by Claire Adams
"There you are, wait, are you still out of town?" my real estate agent asked.
"Yes, why? Oh, no, I scheduled the inspection for today," I slapped a hand against my forehead. "I'm sorry, but I got hung up with work."
"Kya, you can't afford to forget about this place. It's perfect for a young, single executive like you. And, there's been another offer, a cash offer. I can do the inspection for you. We can close on this place by this afternoon," he said.
I could not breathe. The idea of losing the house was not what choked me, it was the house itself. Once I closed on it, I would be putting down roots in Chicago. What if I belonged somewhere else?
"I don't want to rush into anything," I said.
"This isn't something to wait on, they want to take the other deal," he said. "I've got to tell them something today."
I cleared my throat. "Then, tell them I'm out. The other people can have it. There will be other houses."
"Not in this neighborhood, not at this price. Remember the equity you can build with it?" My real estate agent started to panic.
"I'm just not ready. I'm sorry. We can talk more soon," I said. I felt bad, but I hung up the phone. My guilt was forgotten as soon as I caught sight of Fenton sitting up in bed. His black tattoos stood out against the white sheets and he rumpled his black hair while he yawned.
He pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and stood up. "I suppose you've got to be getting back to Chicago soon," he said.
I wondered how much of my phone conversation he had heard. "Maybe," I said.
"It'll be good, getting home, I bet. I mean, I'm happy you're here, but we both need to concentrate on work, stay focused. Right?" He stretched and headed for the bathroom without even looking at me.
"Work. Right," I said. I started to follow him, I needed to look in his eyes to understand what he was saying, but my phone rang. "Speaking of work, it's my boss."
Fenton waved me off and closed the bathroom door. I hesitated, but answered my boss' call.
"You pulled it off, you genius agent vixen!" James shouted.
"Too early for yelling, never a good time to call me a vixen," I said.
"I'll call you lord and master if you tell me the contract I sent out this morning is going to be signed by Fenton Morris. We will have the biggest party when you get back!"
I wandered out into the living room and leaned my forehead against the window. Vegas was bright in the late morning sun, and there were people teeming far below. The words "when you get back" sank into my stomach and I did not feel well.
"What if I don't come back?" I asked. "What if I stay in Vegas and work from here for a while? Would that be okay?"
"Okay? Okay? Are you freakin' kidding me? Can you imagine all the people you can sign? It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel. Plus, I'll have good reason to fly out on the weekends and check in," James chuckled at the thought. "Just get Fenton Morris signed and I'll add a move stipend on to your bonus."
"There's the door. Gotta go," I said. I hung up the phone, but Fenton beat me to the front door of the suite.
He signed for the papers and ripped open the manila envelope. "You don't waste any time, do you?" he asked.
"I sent my boss the message before we talked on the balcony," I said.
"Your boss. He's still going to give you a bonus for signing me, right?" Fenton asked. He grabbed a pen from the desk by the door.
"Actually, he just sweetened the deal," I said.
Fenton cut me off. "Well, here's to your picket fence and your private office and all the perfect stability that comes with it."
"You say that like it’s a bad thing," I snapped. "Like it’s so unreasonable to want a little stability. I guess that's not in your lone wolf agenda, huh?"
"Come on, Kya, you're seriously telling me you haven't enjoyed being let off the leash here in Vegas?" He asked. He signed the contract hard. "This is all the stability I need for now. I'm not stupid enough to predict what the future holds and what I might want from it."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Sure, you can't even predict what you'll want in the next five minutes, though it certainly seems like it’s not going to be me."
Fenton flung the contract aside and grabbed my arms. His kiss was hard, demanding, and left me breathless.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Kya
When I softened, Fenton smiled against my lips. His hands slid around my waist and cradled me close against his hips. Instead of pushing him away, my hands caressed his chest, then up to the bare skin of his neck. I twirled my fingers into his thick black hair and let myself hope.
"I want you, Kya," Fenton said. "I can't seem to help it."
"So it would be easier if I had to go back to Chicago?" I asked.
He shrugged his shoulders under my hands. "I'm not going to lie. If you were in Chicago, it would be a lot easier for me to focus."
He shifted against me and even the slight friction caused a wave of heat between us. He smiled and kissed me again, deeper, hungrier.
I broke away before my thoughts were completely unraveled. "But I like it here in Las Vegas," I said. "Plus, it makes a lot of sense for my career."
"I don't distract you from your work?" he asked.
I tipped my head and looked into his bright blue eyes. "Unlike you, I can balance life and work."
My phone rang and a spark of mischief flashed in Fenton's eyes. "I bet that's work," he said. He pulled me tighter against him and his lips sought mine for another dizzying drink.
I almost forgot what the ringing sound meant as I tangled my hands in his hair and hung on. When I finally broke away, I swayed and he laughed.
"How's that balance?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes at him, but had to steady myself against the kitchen counter as I answered the still-ringing phone. "Hello?"
"Ms. Allen, I thought you had forgotten about me," Jackson McRay's voice was light and mocking. "Celebrating the big win of your blue collar brawler, I suppose."
"I'm surprised to hear from you, I thought the tournament started today," I said.
"I played my first round already this morning. Aren't you supposed to keep up with such things?"
"I do. I will. Now that I know you are interested in becoming a client," I said. I turned away from Fenton who stood with his arms crossed, clearly listening to my half of the conversation.
"Well, then, I can catch you up. I'm actually in the Tropicana. Why don't you invite me up for a cup of coffee? I'll jump on the elevator and see you in a few," Jackson said. He hung up the phone.
I felt a swirl of panic in my stomach as I turned back around. Fenton frowned at me, his arms crossed tighter than before. "Looks like it’s less about balance and more about juggling," I said. "Jackson McRay, the golfer, is on his way up to the suite for a cup of coffee. We have possible business to discuss."
He followed me into the master bedroom as I yanked a cardigan over my white t-shirt and tried to make myself look presentable. I was relieved to see the red blush across my cheeks was fading. Then, Fenton caught me in his arms again.
"Are you sure you don't want to blow off the coffee meeting and jump in the shower with me?" he asked. His fingers danced up and down my back.
I shivered with pleasure and pushed him away. "I see what you're doing. You're trying to make me screw up this contract so I have to go back to Chicago."
He shook his head. "It would be easier to concentrate, but I like you in Vegas. I want you in Vegas."
There was a sharp knock on the suite door. I could not help but brush a soft kiss across Fenton's lips before I hurried away across the suite to let Jackson in. As the golfer strode inside, I glanced back and saw Fenton disappear into the second bedroom.
The knot of worry in my chest loosened. "Good morning, I think there's still some hot coffee in the pot. Unless you'd rather go downstairs?"
"Whatever you've got is fine. Wow, must have been some party here last night," Jackson said. "You throw a big bash every time y
our client does well?"
"I didn't have much of a choice. Fenton decided to stay here when the MGM Grand kicked him out," I said. I glanced at the second bedroom, worried the door would fly open any minute. Better that Jackson heard from me than found out through one of Fenton's grand entrances.
Jackson scrubbed a hand over his short, cropped brown hair. "Interesting. Though, I guess it shows you are a generous agent. Very hands on?" he asked.
I swallowed hard, feeling the undertow of his question. "As far as letting clients use this suite. It’s paid for by the company," I said. "Now, why don't you catch me up on your round this morning?"
The tight hold in Jackson's shoulders relaxed and he sat down at the kitchen counter. I poured him a cup of coffee, relieved that he was no longer looming over me. He was tall with wide shoulders, not as heavily muscled as Fenton, but there was a hardness under his pale yellow Polo shirt.
"We don't have to talk about work just yet," he said.
His tan arms reached out towards me across the kitchen island and I immediately wanted to pull back. I knew he would be offended, he had already made his interest in me clear, and so I forced myself to stay still.
"What else is there to discuss?" I asked.
Jackson caught my hand, but the second bedroom door crashed open. He swiveled in his chair and I was able to pull myself loose from his hold. Fenton strolled out in dark jeans. He held his t-shirt loosely in his hands, the hard cut of his abs and the dark slashes of his tattoos on full display. He looked menacing, out of place against the soft white luxury of the suite, as if he belonged in an alley ready to fight.
The look he gave Jackson was taunting. "Oh, sorry, didn't know Kya was conducting business." He yanked his shirt on and kept coming towards us. "She warned me she had some client coming over. We've met before, right?"
"Yes," Jackson bit out. "Now, if you'll excuse us?"
"Oh, sure, don't mind me. Any chance there's more coffee?" Fenton asked.
I poured him a cup and gave him a sharp glance, but Fenton pretended not to notice. He stood at the edge of the kitchen counter and slowly dripped cream into his cup, taking the time to taste it and decide if he needed more.
Jackson watched him with growing aggravation. "Maybe you were right, Kya. We should head downstairs."
"Hey, if you go for breakfast could you bring me a little something back? You know what I like," Fenton said. He waggled his eyebrows at me.
Jackson caught the suggestive look and his jaw tightened.
"Was that a knock at the door?" I asked. They both looked at me as if I was crazy until the knock came again. "I'll get it," I said.
I escaped the kitchen and went to the door. I hoped it was Kev Casey. If anyone thrived in awkward situations, it was Fenton's manager. I pulled the door open.
Dana Maria sauntered past me in a jaw-dropping blue lace dress. The color and the barely-there clinging material made it look like she was wearing nothing but sea foam. She even had seashell clips in her long black curls and giant silver starfish earrings.
"Really?" Jackson exclaimed. "Have you no decency? You invite a stripper up to Kya's suite in the middle of the day?"
Dana Maria laughed. "It's not like I'm a vampire."
"I have no problem with you," Jackson said. He got up from the kitchen counter. "I didn't mean to offend you. Kya, you're really okay with this? No wonder you're interested in a higher class of client."
"Jackson, I'd like you to meet Fenton's sister, Dana Maria," I said. I understood that Jackson was just trying to defend my honor, but if Fenton did not punch him, I would consider doing it myself.
Dana Maria tossed her hair and came over to shake Jackson's hand. "Nice to meet you, handsome."
Jackson held on to her hand, swinging it away from her body as he thoroughly studied her dress. "Beauty and the bruiser. I suppose you can't choose your family."
"Now, don't get my baby brother all riled up. He promised me a nice lunch to celebrate his big win. Ready?" Dana Maria asked Fenton.
"Almost," Fenton said. He took one bristling step towards Jackson.
The golfer ignored him and turned to me. "I've disrupted your morning enough. How about we discuss the endorsement plans over dinner?"
"Oh, it's pretty straightforward," I said.
"Good, I'll go make the reservations and send you the info," Jackson said. "All you need to do is pull together some other options besides vitamin supplements. I'd like to convey a different image than some of your other clients."
Jackson left a stretch of awkward silence in his wake. Fenton took a lap around the suite, trying to shake it off. I crept back to the kitchen and poured myself another cup of coffee.
Dana Maria fluffed her hair. "I do like a clean-cut man. Even had his Polo shirt tucked in. Bet he's hiding a dirty, dirty mind under all that polish. Are you sure that isn't what your little Ms. Priss likes?" she asked Fenton.
"Stay away from Jackson McRay," Fenton told his sister. "There's something off about him. I should have knocked his teeth out."
"But then how would Ms. Allen make a mint off him? God knows she's only interested in him for the business. Why else would the Country Club Princess head out to dinner with the likes of him? I bet she can't stand the good manners, cloth napkins, and wine lists."
"She's capable of having a business dinner without it turning to sex," I said. I put my cup down and marched across the suite. "Now, if you're done talking about me, I actually have work to do."
"Scoping out hot athletes. Sounds like a tough day to me," Dana Maria said.
I tried to ignore her and headed into the master bedroom to get my laptop. Fenton told his sister to wait by the elevator and followed me inside.
"What are you doing this afternoon?" he asked.
"Really? You're letting your sister get in your head?" I asked. "I'm going to put on my little black bikini and spend the rest of the day flirting with any athlete that looks my way. You know my method, reel them in, have sex with them, and make 'em sign before they get dressed."
"You're right, I'm sorry," Fenton said. "You can't be even a little flattered that I get jealous?"
"There's a difference between jealous and territorial. I'm not a piece of meat for you and Jackson to circle around like dogs," I said.
"So you agree that the golfer is looking for more than an endorsement deal."
"It doesn't matter what he's looking for." I ripped open the closet and started looking for a dress to wear later. "Like I said, I am perfectly capable of controlling myself."
"Good," he said. He caught me and pulled me around to face him. "I only like it when you lose control with me."
"After hours, after we're both done with work," I said. I tipped my chin away from him primly.
"Then, it’s a date. Have your dinner, sign your new client, and I'll be here to celebrate when you're done," he said. "I've been thinking about you and me and that view from the balcony."
The thought washed through me and I felt myself melting. Fenton was magnetic. How could I explain that no one else attracted me like him? I wrapped myself around him and gave him a kiss we would both feel the rest of the day.
"See you tonight," I said against his warm and smiling lips.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kya
I was relieved when I dropped into the cab's backseat. My head was still spinning from Fenton's kiss. The driver told me there was traffic and it would be longer than expected. I nodded and leaned back, fully expecting to enjoy the peace and quiet. I needed to think; I needed to get my balance back.
"In town for business or pleasure?" the cab driver asked.
"Business," I said. His casual question started my mind racing around the real problem I was having separating the two things.
"Really? That's too bad. Unless you like your work. I love my work," he said.
"Do you like living in Vegas?" I asked.
He nodded into the rearview mirror but did not accept my change of subject. "What do y
ou do for a living?"
"I'm a sports agent. I help athletes get endorsement deals and connect brands with sports representation," I said.
"Well, we got all kinds of athletes here," the cab driver said. "Just this morning I've had two basketball players, a boxer, and a Kung Fu master. Can you believe that? Bet this town is good for your business."
"Yes, my thoughts exactly," I said. "I'm thinking of moving here. Or at least, staying for a while." It still felt crazy to say it out loud and I always braced myself for other people to laugh.
"You'll love it," he said. "Who are you here to sign?"
"Fenton Morris, the martial arts fighter. Do you know him?" I asked.
"Do I know him?" The cab driver gestured to one of Fenton's billboards. "Though, he sounds like a rough customer. Got a real reputation, that one. A nice girl like you would do better with the tennis players or the golfers. Or how about the video gamers? Everyone says it’s like an up and coming sport."
I shook my head. Fenton's reputation seemed like its own entity. Would I have to date it, too? I held my breath. Was I dating Fenton Morris? We had never really talked about it. His jealousy made us seem exclusive, but he did have a reputation to maintain. What would people say if they knew he was dating someone like me?
"So you like those martial arts fights? All the blood? You don't strike me as that kind of girl," the cab driver said.
"Then, I guess I'd surprise you," I said. Maybe my reputation was the greater hindrance. I always thought it helped me with work, but I was sick of it. It was time for a change. I promised myself that Jackson McRay would be the first client I landed as myself, not some prim and proper projection of what the other person wanted.
With that thought bolstering my courage, I sprang from the cab and stopped in shock. Jackson McRay had beaten me to the restaurant, and he was arm in arm with Dana Maria. More than arm in arm, his hand trailed along her neck and dipped down the front of her revealing sea-foam dress. I could not read her expression, but Jackson's smile was predatory.
"Sorry if I'm late," I said. "There was a lot of traffic on the Strip."