Dreaming of a Hero (Heroes Series Book 2)

by Lyssa Layne

  Good god, I want to see that in person. This woman is gorgeous, and not just in the ‘I want to add her to my list and move on with her’ way. I mean there’s something behind that hard shell of hers and the “I don’t sleep with clients” persona she presents. My phone buzzes with a text, breaking me from my train of thought.

  Should I book your flight to Colorado for Combine?

  Speak of the She-Devil and she shall text. At least I know she’s alone on Valentine’s, but I can’t reply right away or she’ll figure I am, too. Opening the fridge, I grab another beer and take a long swig. Another weekend with Camila Lemos could mean disaster, but taking another look at the laughing lady in the picture, I push that thought aside and text back asking when our flight leaves.

  I toss the phone on the counter and start to make my way back to the couch when I notice the tent I’m sporting in my shorts. Fuck woman, you’re not even here and you have this effect on me. Screw it, I’m not spending another Valentine’s Day alone. There’s plenty of single women in San Diego that will be looking for a man tonight and I’m sure I can find one that’ll entertain me for the evening.

  Camila

  The sweet scent of pineapple fills the air as I sink into my bubble bath. In one hand, I hold a glass of Merlot and in the other, a Twinkie. It’s the only Valentine’s date I can get since Gregg ended up leaving early for spring training. I take a bite of the cream-filled sponge cake and wash it down with the wine. Perfection! Twinkies and wine are my all-time favorite indulgence.

  Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against the smooth tub. With spring training around the corner and NFL contracts next month, this is probably the only night I’ll have off for awhile. However, I was really looking forward to spending some time with Gregg. I haven’t seen him since New Year’s and a girl has needs that she just can’t take care of herself. Maybe Colie’s right and I should find someone more local. Someone like Evan Purser? As soon as that thought crosses my mind, I quickly flick my eyes open, trying to forget it, but I can’t. It lingers like a catchy song on the radio that you can’t get out of your head.

  What is it with the Purser men that always captivates me? With Blake, it’s his loyalty and commitment. Not only was he my first client, but when he had the option to jump ship to a more well-known sports agent, he refused. He’s stuck by my side since the day we met in college and as much as I sing his praises, he does the same for me. Any woman would be lucky to have Blake.

  But Evan, he’s a childish, cocky rookie who honestly believes his career revolves around playing football. If only it were that simple then I’d be out of a job. It was Blake that insisted he sign with me although Evan balked at the idea. Evan still thinks like a man from the fifties era where women belong in the kitchen, not working beside men. He’s exactly the opposite of Blake and nothing about his personality is attractive, so why can I not stop thinking about him?

  Sighing, I know exactly why. Because he’s my type—strong, fearless, dominant. As much as I would love to let my guard down, there’s no way I will ever give in to Evan Purser. On the outside and to the sports world, I am those exact things I love in a man—strong, fearless, dominant, but I can never let anyone, especially Evan, know that I prefer to let someone take control of me. That I want to be pampered and coddled by a man. That I wish I could find a man who would take care of everything, everywhere.

  I slide under the bubbles, letting the water consume me and trying to erase my thoughts. Only once have I ever slipped up and been intimate with a client. Never again will it happen. Even though I’ve been in the field for four years, I still have to prove myself day in and day out to all the men in my profession. Sleeping around is a sure way to lose everything I’ve worked so hard for.

  Even with the water covering my ears, I can hear my phone beep with an incoming text message. Reaching my hand out of the water, I tap my fingers on the towel, drying them off. Then I feel along the edge until I find my phone and pick it up. Thumbing through until I open my text messages, I see the new one that has just appeared from D.J., one of the bouncers that works at a few clubs around town.

  One of your boys is having some fun at Project Chaos

  Sitting up, I quickly text back and ask him who. D.J. doesn’t necessarily work for me, but he keeps his eyes and ears open and lets me know any information floating around about my players. When he replies back, I guzzle the rest of my wine and make a call to my car service. Looks like I won’t be alone on Valentine’s Day anymore… and I also won’t be escaping Evan Purser.

  CHAPTER 5

  Evan

  The walls are bumping from the bass of the music, the lights are shining in every direction, and the place is packed from wall to wall. Sitting in the dark corner of the club, I’m laid back and enjoying the scene in front of me—a cute brunette coed between my legs. It was her idea and I wasn’t about to stop her. The bouncer in the corner is sending death stares across the room but I don’t see anyone else complaining.

  The whiskey in my glass is chilled from the ice, but it’s a nice slow burn as it slides down my throat. Patting the back of the brunette’s head, I grin knowing she’s about to experience the same thing. I close my eyes and bounce my head with the music, enjoying the warmth of her mouth around my manhood. I may become a fan of Valentine’s Day after all.

  Abruptly, my new friend stops what she’s doing. When I open my eyes, Camila Lemos is pulling her up by her hair. “Don’t let this be your fifteen minutes of fame, sweetie,” Camila tells her and guides her away from the booth.

  Tucking myself back in my pants as I stand up, I object, “What the hell, Cami? I don’t barge in and interrupt you and Blake.”

  Unlike the other girls in the club who have obviously spent hours getting ready, Camila’s messy bun and simple make-up achieve a sexy, natural look and she’s commanding the attention from almost every guy in the club. Camila looks hot in the black leather pants and metallic gold t-shirt she’s wearing. Her heels only set her a few inches shorter than me and the scoop neck of her shirt gives me plenty of cleavage to enjoy.

  She rolls her eyes, leaning over and taking a long drink of my whiskey. When she sets the drink back down, she looks up at me. “It’s Camila, you’d never barge in on Blake and me since we are just friends, and what the hell are you doing in L.A.?”

  I grin, knowing how much she hates when I call her Cami. Honestly, I made the two-hour trip to L.A. in hopes of running into her, but I’m not going to tell her that. “No good chicks in San Diego tonight. Figured I’d drive here and find one to pull an all-nighter with.”

  “Keep this shit up and you won’t be getting any contract offers. No team wants a player on their team that’s been arrested for lewd conduct,” she says and turns away from the table.

  “Lewd conduct? Since when is a guy getting head lewd conduct?” I ask, walking after her.

  She stops quickly and turns to me. She braces herself or else I would have stomped right over her. Both her hands on my chest, she tries to give me a shove to put some space between us, but her small stature is nothing compared to mine. “You can get all the head you want, from whomever you want, just not in public.” She continues walking toward the exit and I follow.

  “Where are you going?” I ask as we stand outside and she shivers from the cold air. I reach over, placing my large hands over her arms and rubbing them.

  “Back to my place and you’re coming with me,” she states, her teeth chattering as she does.

  I cock my head to the side and grin. “Gonna finish what Kari started in there?”

  A car pulls up to the sidewalk and a driver gets out, rushing to our side to open the door. Camila pulls away from me, rolling her eyes and pushing me inside.

  “You wish,” she mutters. I crawl into the back of the town car and when I look out, I see her slipping money to the bouncer that was staring me down. So, that’s how she found me…not that I’m complaining.

  Camila climbs in beside me and the driver tak
es off. There’s plenty of room for both of us in the backseat, even with my size, but I don’t scoot over. Instead, I move my arm around her shoulders and stay in the middle seat. That floral perfume she wore in Arizona tantalizes me again, but when I start to lean in to make a move, I stop. Blake’s words come to mind—don’t fuck with her, show her respect. He’s my big brother and while we definitely don’t see eye to eye on most things, I know it’s not cool to make a move on his woman. But they both deny that they’re together, so maybe it’s alright…

  I lean back, letting my hand drape over her shoulder and my fingers play with her necklace. She doesn’t even acknowledge me as she checks her email on her phone. I clear my throat and she finally looks in my direction.

  “So, honestly, are you screwing my brother?”

  Camila throws up her hands. “Why does everyone think that? Blake and I are just friends.”

  I smile at her reaction. It’s the first time I’ve seen her show any kind of frustration. I move my hand so that my thumb and index finger can massage her shoulder. “You and Blake are inseparably, attached at the hip. He’s your date to every dinner, gala, and everything in between. You’re in the first row at every game, and I know it’s not for me, so it’s more than obvious why everyone would think you two are an item.”

  Camila tilts her head back against the seat, the stray hairs from her bun tickling my arm as she does. She lets out a long sigh and rubs her forehead. “Except that we’re not an item. We’re friends, just friends.”

  I nod, still moving my hand against her shoulder. My other hand pats her thigh. “No one buys that crap. You’re both young, good looking people, so why aren’t you two dating or at least dating other people?”

  Slowly, she turns to look me in the eyes. Instead of the happiness in her eyes like in the photo on Blake’s fridge, all I see is exhaustion. Fuck, I’m not her only client. She probably never has time to date anyone. Even if she wanted to, especially if she has to chase after them all like tonight. Of course, tonight I was crying for her attention.

  “Honestly? For Blake, he prefers his privacy, as do I. So when we take each other as dates to events, it’s because we don’t want people invading our personal lives. I’ll say it one more time and then I’m done. Blake and I are not dating or anything else for that matter.”

  The car pulls through a high walled and gated estate. It comes to a stop and I look out the window. Ahead of me is a house similar to Blake’s and the majority of other houses in California, big and expensive. Camila steps out of the car and walks to the front door, punching a code on the keypad and turning to see if I’m behind her. Quickly, I jump out of the car and follow her inside.

  Taking a look around, I note that Camila’s house isn’t styled much differently than Blake’s, but then again, I’m sure she decorated both places. It’s an open floor plan so you can see almost every room from the foyer. The house is bathed in colors of white, tan, and gold, nothing too personal at first glance.

  The click of Camila’s heels stop and I look in the direction of where the noise was coming from. She stands on the third step of the staircase, pointing down the hall. “Guest room is off of the living room. You’ll find everything you need in the bathroom or the closet.”

  Without waiting for me to respond, she turns and continues up the stairs. I watch her hips sway and the movement in my pants reminds me that the brunette never finished what she started back at the club. Before Camila is out of sight, I call to her. “Night, Cami. Sweet dreams.”

  She hesitates, but doesn’t respond to my pet name. I grin as I make my way to the guest room. I may not have scored on Valentine’s Day, but straight from her mouth, she confirmed that she’s not dating my brother, which means she’s fair game.

  The guest room doesn’t give me much insight of what kind of woman Camila Lemos is. Much like the rest of the house, there’s no pictures of her or any clue to what her interests may be. I tug off my shirt and pants then take a seat on the guest bed. Curiosity gets the best of me so I open the drawer to the nightstand and bingo! A blindfold, handcuffs, and a picture of Camila wearing a bikini greet me. It’s a simple, teal, string bikini, but it clings to her body, showcasing every curve the woman has. My cock stirs under my boxers and I pull it out. I might not be in bed with her, but I can still enjoy her tonight.

  Camila

  Staring at the clock I can’t take it anymore. It was after two when Evan and I got back from the club and I’ve seen every hour on the clock since I laid down. It’s barely daylight but I can’t stand just lying here in bed, especially with Evan Purser in my downstairs bedroom.

  The ride back to my house last night was the longest ride across town I’ve ever experienced. Evan was right on top of me, well, not exactly how I’d like him to be on top of me—Camila, stop!

  His cologne reminded me of what the jocks wore in high school. I can’t remember the name, but it was strong and musky with just a hint of oranges and maybe green apples. Although he was drinking off a $200 bottle of malt Scotch whiskey, he wore department store jeans and a plain white button-up shirt. Evan obviously likes to indulge in expensive alcohol and women, but judging from his appearance and his living arrangement, he hasn’t fully submerged into the world of being a million dollar athlete. This is good because it means that not everything is about the money and hopefully, he’s still in it for the game. Once a player crosses over and lets money rule, he’s a lost cause, which is one of the many reasons I usually only represent seasoned athletes.

  Throwing back the sheet, I walk downstairs to the kitchen in my navy and floral print yoga pants and a plain white V-neck t-shirt with nothing underneath. I’m sure Evan won’t be awake for awhile so I can enjoy a cup of coffee, take a shower, even catch up on some work before I have to figure out how to get him back to San Diego.

  A few minutes later, I’m inhaling the rich aroma of my coffee. I don’t necessarily enjoy the bitterness or the earthy taste of the Brazilian roast that I brew daily, but it’s a small part of my day that reminds me of home. While I was born and raised in the States, my parents, originally from Brazil, kept their native culture alive in our house.

  Both of my parents passed away while I was in college, right before I met Blake, which is another reason our relationship is so strong. The Purser brothers don’t have much of a home life either, it being just the two of them and their alcoholic mother. Blake hated going home and when we founded our friendship, he used my lack of family as an excuse to stay with me on holidays. Blake and I have a complicated relationship that obviously no one understands, but long story short, we’re family.

  Deep in my thoughts, I barely hear the grumbling behind me. Startled, I spin around and am staring at a six-foot-plus linebacker in only his boxers. Evan Purser may be almost three-hundred pounds but there is no fat on this man. No, there’s only muscle after muscle, flexing and rolling as he twists his body.

  Get it together, Camila. I’ve seen linebackers, quarterbacks, fullbacks, halfbacks, every athlete in the world of professional sports like this before. Evan Purser is no different than any of them. Except for the fact that I can feel myself being turned on right now. I look down into my cup of coffee, only to see my nipples peaked and at full attention. Glancing back up, Evan is standing almost directly in front of me.

  “What are you doing up so early?”

  Evan grins and leans forward, kissing my cheek. My stomach flutters and I can feel my face flush.

  “Well, good morning to you, too, sunshine,” he says with a smirk.

  I roll my eyes. “Are you a coffee drinker?”

  He shakes his head, turning up his nose. “Keep that shit away from me. I could really go for some water.”

  Perfect escape. I slip by him and open the refrigerator door. I make small talk about the flight plans to Combine. Why I even invited him, I have no idea. Oh, right, because I’m a professional and Evan needs my help to get the contract he wants.

  I bend over to grab a bottle of
water on the bottom shelf when I feel his body against mine. His morning wood presses against my yoga pants, that and his boxers are the only barrier between our skin. His semi-erection is the size of most men’s regular hard on. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m getting wetter by the second.

  He leans over and his massive upper body envelopes mine. I swallow the lump in my throat, but when his hand brushes against the edge of my breast as he reaches for the gallon of orange juice, I think I might orgasm right there. Dammit, Gregg, I could have really used you last night.

  “Should I assume you cooking breakfast is out of the option?” Evan asks as he stands up and leans against the counter.

  Slowly, I straighten up, taking a small breath and turning to face the grinning asshole. I study his face, trying to figure out what he thinks he knows and then I remember. Last time Gregg was in town, I was on the road, but he stayed at my place. I left him a picture of me in a skimpy bikini along with a blindfold and handcuffs, leaving a note and telling him to think of me. Last time I checked, it was still in the drawer. Evan must’ve looked in the nightstand drawer and now he thinks he has something on me. Fine, two can play at this game.

  “How do you like your eggs?”

  “Hard,” he says with a grin and I see his boxers twitch.

  Smirking, I walk past him, accidentally bumping him and he lets out a small moan. I glance over my shoulder when I answer. “You’ll have to settle for scrambled.” I bend over in front of him to get the skillet and I hear him suck in his breath.