Gage (The Player Book 6)

by Nana Malone

  The kiss was meant to be a peck. Meant to be chaste. But one brush of his lips on hers, and her world turned upside down. Gage slid a hand down to the small of her back, tugging her closer against him.

  She flushed. The guy was ripped. He was an athlete, so she expected nothing less, but damn. He held her in position, sliding his lips over hers, his tongue teasing the seam of her mouth. When she gasped in surprise, Gage took full advantage, sliding his tongue over hers. The current of electricity that coursed through her was strong enough to make her knees weak, but he kept her on her feet. When Gage pulled back after what felt like a million years, his lopsided grin was cocky, knowing. Jackass.

  She blinked up at him. She should have been able to form words. Words right now would be great. Shit, what were words?

  She pressed her lips together, as if she could preserve the kiss between them if she squeezed tightly enough. Then she blinked and cleared her throat, only for Gage to chuckle and shake his head. “Come on. The jerk's probably still watching. Let's start walking, and you can tell me what the hell that was all about.”

  Six

  What the hell had just happened? Fog swirled through Gage's mind, and when it cleared, all he saw was Becker, her dark eyes, her café au lait skin complimented by a pretty pink flush.

  That kiss had been fun. More than fun. And unexpected, coming from her. He was still sporting a hard-on from it. You do not have time for this. You're in enough trouble. You can't add a girl to the mix.

  He cleared his throat. “So, is he an ex?” Gage asked, swinging his and Becker's linked hands.

  Her skin was so damn soft, and touching her was oddly comforting. When was the last time he just held someone's hand?

  “What? No. He wishes I'd date him. But hell, even this perpetual nerd has standards.” She glared down at their hands. “Will you quit that?” She tried to drag her hand from his, but he held on more tightly. Oh, no, you don't. He didn't want to let her go yet. He was still reeling from the effects of the unexpectedly electrifying kiss. Oddly, this was the calmest he'd felt in a month. He swung their hands more, and she rolled her eyes, giving up.

  “Fine. Miguel Sanchez is the VP at my father's production company, and Daniel is his son. Our parents have been trying to get us together for years.”

  “So not an ex, but unwelcome all the same?” Gage asked.

  “You got it.”

  Once they were a safe distance from the café, he let Becker tug her hand from his. She spun to face him. Taking a deep breath and pressing her lips together tightly, she gave him a little nod as if she'd decided something.

  Damn, she was pretty. He'd seen it when he'd first run into her at the coffee cart. But she was even prettier now, brows furrowed in a determined expression, full lips pursed. Gage had the distinct impression she got a lot done like this.

  Her voice was firm and cool when she launched into her speech. “Okay, so Daniel’s not going to let this go. I know him. So far since starting here, I've been able to avoid him, though that's more luck than design. I just haven't gone home, and when Dad has come to visit, I've made sure to have something I needed to do right after his visit so he couldn't drag me out to dinner with Daniel.” She bit her bottom lip.

  Gage studied her. She was nervous. She talked faster when she was nervous. He filed that tidbit away for later. “Spit it out, Becker, what do you need?”

  She sighed. “I think I need something more drastic.”

  Gage grinned. “More drastic? So you want a full-on make-out session in front of him? I mean I'm game, but—”

  She swatted his arm, and he bit back a laugh. Man, she was cute when she was pissed off.

  “No, you giant oaf. I mean, I think I'm going to need you to keep pretending to be my boyfriend. In exchange, I'll tutor you in English, and I’ll keep it a secret.”

  He lifted a brow. “What makes you think I'm interested in this deal of yours?” he asked. He knew he fucking needed the tutoring. And right about now, his dick was all for any more chances at kissing. But he wanted to see her eyes spark with fire. Maybe he was nuts, but he kind of liked it. She pressed her lips together, and Gage licked his lips again, tasting her. “Did it ever occur to you that I might already have a girlfriend?”

  Her eyes went wide, but she squared her shoulders. “Do you?” she asked.

  He stifled a smile. “Not in the traditional sense. But, I don't necessarily want a girlfriend—”

  “I wouldn't actually be your girlfriend,” Becker interrupted. “I don't care what you do when I'm not with you.”

  “And if I don't want people to even think I have a girlfriend? What if I go to one of these parties some time and meet a girl I really do like? If she thinks I already have a girlfriend, that would kind of fuck things up for me, don't you think?”

  She narrowed her dark eyes. “I think you going to too many parties is already fucking things up for you.”

  Ouch. Direct hit. He couldn't lie, though. She had a point. But he wasn't going to take it lying down. “Wow, you sure know how to ask for help, don't you? Now, when you say exchange, what do you mean by that? I don’t have to pay you?” His eyes narrowed. As expected, her face fell a little, and her eyes drifted for a moment, before returning to his a little harder.

  “I'll give you a discount from what I was planning to charge before,” she said. “Besides, I don't think I'll need you to do much personally to keep up the illusion.”

  “Just the occasional kiss?” Fuck, did he sound hopeful? What the hell was wrong with him? He deliberately stepped into her personal space and watched as her pupils dilated and her nostrils flared. Good. She was just as affected by him. No need for him to suffer alone. Problem was, her light perfume wafted into his nostrils and shorted out a few brain cells he desperately needed. He couldn't afford to lose any now.

  He'd had plenty of sex. High school had only been the precursor to being a student athlete at Billings. From day one, pussy was pretty much on tap. And she had a point. He'd probably drunk from that tap too often.

  She swallowed hard. “I will set the ground rules, as far as what sorts of PDA will be allowed when it's necessary,” she said.

  “Okay, babe,” Gage teased. She grimaced. “Hun?” She glared. “Becks? Come on. I've got to call you something,” he insisted. “Otherwise it won't be believable.”

  She rolled her eyes before bursting out, “Fine. Becks, but nothing else. No 'babe,' or 'hun,' or 'sugar,' or anything like that.”

  “Okay then, Becks,” Gage said with relish. “Heads-up, though, we're not going to schedule our PDA. It has to look believable and natural. So when we kiss, I'll really be kissing you.”

  She blinked rapidly and cleared her throat, but she nodded. “Fine.”

  Why the hell was he inviting trouble into his life? “Just one question. Why do you need the money portion, when your father’s loaded?”

  She sighed. “It kind of goes with why I want to avoid Daniel. For one thing, I can't stand the guy. For another, even if I were to go on a date with him just to appease our fathers, I don't think he'd let it go at one date.” She shuddered. The obvious revulsion had his protective instincts flaring. Would Daniel push the issue? Gage didn’t like the idea of that asswipe pawing at her. “We grew up together, sort of, and he's always been more interested in me than I was in him.”

  “I'm not seeing how this is related to your dad's money,” Gage pointed out.

  “I'm getting there, so just shut up and listen.”

  “Quit wandering and get back to your story, then.”

  “I'm sick of my dad trying to dictate how my life will go,” she snapped at him. “With Daniel, with my career. It's gotten worse since my mom died.” She said quietly. “If I don't do what my dad wants, which, as of right now, is marry someone like Daniel and continue to build and expand the pride and glory that is my father's record company, then he'll cut me off. And I'm fine with that. I don't want anything from him. But right now, I need him to pay for college. So
the more independent I can be, the better.”

  “So if you don't want to be a record producer like your father…” Gage said slowly and carefully, making sure his understanding wasn't going to inspire another outburst from Becker. “Can I ask what you want to do?”

  She slid him a sideways glance as they made the giant loop around the courtyard. “I want to be a writer, but until I can get there, I'll settle for working as an editor in a publishing house. Most of those are in New York. There's a fellowship at a publisher in New York City that I am planning on applying to. It covers certain expenses but, since it's New York…”

  “Oh, there is no way they will cover enough for you to survive on.”

  “Hence, the money. If I start saving now, I should have enough to live if I get into the program,” she said.

  “Sounds reasonable, except for the 'if' part. You seem determined and talented enough that you should have used 'when.'“

  She looked away and he thought she might be blushing.

  “So then… We'll start tonight, with your tutoring,” Becker said, changing the subject.

  “I brought that syllabus you mentioned. I have practice this afternoon until five, but then I can meet you at the library or…your dorm? We'll never get anything done if we head back to my dorm, my roommate would spend the whole time hitting on you.”

  Her eyes went wide at that. “The library,” she said, her tone clipped. “We need to study, not play. And bring everything you have for English. Every piece of paper your professor's handed out, every assignment you've handed in, every book, short story, and article.” She stopped in front of the History Building. “Got it?”

  “Yeah, Becks, I got it.”

  She frowned up at him, then sighed. “I need to know you're going to work at this. I don't want to waste my time.”

  He cocked his head. “Same goes for you. We need each other now.” He leaned forward, and her eyes went wide.

  “What do you think you're doing?”

  “Kissing my girlfriend goodbye. It's what couples do, Becks.” He smirked.

  “I—” She sighed. “No one is watching us.”

  “This was your deal, remember. First rule to dating me, is someone is always watching.” He brushed a kiss on her cheek and had to bite back a groan at her audible gasp. His dick stood at attention. Stand down soldier. This shit isn't real. “See you later, Becks.” He left her in front of the building, wondering if he'd just made his life ten times more difficult.

  What the fuck had he just agreed to? On the plus side, he was getting the help he desperately needed for his English class. And that had been his main goal. But now, he'd been dragged into this plan. Given that Daniel was on the team, the guys would certainly hear about it, and they'd all have something to say. Not that he gave a shit. But she was Cain Johnson's daughter. And the problem with high profile was the unwanted attention. Which, given his last name, could be a problem. Like he needed any more pressure.

  And then there was the matter of what to tell his parents. No way in hell he was telling them about his grades. They'd only flip out, and the family had enough going on right now. No. He'd just get her to tutor him, in secret.

  His dad was just getting back on his feet. Echo and Cole had just gotten engaged, his mother was figuring things out as the interim CEO of the family business, and then there was the other.

  The current scandal du jour. His supposed cousin. A few papers were reporting that their grandfather had fathered a daughter. And she in turn had a son. A hockey player. The whole thing was a fat mess. They'd all been instructed not to take any media inquiries. Kind of difficult, as that was part of the package of playing for Billings.

  No. He was on his own. He could do it. Besides, it would be humiliating to crawl back to his parents and ask them to fix the things he'd fucked up.

  But if he had a new girlfriend instead of a tutor, it would be the perfect way to redirect conversations that centered on his grades. The longer he thought about the arrangement, the more he discovered different ways it would benefit him, and the more he warmed to it. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be tied down for a minute. Especially not to Becker.

  Seven

  Once again, Becker showed up early. Gage was late. But then, she was starting to expect that. What the hell had she done? Now that Avery had told her who he was, she realized she'd pretty much kamikazied from the frying pan straight into the fire.

  She'd wanted her father and Daniel off her back. But all she'd done was absolutely guarantee all eyes would now be on them. And it was only a matter of time before someone got the bright idea to call the paparazzi. She wasn't famous, but her father was. And her dating sports royalty…? That was going to be a thing. Why on earth had she allowed her mouth to run away from her? She'd thought she was avoiding the firing squad, but damn, she'd just gone out and bought every single one of them ammo.

  She could see the headlines now. Beauty and the Geek. She remembered the one time she'd been in the press's crosshairs—when her mother died. And they had not been…kind. This was going to get ugly. Could she back out? She could, except she'd pretty much kissed Gage in the center of the courtyard where everybody could see them. If she didn't go through with it, everyone would assume he'd dumped her for someone prettier, which carried its own humiliation.

  She'd created this prison for herself, and she had to live in it for the time being.

  She felt—rather than saw—Gage when he strode in through the front doors. The energy around her changed. Of course, that could also have been the girls at a nearby table who openly stared and whispered, giggling amongst themselves.

  Gage's stride was confident, easy, with a hint of swagger than made her think of a jungle cat. Most basketball players were so tall that their proportions were off. Not Gage's though. He looked like he was exactly as tall as he was supposed to be.

  He stopped at her table, and her heart thundered against her ribcage, and her breathing came in short bursts. He leaned down closer to her, and Becker swore she was never going to be able to breathe again.

  He gently cupped her face and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Sorry I'm late,” he apologized. “Practice ran a little long. Then, of course, I discovered that my roommate and this girl were uh…busy…in my room. I knocked our little signal and took a short walk to let them, uh, finish up and clear out, so I could get my stuff.”

  She should say something. Anything. But she was still shell-shocked from the unexpected contact. When she could finally unlock her jaw, she stared at him. “Was that really necessary?”

  Gage raised a brow, then grinned. “You're the one who wanted to meet in the library. There are people around, so…” He let his voice trail off.

  Shit. This was going to be so much harder than she thought. “Right. Fine, let's get to work.” Becker sorted through the papers and books, skimming through the assignments he'd turned in, along with the professor's comments, and grimacing at both.

  “What do you need me to do?” he asked, as he watched her. She had pulled out a notebook of her own, and was jotting things down.

  “Where's your syllabus?”

  “Here.” He handed it to her.

  She scanned it and found the dates she was looking for, took out her highlighter, and circled his current assignment. “Those are what you need to do for your next class. Start with them while I devise a plan of attack. It says here at the bottom that you're going to have a cumulative final and it'll make up almost half of your final grade. There's also a term paper assignment that will be another twenty percent, so as long as you make a strong showing on those two assignments, you'll be able to pass the class. And if you ace them, you'll have somewhere in the B range. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I just need to go through these things here to see where your weaknesses are, so you can focus on those.” She could do this. Plan organize, attack. She was good at this. The fake girlfriend social stuff, not so much. But she'd figure it out.

  “Wait, where are you get
ting that?” he asked, looking over the syllabus again. “It says the midterm is only worth half as much as the final?” He sighed with relief. “Thank God. I thought this was going to be next to impossible.”

  She couldn't help but smile at his relief. “Don't go getting cocky now,” she warned him. “It's still a lot of work. See how far you get in the reading, and then I'll quiz you before going over my study plan.”

  He nodded and pulled out his book, laying it onto the tabletop and hunching forward to read it. She found his positioning charmingly childlike, given the size of the paperback he had to contend with, but she shook her head and refocused her attention on the work he'd already done for the class. His biggest problem in his essays was a lack of coordination and flow; the ideas were there, but he didn't have much textual evidence to support his claims, and he misused it when it was there. This same organizational problem crept up in the short answer responses on his exams. As for the different essay styles, he had trouble differentiating between them, and seemed to be melding two together, either in confusion or to cover his bases.

  It was impossible to get a true feel for his reading comprehension when there were so many blank answers on his pop quizzes, though. Had he just run out of time, or did he really not know the answers? And so much of reading comprehension came out in class discussion, which she couldn't evaluate firsthand.

  “Okay,” she finally said, turning to look at him. “Slight change of plans. How far did you get?”

  “Um… One chapter,” he said with a shrug.

  “One chapter?” She blinked at him.

  “I'm a slow reader,” he said quietly.

  Shit. She didn't want to make him feel bad. Just because she could devour a book in half a day didn't mean everyone else could. “Okay…we'll work on that. Can I see the book?” He handed it to her and she quickly scanned through the section he'd just read to refresh her memory, before handing it back to him and starting to ask him about it.