, like a dead fish. Lovely.

  She turned her smile up brighter, confident in her ability to charm the team's owner. Ty wasn't the only one with charisma in his corner. The difference was, she carefully chose who to dole it out to.

  "Please, have a seat," Bobby said, gesturing to an upholstered seat that was far too close to Ty for Julie's liking. But then, the same state was too close for comfort where he was concerned.

  She sat down and crossed her legs, far more pleased at the blatant appreciation in Ty's eyes than she should have been. Although she'd dressed to impress Bobby, she wasn't averse to Ty drooling over her--and all the things he was never going to get to touch and kiss again--as well.

  Bobby looked between Julie and Ty. "Well, if the two of you aren't the prettiest pair outside of a Miss America contest."

  Julie was disconcerted. Was there any way to graciously deflect that?

  Ty said, "Come on now, boss, we both know I don't hold a candle to Julie."

  Damn it, he wasn't supposed to compliment her, defending her from his horrible boss as well.

  Bobby sat on the edge of his antique desk, which creaked beneath him. "Too bad I couldn't have met you under nicer circumstances, Ms. Spencer."

  Her heart thumped in alarm, but Julie was a pro at presenting an outwardly calm demeanor. With quiet patience, she waited for Bobby to continue.

  "You see, pretty lady, I believed that hiring you as this young stud's image consultant meant that my days of dealing with his embarrassing public displays of affection for well-endowed young ladies had come to an end."

  She nodded. "Of course you did."

  "I'm nothing if not a fair man," he said. "That's why I'm happy to give you a chance to explain what caused these pictures to be taken last night."

  He handed her a stack of
pages printed from various internet gossip sites. In each and every one of them, Ty was cavorting with women with impossibly large breasts and small waists.

  Ty leaned over the arm of his seat to look at the pictures. "My hair is getting kind of long, don't you think? Might need to get a trim soon."

  Was he fucking kidding her? She'd nearly let him have sex with her yesterday at his house, and now that she was looking at pictures of him with other naked women, did he truly expect her to calmly sit there and comment on his hair?

  Fine. Two could play that game. "I'm sure these women could give you tips on how to deal with unwanted hair."

  He sat back looking extremely smug. "I've always appreciated a good Brazilian."

  Julie's face flamed before she could stop it. There was no point in making excuses to her new boss; it was always better to tell the truth in impossible-client situations like this. "I'm afraid, Mr. Wilson, that Mr. Calhoun is a bit of a wild card."

  Bobby nodded, clearly pleased by her pronouncement. "Why don't you just say what we're all thinking? He's a disaster."

  Ty interrupted. "We're not all thinking that."

  Julie smiled sweetly and looked at Ty. "Oh yes, we are."

  "Now, darlin'," Bobby continued, "if you don't have the skills to keep this wild child of mine under control, then you might as well resign right now."

  Never. Julie had always completed each and every assignment beautifully. No problem was too big, no personality too outlandish for her to shine up and present to the public as a new man or woman. But she knew simply stating her case wouldn't matter to a cretin like Bobby. She'd have to utilize her "pretty" card.

  She slowly re-crossed her legs, letting her skirt hike up a slight bit, then moved her ankle up, then down, doing her Christian Louboutin heels proud.

  She let her voice go a little breathless. "Now, Mr. Wilson, we both know I have no intention of resigning from this account."

  Unsurprisingly Bobby's eyes didn't make it much farther than her thighs.

  She continued, "From this moment forward, you can count on me to be personally responsible for Ty's reputation. I will guard it as if it were my own."