Dirty Games (Tropical Temptation)

by Beck, Samanthe

  He caught a handful of the front of her robe and anchored her in place. “It got a lot shorter, as of a minute ago.”

  “You know what, Luke? You can take your list and shove it up your—”

  “The day your brother called, I overheard you telling him you missed him. I thought you were hung up on some guy. An ex.”

  “Wow. I’m a neurotic, narcissistic, lying cheater. That’s pretty low, even for me. I told you I wasn’t involved with anyone. Do you really think I’d get on my knees for you if I was?”

  Some emotion she couldn’t name lit the gold around his pupils. “I didn’t think you were involved with him. I thought you had feelings for him. Which you do, as it turns out, but I misinterpreted the situation. I’ve been tearing myself up for weeks because of it.”

  Her heart stuttered, and then took off at double-time. She rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned in close enough to watch his pupils expand. “What are you saying to me, Luke McLean?”

  He whipped her robe open again and they both watched his big, tanned hand cup her pale breast. “I’m saying the thought of you missing an ex drove me crazy.” The admission came out in a tight, tortured voice. He kneaded her flesh possessively. “The idea that you might be longing for another man’s hands on you while you were here with me made me burn from the inside out.”

  His words were making her burn from the inside out. “You were…jealous?”

  He moved his hand to the place where her heart pounded. “As fuck. That crosses all kinds of lines, Trouble, and I know it, but I was jealous as fuck.”

  Her arms were around his neck before she knew she meant to hug him. As emotions went, his confession of jealousy fell far short of what she felt for him, but her eager heart was willing to accept inspiring his territorial impulses as a start. “I don’t care about the lines.” She didn’t. His lines were ridiculous as far as she was concerned. To demonstrate, she grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted. He raised his arms and let her drag it off.

  “I care. But I’ll deal with the lines we have left.” Before she could question his cryptic vow, he settled her astride his lap. “Trust me.” He nudged her forward and trailed his mouth along her jaw while she shivered at the way their bodies fit so perfectly together.

  His low voice vibrated in her ear. “Trust me.”

  …

  Luke sat on the end of his favorite lounge chair in the courtyard of Quinn’s villa, watching the first rays of dawn gild the clouds lined up across the sky, and holding his phone to his ear. Eddie’s cautious voice filled it, providing the wrong soundtrack for memories of Quinn kneeling between the chairs and showing him how much she appreciated imported chocolate ice cream.

  “When I asked for a favor,” Eddie continued, “I didn’t expect you to do it for free. You took a six-week hiatus from your business, dropped everything to go to Paradise Bay and train my client. It wasn’t a vacation. You’ve spent time and incurred expenses. You’re entitled to receive the compensation called for under the contract. Are you sure you want to do this, man?”

  Gold deepened to fire, tingeing sky and water pink. He’d get Quinn in the water today. Maybe a beach run for cardio, and then a swim to cool down and work some muscle groups besides her legs. After that? Quinn, wet and panting…the possibilities abounded.

  “Luke?”

  Eddie’s voice brought him back to the here and now. He wasn’t prepared for this debate, mainly because he hadn’t expected his friend to pick up at such an early hour. He’d aimed to leave a message and avoid explanations. “I’m sure. Cancel the contract. I’m waiving my fees and absorbing the expenses. My business manager will refund the deposit. I’m not charging Quinn for this.”

  Luke heard a mattress groan, like someone shifting to sit up in bed, and then an unfamiliar murmur from the other end of the line. Shit. Had Eddie been…entertaining? Confirmation came quickly as his friend said, “Couple bottles of Ace in the wine fridge. Help yourself. Pour me a glass while you’re at it. I’ll be down soon.”

  A moment passed, presumably while Eddie waited for his guest to exit, and then he continued. “What’s going on? I thought you told me everything was on track. I grant you, I’ve only seen her over FaceTime, but she looks great. Are you telling me at five weeks into this, you’re not going to hit the goal?”

  “Not at all. She’s done an amazing job. If you want to measure the success of this effort strictly by BMI, we’ll do the fifth week assessment on Friday and I expect she’ll be within a percentage point of her target. Relax, Eddie. She’s there. If the producers saw her today, the out clause would never enter their minds. Their only concern would be getting her in front of the cameras as soon as possible.”

  “Okay. That’s a relief. But then why are you killing the contract?”

  “Because I don’t get involved with clients.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything? Ah. Never mind. I retract the question.”

  “Yeah. Ah. It’s not a problem if she’s not a client.”

  “That’s a huge fucking forfeit on your part…”

  “I’ve done the math—”

  “…especially if you’re just being a stickler. You two indulged in a one-off? You’re both consenting adults. Call it a moment of personal time, and get back to work. Ten days from now, she won’t be a client.”

  “I’m not being a stickler, you cynical bastard. It wasn’t a one-off. We’re involved.” Exasperation turned his voice terse. “I didn’t plan it, but it happened, and I can’t undo it.”

  “This is probably a good point for me to mention that Quinn’s not just one of my favorite clients, she’s one of my favorite people. I sent her to you, so I’m also going to say this. She deserves some fucking enthusiasm, not a guy with no plan who’s trying to ‘undo’ a personal mistake with a professional sacrifice.”

  Fair enough. He let out a breath and rubbed the back of his head. He didn’t mean to come off like an unwilling victim. All the hesitancy he felt was on her behalf. She deserved a chance to consider her feelings in a couple weeks when real life resumed, and decide if this was really what she wanted. But he hadn’t given it to her. His plans moving forward didn’t involve giving it to her, and deep down, he had no regrets. “Even if I could undo it, I wouldn’t want to. Quinn’s not a mistake.”

  “All right. Fine.” Eddie paused for a moment—the mating calls of a few die-hard Coqui frogs filled the silence—and then he added, “I’ve worked with her since she was a kid. I know she’s not a kid anymore, but she’s also not as tough and jaded as she comes off.”

  Luke leaned against the painted wood railing and turned his face into the salty breeze. “I know exactly what she is.” A headstrong, smart-mouthed, compassionate, talented, hardworking pain in his ass, and he’d fallen in love with her.

  “She’s also about to hit the next level in a business you want nothing to do with. Just winning the Lena Xavier role put all kinds of heat on her. I’m seeing a Dirty Games updraft like you wouldn’t believe, and when filming and promotion start, it will get even crazier. Projects roll in every day. Good projects. She sings, she dances, and she acts. Talent and versatility, wrapped up in the kind of package the camera loves. Her trajectory is straight up. There’s no undoing that, either.”

  “And I wouldn’t ask her to. Look, I appreciate your concern”—not really, but he recognized Eddie was trying to look out for her—“but we both know I understand what I’m signing up for. Do I love the Hollywood game? No. It’s a big hustle, as far as I’m concerned. But she wants to play, so we’ll work it out.”

  “For the record, you’re one of my favorite people, too.”

  “Aw. Now you’re making me blush.”

  “You’re also a sarcastic prick,” he replied, “but I have confidence Quinn can serve the sarcasm right back to you in spades. You two could be good for each other, but don’t let the fact that she came to you as a client delude you into thinking you’re in charge. In my experience, relationships
and unilateral decisions don’t mix. Especially not ones that set you back, financially. Paradise Bay has a lot to recommend it, but cost isn’t one of them. Your expenses alone could choke a horse. Can you afford to take this kind of hit, just to avoid some optics that make you uncomfortable?”

  The loss dwindled his cash reserve to a stingy level, but he’d manage. “The optics matter.”

  “Have you discussed this with her? Or considered what the optics look like to her? I guarantee she’s going to see things differently.”

  “I’ll square it with her. Tear up the contract, Eddie. There are a lot of things I’ll accept from Quinn, but money isn’t one of them.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Quinn woke slowly, languishing in the hazy space between dream and reality. The dreams were hard to leave—a low voice rolling over like a velvet caress, a big hand fisted in her hair, strong thighs backstopping hers, and the slap of skin on skin so loud, it still echoed in her ears, along with a strangely familiar hum. Just dreams?

  Reality beckoned, each trace registering like a separate clue. Carelessly drawn drapes filtered soft light into her mahogany and whitewashed bedroom. Her outflung arm rested over a warm, yet vacant side of the bed. A side she had a fuzzy memory of lying half out of at one point last night, palms braced on the floor and her hair swinging into her face, obscuring her view of the locally loomed rug while strong hands lifted her hips to various angles to ensure her G-spot got a staggering workout. Speaking of workouts, the barest stretch of her sleep-slackened body set off intimate aches in certain well-used muscles.

  The low, familiar hum sounded again and roused her out of her floaty state of grace. This time she placed the sound. Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. Somebody kept trying to call her, and the noise had finally drawn her out of sleep. She leaned over and grabbed the phone. Her mom’s number flashed on the screen, along with the time. Six forty-five in the morning here translated to quarter to four, Pacific time. Alarm bells jangled in her brain, blasting away the last vestiges of lassitude.

  “Mom. What’s happened?”

  “Have you heard from your brother?”

  Her stomach clenched. “No.” Belatedly, she checked her texts. It didn’t change her answer. “Why? What does he need?”

  “To be located.”

  “Located? I don’t understand. He’s at Foundations—”

  “Not anymore. They called last night. He checked out. I thought you chose a reputable facility, Quinn. How could they let him leave?”

  Her heart sank under the weight of worry and her mother’s censure. “It’s not court-mandated rehab, Mom.” Yet another mistake on her part? Should she have pressed charges against her own brother, and then begged the judge to order him into a program? “It’s a private, voluntary facility and he’s an adult. They can’t hold him against his will.” Her mind scrambled for traction. “Who’d he check out with? Did someone pick them up? Does he have any money?”

  “They can’t tell me if he left with anyone, due to patient confidentiality rules. I don’t know if anyone picked him up. Money? No. And he doesn’t have access to any. He ran through his cash years ago. Your father and I have been in no position to replenish his accounts.”

  Sad, but there it was. She pressed fingers to her temple and ordered herself to think. “Okay. All right. Don’t panic. I’ll call Eddie in a couple of hours and see what he can do.” The man hadn’t climbed to the upper echelon of sports and entertainment agents without being extremely resourceful, and well-connected. Plus, if Callum was wheeling around Los Angeles without cash, he might put a call in to his former agent. She hoped she could convince Eddie to take the call, just this once.

  “That’s a good idea. Eddie knows people…and he knows Callum.” Her mother already sounded calmer. “He might be able to work some magic.”

  “I hope.” She slumped against the pillows and worried her lip for a second, uncertain whether to offer the words tangled in her throat. Guilt pushed them up. “I can’t seem to work any magic where he’s concerned. I really thought he’d stick this time if we all stood firm. I should have listened to you. I’m sorry.”

  Silence greeted her apology. One heartbeat. Two. She braced herself for the recriminations which would drop like thunderbolts from the higher moral ground upon which her mother stood.

  Instead she got a long, weary sigh. “No, Quinn. I’m sorry. Last night when I spoke to the counselor managing your brother’s program, he pointed out that Callum’s request for me to arrange his transfer to Paradise Bay amounted to an attempt to spread responsibility for his failure to complete his program to me. He manipulates me very well because I’m susceptible. I take it personally when he fails, and I feel like a terrible parent. Useless, ineffective. I’m his mother, for God’s sake. I’m supposed to have the magic where my child is concerned, but I don’t. I just don’t. I never did.” Her mom’s voice broke. “But you did, Quinn. I don’t know if it’s because you’re twins, or what, but sometimes I sensed this special connection between you two, so I tried to…”

  Ann’s voice broke on a sob, and Quinn rushed to smooth things over. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” her mother replied, sounding steadier. “What I realized is that I do to you exactly what Callum does to me. I pull you in because I’m desperate to find someone stronger than me to bear the load. It’s horribly unfair to you. You’re not your brother’s keeper.”

  “Neither are you. He’s twenty-three, Mom. All grown up. He makes his own choices, and he has to deal with the consequences. All we can do is offer support when he’s ready for real help, but we’re not experts. Sometimes it’s hard to tell where to draw the line between supporting him and enabling him. We might get it wrong on occasion, but you know what? That doesn’t change the underlying fact that Callum is responsible for Callum. I know you’re worried about him. I am, too. But even when we find him, there’s no dragging him back to Foundations if he doesn’t want to go—or anywhere else, for that matter.”

  “I know.” Her mother breathed heavily. “In my heart, I know you’re right. It’s just so hard, as a parent, to watch your child struggle.”

  Favorite child, Quinn silently inserted, despite having made her peace with that hierarchy a long time ago. “It’s hard for me, too, Mom.” She wasn’t sure if empathy or self-defense motivated the comment, but her mother wasn’t trying to pick a fight, so she added, “You’re not alone. We want the same thing for him. We may not see eye-to-eye all the time about how to get there, but, ultimately we’re on the same side. His.”

  “I know that, too. I do, Quinn.” A hollow laugh followed. “Some mother I am. I never seem to have the right magic for one of my kids, and the other never needed any. At least not from me. I—Quinn—I’m sorry if I’ve been holding that against you. You were always so self-directed. So determined. You never undermined yourself the way he does.”

  Never undermined herself? Ha. Someday it might do them both good if she told her mother that wasn’t strictly true, but now wasn’t the time to dive into her needs and the bad habits they fostered. “You don’t have to justify anything. I mean, there’s nothing to justify. Magic takes many forms. If I learned to be self-directed, I probably have my parents to thank for it. Same goes for determination. Claim a little more credit for our successes, and a little less responsibility for every stumble, okay?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good.” She ended the call with a promise to get in touch as soon as she talked to Eddie, and an exchange of “I love you’s.”

  Her thumb hovered over the screen as she considered calling him now, and leaving a message, but decided against it. She wanted to speak to him. Better to call the office in a couple of hours. Lisa would make sure she got through, even if he was busy.

  She lowered her phone and looked around the empty room. Where was Luke?

  Auras and energy currents and psychic links weren’t her thing, but she didn’t need any woo-woo powers to sense the villa was em
pty. Luke McLean had left the building. Whatever morning-after fantasy she’d woven last night as she’d fallen asleep in his arms evaporated.

  Get over it. This isn’t the first time you’ve woken alone.

  It wasn’t. But it was the first time she’d cared. Last night he’d told her those hard-and-fast rules he’d been enforcing between them no longer mattered. Heck, together they’d eliminated another hard-and-fast rule—one she liked to refer to as the condom rule—by confirming she was on the pill and they were both risk-free. And for her, at least, that was not a one-night-stand kind of discussion. Had the first cringes of dawn found him regretting his words? Was he sending her a message with his absence?

  Cold tendrils of doubt wound their way through her. She straightened her spine and batted them back. Screw that. She intended to deliver a message of her own. Directly. She loved him, dammit. Her insides quivered a little at the thought. She loved the arrogant, bossy, inflexible bastard, and she didn’t give a single shit about his lines. She would say her piece, and he would listen, and then, if he didn’t feel the same, fine. She’d gather up the slivers of the heart she’d shattered for him, and try her best to put them back together. But if he was backing off out of some misguided notion of not taking advantage of her, she was going to kick his finely chiseled ass.

  Blood fired, she tossed the covers back, threw on a robe, and stalked downstairs. When she reached the landing, she heard the murmur of a voice. Through the open doors she saw Luke sitting on the patio, talking on his phone. The realization that he hadn’t escaped to his own space settled the boil of her temper to a simmer. She approached, lingering in the doorway to take in the sight of him profiled against the dawn. Bed-rumpled hair, the morning stubble shadowing his jaw, and the soft light caressing the telltale red marks on his shoulders left by her fingernails. A few frayed threads from his wash-worn jeans looked stark against the tanned skin of his foot. Belatedly, she noticed his shirt and shoes on the living room floor, along with her robe from last night. His getaway wardrobe was right there, if he’d been inclined to use it. She looked back at him, talking away in nothing but his haphazardly pulled on jeans. Apparently he wasn’t.