Love On My Mind

by Tracey Livesay

  He’d placed the cooler on the floor next to the coffee table when the bedroom door opened. Chelsea stood in the doorway, twisting the thin gold-­and-­garnet ring on her right hand, refusing to make eye contact. He couldn’t catch his breath, a sensation similar to the one he felt after an eight-­mile mountain trail run. She was so appealing in the sweatpants and T-­shirt that it required every ounce of patience he had to remain where he was and not rush over to her and crush those soft, full lips beneath his own.

  “Hi,” he said, stunned to find his hands trembling. He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Hi.” She bit that plump bottom lip and he noticed the gloss was gone. He considered her face.

  “You removed your makeup?”

  She applied it sparingly, unlike Birgitta, who’d never appeared in his presence without it, and always managed to get the heavily caked cosmetics all over his clothes and hers. Now he could see that Chelsea didn’t need an abundance of artifice. Her creamy complexion was smooth and clear, her brown eyes wide and bright.

  She shrugged and pulled at the hem of her white “Girl Gone Gamer” T-­shirt. He thought she’d appreciate it, given her response to his “Talk Nerdy . . .” shirt the night of her arrival.

  “Where did you get the clothes?” she asked. “I don’t remember these in your closet, either.”

  “I drove down to San Mateo and bought them yesterday.”

  “But . . . you’ve been busy with the presentation.”

  He should’ve been busy with the presentation. “It was important.”

  Her lips quirked. “They fit perfectly . . . almost like you knew my size.”

  The memory of his close contact with her curves sent blood rushing to his dick. “A ­couple of days ago I had the opportunity to survey your body thoroughly. I interpreted what I felt to figure out your approximate size.”

  She dipped her head, but glanced up at him through her lashes.

  “Come here,” he requested, holding out his hand. When they touched, sensation trailed up his arm. She twined her fingers with his and followed him to the couch in front of the television.

  “What’s all this?” She gestured to the coffee table.

  “An assortment of apples, grapes, fresh pineapple, chips, various beverages, two game controllers, and a PlayStation 4 system.”

  She laughed. “Yes, I know what each item is. They’re some of my favorites. Why are they here?”

  “They were in your supplies the night of the storm.”

  “Let me try again. What are we doing with them?”

  Wasn’t it obvious? “We’re going to play video games.”

  “Seriously? Sweet.” She rubbed her hands together. “I kick ass at Wii Sports.”

  He snorted. “Laudable for a teenage boy who depends on his parents for gaming gear. We’re playing a third-­person shooter.”

  She frowned, taking a ­couple of steps back. “A shooter game? I don’t play those.”

  “It’s not hard. You can learn.”

  “I don’t want to learn. And speaking of learning”—­she smoothed her hand down the side of her pants—­“we really don’t have time for this. You still have lessons for your presentation.”

  He studied her, noticing the tense set of her shoulders and the downward turn of her lips. “There’s no shame in trying something you may not excel at.”

  “Easy for you to say, Genius George. But for us mere mortals, there’s nothing fun about looking stupid.”

  “In the week since we’ve met you’ve asked me to do things that have made me uncomfortable. I’ve done them, which required a level of trust. I’m asking for that same level of trust in return. Playing video games is how I relax and have fun and I’d like to share that experience with you. If you don’t enjoy yourself, you can leave and we can resume our lessons tomorrow.”

  A dent appeared between her brows and her gaze bounced away from his. An evasive maneuver. Fuck! Was she going to decline his invitation? A week ago he’d denounced déjà vu as fanciful nonsense. What he wouldn’t give in that moment to be a mind reader, to know her candid and unfiltered thoughts. He waited, his breath caught in the back of his throat, hoping she’d decide to stay. Finally, the corner of her mouth tugged upward and she walked around to the front of the sofa and sat down.

  “So, what game are we playing?”

  Lightness spread throughout his chest, and he resisted the urge to pump his fist in triumph. Instead he settled next to her and picked up a controller. Pressing a few buttons, the television sparked alive in a burst of color.

  “UnMapped 2.”

  “UnMapped. Isn’t that your favorite game?”

  She remembered. “Yes,” he said, trying not to sound too pleased at this revelation.

  “Is this a new version? You didn’t mention a series when you answered CGR’s questions.”

  “The designers sent a beta to select players for feedback before its release early next year.”

  “How did you manage to get on that list?”

  He smiled. “I may not be much in the entertainment field, but in the computer world, I’m a big deal.”

  She slid him a sidelong glance. “I hate to tell you this, Mr. Bennett, but you’re a hotshot in anyone’s world.”

  The words were innocuous enough, but he thought he detected a warmth in her tone and a sparkle in her eye. It could be an illusion of the light, still . . . His dick twitched in his pants.

  “It’s great for all gamer levels. It’s a third-­person POV shooter that hard-­core gamers love, but there’s a storyline with romance and extended cut scenes that I think newcomers will enjoy as well.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” She laughed and clapped her hands together. “I’ve always wanted to say that. So this is what you do for fun?”

  “Yes.” He brought up the game’s menu. “It’s also beneficial for my work. If I encounter a problem and the solution eludes me, playing for an hour often yields an answer. A release of dopamine, combined with a relaxed state of mind and a distracting activity, can lead to a burst of creativity.”

  “And you said you needed help. That type of endorsement should be splashed all over the packaging.”

  He laughed and reached over to hand her the other remote. “I took the chance you’d agree to play and set up your avatar.”

  Her digital character, complete with mocha skin, big brown eyes, and a riotous mound of black curls, appeared on screen.

  “I’m not much of a gamer,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “but even I can tell that avatar is pretty specific.”

  In prepping their game session, he’d been surprised at the limited choices of avatar options for women of color. And none of what was available came close to capturing the richness of Chelsea’s skin tone. So he installed a mod file organizer and uploaded his own modifications until he was satisfied with the end product.

  “The choices were narrow-­minded and shortsighted. So I modded details about your character’s face and body.”

  She said nothing for several seconds and he frowned. Had he done something wrong? Maybe she would’ve preferred a generic avatar and was annoyed that he’d made the choice for her. When he looked at her, she had a hand pressed against her chest. “That’s . . . amazing. Thank you.”

  Warmth dispersed throughout his body. “It was my pleasure. It makes the experience more enjoyable. My feedback will contain a recommendation for more ethnically diverse options in creating game characters.”

  A nanosecond after her sweet fragrance provoked his senses, her hand landed on his thigh and she kissed his cheek. Her luminous eyes pinioned his for a long moment before she released him and returned her attention to the screen.

  He reached up and swept his fingers over the sensitized skin on his face. The warmth in her eyes, the kiss on his cheek felt more intimate than anything
they’d done days before. This was exceeding his expectations. He cleared his throat and refocused on the controller in his hand. Pressing more buttons, he used his thumb to move the joystick. His avatar, created from the stock selection, popped up on the screen next to Chelsea’s.

  “Is that your character?” she asked. “He’s hot.”

  He winked at her. “A cyber imitation of the original.”

  Hoping he could deliver on all he’d promised, he started the game.

  “The graphics are incredible,” she said. “I feel like I’m watching a movie.”

  “These sequences are called cut scenes. They’re used between game play to give backstory, show conversations between characters, and as rewards if you reach a certain level. This scene informs us of our character’s motivation and sets up the adventure.” He pointed to the screen. “We need to get to that ship. Are you ready?”

  She flexed her fingers around the remote. “Yeah, I think so.” The corners of her lips inclined upward. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into playing video games when we should be working.”

  “You can’t work all of the time.” Mike and Jonathan would never believe that he was the one championing a respite.

  “I have to if I want to be successful.”

  “And being successful is important to you?”

  She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin. “It’s everything.”

  Later, he’d consider what she’d revealed, but now he activated the characters and led his avatar to the ship, where he took fire from the enemy. He ducked behind a cargo crate and looked for Chelsea’s avatar. She was several feet away, engaging in a bizarre choreography of moves. She paced left and right, jumped up and down, crouched, then straightened, pulled out a gun and knife, then re-­sheathed them. She was shielded from enemy fire by the broken-­down pickup truck near the pier’s entrance.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, mesmerized by her avatar’s frenetic gestures.

  “I’ve got to learn the controls. I can’t look down at my hands the entire game.”

  He stared at her, captivated by her logical thought process. Two minutes later, she scurried across the pier toward the shipwrecked boat. She didn’t draw her weapon, appearing to value stealth over confrontation and brawn. Seeing that she didn’t intend to protect herself, he became her muscle, shooting anyone who even looked in her direction, as she made it to the ship. When his avatar joined hers, the scene froze and wording on the screen indicated they’d successfully completed the level.

  “That was so much fun,” she said, edging forward on the couch. “Now, somewhere on this ship is a treasure map, right?”

  “Yes, but the money isn’t our endgame. There’s an ancient artifact he believes will cure his sister. The money is for the scouts who’ll guide them through the jungle to the sacred temple. To get the artifact, we’ll need to locate the map.”

  She firmed her lips and nodded. For the next hour he marveled at her complete dedication to searching for that map and interviewing guides for their expedition.

  “This is crazy. He can’t believe they’re going to live up to their promise. They’re the bad guys,” she yelled at the screen, when a cut scene showed their characters interacting with a group of mercenaries who were seeking the map for different reasons.

  She surprised him with the questions she asked, more invested in the game than he’d anticipated.

  “Why did you make that move?”

  “What would’ve happened if we’d declined their deal and explored on our own?”

  “If we think we’ve made the wrong decision, can we go back and change it? Will that error affect the game’s outcome?”

  And through it all, he was cognizant of her next to him, her scent a subtle tease to his senses. Even as he pushed the correct combination of buttons to take out his prey, he was aware of when she reached for a drink, scratched her neck, or shifted on the sofa.

  Thirty minutes later, they’d crossed the first threshold in their game mission.

  “That was really good,” she said. “It was better than I expected.”

  Unclenching his fingers from the controller, he stood and stretched. “Better than Wii Sports?”

  She laughed. “Yes! You know, it reminded me of those books I used to read when I was a kid. The Choose Your Own Adventure books. This was like an interactive movie where you could decide how you wanted it to play out.”

  He grabbed two bottled waters from the cooler and handed one to her. He plucked a grape from the bowl of fruit on the table in front of them.

  “Not your typical gamer fare.”

  “It’s not,” he agreed. “But I spend a lot of time in front of a computer screen. Programming can be a sedentary lifestyle.” He patted his stomach. “I don’t want to get fat.”

  Her eyes swept down his body and a rush of desire made him light-­headed. When their gazes met, hers was feverish. “I don’t think you’ll have any problem with that.”

  He sat down slowly and shifted on the sofa until their knees were touching. He assuaged the aching in his fingers by reaching out to lightly stroke a curl. His body tightened as the spiral encircled his digit in a gesture he yearned for their bodies to mimic. Her lips parted, then she blinked, exhaled, and moved away.

  He smarted from the severed connection. Shaking his head, he took a drink of water from the bottle and swallowed. He picked up the other controller and offered it to her. “You ready for the next level?”

  He expected her to demur, to decide that she didn’t want to continue. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Bring it on,” she said, and he placed the controller in her palm.

  He smiled and pressed the buttons needed to begin the next level. She had no idea what was coming. She’d completed a few levels and believed herself experienced.

  “Holy hell! Where did they come from?”

  The pirates he’d been expecting swarmed their characters on the screen. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowed as her fingers moved over the controller, depressing buttons in different combinations.

  “Stop staring at me and get your ass in gear. I can’t hold them off by myself!”

  He grinned and settled back against the sofa. For the first time in years, he was content.

  Chapter Eleven

  FIVE HOURS LATER, her fingers cramped and almost numb, Chelsea dropped the controller on the coffee table. She didn’t try to repress her giddiness.

  “That was incredible!” Outside, the sun had set, the orange glow bathing the mountains in a warm light. “I can’t believe we played all afternoon! It feels like we sat down ten minutes ago.”

  Next to her, Adam set down his controller. “Only if one of us were capable of traveling at the speed of light.”

  He stood and stretched, the movement lifting his white T-­shirt and treating her to another glimpse of his golden, muscled skin. Her mouth watered at the sight, and she had to swallow to avoid an embarrassing drooling incident. Her response to him no longer surprised her. She glanced up and their eyes met. The air between them thickened. Without breaking the visual contact, he lowered his arms and his tongue darted out to moisten his bottom lip. Her nipples tightened and tingled, blood rushing to all parts of her body.

  Dammit. It’s like the time she spent lecturing herself hadn’t happened. It would be so easy to give in to it, in to him. Especially now that she’d had a taste of him. Knew how intoxicating his kiss could be. Knew how strong he was, how being held in his arms made her feel sexy and desired. But it couldn’t happen again, and the fact that she was still obsessing over it made her question her once-­dependable sanity. She had a job to do. And as much as she’d come to like him, she’d been working toward this partnership for a long time. Once this was over, she would go back to her job and never see Adam again.

  She ignored the twinge that thought engendered.
It didn’t matter how she felt or how she’d enjoyed the day or how much she reveled in his kisses. She needed to keep her goal in mind. She was here to get him ready for the project launch.

  And they’d lost an entire day because she’d let him distract her from her goal.

  “Well, that was fun, but I’m starving. I’m going to head back to my house and grab something to eat. Good night.”

  “Wait.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hand as she started to walk away. Jolts of electricity tingled up and down her arm at the contact. She looked at their joined hands, at his strong fingers gripping hers, before peering up into his face.

  His eyes were dark and intense as they stared at her. He was so gorgeous; she could look at his face forever. She wondered whimsically if this was some sort of trial. Was the universe testing her to see if she really wanted this promotion? Was he the pond’s reflection and she Narcissus? Would she spend all of her time looking at him as things around her changed and died, like her career focus and goals?

  She flexed her fingers and he dropped her hand. Her body wept at the loss of contact.

  “Our day isn’t over,” he said, his voice thick and husky.

  “I think I’ve played enough video games for a while.” She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. “These babies need a rest.”

  He laughed, as she’d intended, the thickness of tension easing in the room.

  “No more games today, I promise. We’re having dinner in San Francisco. Quartet,” he said, naming a popular restaurant beloved by some of her clients.

  She’d always wanted to eat there. Swallowing hard, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  “You said you were starving. I’m offering a practical solution.”

  “Adam.” Her self-­preservation alarms went off as she stepped closer to him. She could dance around this, but that wasn’t really her style. “We shouldn’t do this. Not if you still want me to help.”

  She moved away, heeding her inner warnings.