by Janice Lynn
“What?” His surprised yap echoed around the gym. Right then and there, he mentally bowed to her audacity. And her power to drive him beyond reason.
“If I reach twenty points first, you have to kiss me.”
“You’re crazy. No way in hell am I playing with those terms.”
“Afraid you might lose?” she taunted, with a sassy shake of her long dark ponytail.
Lose? With stakes like those, he wanted to lose.
Scratch that. He didn’t want to give her any ideas. He had to convince her he was totally against an affair between the two of them. Of course, it would help if he could convince himself.
Besides, she couldn’t beat him. Not at basketball. While growing up, he’d spent entire days at the neighborhood court. He and his brother sure hadn’t had anything else to do during the long hours his mom slaved at one of her many jobs. Basketball was his game.
“Fine. What do I get when I win?”
“You’re sure you don’t want your kissing me to be the prize either way?” Her lower lip pouted almost imperceptibly, but he noticed.
Man, did he notice. Every single cell in his body stood to full attention.
He looked up, and his gaze landed on one of the two cameras attached to opposite corners of the gym’s ceiling.
“I’m sure.” Sure kissing her was exactly what he wanted but wouldn’t do.
Her lips twisted in amusement as she considered him. “Name your prize, and it’s yours.”
“Anything?”
Her words had been heavy with innuendo. Hot desire flared, threatening to melt his tennis shoes to the gym floor.
“Anything,” she whispered low, her lips parted and her green eyes dripped with desire and fire.
Oh, yeah, she planned to make him suffer for his rejection.
Every single drop of testosterone screamed for him to play for one night in her bed. For that one night he’d be the winner. But then he’d lose. Big time. He had a feeling there was no way he could really win when it came to Jane.
“When I beat you, you have to kiss one of the bachelors tomorrow.”
Had he said that? Idiot. What kind of incentive was that for him to win? For her to kiss another man?
Hell, he really did want to lose.
She looked taken aback, then shrugged with a saucy roll of her shoulders. “If that’s what you want.”
She passed the ball. “Producers first.”
Twenty points. Piece of cake.
Ten fast-paced minutes later, they were tied twelve to twelve. Maybe the bachelors hadn’t let her win after all, he grudgingly admitted to himself as he dribbled down court.
“Do you give up?” She swatted the ball, but failed to steal it as he switched hands.
“You wish,” he laughed in spite of his inner turmoil. What was it about her that made him feel good inside even when he was trying to hang on to all the reasons why he shouldn’t be with her? Shouldn’t let her close?
She slapped at the ball again, causing him to lose control. He snatched it before she stole it away.
“You really should go ahead and forfeit. You can’t win this game.” Yeah, he’d already worked that one out for himself. Was she still talking about basketball?
“I will win this game, and you will kiss one of the bachelors. Tomorrow.” But damn if he wanted to think about another man tasting what he wanted.
“Which one would you like me to kiss? Jeff? Steve?” Her lips twitched.
None of them. “Which ever one turns you on.”
“You turn me on.”
He missed his shot.
What could he say? She turned him on too, but not enough to ruin JP’s career. Or his. Or to get involved with a woman who craved the spotlight, for that matter.
She grinned, looked him over from head to toe and rebounded the ball. When he didn’t respond, she dribbled out and cut through toward the goal for a lay-up.
He refused to allow her an easy score. He blocked her path, but she swapped hands, shot, and the ball bounced from the backboard and through the net. Swish.
“Nice shot,” he admitted. “Enjoy it. You won’t see another.”
“You think?” She placed a hand on her hip, drawing his attention to how the cotton material stretched over her curves.
“I know.” And he did. He knew he was in a helluva lot of trouble if he didn’t quit looking at how her breasts heaved with her rapid breathing. Or how her bottom looked like it would fit perfectly in his hands as he pulled her to his hips.
“Come on,” she urged, her eyes flashing as if she’d read his thoughts and teased him with her word choice. “What are you waiting on? For me to die from boredom? It’s not going to happen, dude. Take your turn or pass me the ball.”
He took the ball out, shot from three-point land, and, despite Jane’s valiant blocking attempt, sank it through the net.
“Whoosh!” Elation filled him. He couldn’t remember the last time something so pure and simple as a game had excited him. Maybe not since he was a child and he’d beat his brother for the first time. He grinned at her and strutted his stuff. “There it is.”
She rolled her eyes, but when her gaze met his, happiness danced in her green depths. “Show off.”
They battled another two no-scoring change of possessions. She ducked around him and sank the ball for another two points, taking the lead by one.
He shot. She jumped, caught a piece and knocked it off course. It hit the backboard with a thud. He jumped for the rebound, but landed his front to Jane’s backside. Her firm buttocks pressed against him. Heat--her heat--radiated through the thin material separating their bodies, scorching his brain.
Rebounding plummeted to the bottom of his priority list.
The ball hit the floor and rolled away. Neither of them moved. He honestly couldn’t recall putting his hand around her waist, but it was there, so he must have. Her flat abdomen contracted beneath where his palm pressed against her right side. Every drop of blood in his body headed south.
She inhaled with a noisy catch as he grazed his thumb along the lower edge of her breast. Needing to see her face, he rotated her. She met his gaze with wide, kryptonite eyes full of desire. Every reason he shouldn’t kiss her disappeared as insanity for her filled him. He lowered his head, almost stumbling backwards when she yanked free from his loose embrace to dart after the ball.
He frowned. What had happened? Why had she run off when she’d admitted she wanted him only minutes before?
Because she wanted him to pay for his callous comment in the exercise room. She wanted him to sweat. To squirm.
And he was.
Aw hell.
The cameras.
He’d almost kissed her. He wanted to kiss her. And he was battling to ensure another man got what he wanted. Idiot.
He wiped moisture from his brow. He needed to win this game and get away from the sight of Jane’s sexy rear-end. Pronto.
She pressed her way toward the goal, arm pushing, butt bumping as she held him back. He didn’t want to touch her, but he wasn’t going to let her score. She only needed two baskets to win.
And then he’d have to kiss her.
He blinked. She scored. Damn.
With a feisty grin she tossed him the ball. He inhaled, caught the ball, and tried to refocus on the game.
He didn’t score, but neither did she.
He fought to make two more baskets. She battled just as hard to make sure he didn’t. She was good. He admired her spunk. Did she put her heart and soul into everything she did? Without a doubt, he’d never met anyone like this feisty woman.
“Give up?” he mimicked her earlier taunt, knowing she’d rather take a punch to the gut.
“Never!” she declared, swiping at the ball without luck.
He shot, missed, but caught his rebound and slammed it. One more and victory was his. No more squirming. Not until he had to watch her kiss one of the bachelors. “Sure you don’t want to call it quits before I humiliate you?
”
She shot him an eat-crap-and-die look, and he burst out with laughter.
“Just make sure you don’t blame it on your old age when I beat you,” she warned.
“Okay, spring chicken. Bring it on.”
She brought the ball in, and he blocked her shot. She got the rebound and shot again. He jumped and snagged the ball. She stayed on him, fighting gallantly, but he pulled back at the last second and sank another from three-point land.
Yes.
“Game over.”
“Best two out of three?” She wiped her hand across her brow, then bent over to catch her breath.
“Not on your life.” He tried not to look down the neckline of her t-shirt at the tantalizing glimpse of her sport’s bra- covered breasts. Tried, and failed.
She wasn’t the only one trying to catch her breath. He was almost woozy from lack of air.
“Now who’s chicken?” She looked up and grinned impudently when she caught his stare. Had she purposely provided him with the view?
“Nice try. Just see to it you keep your end of the deal.”
Her lashes swept her cheeks. “You’re sure you don’t want to change your mind?”
“About?” he asked. Damn, but she was flirting with fire with her pouty lips and bedroom eyes.
“Your prize.”
Oh crap. He’d just won the game and lost her kiss to one of the bachelors. What had he done?
The right thing.
So why did it feel like the wrong move?
Still, he said what needed saying, “Make sure you wear kiss proof lipstick on your outings with the bachelors tomorrow. You’re going to need it.”
Chapter Seven
The next morning, a frustrated Rob jogged around the corner of a tall hedge in one of the castle’s many gardens. Until they’d rented the estate, it had been used as a private playground for the mega wealthy. The setting was perfect for JANE MILLIONAIRE.
The sun was barely in the sky. Streaks of red and gold light broke through the early morning haze. A bird chirped in the distance, singing its early morning song.
No matter that Rob should still be in bed. He hadn’t been able to go back to sleep and he’d needed to work off some steam. Out of the castle. Away from Jane.
Barely less than two weeks since he’d met the bewitching woman, and she occupied his every waking thought.
And a great many of his sleeping ones based upon the dreams he’d had during the night. Dreams starring Jane. Hot dreams of them battling it out on the basketball court and his winning her kiss. Dreams of his stripping those tight shorts and t-shirt off her and making love to her right there on the basketball court. No cameras allowed.
Sweat trickled down his neck and he picked up his pace, hoping to exhaust his body to the point of forgetting her. If only for a few hours.
Jane. Had he ever wanted a woman more? Not even Mandy had wound him into such a blundering mass of hormones--and he’d been seventeen, hormonally over-endowed and cocky with his film success when he’d first met his ex-wife.
Which explained a lot of things, but not his fascination with his current star.
JP had done an excellent job in choosing Jane. The bachelors were sure to be eating out of her hands before the end of the month. Only four days and they were already making fools of themselves left and right--not that he blamed them or could claim to be any better. He was doing a pretty bang up job of foolhardy behavior himself.
When had staying away from a woman been so hard? Actually, staying away wasn’t what was hard. He was. The mere thought of Jane had his body tightening into a contracted bundle of muscles.
The woman was driving him insane. The need to kiss her, taste her, plunge inside her. He groaned at the image of Jane arched beneath him. She would meet him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, thrust for thrust. She wouldn’t lie there mentally rehearsing her film debut, planning her acceptance speech at the Oscars and her wardrobe for the Golden Globe--not like the last woman he’d accidentally let close a few years ago.
“Oh!” A surprised feminine grunt sounded as a firm body slammed into his.
He stumbled back but managed to stay on his feet, which was more than he could say for his early morning attacker. “Are you okay?”
Jane stared up at him dazed. She wore baggy jogging pants and a t-shirt that left little to his imagination--which had already been working overtime for hours on end.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here this early,” she said, not moving from her fallen position.
Yeah, he hadn’t expected to run into anyone either--especially not her. And not literally.
When she continued to sit on the hard ground, he reached to help her to her feet. Big mistake. He knew better than to touch her. Lightning flashed any time their skin made contact. He’d promised himself after their game last night that he wouldn’t touch her. Not ever again. Yet, here he stood waiting for her to put her hand into his.
Her dazed eyes shifted to his outstretched hand, stared at it a moment, then she looked away. Without a word, she licked her lower lip, and held her palms out to inspect them. A tiny drop of blood pooled on her scraped skin.
He’d hurt her.
His free hand clenched.
Emotions he couldn’t label, as he’d never experienced them before, rushed through him.
Emotions he didn’t understand and was pretty sure he didn’t want.
Emotions that demanded he protect this woman no matter what the personal cost.
He didn’t like the feeling, didn’t want to examine why he’d feel this way about her, and why he didn’t have the power to walk away when she needed him.
He lowered and lifted her to her feet.
“Are you okay?” he repeated his earlier question.
She shook her head, not speaking. His arms still held her, and he became achingly aware of her body mere inches from his.
Her tongue darted out again. When he looked into her intense, desire-filled eyes, he knew he was a goner.
“Jane,” he practically groaned her name. His heart pounded wildly, which seemed impossible as all his blood still loitered below his waist.
Not speaking, her hungry gaze lowered to his mouth. She slipped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, sensitizing each strand to her. Every warning he’d ever heard sounded loud and clear as her body melted into his, as she pressed her lips to his.
Her lips were gentle, her touch tentative, testing, tasting. Fire spread through him. Hot, raging fire that consumed everything in its path.
Pull away, his mind ordered. Kiss her, everything else demanded.
A million reasons why he should stop her raced through his mind. None of them capable of making him push her away. He stood frozen in time unable to react one way or the other to the temptation she presented.
“Rob,” she pleaded when he remained unyielding, barely managing control of his body’s action. “Please kiss me.”
The vulnerability, the raw need in her voice, a need that matched his own, gave him no choice. He had to kiss her, taste her feminine pureness like spring’s first dewdrop on the softest rose petal. Her beauty outshined every bloom in the well-tended garden. Her scent sweeter than the most fragrant blossom.
He ran his hands over her ribcage, and pushed against her lower back, pressing her fully to his aroused body. No longer caring if she knew how much he wanted her, his mouth covered hers.
He’d been right. She was meeting him touch for touch and her tight bottom fit perfectly in his hands.
A sheen of sweat covered his body that had nothing to do with the miles he’d jogged this morning.
Sweet heavens above.
She moved her hips, grinding her body against his hard midsection. Blinding heat flooded him. He wanted more. On cue her mouth opened. The need to plunge into her sugary depths, to discover what she so generously offered, threatened to bring him to his knees.
But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t even be kissing her.
Where had they placed those cameras in the gardens? Damn, he couldn’t remember. Anyone who happened to be in the studio early this morning could be watching them.
JP would kill him if he got wind of this.
“We’ve got to stop.” He pulled back, but was trapped by her arms.
“Why?” Her eyes held confusion amongst desire so hot he longed to say to hell with the cameras and take everything she’d give him, right here and now in the garden.
“This isn’t right.”
“It feels right.” She touched her lips to his and proved her point.
His gaze fell on the soft green grass of the grounds just a few feet away. He could lower her there and--no, he couldn’t. They had to stop.
“Well, it isn’t.” Even to his own ears he sounded lame. “You don’t need to be out here alone before the sun’s up.”
Her chin jutted forward. “I can take care of myself.”
“Don’t be out here alone. I won’t chance something happening to you and not being able to finish shooting Jane Millionaire.” He tried to step back, but she prevented him by tightening her hold.
She averted her gaze for a moment to stare off in the distance before returning her attention to him. “Why are you pretending you don’t feel anything for me?”
She had every right to ask after the way he’d just kissed her. He had to stop this, now, before things got any more out of control. Before he didn’t care that he would be ruining his friend’s career, risking his own, and losing out on his dream for GAMBLER. No woman was worth those risks, he reminded himself. The sexy one in front of him included.
He didn’t want to hurt her, but it was the only way. If she hated him, maybe she’d focus on one of the bachelors. She had to, and he had to make it happen.
His harshness in the exercise room hadn’t been enough.
He mentally cringed at what he was going to do. His heart begged him to forget taking that next step with his career and to explore his emotions for this woman.
And maybe if that’s all that was at stake, he’d risk it.
Instead, he met her gaze without wavering and said words he knew would kill any feelings she had for him.
