Block and Tackle

by Elise Faber

  “All these people here…” he said, and then she felt the tiniest tug on one of the curls that fell against her back. “… and the only one I want to talk to is you.”

  He was going to kill her. As it was, she was ready to pool at his feet. Charlie wondered how much damage she’d do to her career if she begged off, saying she was sick.

  The cheer from the crowd soared again, and the man in front of her turned back, laughing. Charlie swallowed a gasp.

  “He’s something else, isn’t he?” Kurt asked, holding a fresh cocktail in hand and nodding at Darius. Charlie struggled to find her voice just as Kurt’s eyes landed on Hutch. “Oh! Hutch, man, I didn’t realize you’d arrived.”

  Beaming, Kurt extended his hand, and Hutch took it and shook. “Just got here.” Hutch swept out a hand at the space surrounding them. “This is… this is just incredible, Kurt. How can I thank you?”

  Pride overtook Kurt’s smile, and he put a hand on Charlie’s elbow. Could he feel how she was shaking? “Hutch, this is Charlie Woodruff. She gets all the credit,” he said, glancing innocently between the two of them.

  Hutch seized the opportunity to reach forward, extending his hand. Charlie took it. What else could she do? It felt warm and broad and inviting. Her own hand disappeared in his grasp as he shook hers, and he held on for just a second longer than convention allowed. When he let go, she felt it keenly, though she tried not to show it.

  “She just started a few weeks ago, and she’s done a terrific job,” Kurt was saying, seemingly unaware that she and Hutch hadn’t broken eye contact even to blink. “Charlie’s in the office before I arrive in the morning, and she’s still there when I leave. You’d think she didn’t have a life.”

  Kurt’s chuckle fell between them, landing awkwardly. Hutch raised an eyebrow at her.

  “That can’t be good,” Hutch said, shaking his head in pretend sympathy.

  “Well, I really like my job.” She smiled brightly and hoped at least Kurt would think it genuine.

  Hutch scanned the space. “You’re obviously very good at it. This is a great party,” he said, and this time he didn’t mock. Charlie heard truth in every word. “I’m honored. Thank you so much.”

  The color rose to her cheeks at his praise. Of course, she’d wanted to do a good job to prove herself to Kurt and the rest of her colleagues at Prestige, but after she’d met Hutch, she desperately wanted for him to be happy with the party. She’d tried not to admit it to herself, but now Charlie couldn’t deny that she’d asked herself a thousand times that afternoon if every detail was good enough for Hutch Barlow. Not because he was Prestige’s client, but because he was Hutch.

  The song ended, and the band downshifted to Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Games,” and she saw a flash of mischief pass over his eyes.

  “Kurt, I think Ms. Woodruff deserves a proper thank you,” he said, this time keeping his gaze trained on her boss. “Would you mind if I steal her away for a dance? I think it’s time she enjoyed this party she worked so hard to engineer.”

  Charlie watched a qualm pass over Kurt’s face, and he looked at her. Other than blushing furiously, which she hoped they couldn’t see in the dim lighting, Charlie kept her face schooled in a polite smile.

  “I guess that’s up to Charlie,” he said, clearly not wanting to cross any lines of propriety, and Charlie immediately felt even greater respect for Kurt. Had this been any other client — any other party — she would not want to feel as though she were being pimped out, as though she had no choice but to accept. Kurt’s hesitation gave her permission to say no.

  And so she could say yes.

  “Okay,” she said with a shrug.

  Hutch grabbed her by the hand and pulled her toward the dance floor. “I’ll catch up with you later, Kurt,” he called over his shoulder, the casual tone of his voice belying the urgency she felt in the clasp of his hand, the speed with which they were now moving to the dance floor.

  He steered them deep into the throng of dancers until they were hidden, camouflaged among other swaying pairs.

  And then she was in his arms again — where she’d wanted to be for the last three days. It lasted just a moment, but for just a moment they weren’t dancing but embracing. His warmth tight around her… her cheek pressed to the solid welcome of his chest… the two of them crushed together in the most tender of stolen seconds…

  In spite of her resolve, Charlie felt a lump rise in her throat because the circle of his arms was a place she wanted to return to again and again. Sadness leached through her. But then Hutch brought his lips near her ear.

  “Hi, baby,” he whispered, and she found herself smiling.

  Charlie pulled back, clasping her arms around his neck as his hands settled at her waist. Now they looked like they were dancing, and she let her eyes meet his.

  “Hi.”

  “Is it crazy to tell you that I’ve missed you?”

  It was crazy. They’d met only Tuesday. They’d spent a handful of intense hours together. Yet she hadn’t stopped thinking of him since. With her hands locked behind his neck, she could feel the silk of his hair. The backs of her fingers memorized the touch.

  “Maybe, but if I’m being honest, I missed you, too,” she admitted. The tip of his right middle finger was drawing slow, invisible circles against her side. The feeling was too intimate to tickle. It seared.

  He tilted his head and gave her a mild look of censure. “You told me to leave you alone, so I left you alone.”

  She flicked her eyes between their two bodies. “What do you call this?”

  His mouth twitched. “You invited me to this party. Well, not you, but someone at Prestige whose job you stole,” he teased.

  “Hey, I didn’t steal anyone’s job,” she defended, not liking the assumption. “The person I replaced leveled up. She now runs PR for Prestige’s Seattle office.”

  His fingers may have tightened against her waist. “Is that what you’re going to do? Groom yourself for the bigger and better and fly the coop?”

  She felt her brows shoot up. “Leave San Francisco? No way.” She felt so adamant about that her spine straightened. “I love San Fran.”

  The two delicious dimples she’d coveted from the moment she first saw him smile came out to wink at her.

  “So you’re in love with your job and in love with your city, but you have no faith in love. How ironic?”

  Charlie reared back. “What? I never said that.”

  Hutch shook his head. “You didn’t need to.” A smile sat on his sumptuous lips, but it didn’t meet his eyes.

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “I’m going to assume you aren’t talking about us because a few hours together has nothing to do with love,” Charlie said. She was glad she sounded a lot more certain than she felt. Her heartbeat ratcheted up at the thought. Why was it so easy to imagine falling in love with him?

  As they moved to the music, Hutch tugged at her hips until her front pressed against his. Love might have been in question, but lust certainly wasn’t.

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  Charlie blinked. Was she too old to say no? Even if she was, she couldn’t pretend. She couldn’t fake that she’d been in love with any of her college boyfriends.

  “No,” she admitted.

  She watched his smile reach his eyes now. Hutch looked completely happy. Thoroughly pleased and content, as though everything in the world was going his way.

  Charlie felt a little envious.

  “You love your city, and you love your job. But before moving here, you didn’t know that both would work out, right?”

  Charlie frowned. “What’s your point?”

  “My point is that you wanted both those things, but before you could let yourself have them, you had to have some faith that everything would be okay.”

  He pulled her closer, his hands splaying against her back, claiming her. “Have some faith. If you give us a chance, everything will be okay,” he whispered, swaying with her to th
e intoxicating lyrics.

  His words were reassuring, promising, even. But she couldn’t let herself be drawn in by them.

  “And if I take a chance on you, and Prestige finds out, and I lose my job, what then?” she asked, knowing he didn’t have an answer for this and still hoping, foolishly, he did.

  Hutch shrugged, but his smile held. “Then you’ll just find another job.”

  Charlie froze.

  Then she sighed and dropped her hands from around his neck. “That’s not the right answer.”

  Charlie broke free of his arms and before he could reach for her again, she turned and left the dance floor, making her way toward the restrooms. Again, she moved with purpose, not racing in a way that would attract attention, but she didn’t take her time. At first, she didn’t think he’d followed her. Not wanting to encounter any of the ladies from the office, Charlie chose the UNISEX bathroom between the men’s and the women’s.

  But just as she’d nearly pushed the door closed, it swung open from her grip, and Hutch crowded the entrance.

  “What the hell—”

  “Charlie, wait—”

  He thrust his way in and locked the door behind him as she yanked at his arm.

  “What are you doing? Someone had to see that.”

  “No one saw that.” His eyes met hers with insistence and urgency. “Why did you walk away from me?”

  Her mouth fell open in shock. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. I’ve waited for days to see you. We need to talk.” He raised his hands to reach for her before raking them through his hair instead. Some of his locks fell from the neatly groomed ponytail. “I know it makes me sound crazy because we’ve only just met, but I can’t walk away from you. It feels wrong.”

  “But me losing my job? That feels right?” she asked, scowling, her hands on her hips.

  “No, Charlie.” His flawless forehead creased in a frown as he appeared to struggle for control. “I’m sorry. I just meant that you’re really good at your job, and you could work anywhere—”

  “I don’t want to work anywhere. I want to work here.”

  “But you want me too. I know you do,” he said, reaching for her, but Charlie pulled away, scrambling to the safety of the opposite wall. Only a couple of feet separated them in the tiny bathroom, but Charlie needed all the space she could get. Her anger helped, but even angry, she had a hard time resisting him. If he touched her, she’d fold.

  “If you lost your job, I’d help you get a new one, and I’d take care of you while you did.”

  “I wouldn’t want that,” she said, holding up her hands in refusal. “Besides, we haven’t even had a real date, Hutch. You could decide next week that this isn’t as much fun as you’d thought it would be. That this was just a crazy crush, and I would have jeopardized everything for you.”

  He was shaking his head before she even finished. “I don’t know where this will go. I don’t know where we’ll be in six months or a year, but I have to trust how I feel right now, and I can promise you that no matter what happens, I wouldn’t leave you in a bad position.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “You’re putting me in a bad position right now,” Charlie said, glaring. “Do you realize if anyone finds out that we’re in here together, I’m finished?”

  “It’s a party,” he said, now glaring too. His green eyes flashed with barely contained emotion. “No one’s going to notice because half the people out there will be pairing off on their own.”

  Charlie wanted to scream in frustration. “You just don’t get it. You and your football buddies can do whatever you want. You’re never held accountable for anything,” she seethed. “You have nothing to lose here, but if I give in, I risk everything.”

  “A heart’s not nothing.”

  The words came at her like a shockwave. When they hit, Charlie half expected the tile wall behind her to crack. She stared at him, stunned, for what seemed like an age. Her breath returned before her speech, so she worked her mouth mutely for a moment.

  “Wh-what did you say?” she whispered, lost now in the naked look he gave her. Desire. Desperation. Heartache. Hope. All there in his eyes.

  “You heard me.” And before she could speak again, he’d crossed the room and caged her with his body. His hands claimed her hands, and he brought them up over her head. Hutch panted against her lips, his body shaking with strain. “Don’t pretend what I feel is nothing.”

  His lips hovered so close to hers, she could feel their heat. She waited for the kiss that was sure to come, wanting it, welcoming it with her whole being. But with a growl of frustration, Hutch sunk his nose into her hair instead, his lips brushing her ear.

  “Don’t pretend what you feel is nothing,” he whispered, sending rivers of sensation coursing down her body.

  The tip of his nose traced the shell of her ear and followed the line of her neck down to her shoulder. Charlie shivered helplessly.

  “Don’t pretend we wouldn’t be great together.”

  Teeth found her earlobe, and the sound of his breath, the heat of his mouth, the gentle bite of his claim had her womb clenching already. Charlie drew in a shaky breath.

  “The sex… the sex would be great,” she admitted, breathless.

  His teeth released her flesh, and she felt him shake his head against her neck. “I don’t mean just sex,” he whispered. “Yes, the sex will be incredible, absolutely stellar, Charlie, but I mean us.”

  Above their heads, his hands smoothed against hers until their fingers interlocked, and Charlie found herself holding on for dear life.

  “I mean pizza in front of the TV with you in my lap… chasing you halfway across the city on Sunday mornings… doing shots together at Ireland’s 32 on Geary and stumbling home, laughing at all the people judging us… concerts at The Fillmore…” He brought his eyes to hers, and the joy in them pierced her clean through. “I’ve never wanted to do so many things with someone else, Charlie. Not until now. Not until you.”

  “Hutch…” she pleaded. She could picture everything he described, and it was like he was offering her a box full of wishes. Charlie wanted every one. Every moment he’d dreamed up seemed to belong to her. To them.

  “Kiss me, Charlie.” His eyes beseeched her. “I pushed my way in here. I pushed you against the wall, but I won’t take your kiss until you give it to me. Kiss me, please, before I go mad.”

  Charlie had run out of nos. She’d hated saying them anyway. She closed the distance between their mouths and claimed his lips with her own. His gratified grunt was her reward. Hutch dropped their hands and wrapped his arms around her, tugging her up so that their kiss could deepen. And she took advantage, gliding her tongue into his mouth and seeking out the heat of his.

  His taste, his scent were now treasures she recognized, and as she drank them in, that recognition sang in her mouth, her chest, her belly. Her arms slipped beneath the warmth of his jacket and wrapped around his broad back, urging him closer. But she couldn’t get close enough. Already, her feet had lost the floor, and she ached to simply lift her legs and snake them around his hips.

  Hitched up against him, she felt the unmistakable swell of his arousal against her belly, and all it would take would be a shift of her dress and a tilt of her pelvis, and it would be pressed against the part of her that demanded nothing less.

  Hutch braced her against him with one arm, and when the other hand sailed up and squeezed her breast through the fabric of her dress, Charlie cried his name, a plea and a prayer all in one.

  The sound of it did something to him because in the next instant, Hutch broke the seal of their kiss and took the flesh of her bottom lip between his teeth, growling.

  “Charlie… we have to stop,” he panted. “I’m about to fuck you against this wall, and I don’t want it to be that way… not the first time.”

  Lightheaded with lust, and disappointed more than she wanted to admit, Charlie nodded. He lowered her until her toes touched the f
loor again, plying her mouth with gentle kisses as they caught their breath.

  “When can you leave?” he asked.

  She met his eyes and saw the hunger and the patience, and she smiled at both. “Not for a few hours,” she said, hearing the regret in her words and hoping he did too.

  “Damn,” he muttered. And then, “Can I take you home with me?”

  Charlie bit her lip and nodded.

  His smile could break down walls.

  “You’ll need to leave first,” she said, unable to fight her smile. “We can’t leave together.”

  His brow creased. “How were you getting home?”

  “BART.”

  Hutch shook his head. “Not anymore.” He ran his thumb along the curve of her lip, seemingly lost in thought before meeting her eyes again. “When you leave, walk out onto Embarcadero, turn right, and head toward the Alcatraz ferries at the next pier. There’s a cafe out front. I’ll pick you up there.”

  “A man with a plan,” she teased before kissing the thumb at her lip.

  His eyes blazed. “Oh, there’s a plan,” he promised. “That is, if I don’t explode before the party’s over.”

  A giggle escaped her.

  Hutch tsked. “You shouldn’t laugh, babe,” he said, but his dimples belied his words. “If I have to watch you dance again with your gay friend who seems to have missed his calling, I’m going to be walking funny out the door.”

  This time, laughter overtook her, and he kissed her until she quieted. He kissed her until the only sounds were their labored breaths and the gentle moans they passed back and forth.

  Charlie pushed him back and came up for air. “We’d better get back out there.”

  Hutch eyed her with a rueful grin. “Yeah, I think Kurt wants to do a toast or some nonsense.”

  “Oh, shit. You’re right,” Charlie said, reaching up to smooth his hair. In their frenzied kissing, her eager fingers had made a mess of his neat ponytail. “We need to get you sorted out.”

  “You too.” He chuckled, tucking a wayward curl of hers back into place.

  “Come here.” Charlie pulled him in front of the vanity, and they faced their reflections.