by Nana Malone
The blonde in front of him had a fiery determination that alcohol had fanned into a full-blown blaze. She knelt and worked to unfasten the buckle of his belt.
"So, you're getting back at your ex," Dax muttered, as he braced his hands on the support bar. The blond stranger had worked his pants and boxers down his thighs far enough to expose his erection. Which oddly, had started to subside. She began to stroke him. But shit, the more she touched him, the worse it got.
"He went and fucked my friend. So I'm going to ruin you for him," she said. Dax squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate. He wasn't getting harder. Shit. Why was this happening?
"Easy there," he grunted. "Just…give me a sec."
Oh, God. He couldn't get it up? Him?
The blonde, with her tits pushed up to her chin and her skirt so tight he could tell the pattern of her underwear, was having the exact opposite effect he wanted. He'd always gone for the easy lay. The easy way out. Now what? He wanted prim and proper? Though, Asha'd hardly been that tonight. Fuck. He leaned his head back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, and tried not to notice when his hair caught on something sticky.
He tried to focus on anything but the blonde. Jen. Jen was safe, but his brain wouldn't conjure her image.
A sudden, frustrated squeeze from the blonde startled him back to the image of Asha as she walked away in that fitted fuchsia dress.
And what do you know? That did the trick. His cock stirred back to life, and the blonde made some small noise to celebrate her victory before she took a solid hold of him and bent her head to take him into her mouth.
Dax poured all his focus on the sensations triggered by her tongue, her teeth, the warm slide of her mouth. And then he tripped over the no-go line. Picturing Asha's dark locks over her shoulder as she licked the length of him. Gently teasing the head of his dick. The thoughts of her full lips moving over his stiff length. Her wrist had been so soft. Was she that soft everywhere? Her neck, her belly, her inner thighs? The longing to touch her, to know what the pressure of her hand in his felt like, to brush a hand across the soft waves of her dark hair.
Suddenly, the blonde changed her technique.
"Easy, easy," he grunted, taking a firmer hold of her sticky, hairsprayed locks to slow her down. "Take your time. No rush."
She slowed, and he loosened his grip on her head to take hold of the railing again. Her hair either had too much product in it, or it had been dyed too many times. It was brittle to the touch.
He wanted soft strands, and went back to imagining the texture of Asha's hair, thick and loose around her shoulders, the way she brushed it out of her face so she could keep him fixed in her sights.
Picturing her hair brushing his thighs as she sucked him was enough to take him over the edge.
Locked in the fantasy of Asha, her silken hair and her hot mouth, tingling started in the base of his spine. He imagined Asha smiling playfully at him, as he slid a hand up her silky thigh, pushing the fabric of that fuchsia dress up along with it.
The smile she gave him sent him into free-fall. As waves of pleasure washed over him, he knew two things were certain. First, he was an asshole. Second, Asha Wix was going to be a problem for him. Dax rested his head against the wall, his eyes focused on the ceiling instead of anywhere near the blonde kneeling in front of him. He knew, bone-deep, that as much as he might be tempted by Asha Wix—she was off-limits.
Eight
Asha fought to focus through Monday morning's staff meeting.
"Considering the changes made to the coaching staff, and the limited time the boys have had to adjust, I think we played pretty damn well. But we still lost," Adams rattled on. "And while it's going to take some time to evaluate the long-term impact of these changes, we need to do everything we can to bring attendance and ticket sales back up. People see a full stadium, and they know it's somewhere they want to be. Folks leaving halfway through the game, they figure why bother shelling out that kind of dough to be disappointed. We're lucky at the moment," he continued, pacing at the front of the group, "because we're heading into a stretch of road games. We won't be back here for close to a month, and that gives us some time to change people's minds. To get them reinvested in our team and our prospects. Even if they lose, we want them to support us, and to want to support us, no matter what."
There were nods of agreement around the room, accompanied by looks of hesitant anticipation.
"For this upcoming road trip, you're going to be traveling with the team." The announcement was met with a number of poorly contained sighs and other sounds of displeasure, but Adams pressed on. "We don't want the connections you're building with the players to fall apart because you're not going to be able to see them regularly over the next four weeks," he explained. "If there are concerns that arise, I want you there to handle them personally. That way if anything happens, we have a better shot at controlling the story."
Adams' gaze lingered on Asha. She knew that Dax was one of the most likely candidates when it came to causing trouble on the road. Of course, she would have the problem child. Mr. Sexy-as-Sin was the reason she hadn't been able to sleep all weekend.
She only had to do a quick search of his college football career online to find photos of him doing keg-stands and other ridiculous antics with some of his teammates. So many photos. Something about being at home appeared to be sacred to him, while traveling seemed to give him the uncontrollable impulse to make his presence felt.
Though it's probably just practicality, she thought as Adams continued with his lecture about expectations for their coming travels. Can't make a nuisance of yourself at home, or you won't have anywhere left to go.
While many of her colleagues were disappointed or annoyed by the prospect of traveling for the job, Asha found it exciting. Of course, she didn't have anyone waiting at home while she traipsed off to essentially babysit a grown-ass man.
She dragged her attention back to the meeting. Or tried to. She'd be attached at the hip to Dax for weeks. That meant weeks of him potentially touching her wrist. Who knew the wrist was an erogenous zone? She sure as hell hadn't. She couldn't even put on perfume this morning without thinking of him. Or the pain in his eyes as he apologized. Or worse, the way his arms had snapped around her. The stark hunger on his face. The press and throb of his erection against her belly. Oh, man. She was so totally screwed.
There goes rule number three.
"Anyone late for practice will be benched for the first drive of the game—offense or defense, it doesn't matter," Coach Mills informed the players. His eyes found Dax in the gathered players. Dax barely concealed his smirk; his reputation from his college days wasn't going to be forgotten anytime soon. "I want to know where you all are at all times," Mills continued. "That doesn't mean carrying your phone around and making sure it's charged so I can get ahold of you if I need to. It means I want you to check in before you go anywhere. Don't text or leave a message and hope I get it; if you don't receive confirmation or permission, you stay put. If you can't follow instructions off the field, I'm going to assume you can't follow them on the field, either. Understood?"
No one was going to enthusiastically cheer for such strict measures, but it appeared Coach Mills took their silence as agreement and continued. "Lastly, the bosses upstairs are really pushing this PR arrangement hard. Your shadows are coming with us. Lucky you. They will be going with you just about everywhere, not only to keep an eye on you, but to also 'get to know you better'. If you want this thing to go away, you have to convince the bosses that it isn't necessary, not go out of your way to screw it up as a way of showing them that it isn't going to work. If you show them you can handle yourselves, that you know how grown men should behave and act accordingly, maybe they'll call off their watchdogs and let us all get back to the business of playing football. How does that sound?"
There was a bit more enthusiasm from the players this time around, and they muttered their agreement to the prospect of getting rid of thei
r PR buddies.
Dax remained silent. It was possible he was the only one who didn't really mind having a shadow. He'd stopped being such an ass once he and Asha'd found some common ground. Or maybe more truthfully, once he started to remember that Damon was his friend and had asked for a favor. Yeah, he couldn't get her out of his head. His shower activities were evidence of that. But, she was smart and knew her football. She was also surprisingly funny. Go figure. Once they were able to relax a bit, they actually were able to talk and shit. Just as long as he didn't think about her touching him while he was with her. Then it was more difficult to…just talk.
She was also some kind of sports trivia nut. Her knowledge was incredible and went deeper than just the Coulter family…or even football in general.
He wasn't sure how he felt about having her along for the upcoming road trip, though. He didn't mind, exactly. He liked her. The problem was, he just liked her a little too much.
Their next game was against San Diego, which meant he'd be playing at home. The calls and voicemails had already started rolling in. Will you come for dinner while you're here? We need to get together to go over details for the wedding. Gramps has box seats so we'll be at the game.
Then, the most important thing to consider… Would he have to bring Asha along? He wasn't sure how she'd handle meeting his family. Or having to explain to them the hows and whys of that particular work situation. He could already hear the jokes about him needing a babysitter, and everyone offering her tips on how to get him to do things, or worse, asking for tips on how she managed him.
Yeah, Asha and his family, not okay. Besides, he didn't want anyone else around to witness the black sheep slaps. He could do without having an audience there. Except, on the other hand, maybe if she was there, they'd back off. Give him some breathing room. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea, after all. He just had to keep from touching her. How hard could that be?
In the end, it was much easier than Dax expected.
"Is Wix joining you?" Coach Mills had asked when Dax approached him at the end of practice with his request.
"I already spoke with her about it," Dax explained.
"Fine. Just be back at your hotel by ten. Practice starts at nine tomorrow morning."
"Yes, sir," Dax nodded before heading to take off his pads and hit the showers.
Inside the locker room, a few of his teammates were grumbling about the curfew and figuring out what to do to fill their free time. They still had another day of practice before the game, and some had been looking to spend the night out on the town, not the afternoon. Most of them were running into resistance from their PR shadows. Granted, this was San Diego, and bikini-clad women were everywhere. So there were plenty of opportunities to get into trouble.
"My guy is paired up with three of us," Thomlinson was whispering to Samuels. "He can't be in three places at once. What're we supposed to do with that?"
Mitchell elbowed Dax. "What about you? You taking your PR chick out? Or d'you think having her around'll scare off the others? I've never met someone so uptight." He laughed, and a few of the guys who overheard laughed and chuckled, too.
"Oh, I don't get to have fun." Dax clutched a hand to his chest in mock horror. "I've gotta head out to my parents' place for a family thing. And yes, she has to come with me." He didn't like the way they talked about her. Shut it. That was you a week ago.
"Introducing her to the folks, huh?" Thomlinson chuckled. "Sounds pretty serious to me."
The last place he'd take anyone he wanted to keep would be to that firing squad. "Any woman I chose to get serious with, I'd keep as far away from that crew as possible," Dax said with a laugh. "Seriously, though, my brother's getting married in a few weeks, so it'll probably be wedding stuff the whole time. Not fun."
"What about the rest of us?" Samuels asked. "When do we get to meet the family?"
"After Sunday's game, probably," he muttered. Despite the fact that all of them were actually playing football professionally, they were still awed by his family. Normally they treated him like any other player, but it was moments like this. Times when he saw the eagerness behind the joking, that reminded Dax that when it came to his pedigree, they all looked at him differently. "Heading out. Gotta find my shadow before we can leave for the 'burbs." He moved quickly out of the group and headed for the door.
Asha was waiting outside his hotel room, ready to go, when he arrived to drop off his bag and change.
"You're wearing that?" he couldn't help asking, leaving the door open for her to follow him in so she didn't have to stand in the hallway while he finished getting ready.
She frowned and looked down at her grey pencil skirt and royal-blue satin blouse.
"You look like you're interviewing for a job," he said as he pulled things out of the suitcase he'd packed.
"Well…I wasn't sure how formal this dinner thing would be, and I didn't want to be underdressed," Asha stammered as she smoothed the fabric of her skirt. "Besides, I technically am working."
What he didn't say, was that the prim getup gave him naughty-teacher fantasies. Not. Helpful.
Dax took a pair of khakis and a loose button-up shirt to the bathroom to change, calling over his shoulder to Asha. "Yeah, I'm not going to be telling them that part of it."
Asha was waiting for him with a furrowed brow, her arms crossed over her more than ample chest when he emerged again. "Please tell me you weren't going to tell them we're dating or anything."
He laughed, even as something burned in his gut. "No, though it might be worth it to see the looks on some of their faces," he said, laughing again. "They'd never believe it."
"So then, what are you going to tell them?"
"The truth, insomuch as it applies. You're Damon's little sister." As he bent over at the edge of the bed to put on his shoes, he just barely caught the way her jaw clenched and eyes rolled when he said that. "You're working with the team now and got sent along on this road trip. That I thought you might like getting away from it for a while, and didn't want to be on your own. Something along those lines."
Asha's brows rose. "I think I might be rubbing off on you," she mused. "You've at least picked up a bit about how to frame a situation for your audience."
He laughed. "You didn't teach me that," he told her. "Years of living with my family taught me that."
"So we'll see how much of it is my doing when it comes to your handling of the public, then." Asha shrugged as she reached into her purse for the keys to her rental car.
"Mind if I drive?" Dax offered, holding his hand out to take the keys. "I do know where I'm going better than you do."
"You drive out, I'll drive back," she insisted. "From how you talk about your family, I'm guessing you'll be drinking while you're there."
"Aw, you're getting to know me deep down," he said with a sarcastic grin, and was rewarded with her smile. For several frozen beats he simply stared. What the hell was this girl doing to him?
Nine
"And how is your brother liking New England?" Brent Coulter asked, as he ushered Dax and Asha into the sitting room, where his wife offered them drinks.
"He seems to like it. Damon has never been one for the cold. He's like my mom. We grew up in Hawaii. So we'll see how he does,” Asha told him as she accepted a glass of iced tea from Julia. "It's a bit intense and there's a lot of pressure, but he responds well to that. I know he misses blocking for Dax," she said, turning to him and trying to pass the conversation onto him.
"I think I met your brother once or twice. Obviously, I'm familiar with your father and his work with the league." Rory Coulter jumped in, from his spot on an overstuffed loveseat. His wife sat beside him, sipping a cocktail. "Not the least bit surprised when New England snapped him up. Wish the Steelers had had the sense to do it first," he laughed.
Next to her, Dax stiffened, but he kept his mouth shut.
"What exactly is it you do with the Thrashers then, Ashley?" Julia asked, as she brought a beer to Dax.
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"It's Asha," she corrected.
"I'm so sorry about that, dear. Ethnic names aren't my specialty. It's a beautiful name."
Dax exhaled slowly.
Asha knew this wasn’t a fight worth picking. "Don't worry," she reassured the older woman. "You're not the first to call me that, and you won't be the last." Unfortunately. Hell, she looked straight-up Persian. No one would ever guess her father was white. Breathe deep. It's only for a couple of hours.
"Won't be the last what?" Echo asked as she breezed into the room, stopping at her father's chair to give him a quick half hug then pouncing on her mother with a peck on the cheek. She ended up at the bar in the corner, where she started fixing her own rum and cola.
"Asha, this is my twin sister, Echo," Dax said.
"Oh, so this is Asha," Echo said with a teasing glance to Dax, who rolled his eyes. "It's very nice to finally meet you. Dax has not been forthcoming with any details about you."
"Uh, nice to meet you, too." This was Dax's twin? They looked nothing alike.
"Yes, this is Asha. Damon's sister." His tone was mocking to match Echo's. Then he quickly changed the subject. "Where're Bryce and Tami?"
"They should be here soon, but they'll probably have to cut out as soon as dinner's over. They have to go meet with the manager at the country club to iron out some of the arrangements," Echo said, clapping gleefully. "Only six weeks to go."
"Our oldest son and his fiancée are getting married in November," Julia said for Asha's benefit. "They just won their first US Open title for mixed doubles."
Asha nodded with polite interest, though anyone who paid even the slightest bit of attention to the sports news cycle was well aware of both those facts.
"What about Fox and Gage?" Dax asked.
"Gage is working on his college applications." His father said.
