by Violet Paige
The three semesters of Portuguese I took in college didn’t necessarily prepare me for nearly a month in Brazil, but I had brushed up on a few podcasts during my morning runs before I flew out.
“Oi,” I greeted the girl behind the counter.
She smiled at me. “What for today?” she asked.
Even though her sentences were mixed up, her accent was beautiful. I doubted I sounded that sexy trying to speak her language.
I looked at the menu scribbled in chalk next to the register.
“Do you have anything for jet lag?”
She looked at me questioningly.
“Travel sickness?” I tried again. I had no idea how to translate the concept. “Time change?”
“Ahh.” She nodded. “Bee pollen. Lots of energy. Make you feel better.”
“Sure. I’ll take a mango smoothie with bee pollen.” I placed my order, hoping the Rio bees had something that would shake this feeling.
She started working on my drink, measuring and pouring.
“Lots of ice,” I added. I didn’t know the Portuguese word for ice, but she tossed in another scoop. I could only imagine how many times a day Americans walked in asking for more ice.
I discovered this quirky café my first night in the city. It was too freakin’ hot for coffee. Big, lazy fans spun overhead as I waited.
Maybe it was because I was an American I was so impatient, or maybe it was the sweat dripping down my neck that made me irritable, but it felt as if the girl was making my drink in slow motion. I teetered between my feet, drooling over the bucket of ice on the counter.
I considered asking her if it was for sale.
And that was when Blaine Crews walked in.
3
Blaine
I pushed through the door to the juice café on the outskirts of the Olympic village. It was blistering hot. Hotter than fuck. Jim had tried to run me hard in the gym, but he couldn’t distract me from the pool. It was still closed, and we hadn’t gotten an update.
I stopped two feet short of the counter when I looked up. My eyes locked on those crystal baby blues of hers and my chest seized. Ava.
What the fuck was she doing here?
I thought she might pretend she didn’t see me. But other than the girl making a drink, we were the only two in this place. There was nowhere to hide. I thought about turning around and walking back out the door. It was what I should have done.
She pressed her pouty lips together. Shit, she was beautiful. Everything in me tensed.
“Hi,” she greeted me quietly.
“Didn’t know you would be here.”
“At the Olympics or in this bar?” she smarted off.
I folded my arms. “Don’t tell me you’re pissed, sweetheart.”
“Me? Why would I be?”
“No reason.”
I could tell she wanted to say something. Her eyes flickered.
“Order.” The girl behind the counter placed a frozen drink on the counter.
Ava spun around. “Obrigado.”
“You speak Portuguese?” I asked, suddenly curious about what her tongue could do.
“There’s a lot you didn’t bother to get to know about me. You didn’t stick around long enough.” There was more than an edge of bitterness in her voice. She was hostile. I could feel the anger radiating off her skin.
She shoved past me on the way to the door.
I grabbed her by the elbow before she was out of reach. “Hold on. That’s not fair.”
“Let go, Blaine.”
I hadn’t forgotten. She was right—I hadn’t been fair. But I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing it.
My fingers slowly uncurled from her arm. “Just thought we could have a drink.”
She huffed. “Yeah, I know how that goes with you.”
“What? You didn’t have a good time?” I winked. We both knew the answer. I’d heard sounds from those luscious lips that night that had haunted my dreams ever since.
I saw the blood rush to her cheeks. She remembered too.
“I didn’t say that,” she whispered, trying to keep the conversation private.
I shrugged. “Then what’s the problem? You’re in Rio. I’m in Rio.”
She chewed her bottom lip, driving me crazy. Suddenly, running into this American spitfire seemed like the answer to my pent-up energy. I couldn’t swim today, but I knew what a night with her was like.
I studied her blue eyes. Ava had long legs that were sun-kissed from her heels to her sweet paradise. She had a graceful way of swinging her auburn hair off her shoulders. She was gorgeous and sexy. And fucking smart. The girl knew her sports shit.
“The problem is I’m not one of your swim groupies. I’m not one of those girls who follows you around.”
“Hey, I like those girls too.”
Her eyes flared. “Then go find one of them to screw over.”
“Ava.” My voice echoed in the café. Was it possible to convince her she was the kind of distraction I needed? The perfect workout for my body.
“Looks like you’ve landed on your feet again like a roo after—”
“Don’t try to pretend that you care what happened to me.” She stopped me.
“I did care. I do.” I breathed. “Did things work out with Sports Now?”
“No. I have a new job.” She closed her eyes. “I have work to do. I need to go. Good luck, Blaine. Really. I hope you do well. I’m sure you’ll sweep the gold. Everyone is talking about it.”
“Since there’s no pool to swim in I don’t see how that’s going to happen,” I grumbled.
“What? What are you talking about?” Her tone quickly changed.
My brow furrowed just thinking about it. “The damn pool is closed for repairs. I can’t get in for laps.”
“What? That’s ludicrous. It has to be open.” Suddenly, she seemed interested in what I had to say. I saw her shoulders relax and she spun to face me, squaring off her shoulders.
“It’s not. Bastards closed it for a broken valve or some shit. I can’t seem to get any answers.”
“What about the diving pools? Will they let you in there?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No. Booked with divers. My coach tried. It’s going to be at least another day before I can swim.”
My fingers tingled. My back tensed. I had a full day of no swimming in front of me, and I had just run into the best fuck of my life. It was starting to feel like the Olympic gods had put her in my path for a reason. I wanted those tan legs wrapped around my waist. Didn’t she know she could solve all my problems with one good fuck? Okay, maybe two.
“Does anyone on the committee know?”
She touched the straw to her lips and sucked slowly. God, she was killing me. My eyes trailed over the smoothness of her throat and landed between her breasts. Damn, she had great tits. I had to restrain the dirty thoughts in my head and answer her.
“Not yet. But I’m going to file a complaint.”
“What if I could help you get their attention?”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I work for the American PR firm handling the press for the Olympics. I could get a story out there for you. Tell everyone what’s happening to all the swimmers.” She paused. “Not just the world’s favorite Australian asshole.”
I whistled. “Such strong language for a pretty mouth.”
She cocked her head slightly, waiting for a real answer. “If you’re not interested, just say so. I have to find a PR story to get to my boss by five. I don’t have time for this, Blaine.”
“Wait, wait.” My hand instinctively wrapped the curve of her waist.
There was still an ember between us. It just need to be stoked a little, and I’d have her back in my bed. I saw this as a complete win-win. The press would pick up my story. I’d get to fuck a gorgeous woman. Tomorrow, I’d be back in the pool.
“I think we could work something out.” I smiled at her.
“This
isn’t some kind of negotiation. It’s not last time.” She eyed me. “I’ll listen if you want to tell me what happened and I’ll write a piece for it. That’s it.”
“I seem to remember last time you had a pretty good time.”
“We’re not talking about it. That’s rule number one.”
I shook my head. “Rules? You’ve got rules now? I forgot it took a while before you stopped being so uptight. But once you did… Holy fuck, Ava.” I chuckled when I saw her cheeks turn crimson.
“Shut up. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” She stormed out of the café, carrying her drink, and blazed a path into the sun.
I jogged after her. “Ava, I’m kidding. I won’t mention it.”
She kept walking even when I caught up to her. “Go back to the village, Blaine. One of the groupies would be excited to spend time with you. I’m sorry I ran into you.”
“Don’t say that. It was Olympic destiny, don’t you think?”
She huffed. “No, I think you’re a dick. And I never should have slept with you. I’m not making that mistake again. Forget I mentioned the PR offer. It has officially been rescinded.”
Damn. She was making this hard. And my cock too.
“Thought you wanted to help me.” I tried to stoke the flame.
“Changed my mind.” She paused to sip the smoothie.
“Change it back,” I growled. “And stop telling me to rack off.”
“Rack off?” Her brows knitted together in confusion.
“Yeah, you know, get out of here.”
I could tell she was trying not to smile, but it happened anyway. “I don’t think I’ll ever get all those Australian sayings.”
“And I don’t think I’ll ever get all of your American ones.”
I could see it. She was considering it. The walls were coming down.
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” she grumbled.
I slung a heavy arm around her shoulder as if she were an old friend, not the woman I lusted over for the past month. “Never, baby.”
She rolled her eyes, tossing my arm from her body. “No calling me baby. None of those weird animal names either. None of that Australian stuff. This is a professional interview. You’re not getting back in my pants.”
“Aren’t you wearing a skirt?” I glanced toward the tops of her thighs and followed the lines to the fabric hugging her ass.
She huffed. “Seriously?”
I laughed. “Calm down, I’ll do the interview.”
“The interview isn’t what I’m worried about.”
I felt the challenge. The thrill of the chase in front of me. It might have been a month since I had taken Ava to bed, but we’d be back there in a matter of hours. I’d forget I wasn’t in the water. I’d forget I was pissed as hell. I’d forget everything but how fucking amazing she was.
4
Ava
It was clear the Rio heat had melted not only my brain but my panties. I was walking down the sidewalk with Blaine Crews. How had this happened?
He was a reminder of everything I shouldn’t do.
A drunken night. Blurring the lines of my professional code. Getting my hopes up that he wasn’t a playboy like everyone said he was. Drinking too many dark Australian beers and being seduced by his green eyes, sculpted arms, and that accent, and I wasn’t going to make any other decision but go home with him.
It was stupid. I knew it was when it happened.
I’d practically memorized every word. Every move. Every look he made. And replayed them a thousand times in my head since that night. I was never going to forget how it felt to be with him. Never.
Blaine had the kind of eyes that made my knees weak and my heart beat against my chest when I knew it shouldn’t. I couldn’t look away even when I willed myself to turn my head. It was the damn dark eyelashes that made his eyes sexy, sinful, and the window to every mistake I would make.
“So is it going to be your place or mine?”
Blaine’s voice shook me from my fog.
“What?”
“Where are we going, love? Your place or mine?”
My breath caught. That wasn’t happening. I couldn’t be alone in a room with this man. Not if there was a bed there. One look and I’d fold.
“Hotel lobby?” I suggested.
“Aww, not what I was thinking.”
“Then stop thinking it,” I scolded. Shit, I sounded like a prude. Like a ridiculous, over anxious prude.
This was what Blaine did to me. He made me lose my senses. My control. My mind. My body.
We continued to walk in silence toward the hotel where I was staying. I saw the phones emerge as we walked. The tourists and locals knew who he was. I waited while a few fans stopped him to take selfies.
There was a small lobby and a bar in the front entrance of the hotel. I hoped it was empty in the middle of the afternoon. By tonight, the bar would be full and I didn’t want anyone to find out about my story with Blaine before I got it in to Vic.
I knew this was exactly what my boss told me not to do, but how could I turn a blind eye to such a big story? I was standing next to the most famous swimmer in the world, and he wasn’t in the pool training for the Olympics.
That was a story.
People needed to know. The world deserved to hear what was happening at the games.
Vic might not choose my piece at first, but if he read it he might change his mind. I could guarantee no one else on the team had scored an interview with a star athlete like Blaine. This could be huge for me.
“This is where you’re staying?” Blaine eyed the small hotel.
“Rio’s best.”
“I should give you a tour of the village.” He pushed the door open for me.
I felt a brief gust of air, but it seemed to escape out the door. I watched as the invisible cloud vanished and we were engulfed by the warm air of the lobby.
“Why? Something wrong in the village?” Blaine could be a source for more than one story.
“No, it’s a hell of a lot nicer than this place.”
“Oh.” I was surprised.
So far, Rio hadn’t impressed me with the accommodations. I knew if I had traveled on my own I would have had a different experience, but I was here on the company’s expense and they weren’t going to blow the travel budget on five-star hotels and meals. This wasn’t Sports Now. All the rules were different.
I was basically a contractor—I needed to remember that.
He leaned toward my ear. “And there’s AC.”
“Oh God,” I gulped. It was the combination of Blaine’s breath over my skin and the thought of not being hot to the touch. The Olympic village sounded like paradise right now.
“Think you might want to change your mind?” He tempted me.
I shook my head. I had to stay strong and apparently very, very hot. “I think this place is charming. Plus, there’s no one here. I’m sure the village is crowded. I don’t want your story getting out before I have a chance to write it.”
He shrugged his enormous shoulders. Blaine didn’t have the shoulders of an ordinary man. His were crafted to perfection. Every muscle and every tendon was toned and shaped to make him the fastest, most powerful swimmer in the world. I shuddered with a sudden sweep of desire at the thought of those sculpted ridges hovering over me. Damn it. They reminded me of what the rest of him looked like. Oh, that deep V twisting around his torso—God, I wasn’t going to be able to do this.
I slid into one of the open tables and tried to organize my notepad. There were only a few sips of my smoothie left, but the condensation managed to make a puddle on the table.
“How about I get us some drinks while you get set up? I think that chap could help us out.” He pointed to the bartender.
“Sure. Whatever.”
I scrolled through my notes from this morning’s meeting until I had a blank page. I had a recorder, but I didn’t trust it. It had eaten interviews on more than one occasion. I stuck to th
e pen and paper method after the last time. This was too important to take a chance.
A few minutes later, Blaine returned to the table with a couple of drinks.
“What are those?” I asked, staring at the frosted glasses filled with lime wedges and ice.
“Caipirinhas,” he replied.
“What?” My mouth watered at the sight of the ice.
“The chap said they’re the drink of Brazil. Made it with cachaça, or however you pronounce it.”
I covered my mouth to keep from laughing at how his Australian accent butchered the Portuguese word. It was cute, sexy, and all the things I wasn’t supposed to notice. I doubted Blaine ever wanted to be considered cute. He wasn’t that kind of man.
At six-five he towered over almost anyone in the room.
“I didn’t think you liked to drink during competition.” I hadn’t decided if I was going to try mine yet. Alcohol and Blaine were a dangerous combination.
He picked up the glass. “It’s hot as fuck outside. I’m bored. I’m in Rio. Why not?”
I watched as his throat moved from each swallow. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his neck. I licked my lips. I wanted to trace over his skin with my tongue. Holy shit—where were these wicked thoughts coming from?
“Aren’t you going to drink yours?” he asked.
I nodded more vigorously than I meant to. I picked up the frosted glass and tasted the sweet lime concoction. It was delicious and refreshing in this heat.
“Thank you.”
“What about that interview?” He smiled, showing me the brilliance of his white teeth.
“Right. The interview.”
I tried to focus on the page. Whatever was in that drink was strong. I was suddenly conscious of the way Blaine stared at my lips. Every once in a while I noticed how his eyes dipped to my breasts. It was as if he was trying to stare through the fabric and catch a glimpse of my skin.
I had to get it together—at least enough to ask him a few sensible questions and get out of this bar. Alone.
“Okay, so why don’t you tell me when you first discovered the pool was closed.”