He was frustrated with himself for wanting her. Yeah, she could relate.
Teeth gritted, heart skittering, Danica growled, “I am not doing this to hurt you. I care, you damn jerk.” She grabbed the folder with the ESPN Films information, thrust it toward him. “This was what I was working on—not that it makes a difference to you.”
Dex took the folder and, without another word or glance, strode away.
Danica dropped back onto the edge of her desk, scrubbing at her lips as if to wipe the memory of his mouth from her tingling flesh.
“Boss?”
It was a challenge to discreetly lower her hand, straighten up and face her assistant. Lilith’s gaze passed over her, and Danica saw the same note of realization that had sparked in the other woman’s eyes when Marion asked if she’d recognized the signature on Danica’s arm.
She knows.
But all Lilith said was, “If he comes here again…?”
Danica sat at her desk, closing the Minesweeper game on her computer. “He won’t.”
*
Damn it, Danica. Why couldn’t you let it go?
Protecting his sister from the consequences of his choices by limiting their contact was what he’d done right—of that Dex was certain. Giving up that fight now that Erin, barely out of college and coddled all her life, was traipsing into his world—a world where people partied hard and screwed over their fellow man to hurdle to the top—was not an option.
Dex dragged his hands through his hair and walked over to his living-room windows, which offered a nighttime view of trees. This was as close to remote as a man could get in Las Vegas. Yeah, he’d craved the big city and had wanted to swim with the sharks, but once he’d gotten his wish and the time had come to claim territory, he’d picked an airy property away from the action. A location that offered the illusion of solitude, rural simplicity, something familiar that he was missing.
Restless, he reached into his pocket, jiggling the keys to his Corvette. He could meet his sister at the airport, turn her right back around on a flight home, and then what? He could find superficial company at any hot spot on the Strip. But with people like that he’d learned to keep his guard up. If nothing else, being ripped out of his career had helped him filter the double-crossers from the legit friends.
But Danica had passed that filter as well as the rest of his resistances.
A call to his friend and former teammate Russo Lewis and he’d be on the road to San Francisco. Russo’s plans to be a bachelor for life had been shot to hell by a smokin’ surgeon, but he’d sworn on his life that Dex would appreciate some time with California women.
But when his mind pictured the kind of woman who could get him worked up, she was delicate-framed, marched when she moved, paraded around town packing sex dice and massage oil…and she cared. About him.
Dex slowly turned to the folder she’d shoved at him. ESPN Films. A documentary, centered on him.
Did she genuinely care, or would he only be falling further into a game?
Before he could decide one way or another, Samantha showed up on his doorstep, absorbing all the space in his house with her man-trapping outfit, heady cover-up-the-cigarette-smoke perfume and loudmouthed laughter.
“Whoa, I hope the wrath sizzling off you isn’t directed at me.” She strolled into his house, swaying her denim-clad ass all the way to his kitchen, where she grabbed a jar of peanut butter from a cupboard, unscrewed the cap and poked her finger in.
“Double dip in that jar and it will be,” he said. “That stuff’s disgusting. What if I have people over, and they want peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches? Think they’ll be all right with a touch of Samantha Weatherby’s spit?”
Samantha pulled her peanut-butter-smeared finger from her mouth, making a soft popping sound. “You never had a problem with my spit when you kissed me.”
“I knew what I was getting when I kissed you.”
“If it’s that much of an issue, I’ll replace the whole jar.” A few searches through drawers and cupboards rewarded her with a spoon, which she loaded with peanut butter. “Mmm. And no one I know over the age of thirteen offers peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches to guests.”
“It was a what-if.”
“A ridiculous one.”
“Samantha, what’s up with the drop-in? There’s usually only one reason you randomly show up at my place.”
She tossed her pink-streaked hair, glazing him with a brazen look. “Can’t a girl veg out with a friend without having some ulterior motive?”
Not when that friend is me and you’re clearly wearing a bra that does phenomenal things for your breasts.
It was her get-him-in-the-sack bra. It had never failed.
But there was a first time for everything….
“I think you’re stressed,” she diagnosed, her mouth pursed softly. “Can we park it on the porch? I was in a studio all day. Stir-crazy.” She added a precocious smile. “Any of those Sam Adams Utopias left?”
“So you bought me a gift that you want for yourself.”
“Is it my fault we have the same good taste in beer?” She unwound a gauzy scarf from her neck, already getting herself comfortable. “C’mon. I’m going out.”
Dex let her claim a seat on the porch, then passed her a beer. He remained standing, arms crossed. “Be honest. Did it pan out with the man you hooked up with at that wedding?”
“No. I think, though, that you and I were hasty in calling it quits to our system.”
“I’m not backsliding, Samantha. I don’t want that kind of system anymore.”
Samantha paused, peanut butter in one hand, beer in the other. “Unbelievable. It’s happened….” She got up and pointed her bottle at the center of his chest. “Somebody’s unlocked that.”
“Saying my heart was locked up?”
“Mmm-hmm. In all our time together, I’ve never been able to jiggle that lock. God knows if I even really tried.” She sighed. “You think some things will never change…and then they do. Everything can change.”
Even an hour after Samantha left, and Dex was at the airport waiting for his sister, he couldn’t shake her words. She’d said his heart was locked, but he’d always thought that it was stone-cold and dead—just like his chances of a reconciliation with his parents. What he’d accepted was a lie, though.
His heart was alive and open to the hurt of Danica’s deception. Why did it hurt, though? She was just a woman. Dozens had played him before. Why should she be different?
You became different when you fell in love with her, Harper.
Another unwanted thought.
As much as he didn’t want his sister in Las Vegas, Dex was relieved that she appeared in his sights in time to disperse the realization that he was in love with the woman who’d taken away his career.
“I can get a taxi and go straight to a hotel and talk to Danica Blue tomorrow,” Erin said flatly, muscling a duffel bag and an equally bulky purse to where he stood semidisguised in a ball cap and sunglasses. “Or I can hug my brother.”
“Get over here, you damn pest.”
Erin hurled herself at him, squeezing tight the way she had the few times he’d come home. “Are you all right? All I know is what the news tells.”
“It’s you I’m worried about.”
“Don’t be. I’m tougher than you think.” She eased away, swiping his hat and putting it on herself backward. It emphasized the dark makeup lining her blue eyes. “I am hungry, though.”
Dex bought her a soft pretzel and a Coke, then they sat down at a quiet table away from the bustle of passengers.
“You need to go home, Erin.”
“I’ll do that,” she said carefully, “but not before I hear what Danica has to say about this documentary thing. And not before I tell you…that I’m leaving Oregon.”
“What? The farm’s paid for. It’s where you grew up.”
“I’m signing it over to you, since you’re the one who paid for it. You can sell it and keep t
he money. Every time I turn around there’s a story about a celebrity selling off his assets because Vegas is too costly. In case you don’t get back on your feet—”
“I’m far from broke,” he told her, unable to kill the smile that tipped up a corner of his mouth. Her concern humbled him. “Maybe tabloids reported that I spent my paychecks as soon as I got them, but I didn’t. The farm was a gift. Yours to keep.”
“A gift that’s forcing me to stay in Gunner. I didn’t build things with Dad and Grandpa. That was you. I’m not interested in keeping the land in the family. Again, you.”
“The only thing worse than being on the outs with Dad when he died, and not being able to come home for Mom’s funeral, would be if something happened to you, Erin.”
“Bad things can happen in Gunner.”
“You’re safer at home, not with me in this city.”
“I think Las Vegas and you are incredible,” she said. “But I outgrew following you around. I’m moving to California. There’s a career waiting for me. Williams-Sonoma.”
“What about your videos?”
“I can do both. There’s just the farm to deal with.”
“Mom and Dad wouldn’t agree with you running off to California.”
“It’s not their choice. It’s mine. Be in my life as my brother, not some faraway bodyguard. You went against our parents’ plans for your life because you wanted to do something different. So do I.”
“Mom and Dad—”
“Are gone.” Erin put the pretzel aside and gripped his hands. “They’re gone. I’m here because I love you as much as they both did. There’s no changing my mind about leaving Oregon. There’s no stopping me from talking to Danica tomorrow. Okay, Dexter?”
“Erin, I think Danica’s out of the equation. I got in her face about contacting you. It wasn’t her place.”
“When in doubt, damage the relationship.” She shook her head, a pitying expression on her oval face.
“There’s no relationship. You don’t know this woman.”
“Google brought me up to speed nicely. She’s hot, smart, charitable. Danica’s the only woman who cared enough about you to find me. For that, she deserves my time and an apology from you.”
*
“Quartzite. Definitely, take the quartzite.” Veda picked up a whitish crystal and pressed it into Danica’s palm before sitting at the head of the table in her English Tudor–style dining room. “It’ll give you balance and clarity.”
The crystals were only part of the loot Veda had acquired from a metaphysical fair during her world-tour honeymoon. Experiencing romance across the globe with the love of her life suited her well. Vivacious smile. Glowing almond-brown complexion. Peaceful aura.
Danica wanted to leap off her seat at the foot of the table and wiggle in closer to where her best friend sat. Maybe some of that happiness would rub off on her. But Danica knew it was hard-won, and she wasn’t quite sure she had the fight in her.
Veda laced her fingers beneath her chin. Her ring shot spears of light off the room’s chandelier. The bling was designed specifically for her, a wedding-day gift from her husband. So was the house—no, manor, as Willa Smart had bragged only a thousand times when she showed Danica the article from the Las Vegas Sun. Forbes-list jewelry designer snags Las Vegas’s hottest historical property. “Danica, there’s only so much a crystal can accomplish against negative energy. My mom’s company has a new online compatibility test. It’s the most advanced of its kind.”
“This girl—” Danica pointed her thumbs at herself “—is not going to be a guinea pig for Dating Done Smart.”
“Aren’t you having relationship problems?”
“I’m not in a relationship.”
“Sad face.” Veda drew a finger down her cheek. “Those condoms in your bachelorette-party bag have an expiration date, and you won’t even get to use them.”
I wouldn’t say that. Danica renewed her interest in her margarita.
“Is there something…I don’t know…unresolved going on with Marion?”
Danica choked on the drink. “Nope, nada, zilch, zero—”
“Got it. I’ve been gone only a few weeks, but I’m completely out of the loop. Mom and Cap told me what your folks tried to pull. The part that blows my mind is that Marion Reeves let them guilt-trip him. Goes to show the Blues can really put on the pressure.”
“You sound worried.”
“I’m not.” Veda giggled, but her raised eyebrows said, Should I be?
Danica supposed she couldn’t fault her friend for harboring concern. Tem could throw a vicious tantrum, and former bodybuilder Marshall had an innate “Fear me” vibe going. Though dispelled, the accusation that he’d threatened the former owner into selling the Las Vegas Slayers to him only underscored that.
“When it comes to my family, you are loved all around, V.”
Veda perked up at that. “Have another crystal. The candids from the wedding are in, FYI.”
She moved the drinks to one side of the table and set up her laptop in front of Danica so they could browse the photos. “This one is my favorite of you. Mom said it’s heartbreaking.” She enlarged a shot of Danica and the two flower girls. In full bridesmaid’s gown and makeup, she was parked on the bridal suite’s floor, comforting the girl who’d puked up rose petals, while the other girl—who’d earlier kicked her ankle in a hissy fit—cuddled up to her.
“Good lighting. Exquisite gowns. Cute kids.” Danica smiled but felt the beginnings of an itch behind her eyes.
“No, it’s the story,” her friend insisted. “Completely beautiful. You look so maternal. That’s why Mom finds it heartbreaking. You wanted kids of your own, but it didn’t happen.”
“Let’s see the rest.” Danica was already minimizing the image.
Veda fell silent for a long moment. “There is this one—” she maneuvered her finger over the track pad “—that Cap found interesting.”
Danica was surprised by that. Veda’s war-vet father was the type to glance at a photo, then pass it off to someone else without a single comment.
Filling the screen was a photograph that strapped Danica to her seat. She and Dex holding hands beneath the Mandarin Oriental’s ceiling of bubbles.
“Um.” Veda gently closed the laptop. “I’m going to have to take this away now. You’re getting tears all over my keyboard, m’kay?”
Danica bawled, and in her well-meaning way, Veda wheedled the details out of her. Veda had been relieved that the high-end, easy-tear-wrapper condoms hadn’t been doomed to expire, and she’d been empathetic about Danica and Dex’s argument. Only a day had passed since the fight in her office, yet Danica felt as if she’d been missing him for years.
When Veda swiped Danica’s phone to make a call, Danica got herself together. The Ball Buster didn’t cry, certainly not over a man who couldn’t peer past his own defenses to see a woman who frankly—and probably unwisely—cared for him.
Migrating to the living room, the women played nickel-and-dime poker on the floor, chatting about anything but men. That is, until Mekhi Corrine strode in, fresh from a workout in athletic wear with his dark-chocolate skin and his jet-black hair, shaved at the sides of his head, glistening with perspiration. “Y’all. There is a tight Corvette in our driveway.”
“Corvette?” Danica sprang up, her gaze shooting accusingly to her friend.
Veda gathered all the poker change and pranced to her husband with a guilty-as-sin expression.
Mekhi banded his arms around Veda from behind. Their voices followed Danica as she dashed for the foyer.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s in love.”
Danica didn’t slow her stride until she’d reached the winding, rosebush-lined driveway. There was Dex behind the wheel of his superhero sports car. “Veda interfered,” she began. “I had no knowledge—”
“Yeah?” Dex watched her behind a pair of midnight-black sunglasses. “And how does it make you feel to be on th
e receiving end of that?”
“Can we do this without the psychology stuff?”
“Do what?”
“Apologize.”
Dex leaned out the window, muscles flexing as he reached for her.
Kneeling, she rested against the car door with her hands curling into the collar of his hunter-green shirt and his arms gripping her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered repeatedly.
“God, Danica. I’m sorry.” He swallowed her apologies in a crushing kiss. “This is all I want. You’re all I want.”
Me, too.
If only Danica could let herself say the words.
Chapter 13
The mile marker for reckless was a dot in the rearview mirror. If sleeping together in secret didn’t push them past reckless, and getting so close to each other that a fight could turn them inside out didn’t, either, then beyond a doubt hitting up popular paparazzi haunt Joel Robuchon to share the sixteen-course tasting menu in the prime of night did.
No name existed for the territory Dex and Danica were in now. Powerless was the only explanation he could give to the slam of desire he felt when Danica had appeared in her friend’s driveway. After making up with apologies and sex, they’d met his sister for drinks at a casino where Erin had shown off photos of the Harper farmhouse, a timbered area and a forest of cherry fruit trees. Then he’d taken Danica to the Strip for a spur-of-the-moment dinner that had every appearance of a real date.
Until Danica, in that unexplainably shrewd way of hers, fabricated a story for everyone who stopped to speak en route to their own tables. Curious glances of intrigue turned into looks of disinterest. With a few careful words from Danica, each friend or acquaintance whose eyes glinted with suspicion that the Slayers’ former quarterback and the current GM were paired up at Joel Robuchon on a date was manipulated into second-guessing that perception.
When Marshall and Tem entered the restaurant, he was still deciding whether the edginess riding his system was out of concern that they’d get found out, or out of frustration that she couldn’t be his.
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