Game, Set, Match (A Humorous Contemporary Romance) (Love Match)

by Malone, Nana

  Finally, Aaron’s eyes darted back and forth between him and Simon, and he directed Simon back to the far side of the studio to presumably discuss the shoots.

  When they were out of ear shot, Jason leaned into her, caught a mild scent of jasmine and vanilla that made him ache. “Are you two serious?”

  Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  Jason inclined his head toward Simon and Aaron. “You and Mr. Slick.”

  She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  He nodded, a little disappointed. “I’ll take that as a yes. Does he make you happy?” He couldn’t stop the question as it tripped off his tongue. Simon wasn’t the kind of guy he saw her with. And you are?

  “What part of ‘It’s none of your business’ don’t you understand?”

  He gave her his best grin. “I have this condition where I filter out what I don’t want to hear.”

  She might not have wanted to, but the corners of her lips turned up in an exasperated semblance of a smile. Dimples greeted him.

  Taking his chance, he opted for innocuous and asked, “Why don’t you come out to the house to play some tennis. I’ve got the courts available all day every day.”

  He watched her reaction with interest. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted as she shook her head. On a breathless whisper she said, “I don’t play anymore.” He wondered if she’d meant to inject a double entendre into her tone.

  Curiosity piqued. Not ready to give up, he pressed, eager to elicit another breathless response. “You don’t play anymore, or you don’t play with me? I don’t bite you know. You used to live for the game.” He grinned, sure he’d probably pushed too far.

  Her lips twitched as she attempted to contain her smile. He knew her well. Knew how she’d respond. Or, at least, hoped he knew. He changed the subject to a more comfortable topic. “You said you did the Masai prints in limited release? Do you think I can order a couple?”

  “Yeah, of course. I have some contact sheets in storage I can show you if you like. Then I’ll frame it up if you find a photo you want.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Her dark brows drew in. “What? Now?”

  “Why put off until tomorrow...”

  “Okay, this way.” She led him through the studio to a work area, turning back to call out to Simon and Aaron as she unlocked the door. “I’m just going to pull some contact sheets to show to Jason.”

  The moment the door unlatched, Jason’s eyes scanned the clutter of canvases leaned up against the wall and shelves stacked with supplies and boxes of contact sheets. Framing pieces littered the walls in no discernible order.

  “Wow, this place is like a treasure trove.”

  She muttered something noncommittal as she scanned the names on some of the boxes, running her fingers against each one before moving on to the next. Her fingers traced the lettering on each box as if she read by brail. “I know they’re around here somewhere…” Her voice trailed off as she scanned the top shelf. “There we go.”

  He stepped to assist her as she pulled the edge of a box out by her fingertips, careful to avoid tipping it over. “Are you sure you don’t want any—”

  Her gasp of shock and alarm propelled him into action. He rushed behind her and held the box still as it teetered between the brink of leveling back on the shelf or crashing on Izzy’s head.

  He adjusted the box, but it didn’t stabilize, all he succeeded in doing was to shove Izzy further against the shelves. Not to mention, his semi erect cock ground into the small of her back.

  Izzy groaned out a curse.

  Jason’s body seconded her epithet. With every breath Izzy took, her body rubbed against his. Blood roared into his rapidly hardening cock. “Are you okay?” he asked as he inhaled her scent. He felt her shove against the bookshelf, but he didn’t budge.

  “Let me go, Jason.” Her voice came out squeaky and breathless. It only intensified the blood rush in his head.

  “I’m working on it, but if you want me to stabilize this thing,” he bit back a groan as she wiggled again. And if you want to keep your clothes on… “I suggest you don’t move.”

  He shoved the box back on the shelf and gave her more breathing room, but not much. He moved back three inches and placed his hands on her waist to steady her. “Are you okay?”

  Izzy dragged in gulps of air, one hand clasped her hand at her midriff. “Yeah. I think so. I didn’t realize it was so heavy. Normally I—”

  Her ramble cut off midstream. His guess, now that she was no longer in pain, she noticed the insistent penis pressed into the small of her back. He cleared his throat and tried for light and casual, but didn’t release her. “If you wanted to get me alone, Izzy, there are less dangerous ways to do it.”

  She turned in his grasp to look at him and narrowed her eyes. “No one can be that egotistical.” She shrugged. “Besides, you asked for a print. I’m not going to turn down a potential sale.”

  He bit back a hiss as she rubbed up against him—willed his hormones under control. Too bad they didn’t listen to the command. Need crashed through him, and his cock twitched against her belly. He knew the moment she felt the movement, as her eyes flickered to where they touched, then back to his face.

  In her gaze, he recognized the dilated pupils, awareness and apprehension. “I prefer the term confident to egotistical.”

  “Spoken like a jackass cursed with too much charm.”

  His hands tightened on her waist in reflex. He knew he should release her, but he couldn’t do it. Not yet. He forced a smile on his lips, denying every instinct to rush. “Well, at least you think I have charm.”

  She blinked at him several times, shook her head. “Nothing fazes you, does it?”

  His eyes fixated on her full lips, her pretty pink tongue peeking out to moisten her lower lip. On a groan, he lowered his head, watched for a reaction. Her full breasts rubbed against his suit as she dragged in ragged breaths. Commingling their breaths, he tipped her head up to look in her eyes. “Have you ever thought about me in all these years?”

  She cleared her throat as her body leaned imperceptibly toward him. Before Izzy could answer, the woman with the bright pink hair poked her head into the storage room. “Iz, I’ve got the supplier for the frames on the phone. There’s an emergency with your next shipment.”

  Jason watched as her gaze flicked to her assistant, then to him. “I—ah—need to take that.” She extricated herself from his grip and rushed out.

  She was lying. She’d always had that look of panic on her face when she lied. He knew a rescue when he saw one. He followed her out to join Simon and Aaron.

  He didn’t see her again before he left, but he’d managed to get her cell phone number from the wacky receptionist.

  He told himself all he wanted was to apologize to her. To explain why he’d never gone back for her. But even as he completed the thought, he knew it was a lie. He wanted a whole lot more from Izzy Connors.

  Chapter Four

  An eerie luminescent moon hung low over the ocean as Jason slammed ball after ball over the net. He might not be able to run any balls down or serve yet, but at least he could hit some balls over the net. He needed this. Screw the fact he couldn’t take a step without pain. He could hit.

  It beat lying in bed and thinking about the state of his career. It beat thinking about how he could pull off a comeback. It beat lying in bed thinking about Izzy Connors. Of all the photographers in all the world.

  One touch of her soft chocolate skin, and he couldn’t get her out of his head. Her scent, her touch, her remembered taste. He needed his head in the game. Shit, it had been a long time since a sport magazine had wanted to do a feature on him, let alone Sports Illustrated. He couldn’t have chosen better if he’d picked the photographer himself.

  He just needed to get her out of his head. If only—

  “Jason, baby, are you down there?” A woman’s soft voice trailed
down to him from the balcony.

  Shit, Delilah. Awake and attention hungry. She wore one of his button down shirts as she padded down the stairs to the courts.

  He’d never cursed their friends-with-benefits arrangement more than he did now. As a friend, he couldn’t throw her out. But neither could he take the benefits she’d offered. “Hey Delilah, I see you’re awake.”

  Her lips lifted in a sleepy smile. “I told you I never should have had so much wine. Especially red. Puts me out.” She gestured to his shirt, the corner of her lip tugged up. “I hope you don’t mind. I had to find something to wear out here since it’s a little chilly.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the clothes you wore over here?”

  She angled her head to give him a smirk. Her hips sashayed from left to right as she sauntered toward him, careful to avoid the balls from the ball machine. “Well, I went upstairs to seduce you once I woke up, and you weren’t there. I’d already taken all my clothes off.”

  In a blink, he perused her willowy, half naked form. Dark hair and pale skin gleamed in the moonlight. She’d left the shirt unbuttoned at the bust line, perhaps in the hopes of creating cleavage. It didn’t work. But it’s not like models were known for their bust lines unless they worked for Victoria’s Secret. She was gorgeous and elegant and sexy.

  Yet, he didn’t want her. He’d made this date before he’d seen Izzy again, and now, all he wanted was her luminous dark skin under his hands, not Delilah’s.

  As she drew closer to him, his nostrils filled with the scent of expensive perfume. Her arms looped around his neck, and she whispered, “How come you’re out here all by yourself? I could have come down with you.” She indicated the leather upholstered benches. “We could have christened those.”

  He gulped past the lump in his throat even as he removed himself from her embrace. “We already did remember? Those used to be on the balcony.”

  Her brow furrowed as she stepped into his space, again she trailed fingertips down his torso. “That may be, but didn’t anyone ever tell you, to christen things properly, you need to do it at least twice?”

  Damn. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the fevered attraction he’d felt for her when they met at Mr. Chow’s six months ago to overtake him. Now, all he felt was mild affection. She wasn’t Izzy.

  If he felt like this already, and he’d only seen her once, he was in for a world of trouble.

  “I think I might have heard that somewhere before.” He stroked Delilah’s cheek with his finger. “Tell you what, why don’t you head upstairs to my bedroom. I’ll use the outdoor shower to clean up, and I’ll join you in bed.”

  A small pout marred her otherwise perfect face, but she didn’t argue. “Okay, but don’t make me wait too long.”

  He nodded his acquiescence even as he did a mental calculation as to which guest bedroom had an extra pair of clothes for him to wear in the morning, so he didn’t have to wake her by going into his room when he woke up. She’d be disappointed, but better that, than he attempt to sleep with her while he imagined Izzy, beneath him, on top of him, in front of him. It was a recipe for torture. Not like he hadn’t done it before, but he was too tired for charades.

  He turned on the shower and hissed a curse as ice water sluiced his arm. As he sent a silent prayer that the water would warm, he unfastened his brace. Only one more day, and he could toss the albatross. Unaccustomed to the weight, his bad leg wobbled, but he remained upright as he scooted into the stall.

  Stars illuminated the sky and winked at him as the water ran through his hair. He saw his bedroom light fade out just as he finished. His cock twitched in hopeless protest as the wish of accessible pussy winked out with the light.

  As if on cue, his mind went to the one place he didn’t want it to go. The vision of him and Izzy in her storage closet fanned his memory before he could prevent it. Every muscle he had tensed at the recall of her body molded to his, at the memory of her movements against him. The hitch he’d heard in her voice, the way her pupils dilated.

  Shit. He’d never get any sleep this way. Wrapping his fist around his cock, he pumped the soap slickened flesh in a slow, deliberate motion. As blood surged to his groin, he pictured Izzy on her knees before him, all that glorious hair slicked back with water as she wrapped those luscious lips around him.

  He could almost feel her tongue lap the length of him before circling the tip in a deliberate motion. He could feel her delicate hands, wrapped around his girth as she stroked in time to her suckling mouth.

  Blood roared through his head. He slapped a hand against the shower stall to steady himself against his release. He bit off a stream of colorful curses as he dragged in gulps of air. He had to get Izzy Connors out of his head before she completely derailed his comeback.

  Chapter Five

  Izzy knew what obsession was. Knew the pain, joy, danger of it. But it didn’t stop her rebellious brain from keeping up with the obsession. She couldn’t take her mind off of him. The way he smelled, felt, sounded. And she, like a fool had wanted to fall for it. When did I become a masochist?

  The way he’d held her as if they were the only two people in the world. That was classic Jason. She coaxed her previously focused, normal, non-obsessed brain into this parody of a working one. The way he’d brazenly asked her to play. Who said that? She could just imagine what game he wanted to play. He may have substituted the word tennis for sex, but she knew him better. She’d played before, and lost.

  As hard as she tried to focus, she couldn’t drag her mind back to work. Though, she supposed, if she had to choose between Jason’s unceremonious reentry into her life or Sabrina’s, Jason’s was marginally more welcome.

  Over the years, avoiding him wasn’t an issue. They moved in vastly different circles. Los Angeles could be as immense and limitless as any galaxy. The only time she’d been unable to avoid him was televised tennis matches. She no longer played, but Nick did. And, as her bad luck would have it, he idolized Jason.

  What she needed was a serious distraction. Maybe it was time to refocus her energies where they belonged, with Simon. With someone who was dependable and stable, and didn’t say inappropriate things to her about coming to play—

  Jessica interrupted her thoughts. “Your new Canon came in.”

  She looked up from the paperwork on her desk to see Jessica shifting from foot to foot in the doorway, excitement vibrating off her body.

  “And are you going to tell me the deal with tall, blond and hot enough to melt in your mouth?”

  Izzy worked to keep her grin under wraps. Jessica had shown remarkable, uncharacteristic restraint through a night of Arts and Tarts, the cleanup afterwards, not to mention taking pity on Izzy’s world weary appearance last night. But now, it was morning. And she wanted answers.

  Only, Izzy didn’t want to talk about Jason. He already occupied far more of her brain power than she cared to admit. She considered exhaustion as an excuse but Jessica held the camera package in her arms, and Izzy had been waiting for that camera for weeks.

  With a deep sigh of acquiescence, she mumbled, “There’s nothing to tell.”

  Jessica placed the FedEx box on a shelf and plopped herself in the guest chair. Delicate, pierced eyebrow raised, she wouldn’t let Izzy out of her trap. “Don’t lie to me. You’re terrible at it. I caught you two in the closet having a moment. A blind man could see the sizzle between you. Not to mention, I know you never miss one of his matches. Give me the deets.”

  Izzy cringed at her exposed secret and stood up to inspect the package on the shelf. She fiddled with the box, but resisted the urge to tear it open like a kid on Christmas. It’s not like she had the time to play with it anyway.

  “There was no sizzle, no tension. Nothing happened in the closet. He stopped a box from falling on my head. That’s all.” Hand on her hips, she huffed. “We’re old friends. That’s it. In fact, I wouldn’t even call us friends. More like acquaintances.” Her fingers played with the ta
pe on the box as she angled her head to give Jessica a look. “And I don’t watch all his matches. I do happen to love tennis, you know.” She rolled her eyes for exaggerated effect, before she added, “Besides, isn’t he getting married to that actress, the tiny, pert blond one?”

  Jessica leaned forward. “The plot thickens. What’s the matter, Iz, jealous? Are you two lost lovers?” Jessica rubbed her hands together with maniacal glee. “Even better than I imagined.”

  Izzy laughed and shook her head. “No plot. Just…” Izzy’s voice trailed off as she searched for the right word. “Friends. Never lovers.”

  Not for lack of trying.

  Jessica shook her head. “Even if I believed that, which I don’t, but if I did, that doesn’t change the fact you need to get some, and he’s clearly interested. Even daft Simon couldn’t have missed that. And I heard what he said about going to play at his house.” She shivered. “So hot. I’d be more than happy to go and play with him.”

  “A, I do not need to get some. B, he is not interested. Trust me. And C, have you forgotten Simon and I might start something? And see earlier comment about Mr. Hot Enough to Melt in Your Mouth getting married.” She sighed. “And don’t call Simon daft.”

  Jessica snorted a dismissal. “When are you going to realize that you and Simon have no future? He’s not what you need, no matter how much he insists he is. And that you can’t believe everything you read in a trashy tabloid.”

  “This from the woman who lives and dies by Perez Hilton.”

  “Answer me this, Batman. Does Simon make you feel the way that Jason did yesterday?” Jessica continued to give her stern look, and Izzy grew warm under her discerning gaze. She didn’t want to talk about Simon. Not with Jessica, certainly not with Jason.

  She’d played Jason’s conversation through her head since yesterday. How dare he question her relationship with Simon? Her relationships were her business. He’d opted out of her life years ago.