Intended for Bristol

by L. P. Dover

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” he growled, “but it’s just a pain in the dick.”

  “What is it with you guys? Don’t you all know how to play nice?” It was easier said than done, since I knew how women could be toward each other as well.

  Ryan chuckled. “It’s not in our DNA. But I’m glad you don’t want anywhere near these guys. They’ll go after you just to fuck with me.”

  “I know how to handle myself, Ryan.” It wasn’t like I wanted to be around them anyway.

  “Yes, but you’re still my little sister.”

  “I think you’ve forgotten I’m twenty-five now,” I teased. Ryan was only one year older than me but he acted as if he were my father. Growing up, my father always told Ryan to look out for me, to protect me if anyone ever tried to hurt me. With Ryan by my side, I never had to worry about anything, but sometimes, his overprotectiveness could be annoying.

  “Do you want to help me look for houses this week?” he asked.

  “Sure. I wouldn’t mind looking at places myself. I was thinking about our family’s ranch and wished I could find a place like that around here.”

  He snorted. “I doubt you’ll find anything like that, but you can always get some land and buy horses. I know you liked that.” It was true, I did. I rode my horse, Daisy, all the time back home and I missed her more than anything. Riding was my escape.

  “And if we find you a house with land first, I can buy my horses to stay on your property until I can get my own,” I mentioned hopefully.

  “Anything to get out of this apartment, Bris. I swear, my upstairs neighbors are so goddamn loud I’m going to lose my mind. The sooner I find a place, the better.”

  “Sounds good, brother. We’ll get together this week and search.” We hung up just as I turned down the main street to Jack’s neighborhood. The houses were huge, most with massive lawns located on the lake. Jack definitely had money to spend if he lived in a place like this. When I pulled into his driveway, my heart started to race. I looked down at my clothes, happy that I’d changed out of my skirt and blouse into a pair of black pants and sleeveless pink top.

  Taking a deep breath, I got out of my car and walked to the front door, notebook and pen in hand. I pressed the doorbell and it wasn’t long before Jack opened the door, dressed in a pair of jeans and a green polo shirt. It looked good on his tanned skin and even brought out the green specks in his amber eyes. Smiling that devilish grin of his, he opened the door wide.

  “You look beautiful today, Bristol. Thanks for coming over.”

  I walked inside, hoping like hell he couldn’t tell his comment made my stomach flutter. He was a smooth talker, that was for sure. “Thanks,” I said politely, taking a glance around the room. “You have a really nice home.” And by nice, I meant huge and expensive. His living room was decked out in black leather furniture, very masculine and modern, with a wall of windows that looked out at the lake. There wasn’t much as far as décor, but I was literally clueless as to his style. If I had a house like his, it definitely wouldn’t be plastered in all black. He must have had it for one purpose only…seduction. A man going for mystery and intrigue would have a house in only black. I wasn’t shocked, but I had to admit a little disappointed.

  “Are all of your rooms like this?” I asked, curious.

  Brows furrowed, he studied me cautiously. “Not all of them. Why? Do you want me to give you the tour?”

  I nodded, but kept my focus on the task at hand. The kitchen had black marble countertops and gray ceramic tile, but everything else was done in stainless steel; it was very elegant. Kind of what I’d want my kitchen to look like when I bought a house. There were fresh fruits and vegetables on the counter, along with a grocery list in feminine handwriting. A pang of jealousy swam through my gut. The bastard was probably married, and here I was fantasizing about him. Jack noticed me looking at the list and smiled.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because of the fact that I saw your jaw clench when you looked at the list.” Grinning from ear to ear, he picked up the paper. “Either you think I have girly handwriting or you’re jealous because a woman wrote it.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little presumptuous? Whether you have a wife, girlfriend, or mistress is none of my business. I’m here to do a job; that’s it.”

  He set the paper down and moved toward me, his body now close to mine. “I see. Well, we should get to it then.” I had hoped he’d tell me whose writing it was, but I had just told him I basically didn’t care. Now I couldn’t ask him.

  I kept my distance as I followed him around the lower level of his house through the living room, dining room, and home theater. He even had a gym with top-of-the-line equipment.

  Placing a hand on the small of my back, he leaned in close to my ear. “Ready to look upstairs?”

  His touch sent shivers down my skin, and even though I didn’t want to, I stepped away. “What are you doing, Mr. Reed?” I huffed angrily. I didn’t like players and he was definitely one of them.

  Lifting his hands defensively in the air, his smile faded. “What do you mean?”

  I stormed past him down the hall and into the living room. “This,” I said, waving my hands around the room. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it doesn’t look like you need me to decorate anything. If you brought me here just to seduce me, you wasted your time.”

  Taken aback, his eyes widened, clearly shocked that a woman could turn him down. I was pretty sure that didn’t happen very often. Sighing, he stepped forward. “I’m not going to lie—I did want you here so we could be alone. I thought it’d be a great chance for us to get to know each other.” He paused for a second and then added, “On a more personal level.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “And why would I want to do that?”

  He stalked closer. “Because you’re attracted to me and I to you. You’re missing a certain ring on that finger of yours, which obviously tells me you’re not married. I’d be an idiot not to try and get you.”

  My whole body trembled and I sucked in a breath. If he saw me flustered, he’d know he had an advantage over me. I couldn’t let him know how much I wanted him too. “What about you? You’re missing a ring too, but I don’t see you as the type of man to settle down with just one woman.”

  A mischievous smile spread across his face. “That’s because I haven’t found the right one yet.”

  “Something tells me you’re not ready for that,” I blurted.

  Brows furrowed, he sat down on the black leather couch and spread his arms wide across the top. I could picture myself sitting beside him, snuggling into his side as he wrapped one of those arms around my shoulders. That was probably never going to happen. I didn’t even know his full name.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  I glanced around his room before focusing on those amber eyes of his. “Take, for instance, this room. I can tell a lot about people by the way they decorate. You have no pictures on the walls or even on the fireplace mantel. That right there tells me you don’t want any of your guests knowing your personal business, which in turn means you don’t want attachments.”

  The muscles in his jaw ticked, and the smug smile that was once there had now disappeared. He pursed his lips, and I could tell I was making him uncomfortable. “Maybe it’s no one’s business who my family and friends are,” he countered.

  Having no intention of backing down, I smiled triumphantly. “Then you’re obviously closed off. If you walk into my place you’ll see pictures of everyone I love. I’m not ashamed to admit I love the people in my life. I’m proud of where I come from and I show it with pride.”

  “You don’t know me, Bristol.”

  “You’re right, I don’t, but it’s not like you’re going to tell me anyway.” He started to speak, but I held up my hand. “And by going with all black, I can only imagine your bedroom is the same way. It’s clear you posses
s the art of seduction and how to come across as mysterious and domineering. That’s not exactly my style. If you want me to help you, I can, but I don’t want to waste my time.”

  It was bold to say it, but I wasn’t going to be made a fool of. I didn’t want to be his plaything. This time he stood, his expression bordering on the line between anger and outright awe. “I want your help, Bristol. Just tell me what you think we should do and I’ll do it.”

  I shook my head. “You’re not going to like my suggestions.” If I had my way, I’d put pictures up on the wall and some small, potted trees in the foyer to brighten it up and make it more inviting. There were so many things I’d do to liven up the room.

  Sighing, he stood up and glanced around. “I tell you what,” he said, meeting my gaze, “decorate this room to your liking. I don’t care how much it costs—just do it the way you want.”

  Was he serious? My style was obviously different from his. “We’re two different people, Jack.”

  “I don’t care if we’re different. You have a talent for making things shine and I want your expertise. Once we’re done with the downstairs, we can move upstairs.”

  “I’d still need some input from you, though,” I insisted. “We don’t want your house in just my style. We need something that represents you.”

  Pursing his lips, he concentrated for a second before his eyes brightened. “I have just the thing. Be right back.” He rushed off upstairs and then hurried back down with a large, black portfolio. “Come here,” he said, taking a seat on the couch. He patted the cushion and I sat down next to him.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “Remember when I told you I’d show you some of my sketches?” I nodded, and he smiled. “Here they are.” He opened the portfolio to the first page and my jaw dropped. It was a sports car design, all sleek with smooth lines; I’d never seen anything like it.

  “That is amazing,” I breathed in awe.

  His face beamed and for the first time since I’d met him, I could see the passion in his eyes. “Thanks.” He turned to the next page and there was another design, only this one was a motorcycle. “I’m really hoping to see these designs on the street one day.”

  “Why haven’t you sold any yet?” I asked.

  “I haven’t actually pitched them to anyone.”

  I gasped. “Why not? They’re wonderful.”

  “It’s not on my priority list right now,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

  If I were as good as him, I’d be showing those to every manufacturer out there. The amount of royalties he’d receive would be phenomenal. “If you don’t sell your designs, where do you get all your money from? It can’t be cheap to have a house like this.”

  He froze for a second, and then carefully placed the portfolio on his glass coffee table. “I guess you can say it’s from the family fortune.” It was clear he had some secrets and I was curious to know what they were, but it wasn’t the right time to ask.

  “All right, I’ll help you. I have some ideas of what I want to do. I’ll head down to the Garibaldi Gallery tomorrow to see what I can find. They have some new pieces that just came in.”

  “Why don’t I go with you?” he suggested with a smile. My heart fluttered, excitement bubbling in my chest. I wanted to see him again, but there was a part of me that knew I’d be playing with fire.

  I cleared my throat. “Are you sure?”

  He turned his body to me, his knee rubbing against my thigh. “As much as you’d like to think I’m closed off and degenerate, I do enjoy art. You saw my sketches.”

  A snicker escaped my lips. “I never said you were a degenerate.” I laughed. “What time would you like to go?”

  “Around seven? You could eat dinner with me here around six and then we can go together.”

  I opened my mouth to speak and then shut it; he’d caught me off guard. “As a date or strictly professional?” I questioned. What the hell was I doing? This guy was going to break my heart; I could feel it. Yet there was something about him that drew me to him. He looked at me as if he couldn’t get enough and I drank it in. I’d never had anyone look at me like that.

  “I’ll leave that up to you. I’m not a dating type of guy, but I want to prove to you I’m not closed off.”

  “And how do you plan on doing that? One date isn’t going to be enough.”

  My breath hitched when he glanced down at my lips. “Then I guess we’ll just have to have more.”

  “Is that what you tell the others?” I said in all seriousness. My mind drifted back to the grocery list on the counter, clearly written in another female’s handwriting. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one around.

  He bit his lip and smiled, but I didn’t find the situation funny. I’d been cheated on before and I wasn’t about to let it happen again. “There are no others, Bristol. I’m not interested in anyone other than you.”

  “What about that list in the kitchen? It was clearly written by someone other than you. If you’re trying to hide a wife or a girlfriend, I don’t want any part in it. I’m not a home wrecker.”

  He burst out laughing. “I knew that was jealousy I saw on your face. I thought it was hot.”

  Huffing, I stood and looked down at him. “I’m so glad I could amuse you. I’m just trying to protect myself. After being hurt so many times, it’s hard not to question everything.”

  All traces of laughter gone, he stood and walked toward me. He was only a little taller than me, probably six feet tall, so I didn’t have to tilt my head that far back to look into his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. And if you want to know the truth, that list is from my personal chef. She does the grocery shopping and cooks for me when I need her.”

  “Let me guess, she’s young and hot?” I asked, picturing a sultry blonde parading around his kitchen while he watched. My ex had a personal chef and she did a lot more than just cook. What made me sick was finding out that I ate dinner on the table they’d had sex on.

  He stifled a laugh and shook his head. “More like sixty years old, and short and round. She’s been working for me for years now, and trust me, there are no attractions there whatsoever.”

  I held up my hands. “Hey, you can’t blame me for asking. My ex loved to taste more than what his chef was cooking.”

  Sighing, he closed his eyes and lowered his head. “Fuck, I’m sorry. If I’d have known it was a sore subject with you, I never would’ve teased you about it.”

  I shrugged. “It’s okay. He was a stupid football player who thought he could get any woman he wanted. Unfortunately, I didn’t find that out until much later.”

  His head snapped up. “What was his name?”

  “Mark Whitmore. He used to play for Dallas until he was traded to Arizona.”

  He nodded. “I know who he is. What a fucking douche.”

  Time seemed to stand still. I didn’t know what to say after that, and neither did Jack. I couldn’t believe I’d let that information slip out so easily. Usually, I didn’t like telling people about my past—especially men, because I knew in their minds they probably thought the reason I was cheated on was because I was boring in bed.

  Jack stared at the floor like there was clearly something on his mind. He was probably thinking the same thing, that he was wasting his time on me. “I should probably go,” I blurted out. “I think I’ve talked a little too much.”

  Jack shook his head and lifted his gaze to mine. “You haven’t talked enough. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

  “Likewise,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I was nervous being around him, almost like a schoolgirl being around her crush.

  What the hell was wrong with me? I had told him more in the hour I’d been with him than I had any other man in the past year. The problem was, I didn’t know if I could trust him. Unfortunately, the only way to find out was to give him a chance. He opened the door and I stepped out, but then an idea came to mind.

  “Hey, do you mind
letting me take a couple of your sketches? I want to do something with them.”

  He lifted his brows. “You’re not going to sell them, are you?”

  “No!” I insisted. “No one will see them but me, I promise.” He stared at me for a second, and I could tell it was hard for him to part with his work. I couldn’t blame him. It would be hard for me to let go of it too. Turning on his heel, he walked into the living room and grabbed the entire portfolio.

  “Take them all,” he said, handing them to me.

  “Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”

  He waved me off and I reluctantly took all of his drawings. “I trust you, Bristol. Besides, I know where to find you if you fuck me over.” I could only imagine the shit storm that would ensue if anyone ever did try to steal his ideas.

  “Thank you for trusting me with them. I’ll keep them safe.” He watched me get into my car and drive away. Tomorrow I’d be with him again, and I had to make sure to keep my wits about me.

  Chapter 9

  Jaxon

  All through the night, I dreamt about Bristol, and I woke up with a raging hard-on. That girl was going to be the death of me. Before she showed up at my house, I spent hours searching through each and every room, hiding all of my football trophies and awards. I knew I was going to have to tell her my real name, but I didn’t want her to know I was on Ryan’s team. However, I didn’t actually lie when I told her my name was Jack. It was what my parents called me when I was young.

  The way she analyzed me and stood her ground made me want her even more, and not because she was Delaney’s sister. At first, I thought I wanted her out of revenge, but now I knew that wasn’t it at all. I wanted her for myself. Delaney was the last thing on my mind when Bristol was around; I couldn’t care less about that cocksucker now. I had my own agenda…and it didn’t involve Delaney. There was something different about Bristol and I couldn’t put my finger on it. I didn’t want to just have sex with her, even though that would be nice right about now. She wasn’t superficial and just after my money like every other girl I’d messed around with. She was deep.