In Too Deep

by J. Kenner

  Her core throbbed, her muscles milking his cock as he exploded inside her, and when he released her nipple and the blood flooded back, she had a second rush of pleasure cut through her almost as intense as the first.

  "That was insane," she murmured, collapsing on top of him, then lifting her head long enough to kiss him.

  "You're amazing," he said. "And as soon as I catch my breath, I'm going to roll you over, put my mouth between your legs, and make you come again."

  She sighed with pleasure, her body shivering with anticipation. "I can live with that," she said, and his chuckle rumbled through her. "Except..."

  She trailed off, then lifted herself onto one elbow.

  "What?"

  "It's just that--"

  "I know," he said. "Only tonight. Method acting."

  She exhaled. "I like you. Obviously. But I'm trying to build a business. I don't have time for a relationship. Or really even for hook-ups. There's too much mental energy, you know?"

  "I get it."

  "I don't want us to get in over our heads."

  "We won't," he said. "We have a deal."

  "But we're agreed about tonight," she asked. "Tonight, all bets are off, right?"

  His eyes sparkled. "Roll over and spread your legs, baby. And I'll give you something to remember tomorrow."

  *

  He was right, she thought as she sat down Sunday morning in the breakfast nook and dug into her mother's pancakes. She definitely remembered every delicious second of the night before.

  Her body was gloriously sore, and she was wonderfully relaxed. Her only regret, in fact, was that there wasn't going to be a repeat performance.

  They'd set down strict rules, after all.

  "Good morning, beautiful," Matthew said as he joined her, looking incredibly sexy in khaki shorts and a Henley style shirt. He forked a few pancakes onto his plate. "This looks amazing. How long have you been up?"

  "This is my mom's handiwork," she said. "Although I don't know where she--oh! Mom!"

  Her mother rushed in, heels clicking, on the tile floor. "Sweetie, I have to rush. We have a church function this morning."

  "But I thought we were going to talk about the money."

  Her mother shot a glance toward Matthew, then curved her lips into a smile. "I talked with Ernest last night, and I think what you want may be possible under the new circumstances." She put a hand on Matthew's shoulder, then winked.

  "Seriously?"

  "But we can't talk about it now. Let us talk it over here, and I'll call you."

  "But--"

  "Drive home safe. It was so good to see you. Kiss-kiss."

  "Mom!"

  But it was no use. Her mother was click-clacking her way to the garage, and Hannah was left with no cash and an incredibly hot man who she'd banned from her bed.

  She sighed and reached for the syrup. At last the pancakes were amazing.

  Chapter Nine

  For three full days after they returned to Austin, Hannah didn't have any time at all to think about Matthew. And yet somehow he managed to be constantly in her thoughts.

  He was there during the hours when she and Easton were reviewing the lease one final time before they signed it on Monday, double and triple checking that the release clause hadn't been altered, and they could still get out from under the obligation if her mother didn't come through with the money.

  He was there when they talked with the utility companies about hooking them up with phone and Internet, and he was definitely there when they sat down at the library table and started talking about clients. Selma and Austin Free-Tail were on the list. And the first suggestion that Hannah made was to see if Herrington's Gym wanted to work with them as well.

  Of course, Easton had already made contact with dozens of local businesses, and the two of them had meeting after non-stop meeting, sometimes retaining clients and sometimes setting up follow-up appointments.

  They interviewed legal assistants, secretarial staff, and file clerks. And Easton started making calls to a few potential candidates to step in as the office manager.

  Every night she went home exhausted.

  And every night she fell asleep with Matthew on her mind. She'd even taken to walking the long way home to her condo, which took her down Lavaca instead of Colorado Street, simply because that's where his gym was located. The windows were tinted, but every once in a while the sun would hit at just the right angle, revealing a dim, almost film negative-like view of the interior. That happened once when she passed, and she caught a glimpse of him standing beside a leg-press talking to a woman who was nodding and sipping water. He paused, holding up his hand as if he were trying to catch a thought. Then he'd turned, as if searching for someone.

  Her?

  Had he realized that she was there?

  She waited, telling herself that if he came outside it was a sign that they should have a drink or dinner. That they should forget their plan to ignore the chemistry between them and simply move on with their lives.

  But he didn't step outside, and she'd kept going to her condo. Then continued on with her busy week. A week when she didn't have a single free moment that she could think of him.

  And yet somehow she managed.

  "So call him," her friend Shelby said, after Hannah rattled off the entire story one morning when they'd run into each other at the downtown Starbucks.

  "Look who's completely changed her tune," Hannah said. "Nolan's been good for you. And you're welcome, by the way."

  Once a completely straight-laced CPA, Shelby Drake had started dating Nolan Wood, a raucous drive time DJ with absolutely no filter. Hannah took full credit of course, since she was the one who'd convinced Shelby to buy sex toys as a bachelorette gift for a friend, thus sparking a chain reaction of naughtiness that had culminated with Shelby in Nolan's bed.

  "I'm serious," Shelby said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "You obviously like the guy. Just call."

  "I meant what I said to him. I need to focus on building the practice. I don't have time for a relationship."

  Shelby pushed a lock of dark hair behind one ear, then sipped her latte. "Maybe not. But sounds like you want one."

  Hannah frowned. She didn't. Truly.

  But that didn't mean a few more non-committed hook-ups wouldn't be fun. Friends with benefits was a valid thing, right? And she definitely considered Matthew a friend. Considering how well they got along, how could he not be?

  That rationalization lasted all the way to the office. Then she got busy and reminded herself that this was why she didn't do relationships. Or, for that matter, hook-ups.

  "It'll slow down," Easton said, leaning against her office door.

  "What?" She'd been slouching behind her desk, but now she sat up straight. "I'm fine. Do I look like I'm complaining about the pace?"

  He chuckled. "No. I'm just reassuring us both that we're in start-up mode. But it'll calm down."

  "I'm not worried."

  "Selma is," he said with a wry grin. "She made me promise to not work this weekend. And if I'm taking off, so are you."

  She started to protest, but why? Her condo was a wreck. She could use the weekend to sleep and clean. Maybe even get a massage.

  And see Matthew?

  She frowned, shoving the thought aside.

  "What's wrong?"

  She smiled brightly. "Just debating between a massage or a body wrap. If you're making me blow off work, I'm going to do it in a big way."

  "Good for you." He indicated the briefcase that he'd set at the floor by his feet. "I'm going to finish up at home. See you tomorrow. Casual Friday."

  She rolled her eyes. She'd been on the floor going through file boxes most of the day, and she doubted the dry cleaners would be able to get the dust and grime off her favorite black linen slacks.

  As soon as Easton was gone, she leaned back in her chair, trying to decide if she should stay or take some of her own work home with her. She'd just decided to go when her office phone
rang, and she snatched it up. "Wallace and Donovan." God, she loved saying that.

  "Doesn't that sound wonderful," her mother said. "Sweetie, I'm so proud of you."

  "Proud enough to let me have the money from Daddy's insurance?" And wasn't she becoming bolder by the minute? She'd mentioned the money to her mom before she and Matthew had driven back, and her mother had intimated that it was certainly possible, but she needed to talk with Ernest.

  "Why don't we talk about it tomorrow?" her mother asked, and Hannah's heart began to hammer in her chest.

  "Tomorrow? We can talk now. I mean, I'm--"

  "This calls for an in-person discussion and celebration. And Ernest and I will be in town, and we thought we should have dinner with you and Matthew to celebrate your engagement. We didn't get to chat with him nearly enough at the party."

  "Are you saying you won't give it to me?"

  "Sweetie, no. I'm saying we want to do dinner. Ernest and I were both charmed by Matthew. Seven o'clock? We can eat at Three Forks downtown. Matthew likes steak, I assume?"

  "I--yes." She assumed so, too. "But--"

  "Gotta run, sweetheart. Momma loves you."

  "But--"

  The line went dead.

  Discussion? Celebration?

  What did that mean? That the money was hers so long as she didn't screw it up? Which she wouldn't.

  Or, rather, she hoped she wouldn't. It really wasn't up to her.

  She needed Matthew again. And she really hoped he wouldn't say no.

  Chapter Ten

  He should have said no.

  Matthew paced the sidewalk in front of Three Forks on Lavaca in downtown Austin, checking and rechecking his watch. Hannah had said to meet her at six-forty-five so that they could chat before meeting her parents at seven. It was six-forty-eight.

  He really should have said no. Seeing her again was ... well, it was disconcerting. Or it would be if she showed up.

  The simple fact was that she'd been on his mind constantly since the moment they'd parted ways after returning to Austin on Sunday. So much so that he'd even imagined seeing her on the street outside his gym, simply standing there and looking in at him.

  He wanted her.

  Damn, but he wanted her. But he also knew that she didn't want him. Not only had she made it clear that she wasn't interested in a relationship right now, but he knew damn well that at the end of the day a highly educated lawyer wasn't going to be interested in more than a fling with a glorified gym rat. And that was true no matter how pretty or convincing her words might be.

  He checked his watch once more. Six-fifty.

  He'd give her one more minute, and if she hadn't shown by then, he'd text an apology and he'd--

  "Matthew!"

  The power of the relief that flooded through him almost knocked him over, and he didn't even try to hold back his smile as she hurried toward him, looking completely put together in black slacks, a black blazer, and a white silk blouse. The complete opposite of the wild woman she'd been in bed. And honestly, both versions of her were equally appealing. There was nothing about Hannah Donovan he didn't find fascinating. Too bad she'd made it clear they shouldn't act on that attraction.

  She'd obviously come straight from work, and though he had as well, he'd taken time to shower and change in the locker room. Now, he was wearing the same outfit they'd bought in Dallas. Not original, maybe, but it had worked once before.

  She grinned when she saw it, then ran her fingers over the lapel. "Classy," she said, as he resisted the urge to reach out and touch her.

  "You think he'll notice it's the same?"

  "If he does, he won't say anything." She took a step back, then sighed when she looked up at him. "Thank you for doing this. It really is good to see you."

  "Does this mean you're getting the money? Or is this the last test?"

  "Honestly, I'm not sure. But I'm going to assume it's a test unless the first thing they do is hand me a check." She took his hand, then squeezed. "Okay?"

  "You know it is," he said. "We put on this play once before. I guess this is our curtain call."

  "The man likes theater." She hip-bumped him. "Maybe I'll talk you into taking me to a show."

  He cocked his head, trying to decide if she was serious. "I have a friend with connections," he said. "I think I can score orchestra seats to pretty much anything you want."

  "I guess that earns you points in the Keeper column," she said, but before he could study her face and get a read on her, she'd spun around in response to the quick beep of a car horn. With a wave, she hurried to the car stand, then greeted Amelia and Ernest as they left the car with the valet.

  "So good to see you," Ernest said to Matthew, then began to wax poetic about a political luncheon they'd attended that afternoon to benefit an up-and-coming gubernatorial candidate. "Politics are a hideous business," he continued, once they were seated and the wine had been poured. "But once you're in the quicksand, it's hard to get out. How about you, Matthew? Any interest in politics?"

  "Not particularly." He had a feeling that wasn't Ernest Pierpont's ideal response, but since there was no way that Matthew could fake knowing a damn thing about politics, it was the only answer he could give.

  "I suppose not," Ernest said. "Not much need when you're an uneducated man running a gym, is there."

  Matthew had been lifting his glass, but now he froze, his glance catching Hannah's panicked one.

  "He's--"

  "A gym owner, just like you said," Matthew put in, trying to keep his voice level and smooth. He took a sip of wine, mostly to let himself think. "I owe you an apology for misrepresenting myself. Hannah wanted to tell you what I do from the beginning, but I was nervous. She argued that I've supported myself since I was sixteen. That I started with a five-thousand-dollar loan from my parents and now have no debt and three established gyms in Austin, and even own the building downtown, which, frankly, is a prime piece of real estate."

  He drew a breath, amazed that he was thinking and speaking clearly when his nerves were humming and his heart was pounding so hard it felt like he'd done a hundred-meter dash.

  "She said that you'd respect me as an entrepreneur," he continued, not looking at Ernest's face, because if he did he'd surely lose his nerve. "That you'd see the same thing in me that you saw in Amelia--in how she worked her way up after being widowed as a single mother."

  Beneath the table, Hannah's fingers dug into his thigh. He took another sip of wine, resisting the urge to look at Hannah. "She told me that a man like you--a man who understood people and business would respect what I've done. And after talking with you at your home, I realize that she was right. But before meeting you, sir--well, I confess that you intimidated me. And I made the decision to lie. To be the man I believed you wanted for your daughter, and not the man I truly am."

  One more sip of wine. One more deep breath. And then he really did look Ernest straight in the eye. "I hope you can forgive me for underestimating you, sir. I assure you, Hannah never did."

  "Well." Ernest leaned back, then looked between him and Hannah. "Well," he said again.

  "My, my," Amelia said. "I can't remember the last time I've seen you speechless." She winked at Matthew. "I think you impressed him."

  "That you did, son." He turned his attention to Hannah. "You picked yourself a good man, Hannah."

  "Yes," she said, with her hand still on his thigh. "I really think I did."

  "That fifty grand is in a CD that doesn't come due for another year. But I've got fifty I can turn liquid by next week. We'll be back in town Wednesday evening. How about I bring you a cashier's check then?"

  The hand on his leg tightened so much it almost cut off his circulation, but Hannah's facial expression never faltered. She kept calm, smiled, and thanked Ernest and her mother before lifting her wine in a toast to them.

  She kept her hand on Matthew's thigh for the rest of dinner, only taking it away when absolutely necessary. And partly because of that--and par
tly because of the massive release of adrenaline after that speech, which qualified as the longest in his entire life, Matthew remembered absolutely nothing about the rest of the dinner except that he ate steak, had a bite of Hannah's cheesecake, and received a hearty pat on the back before Ernest and Amelia returned to their car and their hotel.

  "We're heading back to Dallas before dawn," Amelia said. "But we'll see you next week when we bring the check to Hannah."

  "Sounds great," Matthew said, hoping against hope that he developed a mild case of Ebola before then. Because honestly, he didn't think he could take a repeat performance.

  "Hey," Hannah said as her parents' car pulled away. "Thanks so much for coming tonight. I was worried when Ernest called you out about the gym, but you turned it around beautifully. That was seriously impressive."

  "And you're getting your money."

  She grinned at him, her face lit up like a kid at Christmas. "I owe you big time for that."

  "You would have gotten it eventually."

  She shook her head. "Eventually is useless. Thursday is the last day we can back out of the lease and still get back the money we put down back. So knowing I'll have the cash on Wednesday and can tell Easton I'm truly in as a full partner? Well, it couldn't be more perfect."

  He reached out and took both her hands, then looked into her smiling face. "It was my absolute pleasure."

  "So, I was wondering..."

  He cocked his head. "Yeah?"

  Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. "I just thought you might be thinking about asking me back to your place."

  A warm rush of pleasure spread through him, and he regretfully shook his head. "Sorry. No."

  "Oh." The depth of disappointment in her voice was probably the biggest compliment he'd ever received.

  "I'm not going home."

  "Oh." Her brow furrowed. "Wait. I'm about to be really mortified, aren't I? Do you have a date?"

  "Actually, yeah. She's five years old and as sweet as can be."

  When she only stared blankly, he laughed. "I'm babysitting," he said. "But you're welcome to tag along."