by Jill Shalvis
And it was bullshit.
The truth was he could make the time. If he wanted.
If a woman wanted…
Granted, a woman would have to want him pretty damn bad to put up with the admittedly crazy schedule, but others managed it. People all around him managed it.
And Jesus, was he really thinking this? Maybe he’d had the wine instead of Rainey. But ever since he’d left Santa Rey all those years ago, he’d felt like he was missing a part of himself.
Someone had once asked him if the NHL had disillusioned him at all, and he’d said no. He’d meant it. He hadn’t been disillusioned by fame and fortune in the slightest. But he did have to admit, having a place to step back from that world, a place where he was just a regular guy, was nice. Real nice.
And wouldn’t his dad love hearing that.
“You should have left me alone tonight,” Rainey said, standing there in the parking lot.
Looking down in her flushed face, he slowly nodded. “I should have.”
From the depths of her purse, her cell phone vibrated. It took her a minute to find it and then she squinted at the readout. “Crap. It’s my mom. Shh, don’t tell her I’m drunk.”
He laughed softly as she stood there in the parking lot and opened the phone.
“Hey, Mom, sorry I missed your call earlier, I was on a date date. Or a not-so-date-date.” She sighed. “Never mind.” She paused. “No, I have no idea what I was thinking going out with a guy who has tickets to the ballet. You’re right. And no, I’m not alone. I’m with Mark Diego— No, he’s not still cute. He’s…” Rainey looked Mark over from head to toe and back again, and her eyes darkened. “Never mind that either! What? No, I’m not going to bring him to dinner this week! Why? Because…because he’s busy. Very busy.”
Mark leaned in close. “Hi, Mrs. Saunders.”
Rainey covered the phone with her hand and glared up at him. “What are you doing?”
He had no idea. “Does she still make that amazing lasagna—”
“Yes, not that you’re going to taste it. Now shh! No, not you, Mom.” She put her hand over Mark’s face, pushing him away. “Uh oh, Mom, bad connection.” She faked the sound of static. “Love you. Bye!”
Mark remembered Rainey’s parents fondly. Her father was a trucker and traveled a lot. Her mother taught English at the high school. She was sweet and fun, and there was no doubt where Rainey had gotten her spirit from. “Your mom likes me.”
“Yeah, but she likes everyone.” She walked through the parking lot, then stopped short so unexpectedly he nearly plowed into the back of her. “I can’t remember where I parked.” Her phone rang again. “Oh for god’s sake, Mom,” she muttered, then frowned at the readout. “Okay, not my mom. Hello?” Her body suddenly tensed, and she peered into the dark night. “Who is this?”
Mark shifted in closer, a hand at the small of her back as he eyed the lot around them.
“No,” she said. “I didn’t say that. And I certainly didn’t threaten you then, but I am now. Keep your hands off Sharee, Martin, and don’t ever call me again.” She shoved the phone back into her purse.
“Who was that?”
“Sharee’s father. Says I’m interfering where my interfering ass doesn’t belong. I’m to shut up and be quiet—which I believe is a double negative.” She looked around them and shivered. “And I still can’t remember where I parked, dammit.”
“Over here.” He led her to his truck and got her into the passenger seat, leaning down to buckle her seat belt before locking her in. “Did he threaten you?” he asked when he was behind the wheel.
“No, I threatened him. And I’m really not supposed to do that.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Mark said. “Tell me exactly what he said to you.”
She sighed and sank into his leather seats, looking so fucking adorable, he felt his throat tighten. “It should piss me off when you get all possessive and protective,” she said. “But it’s oddly and disturbingly cute.”
He stared at her. “Cute?”
“Yeah.” She was quiet as he pulled out of the lot, and he wondered if she’d fallen asleep.
“Did you know I hadn’t had sex in a year?” she asked, then sighed. “I really missed the orgasms.”
Since he was dizzy with the subject change it took him a moment to formulate a response. “Orgasms are good.”
“Better than lasagna.”
“Damn A straight.” He had them halfway home before she spoke again.
“Mark?”
“Yeah?”
She turned her head to look at him, her face hidden by the night. “My car isn’t a truck.”
“No?”
“And my car doesn’t go this fast, and certainly not this smooth.”
“Huh,” he said.
“Wait.” She sat straight up, restrained by the seat belt. “Are you kidnapping me?”
He slid her a look. “And if I was?”
“I don’t know. I’m not tied up or anything.”
“Did you want to be?”
“No, of course not.” But her eyes glazed over and not from fear, making him both hard and amused at the same time.
* * *
RAINEY WAS STILL nice and buzzed but she knew that she was mad at Mark. Somehow that made him all the more dark and sexy. She eyed his tie. He was so sexy in that tie. “I’ve been thinking....”
“Always dangerous.”
“Maybe the other night wasn’t as good as I remembered it.”
“It was.”
“I don’t know....” She shrugged, and the jacket he’d wrapped around her slipped off her shoulders. “I might need a review.”
He slid her a look that nearly had her going up in flames. He turned back to the road and took a deep breath. And then another when she leaned across the console and loosened his tie, slowly pulling it from around his neck, during which time her other hand braced on his thigh, high enough to maybe accidentally even brush against his zipper.
“Christ, Rainey.” His voice was strained in a new way, an extremely arousing way, egging her on. The next thing she knew, the truck swerved. She gripped the dash, laughing breathlessly as he whipped them to the side of the road and let her do as she wanted, which was crawl into his lap. His eyes dilated to solid black, his hands cupping her behind as she kissed him.
And kissed him…
She kissed him until she knew with certainty—it had been as good as she remembered.
Better.
* * *
RAINEY WOKE UP with a start and stared into two dark melted pools of… “Mmm,” she said. “Chocolate.”
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” Warm fingers ran over her forehead, brushing the hair from her face. “You’re home.”
She sat straight up in the passenger seat of his truck and stared around her. They were parked at her place. “I fell asleep?”
“Little bit.” He was crouched at her side between her and the opened door.
She looked into his face and sighed. After a very sexy make out session, he’d gently put her back on her side of the truck and that was all she remembered before falling asleep. She knew that much of Mark’s job involved taking care of people: his players, his management team, the press…everything. It all fell under his jurisdiction. And here he was, taking care of her.
That burned. She took care of herself. And to that end, she unhooked her seat belt and turned to him. “Excuse me.”
He obliged her by rising to his full height and offering her a hand. Which she only took so as not to be rude. And because she was just a little bit wobbly. And maybe because God, he looked so good. He was wearing a suit— Wait. Nope. She was wearing his jacket…and his tie. He was in just black slacks and a dark gray shirt shoved up to his elbows, revealing forearms that she knew from firsthand experience were warm and corded with strength.
The corners of his mouth tipped into an almost smile, a light of wicked naughtiness playing in his eyes. Suddenly suspicious, sh
e ran her hands down her body, checking. Yep, she was still in her little black dress, bra and panties in place, though the latter seemed to have a telltale dampness…
His soft laugh brought her gaze back up to his.
“Relax.” His voice was low and husky, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile. He set a hand at the base of her back and used his other to glide a fingertip slowly from her temple to her chin, the touch setting off a trail of sparks. “If we’d gotten naked again, you’d have woken up for it.”
Her nipples tightened. “That’s…cocky.”
“That’s fact,” he assured her, and kissed her, slow and sensual.
“What was that?” she whispered when he pulled back.
“If you don’t know, I’m doing something wrong.”
Actually, he couldn’t do it less wrong.
Mark propelled her up the path to her town house. At the door, she stopped to fumble through her purse for her keys. “Where are they?”
“I gave them to James.”
“You stole my keys? When?”
“When you were flirting with Dumbass at the bar.”
“I wasn’t flirting!”
He ran a hand along the top of the doorway, feeling the ledge.
She allowed herself to admire the flex of his shoulders and back muscles beneath his shirt. Not finding a key, Mark squatted low to peek beneath the mat while she peeked too—at his terrific ass.
“Where’s your spare key?” he asked.
“How do you know I have one?”
“All women do.”
She tore her gaze off his butt. “Excuse me. All women?”
He turned and eyed the potted plant besides the door before lifting the heavy ten gallon container with ease, smiling at the spare key lying there.
Dammit.
He calmly opened the door and nudged her in, turning on lights and looking curiously around. The town house was small, and given that she had a great job with crappy pay, it was also sparsely furnished. Most everything was reclaimed from various places, but she’d gathered them all herself, and it was home. “Thanks for the ride,” she said.
He turned to her and slowly backed her to the door, resting his forearms along either side of her head. “That’s not how you promised to thank me.”
“Um—”
Shifting closer, he ran his hands down her body. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”
“Well…” A hint. She needed a hint.
“You talk in your sleep.” He remained so close she was breathing his air, and he hers. “It was very enlightening,” he said.
Oh, God. What had she said? Given the naughty dreams she’d had about him all week, it could have been anything.
He laughed softly, but then he moved away from her and into her kitchen. She managed to walk on trembly limbs to her couch and sink into it, listening to him help himself to her cupboards.
A minute later he came out with a full glass of water and a few aspirin, both of which he handed to her. “Drink the whole glass, just in case you have a morning hangover coming your way. ’Night, Rainey.”
She stared in shock at his very fine ass as it walked to the front door. “You’re…leaving?”
She saw his broad shoulders rise as he took a deep breath, and when he turned to face her, she realized he wasn’t nearly as calm and relaxed as she’d thought. “Yes,” he said.
“But—”
“Rainey, if I come an inch closer, I’m going to pick you up and rip that sexy dress off you, and then the bra and panties you were worried about earlier, leaving you in nothing but my tie and those heels, which, by the way, have been driving me crazy all night.”
She felt her heart kick into gear.
“And then,” he said. “I’m going to take you to your bedroom and do what you so sweetly begged me to do in your sleep.”
“Wh-what did I ask you to do?” she whispered.
“Tie you up to your headboard and ravish you.”
Oh, God. “I—I asked you to do that?”
“You asked me to do it until you screamed my name.”
“I’ve never…” She broke off and squirmed a little on the couch. Her skin felt too tight, and her heart was thudding against her ribs. “Some of that would be…new.” Some, as in all.
He looked at her for a long beat, then moved back to her. Slowly he crouched at her side and tugged playfully on the tie. “Go to bed, Rainey. Alone. Drink the water and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Right. She nodded and closed her eyes.
She heard him move away, but the door didn’t open. So she opened her eyes and found him standing in front of it, his hand on the doorknob, head bowed against the wood.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Trying to make myself leave.” He lifted his head. “Because tomorrow you’re going to remember that you don’t like me, and I’m going to want to kick my own ass for not sticking around while you do.”
In her tired state, that somehow made sense. Sad, sad sense. “You’re right. Tomorrow I’ll probably go back to being an uptight, bitchy control freak.”
He smiled. “You’re not bitchy.”
“Just an uptight control freak?”
“Well, maybe a little.”
She laughed. Laughed. And suddenly, she didn’t want him to leave. She really really didn’t. What she did want was him. Again. She wasn’t sure exactly why she was still so attracted to him, but she had a nice buzz going and decided it was okay not to think about it right now. So she stood up.
“What are you doing?”
“Instigating again.” She climbed up on the coffee table. She wasn’t sure why she did it exactly, except maybe because he was tall and sure and confident, and she needed to be those things too. Plus it just seemed like a striptease should be done from a tabletop. Reaching behind her, she unzipped her dress.
“Rainey.”
His voice was hoarse, and very very serious, and ooh, she liked it.
She liked it a lot.
“You need to stop,” he said, sounding very alpha.
She liked that too. She wondered if he’d boss her around when they got into bed.
She kind of hoped so.
She let the little straps slip off her shoulders, holding the material to her breasts. She thought she was being sexy as hell, so his telling her to stop confused her. “Why?”
“I’m not having drunk sex with you.”
“I’m not drunk.” She let the dress slowly slip from her breasts, revealing her pretty black lace push-up bra.
Mark appeared to stop breathing. “Rainey—”
“Whoops.” She let go of her dress. “Look at that....” She’d planned the dress sliding gracefully down her body to pool at her feet, but that’s not what happened. It caught on her hips. She tried a little shimmy but her heels were much higher than her usual sneakers. Which meant that her ankle gave and she tumbled gracelessly to the floor.
“Jesus.”
She heard Mark drop to his knees at her side, felt his hands run over her body. She could also feel that her dress had bunched at both the top and the bottom, ending up around her waist like a wadded belt. Probably she wasn’t looking as sexy as she’d hoped.
“Rainey.”
There was both a warning and a sexy growl to his voice, so she lay there, eyes closed, playing possum with those big, warm hands on her.
You just executed the most pathetic striptease ever, you idiot.
“Rainey.”
She scrunched her eyes tighter, wondering what the chances were that he’d believe she’d died and would just go away.
“Dead women don’t have hard nipples,” he said, sounding amused. “Or wet panties.”
With a gasp at his crudeness—and her body’s traitorous reaction—she sat straight up and cracked her head on his chin.
He fell to his ass at her side and laughed, and when he straightened up, she shoved him. Staggering to her feet, she took stock. Now her dress was
around her ankles. Perfect. Nice work on bringing the sexy. Turning away from him, she weeble-wobbled across the living room, dragging the dress behind her, limping on her left ankle.
From behind her, Mark made a sound that told her either he liked the view or he’d swallowed his tongue. She tried not to picture what she looked like as she went to her bedroom and slammed the door on his choked laugh.
Bastard.
Her ankle was really burning now. She probably needed ice, but since that meant walking back out there, she’d do without. Somehow—she wasn’t sure how exactly—this was all Mark’s fault. In fact, she was positive of it.
Crawling onto her bed, she proceeded to cover her head with her pillow, where she planned to stay forever and pretend the entire evening had been a bad dream.
8
RAINEY CAME AWAKE slowly and lay very still, trying to figure out why she felt like she wasn’t alone. What had she done last night? The ballet. Jacob. The wine. Mark… The entire evening came crashing back to her, and eyes still closed, she groaned miserably. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” said an amused male voice. Mark, of course.
Her eyes flew open. It was morning, which she knew because the sun was slanting in the windows across her face, making her eyeballs hurt. Mark was lying on top of her covers, head propped up on his hand, casual as he pleased. He wore only his slacks, unbuttoned, and was sprawled out for her viewing pleasure, all lean, hard planes and—
No. Stop looking at him. “What are you doing here?”
He leaned over her, and utterly without thinking, she ran her hands up his back with a little purr of sheer pleasure.
Mark went still, staring down at her in rare surprise while his arm kept moving, grabbing a mug of steaming coffee from her nightstand. “I just wanted to make sure you were alive before I left,” he said.
She forced her hands off him and tried to pretend she hadn’t opened her legs to let him slip between them. She took the proffered coffee and drank away her embarrassment. “Thanks,” she finally murmured, setting the mug down. Then casually lifted the covers to peek beneath.