“Why not, LaLa?” She traced a finger down one cheek and across his jawline.
“Stop that.” He flinched and grasped her hand, holding it a little too tightly.
“You know you want me. Why the games?” She tilted her head and stared coyly up at him, knowing she didn’t do coy well. She was more of a hit-a-man-over-the-head type.
“I don’t play games. I’m not your type and you’re not mine.”
That stung. She knew she wasn’t, but he didn’t have to be so blunt about it. She forced a smile to hide the hurt he callously inflicted. “We’re not talking about anything serious. Just fun, and I’m exactly the type of woman for that.”
He licked his lips, and his dark gaze slipped to her breasts. His jaw hardened, but a muscle ticked right below his chin. He shook his head. “You need to leave now, Vi. This might be a game to you, but it sure as fuck isn’t to me. My days of screwing for screwing’s sake are over. I’m looking for a meaningful, long-term relationship.”
“Why not get a little while you’re looking for that perfect woman?” She cringed at the pathetic tone in her voice. She did not beg for a man’s affections. Or at least she hadn’t until now.
“You and I are oil and water. I don’t need drama and mayhem in my life.”
“Drama and mayhem can be damn exciting in bed.” She leaned into him, pressing her body against his hard chest and grinding her hips against his erection. “You want me.” She spoke in a low, husky voice. God, she needed this man so much she was groveling.
“Maybe, but I’m not going to have you.” He breathed out a sigh and raked his fingers through the slightly longer strands of dark hair on top of his head.
“Afraid you can’t handle me?” She met his gaze with a challenging glare.
He stared right back. His expression guarded and unreadable at first. She caught the almost imperceptible lift of one corner of his mouth. “Nah, I’m afraid you can’t handle me.”
Vi barked out a husky laugh. She rubbed against him, and he groaned. “We should face our fears together.”
He let go of the hand he’d been gripping and pushed her away gently, holding her at arm’s length with both hands on her waist. “Please, just leave. The boys are home.”
“They’re dead to the world.”
She arched her back and purred, pressing her chest against his. His gaze once again slid to her tits. She laughed and wriggled from his grasp, dancing out of reach. Before he realized what she was doing, she grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it at him.
“Vi.” His voice was a growl, like a feral animal slowly losing control. He advanced toward her, and she once again evaded him. His gaze kept returning to her breasts. She had him where she wanted him.
“You like what you see?” she asked.
“What straight man wouldn’t?”
“Then do something about it. You know you want to.”
If ever a man looked torn, this one did. He took a step toward her, then another, and another. She reached back to release the clasp on her bra and halted, wanting him to work for it.
His gaze swept up and down her body, lingering on the colorful garden of flowers gracing her entire chest. “Are your nipples surrounded by flower petals?” His voice was raspy, and he licked his lips, not raising his head from the objects of his attention.
“Could be, why don’t you find out?”
“Dad?”
They froze at the sound of Andy’s voice coming from the kitchen.
“Get dressed and get out of here. Now,” Matt demanded.
Vi scrambled to find her T-shirt, while Matt hurried to the kitchen doorway to block his son’s view. She snatched her T-shirt off the floor and yanked it over her head. Grabbing her purse, she walked stiffly from the room, head held high. She didn’t bother to say goodbye or collect her babysitting money. She wrenched open the door and ran to her car.
Vi sat behind the wheel for several minutes, breathing hard as sweat beaded on her forehead and her heart slammed against her rib cage. A minor internal earthquake shook her entire body. She pressed her forehead against the hard steering wheel and breathed in the cold winter air. She rarely got emotional about men, but she was emotional about Matt’s rebuff. It wasn’t even a real rejection. They’d have done the dirty if his son hadn’t interrupted. Then why did it sting like rejection? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been pushed away before, more times than she could count.
Pulling herself together, she backed out of Matt’s driveway and tore down the rain-slickened street.
Tears obstructed her vision and burned hot in her eyes, leaving a salty trail of sadness down her cheeks.
She never cried, and she didn’t have a clue why she was crying now.
* * * *
Matt smiled nervously down at his son and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the front door slam. He’d dodged that bullet. Another minute or two, and he’d have had Vi naked, her legs spread wide, and he’d be pounding into her with reckless abandon like the horny, deprived man he was.
“Dad? Did you hear me?” Andy studied him with the eyes of much older person, but then he’d always been like that. His son, the old soul. The serious one, too much like his dad.
“What’s up, buddy?”
“I need a glass of milk. Did Vi just leave?”
“Uh, yeah, I got home a few minutes ago.” Matt opened the fridge, got the milk, and poured two glasses. He put one on the counter and took a sip of the other.
“Oh.” Andy crawled onto the barstool. “Do you like her?”
Matt shrugged. “She’s okay. Do you like her?”
“She’s okay. Just a little weird.” His oldest son swallowed a gulp of milk. “Why don’t we recycle?”
“Huh?” Matt frowned and leaned against counter.
“Vi says we should be virally responsible and recycle.”
“Oh, yeah, I—uh—suppose that’s a good idea.” They had a recycle bin in the garage, and he put the bigger things in it like cardboard. He wasn’t good at insisting the boys separate out every little thing.
“Are you mad at her?”
“Vi?” Matt asked.
“Yeah.”
“A little.”
“Are you mad at us?”
Matt’s mouth quirked into an almost smile. “A little.”
Andy stared at his milk for a long time as if he could see the future in it or something equally profound. His breath hitched. He sniffled and rubbed his eyes, still contemplating whatever secrets were hidden within the milk. Matt studied him closely. His oldest was usually pretty stoic.
“What’s up, little man?” He put a comforting hand on his son’s hunched shoulders.
“Do you miss her?”
Matt blinked several times, trying to follow the winding path this conversation had taken. “Vi?”
Andy shook his head. “I want Mommy to come back.”
Matt sighed. The subject of the boy’s mother came up every once in a while, not as often as before, but being abandoned by your mother had to leave deep scars. Matt wouldn’t know. He could only imagine how it would feel. Matt’s own mother was the most nurturing, loving woman he’d ever met. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he’d stupidly married a woman who was her direct opposite.
He’d married because Brianna told him she was pregnant, but the baby never came. Brianna’s talents had included shopping, spending his money, and looking pretty. He’d been an absolute idiot and fallen for her luscious body, beautiful face, and hot sex. She’d hated being pregnant and had turned into a nasty bitch during both pregnancies, after which she got her tubes tied without even discussing it with him.
No one in his family liked Brie, but they tolerated her. He hadn’t realized the depth of their dislike until she’d deserted them, and he’d divorced the woman. Matt’s brother and two sisters gave him an earful about his poor choice. After much coercion, he’d promised to let them vet the next woman he became serious about.
> But there hadn’t been any other woman since Brie. He’d been so disillusioned by her and his ability to properly judge a woman’s character, he’d avoided even an occasional one-night stand on road trips.
His mother stepped in and took care of him and the boys, and he’d gladly let her, even though his mom’s presence severely stifled his love life. It gave her purpose. After his dad died in a hit-and-run four years ago, she’d been at a complete loss as to what to do with her life. The boys filled that void.
His mom did miss her friends in Montreal. She’d been visiting them for the past week and was now stranded by a snowstorm. Hopefully, she’d be able to fly out tomorrow.
He’d tried the nanny route with Amelia, but that hadn’t lasted long once Brick had pulled his head out of his ass and declared his undying love. Poor sap. Matt didn’t wish love on anyone. From his way of thinking, love hurt like hell, and he’d be extra careful next time.
Then along came Vi. They’d immediately grated on each other’s nerves while fighting this insane attraction to each other. She couldn’t be more wrong for him. He’d never liked tattoos, at least not to the extent she had them. Yet he couldn’t shake the carnal desire to see those tattoos, every single damn one of them, taste them, run his tongue up one side and down the other of her curvy body. Tonight he’d seen the garden of flowers decorating her chest, and her body garden had only whetted his appetite for more.
Vi rode a bike wherever she could, weather permitting, wanting to lessen her carbon footprint, whatever the hell that meant. He’d caught glimpses of the muscles in her legs and arms. The woman was in shape—good shape. Not bodybuilder shape, but more functional, like an athlete or maybe a dancer. He did recall Amelia mentioning that Vi was majoring in something like dance or art. It figured she’d pick something impractical. She’d probably never make a living at it.
“Do you miss Mom?” Andy’s voice startled him and brought him back to reality with a guilty start. He’d been focusing on his own selfish desires when his son needed him.
“Uh, no, not like you guys do.”
“Oh.” Andy scratched his nose. “My birthday is in two weeks. Do you think she’ll come to see me?”
Matt leaned over and hugged his son’s shoulders. “I don’t know, buddy. I don’t know.”
He wasn’t going to lie to the boys. In fact, even if Brie contacted him to say she was coming for a visit, he wouldn’t tell them. They’d been disappointed too many times. Matt wasn’t even sure where Brie was and with what guy. The pro baseball player she’d dumped him for was long gone, and she was on guy number three or four by now. Last he’d heard, she’d shacked up with some wealthy nightclub owner.
Matt didn’t care what she was doing. He was torn between wanting his boys to have their mother in their lives, and being glad she wasn’t because of the drama she so readily embraced and thrived on.
“Are you ever going to get married again?”
Matt laughed. “If I find the right woman, and you guys like her.”
“Are you going to marry Vi?” Andy’s face was unreadable, leaving Matt to wonder if his son considered that a good or bad thing.
“Well, Andy, Vi is probably not the right woman for me or for this family.”
“Why not? Because she’s weird?”
Matt wanted to say, look at her, but he’d taught his boys not to judge a book by its cover, even if he did. And she was weird, at least, by his definition.
“Why don’t I tuck you back in? If it’s nice tomorrow, we’ll take the boat out on Puget Sound.”
“Okay.” Andy leaped to his feet and ran from the room. Matt followed at a slower pace, his mind still riddled with thoughts of Vi and her lacy pink bra, her nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric. He groaned as the blood rushed to his dick.
God, maybe he did need to have a meaningless fling, and maybe Vi wouldn’t be a bad choice. She’d be hot as fuck in bed. A guy didn’t need to like someone to have satisfying sex with her.
Chapter 3—Playmaker
Vi pulled into the parking lot and barely glanced at the tasteful sign proclaiming “Dancing Girls, Inc.” Below in smaller letters on the marquee was “Featuring the Inked Women of Seattle.”
Vi hustled to the back door, hugging her trench coat tightly to her in the pelting rain. Jose, the back-door bodyguard, saw her coming and held the door open.
Jose grinned, and she smiled back. Most of the bouncers at Dancing Girls, Inc., were gay, as were the owners. Benjamin, the main owner, liked it that way. He didn’t have to worry about the staff messing with the dancers. He ran a clean establishment with a zero-tolerance policy for drugs and prostitution. His girls might get naked, but they entertained and danced, showcasing their talents in an artistic and entertaining manner.
A former professional dancer himself, Benjamin billed his club as Vegas-style entertainment rather than mere stripping. His girls were showgirls, not strippers. In addition to his regular female lineup on weekends, he had his weekly and quite popular Monday Males stripper night, along with his Talented Tuesday cross-dresser night. As an exotic dancer, you wanted to work for Benjamin. The place was always packed, the tips good, and his bouncers made sure the men kept their hands to themselves. Private parties were not offered, nor were lap dances. The club was classy, exclusive, and discreet. Some of the wealthiest men and women in Seattle were frequent visitors. Vi had worked here for two years, moving up to one of their starring roles in their popular “Inked Women” show with the stage name of Jazz.
Running a little late, Vi hurried down the hall and into the dressing room shared with several other women. She tossed her coat in her locker, sat down at the bank of mirrors, and proceeded to get ready for the night’s performance.
Next to her, Stephanie, aka Raven, sniffled and stared at her hands, not moving. She looked like hell. The girl cried a lot. Most of the dancers had become immune to it and ignored her. A person could only take so much drama, but Vi found Steph hard to ignore. Something about this tragically sad girl tugged at her heartstrings in a place she normally reserved for homeless cats and endangered species.
“Steph, you okay?”
Stephanie wiped her face and blew her nose. “I’m fine.”
She wasn’t fine, but Vi learned a long time ago not to butt into other people’s business. Yet every time she saw the frightened look in Steph’s eyes, she fought the urge to push her way inside. Steph’s boyfriend showed up every night after the performances. No one liked him, and he’d been banned from the club a month ago for being an asshole. More than once, Vi noticed him sitting in their beat-up truck as he counted Steph’s tips for the night while Steph stared out the window, looking like a caged canary.
Steph did a schoolgirl routine popular with the patrons prior to the headliner Inked show. She had an incredible body and big boobs that made the guys overlook her miserable expression and mechanical movements. Her dancing wasn’t up to par with the other girls, but Vi suspected Benjamin had a soft spot for the downtrodden figure and cut her a lot of slack.
“You’re not fine,” Vi said, surprised at herself for pushing the point.
Steph met her gaze and sniffled, wiping her eyes. She studied her for so long, Vi squirmed in her chair.
“Do you like doing this?” Steph finally said.
“This? Dancing for money? Yeah, it’s fun, and the pay is good. Benjamin treats us well.”
“I hate it,” Steph ground out with more vehemence than Vi had ever heard from her. The poor thing looked away and fiddled with the sash on her worn bathrobe.
“Then why do you do it?”
“We need the money.”
Vi bristled. “There are other ways to earn money.”
“I know, but not this kind of money. This is my best option.”
“If you’re uncomfortable stripping, this is not your best option.”
Steph shrugged. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything. Gino has a lead on a job, and then I can quit.” She soun
ded so hopeful, Vi’s heart squeezed. That lazy-assed jerk didn’t appear to have any chance of holding down a job, not with his surly attitude and nonexistent work ethic.
“Steph, he doesn’t hurt you, does he?” Vi spoke before she thought, yet she wanted to know.
Steph ducked her head and refused to look up.
“Because if he does, and you’re afraid of him, there are places you could go.”
Steph shook her head, keeping her face shrouded by a curtain of blond hair. “He’s not like that. He’s really very sweet.”
Vi bit back a sarcastic retort. That’s what all battered women said. She tore the edge off a program and scrawled her number on it. “If you ever need anything, call me. Anytime. Day or night.”
Steph’s stricken gaze flickered from Vi to the piece of paper. She snatched it out of Vi’s hand and shoved it in her purse. “Thanks.” She glanced around guiltily as if expecting her horrid boyfriend to be lurking in the shadows. He most likely would be if he could get away with it.
“You’re welcome. Now, we’d better get ready. The show must go on.” She gave Steph a little nudge and smiled. Steph managed a sad smile back.
* * * *
Saturday night and no game. Matt’s mom, Irene, was home now, and he didn’t have an excuse to stay in, but he turned down his teammates and watched Spider-Man for the zillionth time with the boys. Andy preferred dinosaurs, but Joey was Spider-Man all the way.
Joey fell asleep halfway through, while Andy yawned his way to the end. Matt carried Joey upstairs with Andy on his heels. Once his boys were firmly tucked in bed, Matt wandered around his big house, not tired enough to sleep and frustrated for reasons he couldn’t explain.
His mom came into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk. She gave him one of those looks only his mom could give. She saw too much, and sometimes her scarily accurate mother’s intuition was annoying as hell.
“Why didn’t you go out tonight?” she said.
“Not in the mood.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter, popping the top and taking a long pull.
Penalty Play (Seattle Sockeyes Hockey) Page 3