by Mel Curtis
If she left now, she could salvage her pride.
If she left now, she’d most likely find Blue camped out in the lobby waiting to say I told you so.
If she left now, she’d have to find another way to make a living because those dividend checks would shrink to nothing and her investments in almost-trendy Beverly Hills establishments weren’t enough to live off of.
Amber sank back into her chair. “Have you ever heard of The Rules of Attraction, Mr. Oliver?”
“No, but I know all about animal magnetism. Call me Evan.” She’d always thought gray eyes were cold and distant, but Evan Oliver had a way of looking at Amber that burned images of naked bodies into her brain – hers and his, together, entwined.
Amber relaxed hidden body parts that shouldn’t have been clenching. She’d fallen to animal attraction once before and suffered a publicly humiliating broken heart.
“Choose, Voice, Trust, Welcome,” Amber recited absently.
“Bedroom rules?”
Amber shook her head. There was nothing more to Evan Oliver than basketball and sex. She had to remember that. “Rules for those driven to succeed. Rules for those brave enough to reach for their dreams. I’m sure you didn’t just land a job in the NBA because of your charm.”
Evan shrugged. There was a wariness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
He wants to believe. Despite the cool swagger, Evan Oliver wanted the Rules to work for him. Amber took an unladylike swig of her martini and let it burn down her throat. She’d sworn a long time ago she’d never tout her father’s beliefs. She swore again now and gestured to Boris for another martini.
Evan raised one wicked eyebrow.
“You have to Choose what you want.”
Evan’s eyebrows waggled.
“And you can’t choose me.”
“Pity.”
Amber hoped the bartender was efficient tonight. “Let’s just say you want to choose that you’ll be the superstar of the Superbowl.”
Evan stared at her as if she was from a foreign zip code, like Pasadena. “Don’t you mean the MVP of the NBA Finals?”
She waved one hand. “Is that what you want?”
“Is this, like, my final answer?”
“Just choose something,” Amber said sharply. The sooner she got this over with the sooner she’d get to hang out with Trina and try to forget she’d ever met Evan Oliver.
Boris appeared. “Are you ready to order dinner?”
“No. And don’t come back without another drink,” Amber snapped. Somewhere her father was looking down on her and having a damned good time.
Evan smiled.
“It’s been a rough two days,” she explained. “Is NBA superstardom your choice or not?”
“Sure.”
“Give it voice.”
“You want me to sing?”
“No.” Everyone was a comedian when it came to her father’s Rules. “I want you to say it. Say what you want.”
“I want to be an NBA superstar.” The words lacked his usual ego bluster. Evan’s vulnerability was a palpable thing that increased the tremors of awareness she was suffering from. It didn’t help that he’d listened to her boob babbling and hadn’t run away screaming.
“Now you’ve got to trust.” How many times had she heard her father recite this stuff? Her martini appeared and Amber took a slug. It wasn’t everyday you had to hawk useless drivel. A girl needed fortification.
“Trust you?”
“No.” Good Lord, no. She was selling him rainbows at an exorbitant price. “Trust the universe to deliver what you want.”
It was Evan’s turn to take a drink. “Well, I can’t say this hasn’t been fun – ”
“Wait.” Why couldn’t the universe have sent her a patsy who already believed in the Rules? Amber didn’t want to do this. “You have to think…”
Evan snorted and set his drink down on the table.
Amber took another hit from hers. “Yeah, I know it’s a stretch for a jock like you, but you have to think how it would feel if you were this NBA superstud and – ”
“Superstar.” One corner of Evan’s mouth inched upward as if he didn’t want to laugh at her, but hell, she’d laugh at herself, too, if she wasn’t Dooley Rule’s daughter stuck selling this stuff.
“Whatever. You have to think how it feels. Here.” Amber poked his chest where normal people had hearts and then downed the last of her martini. It was doubtful that Evan Oliver had a heart that did more than pump blood.
“Like I said – ”
“Oh, for the love of God. You used to be good, right?” Amber leaned forward and put one hand over each of his eyes. She forced herself to imitate her father’s most compelling voice – calm, slow, dramatic. “Keep your eyes closed. Take a deep breath. Now focus on the feeling in your chest. When you were this superstud I bet your chest wasn’t so tight. It didn’t feel so heavy. Breathing was easy. Remember that feeling. Hold onto that emotion. Before you go to sleep at night and before you get out of bed in the morning, welcome that feeling. Trust it to come into your life again.”
For a moment, Amber bought into what she was saying. She remembered how it felt the few times her father hugged her and told her she was pretty.
And then Evan moved, capturing her right wrist and bringing her palm down to his mouth. He flicked his tongue between two of her fingers and then grinned against her palm, turning Amber’s tingle sensor on high, from the tips of her fingers to the ends of her toes.
Amber was in deep doo-doo. Best not to let Superstud know that. She tugged her hand away and lifted the martini glass before she realized it was empty.
He chuckled.
Amber brought out the heavy artillery, leaning over to collect her purse from the floor as she took a deep breath. Her dress had a way of gaping open if she hunched her shoulders just so, exposing Victoria’s Secrets.
Evan went silent.
Amber may be a disaster, but she did know how to make a man shut up in cases of emergency.
She smiled and swung her legs from beneath the table. “Class dismissed.”
Chapter 15
“Time out.” Evan held himself very still. The chemistry between them was off the charts, but Amber wasn’t buying it. He didn’t blame her. He was leery of it himself.
Amber shook her head, sending auburn curls spilling over her shoulder. “You have your homework. Come see me when you know – ”
“How it feels,” he finished for her, fighting a grin. “When I was in school I spent a lot of time in study hall.”
“Meaning detention? Was that because of all the fights you got into?” She stood within a foot of him. Her breasts were level with his mouth.
All Evan had to do was lean forward. Instead he stayed very still. “We need to talk.”
“Only if you tell me something I don’t know,” Amber said, edging behind him to leave.
“I’m just saying I need more instruction than your average guy.”
“And more rejection as well.” Like an indignant goddess, Amber paraded away, breasts provocatively emphasizing each step, capturing every pair of male eyes within the restaurant.
Jesus. A woman like that was a target for every Tom, Dick and Horny Harry out there. Good thing she was getting into a car or Evan might have to do something his mother would be proud of, like follow her to make sure some idiot didn’t commit a crime.
Hip swaying, boobs bouncing, Amber passed by the window, clearly not waiting for the valet to retrieve her car.
Cursing, Evan hurriedly tossed two fifties on the table and made after her.
“How do you walk so fast in those?” Evan asked when he caught up to Amber as she approached the line just forming outside one of those almost-popular clubs that no one ever really went to in a remodeled three story warehouse. A pink neon sign spelled Tingle. It sounded like a strip club.
“I was born with high heels.” Amber crossed her arms as if suddenly aware she had cleavage and was s
elf-conscious about it.
“That doesn’t exactly jibe with the boob sympathy story you gave me earlier.”
“I made that up.” Amber’s heels clicked in time to the music spilling out of the club, audible even with cars cruising by. She picked up the pace as she headed to the front of the line.
“No. You didn’t.” Evan was sure of it. “You had tears in your eyes.”
“Go away.” The top of her head barely reached his shoulders, but he knew from experience short women weren’t short in bed.
The bouncer removed the rope to let her pass.
Amber turned and pointed. “He’s not with me, Barry.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t come in,” Evan said, frowning at the linebacker-sized bouncer as he clicked the rope back in place and Amber disappeared inside. “I’ll give you twenty bucks to let me in.”
“Uh-uhn. I lost forty bucks on you yesterday.” Barry put his hands on his exceedingly wide and overflowing waist. “The back of the line is over there.”
Evan glanced at the ten losers in line. “It’s nine o’clock. What’s there a line for?”
“So assholes like you learn your place.” The bouncer crossed his arms over his chest.
The crowd smelled blood.
“The Flash sucks.”
“Oliver sucks hard wood.”
Anger built. Bested by a girl. Much less a woman he wanted to sleep with. There was no way Evan was waiting in that line and looking like he was desperate for Amber’s attention. He’d end up decking someone. He passed the last pole and headed back to Panache, fuming about being unable to vanquish the Rules. He was in charge of his future, not some diminutive woman.
Homework, my ass.
The roar of an engine caught his attention and a flash of yellow held it. Evan waited until the seven foot tall driver unfurled himself from the Hummer, wearing a dark suit and a huge gold rapper chain.
“Ren! Hey, Ren!” Evan chalked up the light feeling in his chest to another chance at besting Amber, not the way the tall Korean looked happy to see him. “Are you going into Tingle?”
“What is wrong, Oliver? Can you not get in?”
“Naw, I’m just a little shy and don’t want to go in alone.” He fell into step with Ren. “You’re here early.”
“My soul mate is here. She doesn’t know it yet, but she is going to bear me many sons.”
Evan laughed.
“You are an ass-hole.” Ren was serious.
Evan sobered. “So I’m told.”
The bouncer hesitated as they approached.
“My brother,” Ren said in his best Korean flavored English. “You would deny me my Midnight Star?”
“It’s not even close to midnight,” Evan muttered.
Ren gave Evan a reproachful look. “And yet my clock is far ticking.” He turned back to the bouncer.
“It ain’t you that I’m keeping out,” Barry said.
“Dude,” Ren said, shaking his head. “A man does not leave his teammate standing outside…”
The bouncer looked dubious. Evan was oddly touched.
“…No matter how much of an ass-hole he is.” Ren’s grin would have been annoying had the bouncer not released the catch on the rope.
Miss Good Luck Charm’s luck had run out. Evan knew what he had to do.
He gestured for Ren to enter first. “Ren, your phone has all the latest features, right?”
“The internet. GPS. A camera. And – ”
“Everything we need.” Evan slapped Ren’s shoulder.
A few minutes later, Evan stalked into the main club and paused, letting his eyes adjust to the pulsing low light and his ears to the decibel level. Tingle wasn’t Kress, but it was classier than the outside promised. The walls were a deep red. The tables around the edge of the dance floor vivid purple. Private balconies and dance platforms that looked like jail cells jutted from the second story. A windowed outdoor balcony sat two levels above the DJ booth so that patrons could step outside for fresh air and a smoke but still keep an eye on the action. The black bar curved along the front wall backlit by glass shelves of liquor. The place was already pretty crowded, the dance floor undulating with scantily clad bodies. Finding Amber was going to be a challenge.
Ren pushed past him along the bar, presumably having located his Midnight Star.
And there she was.
Amber sat primly on a bar stool in the far corner stirring a martini with a speared olive and talking with the female bartender. It was time to show Miss Good Luck Charm she was sitting several rungs below him on the power ladder. And then Evan would leave. Let Amber be the one left hot and wanting.
Amber’s eyes narrowed as Evan edged into her space. “How did you get in?” She closed her slick lips around the olive and slowly drew the toothpick away.
All thoughts of leaving alone fled. Evan could just as easily put Amber in her place after he’d had her in his bed. Hadn’t that been his original plan? “They filled their quota on beautiful women and needed to let the dogs in.”
Ne-Yo crooned about wanting to get closer to his woman. Evan knew the feeling. The music pounded as insistently as Evan’s blood, demanding he get closer. He wrapped a lock of Amber’s burnished red hair around his fingers. “Dance with me.”
“I don’t dance. The last thing I need is someone taking a video of me shaking my tail feather.” Amber drained her glass and held it up to the bartender to ask for another.
“The last thing you need is to get sloppy drunk,” Evan said, shaking his head at the bartender, a diminutive woman with bright blue eyes and eagle tattooed cleavage.
Ren stood at the end of the bar staring at the bartender with a goofy expression on his face.
“I love a man with a moral compass.” The bartender gave Amber a private smile. “She does dance, but only the slow songs. And we don’t play those here.”
“Pity.” Evan bent over to speak in Amber’s ear. “A woman like you shouldn’t need to hide behind anything, especially a martini.”
Amber’s body twitched with a shock of sensual electricity.
Trina laughed. “The Candy Man wants you bad.”
Amber sputtered a rebuttal, but Evan was gone. Disappointment dampened both the heat and the indignation.
“He must not want you that bad,” Trina said, setting a fresh Vitamin Water in front of Amber in a clean martini glass.
“That’s a good thing.”
“I don’t think so.” Trina wiped the bar. “You can’t live in that house with its X-rated wallpaper and sex toys without succumbing to someone. It’s been what? Three years?”
“I know how long it’s been. I’m just surprised everyone else knows, too.” Amber grumbled as Trina moved on to a paying customer, a tall player from the Flash who proceeded to flirt with Trina like crazy.
Amber glanced surreptitiously at the patrons around her. Did everyone assume she hadn’t been with anyone because her last lover had been household name Kent Decklin? Or did something in her appearance give away that Amber was an abstaining woman about to blow? Amber tilted her head until she caught her reflection in between a bottle of Gray Goose and Kettle One. Other than the martini glaze in her eyes from Panache, she looked just like she always did.
“We’re going to slow things down a bit,” the DJ announced. “For all those soldiers out there, here’s your chance to get to know that lady more intimately.”
Trina’s head shot up. The rum she’d been pouring cascaded over the bar. She didn’t allow slow music, claiming it brought the crowd (and drink sales) down.
The first orchestral strains of Aerosmith’s I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing swelled from the speakers.
“I believe this is our dance,” Evan said, tugging Amber by the arm until she slid off the bar stool. His gaze was hot and dangerous, his clasp possessive of her arm. And then Evan let his hand drift, let his thumb graze Amber’s breast, sending goose bumps across her skin as he waited for her decision.
Trina glared at
Evan and Amber suddenly wanted to dance. Evan must have felt her acceptance because he led Amber onto the slowly strobing dance floor, his hand locked with hers, his touch feeding the pulse she’d been trying to control all night.
Evan positioned Amber’s arms around his neck. The top of her head came up to his shoulder. With her arms up, her breasts had no where to go but against his chest. Bodies jostled Evan even nearer until every inch of his hard body was plastered against hers. Amber caught one last glimpse of Trina’s angry expression behind the bar before they were swallowed in the crush.
Steve Tyler crooned in his broken voice about sweet surrender.
Amber would not surrender to Evan. She tried to put some space between them, but Evan’s hand slid down her backside and brought her closer. Then that same hand slid beneath the curve of her butt and lifted her leg around his hip.
Evan’s thighs, his chest, his hand – his hand! – crept beneath the hem of her dress, inching upward until his fingers breached the edge of her panties. Amber’s gaze darted from side to side. What if someone saw what Evan was doing to her?
It was shameful. It was crazy.
His finger traced silk, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Amber’s eyes closed.
It was nearly heaven.
Who could tell with their bodies plastered against each other what Amber and Evan were up to?
Light flashed. Startled, Amber stiffened and jerked her head around. Paparazzi weren’t allowed in, but Amber felt as if her picture had been taken. And then the strobe spun on her once more, blinding her. But the spell had been broken. What Evan was attempting to do to her was sinful and tempting, but also controlling and demeaning. He wasn’t even kissing her. He was just proving how needy Amber was. She had to regain control.
Amber broke free of Evan’s one-hand hold, placed both feet on the ground, grabbed onto the hair behind his ears and pulled his lips within reach. But before she kissed Evan, Amber traced his lips with her tongue, staring into his eyes as if to say he was hers to play with now. As she finally claimed his mouth she felt, rather than heard, his groan.
Kent had always told Amber she was a fantastic kisser. Of course, Kent had lied a lot. But by the way Evan began struggling for breath, Amber figured maybe Kent hadn’t lied about that.