Worth the Risk: (A Contemporary Bad Boy Romance)

by Weston Parker

  As he finished dressing, he marveled at how quickly he'd come to care about the woman who had orchestrated today's activities. She could have easily gone overboard, tried to impress him with luxury and flash. The budget he'd named had been big enough for something outlandish. But instead of blowing ridiculous sums on meaningless opulence, she'd planned a day in which they could spend time together in a shared activity, learning more about one another while enjoying nature. He wondered if she knew how close she was to the real Brice, not the millionaire playboy she thought he was.

  He spotted her immediately when he came on deck. She was staring out over the waters, taking in the endless green of pines and the steel blue of the lake. Brice wanted to walk up behind her, to pull her back into his arms and press infinite tiny kisses on the line that ran from her shoulder blade to her ear while muttering "Rule #3 be damned!" But he didn't. He couldn't. He was playing to win, and that meant he had to abide by the seemingly intolerable rules that he himself had set. It wasn't about the prize, although he was eager to collect that as well. It was instead about showing Janna what kind of man he really was.

  Although he'd initially been attracted to her for her outlandish outburst about the nature of the wealthy at his party, the realization that perhaps she really saw him this way began to grate quickly. Now Brice was determined to show her exactly who he was, to put her preconceptions to rest so that she would surrender herself fully to his ample charms. After all, being rich doesn't necessarily make one arrogant, and it was perfectly acceptable to acknowledge one's talents, after all.

  Smiling to himself he walked to Janna's side and pulled her attention away from the beauty of their surroundings. "Wishing you had your paints?" he asked quietly, and she rewarded him with her smile, making his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

  "There's no time for that. You've got to help me get this heap steered homeward, or the very strict arbiter of our wager will use our tardiness as an excuse to disqualify me."

  "I don't think said arbiter is as unreasonable as you say."

  "Oh, he definitely is," she drawled. "One tiny infraction and BAM!" she clapped her hands for effect, "Disqualified."

  "What a brute." Brice brushed a flyaway curl the color of burnished gold behind her ear. "I'm sure he'd be willing to let it slide, just this once. In any event, we won't be tardy if you help me raise these sails. Seems like there's more wind this afternoon, so we should make good time back to shore."

  "Great," Janna purred. "I'd hate to make the brute angry."

  "I'm sure." Brice rolled his eyes.

  They worked to raise the sails and move back across the lake. Their conversation was sparse, comfortable, like the gentle rocking of the waves. Brice didn't have to say anything, he could just exist by her side, and a feeling of intense calm would wash over him. She was equally silent, letting her sapphire eyes apprise him of her mood. He'd never felt this at peace with a woman before Janna, never this quiet connection. He'd give anything to hold on to this feeling, to hold on to her.

  Before long the marina came into view, and Brice skillfully maneuvered the boat into its moorings. He escorted his date onto the dock and led her back to the waiting limo. "As long as the driver can make it back to the estate in one hour, the time limit will remain intact."

  "What do you say, Chase," Janna asked, elbowing the driver as he held the door open for them. "Can we make it?"

  "No problem," he said with a wink, causing her to giggle.

  Motivated by a small, sudden spike of jealousy, Brice tugged her into the vehicle and onto his lap, imprisoning her in his arms. "If Chase is going to have to break the speed limit to get us back in time, I'd rather have you sit here, so I can keep you safe."

  "M-hm," she said, her tone doubtful. "Wouldn't I be safer if I were buckled up in the seat over there?" she asked, pointing to the bench seat opposite them.

  "Perhaps in a regular sedan or sports car, but in a limousine, the safest place is right here, on my lap."

  "Do you provide this service for all your passengers, or perhaps to any limousine passenger in general, regardless of whether you own the car or not?"

  "I would, you know," he said dryly, "but it leaves me so little time to squander money in the casinos or dirty dance with supermodels at expensive nightclubs."

  Janna laughed. "Why, one would almost think you were joking, Mr. Masterson."

  "I never joke about dirty dancing, Miss Puchina."

  The ride home was a light-hearted affair. Some might even call it a romp. Brice tried unsuccessfully to keep Janna on his lap while she teased him mercilessly and found ways of escaping his "lusty questing," as she'd called it in a fit of giggles. In what seemed like only minutes they were pulling up in front of the entrance to Brice's mansion. The mood became more somber as he helped her out of the limo and walked her toward her waiting Volvo.

  "Are you sure this beast is road-worthy?" he asked, eyeing the rusting contraption skeptically.

  "Always has been so far," she replied, tugging the door open and climbing inside before he could grab her again.

  Brice smiled but refused to let go of her door. He crouched down, leaning into her car and capturing her lips in a kiss filled with longing. "You shall receive your instructions for tomorrow via email this evening. Please follow them as faithfully as I've followed yours."

  "Of course," she said, her eyes slightly dazed after his kiss.

  "Goodnight, Miss Puchina."

  "Goodnight, Mister Masterson."

  Chapter Eight

  Dear Miss "Preparing-To-Eat-Her-Words" Puchina,

  Here are your instructions for tomorrow's engagement. Failure to follow these very reasonable demands will result in a violation of the terms of the wager.

  1. Wear comfortable clothing because you will get dirty.

  2. Eat breakfast before your departure. The temporal restrictions of the engagement are such that no extra time is permitted in the morning for a meal.

  3. Be prepared for pickup at 10:00 am.

  I look forward to our engagement tomorrow, as well as to coming out on top. Literally.

  With extreme fondness,

  Brice Masterson

  World Champion Datesmith

  Janna couldn't help but smile as she once again read Brice's "list of demands." It was short and cocky, and in no way satisfied her burning curiosity for the details of their "engagement." She had done her best to follow instructions, dressing in a worn v-neck t-shirt and comfortable jeans, and was just now finishing her breakfast -- a banana and a handful of walnuts. She nervously checked the time once again, wishing 10:00 would hurry up and arrive already. Stepping out on the co-op's front porch, Janna again lets her curiosity about today consume her thoughts.

  Her expectations couldn't be higher, but she wondered at the "because you will get dirty" portion of the instructions. Perhaps Brice was planning some kind of adventure sport. More likely Tony had planned one, and Brice was just passing along his directions.

  Janna suppressed a sigh. Men like Brice Masterson were busy running their empire and making plans for world domination. They didn't worry so much about winning ridiculous wagers to impress their momentary infatuations. No, they had skilled assistants to do that.

  Even as these thoughts arose, uncertainty struggled to the surface as well. It didn't seem like Brice was bent on world domination, and he had admitted that he preferred a more hands-off approach to his empire building. Maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he did take their wager seriously.

  Janna didn't have time to decide, however, as she watched a familiar limousine attempt to pull into the co-op's awkward driveway. She skipped down the steps and jogged over to the driver side door. Chase's smile greeted her as he rolled down his window.

  "Don't bother pulling all the way in. I'll jump in, and you can back out more easily." At his nod, she headed over to the back passenger door before the driver could jump out and open it for her. She was surprised to find the limo emp
ty. No Brice.

  As Chase pulled out of the co-op and back onto the street, he rolled down the center divider and yelled back at Janna. "Mr. Masterson told me to inform you that he would be meeting you at the location of your engagement, and for you to just relax and enjoy the anticipation."

  "Enjoy the anticipation?" Janna said, with an accompanying sound that was halfway between a laugh and a groan.

  "He made sure that I said that part word-for-word."

  "I'm sure he did." Janna smiled, pleased at how well Brice knew her, despite their short acquaintance. He would know she was already biting her nails in anticipation. She wondered where this top-secret location was. Would they be outdoors? The sun had made a weak appearance this morning, and the sky was showing its blueness behind a sprinkling of white fluff. She wouldn't mind spending some time outside, getting "dirty" with Brice Masterson.

  Before she could weigh all the potentialities, the limo stopped, and Chase was opening her door. Janna stepped out and realized they were in a crowded parking lot. She glanced at the nearby building, and her jaw dropped. Her mind had listed a million possibilities for their date, but it had never once entertained this one. At that moment Janna realized how badly Brice wanted to win the bet. And how likely it was that he would.

  * * *

  The McKenzie Afterschool Program was ecstatic to be on the receiving end of Brice Masterson's generosity, or so the chairwoman, Eliza Waltz, repeatedly informed him. Brice smiled and nodded once again, hoping his impatience didn't show on his face. Janna should be arriving any minute, and then this circus could get underway.

  "I hope you don't mind," Mrs. Waltz was saying while placing a pudgy hand on his arm, "but I invited a few local newspersons to cover today's event. It will provide some excellent publicity for the program."

  Brice tried hard not to frown down into the wrinkled face of the chairwoman at the unwelcome news, instead scanning the parking lot once again. He saw a news van pull up, followed by another, and was hard pressed not to sigh.

  Brice was used to the press, finding them generally easy to charm. But today wasn't about him. It was about Janna and winning the wager, and his way into her heart. The press was an unwelcome public intrusion into what he considered a private engagement.

  He caught sight of his limo, and an enormous smile broke out across his face. At that moment the approaching cameras didn't worry him too much. All his attention was focused on the attractive woman who was stepping out of his limousine.

  She was wearing a worn gray t-shirt with the unlikely words "Orange Peanut" scrawled in a horrible rust color, and the curls that escaped her messy bun fell around her shoulders in a soft cascade. Her sapphire eyes were wide with confusion, and when they finally settled on him across the now crowded parking lot, his heart contracted almost painfully in his chest. Brice hurried over to meet her, the elderly chairwoman almost jogging to keep up with his long strides as she followed him.

  "Janna," he said warmly, pulling her into his arms for an embrace. He wanted to kiss her, tried to capture her lips, but kissed her cheek instead when she quickly turned her head to the side.

  "Brice," she whispered, confusion and panic waring in her voice, "what's going on?"

  "I'm winning our bet," he replied with a devilish grin.

  "Ms. Puchina," Chairwoman Waltz interrupted, slightly winded from her chase. "How nice to see you. I wasn't aware that one of our volunteers was acquainted with Brice Masterson." Eliza Waltz obviously possessed the wisdom of her years because she immediately realized what had prompted his generous, and sudden, donation, and she was not one to miss an opportunity. "Ms. Puchina tutors some of the older children every Tuesday and Thursday night," Chairwoman Waltz touted her eyes on Brice's.

  "I am well aware that Ms. Puchina is a paragon of virtue who delights in helping her fellow man," Brice responded with a smile.

  "So we're back to virtue," Janna whispered to him out of the side of her mouth.

  "This fellow man could certainly use your help."

  "Well, as you said, I'd, of course, be delighted to help." Her smile had an evil tinge. "If only I knew how..."

  "Grab a shovel," he said, his voice loud enough to reach Waltz's ear, who had been leaning in desperate to catch their words. "This playground isn't going to build itself."

  Janna burst into laughter, which was quickly overrun by the rush of voices from reporters, who took Brice's words as their cue to descend.

  "Mr. Masterson," a portly gentleman with an unruly facial hair said, pushing his way to the forefront, "will you be giving a general press conference or individual interviews? The release wasn't clear."

  Brice groaned inwardly at the thought of a dozen individual interviews with the camera crews that were rapidly gathering around them. "One shot for everybody," he replied swiftly. "Set up over there, where the workmen are organizing the supplies. We'll start in ten."

  Janna pulled on his sleeve, looking up into his eyes and stopping his breath. She was so unbelievably beautiful, and she didn't even notice. "Brice, what's going on?"

  He looked over at Eliza, who was still hovering and asked her politely to supervise the cameras and reporters. "You invited the press, so you wrangle them," he told the not-so-little old lady. She hurried over to cluck at the crews as they set up their shots.

  Brice slid his arm through hers and began slowly escorting her across the parking lot and toward the lawn where the camera crews were assembling. "First, I didn't intend for the press to be here. I want to make that clear. I don't want this to count against me."

  "Count against you?"

  "You'll be making the final decisions about our wager. I want you to realize that I didn't plan for this to be a circus."

  "What exactly did you plan?"

  "To win the bet."

  "Of course," she said, rolling her eyes. "But how?"

  "You said you would donate my time to your favorite charity if you won the bet. So I figured to ensure my victory, I would donate my time to your favorite charity myself, as part of the date."

  "You devious bastard. It's brilliant."

  "Thank you, my darling." He bent to place a chaste kiss on her cheek. "So, for the next two hours, we'll work on building the playground. And when my hours are up, my people will stay here and finish the job."

  "Your people?" He watched her scan the crowd and picked out the men and women dressed in t-shirts with the Masterson logo.

  "I informed all of my local employees that if they wanted to volunteer their time today to a worthy charity, I would give them a paid day off to do so. That got quite a few volunteers. The others are professionals I hired to make sure the playground gets completed today."

  "But we haven't raised enough money yet to buy the--"

  "You raised it."

  Janna blushed and wanted to continue their conversation, but they had reached the ring of reporters. Brice escorted her to the center, then beckoned the chairwoman over to join them. Picking up a shovel, he welcomed the press and told them to begin filming.

  "The Mastersons have always felt very privileged to be able to support worthy causes, and there are none so worthy as those that help our youth. That is why we're here helping to build a playground at the McKenzie Afterschool Program. My employees and I are dedicating ourselves to completing this project today so that the children who participate in this program will have somewhere safe to play. Now I'll turn things over to the illustrious chairwoman of the program, Mrs. Eliza Waltz, who will tell you all about the wonderful things this program does for our community's youth."

  Eliza preened in the spotlight, but Brice paid little attention to her words, or to the cameras and journalists jostling all around him. He only had eyes for the angelic woman next to him. He could tell the press conference made Janna nervous, but she remained by his side, her posture ramrod straight, a soft smile on her face. Before he'd realized it, Mrs. Waltz had wrapped up her speech, and the reporters took the opportunity to begin shouting questions. Unf
ortunately, the one question on their collective mind was just who exactly was the woman at Brice's side.

  "Mr. Masterson, is it true that you are in a relationship with the woman beside you?"

  "Who is she? Are you engaged?"

  "Is it true that she's moved into the Masterson mansion?"

  Brice frowned when he realized that the rapid-fire invasiveness of the press was getting to Janna. "Now, now," he chastised the crowd, waiting for them to quiet themselves. "This lovely woman beside me is Ms. Janna Puchina, a volunteer at the Afterschool Program. She's also my girlfriend."

  There were audible gasps in the crowd, and Janna's eyes widened to epic proportions as she looked at him. "No more questions," he said then, pulling Janna with him through the crowd and toward his hirelings. "I'm sorry," he said, placing his hand on the back of her neck and kneading it gently. "I didn't expect all of this--"

  "You told them I was your girlfriend."

  "You are."

  "But--"

  Brice pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around hers to keep her in place. "No buts. You're my girlfriend. Now the world knows it." He bent down and kissed her softly. "The clock is ticking, and I don't want to waste anymore time on talk. Let's get to work."

  * * *

  Two hours later, Janna's hands were starting to hurt from gripping the shovel. Brice had been true to his word. They were dirty.

  He stood in the middle of the large hole in which the foundation for the play equipment would be placed, his sleeves rolled up and his face smudged with dirt. Janna could see his muscles ripple as he shoveled. He fit in with the professional construction workers around him, his physique honed and eminently masculine. Brice impressed her, no doubt about it. Not just with his sexy body, but with his heart.

  He'd donated more than his time to this project. The volunteers were here are his prompting, as were the men he'd hired. And she knew the Afterschool Program was thousands of dollars away from their donations target. He must have given them the rest of the money they needed to purchase the playground equipment. It was definitely impressive.