Double Team: A Menage Romance

by Sabrina Paige

  "Because you're going to go hang out with her at your ranch."

  "Because I don't have some kind of weird need to seduce her with blow-up dolls," I say. "And yeah, because I'm going to go hang out with her at my ranch. Alone.”

  “You mean with a million kids running around? At the ranch you just told her you donated because you were doing her a favor? The same ranch she just told you that you could stick up your ass?”

  "Yeah, the ranch that - oh, screw you, Aiden," I grumble. "We're professional football players. There are plenty of girls throwing themselves at us on a daily basis. We don't need to go after the same damn woman."

  I turn to storm out of the kitchen, every part of me on edge. Fuck this and fuck him. I don't need to compete with him when it comes to a woman. What I need to do is worry about negotiating a contract and staying out of trouble. Laying low is my priority. Chasing after the President's daughter is the opposite of laying low – and it's profoundly stupid. It's the last thing on earth I need to do if I take my career seriously. And I take my football career very seriously.

  "So that means you're definitely not interested in her, then?" Aiden calls after me.

  "Not talking about this anymore, Aiden."

  "That's what I thought," he says, laughing. "All right, then. May the best man win."

  I storm upstairs. There's no way on Earth that Aiden Jackson is the best man for a woman like Grace Sullivan.

  And you think you are?

  I try to shove the thought out of my head, even as I hit a session at the gym. But Aiden's words still linger, replaying over and over on a loop. “May the best man win.”

  This isn’t a competition. That girl is mine.

  "Do I need to search you?" the Secret Service agent asks the question, her expression cold.

  "Do you usually search people who have meetings with Ms. Sullivan?" I ask. I actually don't know the answer to that question. Maybe the agents do search everyone Grace Sullivan comes into contact with at the foundation. I feel a sudden pang of sympathy for her. That would be a hell of an awkward way to go through your life, with everyone around you being patted down before they even get close to you. But I guess she’d probably be used to it by now.

  The agent raises her eyebrows, the rest of her face unmoving. "She doesn't usually meet with people who have been involved in public incidents with her."

  Heavy emphasis on the words “public incidents”. As if I was going to forget what happened at the charity event – or in front of my house, although that really was Aiden's fault, not mine.

  I don't point out the fact that I don't exactly have an appointment with Grace.

  It's too late, because her secretary notices that for me. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ashby. I just don't have you in her appointment books. But I'd be happy to pencil you in for –"

  The office door swings open before the secretary finishes speaking and Grace Sullivan stands in the middle of the door. She's wearing a conservative suit – a plain black jacket and skirt with a white Oxford shirt – with her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. On anyone else, it would look businesslike – professional and unflattering, even. But the suit seems to be made for Grace Sullivan, cut to cling to her hourglass figure, the stark color of the suit somehow managing to set off the green in her eyes.

  When she sees me, those green eyes go wide for half a second and her lips fall open slightly. I think I hear her inhale sharply, but those are the only reactions of surprise she exhibits before her jaw clenches and a veil of disinterest falls over her face.

  "Noah Ashby." Her tone is frosty. "I'm surprised to see you here. I'm sure you have better things to do with your time than do me any favors by dropping by the foundation."

  Okay, so she definitely hasn't forgotten about what I said. I clear my throat, suddenly self-conscious in front of her secretary and the Secret Service agents, far too aware that I was a shithead, telling her I was doing her a favor by donating the ranch. I came across as a spoiled celebrity, one of those assholes who demand a dressing room with only blue M&Ms in the candy dish.

  "Wait. I know I don't have an appointment, and you probably have other things to do." Probably? Of course she has other things to do. She runs a foundation. "Shit. I don't mean ‘probably’. You definitely have other things to do. But I wanted to come here and apologize."

  Grace raises her eyebrows. Okay, she's definitely not having any of the apology.

  I clear my throat. Fuck, this is embarrassing. I can't remember the last time I apologized for something. "I know, you're probably wondering what exactly I’m apologizing for. Am I apologizing for the comment about doing you a favor? Or the whole blow-up doll incident? Or the ”

  Grace's face pales. "You know, outside of my office isn't really the place for –"

  Her assistant clears her throat. "Ms. Sullivan, if you'd like, I can pencil Mr. Ashby in for another time."

  "I didn't mean to come in here and talk about blow-up dolls."

  I think I hear the Secret Service agent chuckle, but Grace's face flushes pink. I can't tell if she's mad. Are her nostrils flaring?

  "Stop talking," she says, her voice tight.

  "Shit. None of that came out right. I'm really not normally an idiot, even though I seem to be when I'm around you." I exhale heavily. "You know what? Yes. Pencil me in for another time."

  "Excellent, Mr. Ashby. If I can just –"

  Grace's expression softens as she looks at me, and she puts her hand up, stopping the secretary. "Janice, could you hold my next appointment?"

  "Ms. Sullivan, you know how –"

  Grace gives her a look. "Just for a few minutes."

  "Absolutely, ma'am."

  I follow her into her office and start talking as soon as the office door closes behind me, oblivious to anything else. "Look, I'm man enough to apologize when I say something out of bounds.” I don't know why, but I'm driven by a need to have this girl not think I'm a total moron – or a narcissistic celebrity jackass – even though I seem to wind up acting like both when I'm around her. “And I don't know why I said I was doing you a favor by donating the ranch, because it's not true..."

  "Noah, I think you should know that –"

  “Grace.” I cut her off before she can continue because I know that if I don't spit my apology out right now, I'm going to be so distracted by the fact that she's standing here less than a foot away from me, looking up at me the way she's doing right now with her wide eyes and plump, perfectly kissable lips, and… Oh hell, what was I doing again? That's right. I was apologizing. "You're really doing me a favor, letting me donate the ranch. I need the good publicity."

  Shit. Why did I say that?

  I do need the good press, that's true. It's why my agent suggested I do something with a charity right now. But my ranch is my refuge during off-season. I can count on one hand the number of visitors I've had there. Even Aiden knows not to bug me when I go there to hide out. When I found out about the summer camp that Grace's foundation runs, I wanted to do it because it was a cool cause.

  Except now this girl thinks I'm an asshole who only cares about his public image.

  Grace blanches. "The good publicity. Right. You're up for contract renewal. Of course."

  "That's not what I meant, exactly. Fuck, I'm not saying what I mean here."

  "It's okay," she says. "Aiden already explained."

  "Explained what?" Aiden talked to her already?

  Grace's cheeks flush pink, giving her this glow that automatically makes me think of sex. Hell, everything about this girl makes me think about how much I want my hands on her.

  "I explained that you're in the middle of negotiating contracts." Aiden steps into view from where he's apparently been standing on the other side of the office.

  What the hell is he doing here?

  "So you explained that I'm donating the ranch to help my contract negotiations?" I have to ball my hands into fists at my side to keep from slugging Aiden. I swear, if he weren't my best friend, he'd
be dead right now. The best friend part of things is beginning to be questionable, too.

  "He didn't say that, exactly," Grace says, smiling at Aiden. When she looks at him, it sends a rush of possessiveness through me. "He explained that the ranch is really important to you and that it was a big deal for you to donate it for the summer."

  "Did you?” I ask, my voice flat. I don't like the fact that he and Grace have been in here talking, and I like it less that Aiden had time with her to explain my motives for anything.

  "Well, not really. I told her you're basically a hermit with no social skills, and that you don't let anyone near your ranch."

  I glare at Aiden, until Grace looks at me. When her eyes meet mine, I swear there's something between us, the same magnetic pull I felt that night at the charity event when I nearly pressed my lips to hers. "I'm not a hermit," I say lamely.

  A smile tugs at the edges of Grace's lips. "It's okay. I completely overreacted. The real truth is, you are doing me a huge favor by donating the ranch – and your time - and the foundation is grateful for it." Her face colors again. "I'm really grateful for it. Personally, I mean. If you are donating your time. I don't mean to assume that you're still interested in showing up at the camp – or that you were even interested in donating your time to begin with before my father put you on the spot."

  "I told her you may not have time, what with all of your other obligations," Aiden interrupts.

  "My other obligations?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  "Aiden explained how busy you are with training ”

  "I’m not." I glare at Aiden. "Although I appreciate Aiden looking out for my time commitments."

  Aiden grins. "No problem, man. Don't mention it. I told her I'd be happy to donate my time in your place."

  "That's shocking." If Aiden thinks for one second that I’m going to let him cock-block me and make a move on this girl at my own ranch, he doesn’t know me at all.

  Grace's brow furrows. "If there's a problem –"

  "There's no problem," I insist. "I actually don't have any other commitments that conflict with the summer camp. I'm happy to take a more personal, hands-on approach with the charity."

  I look meaningfully at Grace, whose eyes widen. She takes a corner of her lip between her teeth and in that moment, I know she's thinking about what happened between us. Aiden has no chance with her. I watch her swallow hard. "Um, yes. Right. Your contributions – both of your contributions – are extremely generous."

  "Well, both of us are really good at being hands-on," Aiden adds, winking.

  Then Grace looks at him and does the lip-biting thing again. The fact that she does it when she looks at Aiden makes me unreasonably annoyed. She moves to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, the gesture self-conscious, even though there's not a single hair out of place. "Um. Hands-on. Both of you. Exactly. So…" She clears her throat and takes a deep breath, her expression settling into one that's completely professional, her tone businesslike. "The kids would really respond to two famous athletes spending any time at all with them. It would be a great way of kicking off the inaugural camp session and I think it might encourage other athletes or celebrities to get involved, too."

  "So it's settled. Two weeks at the ranch," Aiden says.

  "Two weeks?" Grace asks. "Oh, no. I didn't expect that you would be there for the entire time. I figured you could show up and give them a motivational speech, or sign some autographs. Most celebrities donate just a couple of hours or so to charities like this."

  "Are you going to be there for the full two weeks?" Aiden asks.

  "I always go to the first camp of the summer," Grace says.

  "Then I'll be there. I'm highly motivated to provide a personal touch," Aiden says, grinning.

  That grin makes me want to punch him. He thinks I'm going to let him spend two weeks at my ranch alone with Grace? He's out of his damn mind. I clench my jaw as I speak. "Two weeks? No problem. I'll be there too."

  "Um. Okay. Well, I didn't expect –" She looks down at the ground before taking another breath and making eye contact with us again. "The fact that both of you are willing to donate your time for two entire weeks is… generous. Really generous."

  "It's for the children," Aiden says piously.

  Smarmy bastard. I could slap the shit out of him right now. "Charity is important to us," I say before I can stop myself, sounding almost as transparent as Aiden.

  "I see," she says. Her cheeks flush pink again. "Well. I don't want to doubt your generosity, but…" Her voice trails off and she takes a deep breath. "I don't want you coming to the camp because you have some kind of ulterior motive."

  "Ulterior motive?" Aiden's face is choirboy innocent.

  Grace's face reddens again. "Since, I mean…" She exhales heavily. "Both of you have said – or done - some things that aren't exactly… professional, and this camp would be a purely professional setting."

  The thought of what Aiden might have said to Grace that's less than professional makes me want to explode. "So we'd need to behave appropriately," I say for Aiden's benefit more than anyone else's.

  A look of relief washes over Grace's face. "Yes. Exactly. And I think we're all professionals here."

  "I think some of us are professionals," I agree.

  Part of me is wondering what the hell I'm doing here. A week ago, I was donating my ranch for the summer so a bunch of kids and camp counselors could run around and ride horses and make s'mores. That was as personal as it was going to get. Hell, giving up my summer getaway was charitable enough. Now, I'm standing here agreeing to two weeks of businesslike behavior with the hottest woman I've ever seen and the best friend who's determined to cock-block me.

  "Oh, I can definitely behave professionally," Aiden assents – though his words sound anything but.

  Grace looks doubtful. "It's a children's summer camp, so no, um –"

  "Nakedness?" Aiden asks.

  "Oh God," Grace breathes. I have the sudden image of her, underneath me and breathing the phrase in the exact same way. Fuck, I just agreed to two weeks of professional behavior when this woman can utter a single phrase and have me rock hard. "I'm sure we can all agree that the blow-up dolls and the um… nakedness… are not appropriate?"

  "I'm not sure Aiden is capable of keeping his clothes on for two weeks," I note.

  Grace blinks. "Yes. Um, you can't really take your clothes off –"

  "I'll agree to keep my shirt on, as long as Noah stops ripping your dress off."

  Grace's hand flies to her mouth. Is it my imagination that the breath she lets out might betray her sexual frustration? I can barely suppress the growl that rises in my throat. I'm definitely not making any promises when it comes to not tearing this girl's clothes right off her body.

  "There's no reason for anything unprofessional to happen," Grace says, her voice trembling. "We're adults. Professional adults. There's no need for anyone's clothing to come off, right?"

  She laughs nervously.

  That laugh. It's warm and awkward and makes her more likeable than she was before. Oh, hell. Getting her clothes off is absolutely the only thing I want.

  When I look up, Aiden grins at me. Screw professional behavior. May the best man win - and there's no fucking way that's going to be Aiden Jackson.

  14

  Grace

  "Um, yes. I just need a few minutes before the meeting, please?" My words are coming out rushed, like I've just downed four shots of espresso, and I can't seem to make them slow down so I sound like a halfway normal person. Is Janice looking at me weird? She's totally looking at me weird.

  "Are you okay, ma'am?" Janice asks, her brow furrowing. "You look a little flushed. I heard there's something going around. I can get you some Vitamin C if you'd like. Or maybe a cup of tea?"

  "Okay. I'm okay. I'm totally fine. I think it's allergies. It must be allergies. I just need a minute. Sixty seconds. A few minutes, maybe." I turn around and dart back into my office before she can say anything el
se, closing and locking the door behind me before collapsing back against it.

  “Oh my God.” I hear myself breathe the words aloud. They sound like they're coming out of someone else's mouth, throaty and hoarse.

  I stand there, my back against the door, my chest heaving. Every cell in my body seems like it's on high alert, every inch of me so turned on that I don't think it's possible for me to catch my breath. My arms are dotted with goose pimples, my nipples hard inside my bra.

  I don't even think about what I do next before I do it. I yank the sides of my skirt up over my hips, completely disregarding the nagging little voice inside my head that asks me what the hell I'm about to do right now in my office, when Janice and Secret Service agents are right outside and I'm already late for a meeting.

  I practically stumble as I walk to my desk, drunk with lust, my palm landing flat on a pile of papers that slips forward, sending pages scattering to the floor on the other side. Normally, I would care about the fact that I just sent what are probably important documents hurtling to the ground. Of course, normally I would have better control of myself. Normally, I wouldn't be so consumed with lust for two men – two men! – that I yank my panties down over my hips in the middle of my office.

  It's just that Aiden – lighthearted Aiden with his inappropriate humor and playful charm - showed up at my office offering to attend the summer camp, looking like he was daring me to object as his eyes drank in every inch of me. And Noah – brooding, gruff, intense Noah – stood so close to me that if he wanted, he could have pulled me against him and finished what he started that one night.

  And Heaven help me, that's exactly what I wanted him to do.

  My panties around my thighs, I reach between my legs, stifling the moan that threatens to escape my lips as my fingertips press against my clit. I imagine Aiden giving me that cocky, sure-of-himself grin as he looks up from between my legs, before his mouth returns to its work. I rub circles around my clit, my movements frantic not just because I'm in a totally inappropriate place to be touching myself but because I'm already nearly driven to the edge by how badly I want Aiden.