by Nana Malone
Asha recognized him immediately from the team. Jethro Perkins. Defensive Lineman.
Dax rolled his eyes. “We’re working Perkins.”
“I’ll bet you are. When you’re done, send her over my way. You know I love a little spicy Latina.”
“Perkins, you’re an asshole. This is Asha Wix. She works for the team.”
Perkins frowned. “Wix isn’t a Latin name?”
Asha spoke through clenched teeth. She was not in the mood to play the game of ‘what are you?’ right now. “Perkins, if you don't mind, I’d love to finish my meeting with Dax. And no, I’m not Latin. I’m Persian.”
Perkins eyes went wide. “Oh snap. Princess Jasmine. I get it. You got the whole outfit and everything at home? Or is that part of your act?”
Asha wasn’t a violent person, but her hand twitched with the urge to smack him. First, did he really have no idea how ignorant he sounded? Second, the way he was talking, it sounded like he thought she was a —she whipped her attention toward Dax. “Does he think I’m a hooker?”
Perkin’s dark blond brows lifted. “You mean you're not a hooker?”
Dax stood. “Okay, we’re done here. First you owe Asha an apology for being an asshole.”
“Fuck, man. I didn’t mean anything by it. How was I supposed to know she wasn’t a pro? Half the girls in the VIP room are. Or at least strippers.”
Dax gripped Perkins’ shoulder tightly, and the other man winced. “Just say the words, ‘I’m sorry I was a dickhead. I’m going to my own table now.’”
Perkins muttered the words before slinking off. Asha blinked up at Dax. “You didn’t need to do that. I can handle myself. I did grow up with Damon as a brother.”
“I know.” His voice was back to level. “But he was all kinds of out of line.” Dax watched her closely. She knew he'd taken in her full appearance at the door, but now he studied her face intently.
She cleared her throat. "So, I thought we could start with discussing your current image," Asha said, diving right in.
He sat back, lounging in his chair. "Okay. What about it?"
"How exactly would you describe it?" She leaned forward, propping her head into her palm. Dax's gaze flickered down toward her chest, then back to her face quickly.
"Does it matter what I think?" he evaded deftly.
Uh-uh, you don't get to hide from me. "It matters to me. I want to know how much thought you’ve put into how you present yourself to people, and why you choose to give people this particular impression."
His brows furrowed deeper. "Aren't you supposed to just tell me what to do?" He shifted in his seat, his gaze flickering uncomfortably around the room.
Asha reached across the table, selected an olive from the tiny bowl, and popped it into her mouth. After chewing thoughtfully for a moment, she said, "I can try telling you what to do, I'm bossy by nature. But I was watching your practice today, and I've seen footage from practices with Coach Moore. I know that telling you what to do and you actually doing it are worlds apart." She shrugged. "So I figured I'd ask if you like your current image, or if you want to change it."
Dax laughed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Okay. What's my current image? I guess… Legacy kid. Runs in the family… lazy, playboy, partier. I like to have a good time, which I can do because I'm a Coulter. Football's in my blood. I sometimes live up to the hype, but most of the time…I'm a disappointment. But, hey, I've gotta be something, right? And my sibs, Bryce and Echo, already have their little niches so, why not make screwup mine?" He shrugged, averting his gaze as he spoke. But he didn't look away fast enough.
She could see a familiar flash of pain in his eyes, along with a desire to keep it private. Swallowing uncomfortably, Asha sidestepped. They'd have plenty of time for the dark and uglies. "So, what would you like for your image to be?"
Dax rolled his eyes, but was saved from having to answer by the appearance of the waiter with their drinks and Dax's order of stuffed mushroom caps.
Popping one in his mouth and signaling for Asha to help herself, he spoke around the food. "I want my image to be whatever the organization wants it to be. I'm a team player. Or at least I will be, once you beat me into submission. Tell me what to do, and I'll do my best."
"Yeah, that doesn't really seem to jive with what I've seen," she laughed wryly.
"Well then, I suppose it's your job to figure out a way to motivate me to change." His tone was half question, half challenge. "Unless, of course, the guys upstairs decide I'm more marketable in my current state. Everyone loves watching a train wreck." The grin he gave her was salacious, but there was something behind his eyes. As if he were reading from the pre-approved bad-boy script.
"I suppose I have my work cut out for me, then." Asha took a long sip from her water.
Suddenly, someone banged on the Plexiglas wall to her left and she jumped, splashing her water all down her front. Shit. Dax turned to acknowledge the fans that had found him, giving a little wave and thumbs up as they pulled out their phones to snap a few pictures.
There were some muffled shouts, a lewd offer from a blond girl with a laughing group of friends, and some shouted questions about just what he and Asha were planning on doing to each other that night.
Asha flushed. Dax just shook his head, as if he was used to all this. It didn't even faze him. She patted her dress with a handful of napkins. After a moment, Dax met her gaze and did an excellent job of keeping his eyes on her face.
"This, right here, would be a good place to start thinking about doing things differently," she said.
Clearing his throat, he looked away again, and shifted in his seat. "You don't have to worry about them taking pictures," he told her, offering her his own napkin. "The windows here are notoriously bad for using a flash. Anything they get will be blurry as hell. Just enough to use to tell a story at a party, but nothing they could turn around and sell, or anything."
Asha stopped wiping her dress when the group moved back out to the dance floor, and Dax's attention had turned back to her.
"That wasn't what I meant," she explained. "If you're going to come out to a place like this and be seen, that's fine, but you want to control the way that you're seen."
"I can't control where and when people take pictures of me if I'm in public. And I can't be bothered with policing things when someone gets a shot I don't like."
"You can't control others but you can control yourself," Asha pointed out. "You can control what you do. For example, the topless dancer in Miami, the naked photo shoot with the model, the drunken antics."
He rolled his eyes. "In other words, don't do anything stupid, don't have fun," he muttered. "Here's the part that you don't understand. All I'm doing is just sitting here with a beautiful woman, but everyone has already made a million assumptions."
She ignored the fluttering in her belly. Stupid butterflies. So what if he thought she was beautiful? Getting through to him was going to be harder than she thought. "I would suggest you exercise discretion based on the nature of the environment you put yourself in," Asha continued, trying for politeness. "If you're in a public setting that's as crowded as you say this place gets on the weekend, maybe don't get so wasted you can't remember your own name. Or try not to shout lewd things to security and almost start a riot."
"Oh, I never forget my name, sweetheart. The girl I'm with, sure. But I have Coulter practically tattooed on my soul," Dax muttered darkly. "It's my ticket to everything."
Asha had to close her eyes to keep from laughing. "I think you know what I mean."
He nodded. "I'll keep it in mind."
Maybe a different tactic. They had to get on the same page. Both of their careers depended on it. "How are you liking your new coaches?"
"Oh, no." He shook his head. "It's my turn for questions," he countered and started rapidly firing them off. "Why Jacksonville? Are you liking the job so far? And are there any guys on the team who need a talking-to about how they're treating you?" He fr
owned when he asked that last question.
"Okay, that's way more than I asked you, and mine were for work," she argued, reaching for her empty glass of water and frowning. Dax pushed his water glass over for her to take and went back to drinking his beer.
"I promised Damon I'd check on you," he reminded her.
"And my brother isn't in charge of me. If he has questions, he can ask me himself," she snapped.
"Oh," Dax chuckled as he sat forward. "Now that's a feeling I recognize. Don't care much for family oversight? Well, welcome to my world."
She wasn't talking about her family. Not with him. "Tell Damon that I'm not discussing my personal life or anything like that, just so you can turn around and tattle on me to him. And I can handle your teammates and whatever comments they might have without you interfering," she lectured.
He laughed. "I guess you can. That's what HR is for, right?"
She didn't laugh. "I think we've done enough work for tonight. Keep what I said in mind, please. It's not just your neck on the line anymore when it comes to your behavior. And if you don't think more about how you come across to the public for your own sake, I will take a more hands-on approach."
His brows drew up. "I like the sound of that," he leaned forward. His voice low, he whispered, "Just how hands-on do you plan on getting, Asha?"
What was supposed to happen was, she'd raise a brow and pour her drink on him. Something. Something other than flushing deep and feeling her belly pull with need. Oh, hell no.
She stood from the table and grabbed her purse. She needed to do something about this response to him. She'd never considered herself particularly sexual. But around Dax, she was all too aware of…everything. His scent, how he moved, her body—and how it acted in response to him.
"Sorry," Dax said, reaching out and grabbing her wrist, loosening his grip when she glared at him. "Sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry. I just… It's sort of automatic. I just turn into an asshole sometimes. I'm sorry. But you will let me know if there's anything you need, right? If there's anything you don't want getting back to Damon…I won't say anything. Just… You should have someone you can come to if you need something, and I did promise Damon, so…I'm here, or whatever. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but I promise you can count on me. "
Her breath caught in her chest. He was being sincere. She could tell by the slight flush on his skin. And his eyes. The startling clarity of those cerulean irises. The words were clearly difficult for him to say, but he did mean them.
She licked her lips, trying not to focus on the way his thumb stroked her wrist. Or, the way her pulse jumped under his touch. "Thank you." She licked her lips again. "And, uh… If you need anything, a ride or…whatever, you can always ask me. I mean…it's my job."
He nodded slowly, but his hand still loosely held hers. Driving her slowly mad. "Will do. Thanks for coming out. I guess you were right. We didn't have to do anything this… flashy."
The awkwardness stretched between them until Asha couldn't stand it anymore.
"Well, goodnight then. I'll see you around at work, I'm sure."
"I'll walk you out and get you a car out the back."
"That's not necessary. I'll be—"
He shook his head, cutting her off. "You were seen with me out front. The paparazzi will be waiting."
"Okay. Well, thank you."
Dax ushered Asha to the back of the bar. As they shuffled through the crowd, the only thing she could feel was the warm press of his hand on her back as he guided her. Currents of electricity spread from that spot on her back to the rest of her body.
Holy hell, this was all kinds of inconvenient. Inconvenient is an understatement, honey. Her body was responding to him in a way that she'd never felt before, and it was more than inconvenient. More like a disaster. She'd felt the pull of attraction earlier today, and naïvely, she thought she'd be able to ignore it. Shove it under the rug. No such luck.
Dax was a professional athlete. That meant he went through women like Kleenex. And an uptight virgin was not going to get his attention for very long. Not like she'd intended to still be a virgin at twenty.
Okay, so maybe she hadn't really done anything about that fact, either. She figured it would happen someday. But someday got replaced with studying, and doing everything in her power to gain her father's love. She hadn't really had time for boys.
Oh, and her brother was Damon Wix, so most guys avoided her, for fear he'd annihilate them.
At the back door, Dax spoke to one of the security guards, who then nodded and went outside.
"They'll get you a cab, and let you know when it's here."
She blinked up at him and cleared her throat. "Thank you. You didn't have to do the knight-in-shining-armor thing, but it's appreciated."
"Well, you were my dat—uh, meeting, person, thing, so…uh…" He sighed. "You came with me, so I'm making sure you get home safe. Look at me being the good guy."
And just as soon as the sincerity was there, it was quickly driven out. Not to worry; now that she knew it was there, lurking under the surface, she knew she could get it back.
Luckily, the hallway wasn't as crowded as the VIP area or the main club, but a mix of busboys, security, and wait staff ran back and forth at a quick clip. One of them bumped her, shoving her into Dax's big body. Thanks to his quick reflexes, he steadied her in an instant, only for her to realize that her body was pressed against his like a plaster mold.
Dax stared down at her, his eyes going darker. More focused. His lips parted, and Asha couldn't control the wild swing of her erratic heartbeat. Low in her belly, something hot and slick pulled at her, making her want…things. Things with him. Things she had no business wanting. Her nipples pebbled to hard peaks against his chest, as she fought for breath.
Luckily, she wasn't the only one affected. Even as his pupils dilated, his breath came out in choppy spurts. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, rough. "Asha—" It was part question, part, I'm going to do very dirty things to you. Or, maybe that was just in her head.
He leaned his head down, and for a moment, Asha dared to breathe, dared to hope—
"Hey, Coulter, got that cab for you."
In a flash, Dax set her away from him, and Asha's head swam as she tried to focus. He licked his lips and took a very deliberate step back. "Let's get you safely in a cab, yeah?"
Even as he shut the cab door behind her, Asha couldn't help but wonder, what the fuck had just happened?
Dax's legs shook as he stumbled back to his table. What. The. Fuck? Whatever the hell that was with Asha, he was pretty sure it wasn't what Damon was looking for. Shit, all she did was breathe on his neck, and he'd gone rigid. Oh, and newsflash, he was still fucking hard. The whisper of his name on her lips… That was like an invitation to dream up all the ways he could make her say it.
He needed to clear his head. Asha Wix was not at all what he'd expected. All prim one moment, walking sex appeal the next. He needed to get laid, and quick. The sooner he forgot her, the better. It had been a hell of a day. Her appearance that morning, and then the new coaches in the afternoon. They were just more disruptive changes to what little routine had already been established in the weeks of training camp, preseason games, and finally, the first two weeks of regular season games.
Asha's about-face though—it could give him a second chance, maybe. It wasn't that he wanted to be the fuckup. It was just his role. And, like a moron, he'd slipped into it with her. Had he really hit on Damon's sister? You. Are. An. Asshole. Well, someone needed to tell him some shit he didn't already know. It didn't matter that his dick had been as hard as steel since meeting her that morning. He wasn't going there. Besides, he had a feeling she had a type, and football player wasn't it.
Maybe she could do what he couldn't on his own. He wanted the acknowledgment that he was good enough for the endorsements on his own. She could help. But first, he needed to stop being a dick—and a horny dick, at that.
He could still feel the e
ffects of Asha's mesmerizing gaze. The determination and strength in her eyes were disconcerting. She was tough, but also not judgmental like most people. She didn't back down, either. And when her body had been flush against his, her beautiful, dark eyes had shifted from tempered to melted chocolate, warm and inviting. He could fall into those depths… Except, he wouldn't.
Because…Damon's sister. So, there was that. His best friend trusted him. And even Dax wasn't that much of a fuckup.
The blonde from earlier was back in front of him before he could notice her approach and take evasive measures. He didn't want to talk to fans tonight, especially not groupie fans. Besides, she wasn't the woman on his mind.
"My ex was a huge fan of yours," she shouted near his ear.
Dax nodded politely and paid his tab. He wasn't feeling this anymore. He hadn't really wanted to go out in the first place. He'd sort of just wanted the opportunity to make Asha squirm.
"My offer still stands," she continued with a suggestive wink, before moving off toward the side of the dance floor, where the corridor with the bathrooms stood.
He didn't want her. But Asha was in no way available. And he had a hell of a hard-on. Maybe this was what he needed to get her out of his head. The asshole on his shoulder stretched. He switched off his thinking brain and crossed the floor to follow the blonde, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was paying attention.
The guilt that surfaced was unfamiliar. He didn't want to go do something stupid after the conversation he and Asha had just had. But this isn't stupid. You're releasing the tension. It's just a workout.
Guilt churned in his belly. The blonde turned and nuzzled his neck. His mind offered up an image of Asha doing the same.
It wasn't really a betrayal of Damon's trust if all he did was think about Asha, right? Acting on it with Asha, making a move on her, that was where the line was… Or at least, that's what he told himself as he followed the blond woman into the handicapped stall and let her push him up against the wall, the metal handrail catching him at the base of his spine. This is stupid. The Dax he could be spoke from somewhere inside. The Dax he was shoved the better version into a darkened closet.
