Kick It Up

by Carol Ericson

  She knew Peter Casellas owned the Waves, but didn’t even realize he had a silent partner, and that silent partner had to be Dad. When had he formed an interest in soccer?

  She should’ve known, should’ve guessed she couldn’t land a job without her parents’ pull. She’d been an idiot to think Evan had given her the job with Simon based on her own merits. When had anyone trusted even one of her merits?

  The phone rang and she gripped the toothbrush so tightly, her knuckles bleached as white as her grout. Simon had called earlier and left a few messages wondering where she’d gone. After she’d sneaked that peek at Ivo’s paperwork, she’d thrown on her clothes and fled Simon’s condo.

  A woman’s voice floated through the room. “Jessica, this is Megan getting back to you. Did you set me up already?”

  No, but you set me up. Jessica lunged for the phone.

  “Hi Megan, I’m here.”

  “Oh, hi. Did you find someone for me? ‘Cuz Lenny’s out.”

  “Uh, no, but I have a question to ask you.”

  “Oh?”

  Was that a tremor in Megan’s voice? “Does Evan know who my family is?”

  “W-what?”

  A definite tremor. “You heard me.”

  “Shit. Yeah, he knows.”

  Jessica spoke through gritted teeth. “I thought we had a deal.”

  “I’m sorry, Jessica, but when Evan found out I knew the daughter of Roger Brett, he asked me to bring you in.”

  “Do you mean the job didn’t even exist?” Jessica clapped a hand to her forehead, as if to wake herself from a bad dream.

  “Not until Evan created it for you.”

  This was even worse than she’d expected. “If Evan hopes to get in good with my father, why hasn’t he mentioned him to me?”

  Megan let out a long sigh. “I told him not to, that you were sensitive about your family connections. I don’t get it, Jessica. You’re so lucky. You didn’t even have to sleep with anyone to get this job.”

  Then how come she still felt like a whore? Speaking of whores, a nasty little idea tugged at the edges of her mind.

  “What kind of finder’s fee did you get out of all this?

  “Lenny Stacker.”

  The words gave her a one-two punch in the gut, and she had to sit down before she toppled over. “You sold me to Evan and CSM for a date with Lenny Stacker?”

  “Come on, Jessica. That’s an ugly spin. When Evan found out I knew you, he asked me to bring you in for an interview, promising he’d keep mum about your identity. He never would’ve hired you if he didn’t think you’d work out.”

  “Yeah, right. Evan would hire Jack the Ripper if he thought it would give him an in with the owner of the Quakes, the Condors, and the Waves.”

  “Your father owns the Waves? I don’t think Evan knows that.”

  At least she wasn’t the only one out of the loop, but she’d wager her last pair of Jimmy Choo’s that Evan knew all about her father’s ownership of the Waves. And did her father know all about her job with CSM? She’d revealed very little to her parents about her new job, but her reticence never stopped the Brett-Jones freight train before.

  “Don’t be dense, Megan. Why do you think I got the Simon Bosford assignment?”

  “Why should Evan care about your father’s influence there? Simon’s already his client.”

  Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. She’d been ping-ponging this one around in her head all morning. It all came back to quid pro quo. I’ll give your daughter this choice assignment, she keeps out of trouble, keeps my client and your employee out of trouble, and you’ll pay me back by facilitating my access to future clients. It made sense. And she’d been duped again, walked right into the trap, hopped, skipped, and jumped into the trap.

  “Uh, Jessica? Does this mean you’re not going to set me up with one of Jimmy’s band mates?” Jessica clicked off the phone and tossed it against the wall.

  They just trapped the wrong gofer.

  ***

  Ivo dropped Simon off in front of his condo. After picking up his papers, he took Simon on a tour of the halfcompleted soccer stadium that the new Waves owner had insisted on building. The new partner had deep pockets.

  Jogging up the front steps, Simon flipped open his mobile phone for the hundredth time that afternoon to check for messages. Nothing. Maybe she’d left a message at his condo instead.

  He unlocked the door and pushed into the lobby. Isaac glanced up from the telly and nodded. “How’re you doing, Boss?”

  Simon slowed his steps and pulled up behind Isaac, watching the flickering screen over his shoulder. “You need a better telly than that, Isaac.”

  The big man put a finger to his lips. “Just don’t want to draw attention to myself. I’m not supposed to be watching TV on the job.”

  “Bollocks. This is Beverly Hills. What’s going to happen?”

  Isaac’s deep laugh echoed in the lobby. “You’re not the only celebrity here, Boss. You ever hear of crazy stalkers?”

  “Yeah, I had a few of them back home. I used to have a couple of bodyguards follow me around.” He did an assessment of Isaac’s impressive stature. “If it ever comes to that here, you interested in a job as a bodyguard?” Isaac spun around in his chair. “Sure. Keep me in mind.”

  Simon kicked the edge of the security desk with the toe of his shoe. “You haven’t seen Jessica around today, have you?”

  Isaac’s chair squeaked, but he didn’t turn around. “No, but your new cleaning lady showed up. Real nice woman, but a little bossy if you ask me.”

  Simon opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut. If the midnight guy, Jaworski, hadn’t said anything to Isaac about Jessica high-tailing it out of here in the wee hours of the morning, he didn’t want to be the one impugning her reputation. “Thanks.”

  By the time he shoved his key in the front door, he’d thought up another ten excuses why Jessica had left his bed in the middle of the night. Not one of those excuses included the sex. They’d given that new bed a workout.

  He checked the message light on the phone and slammed his keys on the counter. Where did she go? Why did she leave him?

  He often bailed on a woman after he bedded her. Had to leave them before they left him, even though he always softened his exit with fabulous parting gifts. Maybe the fates had sent Jessica to him as payback. Maybe she played the same games he did, although he’d never met a woman yet who matched his skill at that particular game.

  His gaze drifted to the coffee table, the scene of their strip poker match, now cleared and polished to a glossy sheen. Jessica had nailed it last night when she’d accused him planning out the entire thing. He controlled the game from the beginning, even cheating to lose hands at the appropriate moments. He figured a woman like Jessica wouldn’t be content with a quiet evening at home, so he raised the stakes and spiced it up. She responded like he knew she would. So what went wrong?

  A thud resounded from the staircase, and he spun around. A short, dark-haired woman descended the stairs, dragging a Hoover behind her. Isaac forgot to mention his housekeeper was still housekeeping. He sprang forward and balanced on the bottom step. “Hold on, luv. I can help you with that.”

  She waved her free hand in front of her, shooing him away. “No, no, you big football star.” Was that a smirk on her worn face? He ducked his head, feeling about five years old. “No, I insist.” She ignored his outstretched hand and continued to trudge down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, he stumbled off the last step to move out of her way.

  She parked the Hoover and turned to face him. “I’m Milla, your housekeeper. I cook too, so I prepare some meals tomorrow to put in the freezer. Do you know how to use microwave?”

  She just crossed the line. He drew in a breath and opened his mouth, but she shook a bony finger in his face.

  “I’ve worked for celebrity-types before, and no matter where they come from, once they reach celebrity status they seem to f
orget simplest things.”

  “I assure you, Milla, I know how to work a microwave.” A laugh bubbled up through his nose, despite her in-yourface attitude.

  She dug her fists into her hips and tilted her head. “I’m sure you know how to work a lot of things. I’m glad one of them is microwave.”

  He stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Milla. I’m Simon Bosford. You can call me Simon.”

  “I intend to. I have sons older than you.” She gripped his hand with the strength of a lorry driver.

  “Are you finished here?”

  “I just have to vacuum downstairs. I’ll be back tomorrow to do cooking. I hope you’re not picky. I don’t do anything frou frou.”

  He didn’t know what she meant by frou frou, but if she didn’t do it, he didn’t like it. “I’m not picky.” She plugged in the Hoover and the noise drove him upstairs. He shut the double doors of his bedroom behind him. The room smelled faintly of orange oil and the furniture gleamed with it. Milla had made up his bed, every pillow fluffed and in its place.

  His head jerked back to the bed. A pair of black, lacy knickers lay neatly folded on the coverlet. No wonder Milla had him pegged as a player. He plucked up the panties and held the silky material against his face. He’d never been a knicker-sniffer, but he inhaled Jessica’s sweet musky scent, still clinging to the silky material. A desire so primal, so fierce swept through his body, he sank to the bed on his back with the knickers covering his face.

  She must’ve left in a big hurry to forget her knickers.

  What drove her out of here so fast? He must’ve really bored her, or worse. She probably couldn’t handle all his blather about his parents and his school days. Blimey, what made him go on about all that?

  That’s it. She stuck around for the sex, which even she had to admit was brilliant, unless she faked those four orgasms, and then shot out of here as soon as he fell asleep.

  The bedroom door clicked open, and Milla cleared her throat.

  He froze, Jessica’s panties still covering his face.

  “Yes, Milla?” he asked in a muffled voice.

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Do I owe you any money?” A bit of material stuck to his lip.

  “No, the agency pays me.”

  “Thank you.”

  Before she slammed the door behind her, she murmured. “English pervert.”

  ***

  Jessica wheeled her Mercedes SUV into Simon’s parking spot in the structure beneath his condo. She’d called earlier to make sure he was home because he deserved to hear the news in person.

  The elevator sped up from the parking garage and eased to a stop at the lobby. Her heels clipped across the tile toward the elevators that led to the condos. She shot a glance at the security desk. Thank God Jaworski wasn’t on duty.

  The way she steamed out of here last night...this morning...with her clothes hastily pulled on, without her panties, her hair sticking up all over the place, make-up smeared, he must’ve thought Simon beat her or something.

  Of course, Jaworski didn’t know about the panties.

  She’d left them upstairs and didn’t want to risk waking Simon to retrieve them.

  She couldn’t help it. She usually acted first and thought about it later because the thinking part confused things even more. After her conversation with Megan, she’d been trying to work out what kind of deal Evan had struck with her father, or vice versa. Then it hit her. What about Simon?

  Did he know she was the boss’s daughter? And knowing that, had he tried to wrap her around his finger?

  His wanton displays of his nakedness, that grin, those lips, that thing he did with his little finger, those multiple orgasms. She threw her arm out to steady herself as the elevator swooshed upward. Had Simon planned all that to insinuate himself into her good graces, to get on Dad’s good side? She didn’t know about Dad’s good side, but her good graces covered Simon from head to toe...or at least they did. She didn’t know whether or not to trust him now.

  And that explained her life in a nutshell.

  Did her girlfriends like her because she threw the best birthday parties, gave them cast-off beauty pageant outfits, and had super models lounging around her house? Or did they prefer the athletes? Did her boyfriends like her because she drove the best cars, gave them box seat tickets to Condor games, and had athletes lounging around her house? Or did they prefer the super models?

  She’d been working on getting past those insecurities for the past five years. Now when she least expected it, they spattered her like hot oil.

  She charged off the elevator and rounded the corner.

  Her stride shortened considerably when she saw Simon lounging against the wall. Talk about your lounging athletes, he lounged with the best of them with his hand shoved in one pocket and the other behind his back. She must’ve been out of her mind to run out on that man in bed. She straightened her shoulders. A girl had to do what a girl had to do to reclaim her life.

  He swept his hand from behind his back, and dangled a pair of black panties from his fingertips. She strode forward and snatched the panties from his hand. “What are you doing with these?”

  He pushed the door open and gestured her inside.

  “You left them here when you, uh, escaped.” She dropped her lashes, shoving the telltale evidence of their passion in her purse. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I-I wasn’t feeling well, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Was it the food or the sex?”

  Her eyes flew open. “Oh, no, it wasn’t...” She caught the glimmer of humor in his blue eyes, and she laughed.

  “Neither. The food and the sex were equally yummy.” He dragged her forward by her purse and planted a kiss on her mouth that reverberated down to her toes.

  When he came up for air, he asked, “Then why’d you leave me?”A fter that kiss, she had to hop back on the train of thought that was disappearing into a fog of desire. She shook her head. “I just didn’t feel well.” She hated lying, but she hadn’t strayed too far from the truth. When she saw Dad’s corporation on Ivo’s paperwork, it felt like a sledgehammer to the mid-section.

  Simon teased a strand of her hair, and then wrapped it around his finger. Tugging on it, he inched her closer to his lips and the total mind-numbing oblivion they represented.

  She turned her head, and his mouth landed against her ear.

  “Simon, I have something to tell you.” He nuzzled her earlobe. “Mmm, you said that on the phone.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, and she allowed herself to melt just a little around the edges. Then she screwed up her eyes and jerked out of his grasp. “It’s important.”

  “You found me a solicitor? Because I really need one.

  My guy back home knows nothing about contract law in the states.”

  He stepped back, giving her wiggle room, and it’s a good thing because she couldn’t think straight when he touched her. Exhaling, she turned her back on him and everything he offered. She knotted her hands in front of her.

  “It’s not about the attorney, although CSM will find you a good one.”

  If Simon deserved to be told in person, then he deserved to be told face-to-face. She spun around. “I’m quitting.”

  Chapter Seven

  “You’re quitting?” Simon’s gaze dropped to Jessica’s twisting hands and bounced up to the crease between her eyebrows.

  Her bottom lip trembled before she answered. “Yes, I’m leaving CSM, which means I’m leaving this job. Here. With you.”

  Guess the cozy game of strip poker hadn’t been enough for her, and his family revelations had probably been too much. But just for a moment when he’d held her in his arms, felt her body shudder against his, when she looked deep in his eyes as he filled her up...what? Did he expect to find his soul mate in L.A. of all places? He wasn’t looking for a bloody soul mate. Didn’t even know what that meant.

  “Simon?”

  He dragged himself back from that abyss of longing,
and a grin cracked his stiff face. “Don’t worry about it, luv. I know how it is. Most of you rich girls only play at having jobs.”

  “Th-that’s not why I’m quitting. It’s...personal.” Her shoulders sagged, and the corners of her mouth drooped. He felt a right ass attacking her for something she’d shared with him. Didn’t he abhor that in others? He shoved his hands in his pockets. Even though a pinprick of guilt poked him, he refused to make it any easier for her.

  He refused to beg.

  “No problem. It’s just a job. I guess we got carried away with the poker game. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of our employer/employee relationship.” He snapped his fingers. “Are you going to sue me for sexual harassment?

  You Yanks are big on lawsuits, and it might just give me a little cache here.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She scowled and tossed her hair back. “You didn’t take advantage of anything. I was a willing participant...in everything.”

  He preferred her annoyance to her sadness and got off on her laughter even more.

  “I’ve got it. You’re going to pop up in nine months and tell the world you just gave birth to The Boss’s baby.” That did it. Laughing, she scooped up a pillow from the chair and tossed it at him. “I am not!”

  “You better not try it because I’ll demand a paternity test, and you never know who else will come out of the woodwork and claim paternity.”

  When her giggles subsided, she stuck out her hand. “It was great...ah...working with you, Simon. I’m sorry to leave so abruptly, but I’m sure Evan will assign someone else who’s a lot more competent than I.”

  He grabbed her smooth hand and ran his thumb across her wrist. She sighed. He raised her hand to his lips, turned it over and placed a kiss on her palm.

  “You’re competent enough for me.”

  She snatched her hand away and stumbled to the door, flinging it open. He heard her footsteps running for the elevator. Then with a swoosh, she was gone.