Kick It Up

by Carol Ericson

  Chapter Four

  Bloody hell! His gut knotted and his mouth went drier than a shovel full of beach sand. He dropped the arm that had failed to keep them out, and sprinted across the parking lot, his trainers slipping on the sand-coated asphalt. By the time he reached the beach, he spotted his car by the water’s edge, white foam rushing around the front tires before bubbling back out to the ocean. He cupped his hand at the side of his mouth and yelled,

  “Jessica!”

  The driver’s side door of the low-slung car swung open and hit the wet sand. With his heart thudding in his chest, he loped toward the water. Jessica’s long legs unfurled from the car, and she staggered to her feet. She looked okay, no blood, no moaning, all limbs in place.

  A wave rushed in, soaking his shoes and grabbing at his pant legs, but he slogged through the water to reach Jessica’s side. “Are you all right? You’re not hurt anywhere?”

  “Oh Simon, I’m so sorry. I messed up your beautiful new car.” She leaned against the Ferrari and covered her face. “I’m such a loser. I can’t be trusted with anything.” He pried her hands from her face and pulled her into his arms. “Don’t be daft. As long as you’re okay, I don’t care about the car.”

  She sobbed against his shoulder, and he tucked a silky lock of hair behind her ear. She seemed to be overreacting a little. Must be the shock of almost driving into the ocean.

  The car was still upright and didn’t look in any danger of being swept out to sea. He curled an arm around her waist to urge her up to dry sand, but her feet seemed rooted.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of this water.” She wailed, “I can’t. My heels are stuck in the wet sand.”

  He glanced at her boots, almost buried in the sand, and laughed. “You’re right.” He crouched down and lifted first one of her legs and then the other. While he was down there, he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her back up the beach.

  He plopped her down on the sand and sank next to her.

  “I hope you have a mobile phone in your handbag. We’d better get the car out of there before the tide comes in any further.”

  She rubbed the back of her hand across her nose, leaving a sandy mustache. “You’re not upset?”

  “It’s just a car. I’m glad you’re not hurt. What happened?” He brushed the sleeve of his very expensive shirt under her nose, wiping it clean.

  Despite the big tear meandering down her cheek, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I put it in gear and eased my foot on the accelerator, but the sound of the engine startled me so I pulled my foot back. I think my heel got caught on the mat because my foot slammed forward, and the car took off.”

  “That car careening across the beach looked like something I’d do on purpose.”

  “I’m really sorry, Simon. I hope there’s not too much damage.” Reaching for her handbag, she sighed.

  “As long as there’s no damage to you.”

  “You really mean that?” Her hand stopped groping.

  Why did she find it so hard to fathom that he cared more about her than his car? He must’ve really come off as a shallow bloke. Did that surprise him? It’s the image he fostered. Never let ‘em think you care about much of anything – easier to shake off when you fail. Even with women. Especially with women.

  “I already knew the car was okay.” He smoothed back a strand of hair stuck to her wet cheek.

  She rolled her eyes and punched a few buttons on her mobile. After chatting to a roadside service for several minutes, she tucked the phone into her pocket. “They’ll be here in about fifteen minutes, but they’re bringing the cops with them.”

  “The cops?”

  “This is a rather unusual situation, and we’re not even supposed to be here.” She shook her finger at him. “I had a bad feeling about this from the start, but would you listen to me?”

  “The car would’ve been safely in the parking lot,” he grabbed her finger, “and we’d be enjoying the view right now had you not gotten a lead foot.”

  She snatched her finger away and spread her arms wide. “You call this a view? It’s dark.” He huddled next to her, enjoying her warm, exotic scent, like rose petals scattered on a sun-baked walkway.

  He pointed to the hills rising to the north, curving around the water like a protective arm.

  “Sure there’s a view – the dark hills carving out shapes in the sky, the crescent moon, the smattering of stars, and those white streaks in the water. If you watch them long enough, you can detect a phosphorescent glow.” Her hand dropped to his thigh as she leaned against him and stared into the water. Her hair tickled his chin, which he rubbed against her head, allowing the strands of her hair to cling to his stubble. He draped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her even closer. A sigh escaped her lips.

  “I see it, a greenish glow just before the wave crashes on the beach.” Her low voice had a hushed quality.

  She turned toward him, and the wonder in her eyes sucked the air from his lungs. He traced her mouth with his fingertip, and then cupped her face to draw her in for a kiss.

  She tasted sweet and salty and irresistible. He deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue while she clung to his neck.

  He shifted to accommodate his growing erection when the night sky lit up with red and blue revolving lights and a man on a loudspeaker called out, “This is the police. Stop what you’re doing.”

  ***

  Jessica pulled away from the warm tongue invading her mouth. This couldn’t be happening. She just got Simon exactly where she’d wanted him since the moment he stepped off that plane looking like a slightly dazed, conquering hero. Now even the cops had license to interfere in her love life?

  Simon pushed up from the sand and shielded his eyes against the white glare of a spotlight beaming a circle on the beach. A flat-bed truck rumbled to a stop at the edge of the parking lot. Jessica jumped up beside Simon and waved her arms. “Our car got stuck in the sand.” Two uniformed sheriff’s deputies trudged toward them, their flashlights playing over the sand. The tow truck driver followed them, shaking his head.

  The younger cop raised his eyebrows. “How’d you get out here? The parking arm’s not even broken.” Simon jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the car still wading in the surf. “It’s a Ferrari. We squeezed under the arm.”

  The more seasoned deputy chuckled. “How’d the car get down to the water?”

  “Long story.” She blew out a breath. “All my fault, I mean if you have to ticket somebody.”

  “If you have to ticket somebody, ticket me. It’s my car.” Simon grabbed her hand and squeezed.

  The young officer shined his light in Simon’s face.

  “Aren’t you Simon Bosford, the English soccer player?”

  The driver turned and headed back to his truck.

  “Yeah, I am. Do you like...soccer?”

  “I’m beginning to like it. My son plays, and I promised him I’d coach his team next season.”

  “That’s brilliant. Do you want some tips?” The other deputy turned and waved to the truck driver, now engaged in conversation with the driver of a small white car that had pulled into the parking lot.

  “Since you didn’t do any damage and nobody was hurt, we’ll let you off this time, Mr. Bosford. We’ll excuse you on the basis of being a new driver in a country with different road rules than your own.”

  Jessica opened her mouth, but Simon squeezed her hand harder. “I appreciate that, officer.” The flat-bed truck backed up on the sand, a methodical beeping sound warning those foolish enough to stand behind it. Another car careened into the parking lot, and a man jumped out and sprinted toward the beach. The first man, who had been talking to the driver, ran after him.

  Jessica shot a glance at Simon, now engaged in a discussion of soccer strategy with the young deputy, oblivious to the two men jogging straight for them. Before she realized they had cameras banging against their chests, they started snapping.

  Simon blinked
. “What the bloody hell?” One of the men asked, “What happened, Simon?

  Were you drinking? Officer, are you going to arrest him for a DUI?”

  The other man aimed his camera at Jessica. “Who’s the girl? Were you having sex on the beach?” Simon devoured the space between himself and the paparazzo in two steps. Deaf to the shouts of the deputy, he grabbed the man’s camera, snapped the strap off his neck, and tossed it over his shoulder.

  “Go bugger yourself,” he growled.

  Jessica covered her eyes. The night had just fulfilled its original promise of trouble. She spread her fingers and glared at Simon, arms folded across his chest.

  “Are you happy now?”

  ***

  Evan Chase, owner, president, and emperor of Chase Sports Management, smoothed out the tabloid newspaper, The Daily Fix, on his lap. He frowned at the front page, which sported a small inset picture of his newest client, Simon Bosford, next to a bigger picture of his expensive car being hauled out of the Malibu surf. The article also mentioned Simon’s night on the town the evening before the car incident. Jessica Jones, or whatever she called herself these days, had been doing a bang-up job so far of keeping their client home and out of trouble.

  Simon’s management company in England had warned Evan about Simon’s wild behavior, but he’d checked him out and at least the guy didn’t have an arrest record. He could put up with a lot for the cut he’d receive from Simon’s ka-ching endorsements, and the advertisers didn’t even care if he could play soccer any more. Simon had star power beyond the soccer field, and Evan couldn’t wait to harness and package it for American consumption.

  It’s all these aging sports figures had left. When their bodies broke down, they could still smile for the camera and sell. He didn’t feel too bad for Simon Bosford. He had looks, charm, and a multi-million dollar deal with the Waves.

  “Hurry up, honey. The water feels great.” Evan reached beneath his chaise lounge to pull his laptop from its case, waving absently to his wife in the pool.

  Still, the Waves wanted Simon to keep a low profile until they got him on the field and put him through some paces with the team. They wanted him in good shape for the season, and Evan had promised to deliver the goods...at least in the beginning.

  Jessica had better start cracking the whip and keeping that boy home at night. If any other employee at CSM had failed so miserably, he’d can their ass. Not that he could do that to Jessica. He snapped opened his laptop and wiped the sunscreen from his hands.

  No, he couldn’t fire Jessica, ever, for anything.

  ***

  Sitting on the edge of a chair at her dining room table, Jessica shook out The Daily Fix and chewed her bottom lip as she read the article beneath the headline. Simon Bosford Makes a Splash.

  Simon had made nicey-nice with the reporter after he forced him to apologize to her for his remark about sex on the beach, and then paid him for damaging his camera.

  The tow truck driver, whom The Daily Fix obviously had on its payroll, hauled the car out of the water and towed it back to the dealership where they’d assured Simon this morning they could clean and detail it for him. They picked up her car where she’d left it at the dealership, and she dropped Simon off at his place. He didn’t even kiss her goodnight, and she’d really wanted a repeat of that kiss the cops so rudely interrupted.

  At least her name stayed out of the article, or rather nobody would be able to link her to the unidentified brunette it mentioned. Maybe she should dye her hair blond.

  Simon had already called her that morning to tell her the good news about the car, and mentioned he had a meeting with the coaching staff of the Waves. She hoped it had nothing to do with last night’s activities, but Simon seemed unconcerned. She found it hard to believe the Waves would pay so much money for a soccer player just to have him sell a few t-shirts, but Simon explained that he expected most of his money to come from his endorsements, not his job playing left forward for the Waves.

  She tossed the paper aside and clicked open her laptop. She’d met plenty of star athletes, mostly football players from Dad’s teams, and Simon didn’t appear to be any different. Once their careers started heading south, they made the big scramble for endorsement deals. They deserved a little easy money, but she almost pitied them when they reached that stage, although she couldn’t imagine ever pitying Simon.

  Before she opened her email, her intercom buzzed and she bounded up from the sofa to answer it. She’d given Simon her phone number, in fact, programmed it into his new cell phone, but not her address.

  “Jessica, it’s Megan. Can I come up?” Although they’d never been close friends, she owed Megan for getting her the job with CSM and keeping her identity a secret from Evan. She buzzed her in and waited at the front door.

  The elevator doors whisked open, and Megan stumbled into the hallway. She threw out an arm to steady herself, inching along the wall with halting steps. Either she’d just downed a couple of six packs, or elevators made her dizzy. When Megan reached the doorway, she sagged against the doorjamb, clutching a tissue in her fist. She stared at Jessica through puffy, red eyes.

  Gasping, Jessica curled an arm around Megan’s shoulder and drew her inside. Had something horrible happened at CSM? “Sit down, Megan. What’s wrong?” Megan plopped down at the end of the sofa and huddled in the corner, tugging at her short skirt. She dabbed the tissue at her nose, tried to smooth it out, and gave up when it fell apart in her hand. She tossed the entire mess on the carpet. “My boyfriend dumped me.” Jessica raised her brows. Not the catastrophe she’d expected, and while she and Megan got along well enough they’d hardly reached the stage of crying on each other’s shoulders about boyfriends. Had they? She eyed the shredded tissue on her gray carpet. She knew they hadn’t reached the stage of trashing each other’s places.

  Megan hiccupped, and a fresh wave of tears cascaded down her cheeks, creating rivulets of black eyeliner. “He dumped me, Jessica, after just three months together.” Lasted longer than her marriage to Jimmy. She didn’t even realize Megan had a boyfriend. She drew in a deep breath. She had two good shoulders, and she could spare one for Megan. Besides, her best friend, Kylie, was overseas at the moment.

  She headed for the bathroom to retrieve a box of tissues, and after placing it in Megan’s lap, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. She sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing Megan. “What happened, another woman?”

  Megan blew her nose with a fresh tissue, dropped it on the floor, and plucked another. “Several.”

  “Several other women?”

  Megan bobbed her head. “My boyfriend is...was Lenny Stacker.”

  “Who?” The name sounded familiar, and Megan’s expectant tone led her to believe she ought to know him.

  Megan snapped, “Linebacker for the Portland Pioneers.”

  That explained it. Jessica followed professional football as little as possible. Dad didn’t even own the Pioneers, and she still didn’t care. She had no idea Megan was dating a pro football player.

  Megan took a swig of water as another tissue joined its fellows in the rapidly growing pile of snot on Jessica’s living room floor. Jessica averted her gaze from the disturbing sight. “Isn’t he one of our clients?” Megan’s gaze slid to her clasped hands. “Yeah, that’s why I kept quiet about our relationship.”

  “Does Evan have a rule about dating clients?” She sure hoped not, although what she and Simon had been doing didn’t constitute dating, did it? Would Evan feel that way if he found out she’d spent the night in Simon’s bed?

  Megan swept her tangled blond hair from her face, and pulled back her shoulders. Her breasts strained against the tight material of her t-shirt. When did she get a boob job?

  Maybe Lenny gave her a fabulous parting gift when he dumped her.

  Megan answered, “Evan doesn’t want anyone in the office dating the athletes, but if you’re discreet he’s willing to look the other way.”

  Discreet
probably didn’t mean crashing someone’s car into the ocean. Jessica sawed at her lower lip. Would Evan figure out the identity of the brunette on the beach? Would he even see the article?

  Megan rested her high-heeled feet on the coffee table and poked Jessica’s thigh with her toe. “Jessica?”

  “I’m thinking about your problem. Does Evan know you’re dating Lenny?”

  Megan’s fake lashes swept over her red-rimmed eyes.

  “N-no, but we’ve kept things pretty quiet.”

  “Did Lenny dump you because you refused to share him with these other women?” Or because she now looked as cheap as a Hollywood hooker?

  “No, I would’ve been happy to share him once in a while. I know how it is with athletes and the women who throw themselves at them. He just doesn’t want to see me anymore.”

  Too bad Megan didn’t get a self-respect implant along with all that silicone. “Megan, you don’t want a guy like that.

  You’re better off without him.”

  Megan launched herself off the sofa. Wringing her hands, she paced in front of the window, stirring up the late afternoon sunbeams on the carpet. “It’s easy for you to give advice like that. You have enough power, money, and connections to get anyone you want.”

  Jessica cringed. As if she wanted to use her parents’

  power, money, and connections to get a man. For all of Jimmy’s faults, he didn’t give a shit about what her parents could give him. That’s one reason she’d found him so attractive, along with his totally non-controlling, devil-maycare attitude. Sort of like Simon’s.

  She sighed and pushed off the coffee table. “You’re wrong, Megan. I don’t use any of that stuff to get what I want.

  It’s not even my stuff. It belongs to my parents. Besides, why would I want someone who only loved me for what I could give him? That’s pretty superficial.”