Don't Game Me (Game Lords Book 2)

by Zoe Forward

  “No, you’re not. You’re sweating.” She leaned forward and touched his damp forehead.

  “We’ve got to pick up the printing. It’s been almost an hour.”

  “Really?” One glance at her watch confirmed time had flown.

  “We also have an audience.”

  A huge group stood around them. She grumbled. “I still think you want to quit because I kicked your ass.”

  A man with a store nametag stepped up and held out his hand to Jake as he stood. “I’m the store manager. We’re honored to have you here, Mr. Allen. So psyched to watch you play your game. Wow.”

  Jake returned the handshake with a charming smile. “I’m sorry we monopolized this player so long.”

  “Would you mind posing for a picture with our team?” The manager bounced up and down with eagerness.

  “Sure.” There was no condescension in Jake’s tone. He shook hands with several other enthusiasts, smiling through personal recounts of Zoneworld Warrior highlights.

  Within seconds, at least twenty name-tag-wearing individuals surrounded him. Someone snapped a cell phone pic. Several female employees had Jake autograph the magazine and shoot some selfies.

  “Thanks for all this. Mind if I put the picture on Facebook?” the manager asked Jake.

  Jake shook his head. “Just don’t post the game score.”

  Becca suppressed a smile.

  “Your girlfriend sure is a good player,” the manager said.

  She opened her mouth to correct the guy’s assumption of them in a relationship, but Jake grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the checkout. He shot over his shoulder to the manager, “Thanks for letting us play.”

  As they waited in the short line, she whispered, “Why didn’t you let me correct that manager’s belief I’m your girlfriend?”

  “It wasn’t worth the gossip that’d come after that. Me out with Noah’s sister? They’ll post the pictures all over Facebook and Twitter. Big blow to my ego. Then we can only hope it doesn’t go viral. Jake Allen getting his ass handed to him at Electronics World.”

  “Good press, though.” Big blow to his ego? He didn’t want to be seen with her. That hurt.

  After they checked out, Jake’s phone rang. He yanked it out of his pocket and glanced at the image of a busty blonde on the screen. He sent the call to voicemail and shoved the phone into his jeans’ pocket.

  “Who called?” she asked as he walked to her side of the Mustang to let her in first.

  “No one.”

  Disappointment dug a hole in her stomach. “She looked pretty.”

  “You jealous, Becca?” He paused before opening the door.

  Her heart raced when he said her name in that low, caressing tone. “No.”

  “Stop looking at me like that. You’re killing me. What do you want from me?” His heated gaze burned into her. He was now so close she could smell his mixture of soap and deodorant.

  She wanted to scoot even closer, to immerse herself in his scent. Everything about him made her feel something far more important than sexy. Safe. “I think I made it clear yesterday.”

  He grasped the back of her head and pulled her into a kiss. His mouth opened over hers, his tongue demanding entrance, and she gave it to him. She melted, unable to resist the effect he had on her body. He kissed her until she was breathless, until her tongue was as wild as his, until she clutched his arms for balance.

  Then he let go.

  His arms dropped away from her. She threw a hand out to catch herself against the side of the car. Her eyes fluttered open and met his cool expression.

  He opened the door and helped her sit in the low seat. Dazed, she stared up at his frown.

  He leaned in above her. “This is the worst weekend for whatever this is to spiral out of control.”

  8

  Out of control? He’d swan dived off the cliff of sanity to kiss Becca again.

  Noah warned him this wasn’t allowed. Technically, Noah only warned him not to sleep with her. They hadn’t discussed semantics. Hell, having this conversation in his head was stupid. Noah meant a big fat no to everything.

  Kiss number two had been better than the first. He dwelled on her proposal he be her date and the possibility of saying yes. He couldn’t. They’d end up in bed.

  Jake hadn’t continued to discuss their spiral into crazy. He couldn’t. He might say something stupid. Such as yes to him and her tomorrow night.

  She remained quiet when they returned to the printer. Quiet Becca didn’t bode well. He waited for her to explode. He wished she would. Then everything could get back to normal with them arguing.

  He loaded the box of corrected printed items into the back seat, still stewing over the printer’s attempt to charge them a four-hundred-dollar emergency reprint free. Riding the crest of his tidal wave of frustration, Jake would’ve snapped if the printer hadn’t relented and taken off the charge.

  He cranked the car and flipped the air conditioning to high, shifting on the burning black leather seat. An incoming email indicated Germany wouldn’t be patient until Monday. Not good. He’d been working on this deal for special marketing in not only Germany but also all of Europe for months. The goggles had to sell big to make back all they’d borrowed to invest in production.

  “You mind if we pop by the office and have lunch there? I’ve got to take care of something that can’t wait.”

  “The office? Right now?” Becca’s eyes went wide. She nibbled on her bottom lip.

  Perhaps she’d been told about the no-work-this-weekend agreement he had with Noah. Maybe she resented him shutting down the kiss earlier. She had to understand the two of them couldn’t go where the kiss led.

  “We can order from Restaurant Laos. They deliver.” Please take my peace offering.

  “No one does Thai like them. It’s never a trip to New York without some Laos.” She flashed a small grin, but it didn’t erase her unease. Her statement lacked enthusiasm. She probably preferred they go to the restaurant in person.

  The dash clock indicated not enough time to do office work and have a sit-down meal. He dialed his temp assistant. “Kylie, I’m coming in for lunch in forty-five minutes. Order from Laos for delivery ASAP.”

  “What? Lunch? I thought you were out of the office today. Who did you say order from?” He heard shuffling in the background. Kylie had a pile of work to get through for him today. Was she screwing around because he wasn’t in the office? He despised employees wasting time on his dime.

  He held back an agitated snort over her unfamiliarity with his restaurant choice. “Restaurant Laos. Located around the block. Order the…” He almost said “normal,” but instead said, “The order we place for small business meetings. Oh, make sure to order the Kabocha chicken curry, and tell them to leave the mushrooms off the Pompano.”

  “Do you have a credit card for me to pay for this?”

  He ground his molars. Patience. She’s just a fill-in until Emma gets off wedding duty. “They have it on file.”

  “All righty, Mr. Allen. That’s Restaurant Taos. Enough for a business meeting.”

  “No. It’s Laos with an L, like the country. Place an order for a small business meeting. You can get the info on the restaurant from Noah’s assistant. Order now. We’re in a hurry today.” He hung up and pulled into traffic.

  “Emma’s fill-in not so great?” Becca asked.

  He swerved around several slow cars. “Kylie came on board last month. She’s not quite as efficient as Emma yet. Emma is one of a kind.”

  “Have you and Emma, you know?” she said in a suggestive tone.

  “What?” His head exploded with a fiery, are you shitting me? He gritted out his work mantra, “I don’t get involved with assistants.”

  “I heard you did. Once.”

  “That was a one-time mistake long ago. I drank too much, and she was at the club…” Why was he defending himself? He’d been barely twenty-two and stupid when it happened. Was Becca trying to provoke an ar
gument on purpose? Wait a second. That was good. That’s what he wanted, right? Them arguing…not kissing.

  “So, you could be involved with an assistant,” Becca interrupted. “You might even be interested. You just haven’t in a while. Would you with Emma?”

  “No. I’d never get involved with Emma or Kylie or anyone at work.”

  “So, you only date tall, blonde, curvy, non-work-related women. Like the one who phoned you at the store? She’s your type?”

  “I don’t have a specific type.” Tread carefully.

  “Magazines and online posts only seem to print pictures of you with highly photogenic girls.”

  “They do.”

  “So, I’m right?” Her judgmental tone put him on the defensive.

  “Right about what? Why are you jumping all over me?” He zoomed around a car going only a few miles above the speed limit and hit the accelerator when a small gap opened up on the highway. Becca grabbed the door handle. Maybe crazy driving would distract her enough to end this conversation.

  She snapped, “Stop driving like a moron. I’m just trying to understand who exactly your type is.”

  You. He would not admit that out loud.

  Playing Zoneworld Warrior had been a huge turn on. Well, so had kissing her. He couldn’t remember playing a game with a girl he was attracted to since high school, and back then he’d been hot for the only girl who gave him even a bit of competition. No woman of the past few years had more than a marginal interest in video games. Besides, he hadn’t hooked up in months.

  Finally, he said, “Whoever is my type is my business. A lot of girls call me.” That came out wrong. His tone implied she wasn’t his type and he wouldn’t hook up with her. Very far from the truth.

  This isn’t bad. It’s great. Push her away.

  She crossed her arms and glared daggers at him.

  A half-hour of uneasy, silent minutes later he led Becca into his office. No food.

  Damn it.

  Food might be enough to get Becca to talk again. Maybe even smile. She loved Thai.

  A pile of haphazard phone messages and interoffice mail littered his desk. No one piled crap on his desk. That was a cardinal rule in his office. He had appropriate baskets on the side table for this. He threw the mail into the right baskets and organized all the phone messages. Three from Germany.

  Where was Kylie?

  He rounded his desk and clicked the intercom for Emma’s office, a few doors down. “Where’s the food?”

  “Not here yet. I just ordered, uh…about fifteen minutes ago.” She was still sitting at her desk? Her job was to know when he arrived—that meant appearing in his office, ready to work.

  He released the intercom with an audible, “Damn it.”

  His gaze met Becca’s. “Sorry.”

  Becca smiled as if entertained by his frustration.

  He fingered one of the phone messages and said into the intercom again, “The message from Renke from an hour ago…I need his phone number.”

  “I assumed you had it,” Kylie replied.

  “Did you write down the number?”

  “No. You need it? I can text Emma or something.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” He switched off the intercom. On his cell, he dialed Emma. She answered on the second ring. “I need Renke’s number…”

  Emma rattled off the international number. “Are you at the office?”

  That was a land mine. With his promise to Noah about work he didn’t want to put Emma in an awkward situation. She’d never rat him out on purpose. If Noah found out he’d feel like a shit. But this level of feeling like a shit wouldn’t equal that after the catastrophe of Noah finding out he’d kissed his sister.

  Still, he wasn’t defending himself to his assistant. “We’re eating lunch at the office. See you guys later.”

  “New chairs?” Becca shifted around in one of the designer white cloth and metal chairs positioned into a square around a coffee table in front of his desk.

  He nodded. The modern design chairs weren’t his choice, but their image consultant thought his office needed an upgrade several months ago. Its new streamlined look supposedly broadcast the rhythm of new century modern. He found the overpriced furniture stiff, impersonal, and ugly as hell, even if it was supposedly ergonomic. When he had time, he’d get the old stuff back.

  As with everyone who sat in the particular chair she’d chosen, Becca discovered it was unforgiving and hit her back at a funny angle.

  She settled onto the edge of the seat. He wanted to rip off those jeans and kneel in front of her. His tongue would slide past her underwear and lick until she lost control. He locked his jaw.

  No. A cold shower and your hand are the closest you’ll get.

  “So, what’s your guess on the ETA of lunch?” Her stomach grumbled loudly. She offered him an apologetic smile. “I skipped breakfast, and I forgot my coffee on my parents’ kitchen counter.”

  “I’m hoping soon.” His tone came out tight.

  “I’m sorry for the argument in the car. Let’s forget about that and what happened last night. Let’s have lunch and get to the rehearsal.”

  “Not sure forgetting yesterday or the parking lot will be an option.” He wouldn’t forget their kisses. His body clamored for contact with her. To kiss her again. To act out his fantasy with her in the chair.

  Her eyes dilated, and she licked her lips. Subconscious acquiescence of their attraction? She’d fight him if he tried anything right now. Or maybe not. One or two deep kisses, if he made them dirty kisses, considering the combustible nature of their chemistry, and she’d melt.

  His habit of spitting out odds kicked in. If he initiated, this was far more trouble than he needed.

  She scowled.

  He sighed. “I’ll make this call, and then we’ll have lunch.”

  “Great.” She gave him a tolerant smile. “You want me to grab some drinks from Noah’s fridge? If I recall, you never keep food or drinks in your office.”

  “I’ll take a water. Thanks.” He dialed Germany.

  The flutter in Becca’s belly in reaction to Jake’s declaration he wouldn’t forget their kisses grew. Something about kicking Jake’s ass and laughing with him while playing the game opened a floodgate of flustered and bizarre emotion she couldn’t label. His unguarded moments this afternoon proved him a pretty daggone cool guy, one she could laugh with.

  But the flutter soured to pain. She didn’t deserve laughter with him. This was her moment to use the fake phone to connect with an office computer. She could do it in Noah’s office.

  She couldn’t do this.

  She had to.

  No, she didn’t.

  She chickened out.

  Becca scurried out of Jake’s office, taking deep gasps of air in front of the elevator. Breathing didn’t get easier on the ride up a floor to her brother’s office. Tears prickled her eyes as she walked the long hallway to Noah’s office. She swiped them away.

  She couldn’t do it. Failure settled in her stomach and spread out like a sponge. She shivered even though it wasn’t cold in the office and wrapped her arms around herself.

  Get drinks. Back to Jake’s office. Focus.

  She didn’t remember getting drinks or riding down in the elevator, but when she almost collided with a twenty-something petite girl carrying four extra-large paper bags, her haze cleared. Her nose alerted her lunch had arrived. The girl wore no makeup, and she’d pulled most of her frizzy brown hair into a ponytail. Tight workout pants for work? At her internship, Becca never dared workout pants. She wouldn’t be caught dead in public in workout clothes unless she was traveling between the car and gym, not that she could afford to belong to a gym. This girl exemplified hot mess.

  “Are you Kylie?” Becca asked.

  The girl’s eyes widened. She nodded.

  “I’m Becca, Noah Harrison’s sister. If you want, I’ll take the food to Jake. He’s… Well, he’s in a mood today after we just ran a wedding errand.
Apparently, there’s some sort of marketing crisis he’s dealing with.”

  “That’d be super of you.” She handed over the bags. “I wasn’t expecting him to be in today. I’m just filling in for Emma, you know.” She smoothed a hand down her Yale T-shirt. “Emma is so put together all the time and today I… My boyfriend was in town last night and…”

  “Got it.” She flashed a girl-support smile, not really interested in what promised to be details of this girl and her boyfriend, details she’d probably never get out of her head.

  “Hey, can you tell him his marketing manager wants a few minutes today, if he’s got time?”

  “Sure. We’ve got the wedding rehearsal soon and dinner afterward. I doubt there’s time for a marketing meeting.” The food was heavy and tough to juggle with the four drinks.

  “Food,” she announced as she entered Jake’s office. She mouthed a silent oops and sorry when she realized he was still speaking into the phone.

  She arranged food on the coffee table and watched Jake as he switched speaking between German and English on the phone while scrolling screens on his computer.

  She could pull out Pascal’s phone and pretend to web surf, key in the sequence, and allow it to sync to his computer, which he had open. So simple. Yet, complex as hell.

  A reach into her small purse to grip the phone… She dropped it back into the purse.

  Jake said good-bye and hung up.

  He fanned one hand through his hair and glanced up. “Sorry about that. Call took longer than I expected.”

  “Food?” she choked out. Fear of the consequences of disregarding Pascal’s order buzzed through her.

  She tried to look hopeful about eating even though the concept of eating increased her stomach pain.

  “Fix me a plate. I’m going to wash my hands. Back in a minute.” He strode out.

  Now. This was her golden moment. Him out of the room.

  She gripped the phone tight again as she opened its home screen and clicked on the appropriate app. Four more button pushes. Click-click on the right and then the left. One final click on the right.