Game Saver

by BJ Harvey

  “That too.”

  “Cade. This conversation is worse than the prospect of phone sex.”

  “You’re telling me. I’m on I-55 and contemplating the merits of pulling over to jerk off and whether it’s worth the risk of a standing vehicle violation.”

  That earns me a giggle. “I vote that it would totally be worth it.”

  “Maybe if you were the one with your hand wrapped around my dick.”

  “That can be arranged next time we see each other, Doctor Hottie.”

  I snort. “I don’t know if I want to ask where that name came from.”

  “I actually can’t remember. Might’ve been something Dani and I came up with one night.”

  “You talked about me?”

  “Um, hello? I’m a woman. We talk about everything.”

  “Everything?” I ask, my interest now very much piqued in what the word ‘everything’ might entail.

  “When you’re with your girls, nothing is off-limits,” she says.

  “Oh to be a fly on the wall . . .” I muse, and she bursts out laughing.

  “Seriously, you really don’t want that. The things that can come out after a tequila or five would blow your mind. So I’m guessing you’ve finished for the day?” she asks, wisely changing the direction of the conversation.

  “Yeah. Just wanted to check in with you since I wasn’t very talkative at five a.m. this morning.”

  “I thought for sure you’d be a morning person but every time I’ve woken up with you, you’ve barely been human until after coffee.”

  “Even barely human I still gave you a double orgasm before leaving.”

  “Oh believe me, I’m not going to forget that special talent of yours any time soon. But remember, no sex talk while I’m at work.”

  “Spoilsport,” I reply with a grin.

  “I’m just being smart. If I give in to my curiosity of just how well you can give phone sex, then we’ll need to carry it through, and although I haven’t been opposed to getting down and dirty on company time in the past, with you I think that it would be putting myself through cruel and unnecessary torture. I much prefer the real thing.”

  There’s something about meeting a woman who doesn’t play games. After growing up in a world where game-playing is paramount to success, I really like spending time with Abi outside of the bedroom. I groan, breaking the comfortable silence.

  “Ah Cade, you hanging in there?” she asks with a giggle.

  “Believe me, there’s nothing hanging anywhere right now,” I grind out.

  “Poor baby,” she says mockingly. “If I was there I’d totally lick it all better.”

  “Not. Fucking. Helping, Spitfire.”

  “Think of it as payback, Dr. Carsen.”

  “What for?”

  “In the past week I swear you’ve given me internal chafing. Is there such a thing? Because I swear to God you fucked me so hard my vagina is in desperate need of downtime between orgasms.”

  “I know for a fact that you can give just as good as you get.” I really wish she wasn’t working right now.

  “Oh, there’s no doubt about that. It’s just that with your magnificent ability to give orgasms, I’m scared the next one you give me could very well kill me.”

  “What a way to go, though,” I muse.

  “You’re telling me,” she replies. “So did you really just call to check in?”

  Oh yeah, that’s right. “Yes and no. I also called to ask what your family name is.”

  “What?” she says with a surprised laugh.

  “I was just talking to my mom and she asked what your name was, and I realized that I know how you taste and how to drive you crazy with my hands, mouth, and cock, but don’t even know your last name.” She snorts and starts laughing. “Abi?”

  “Just . . . give me . . . a minute . . .” she breathes, still giggling. “That is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  “It’s funny as hell, Caden Carmichael Carsen III.”

  “Did you google me?”

  “Maybe . . .”

  I should at least know your last name, Abi.”

  “It’s not like we’ve done much talking, Caden.” Her voice is full of amusement.

  “Any other woman would be pissed off if their fuck buddy didn’t know her name.”

  “But I’m not like any other woman, Cade. I thought you would’ve realized that by now?”

  “Believe me—I definitely know that.”

  She laughs and I stay quiet, enjoying the sound.

  “Can I ask you something?” she says, out of the blue.

  “Shoot.”

  “What’s the deal with you and your father? I mean, I get the impression that it’s not all roses and sunshine between you two.”

  “I don’t get along with my father.”

  “Why not?” she asks

  “I don’t respect him. He always put a lot of pressure on us to do what he wanted. It might stem from the fact that none of us have followed in his footsteps, I don’t know, but any man looks up to his father to guide him to become the man he wants to be. I looked and didn’t like what I saw, so I went my own way.” I shrug. “Cam was the same.”

  “What didn’t you like?”

  “His ruthlessness. He doesn’t care what or who gets in his way, and doesn’t give one thought to anyone except himself and getting where he wants to be. That has a place in business, but not when it comes to his family. I swear, if I didn’t look like him I’d wonder if I was born of his loins.”

  “Born of his loins?” she teases, her voice full of amusement, and my lips twitch, the tightness in my shoulders easing at the sound.

  “Smartass.”

  “Always.”

  Comfortable silence stretches between us “He just expects us to be at his beck and call. I’m all for working hard for what you want but I’d never drag along those important to me in order to get there.”

  “You’re an honorable man, Cade Carmichael Carsen the Third.”

  I chuckle at her use of my full name. “Thank you, Spitfire.”

  “For what?” she asks.

  “For being you, for asking—for taking my back in this whole thing, something you don’t have to do.”

  “Let’s just call it all part of the mother-buffer, fake-girlfriend service.” My jaw tightens at the mention of her being my fake girlfriend.

  “What else is part of the service?” I ask, trying to take the tone of the conversation back to safe territory.

  A loud bell rings in the background. “Shit. I’ve just been called out to the front desk. What are you doing this weekend?”

  “I’m working tomorrow but have Sunday free.”

  “Me too. We could catch up, if you don’t have other plans?”

  “Sounds good, Spitfire. Go out and flash your pretty smile and make the customers happy. Just not too happy, alright?” I tease, grinning like a loon for some reason.

  “You’re terrible. Talk tomorrow. Don’t do anything I would do.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Exactly. Gotta go.”

  “Wait. What’s your last name?”

  “Cook. Bye, Cade. Call me,” she says before hanging off.

  It’s not surprising that when I pull into the driveway of my house five minutes later, I’m still wearing a shit-eating grin—and still half hard.

  My house is my pride and joy. I may have used some of my trust fund for the down payment—only because it was from my grandparents, not my father—but the mortgage is all mine. The house is all mine, and other than my medical degree and attending position, this house and everything it represents are my biggest accomplishments.

  The house is big but not the grandiose spectacle my parents wanted me to have. They tried to sway my decision when it came to entering the property market. Even though I was only twenty-five, I was determined to live my life the way I wanted without the pressure of being the eldest�
��by five minutes—Carsen son.

  I went against everything they wanted and bought a place in a middle-class family neighborhood, just three blocks away from Mac and Daniel’s townhouse.

  I live with Thomas, one of my best friends who I’ve known since college and who is like a brother to me. He’s originally from Michigan but looked for jobs in Chicago after we graduated and is now an executive at my dad’s company.

  Walking through the front door and making my way into the living room, I find him sprawled out on the sofa, beer bottle in hand, suit jacket folded over the back, and his discarded tie lying on the coffee table in front of him.

  “Hard day?” I ask.

  “Long day,” he replies. “How about you? You’re home early.”

  “I escaped before the nighttime rush.” I make my way through the dining room to the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge.

  “You want another beer?” I call out, grabbing myself a bottle.

  “Not gonna say no.” Grabbing another, I move back to the lounge, hand Thomas his drink, and collapse down in my black leather recliner next to the couch.

  “Mom called me on the way home.”

  “And how is Annabel today?”

  “In fine form,” I reply with a wry smile. “Rang to tell me she’d organized Emily to be my date for the fundraiser. I took pleasure in telling her I was taking Abi.”

  That gets his attention. He sits up straight and spins his torso towards me. “I thought it was just a no-strings-sex thing?”

  “We went out for dinner last night. “

  “So no-strings sex and you occasionally feed her?” he says with a smirk. Thomas knows me well.

  “To be honest, I don’t know. She’s going to be my date to any of Dad’s mayoral engagements, and we’ll go from there. She’s different. Refreshing.”

  “She’s definitely hot.”

  “You have no fucking idea. Seriously, I’ve more than met my match when it comes to her and sexual appetites.”

  He flops back in the couch and lets out a long, slow breath. “Trust you to pick up the hottest chick in the bar and land a wildcat in the sack.”

  “I’m definitely wondering why I waited so long,” I murmur, taking a much-needed swig of my beer.

  “Does she know what she’s agreed to?”

  I shrug. “Maybe not yet, but I’ve explained a bit about my family dynamics and what’s expected of me.”

  “And she’s up for it?”

  “Guess we’ll see what happens when she’s exposed to the Carsen family in the flesh.”

  He watches me for a beat before nodding. “I’ll have your back.” He lifts his bottle my way, and I clink mine against it.

  “You always do.”

  “Cam coming back?”

  “Got an email from him a few days ago. His deployment ends in a couple of months.”

  “So he’ll be home in time to be useful to Carsen Senior.”

  “Yep. I wouldn’t put it past my father to have orchestrated that, too.”

  Thomas snorts and shakes his head, knowing that anything’s possible when it comes to my father and his thirst for power. “So tell me about the delectable Abi.”

  I can’t help it; I grin at the thought of her. “What do you want to know?”

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  “What’s not to like? She’s confident, sassy, independent, hot as fuck, and meets me blow for blow—literally. She’s not after fame and fortune, and she’s pulled herself out of shit and risen above and beyond it. How many women do you know like that?”

  His eyes turn contemplative. “Honestly? None. She sounds fucking perfect.”

  “I know . . .” I reply, and that’s all I can say. Dinner last night was good—really fucking good. We laughed, we teased, we flirted, I found out a lot about her and let her in to know more about me. It wasn’t just a dinner; it felt like a date. A really good first date.

  “Sounds like you like her,” Thomas says, sending me a pointed look then quirking a brow, a silent challenge daring me to argue.

  “There’s a lot to like,” I say with a shrug. “Doesn’t mean I have time for a relationship, and I don’t think she does either.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “She’s got two jobs. Both at night. I work days most of the time now. It would never work.”

  “Yet you seem to be willing to give the no-strings sex and fake relationship a try?” he asks.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, taking a long, long pull from my beer.

  Thomas laughs and takes a drink from his own bottle before putting it down on the table and looking over at me. “You never know—maybe you can both have ‘no time’ together. Stranger things have happened. I mean, even Noah Taylor conned a woman into marrying him. If he can pull that off, anything’s possible.”

  I am in panic mode. It’s Friday, the day before Cade’s father’s fundraising event/ball/dinner—to be honest, I’m not sure which. All I know is that it’s likely I’ll be the topic of conversation, the new broad on Cade Junior’s arm to be watched, examined, and judged from the moment I step through the doors.

  I have no freaking idea what I should wear and definitely have nothing in my closet that will measure up to the Carsen name. Working five straight nights this week, I’ve been sleeping most days, and have seen Cade twice more since our date . . . I mean dinner.

  The times I have gone out shopping for a dress have all been fruitless endeavors that have stressed me out even more.

  I need help, and there’s only one person to call. Grabbing my phone from the coffee table, I flop down on the couch in my living room and dial the number.

  “Hey Abs,” Dani answers after a few rings.

  “I’m in trouble”

  “Do I need to bail you out again?”

  “What do you mean again? You’ve never had to bail me out!”

  “Not yet, but there’s always a first time,” she says with a laugh. “What do you need?”

  “I need a shopping buddy. I haven’t been able to find a dress for tomorrow night. It needs to be respectable and classy, sexy, but not stripper chick.”

  “But you totally rock the high-street hooker look.”

  “Dr. Cade Carsen does not need that on his arm.”

  “You’re going out with Cade again? Another date?” she asks.

  “It’s not a date. It’s a favor.”

  “A horizontal one?” she muses.

  I reply with an unladylike snort—shit! That’ll have to stop. “That will happen afterwards but first, I have to accompany him to a fundraiser ball thingy-whatsit.”

  “A thingy-whatsit?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that the one for his father’s mayoral campaign?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Noah and Zoe are going. She’s really excited about it. They haven’t been out much since Misha was born, so it’s like adult date night.”

  “At least I’ll know someone else there then.”

  “Yeah. I’ll have to let her know to look out for you.”

  “Sounds good,” I reply, relaxing a little bit knowing I’ll at least have Zoe to talk to. “So back to my dress problem.”

  “Okay,” she muses. “And what kind of look are you going for?”

  “Sophisticated and stylish.”

  “Babe, you do not need to change yourself for him.”

  “I can be demure.”

  “You can. But it’s not you. He obviously likes what he sees if he asked you to be his date.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Explain it then, because it sounds like a date.”

  “I’m just helping a friend out,” I reply.

  At that she bursts out laughing, not trying to hide it at all. “There’s nothing friendly between you two.”

  “We’re very friendly—the naked variety of friendly—with a lot of shared orgasms.”

  “A lot? Define ‘a lot’?”

  “More than on
e, less than thirteen.”

  “Twelve? Over how many nights?”

  I smile huge and take a sip of my coffee as I say nothing and leave her to stew.

  “Zach needs to take lessons,” she mutters.

  “If I remember rightly, your man does not need any help in making you moan but if he needs tips, we should definitely get Cade to impart some of his wicked wisdom.”

  “Aren’t orgasms amazing?” Dani says with a happy sigh.

  “You’re so much more relaxed now that you’re getting them on the regular, that’s for sure.”

  “And you? Are you getting them regularly now?”

  “It’s only been two weeks since we hooked up again.”

  “And you’ve seen him how many times?”

  “Three . . . no, four . . .” I murmur quietly.

  “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

  “Alright, a few times,” I reply.

  “A few times in two weeks, and that included twelve orgasms? That’s more than I get in a week, and I’m the one in a committed relationship.”

  “One of those times was after dinner last week.”

  “Dinner?” she gasps. “You hold out. You didn’t tell me about dinner.”

  “Yes. You know, a night time meal?”

  “You had dinner with him?”

  “We’ve all got to eat, Dan. Even doctors and hotel managers.”

  “I know that!” she says exasperatedly. “I just didn’t think it was anything other than sex. I mean, you didn’t really talk to each other or anything for almost a year.”

  “Ten months.”

  “Okay then, ten months,” she repeats.

  “Cade and I are just friends, and I’m helping him out—a little fake girlfriending with a side of great sex.”

  She gasps, my sweet little Dani not used to the idea of sex without commitment. God I love her. “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? He’s busy, I’m busy, we get busy together—and now, we’re also going to be attending a few events to keep his parents off his back and stop his mom from setting him up with some uppity society bitch he has no interest in.”

  “Sounds perfect,” she says sarcastically.

  “It is.”

  “Which is why you care about a dress,” she mutters under her breath.

  I choose to ignore her and power through. “So . . . do you have anything?”