Level Up

by Hadley Quinn

  Level Up

  A romantic suspense by

  Hadley Quinn

  Copyright © 2014 by Hadley Quinn

  The characters and events portrayed in this work are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable materials.

  Content Warning: This book is not intended for readers under the age of 18, due to sex and language. Some war-related content may be disturbing to sensitive readers.

  “A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history.”

  ~Mahatma Gandhi

  CHAPTER ONE

  Could there be a finer creation? The artist in her wanted to examine every bit she could. She wanted to put her hands all over him and spend hours in exploration. She felt if she could just be granted the chance—

  “Good God, Ava,” Chelsea hissed. “Stop staring.”

  Ava looked across the restaurant again. He hadn’t noticed. Of course not, why would he? She’d been ogling Adam Houston for almost a year now.

  From a distance, of course.

  Lean, defined, and athletic didn’t even describe him. He was hands down the most perfect male she had ever set eyes on.

  “I’m quick on my feet,” Ava protested weakly. “I know when to look away.”

  Chelsea grunted. “If you were quick on your feet you’d be over there talking to him instead of having sex with him in your mind.”

  She gave an embarrassed chuckle. “I—”

  The syllable shouldn’t have been wasted. Denying it would only give Chelsea another opportunity to remind her of how awkward she’d feel if he ever did speak to her.

  “Well,” Ava began instead. “When the world comes to an end and we are the only male and female left on earth, I’ll have a chance.”

  Chelsea smiled but with complaint. “Hey, what about me? Your damn dream of being sole survivors with Adam cancels me out?”

  “Sorry, love. Has to be done.”

  Chelsea shrugged indifferently. “Oh well. You just won’t realize at the time that I’m on the other side of the world in Italy, with Trent Danner.”

  Ava chuckled to be polite, but didn’t see the good sense in it. Trent was a total asshole. If egotistical jerks had their own colony, Trent would be king.

  “You can do better,” was all Ava said as she sipped her Coke.

  “Better? You say that, but how would you know? You’ve never talked to him. Or spent time around him. He’s funny as hell and hey, I like to laugh.”

  Ava reluctantly nodded her agreement. “Yeah, I’ll give him that. I just… You know how I feel.”

  “You’re on your soap box, Ava.”

  “Am I?” she asked with a bit of irritation. “Or do I just know how a girl should be treated.”

  “Know? Or dream for your own sake,” Chelsea added knowingly. Then she patted her hand just as quickly. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I just…”

  “I know. I’m screwed up.”

  “You’re not screwed up,” she laughed. “Everyone just has their own idea of love and romance. If a guy was all sappy and sweet and girly with me, I would throw up.”

  “I don’t want sappy. Or what? –Girly?” Ava scoffed. “Not that either. But…I would take sweet. Yeah, that’d be a good trait.”

  They both glanced at Adam again, who was with three other guys laughing their asses off near the bar. Finally Chelsea said, “Well, you say that Trent is a dick. I say that Adam isn’t as bad, but he could be put in his place now and then. They’re only human. They both need a woman who will help shape and mold them.”

  Ava didn’t respond because she was considering it. Then she nodded and said, “Sure. I can see that I guess. But so could I. I mean we all have things about us that could be changed for the right person. In fact, I have a long list of things that I would change for Adam.”

  That last part was not meant to be said out loud, but it was too late. Chelsea was studying her carefully before she glanced at Adam and his friends, and then back at Ava again.

  “Like what?” she asked slowly.

  Ava sighed and then took another sip of her drink. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

  “You do too know!” Chelsea exclaimed, a little too loudly because both Trent and Adam looked their way. “Casual smile right now, Ava,” she ordered with a whisper.

  So Ava did. She smiled. And Adam smiled back.

  “Eyes on me now,” Chelsea directed, so Ava looked at her again. “Just take another drink and keep listening to me.” Ava obediently took another sip as she asked, “What is on your list, babe?”

  “Oh come on, Chelse, I was just being dramatic.”

  “Oh no,” she wagged a finger. “I know you. I know you and your damn lists, honey. I know you made one, so just tell me. Come on, Aves. I won’t tell a soul, you know that.” Her diamond blue eyes were dancing, anticipating something big.

  “I know you won’t,” she agreed, even though she didn’t actually believe it. Chelsea meant well, but Ava really didn’t want anything to slip during one of her friend’s less-than-sober moments in the future. “I just feel like there are things I’d like to improve with myself on a general basis. Nothing big,” she shrugged.

  I am such a liar, Ava thought. She wouldn’t say that “make Adam Houston fall madly in love with me” constituted as a small change. And “learn how to golf” wouldn’t exactly be a small feat either.

  “Well good, because you don’t need to change for a guy,” Chelsea counseled generically. “Just be yourself.”

  Ava refrained from rolling her eyes. She felt as invisible to Adam as the air sometimes. Not feeling attractive wasn’t her hang up. She rather liked her long honey-colored hair and dark teal eyes. Ava Carmichael had lovely skin, long legs, and the perfect amount of curves. No, her looks were not the problem. Ava’s problem was finding a guy that was intriguing enough to capture her attention, and fabulous enough to not disappoint her. She didn’t exactly have a “type,” but if she could find a guy that made her heart soar, she’d look into it. She was still waiting for that heart-pounding excitement from just looking at a guy; the undeniable feeling that he can make your insides turn to mush with only a smile.

  She subtly looked over at Adam again. He was smart, gorgeous, and talented in a lot of things—someone that your parents would be proud of you for dating. But even though that was just the bonus aspect of dating a Houston—anything to keep her mother off her back—that wasn’t why he interested her. Adam just seemed like a nice guy and nothing like the crowd of college guys he hung out with. She felt he was someone she could easily fall in love with, given the chance.

  The girls finished up dinner, paid the check, and headed for the exit. Chelsea made it a point to go the roundabout way, and they ended up passing Trent and Adam’s table of four guys.

  “Behave, boys,” she told them. “Especially you, Danner,” she added, nudging Trent’s shoulder with her hand.

  “Never,” he grinned, his prowling eyes excited by the opportunity to hit on someone. The girls walked away but they heard him add, “And you have a nice ass, Chelsea.”

  Ava rolled her eyes, but she wondered how she’d have felt if that was Adam telling her that. She might have turned three shades
of red, but she was sure she’d have liked it. Maybe not in a public setting like that, but privately would be nice—an appreciative whispered comment across the table, or maybe after he kissed her goodnight.

  “See, he’s great with compliments,” Chelsea said as they worked their departure through the busy restaurant.

  “Always a shameless flirt,” Ava told her as they stepped into the night air.

  “I know, and he’ll never quit,” she laughed.

  “I’m talking about you,” Ava shoved her playfully.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Kill me now,” Ava grumbled. She put down her paint roller and shook her head. She couldn’t concentrate if her life depended on it. This was the type of painting that was mundane and methodical. Rolling one color on the wall?

  Yawn.

  But during the middle of repainting her living room, Chelsea had called with a huge burdensome announcement: they’d been invited to a party at Trent’s house. Ava had it figured out in two seconds flat. “We” really meant Chelsea plus that nobody that gave up the scene a long time ago. Ava knew it had nothing to do with her looks or her personality, but just the crowd that she knew would be there—the rich socialites that knew she didn’t want anything to do with them.

  She understood why she wasn’t one of the “cool kids” in this particular group anymore, so it didn’t bother her one bit. Chelsea and Ava had grown up in a circle that dubbed you your status based on how rich your parents were. That scene was in the past for Ava, although Chelsea had given her parents the big ‘fuck you’ as well, she still dominated any room with her presence in this crowd. She’d managed to retain her popularity among her peers despite (or maybe because of) her particular choice of promiscuous mutiny.

  Ava knew Adam was going to be there. The truth was, she did want to go but at what cost? To stare at Adam the entire night without being noticed by him?

  She was twenty-one years old and guys still made her nervous. It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle a conversation with one, it was that she immediately knew there was something missing right from the start. She didn’t like being pessimistic and closed off like that, but giving a guy the wrong idea would be a waste of time.

  She sighed as she turned up the music a little more. She would debate her attendance while she finished painting. For the most part, she liked the little projects that she took on to remodel her home. But when it came to painting…this kind was too mundane for her. This was not the kind of painting she enjoyed.

  An hour later, after cleanup and a shower, she sat on her bed and stared at her closet. Her fashion sense wasn’t too lacking, however, she didn’t dress like a girl to be sought after. Chelsea had ever so subtly mentioned that she should switch it up with a miniskirt now and then, but Ava just couldn’t imagine it. Her friend had even given her a couple to test out, but they had never left her own bedroom.

  She threw on a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt and grabbed her list of home improvements. She was about to head for the store when her cell phone rang. Just hearing Vader’s “Imperial March” signified that it was an unwanted call.

  “Nooooo,” she groaned out loud.

  To take the call or not take the call was not a question. She had to take it.

  “Hey, Mom,” she greeted with a fake smile.

  “What are you up to, sweetie?” Claudia Carmichael responded in her usual I’m-pretending-to-love-my-life voice.

  “Well…” She’d done quite a lot to her house that day, but it was for sure nothing her mother wanted to hear about. “I’m about to go the store, actually.”

  “You’re going shopping?” Ava could hear the genuine interest in her mom’s voice. “Where? Maybe I should come too. I’m in desperate need of some new tennis shorts.”

  God, no! Shopping with her mom would be absolute torture. Thankfully she had a good excuse. “I’m actually going to the home improvement store. I doubt you could find anything there to wear at the country club.”

  “What in the world do you need there? I thought you just went there the other day?”

  “I did, but that project is done. Now I’m doing a new one.”

  “What kind of project? And how much more do you need to do to this disaster you call a home?”

  There it was, the dig. Yes, Ava decided not to live in her mom’s beautiful five-bedroom home while she attended college, and her mom was appalled that she’d chosen a “fixer-upper” instead. First of all, it was all Ava could afford, but mostly, she desired that kind of challenge. She wanted something that she could totally re-create. She wasn’t an interior designer, but she was ready to use her other artistic talents to take on something new.

  “It’s been fun,” she answered casually. It never did any good to let her dwell on one subject too long, so Ava added, “How are things with David?”

  Her mom paused for a second, and Ava knew what was coming. “Well, David and I decided to move on. He’s not as interesting as I thought. It’s fine. He’s a nice man, but not my type. And how about you?” she asked, shifting the attention. “Who’s the new man in your life?”

  Ava rolled her eyes at the way her mom always made it a point to ask questions that already had answers. “I’m not seeing anyone right now.” And you know that, she wanted to add. “But I’m kind of going on a group date on Friday.” She couldn’t help it. It was the kind of desperation her parents always brought out in her. She hated it. She hated that she still cared what they thought. Or maybe it was just a way to pacify them so she didn’t have to hear a lecture.

  “Wonderful!” She could hear her mom smile through the phone. “I’d like to meet him.”

  “Meet him?” Ava spat out. “Uh, it’s not exactly to that point, Mom.”

  “I realize that, Ava.” The annoyance in her voice was obvious. “Which is why I’m hoping you’re setting some goals for that. Anyway, I called because your father asked me to pass along a message.”

  Great. It was the same old thing. Her dad was so busy in New York that he couldn’t even take the time to call his own daughter. Her parents had been divorced for a few years, but as bitter as they were toward one another, they at least still had a phone conversation now and then.

  That’s more than Ava had with her father.

  “He’s three hours ahead of our Northwest time, Ava,” Claudia decided to add as if it made a difference.

  Ava didn’t need the excuse. He could call her any time of the damn day. “So what’s the message?” she asked.

  She almost winced, being that she did not have a healthy relationship with her father at all. Not only had he always been too busy for her, but his personality as a human being just didn’t appeal to her in the slightest way. Brad Carmichael did offer his daughter quite a lot—things and money and stuff that didn’t matter to Ava.

  What he never offered was an ounce of his time or respect.

  “He sent a box of things for you to the wrong address,” Claudia finally said. “He sent it to the lake house for some reason. He said to tell you sorry, but his secretary made the mistake and sent it there instead.”

  And he probably fired her for it. Screwed her, and then fired her.

  “That’s fine,” Ava sighed, knowing full well that he most likely did it on purpose. “What did he send?”

  “Autographed music and other items from some band he said you like,” she continued. “If it’s worth money you’d better pick it up. Who knows what kind of riffraff your father sends that way for their own private little romps with mistresses.”

  Ava actually smiled at that but didn’t bother to inform her that he sends his other cheating friends to his condo in Vegas. Families and businessmen that he wanted to impress were sent to his Washington vacation home; the other miserable half were sent to Sin City.

  “Okay, Mom. I’ll head over there as soon as I get a chance. But I need to get going before it gets too late to finish this project.”

  “Fine. But get that package from the lake house, Ava. Brunch on Su
nday, right?”

  “Yes, I’ll be there.”

  They hung up and Ava sighed again. It was a natural reaction to any conversation with either of her parents.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Whoa, I had no idea,” Chelsea reveled. But it was in delight. They both looked at the large home in front of them that appeared to be fully occupied with fun and excitement for the night.

  “This is a little more than I imagined,” Ava said, but Chelsea was already walking toward the house like a moth to a flame. Her college party personality seemed to come to life again. She turned around with a big grin to see why Ava was lagging behind. “Come on!” she squealed. “This is going to be so fun, I promise.”

  “Uh huh,” Ava replied dryly, but she was focused on the task at hand. As soon as they made it into Trent’s house, his loud voice was unmistakable.

  “Chelsea! Just in time for wet t-shirt contest!”

  She giggled good-naturedly but stuck with Ava. They said hi to several people they knew and Chelsea settled for a beer when it was handed to her. Ava declined automatically. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but this type of environment made her very uneasy. She’d been around enough parties to be cautious, and she always took on the responsible role to look out for Chelsea as well.

  However, Ava felt that the night wasn’t too bad. She had fun talking with a friend she hadn’t seen since college, and even though Monica was now finishing up her fourth year, Ava fumbled with an answer as to why she’d quit after only two.

  “Well, a couple of reasons,” she answered, knowing it was going to sound lame. “I’m kind of in the middle of a decision right now, so maybe I’ll go back.”

  Monica didn’t seem to judge Ava one way or another and they continued to talk about their days as freshman—especially with the preacher’s daughter living on their same floor.

  “I’ll never forget the time that you and Gavin were kissing as you came up the stairs,” Monica was laughing. “The look on her face.”