The Client: Short And Steamy

by Parker, M. S.

  He waved a hand and swallowed the bite he'd already taken. “Don't worry about it. I got what you meant. Most athletes in non-traditional sports don't go to college so they can participate in their sport as long as possible while they're still in their prime.”

  I gave a sigh of relief. That was exactly what I'd meant. “What'd you go for?”

  He grinned at me. “Childhood education.”

  My eyebrows went up. “You want to be an elementary school teacher?”

  Now there was a mental image. Tyrell towering over a bunch of little kids while he taught them their ABC's. Despite how ruthless I'd seen him be in the ring, I could picture him with children, helping them with math problems, making sure they all got their coats and boots on before recess. Somehow, it fit.

  “I'm taking online Master's classes so when I'm done fighting, I'll just have to take the licensing tests.”

  My next bite of pizza halted mid-bite. “So you're already thinking toward retirement?”

  I had to admit, it surprised me. Even I knew that Tyrell was something special in the ring. Pretty much everything I'd read in the past week said that he was on track to be even better than Dorian, and that was saying something. Barring serious injury, Tyrell had the opportunity to hold onto a championship title for at least half a dozen years. Even if he decided he wanted to go out on top, he could still be at it for a while.

  Tyrell shrugged. “I enjoy fighting, and I'm good at it, but I don't live and breathe it, not like some other guys do. I want the title, but I'm not going to decide whether or not I want to keep it until I have it. I want more from life than that.”

  “Like teaching?”

  “Teaching,” he agreed. “And a family. Wife. Kids.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Asking a bit much for a first date, don't you think?”

  He grinned that wide, easy smile of his, the one that I knew melted the hearts of women everywhere. “Just laying my cards on the table.”

  There'd been a spark between us from the moment we met, and I was definitely attracted to him. I also wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of settling down, of marriage and a family. Having lost mine so young, I liked the idea of having a family of my own.

  Hearing Tyrell say it like that didn't give me goosebumps, didn't make me want those things, but it didn't make me want to run away either. In fact, I didn't feel much of anything one way or the other. No jealousy at the thought of another woman having a family with Tyrell. No desire to have one myself.

  I wasn't ready. No matter how much I liked Tyrell, no matter how attracted I was to him, I wasn't ready for a relationship.

  He leaned forward and put his hand on mine. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, my smile feeling tight on my face. “I'm okay.”

  “But...?” He removed his hand and gave me a searching look. “Something changed, and I don't know what I did.”

  “You didn't do anything,” I said, shaking my head. “I really like being here with you. You're a great guy.”

  “I'm hearing a 'but' in there somewhere.”

  Deep breath in. “Two weeks ago, I was engaged.”

  Tyrell's eyes darted toward my left hand, then back up to my face.

  “Through a set of bizarre circumstances, I ended up getting home early and finding my fiancé involved in a threesome with a pair of swingers.” There, I’d damned said it.

  “Shit,” he breathed, his eyes wide.

  “Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction,” I said dryly. “I knew things hadn't been going well lately, but I'd thought we'd just hit a rough patch.” I stabbed an ice cube with my straw.

  “I'm sorry,” Tyrell said.

  “I'm not.” I lifted a shoulder and stabbed at the ice cube again. “I'm just glad I found out now instead of after I married the bastard.” I looked up. “I'm not still in love with Gordon, but I don't think I'm ready for anything even close to serious.”

  “I understand,” he said, his tone sincere.

  I nodded, feeling more relief than anything else. I liked Tyrell. Liked flirting with him, talking to him. Hell, I even thought I might like sleeping with him. But I didn't want anything more than that. Not now, anyway.

  * * *

  I couldn't help but feel guilty as I opened my front door. Tyrell had been so sweet and understanding. He'd accepted what I said, then continued on with our meal. We'd kept talking and joking, sharing stories about our past, our families. A part of me almost wished I was ready to date again. I had a feeling that a relationship with Tyrell would be easy, simple.

  Completely unlike what I was feeling now.

  All night, I’d been telling myself that the only reason I felt mild attraction toward Tyrell was because I wasn't ready to date so soon after my break up with Gordon. Except a part of me knew that wasn't entirely the case.

  There was someone I was really attracted to, a man whose touch made my skin hum. Someone who I had a hard time not staring at whenever he was around. The man who'd been starring in my dreams almost every night.

  If he asked me out, I wasn't sure I would give the same excuse to him that I had to Tyrell. In fact, I was almost certain that I'd have been looking forward to a second date – or maybe morning-after breakfast.

  Just the thought of waking up next to him was enough to give me butterflies in my stomach, confirming my suspicions. I hadn't wanted to admit it, but while I'd enjoyed flirting with Tyrell, I hadn't gotten any of that same gut-clenching desire. Now that I thought about it, it'd been a while since I'd had that feeling at all. I could barely remember that fluttery feeling with Gordon. And I didn't even know if that was my imagination rather than memory.

  I sighed and headed for the bathroom, shedding my clothes on the way. The food and company had been excellent. I just wished there could've been more. Tyrell was a great guy, and he deserved someone great too.

  My thoughts didn't let up as I showered, or even after I climbed in bed. I attempted to read for a bit, but soon gave it up when I couldn't seem to make it past the same paragraph. I turned off the light and tried to sleep, but it was hours before I finally managed it.

  My phone woke me up sometime before noon, but I just stared at it until it went to voicemail, watching Dorian’s number fade to black. I didn't feel like talking to him on my day off, especially not after the thoughts I'd had last night. Just thinking about his voice made my entire body flush. I didn't know him very well, but I knew enough to know he wasn't the sort of man I wanted to get involved with, no matter how strong the attraction. Casual sex had never been my thing, and from what I'd heard around the gym, that was all Dorian did.

  Not that he was even interested in me like that. We sparred well together, but that didn't mean anything.

  Or maybe it did. I heard a couple of the guys talking just the other day, saying that Dorian had slept with his previous trainer. I'd gotten the impression that some of the men were wondering how long it'd be until he did the same with me.

  I sighed as I flopped over on my back and stared up at the ceiling. I knew I needed to check my voicemail and find out what Dorian wanted. We'd agreed to train five days a week, but also agreed that if we needed to change days around, we could do so. That was most likely why he'd called, and if he wanted to meet tomorrow, I needed to know it today.

  I reached over and grabbed my phone, hitting the voicemail icon. My eyes widened as I listened.

  He didn't want to change our schedule.

  He wanted me to come to lunch tomorrow with his father.

  Chapter Eight

  Dorian

  I was starting to think this was a giant mistake.

  Friday night, when I'd seen Sara out with Tyrell, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. I was usually pretty good at figuring people out, what they wanted, but I didn't get her. She wasn't like anyone I'd ever met before. The more time I spent with her, the more I wanted to know about her, know her.

  And that's what I decided to do.

  I needed to get her out of m
y head, which meant I needed to discover all I could about her so that I didn't find her so intriguing. Once she lost her mystery, I was sure I'd find her less attractive. Not that she wasn't pretty, but she wasn't really my type. Mystery was the only logical explanation for why she was constantly in my thoughts.

  So if I solved the mystery, then my life could go back to normal. I'd be able to focus better at work, go out and find someone to hook up with. I'd keep her around for training since I hadn't felt so on-point since I'd quit fighting. I wasn't about to lose that.

  “Will you quit pacing? You're driving me nuts.”

  I looked over to where my father was sitting in his favorite armchair. He'd come home from the hospital just a few days after his heart-attack, and the doctors said he was doing well. For me, that meant he should be resting and regaining his strength. To him, however, it meant sitting around in his living room bossing me and his housekeeper around.

  This was my childhood home, and like a lot of adults, coming back made me feel like time had rewound. I'd temporarily moved back in so Dad wouldn't be here alone, and while I loved my father, I was looking forward to getting back to my own place. To being an adult again. Aside from not having the privacy necessary to hook up with anyone here, having to listen to my dad talk about how much he wanted to meet the exotic young woman who saved his life didn't make it any easier to not think about her.

  I told myself that I'd given in and invited Sara over because I was tired of listening to Dad complain, and it would keep him occupied for a while. The fact that it'd give me a chance to get to know Sara outside the gym was just a pleasant side-benefit. I wasn't trying to find ways for us to spend more time together. Just a part of unraveling the mystery.

  “She said she was coming, right?” Dad asked.

  I nodded as I crossed to the front window to check the driveway again. Our house was outside the city limits so I'd sent a car for Sara. It also made it easier to get to the house since our driver had the entry code. A part of me wished now that I'd driven into the city to get her. We would've had the whole drive to talk without interruption.

  “This girl's got you in knots.”

  I didn't bother responding to his comment. I really hated how observant Dad was sometimes.

  “They're here,” I said as I saw the car round the bend. “Do you need any help to get to the dining room?” When he glared at me, I grinned. “Guess that's a no.”

  “That's a hell no.” He pushed himself to his feet. “And we're not eating in the dining room. It's too damn formal. I had Martha set things up on the back porch. Bring the girl out there.”

  His tone was brusque, but I knew my father well enough to know that he didn't mean anything by it. That's just how he was. He liked to sound gruff, but he was the kind of man who'd give the shirt off his back to someone in need.

  I headed for the front door, opening it just as Sara was coming up the steps. I let myself have a moment to appreciate how good she looked. Dress slacks that showed off how long her legs really were, and a nice shirt that managed to be modest and flattering at once. A part of me was a little disappointed that she hadn't worn something flirtier, something more like what she'd worn on her date.

  But this wasn't a date, I reminded myself. My dad had asked for it.

  “Sara, thank you for coming.” I kept my voice even, professional.

  “Thank you for having me.” She stepped past me and I caught a whiff of some sort of floral scent. She didn't wear it when we trained.

  “My father's been quite eager to meet you,” I said and gestured for her to follow. “It's all he's talked about since he came home, getting to meet the person who saved his life.”

  I was surprised to see a bit of a flush staining her cheeks.

  “That embarrasses you?” I asked. “It's not like it's false praise. The doctors all said that if you hadn't done what you did, he wouldn't have made it.”

  I paused at the French doors that led outside. While I'd first met her with the intention of thanking her for what she'd done, I just now realized that I hadn't thanked her at all. Not really.

  “It's been just my dad and me since I was five,” I said, surprising myself with the admission. Surprised again as her dark brown eyes grew soft. “And I'm not an emotional person, but I can't deny that when I heard he was in the hospital, it scared me. So, thank you, for doing what you did.”

  Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. A few strands of hair had escaped the twist that captured the rest of it, and I had the sudden impulse to pull the ebony lengths from its confines, let it spill down over her shoulders. I wondered what it would look like spread out on my pillow.

  I asked the question that had been on my mind all weekend. “Did you have a good time with Tyrell on Friday?”

  Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms. “How did you know I was out with Tyrell?”

  Shit. “I overheard some people talking about it at the gym.” It was only a partial lie. I'd been trying to justify my interest to myself, but I doubted any of my arguments would hold water with Sara.

  Fortunately, I didn't have to wait to see if she believed me or not.

  “Stop keeping her for yourself, Dorian,” my father called from outside.

  I opened the door and held it for Sara, giving her an exaggerated roll of my eyes. “Hold on, old man. We're coming.”

  Sara laughed softly as she walked over to my dad and held out her hand. “Mr. Forbes, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Miss Carr, the pleasure is mine.” He kissed the back of her hand and gave me a mischievous look over her shoulder. “And, please, call me Max. Mr. Forbes is my son.”

  I rolled my eyes. “She's too young for you, Dad.”

  “Says who?” He grinned.

  Sara looked from him to me and back again. “You two are quite the pair, aren't you?”

  I pulled out her chair before taking my usual seat across from my father. Martha had really outdone herself with lunch. There were cold cuts and homemade rolls, fruit, salad, cole slaw, and three different kinds of desserts.

  Home cooking was definitely one of the things I miss the most about going back home. Take-out was generally my lunch fare...and dinner.

  “Dorian tells me that you're from San Francisco,” Dad began as he reached for a few apple slices.

  “I am,” she said. She made herself a ham sandwich as she continued, “I moved there after my parents died.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that.”

  “Thank you.” She gave my dad a smile. “My uncle raised me after that.”

  “What brought you to New York then?”

  It seemed like I wouldn’t have to do anything except listen to get to know Sara if my father kept asking questions. When she finished with one, he brought up another. She answered easily enough, then fielded back her own questions. Though she directed everything to my father, I couldn't help but hope that her inquiries came from curiosity about me.

  We stayed on the porch well after we'd finished eating. The weather was perfect and the view gorgeous. As much as there were things I enjoyed about living in the city, there was definitely something to be said for the tranquility that came from getting away from it all. When my father's health started to decline and he stepped down from running the company, I was surprised when he decided to live out here all the time rather than splitting time between the house and the city brownstone. I hadn't seen the appeal then, but now I could.

  When I saw him starting to grow tired, I reluctantly cut into the conversation. As much as I wanted Sara to stay longer, I wouldn’t risk my father's health to do it. I meant what I said to her, about how I felt when I heard about my dad's heart attack. I wasn't ready to lose him.

  “You need to rest,” I said as I stood. He glared at me, but there wasn't any fire behind it. “Do I need to get Martha out here?”

  “That's just playing dirty,” he grumbled. He managed to get to his feet on his own, which was
good because I knew he wouldn't be happy if I had to help him.

  I picked up plates as he made his way to the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Sara doing the same.

  “I've got it,” I said. “You don't need to do that.” The glare she sent my way had me raising my eyebrows in surrender. “Follow me.”

  I led the way to the kitchen and set my dishes down on the counter. Sara was right behind me and did the same. Out in the hallway, I heard my father arguing with Martha about whether or not he needed to take a nap, but the sound was strangely distant.

  “I suppose I should get going,” Sara said, but she made no move to go.

  My stomach twisted. I didn't want her to leave. I hadn't really gotten any alone time with her, and while I now knew a bit more about her history, I didn't know the things I wanted to know. What she liked. What she loved.

  If she wanted to see Tyrell again.

  “Do you have a date tonight?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  She shook her head, her eyes meeting mine again. “I don't think Tyrell and I are a very good match.”

  I resisted the urge to tell her that I agreed. Instead, I glanced at the clock. “Well, if you don't have plans for tonight, do you want to go into the gym and spar a bit? A couple of the guys are at matches, so it closed early. It'll be empty so we won't have to worry about spectators.”

  She studied me for a moment, and I wondered if those dark eyes could see through me, see what I didn't want to admit to myself, let alone her. If she did see it, it didn't seem to bother her.

  “All right,” she said. “Let's go. But if you think I'm going to take it easy on you because you fed me, think again.”

  “I wouldn't have it any other way,” I said, trying not to stare at her ass as she turned to walk away.

  I really hoped I knew what I was doing because this seemed to be heading nowhere good.

  Chapter Nine