He shook his head. God, was he enjoying this? “Don’t do it,” he warned. Something more than amusement was in his tone, but before Sophie could put her finger on it, Pete made a serious attitude adjustment, changing from aggressive ass to obsessive ass.
“Hey, man. I’m a huge fan. Didn’t mean to cause any trouble here. I’ll just be going...” He turned quickly on his mud-crusted boots. Sophie moved even quicker, and snatched her expensive nightgown out of his filthy grasp before he trotted off. This garment was not going to join the trail of undies senselessly thrown onto the highway.
Caden’s eyebrows lifted, bemused. “Jesus, one surprise after another with you. Pure trouble,” he remarked, before finally deciding to form a complete sentence. “Good thing I caught your wave, sweetheart,” he murmured sarcastically.
Without waiting for her to respond, he retrieved his luggage from the back seat and popped the trunk. His biceps flexed as hefted his suitcase and carried it to the back of the car.
Muscles that big and on a body that tight should come with a warning sign. Holy stud alert. “Didn’t even get my coffee,” he grumbled, unaware of her perusal.
Her mouth went dry.
“Hmph, cat caught your tongue for a change?” He stopped and peered at her more closely. The sun seemed hotter, like it was midday instead of 7:00 a.m. “You might be a nuisance, but nothing was going to happen to you.”
“Damn straight.” Gosh, he had her cursing now. It was well worth it though, when a generous, panty-wetting smile crossed his face.
“That’s what I like about you, Morelle. You’ve got gumption.” Caden turned away.
Sophie couldn’t stop herself from basking in the warmth of his compliment, a feeling akin to her certain reaction if he’d signed on for an exclusive interview. Softening her in a way only a woman can be softened when garnered with hot male attention. And in the afterglow, she soaked up every little bit about him. The way he filled a T-shirt like nobody’s business. The tightness of his buns in those faded jeans. There was so much more to Caden than a pretty face, but boy-oh-boy did his body just do it for her. Like that drool-worthy biceps...
Caden froze, suitcase hoisted midair. His whole attitude changed from laid-back beach bum to scowling fighter. Exactly the reaction she’d been expecting a moment earlier—which is why the change in him caused her breath to catch.
“What the fuck is this doing—?”
Sophie’s eyebrows shot up. She tried to peer around him to see what was in the trunk, figure out what caused the sudden shift in him, but his big body blocked her view.
Stepping back, he slammed the trunk shut with his elbow. The sound of metal on metal echoed off the broken asphalt. Shooting her a deadly look, as if daring her to comment, he pitched his suitcase into the back seat. Without further explanation for his mood swing, he climbed into the car.
The Aston Martin roared to life.
Sophie stood there, stunned and immobile, trying to reconcile what just transpired. It felt like someone had jerked a rug out from under her while she’d been dancing. And singing. And just realizing the possibilities of the hunk before her.
Her gaze fell on the closed trunk and her investigative instincts kicked in. What exactly had he’d seen inside that had caused such a harsh reaction?
“You’ve got two seconds until goodbye,” she heard him growl, his voice hard as steel.
Sophie squared her shoulders and walked calmly over to the passenger door.
Goodbye was not going to happen, not by a long shot.
Just like James Bond always got his woman, Sophie Morelle was going to get her man, and his story. And, she was beginning to think, maybe even something else.
Chapter Six
SLICK SUBMISSION: When a fighter gives up and uses hair gel
Sophie kept her lips pressed tight and held back a smile as her visual on the Park-n-Ride disappeared from the rearview mirror. She pretended to stretch her neck, angling her head for a better view of the man next to her so she could scan his features from beneath her lashes. Trying to decide if whatever preoccupied Caden’s thoughts had made him forgetful or, better still, want her along for the ride.
Hard to say, with his nondescript poker face and the mirrored sunglasses hiding his expression. No telltale signs for the reasons behind his sudden change of heart. His laid-back, laissez-faire attitude had changed as well, replaced by a palpable tension in the air between them. What was in the trunk that had him so riled up? Her curiosity had been piqued but with him scowling and taking the onramp at this asinine speed, she thought better of questioning him about it. She’d bide her time and wait for him to initiate the conversation. Instead, she’d relax and enjoy the ride. She glanced at the odometer and grimaced. Eighty-eight miles per hour.
Sophie slipped off her heels and reclined into the safety of the comfortable leather bucket seat. Forced herself to relax by studying the massive expanse of Missouri sky. Like one endless blue blanket with an occasional worn white patch—it never ceased to amaze her. Nothing like the gray Pittsburgh skyline, littered with mountains and row after row of skyscrapers. Out here, the world was never ending.
Such a long time had passed since she’d watched the scenery drift by. Deadlines had to be met, celebrities lined up for interviews, ratings maintained. Who had time for a mental nature walk?
The Aston Martin flew by mile after mile of farmland, interrupted by the occasional small town. Quiet. Uneventful. Almost peaceful, the silence broken only by the rushing wind and the sound of Caden’s fingers tapping the leather steering wheel. They skirted around Kansas City, Missouri and crossed into Kansas.
“Fuck.”
Sophie jumped in her seat, surprised. Glancing toward Caden, she waited for him to continue. But it seemed that one word was it. Great.
The scenery had changed and become more commercial, with multiple gas stations and self-storage units. The latter made her smile, finding humor in the thought that even with such an abundance of space, people didn’t have enough storage room. Sophie thought about the damage she could do renting one of them, for shoes alone. Her mood lightened, and lightened further when she spotted the large billboard up ahead. This time, traffic wasn’t backed up for miles.
Instinctively, her eyes rose.
Take a gander at this, Dorothy.
Her heartbeat thumped into overdrive, having forgotten just how large...She snapped her attention back onto a faded, orange Rent-a-Unit sign and prayed to God Caden hadn’t noticed her gawking at his billboard.
Caden grunted, and Sophie fell back into her seat as he gunned the gas pedal.
“Your luggage is at the hotel?”
“What?” His abrupt question caught her off-guard. Luggage? Really?
“Your stuff, is it at the hotel?”
She frowned. “Why would I leave my suitcases behind? Sal took them both and secured them under the bus...I hope,” she muttered the last part, worried the Boys had decided to scatter her clothing across the Midwest. Having one pair of underwear—two if you counted the pair Caden had stuffed inside his pocket—plus one skimpy nightie was a problem. But having no clothing whatsoever would really suck eggs.
Who knew how long she’d have before the network spotted the charges on her corporate card? She’d had her excuse already formulated in case they challenged her, that a month left on that no-compete clause meant an additional month of credit, right? So far she’d been able to charge food and the hotel room fees without issue. But a quick shopping spree would draw too much attention to the fact she still had an active card, one they’d be cancelling quicker than you could say “dang-diggity.” Then what would she do? Besides, Sophie’d rather die or do something really unpleasant than have people see her in a cheesy tourist T-shirt and Chucks, should she decide on a shopping spree at some cheap Midwestern truck stop.
“And that’s everything?” His tone of his voice was anything but playful, which was fine with Sophie because the reminder of her undergarment status really set her off. Patting her pocket, she stated, irritably, “You know darn well what happened to my lingerie suitcase. In fact, you have something of mine. Hand it over.”
The tightness around his beautiful jawline disappeared. Dang. If mentioning her thong was all it took to snuff out the tension in him, she’d have brought it up a lot sooner. Her cheeks warmed. Uncharacteristically so—Sophie Morelle had had more conversations about underwear than she could count. But the man next to her had gotten under her skin in a way she hadn’t expected.
“What do you want from me?” he demanded mildly, turning her way. He’d shifted his sunglasses up onto his head and he pinned her with his gaze.
What do I want from him? Her libido pulled an Aston Martin, hustling forward from zero to 120 mph in one second flat.
“Uh...an interview.” Her voice sounded hoarse. A sure sign of the blatant lie she was feeding him. Oh, she wanted the interview. And her thong back. But at that moment, her entire body warmed from wanting him, from the tips of her toes, between her legs, up her chest, and into her cheeks. So hot for him she contemplated adding the word naked to her interview request. Great, just great. A naked interview? The thought only made her warmer.
“Man alive.” He shook his head. “Okay.”
“Okay to what?” she blurted out, disturbed her thoughts had been that transparent.
“I’ll give it to you...an exclusive. Shoot.”
Dang-diggity. Sex was Caden’s weapon, one he wielded subtly yet expertly. For the second time within twenty-four hours, she caught herself being lured in by his sexcapades. Jeez, he must think her gullible.
“Bull crap.”
He laughed. “Bull crap? That’s hardly a word. Bullshit, now that’s better.”
“Don’t change the subject. Do I have the word sucker tattooed on my forehead?”
“Sucker, huh?” He cocked his head and shot her a naughty smile.
Holy crapola. Why did it have to be him—the playboy panty peddler with a grin that’d melt the iciest of hearts—she was counting on to be her featured fighter?
“I swear to God, if you are playing me the way you did last night...” Her voice trailed off as she bent forward, grabbed her purse, and retrieved her notepad, still doubtful he meant what he’d said and that her exclusive would soon be underway. Still, the familiar motions jarred her back into reporter mode. She wondered at his abrupt shift back into the easygoing player she’d expected. Something had been bothering him. But whatever it had been was gone.
He didn’t answer her. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of gum, and offered her a piece. When she declined, he popped the stick into his mouth.
A giddiness washed over her, making her breathless. For whatever reason, Caden was giving her an interview. Scoring an exclusive with the very man who’d ruined her career, by making amends with their past, by showing the world that all had been forgiven, she’d find redemption in the public eye. Sure, reporters would put a scandalous spin on it. In her experience, negative press drew as much attention, if not more, than a positive, upbeat review. Fans—not to mention her former employers—were going to get a gander at the new Sophie Morelle, the investigative journalist who’d outmaneuvered every major network by getting the inside scoop on Caden Kelly.
Better begin before Caden changed his mind. She started out strong. “What made you want to come back to the Mixed Martial Arts world when you were in the middle of such a huge...um...amazing modeling career?”
“Next question.”
“What’s wrong with the first one?”
“Tell you what. I’ll give you the lowdown on what this is gonna be about,” he replied, his voice going deep and gravelly, like he’d just woken up.
Whose interview was this? She’d best establish exactly who was the interviewer and who was the interviewee. “My documentary is going to provide a series of insightful glimpses into the day to day life of an MMA fighter. You’re rumored to be ruthless in the cage, right? A top contender for the title. Out to prove you’re the toughest fighter in the country. I plan on shooting an in-depth look at the makings of an ultimate fighter, with you as the featured star. Show viewers why someone would put a lucrative career in jeopardy by getting his face bashed in. Why MMA? What makes a guy like you, with a huge modeling contract, risk his handsome assets for a chance to fight in Tetnus? You’ll be the main feature, the comeback kid. That’s the angle I’m going for.”
“What about drugs?”
Talk about coming out of left field. What was he saying that she thought the Boys were a bunch of coked up warriors? Doubtful. No one would be that fit without having some self-discipline, and sitting around dropping acid didn’t exactly fit the bill.
Caden shot her an assessing look, reminiscent of his earlier dark mood before the tight line of his lips relaxed. “Forget it. Let’s talk about sex. How much I like it. Often. What a woman’s face looks like after working my tongue over her sweetness.”
Curse the man! Sophie wiggled uncomfortably in her seat.
“Honey, I assume you’ve read the tabloids. True, most of it.”
She flipped through the blank pages of her notebook, the lines swimming before her as she tried to quiet the furious pounding of her heart. “Hmph, three women in one bed. They don’t make mattresses that big,” she challenged, grabbing her pen a bit too tightly.
“Bent over the bed, not in it.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” she shot back, but not before he grinned at the reddening of her cheeks.
“The most pleasurable kind.”
“Care to elaborate?” Sophie drew spiraling lines on her notepad. Even they seemed indecent, forming the bit of male anatomy she was so desperately trying forget about. She could feel his stare, assessing her response. She knew his intention was to get a rise out of her by the way he’d said pleasurable, the word rolling off his tongue as if he was about to pull the Aston Martin over and demonstrate the definition.
“I like to get down and dirty. Kinky too.”
Sophie snorted, trying to sound unaffected. “The American public is well versed in your kinky liaisons—that Victoria’s Secret model was quite candid in her interview. Leather restraints and tethers.”
“Caroline loved to play the submissive to my—”
“No, the other model, the one with the breast implants gone wild.”
“So you have been following my career.”
“Listen, sweetheart, you’re a hard man to miss. Between the crotch shots on billboards in every major city and the tabloid headlines, it’s safe to say everyone from New York to San Francisco knows the intimate details of your sexual escapades.” Perfect. She was starting to sound like her good ole self.
“Not everything, sweetheart. Maybe it’s time for a slight detour.” He stepped off the accelerator and shifted into the slowpoke lane.
Sophie tried to not let him frazzle her. “I’ve got your number, you know.”
“Yeah, what number is that?”
“You’re deflecting.”
Caden struggled to keep his smug grin. The instincts that had carried her so far in her career seemed to have struck a home run.
“Care to elaborate, Sophie? You wanna fill me in on something I don’t know?”
What could she possibly tell this walking sex bomb about sex that he didn’t already know? It was like comparing a Hollywood starlet’s love life to that of a Girl Scout troop mother.
“Wild stuff, kinky acts, quickies, these aren’t the most satisfying kinds of sex.” She gave a mental chuckle. The very voice of inexperience was speaking to Mr. Sexpert about the downsides of wild sex.
What Caden didn’t know was
that the real Sophie Morelle had spent the better part of her adult years shying away from anything but predictable, comfortable sex—without complicated issues like intimacy.
“Putting ideas in my head, darling?” He gestured toward the dashboard clock. “We’ve got time, you know.”
“Deflecto-mundo. What are you hiding from?”
Caden glanced at himself in the rearview mirror, then turned his focus back to the roadway.
“I’m sitting right here next to you, aren’t I?”
He took the exit ramp slowly. Purposefully. Trying to throw her game. A Best Western sign caught her attention.
To her relief and utter disappointment, Caden pulled into a gas station. He didn’t wait for her to comment. “Fill ’er up,” he told her, tossing a few twenties onto her lap and striding off into the station convenience store.
Curse the man. His shock-jock approach had gotten him out of her interviewing him once again, and there’d been nothing she could have done about it, aside from stripping down naked and calling him out on his calculated innuendos. She watched him disappear into the building, so sure and confident. Yet, her instincts told her she was correct—something was up with him. All this talk about sex had been a smokescreen.
All Sophie needed to do was get to the bottom of it and uncover the real Caden Kelly.
* * *
Caden almost left her behind at the rest stop. Sophie was too smart for her own good. Pure trouble, and just the nosy, inquisitive, and damn-too-perceptive person he didn’t want as travel companion.
Not with a duffel full of drugs and syringes stashed in his trunk.
He looked over at her, his thoughts well concealed beneath his Oakleys. She didn’t look like a steroid-toting queen or that she knew the stash even existed. Sure, her stowing away in his car the same time the drugs appeared was suspicious.
She uncrossed and recrossed her bare ankles, having slipped off those killer heels, as she studied the passing scenery. Sexy ankles, the flash of skin drawing his interest. Not his usual mode of operation, granted, but from the way she’d turned in the seat, he couldn’t check out her chest. Not that he’d find the swell of her tits inside that conservative blouse.
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