Enforcer (Seattle Sharks Book 2)

by Samantha Whiskey

  How could I have done that? Put out that offer, my fantasies, my body? My embarrassment was only topped by the relief that he hadn’t taken everything I’d offered. Relief, regret...whatever. Not that it mattered. He obviously wasn’t interested, and I wasn’t chasing a guy who had to be convinced to sleep with me.

  My breath caught in my throat, and I cleared it, remembering my father was still on the phone. “I’m sorry if I disappointed you. It won’t happen again.” I cut my father off mid-lecture, forcing my voice not to reveal the breathlessness caused by Rory’s presence.

  “I just need you to be aware of the incredible responsibility you’re taking on in three months. It’s not just the company’s reputation at stake. It’s our employee’s livelihoods.”

  Good lord, it was just a dress! And it had worked. “I understand. Excuse me, father, but I have to go.”

  “Right. I’ll see you on Monday. Unless I can convince you to change your mind about your mother’s dinner party?”

  “Too much work to do.”

  And one Shark to avoid like the plague he obviously thinks I am.

  “Of course.”

  I hung up the phone and set it on the table, my eyes never leaving Rory’s back. I know I’d had more scotch and sodas than I normally ever would’ve indulged in that night, but I remembered every single moment of his hands on my skin, his mouth on my core. I was certain I’d never told him about where I lived or where I liked to pass my time. This shop had been one of my best-kept secrets since I bought property a few blocks away over a year ago. And I’d never seen a Shark just wander in.

  Anne giggled as she handed Rory a large, white paper cup. I quickly returned my eyes to the financial reports in front of me. Part of me hoped he’d walk out without seeing me, the other part—the lower portion of me that throbbed with a near painful pulse—begged to be seen.

  “Paige?”

  Oh good Lord, did he have to say my name like that? I couldn’t hide the blush flushing my cheeks as I slowly brought my gaze up from the laptop.

  “Rory.”

  He grabbed the chair opposite me with his free hand and dropped into it. His blue eyes sparked with a heat I recognized in my core, and the damn smirk he sported said he knew how much of an effect he had on me. I might as well be wearing a neon sign that said Property of Rory. “Good to see you.”

  I tried to return his smile. I’d crushed on the hockey star ever since he’d been drafted to the Sharks five years ago—how was it he’d rarely said more than two sentences to me all the times we’d seen each other at Bailey and Gage’s, and now he acted like we were old friends? Seemed like the dirty-girl bucket list came with a set of karmic conditions—ones that made me face my own forwardness and the embarrassment over it.

  Honestly, what had I been thinking making him a business proposition that included using him to check off every item I had on the list for the next three months? Of course, I knew it wouldn’t hurt his reputation to be attached to me—the pristine Paige Turner—for three months, either, but still. I shouldn’t have been so bold. I’d blame Jeannine, but I knew deep down why I did it.

  Because you knew you would never get another chance like it even if you lived to be one-hundred. The reality of the fact had the fluttering butterflies dropping in my stomach like lead weights. I’d offered myself, and he’d decided the sample had been more than enough.

  “They don’t have coffee at the rink?” I asked, more upset with myself for wanting what I absolutely couldn’t have.

  “Ouch. Aren’t you a tad bit happy to see me?” A crease formed between his eyebrows, the same one I’d glimpsed in the limo on the way to the Four Seasons last week. I sighed, my fingers twitching in my lap with the need to touch his face.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s all right.” He waved me off, and the strained look was instantly replaced by the cool, confident face I was more used to seeing. “I’m not stalking you...” he arched a perfect eyebrow at me. “Unless that makes you hot?”

  I sputtered around the sip of Americano I’d just taken, the joke cracking the wire-tight tension around the table that now seemed incredibly small with his form taking up the other half. “No, that doesn’t do it for me.”

  He tilted his head, a few loose strands of blond hair falling on his forehead. He licked his lips, and I stopped breathing for a few seconds. He leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Bailey told me where you’d be.”

  Traitor. Best friend ever. Jury was still out.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Jackson?” I adopted the voice I used in the boardroom, knowing from our brief moments together he liked the idea of controlling a woman who was used to being in control.

  “Careful, Red.” He took a slow sip of his coffee. “Keep talking to me like that and I won’t be so careful with you in public.”

  My eyes widened. “Are you threatening me with PDA?” He cracked a grin, and I shook my head. “No, of course not,” I continued. “Rory Jackson is a renowned playboy. Affection would be the last thing on his mind.” The fact came out sharper than I’d intended and I parted my lips to apologize, but he held his hand up to stop me.

  “You think you know me so well.” He shook his head. “Read a few articles. Watch a few documentaries, and everyone is an expert on who I am and what I want.”

  I chuckled.

  “What’s so funny, Red?”

  My heart raced every time he used his adopted nickname for me. I sucked in a breath, forcing myself to be as confident and calm as he was. “You forget I’m not just any fan.”

  “Oh? Are you the stalker now?”

  “Hardly.” I openly looked him up and down. “Though I do have eyes. And have been privy to your moves on more than one occasion while at Gage’s.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve never once tried anything with you there.”

  I sank back in my chair, suddenly giving too much thought to the reasoning behind that fact. “True,” I said, ignoring the insecurities I had no point digging up. “But I was never the only woman there. In fact, I believe I’ve personally seen, and sometimes heard, you with five different women on five separate occasions.” Not that I had counted.

  He hissed, looking down at his cup and swirling the contents inside.

  “Don’t be ashamed,” I said, reaching out and touching his wrist. “I wouldn’t be. I find it refreshing when someone can own who they really are and not give a shit who sees it.”

  He looked up at me, his eyes lighting up like he’d never seen me before. I pulled my hand back and grinned. “So,” I continued. “No, I’m not the typical fan, but I do know you a little better than you think.”

  “Trust me. You wouldn’t know what to do with me if you really knew me.”

  “I think I could handle it.” I offered him my mug, and he tapped his cup against it. The silence was heavy as we took our drinks but not as awkward as I thought it would be.

  “Now,” I said, setting my mug down. “Tell me why you asked Bailey where I’d be today.”

  “Had a rough practice.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “And you thought I could help somehow?” Did he want me to rub his sore muscles? While in the shower? My mouth watered just picturing it.

  He glanced around the café as if he feared we might be overheard. There were only a few other patrons in the shop, and they were across the room. The slow pace of the café was one of the reasons why I adored it so much. “Coach wouldn’t let up on me. He’s still pissed about the bar incident.”

  I nodded, completely understanding his coach’s position. If one of my employees had as many violent encounters as Rory had, then I’d have the person on a three strike system. I gasped, tilting my head. “What strike are you on?”

  A smile shaped his lips as he shook his head. “You never stop surprising me, Red.”

  “Not used to being with a woman with a mind of her own?”

  “Am I with you? I thought we were just ticking items off a list
, and I haven’t seen a contract, yet.” He licked his lips again, and I huffed, completely flustered every time the man brought any attention to his damn mouth—which I knew all too well what it was capable of doing to my body. “You have one, don’t you? A contract?” He asked with a full-out grin. If I hadn’t already been sitting down, my knees would have buckled.

  “You’re avoiding the question,” I said, struggling to keep my composure.

  “Which one?”

  “Strikes.”

  “Ah,” he said, sighing. “I’ve lost count.”

  My mouth popped into the shape of an O before I reigned it in. The idea of him being benched scared me almost as much as the idea of him taking me up on my offer of an exclusive relationship for three months. “You’re the best enforcer we have. You can’t keep this up, Rory. We need you.”

  He chuckled. “How long have you been a Shark?”

  “Longer than you.”

  “Ha!” He smacked his hand on the table. “You’re something else.”

  “I thought we established that the other night.”

  He leaned over the table, drawing closer to me. “We only scratched the surface that night.”

  My chest rose and fell rapidly as I couldn’t hold a single breath with him so close, his scent tickling every nerve in my body. “Oh?”

  He nodded, leaning back in his chair. “I’d like to take you up on your offer.”

  “Oh?” I wasn’t capable of another word, the idea of having Rory to myself for three whole months before I had to swear off sex-God men like him forever stole every intelligible thought I may have had.

  “Who could pass it up? You pitched it so well.” His tongue ran across his lower lip like he could still taste me.

  My thighs clenched.

  “It’s what I do.”

  “You ready for me to show you what I do?” He shifted his long legs beneath the table, his knee brushing mine. A flare of heat flew across my skin, and I glanced down at the financial reports I’d all but forgotten spread across the table.

  “No,” I said, my shoulder dropping. The crease between his brow was back, so I hurried on. “I have to finish this.” I pointed to my laptop and stack of papers next to it. “How about dinner at my place tonight?”

  He smoothed out his face in a blink and finished off the coffee in his cup. “Tell me when and where.”

  I clicked my pen and wrote out my address on a piece of paper. “I never give this out,” I said, slipping it into his hand. “And if you could make sure the paparazzi aren’t following you—at least until we finalize all the details of our arrangement—I would appreciate it.”

  He shook his head and stood, flashing me that brilliant smile that was equal parts charm and pure sex. Leaning down, he put his mouth right next to my ear. “You know, Paige, I think three months will give me just enough time to fuck that business tone right out of you.”

  Turning on his heels, he left me sitting there with my mouth hanging open with no words on my tongue. I watched him walk away, enjoying every inch of the view until he was out of sight. Fanning myself with one stack of reports that I had to get done, I shifted in my seat. Three months with Rory and I’d have to invest in an entirely new line of lingerie because I couldn’t seem to keep dry around the man.

  Chapter 5

  Rory

  Fucking grow a pair and go in already! My knee bounced uncontrollably in the back of the sedan, my driver waiting patiently as I sat and stewed outside Paige’s house. I was already twenty minutes late—exactly the amount of time it had taken me to get to Phantom, walk inside the club and exit out the back entrance. The paparazzi had followed me and hopefully would wait there for me to leave through the front. Paige was clear on her terms when it came to the paps catching us before we knew exactly what we were doing.

  Maybe that is why I couldn’t get my ass out of the car. I’d never been nervous to have dinner with a woman. Hell, I didn’t even twitch when a puck bunny had thrown me a curveball and showed up with my name tattooed on her hip.

  No, I was a go-with-the-flow kind of man, but Paige was all business and all out of my league. When she made her offer, I thought I’d fallen into one of the many fantasies I’d had about her since the first time Bailey had introduced us. Three months of no-strings-attached sex with the redhead that invaded my dreams so many times I was waking up every day as hard as a teenager again? Hell. Fucking. Yes. And if it cleaned up my image enough to appease coach and keep me on the ice? Then win, win.

  So why are you still sitting in the car like a scared little boy?

  A deep breath and a mental kick in the balls later, I shoved open the door and told my driver I’d call him. He’d been with me for years and knew the score—sometimes I wanted a quick escape and others I didn’t mind staying the night. I wasn’t sure which tonight would turn into and always liked to be prepared either way.

  I gripped the bottle of Merlot between fingers I refused to acknowledge were sweaty. I’d been with so many gorgeous women I couldn’t count, why was Paige getting under my skin?

  Because she’s the first woman to see through your bullshit and the first one to ever go after what she wants with the same tenacity as you do on the ice.

  Fuck, that was the truth. I’d never been with a woman like Paige, and for good reason. She was smarter than me, stronger than me, and had her whole life mapped out whereas I was simply trying to maintain some semblance of order in mine.

  I wrapped my knuckles against her door, swallowing down the nerves that only flared in her presence. Gage would be furious the second he found out we were together—or whatever version of a story she wanted to tell people—but that shit I could handle. It was everything else I was worried about. What would being with a woman like Paige would do to me, even if it were only a few months? What happened if I couldn’t hack it with her?

  Or worse...if I fell for her?

  The large mahogany door swung open, Paige leaning against the knob in a smooth black dress that rested modestly below her knees but was tight enough to show off her impeccable body. My fingers itched to touch her smooth skin again and my mouth watered with the memory of her taste. She was fucking exquisite.

  “I was beginning to think you’d bolt.”

  I stepped past her, handing her the bottle of wine. “What?”

  She motioned to my driver who reversed onto the street. “You were out there for nearly ten minutes. You afraid I’d bite?”

  I tilted my head. “How’d you—”

  She closed the door and pointed to the corner of the ceiling behind me. A single camera pointed toward us, covering the entryway of the home.

  “Ah,” I said, turning back to her. “I see.” My eyes trailed to her breasts, which peeked through the small V of her dress as she hugged the bottle of wine to her. I cleared my throat. “How many more of those do you have?”

  She tapped her fingers against the glass bottle. “The whole house and exterior are covered.” Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she moved through the entryway and I followed her into a dining room bigger than the one in my loft.

  “Trouble with stalkers?” I joked as she set the bottle on the large wooden table that was set with two places. Candles illuminated the family style feast she had prepared—pasta and salad and fresh garlic bread.

  She laughed as she darted into the kitchen that sat just off the dining room and returned with a wine opener. “I only have one stalker that I’m aware of,” she said, eyeing me as she reached for the bottle.

  “Let me.” I stopped her, taking both items from her hands and opening the wine. “Do you have a cook?” I asked, more because I wanted to know if we were alone in the huge house or if I had to watch my words around staff.

  She shook her head, her soft red waves falling across her shoulders. “Of course not. Do you?”

  I poured wine into the available glasses on the table and sat across from her. “No, I just didn’t peg you for a woman who cooks.”

&nbs
p; “Ah,” she said, wrapping her fingers around her glass and taking a slow sip. “Because I can’t possibly run a company and be domestic?”

  I pursed my lips, hissing. “Hit a nerve, did I?”

  She licked her lips and set the glass down. “Maybe.”

  I raised my hands in defense. “Not intentional, Red.” Her cheeks flushed the color of the wine, and I smirked. Every time I called her that she blushed. I made a mental note to do it as often as fucking possible.

  “Moving on.” She grabbed the wooden serving spoons and made me a plate. “I hope you like Italian.” She handed it to me.

  “I assumed as my biggest fan you would know it’s my favorite.” I cocked an eyebrow at her, wondering if we’d already started playing a game.

  She laughed again, and my chest filled so much I couldn’t breathe. I rubbed at the spot, squinting as I wondered about the source of the sensation.

  “You all right?” she asked, setting her filled plate before her.

  “Fine,” I said and dropped my hand.

  “Bailey told me.”

  “What?”

  “Told me this was your favorite.”

  I grinned. “I’ve never been on this end of a seduction before.” I took a quick bite, and my eyes rolled back in my head. Damn. I might fucking marry her just to eat like this on the reg. I held up my finger. “Note, just because you made me dinner doesn’t mean I’ll put out.”

  Her fork clanked loudly against her plate as she swallowed her bite a little too hard, and my chest puffed out a fraction. I couldn’t help it. I loved it when my mouth surprised her—in more ways than one.

  “Well,” she said, dabbing at her red lips with a napkin. “If I would’ve known that I probably wouldn’t have put in all the effort.”

  “Ouch,” I teased, taking another bite.

  Her stunning green eyes stared at the wine in the glass before her lips a little too long.

  “What is it?” I asked, the jokes suddenly drying up in my mouth.

  She blinked a few times before taking a gulp. “Are we crazy?”