Hot Shot (American Royalty Book 3)

by Robin Bielman

  Have I mentioned how hot it is in here?

  Looking at him is almost too much for my little heart to handle.

  “Naked?” I object to his state of undress and my tone tells him so. Not that I object, object. I, uh, like the view. Very much. But I’m all flustered!

  He grins. Grins, the sexy jerk! Which makes this even worse. Because over the past week, ever since he took care of my blister, things have been intensifying between us. We’ve been caught looking at each other more, flirting, touching here and there.

  “Is that a problem?” he asks.

  “Um…define problem.”

  He laughs. “You know, you’re lucky I have the towel on. Normally I don’t bother.”

  My jaw drops, only he doesn’t see it because he’s walked past me to the kitchen. I turn my head to check out his nice round ass. I can’t help myself. It’s an involuntary response to his hotness. When he moves behind the counter, I force myself to resume reading. Not that I could tell you a thing about what’s happening on the page.

  On the way back to his bedroom, he stops in front of me. Thankfully, the ottoman separates us by a couple of feet, otherwise I’d be way too close to his family jewels. That I just thought family jewels means there is something definitely wrong with me. I’m naming the condition Drew Fever.

  “Yes?” I say to page 167 of my book. “Did you need something?”

  He doesn’t say anything so I’m forced to look up. And what do I find? Too much bare skin! Too much, too much, too much. Also, he’s giving me the look again. The one that makes me ache between my legs.

  And one more thing, I’m pretty sure he’s intentionally posing. Flexing his muscles and angling his square jaw in such a way to make a woman sigh. (I do no such thing, but it’s difficult.) His hand is curved around the towel at his hip—one quick flick of the wrist and I will see everything, that hand teases. I want to look away. I really do. But I don’t. I can’t.

  “The fridge is stocked for you,” he says, drawing my gaze back to his eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Drinks and snacks for your girls’ night. I asked Chloe what to get so you should be good.”

  “Drew, I can get my own food.”

  “I know you can.” He shifts and all his muscles flex in a very distracting manner.

  I start to sweat. My cheeks heat further.

  He smirks in triumph. He knows. He knows what his nakedness is doing to me.

  Well, two can play this game. I put my book down and get to my feet. “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll enjoy everything.” I reach for the top button of my sweater.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, clearing his throat.

  I continue to unbutton my black cardigan, silently shushing my nerves. Underneath the soft wool, I’m wearing a lace-trimmed white cotton camisole with a built-in bra. It covers me, but doesn’t hide much. Including my pebbled nipples.

  “I think I’ll change into my pajamas before the girls get here,” I say, slipping the sweater off my shoulders to dish some of his own medicine back at him.

  Drew gets an eyeful before I step around him. I almost walk backward toward my room so he can look his fill, but I’d rather leave him curious than satisfied. “Have fun with your brother,” I call out.

  “Uh, you, too,” Drew stammers. “I mean not with your brother. Have fun with your sister and friends.”

  The second I turn the hall corner and am out of sight, I sprint to my room, close the door with my foot, jump onto my bed, and roll around to extinguish all the excess nervous energy. How is it Drew can feel dangerous and safe at the same time?

  I change into my pajamas and then open my laptop to do some more work on the grant proposal for the senior center. As it stands now, we won’t be able to make our balloon payment. The developer eyeing the property is waiting in the wings with deep pockets and friends in high places. Not to mention the company knows exactly what to say to increase our director’s stress level.

  I stare at the lotus tattoo on my finger. I have to save the center. I just have to. I can’t lose it, too.

  An hour later I’m sitting on the couch with Gabby, Jane, and Sutton. We’re wearing homemade honey masks on our faces and talking, eating the yummy assortment of food Drew had stocked, and drinking vodka lemonades. The sun is setting outside the window, the final rays of a warm June day slashing across the large, but homey room. My own home is getting a beautiful facelift, the work progressing nicely when I checked in on it yesterday.

  “Oh my God, look at this one,” Sutton says, turning her phone so we can see the screen shot of Drew in a tux at a charity event. “He is too good-looking for words.”

  Despite my best efforts to avoid the topic of Drew, it’s hard to avoid the topic of Drew when I’m staying in his suite and he’s provided more food than I ever would have on my own, thus begetting discussion of his generosity. There’s also the lingering scent of his aftershave or body wash or whatever it is that smells so fantastically incredible Sutton said it made her panties wet with one inhalation.

  “Enough with the pictures,” I say. “He’s just a man.”

  Gabby shakes her head. “He is so muy caliente it should be a crime.”

  “Better not let Landon hear you talk like that,” Sutton says. “He’ll lose his shit.”

  My sister stays quiet, which is very unlike her. Sutton is right. Landon is the jealous type. He and my sister are also fighting more than usual. To cut through Gabby’s funk, I say, “I saw Drew in nothing but a towel today.”

  Three honey-oatmeal faces turn to me. “Muy, muy caliente,” I tell them.

  “Tell us everything from the beginning,” Gabby says, her posture perking up.

  I relay what happened, my neck getting warm as I picture Drew and all his masculinity on display. When I’ve finished, I take a big gulp of my vodka lemonade. Drew is so much more than just a well-built man. He’s kind. Intelligent. Confident yet humble.

  “You need to have sex with him,” Gabby orders. Yes, orders. She likes to do that.

  “You do,” Sutton agrees. “What happened today was foreplay.”

  “I concur,” Jane says in her lawyerly voice. She pulls a wayward curl of hair off her cheek.

  “He’s into you,” Gabby says. “I saw it the first time I met him at his hotel. And from everything I’ve seen since then and the things you’ve told me about him, and the way you say them, you’re into him, too. You’ve had sex with one person, Allie.” My sister thinks this is a bad thing, and as such, her tone drips with disapproval. “I know you still have feelings for Matthew, or you think you do, but you guys are not together. And before he comes back you need, yes need, to be with someone else.”

  This is easy for my sister to say. She’s had lots of boyfriends and doesn’t put the same significance on sex that I do. She gave her virginity to a boy she didn’t even love, while I made Matthew wait for almost a year.

  “Let yourself go for once,” Gabby continues. “Sex doesn’t have to be anything more than just sex.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but you know I don’t work that way.” I wipe the corner of my mouth where some of my face mask has gathered. “I really like Drew so if we have sex it’s going to mean something to me.”

  “So, you’re afraid you’ll get hurt?” Jane asks.

  “She’s already hurting,” Gabby says, taking my hand to give it a squeeze. “I know Matthew hurt you when he left and you’re still not entirely over it, but don’t deprive yourself the chance to be happy with someone else.”

  “That’s just it. Drew definitely makes me happy and I think I make him happy, too, but he deserves someone who’s all in, and I feel guilty for still hanging on to hope that Matthew and I will pick up where we left off.”

  “Do you really?” Gabby asks. “Not the guilty part—I know you feel that because you care more about others than you do yourself. I’m talking about the hope part. Because I don’t think you hope that anymore. I think you’re hung
up on the idea that you’ve always believed in one true love and if it’s not Matthew then you won’t have it.”

  “I don’t see the difference,” I say quietly.

  “What if Matthew isn’t the person you’re supposed to have forever with?” Gabby asks. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Drew came back into your life mere weeks before you see Matthew again.”

  “I don’t think it is either,” Sutton chimes in.

  “This is the universe telling you something,” Gabby continues. “There are other great guys out there and maybe you should keep an open mind.”

  “I’m trying,” I admit. Drew has opened my eyes, but I haven’t quite given myself full permission to let all these feelings free. From the second I saw Drew I knew there was something special about him, and that terrified me. It scared me to think what I’ve believed since I was seventeen—that Matt and I would get married one day—wasn’t true anymore.

  “That’s all any of us can do, Allie,” Jane says.

  “Here’s an idea,” Gabby offers. “Add sex with Drew to your mental list.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. She knows that everything I add there, I make happen.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” She taps the side of her head. “Put ‘single girl sex’ here—got it? It’s doable, Sis.”

  I chew on my bottom lip. “The truth is I don’t need to put it on the list. I want to be closer to him.” There. I said it out loud. Put it out there so I can’t take it back.

  “Yes!” Gabby pumps her arms in the air.

  “But is it fair of me? I don’t want to hurt him either.”

  “Trust me,” Sutton says, “no man would say no to sex with you. And you aren’t promising him anything by sleeping with him. As long as you mutually consent, there’s no harm.”

  Gabby nods. “We can’t predict the future, so the best thing to do is live in the present. Dating is supposed to be fun and sex is fun. I know you think so, too.”

  “True,” I say, imagining the newness of being with someone like Drew will be way more than just fun.

  “And you might not want to hear it, but I can guarantee you Matthew hasn’t stayed celibate.” Gabby reties the bun on top of her head.

  She’s probably right. I don’t want to think about that, though. And it doesn’t matter what he’s done. He’s free to do as he chooses. I close my eyes for a moment and wonder if he’s had sex with someone else. Maybe more than one someone. And I know the answer, because I know him. Yes.

  He likes sex. He’s good at sex. And he’s a twenty-six-year-old male.

  “Sorry,” Gabby mutters. “I just thought it should be mentioned.”

  “Thanks, you guys.” I look at each of them, grateful for their friendship. “You’ve helped put things in perspective for me.”

  “We love you,” Sutton says.

  Gabby holds up her drink. “To sisterhood.”

  We clink glasses and move on to talk about their love lives. In the back of my mind, though, is Drew. The smile he gives so freely and readily. His deep voice. The pride he takes in his work. I may not know what the future holds, but I know I want Drew to hold me.

  Drew

  “I can’t believe I had to hear from Grandmother that you have a new girlfriend,” Finn says. “I thought you were on a break from women? Or at least not jumping into bed with one right away?”

  It’s a legit question considering I usually—okay always—have sex pretty quickly, and the last time I had a heart-to-heart with my brothers we talked about how I wanted a meaningful connection with someone and so maybe some mental foreplay and anticipation would be a better way to approach my love life.

  See, I’ve got my own list. In my search for the one, there are several boxes in my mind that I want to tick off on my girl-I’m-going-marry checklist.

  Box 1: Be attractive. Don’t hate on me for making this number one, I’m just being truthful here. I have to find my future wife beautiful, sexy, and fascinating.

  Box 2: Be sexually open. I want someone who’s not afraid to talk about sex—what we want and don’t want, what we’re willing to try. Likes and dislikes. Fantasies.

  Box 3: Be confident. I’ve dated some clingy, irrational, materialistic, closed-minded, preoccupied-with-having-my-babies-before-we’ve-gotten-to-dessert women, and no thank you. I want someone honest, optimistic, self-sufficient. Honesty is key. Trust. I’ve been hit over the head—literally—with lies and trickery, and it still occasionally keeps me up at night.

  Box 4: Be goal-oriented. I want a woman who has her own goals and doesn’t look at me like a free meal ticket.

  Box 5: Be kind. I want some who is nurturing, family-oriented, and thinks of others, not just herself.

  Box 6: CLW. I’m not sure yet how I’ll know, but I want the woman I Can’t Live Without.

  “I haven’t slept with her,” I tell Finn. We’re in his kitchen sitting on barstools at the counter and eating a great meal prepared by his housekeeper, Sylvie. It’s a rare night off for Finn, and when he’s in town he likes to stay home. Chloe is bringing dinner to her best friend, Jillian. She and her husband just had a baby a few days ago.

  “Yet you’ve been off and on for a while? Wow. I need to meet this girl.”

  My grandmother has a mind like a steel trap so of course she shared every detail about me and Alejandra. Or rather, what I told her about us.

  “Yeah, about that…” I feel like shit for not coming clean with her yet, but I’ve been a little preoccupied. With Alejandra. So that should count in my favor, right?

  Finn puts his fork down. “What did you do now?”

  I stop midbite of my salmon. “What do you mean what did I do now? You make it sound like I’m always up to no good.”

  He raises his brows at me.

  Okay, so maybe I like to be a pain in my brothers’ asses. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do as the youngest? It’s how I show my love for them.

  “I may have misled Grandmother,” I confess.

  “May have?”

  “Okay, I did. But it’s only because she wanted to set me up with Marin Fitzpatrick.”

  “Isn’t she a ghost hunter or something?”

  “Yes, and then some.”

  Finn laughs. He knows how much I hate scary shit. “I see your dilemma.”

  “Thank you,” I say adamantly and drop my fork on my plate. It clinks. “So when I ran into Alejandra again at the hotel while having breakfast with Grandmother, I fibbed about dating her so Grandmother would back off on the matchmaking.”

  “What do you mean by again?”

  I tell him about meeting Alejandra last year and her leaving the bar without a proper goodbye. I admit to thinking about her often since then. “I couldn’t believe she was in my hotel,” I say, scratching the back of my head. “And I know it’s cliché, but she drew me in like a magnet. It’s not just her looks either. It’s her…” I trail off trying to come up with the perfect word or words to describe this unique energy I get from her. “It’s her moral fiber. She’s uplifting and I feel like we’re connected without even trying.”

  “So, why the subterfuge?”

  “Because she didn’t exactly feel the same way at the time.” I’m definitely wearing her down. This past week we’ve flirted a ton. Talked and teased each other. I want to believe her ex isn’t on her mind anymore because when I think about how he got to touch her, love her, look at her, go head-to-head with her, for years, it worries me. That’s not something easily forgotten, and right or wrong, I dislike him for it.

  Finn gives me a straight face for all of two seconds before he busts out with laughter that doesn’t quit until I cross my arms and glare at him. “Finally, a girl who doesn’t throw herself at you,” he says.

  “It sucks.”

  “Does it really?” Being a professional athlete, Finn is well acquainted with eager women, but when it came down to the woman whose heart he wanted, he had to give chase. Chloe didn’t fall at his feet or even want to go on
a single date with him. Huh. I tuck away the parallel for safekeeping. “Because in my experience a woman worth having is one who knows her worth and isn’t easily swayed by a handsome face.”

  “You’ve swayed women with that face?”

  “More than you, baby brother.”

  He’s probably right about that, late bloomer that I was. There’s also the four months in college where I barely left my condo. Miranda screwed me over and screwed me up. West got me out of my funk. He gave me his blessing to date his sister. I know that sounds weird, but it wasn’t. It was an act of true friendship. I’d always had a crush on Tracy. She was—is a good person. She was safe when I needed safe. We dated for almost a year before deciding there wasn’t the kind of spark we both wanted or deserved.

  I know Alejandra is attracted to me (you should have seen her eyes widen and hear her breath hitch when I walked around in a towel earlier), but all of a sudden I’m gun-shy. Fucking memories of Miranda. Logically, I know Alejandra is nothing like her. But the fact is, I’ve only been dating Alejandra for a short time.

  “You think Grandmother will be mad at me?”

  “Probably.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  “You’re supposed to make me feel better, not worse.”

  “Do you need a hug?” He turns in his chair and opens his arms. He’s half serious, half flippant, and I’m cool with both because a back slap from my big brother is needed regardless. Alejandra is under my skin and I hope I don’t get burned.

  We grasp hands and wrap our other arm around each other. “I’m kidding you know. Grandmother can’t stay mad at any of us.”

  “That’s true,” I say.

  “How is work?” Finn asks on the release. We switch gears to talk business and baseball and a little while later, I’m back at the hotel.

  I expect to find everyone still in the suite as it isn’t very late, but the room is quiet except for Alejandra cleaning up the kitchen. “Hey,” she says, drying a glass with a dish towel.