Sweet Abduction

by Sasha Gold

  “Sweet dreams, Leah.” His expression is lascivious, wicked. He touches his lips with two fingers and blows a kiss. And then he’s gone. Leaving me alone and bewildered.

  Chapter Ten

  Riley

  The next afternoon we head out to see my foster parents, George and Emily. They sold their bungalow a couple of years ago when I bought them the beach house on Padre Island. The town is full of retirees. George can catch his limit every day if he wants and Emily is able to grow every type of rose known to man. They stay really busy. Every night they have dinner at some other couple’s house or have friends over.

  Unfortunately, neither of them are too happy with me right now. This morning I told them I’d married Leah in a private ceremony, and even though I intend to have a big wedding, they’re both put out. They never stay mad long though and I’m certain that once I get there I’ll be forgiven.

  Leah’s a little annoyed with me too. We’re driving in my jeep with the top off and so it’s not very easy to talk. She’s hardly made eye contact with me today. Part of it is because of last night, but the other part is what happened this morning at my workout. A few of the press were invited and when I bench pressed 450, they caught Ivan’s look of shock.

  Naturally they asked him why I was benching so much more and he gestured to Leah. She turned red and refused to answer any of their questions.

  Since I’m such a gentleman I told them it’s Ivan’s killer workouts that are to blame. That and the disgusting protein concoctions he wants me to drink. I intend to finish my last fight in record time. Every second I’m in the ring with Mikhail Vronsky, I’m not in bed with Leah.

  She’s gazing at the horizon, lost in thought. The blue t-shirt molds to her breasts and she’s wearing shorts that show off her sexy legs. Her sandals show off her small feet and damn if they aren’t sexy as hell too. I steal a glance at them and wonder if I might have a foot fetish. But no…I’m sure it’s a Leah fetish.

  We’ve been together ten days now and Miranda hasn’t sent the police over since that first time. She hasn’t tried to communicate with Leah either and that makes me happy. I’m sure if any of the press ask her, she’ll claim to be delighted Leah’s gotten married.

  I set my hand on Leah’s thigh and she flinches. All I want is to draw her into some sort of conversation. I’d rather argue than have her give me the silent treatment.

  “You want me to take you out on the boat?” I’ve got to practically yell to be heard over the wind.

  She ignores me a little longer and then surprises me by taking my hand and threading her fingers through mine. “I thought we’d walk on the beach. Maybe at night. You know, in the moonlight?”

  “That sounds pretty romantic. Like I should have thought of that.”

  She laughs. “You should have.”

  Her smile gets me every time. I have to say it’s pretty damn radiant, especially with wisps of her copper hair swirling in the wind. We drive the rest of the way with her hand in mine.

  An hour later we pull into George and Em’s house and they’re waiting on the porch. When Emily spots my jeep, she gets to her feet and George is a step behind. They come down the steps, big, giant smiles on their faces.

  All the attention is on Leah. In the past, Emily has probably asked me a hundred times who my “mystery girl” is that the press keeps bringing up. Ask is probably too gentle of a word – hound is more accurate.

  “I can’t believe Riley brought you in that jeep,” Emily fusses.

  Leah tries to straighten her hair but it’s a mess. She fixed it before we left into a cute little braid that went half-way down her back. When I saw it, I had to fight the urge to reach out and tug it.

  George and Emily both give her a hug and take us inside. The house smells wonderful and the aroma of dinner makes me nostalgic. I remember when I came to live with them. It was the first time I’d had meals that didn’t come from a fast food window or a can. There were enough times when I didn’t eat at all. George and Em changed all that. Sometimes I wish I could bring my parents to live with me, but I know how much they love living on the coast.

  “I made meatloaf and garlic mashed potatoes and salad and French bread,” Emily says. “I hope that’s enough. Riley said you’re not a picky eater.”

  “No ma’am,” Leah says. “What else did he say about me?”

  She eyes me mischievously and I immediately try to play back what I think I told Emily over the phone. Most of the conversation was her giving me hell about going from no girlfriend to married without anything between. George was none too happy either and let me know, but ended with him choking up a little and saying he was happy for me.

  They never knew Dane or any of the history I had with the Mathews family. When the NFL thing didn’t work out, I told them it was because I wanted to do something different with my life.

  “I told Emily that you were my mystery girl and that you were gorgeous and smart and funny,” I tell Leah.

  She pops me on the shoulder. “You said that about me.”

  “Surprised?” I ask, and I can tell by the wide-eyed look she gives me that she is.

  “You better be tough,” George says. “Riley’s no ray of sunshine.”

  George grins when he says it, but he’s not kidding. Both of them got a handful when they let me come live with them and I always marveled they didn’t toss me out on my ass after some of the stunts I pulled. Lucky George and Emily got me when I was eleven and not any later. I put them through a year of hell.

  The next year, when I entered seventh grade, I started playing football. George worked with me in the evenings and on weekends, helping me improve my skills, and my attitude changed as my abilities improved. We started watching college games on Saturday and pro games on Sundays. Football united us. It was a bond. I went to college on a scholarship. I knew he was disappointed when I didn’t play pro. I never told him what happened, and George, in his typical way, didn’t press for answers.

  We eat dinner and George and Emily are full of questions for Leah, but she doesn’t miss a beat even when the conversation turns to her father and his passing. I never cared for the guy… at all. Even though it was Miranda who derailed my career, Anderson Mathews didn’t stop her or look for the truth.

  “I remember seeing pictures of you campaigning with your daddy,” George says. “Never imagined you’d end up being family.”

  “Neither did I, George,” Leah replies, glancing at me, a look that starts out accusing but slips into a look of playfulness.

  She has no idea what she does to me. I’m counting the days until I can make her mine. My mind veers into territory I shouldn’t think about, not before the fight and not here at my parent’s dinner table. It’s clear she’s aware of my torment and she winks, just to be sassy. I shake my head, warning her not to tease me.

  Emily clears the dishes, shooing away any offers of help and returns with a plate of cookies which she sets in the middle of the table. She stands, resolute, her hands on her hips.

  “When Riley told me about you, I have to admit something,” Emily says.

  I’m about to devour a cookie but her words worry me. She doesn’t beat around the bush and I have a pretty good idea what’s coming.

  “What did you imagine?” Leah asks.

  “I imagined a red-headed granddaughter,” Emily says. “A little girl with your lovely hair.”

  “Oh…?” Leah blinks and looks to me and then back to Emily, blushing.

  “George and I couldn’t have children and if God hadn’t punished me enough, he sent me a troublesome scamp to raise.” She tilts her head my direction. “I’m sure I deserve a sweet little granddaughter.”

  “I’ll take another troublesome scamp,” George says. “I’m not particular. In fact, I’d take a few troublesome scamps.”

  Leah squirms in her chair and looks to me for help.

  “We’ve planned on at least four,” I say, winking at Leah. “Two of each.”

  Leah narr
ows her eyes. “Riley…”

  I’m sure she’ll give me hell about that later, but it’s worth it to see her cheeks turn pink.

  After dinner, we head out the back door and I show her the trail that leads to the beach. The house is set back away behind a seawall that’s built to protect the neighborhood from storm surges. We have to climb a set of stairs to get over the massive structure. The sun has set and gulls fly over the water in the twilight. The beach is deserted, which suits me fine. When we get to the other side of the wall, Leah turns her fury on me.

  “Four kids, Riley! Why would you tell those poor, sweet people that we’re going to have four kids?”

  “Because I’m going to convince you.”

  “You’re not going to convince me of anything.”

  “Come on, let’s take off our shoes. It’s more romantic walking in bare feet. We can leave them here by the stairs.”

  She slips off her sandals, a pout on her lips.

  “We’re going to have to sleep together tonight, Leah.”

  “What!” Horror washes over her face. “We can’t do that!”

  “If we sleep apart, Emily’s going to think we’re having marital problems. George probably will too. You don’t want to make those poor, sweet people worry do you?”

  “Holy shit…”

  “What’s wrong with sleeping with me?”

  “Just that it seems like the world’s worst idea. You and I need to stay far, far away from each other. Even you said that.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.” I laugh and imagine grabbing her and wrestling her down to the sand. No one’s around to wonder why this poor girl is shrieking. I’d hold her down and kiss her until she agreed to anything I wanted. Sleeping together. Four kids. Five.

  She tosses her sandals aside and starts down the beach without me. Something about her stride puts a little wiggle in her step and my gaze is drawn to the curve of her ass. This girl’s going to make me lose my mind. I’m going to figure out how many hours I have till that damn fight is over. I pull off my shoes and jog after her. When I get to her side I give her ass a smack. She yelps and rubs the spot with her hand.

  “Sleeping together is a bad idea, Riley,” she snaps. “You’re completely inappropriate when you’re awake. What’s going to happen when you’re fast asleep and I am too?”

  “You think I’m going to ravish you in my sleep?”

  “No, but you’ll try to do the same thing you did last night.”

  “Which you enjoyed, if I recall.”

  She stops walking and I do too, turning to face her.

  “You’re using me, Riley.”

  The fire in her eyes is something I’ve never seen before and it takes me a moment to come up with an answer. She looks pissed. It is a good look on her. Leah can get mad but she can’t stay mad. She’s like a sieve and all the bad stuff runs out of her. I’m the same, but for me, it’s the good stuff that runs out. Maybe because for so long all I felt was anger.

  I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “I promise I’m not going to touch you tonight. I’ll stay on my side of the bed.”

  She folds her arms across her chest. “Not good enough.”

  “What do you want from me? Want me to keep one foot on the floor or something? Want to tie my hands?” I give what I hope is a sexy smirk.

  “No. You need to sleep on the couch. And you’re going to tell poor George and Emily that we’re not having some big family because that’s not funny. It’s not funny to me and not to them either. Keep that up and they’re going to start picking out names.”

  I shrug. “So what? Why not let them?”

  Her hand lashes out so fast I don’t see it coming, but the sting on the side of my face tells me I’ve just been slapped. By my wife. By Leah. A girl managed to connect with my face when dozens of sparring partners and twenty opponents haven’t even gotten close.

  Rubbing my jaw, I go through a quick list of responses, the most amusing one is tossing her over my shoulder and carrying her into the surf. I’d toss her sweet ass into the water just to see her look of outrage. But I don’t.

  She’s eyeing me warily, wondering what I might do in retaliation.

  “All right, Leah. I won’t joke about children.”

  “And you’re sleeping on the couch too. You’re not supposed to be messing with a woman before a fight. That’s what you told me.”

  I growl at her request. I know I’m not supposed to be with a woman. I don’t need for Leah, of all people, to tell me how to behave before a fight. Stalking towards her I half-expect her to retreat, but she stands firm. I want to sleep next to her. Maybe it’s a bad idea, but I need to feel her. It’s making me crazy to have her so close and not in my arms. That was one of my reasons for coming down so late in the day. It would force us to stay overnight. And since she’s ignored my offers of staying in her room or coming to mine, I needed to be sly. Which backfired.

  Looking up at me through a fringe of long lashes she cups my jaw with her palm. “I’m doing this for you, Riley,” she says softly, and her gentle tone combined with the fragile look in her eyes softens something in my chest. I lean into her touch.

  “Okay.”

  She steps past me and continues walking up the beach. I catch up in a few steps and we walk together in silence. The waves roll across the wet sand and then rumble back to the ocean. Another older couple approaches walking the opposite direction. I’m relieved they probably won’t recognize me. We go about a half hour until we turn back. Not bothering with our shoes, we grab them and head up the stairs.

  “Thank you,” Leah says quietly just before we get back to the house.

  Later that night, I bed down on the couch with just a lumpy pillow and a sheet. I hear George move through the house heading to the kitchen, and he sees me and comes over, grin stretching from ear to ear.

  “Comfy?”

  Not hardly. The couch isn’t near long enough and my feet stick off the end. When I helped Emily with her furniture shopping, it never occurred to me to get her a couch that I could sleep on. I grit my teeth, thinking of Leah tucked into the king-sized bed in my room. She’s probably sleeping like a baby.

  “Very comfy,” I growl. “Thanks for asking.”

  “Both Em and I really like Leah. She’s feisty. Her daddy was the same way. Real ass-kicker. That’s probably why he didn’t get a second term. Because he wasn’t political.”

  “I’m pretty sure no one’s ever called Leah an ass-kicker.”

  He points to his head. “It’s the red hair. If you wanted a woman you could boss around, you shoulda married a brunette.”

  Great. Just what I need. Marriage advice from the man who married the only girl he ever kissed.

  “Well, I’m sorta stuck now.”

  He laughs at this, so hard that his shoulders shake. I’m sure he loves the idea that Leah’s giving me hell. He doesn’t even care what the reason is, not that I’d tell him. He just loves that my ass is out on the couch and it’s because some hundred and nine pound woman told me how it was going to be.

  “I’m just giving you a bad time, Riley. Leah’s a cutie-pie. I’m glad you’ve found someone who’s not afraid to stand up to you.”

  “Leah’s clearly not afraid.”

  “What does she think about your fighting?”

  “She hates it.”

  “Good girl. Like her even more. Need a blanket or anything?” he offers.

  A blanket is not what I need. What I need is to be in my bed. With Leah. Anything less than that is going to mean a shit night of sleep. I’m tired of being around her and not being able at least be able to hold her or touch her.

  I sigh with irritation. “No blanket. I’m good.”

  “All right then. Good night, son.”

  “G’night, Pops.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Leah

  The next morning I get up early and help Emily with breakfast. She doesn’t believe in cereal or something simple for the most important meal
of the day. No, it’s eggs, sausage, and biscuits. I pour a cup of coffee, black, the way Riley likes it, and head into the den to see if I can rouse him.

  Riley is sprawled on the couch, dwarfing it with his immense frame. He sleeps in a pair of pajama bottoms that hug his narrow waist. His chest is bare and this is the first time I’ve seen him without a shirt. Ever. The expanse of his chest invites my touch and I want nothing more than to caress him and trace the grooves of his abs.

  Everything about him demonstrates power and strength. When he moves he has the grace of a cat. Even though he’s big, his motions are fluid and graceful. He sleeps with one arm over his head. His jaw is stubbled with a short beard and he looks dangerous even though he’s sleeping. I know he’s mad at me and I worry that he’s going to give me grief. Suddenly, waking him doesn’t seem like a good idea.

  Yesterday I tossed him out of his own room. And I slapped him. I was angry. I’ve never slapped anyone in my life and don’t really approve of smacking people, but Riley knows how to push my buttons.

  His eyes open and he stares at me while a growl rumbles through his chest.

  “Did you sleep well?” I ask.

  “No.”

  I bite my lip and let my gaze wander down his body. He doesn’t look comfortable. Not at all. I should have offered to be the one sleeping on the couch.

  “I don’t want to sleep with you before the fight,” I tell him. The idea of staying away from women before a fight seemed like pure superstition, but now that I watch him prepare for a fight, superstition sounds just fine to me. I’m in. Totally. I’ll do anything to have his last fight end well.

  We eat breakfast together in the big sunny breakfast room. The walls are filled with photographs of Riley, starting when he was in middle school. He scowls in all the early pictures, glares into the camera as if daring the photographer to suggest he smile. The older pictures show a different story. In those images, he’s smiling. A few are from football, one is of him reeling in a fish, and one is with Emily and George at the Grand Canyon.