Game for Trouble

by Karen Erickson

  “I didn’t realize I was such a mystery you were hoping to solve.” He smiled, but when she only scowled back, he let the smile drop.

  He was lying. Hell yeah, he’d made sure no one knew who he was when he bought the property. Not that he’d been trying to entice Willow in any way—that ended up pure dumb luck. His favorite place in the whole damn world was the Monterey Bay.

  Funny how he owned exactly what little Miss Spitfire was trying to move into at this very moment. Lease price was too high, though. He knew her problem with it, since Frank called him last week letting him know what the meeting was about. She was here in the hopes she could try and talk him down.

  Nick had come prepared with just the solution. He knew Willow was going to hit the ceiling when she heard his idea, but he had to try. Had to.

  His methods might be controversial but fuck it.

  “If I could hit you right now, I so would.”

  Willow’s voice tore him straight out of his thoughts. Blinking, he focused on the angry woman sitting beside him. She did look ready to punch him, if her clenched fists were any indication.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he drawled, sounding a lot more sure than he felt.

  She nodded furiously, all that pretty dark hair sliding down her back. Damn, she captivated him like no other. “Don’t tempt me.”

  He arched a brow. Rather apt choice of words. “Listen, I’m not trying to pull something over on you or anything. It’s a coincidence, pure and simple.”

  “Coincidence.” She spit the word out. “Feels more like a set up.”

  “Not quite. I consider myself lucky you fell so spectacularly into my lap.” He grinned.

  “If you pull me into your lap, I swear to God I’ll punch you so hard in the balls you’ll see stars,” she threatened.

  His grin falling away, he turned his attention to Frank, who sat silent, gaping like a fish as he watched them, his head bouncing back and forth as if he were at a tennis match. “Frank, my friend, could you do us a favor and let us have a private moment, please?”

  “Absolutely. You two take your time.” Frank hightailed it out of the room so fast the door shut behind him before he could get the last word out.

  Willow stood the moment Frank was gone, staring down at Nick with so much irritation in her gaze he wondered if she’d burn him on the spot. “How dare you play games with me. This is my business, my future. And here you sit, as rich as can be, holding everything I could ever want in your hands without a care in the world.”

  He leaned back in his seat, sprawling his legs in front of him so that his feet were planted on either side of Willow. He wanted her closer. He wished he could jerk her into his lap and drown in that sweet-tasting mouth of hers but she’d cut him where he sat, so he kept a semi-safe distance between them. “You’re just as rich,” he pointed out.

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, gimme a break. Daddy Cavanaugh cut you off or what? You got money, Will. I know you do.” He cocked a brow and twisted his lips in a shitty little smirk that she’d most likely hate, deliberately provoking her.

  “I refuse to accept any help from my father. I want to do this on my own.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, lifting her nose in the air—all haughty, gorgeous princess. “I started this business with nothing. On a total whim, I might add, as a favor to friends. How was I supposed to know I could make a career out of making cotton candy? But I did. And it just took off. Trust me, he’s tried to help, but I refused him. More than once.”

  “Why would you do that?” Nick had always admired her spunk. She found something she wanted, she went after it. Once upon a time, he’d been the one she wanted, and she came right after him—not that he’d given her much of a challenge. He still wasn’t a challenge when it came to Willow.

  Too damn bad she was the one who now challenged him on a constant basis. Frustrated the hell out of him, too. If he could get her to give in one time, he’d be set.

  “I want respect. I can do this. All of it. This is my business, all mine. I don’t want anyone, specifically my father, funding any part of it.” She cleared her throat. He knew whose respect she was looking for—her parents’. What with her too busy daddy and neglectful mama, the girl had been surrounded by nothing but shitty role models her entire life. How she turned out so driven and smart, he hadn’t a clue.

  “Well, I respect the hell out of you for trying this on your own.” He saw the flicker of pleasure in her gaze at his words. Damn if he didn’t want to see that again.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, settling in her chair once again, her knees brushing against his leg. His cock twitched, and he wanted to groan.

  She looked at him wrong and he was sporting wood. One innocent touch and he might do something really embarrassing.

  “So Will, it looks like I have something you want.” He rested his arm on the edge of the table, contemplating her.

  She stared back, her expression neutral. “You do.”

  “Well, guess what? You have something I want.” He tipped his head toward her. “And I’m hoping you’ll be real agreeable to my suggestion.”

  “What suggestion?” she asked warily.

  Even her skepticism was a turn on. He had some serious issues.

  But he also didn’t want to do this here. It would be much easier for her to walk out on him if she didn’t like his suggestion—and he knew, without a doubt, she would hate it. In a public place, with people surrounding them, she wouldn’t be likely to throw a fit. They both had a public persona to keep, after all, though him more than her.

  “It’s not the sort of offer I want to make in such a sterile environment, if you catch my drift. How about we have dinner tonight? At that amazing little restaurant Charlie owns? I try to eat there every chance I get when I come visit.”

  “You want to discuss this over dinner.” She shook her head, huffed out a laugh. Charlie owned both the restaurant and the Hawks. Talk about home field advantage. “I should’ve known you’d try something like this. I’m not going out with you, Hamilton. Hell, no. Bad enough what happened between us last night. If you think you can get me on my knees again, you’re sorely mistaken.” Her cheeks flushed the prettiest pink—the same shade her entire body flushed when she was aroused.

  He knew this because he’d seen it for himself. More than once.

  Shit. One mention of her on her knees and his cock was stirring to life. Damn thing was ridiculous. “I’m not trying to get you on your knees in front of me at a restaurant, Willow, Jesus. I have more class than that.”

  The harrumph that escaped her told him she thought otherwise. “Please. My memories haven’t been erased.”

  Oh. Oh. “Are you remembering our fondness for gettin’ it on in public places?” He scrubbed a hand along his cheek. Back in the day, they’d banged everywhere they could. It had been the hottest summer of his entire life, and not because of the temperature—though it was cool in the Monterey Bay, so that saying didn’t hold water.

  The woman sitting in front of him had aroused him like no other. Set his blood on fire for her. And then he’d left her.

  He was still beating himself up over it. Of course, he’d been forced, so what could he do? Young and dumb and a complete believer in what her father told him, he’d bailed at the first sign of a threat.

  She shrugged, trying for nonchalant, but it didn’t work. He could tell when she was faking it. “I think you might’ve had issues.”

  “You were just as involved as I was, darlin’, and don’t you ever forget it.” He breathed deep, trying to keep it together. Their conversations always spiraled out of control. Always turned sexual with a look or a simple comment. He blamed it on the chemistry that shimmered between them every time they were in the same room together. “Meet me tonight at the restaurant. Six o’clock. We can discuss my business proposition then.”

  “And what if I don’t show up?”

  “Then you might lose your chance at this bui
lding you want so damn much.” He stared at her for a moment, saw the way those velvety brown eyes went wide for a fleeting moment before they narrowed once more. “My terms, Will. You’ll meet me on my terms, or this deal might disappear.”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” Willow said with a sigh and a slow shake of her head.

  “The hardest.” He chuckled. He was hard as damn steel right now just thinking about it.

  By the end of the evening, this woman would be his.

  And she’d like it, too.

  Chapter Two

  “You’re going to dinner with Nick?” Sheridan turned away from the canvas, her brush still poised in the air, her gaze locked on Willow. “Tonight?”

  Nodding, Willow chewed on her thumbnail. The bad habit from when she was a child only came out when she was nervous. “He owns the damn building I want to lease. Can you believe my shitty luck?”

  “No, more like I can’t believe your fantastic luck. You’ve got him where you want him! Nick will totally cut you a deal on the place. He’s been chasing you for months. You can deny it all you want but I know the truth—I’ve caught the two of you together, and you always look so guilty. I’m sorry, but those looks scream the two of you are up to no good. The fun kind of no good.” Sheridan turned back to the canvas and started painting again: a festive Christmas tree she was going to use as an example for an upcoming hands-on art class in late November.

  “He’s not good for me.” Willow said it as if he were a junkie who knew how to hook her on the bad stuff—and keep her hooked until she finally overdosed.

  “You have a history with him, don’t you? We’ve known each other forever and somehow, you slipped Nick Hamilton in between your sheets and I totally missed it.” Sheridan shook her head with a smile. “Worse, you never told me about your secret affair. What kind of friend are you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, the same kind of friend who marries a famous hot football player and pretends it’s for love when it’s really a sham?” Willow refused to feel guilty about hiding her summer love affair with Nick from her best friend. That had been ages ago. Sheridan had no real excuse for hiding her fake marriage from Willow and everyone else, beyond a money motivation… Though Willow could relate.

  And thankfully, Sheridan had the good graces to look embarrassed, if her red cheeks were any indication. “Hey, it started out as a sham but it ended in love.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Willow rolled her eyes. She was sort of sick of the “we’re so in love” talk, because Sheridan was madly in love with her husband Jared. And he was madly in love with his wife.

  Gag.

  “So tell me. I want details. Then maybe I could give you a few of my own.” Sheridan made the offer casually, her back still to Willow as she continued to paint, dropping the sort of bait she knew Willow would want to hear.

  “Fine.” Willow sighed, more than wary to delve into her past. The memories were painful. “Remember the summer you went to Paris with your grandma so you could tour art galleries and eat croissants and drink café au laits all day?”

  Sheridan set her brush down and turned to face Willow fully, a dreamy expression on her face. “That was, like, the best summer ever. I met that cute French boy who whispered sexy words in my ear after he kissed me.”

  “He could’ve been whispering ‘I like to eat dog crap and lick the bowl clean when I’m finished’ for all you know,” Willow said with a laugh. “It all sounds sexy when it’s spoken in a foreign language.”

  “Whatever.” Sheridan laughed as well. “Quit dodging the subject and tell me your Nick story.”

  “Well, it was the best summer for me, too,” Willow admitted softly. “It was his first season with the Hawks, and he was under major scrutiny. I’d been hanging around the summer training facility, following my dad everywhere because hello, I wanted to check out the players.”

  “Of course. We were young and hot for older dudes,” Sheridan agreed.

  “Right.” They’d been young and dumb is more like it. “I saw Nick and I immediately wanted him.” God, he’d been so sexy, running down the field, catching the ball with ease. Fast as hell, gorgeous even when he was exhausted and sweaty. So arrogant and full of himself, but full of fun, too.

  They’d taken one look at each other and that was it. She’d pursued him with a single-minded focus that had surprised her. He’d reciprocated his interest without any sort of pretense. They’d fallen into bed together—and everywhere else they could do it—and she experienced the hottest sex of her life. Considering she hadn’t even been twenty at the time, she didn’t have much to compare it to.

  Now, years later, she could still say without a doubt being with Nick had been the best sexual experience of her life.

  “He’s very good looking,” Sheridan said. “And charming and sweet. He has this way of talking to me—talking to anyone, really, and he’s just so…captivating. I adore him.”

  “Yeah well, he worked that magic charm all over me for a few weeks, and then he left. Went on to San Jose to begin the season. Told me we’d never work out. He’d been so abrupt, so unfeeling. It was like he completely changed and decided he was tired of me.” Bitterness coursed through her, though really, she was being ridiculous. They’d been young and foolish, and how could she ever think they’d really have something serious?

  But she had.

  Asshole.

  “You two probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway. Look at you now.” Sheridan waved a hand in Willow’s direction. “You hate him.”

  She didn’t hate him. She wanted him. And that made her hate herself more. “I don’t hate him,” she mumbled, finally settling on the stool close to Sheridan’s. “It’s safer for me to act like I can’t stand him so he keeps his distance.”

  “I don’t think he’s doing a very good job at keeping his distance,” Sheridan said wryly.

  Great. “What did Nick tell Jared?” She knew what most likely happened. Nick said something to Jared, and then Jared told Sheridan while they were lying in bed and engaging in post-coital-glow pillow talk.

  “Not enough to keep my gossipy heart satisfied. I’ve heard a few stories of the two of you kissing. I think I caught you once, though you were definitely not kissing and telling. Oh, and you mentioned just recently that you were at his house the night Jared came over all despondent over our, uh, breakup.” Sheridan shrugged. Not one of her favorite moments to recall, Willow was sure.

  And fine. Nick had kissed her quite a few times. Always to keep her quiet. Always when she was yammering at him for one thing or another. Causing an argument with him because she couldn’t resist. He fired her up and if she couldn’t have him, she’d fight with him instead. It was almost as arousing.

  Then he’d go and kiss her anyway. Leave her a shuddering, near devastated mess over it, too. The jerk. “I don’t know what he wants from me tonight, Sher. I’m nervous.”

  Beyond nervous. He was going to try to finagle something out of her. She could feel it in her bones.

  “He probably just wants to get in your pants,” Sheridan said.

  Willow burst out laughing. “I think you’ve been hanging out with football players too much. You never used to be this blunt.”

  “Oh, I could say something way worse, trust me. Besides, I always had it in me. You of all people should know this.” Sheridan sighed. “Give the guy a break; go to dinner and listen to what he has to say. He might have a great idea for how to make this work with the building and the lease. He never said he wouldn’t lower the price, did he?”

  “No, he didn’t.” That was the one bit of hope she clung to.

  How she hated that she needed his help. At Nick’s mercy was the last place she wanted to be. But here she was, ready to beg and plead if needed.

  No getting down on her knees, though. She was so done with that scenario it wasn’t even funny.

  …

  Nick had gone all out tonight for this dinner—called up Charlie and made sure the best table was ava
ilable. Hell, he’d even gone shopping at some expensive-as-hell men’s clothing store and bought an entire new outfit just to impress the woman.

  She was now officially twenty minutes late. He’d most likely been stood up. Fuck all if that didn’t irritate the ever-loving shit out of him.

  His cell rang, and he grabbed it hurriedly, pissed when he saw it was his mama. Damn, he’d have to talk to her tomorrow. Hitting ignore, he shoved the phone back into his pants’ pocket.

  Only Willow would stand him up. But why? She was a damn fool to reject him if she wanted that building so badly for her business. Of course, he’d given her reason not to trust him…when they were kids.

  Fine, he’d given her reason to not trust him right now by not telling her he was the one who owned the very property she wanted to lease. He did it with good intentions though. Maybe not well planned but hell, when it came to Willow she had a way of making him do dumb things. Anything he could do to be with her, he’d do it. He knew what he wanted.

  Willow. By his side. And if he had to bribe her to get her to spend more time with him then so be it. Damn it, he’d never gotten over her. Maybe he needed a new strategy. They were always coming up with new game plans in the locker room, out on the field.

  Looked like he needed to adopt a new one when it came to his love life and getting Willow back in it on a permanent basis.

  Slugging the rest of his soda back in one swallow, he slammed the glass onto the table, glancing around the small, intimate restaurant. Couples. He was surrounded by couples who were having romantic dinners, laughing and talking and looking so damned pleased with themselves he wanted to slap them all silly and tell them love didn’t exist. It was all for fools and suckers.

  Right? Man, he sounded bitter. He needed to get over himself.

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  Her soft, sexy voice called to him like a siren and he glanced up, finding Willow standing beside the table, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath she took, her expression contrite.

  Damn, she was beautiful, wearing a black dress that appeared to cover everything but somehow revealed it all, too, considering it fit her so perfectly. Her hair was down, spilling past her shoulders in luxurious waves he wanted to bury his face in. A delicate gold chain wound around her neck, simple and elegant and so fucking perfect that all thoughts of being angry with Willow for being late evaporated in the mist.