by Lyssa Layne
Back at the James’ deck, I give Shadow a bowl of water which he quickly laps up before finding the perfect shade spot on the patio and plopping down. Behind me, there’s a giant splash and I’m sprayed with water as Blake jumps in the pool wearing nothing but his boxers.
“Get in, Cam, the water feels great,” Blake calls to me, treading water in the deep end.
I’ve been wandering the beach for almost two hours. My skin is salty from my sweat with little beads of sand sticking to almost every inch of my body. Without being asked twice, I dive head first into the pool, wearing my UnderArmour running capris and matching red striped sports bra. Blake is right, the water is cool and refreshing, washing away my stress of the afternoon.
Blake walks across the shallow end of the pool while I float beneath the water, only my head sticking out. Remembering Blake was in L.A. with Evan for a photoshoot I booked him later in the week, curiosity gets the best of me. “So…was Evan with you?”
Blake nods. “Yeah, jackass didn’t want to stick around and help.”
I chew on my bottom lip, trying not to take it personally that he didn’t stay. “He’s not a dog fan?”
Blake’s shoulders move up and down. “You should know, you two have been spending a lot of time together.” And I know by the tone of his voice that he’s not making a statement. No, he’s making an accusation.
I roll my eyes, trying to play it off. “It’s his off season, he’s bored and I’m just doing my job.”
Blake scoffs and I know he’s about to call my bluff. “Bullshit, Camila. I hear you two on the phone, giddy and flirting. I’ve noticed you haven’t seen Gregg since spring training AND you let him call you Cami.” His eyes narrow because Blake’s the culprit that made me hate Cami.
Deflecting and hoping to not respond, I dunk underwater and swim to the stairs. As soon as I surface, Blake’s voice calls from behind me. “Cami, don’t do this, don’t go back on your rule.”
Halfway up the stairs, I turn to him, holding on to the railing. “Blake, don’t be ridiculous.”
His cocky attitude pisses me off and he knows it. “Who’s being ridiculous, Cam? You know you can’t turn down a Purser.”
A chill washes over my body and I take a step back into the water. “Don’t even think about bringing up the past or telling Evan anything about it.”
Blake smirks. “What’s it to you?”
I shake my head, laughing. In some ways, the Purser brothers are exactly alike. I splash water in his direction, making a direct hit in the face. Blake moves his hand quickly, splashing me as hard as he can and grabbing my ankle before I can climb out of the water. When his attack is over, he pulls me to him, my arm around his neck, and he looks down at me.
“Look, Cam, I know that we’re a thing of the past, but you’re the one that pushed me away, saying it would ruin your reputation. I respected your decision, have stuck by your side, and you know I’d do anything in the world for you, but don’t make a mistake you’ll regret.”
I sigh and bring my other arm around his shoulder, giving him a tight hug. A long time ago, my choice was something we both regretted, but once it had been made, there was no turning back. I needed Blake’s support as much as he needed mine and we couldn’t risk our careers on the fallouts of a break-up so we’d both decided friendship was the path for us.
Kissing his cheek, he drops my legs and I float back. “You’ve found your happy, Blake. When do I get to find mine?”
CHAPTER 13
Camila
“I hate you guys,” Colie says, pouting while simultaneously drooling over Mia’s and my lattes.
“Sorry, Cole. I know where you’re coming from,” Mia responds sympathetically, rubbing Colie’s six-month baby belly.
I take a long sip, letting out an exaggerated murmur of delight. “Mmm, this caramel latte is the best. So sweet, lots of caffeine, I might even get another.”
Colie swats at me, her bracelet jangling. “You suck, Camila.”
Laughing, I pat her hand. “So, ultrasound said girl. Is Grant beside himself?”
“Oh my gosh! You should see all the pink he’s bought, it’s like Pepto Bismol was barfed all over the new nursery. This little girl is going to have her daddy wrapped around her finger.” Colie’s blonde hair bobs up and down as she talks, her hand rubbing her belly. The grin on her face is contagious.
With a smile, I turn to Mia. “How’s Toby doing with Barrett?”
Now, Mia’s face is adorned with the look of maternal pride. “Toby adores his little brother. He insists on reading to Barrett before bedtime. And watching Tate with the two of them, some days I just can’t handle all the cuteness.”
“Just wait until they start having farting contests, Grant’s already started that with Liam.” Colie comments, acting disgusted, but there’s still a smile in her eyes.
Mia laughs and turns to me. “What’s new with you, Camila? I haven’t heard you talk about Gregg lately.”
My cheeks flush red and suddenly, my latte cup is the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen. Picking at the label, I shrug. “We’ve decided to take a break, no big deal.”
“His idea or yours?” Colie interrogates, leaning forward, eyebrows arched.
“Um, I guess mine,” I fumble, knowing I can’t hide anything from these girls.
“Which Purser?” Colie inquires.
“Colie!” Mia scolds, a tone she rarely even uses on Toby. “Camila’s told us there’s nothing between her and Blake.”
“Thanks, Mia,” I mumble.
Mia’s eyes get slightly wider. “But you’ve never said anything about Evan…”
“Yeah, you two were spending a lot of time together…” Colie adds on.
Suddenly feeling bashful, like I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, I open my mouth, but no words come out. When I start to speak again, I’m saved by my phone which shrills loudly. Relieved to not have to respond to their insinuation, I answer without looking while Mia and Colie talk amongst themselves.
“Camila Lemos.”
“What the hell do you have me doing?” a male voice booms on the other end, stopping my friends dead in their conversation. Immediately, I recognize Evan’s voice and excuse myself from the table, walking outside to take the phone call.
“Evan, what are you talking about?” I say in a loud whisper so he can hear me but not passerbys.
“This fuckin’ photoshoot! They want me to dress up like a gladiator, I look like a fuckin’ idiot!”
“Calm down, Evan.”
“Get your ass down here, Cami and fix it,” he orders and hangs up. My heart is racing but not at his anger. No, I finally get to see the man that’s been keeping me awake at night.
Evan
Sitting in my dressing room, I’m pouting like a fuckin’ five-year-old. Camila thought she was doing me a favor by booking this photoshoot for a new men’s cologne, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to dress up like a fool for all of America to make fun of. Plus, now I get to see her, even if I don’t want to. She’s like an addiction that I can’t break and it pisses me off to no end.
My leg bounces, tapping my foot quickly against the floor. I shake my head in disbelief that the photographer, Raul, wanted me to wear nothing but a gladiator costume not even big enough to cover my package. I mean, if they’re selling to women then I guess he’s on to something. Still, I refuse to look like an idiot. I can only imagine the heat I’ll get from my teammates, whoever they might be this coming season.
The door opens and Camila walks in, slamming the door behind her. She’s wearing a pair of holey jeans and a peach striped tank top that pushes her cleavage out of the top. My cock twitches just at the sight of her and when she’s within a couple feet of me, I smell her ginger and floral scent teasing me. Good thing I got laid last night or I would already have her naked on the couch, not even caring about why I’m pissed at her.
“Do not call me like that again, Evan. You signed the contract so we�
�ve got to shoot something today or else they’ll charge you for the studio fee.” She puffs up her chest, trying to sound more confident than she is, but I can tell from the red creeping over her neck that she’s uncomfortable.
Standing up, mainly to show my dominance, but also so that our chests are touching, I glare down at her. “Then fix the fuckin’ problem.”
Her brown eyes stare into mine, neither of us wanting to blink first. Her red, plump lips are just begging for me to kiss them and I have a feeling that Camila wouldn’t push me away. Stubborn, definitely something we both have in common as we stand there, neither of us backing down. Finally, she ends our showdown with an exasperated sigh and turns to leave the room.
The door slightly ajar, I listen to Raul and Camila yelling at each other in another language. I don’t know what the hell she’s saying, but she’s turning me on. Fuck the lowball offer San Diego put in, screw it that Camila is pushing me away to Chicago, when she gets back in this room, I’m going to end what we started at the draft.
My trance is broken when the door flings open, pounding into the wall behind it. Camila stands in the doorway, looking pissed, her eyebrows narrowed and her lips pursed. She points at me and waves her finger. “Get undressed.”
“What?”
“New idea, get undressed. Wardrobe and make-up will be here in five minutes and don’t you dare be a diva,” she warns and turns without another word.
Wearing nothing but a pair of extra small boxer briefs and a spray-on tan, the photographer’s assistant walks me in front of the camera. I squint from all the lights and look around for Camila, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Raul, a middle-aged, dark-skinned man with platinum blonde hair leans out from behind the camera.
“Your partner will be here in a moment,” he says without even making eye contact. I don’t care if he is the best photographer in the world, the man is fuckin’ full of himself.
“My partner?” I question, still oblivious to what the hell is going on.
“Your partner.” I turn toward Camila’s voice and see her walking toward me. Her brown hair is unnaturally wavy and teased high, her usual beautiful face is covered in make-up, making her look like a Barbie doll, but unlike me, she’s not covered in spray tan. Her natural, Brazilian skin is the only part of her right now that is the real Camila. My eyes travel up and down her scantily covered body, wearing only a nude colored thong and strapless bra.
“No Gladiator, lovers instead,” Raul barks from behind the camera.
Camila steps in front of me and I desperately want to reach out for her. I’ve missed her, not just her sexy body, but her. The woman that laughs with me, that listened to me cry, the woman that I once trusted. The woman I want to be my lover.
Her eyes narrow and she’s obviously not happy. “Don’t say a word, Evan. I’m saving both our asses right.”
Even if I wanted to comment, I couldn’t. Raul moves beside us, shoving my hand on her ass and positioning her arms on my chest. He snaps a series of shots, trying to get the vibe of Camila begging for me, but the poses aren’t coming naturally for either of us and Raul is screaming. If it weren’t for being able to touch Camila, I would’ve broken the man’s fuckin’ camera by now.
Camila turns to the camera. “Raul, can we try a few things on our own?”
The irritated photographer throws up his hand, beginning a rant about how he’s an expert and knows more than she does. Camila ignores him and looks up at me. “Follow me, okay?”
She turns her back to me, leaning against my body and the teeny, tiny briefs do nothing to hide my excitement for her. Camila moves my arm under hers so that it crosses her stomach. She pushes both her breasts into my hand that easily holds both. My other hand goes to her hip, gently rubbing my thumb over the thin material of her thong. She pauses ever so slightly then looks up at me, her hand moving to my neck and we gaze into each other’s eyes.
The camera starts clicking and Raul’s rant turns to shouts of praise. “Closer, Evan, get in her face!”
I lean down, our lips just a breath away. Camila moves her hips against me, teasing my erection and I don’t hide the moan she elicits. Not taking her eyes off me, she whispers, “Evan, I wanted our night in Chicago. I’m not trying to get rid of you.”
My hands tighten on her and I move to close the space between our lips as Raul shouts, “Perfect! That’s a wrap!”
Camila holds my gaze just a second longer then slips away from me, running down the hallway. I call out after her, but don’t move to chase her. I’m not going to start that habit, no matter how much I want to.
Raul walks across the room and slaps his hand on my back. “Looks like Miss Lemos has someone in an uproar,” he comments and falls into a fit of laughter.
Glancing down, I see the tip of my cock is trying to escape out of the top of the boxer briefs. Shoving my way past Raul, I huff to my dressing room. Do I believe what Camila said or is this her being a tease again? Fuck it, I don’t know, and I’m sure I can find someone to take care of this raging hard on. Opening the door, I see a smiling brunette down the hallway, hiding behind a clothes rack and waving. I grin, exactly what I need. I start to motion for her to come in but that ginger and floral scent catches my attention. Turning my head, I see Camila already dressed and running out of the building. I sigh and slam the door shut, not knowing at all what I want.
CHAPTER 14
Camila
Pacing back and forth across my co-worker’s office at Netsports, I throw up my hands in frustration. “I’m at my wits end, Kip. I’ve played out every possible scenario and none of them seem to be in Evan’s benefit. The Lancers claim they want Blake so they put the offer for Evan out there in hopes that the Seawolves will overpay Evan and cut Blake go. The Seawolves will easily give up Evan for Blake and aren’t willing to budge on their preposterous offer as of now.” I drop to the chair across from his desk with a loud sigh.
Kip Deevers interlocks his fingers, tapping his index ones together. Good, this means he’s thinking. It’s been a month since Evan’s offers first appeared in my inbox and I’ve been awake every night trying to figure out the best possible option for him. I wish I could say that’s the only reason I haven’t gotten any sleep lately, but it’s not, especially not after the cologne photoshoot. I hate being in front of the camera and I’d love to admit I only offered to model with him to save the ad, but I wanted to feel Evan against me again. Caught up in the moment, I admitted too much and ran off like a coward and haven’t heard from him since.
“So, if Evan declines the Seawolves then who knows what the Lancers will really offer,” Kip comments, thinking out loud with his eyebrows furrowed.
“I talked to Walter Feiser’s office and it all depends on what Blake does. If Blake signs with them, they won’t offer Evan anything. If Blake stays with the Seawolves, they’ll honor their offer.”
“Sounds like you’ve got to talk Blake into staying with the Seawolves so his little brother doesn’t get screwed.” Kip stands, walking to the desk by his window and pouring himself a Scotch.
I close my eyes and lean my head back. “Yeah, but Evan wants no part to do with Chicago. He only wants San Diego.”
A chill runs down my neck and when I open my eyes, Kip is holding another glass of Scotch on the rocks against my skin. I take it from him, letting the warm whiskey roll down my throat.
“Then I guess you need to start convincing Evan Purser how great the Windy City is.”
With that thought, I down the rest of the alcohol and stand up. “Yeah, Kip, thanks for your help.”
With a chuckle, he pats my shoulder. “They don’t say you’re the best for no reason. I’m sure you can do it, Cam.”
I nod, letting him know that I appreciate his confidence in me. Honestly, I think Evan Purser will walk away from the NFL before Chicago is even an option in his mind. I have to figure something out before Evan throws away his career.
Entering my office, my desk phone rings. I answer, pushing
the thought out of my mind, ready for a distraction. On the other end is a hysterical woman screaming into the phone in Spanish. Even though I’m fluent in the language, among others, she’s speaking so fast I can’t understand a word she’s saying.
“Cálmese, señorita, cálmese,” I say, encouraging her to calm down.
The rambling continues until I hear her take a breath. A few seconds pass and then the woman whispers so quietly I can barely hear her. Unfortunately, I can.
“Señora Purser esta muerto.”
The line goes silent and I fall into my seat, my heart sinking to my stomach. Mrs. Purser is dead.
Evan
Sprinting around the curve of the track, I excel my speed, trying to beat my last time. I cross the finish line and glance at my watch, two seconds slower. The tunes of Foster the People seeps out of the stereo and I swear if someone doesn’t change the station, I’ll rip the speakers off the wall myself. This is bullshit that I have to work out on my own. I should be at training camp with the rest of my teammates, but Camila hasn’t worked “her magic” as Blake likes to call it, so I’m stuck at the gym by myself.
Glancing over at the free weight section, there’s a group of college guys in their bro tanks standing around bragging about how much they can bench press. I roll my eyes and keep walking. There’s a lot more to getting bulky than just lifting weights. Does anyone really think I enjoy running sprints or doing parachute speed training workouts? Hell no!
Back at the starting line, I pull my foot up to my thigh, holding the position and stretching my quad. I may not have a trainer keeping an eye on me, but I’ve been here before. Alone and dedicated to no one but myself. Too bad, I want to be dedicated to someone this time.
I close my eyes, picturing Camila against me at the photoshoot and quickly shake my head. No, she’s just a tease, trying to control me with her body. If she doesn’t get her shit together and get a better offer on the table from the Seawolves, then I’m going to be in the market for another agent.