Fair Play

by Tracy A. Ward

  Because you tried to date rape a seventeen-year-old girl, you pompous fuck.

  Those were the words I wanted to hurl at him. But I couldn’t bring myself to say them out loud.

  In two steps, Kyle Pritchard was in my face, only I didn’t give him the satisfaction of cowering the way I might have years ago. Instead, I held my ground.

  “The way I see it, you owe me, Ashlyn. You got me beat up for something I didn’t deserve—something you wanted, too. I spent two days in the hospital.” Kyle pointed to his nose. “Because my face is no longer leading man material, you ruined my career as an actor.”

  Did he really believe the things he said, or was this part of his intimidation? Kyle never made leading man because he wasn’t that good of an actor, not because Noah had rearranged his face. But whatever Kyle’s thought process, the conversation was getting us nowhere. I started to turn, but not before he reached out and grabbed my elbow.

  “Not so fast.” Kyle ran his fingers along the hemline of my short sleeve and smiled. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember,” he said.

  My stomach soured. “Go to hell.”

  His eyes shot to mine as his fingers stilled. “Perhaps if you come crawling to me on hands and knees and give me what you should have given me before your boyfriend busted in, I might find it in my heart to play fair with you. I might even be compelled to use my considerable influence to see that other judges look favorably on you, too. But only if you could convince me your apology was sincere.”

  My head tilted, but my eyes remained on his. Was he serious? Did he really think…? Bile from my sour stomach rose to my throat. “So basically what you’re saying is that if I sleep with you, you’ll help me win?”

  “As I said, I have the power to sway the other judges.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He smirked. “I hope you like community theater, because you’ll never get out of it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “So, if I don’t sleep with you, you’ll ruin my career, like how you think I ruined yours?” I fake-smiled right back at him. “I’m amazed at the power you think you wield in such a vast industry.”

  “Ever ask yourself why Little Lamb never got published?”

  My hand jerked, palm itching with the need to strike him. I didn’t. Some people deserved an ass-kicking, and Kyle Pritchard was one of them. But I took the high road.

  Kyle’s smile turned vicious. “You liked it rough. I enjoy girls who like it rough.”

  “You like girls.”

  His smile faltered, but only slightly.

  “You won’t get away with this,” I said.

  “Because you didn’t go to the police that night means I already did.”

  Walking to my car, I chastised myself the whole way. How could I have ever been so foolish as to blame myself for his behavior? Maybe I shouldn’t have invited a stranger into the apartment, but Noah was right. Decent guys stop at the word no. Always.

  “Oh,” Kyle said, just before I slammed my car door. “Before you go trying to make trouble for me, you should know a very good friend of mine is a back-up judge.”

  Intuition crept up my spine. I knew the name he was going to say—the one I’d kept myself busy enough not to think about all week.

  His tone brimmed with sarcasm. “I hear Anderson Jones has become quite a fan of your work. You be extra nice to me, I’ll be nice to you. The offer’s open, Ashley. Until curtains up, of course.” He put fingers in his mouth, turned, and whistled for his dog.

  Kyle may have saved the mayor’s kid, but he was made of pure evil. There had to be a way to stop him from ruining it for all of us. I just didn’t yet know how. What I did know was that with so much on the line—for me, for the theater, for Phair, and for Noah—timing was crucial.

  …

  Upon arriving back at my apartment, still shaky from my confrontation with Kyle, I sank down onto Noah’s beanbag. It felt like him, the way he’d wrapped his arms around me in the batting cage. It smelled like him, too, clean and manly with just a hint of spice. Breathing his scent in, slow and steady, my adrenaline levels evened out to the point I finally felt safe. Ready to face what had happened, I allowed my thoughts to drift back to Kyle.

  God. How dumb could I be?

  Had I really believed he was capable of doing the right thing? Instead, he’d threatened me. Now what was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to escape my past?

  My mind whirled with thoughts and memories. Noah, and the crush I’d had on him when I was young. Kyle, and how he ruined everything. Noah’s constant interference after that night. Anger churned around inside me. I knew logically I was angry at Kyle, but instead I wanted to lash out at Noah, whose constant protective actions kept messing everything up. If it hadn’t been for Noah, I wouldn’t be here in Phair, facing a past I’d wanted to forget and dealing with the fact that so many people’s futures were riding on my already burdened shoulders.

  Stupid Quinn for telling Noah about the contract between me and my father.

  Yeah, I had a bone to pick with my brother. But maybe he could help me figure out what to do with Kyle. I reached for my laptop and queued up my video chat.

  Quinn answered, almost like he’d been expecting me. I chalked it up to sibling telepathy.

  “What’s up?” he asked, his forehead creased in concern.

  I forced a smile and tried to sound breezy. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. Thought I’d check in.”

  “Started a new project this week.”

  Quinn and I never discussed the particulars of his work. He was the Golden Boy—brilliant and good looking, if you liked cheeky redheads who looked like a British prince. He followed his dreams and our whole family cheered him on.

  I followed mine and they braced themselves for failure.

  The way it was looking, they wouldn’t be waiting long. If I couldn’t come up with a solution to keep Kyle from sabotaging me and the Marshall Theater Players, my rock bottom was right around the corner.

  “Ashlyn,” Quinn said, leaning forward toward the camera. “Is everything okay?”

  I thought I could talk to my brother about this. Ask for his help in finding a way to keep Kyle from fulfilling his vendetta. Then I remembered how he’d betrayed me to Noah. So instead, I unleashed my gripe on my brother. “Why would you tell Noah about my contract with Dad?”

  Quinn paused. “Noah’s a smart guy, and he knows a helluva lot about contracts. Plus, he has a team of lawyers—some of which are licensed to practice law in Texas.”

  “So you showed him the contract?” My voice rose with every word. Though I knew it was irrational to blame Noah for any of this, my emotions were in free-fall.

  “It was a long time ago, Ashlyn.”

  “It doesn’t matter how long ago it was.” I jabbed my finger toward Quinn’s chest, visible through the screen. “You know it was Noah who convinced Lucas Marshall to bring me on at The Marshall Theater. It’s because of him I’m a part of this year’s festival.”

  “So?”

  “So…if I’m that damn talented, why hadn’t Lucas Marshall heard of me already? We live in the same state.”

  “You’re looking at this all wrong, Ash. Who cares how you got in? What matters is what you do with the opportunity. I believe in you, sis. So does Noah, and so does Lucas Marshall. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have brought you to Phair.”

  Of course Quinn didn’t get it. Everything he touched turned to cash. “I have been set up to fail… To lose Broadway and my inheritance, not to mention bringing an entire town down with me.”

  But it was more than that. Way more. My career wasn’t the only thing on the line. So was my self-respect. This had been my chance to prove to everyone—my father and myself especially—that I could succeed on my own merit.

  As it stood, even if Kyle Pritchard were out of the way, Anderson Jones remained in my path. The obstacles were piling at an insurmountable rate.

  Damn, but did I ever have to write a
killer script.

  Chapter Ten

  Noah

  After tailing Ashlyn to Lost Meadows and back, it was nearly dark by the time I arrived at my office. Thanks to the fiber-optic noise filtering and cameras I’d gotten from Quinn and had installed around the Airstream, I was able to hear and see every detail of her conversation with Pritchard. All on my phone, while I sat in my car, fifty yards away. This allowed me to be close enough to Ashlyn to keep her safe without her knowing I was even around.

  It had taken a fierce act of control not to go after Pritchard. Especially when he’d threatened to ruin her career if she didn’t sleep with him. My need to wrap my hands around his neck and crush his windpipe had me shaking with unleashed rage. But I couldn’t go after him. At least, not yet. Once Quinn worked his magic from the surveillance end by capturing the data and putting it on disc, Pritchard would be mine. The American Theater Critics Association or other unions Pritchard belonged to wouldn’t look favorably on an abuse of power by way of extortion.

  Needing to calm my anger and get my mind off wanting to hit something, I poured two fingers of scotch, took a seat behind my desk, and pulled up my e-mail. Things were looking exceptionally well with Cambridge Hotels, especially after the Phair City Council had come through and sweetened the deal with a couple more incentives. But before I could throw myself into work, an e-mail from Quinn popped up, informing me Ashlyn had called him and was going off the rails.

  I leaned back in my chair, trying to get a better angle to see from my window to hers. Besides the fact her light was on, I couldn’t see movement.

  A half-minute later, I stood in her hallway, knocking on Ashlyn’s door.

  No answer.

  I heard the rattle of pipes and realized she was in the shower—her second for the day and in less than three hours—which told me exactly what I needed to know about her state of mind. Pritchard’s indecent proposal made her feel dirty, and not in a good way.

  I tested the doorknob and had to bite back my irritation when it turned. Damn her, she needed to be more careful. I let myself in. Unsure how long Ashlyn had been or would be in the shower, I sat on the loveseat and kicked my feet up onto the coffee table, where her laptop sat. The file for Midnight in Summer was open. Curious, I scrolled up to the act 1, scene 2 header and read.

  Because I knew to look, I found instant similarities between Andy Rich and me. There were also a lot of differences. We’d both been raised in well-to-do households and were the owners of lucrative family businesses, but Andy had a short fuse and an arrogant disposition that was mostly unkind.

  Was that how Ashlyn saw me?

  I continued reading. Andy had been the legal guardian of a younger sister since he’d been eighteen. According to the script, he still saw her as a kid, even though she was grown. One night they’d fought over his dictatorial ways. She stormed out, dying in a car accident moments later. Andy blamed himself. But then he met Caroline at the bus stop at midnight on the anniversary of his sister’s death. Andy took it as a sign—he needed to save Caroline in the way he couldn’t save his sister. Only Caroline had other plans for Andy.

  The water shut off, jolting me back to reality before I finished the first act.

  I closed the screen and looked up.

  Steam spilled from the bathroom when Ashlyn opened the door and stepped out. Naked.

  Her sharp inhale sucked the breath right out of me as the towel she’d had in her hand fell to the floor. She started to bend to pick it up, but our eyes locked. She froze.

  Something in her expression changed. Before my eyes, she became Caroline.

  Slowly, Ashlyn reached up and pulled the tie from her hair. It fell in waves over her shoulders. And there wasn’t a thing about her that appeared vulnerable.

  She had me wound so tight it took focused effort to move. But if she wanted to play Caroline, I’d do my share and counter with Andy.

  “Look at you,” I said, walking toward her. Blood roared through my veins. “Backlit with steam billowing around you, you look like an angel who’s lost her wings.”

  “Wings just get in the way.”

  Using my body, I pressed her back against the doorjamb. One hand curved around her breast while the other cupped her cheek. “What do they get in the way of?”

  Her face turned. The tip of her tongue darted out to lick at the palm of my hand. A zap of current shot directly to my cock. Blue eyes that showed no fear bore into mine as she said, “Wings get in the way of being on my back…under you.”

  Jesus Christ, whether she was playing a part or not, this woman did to me what no woman ever had. My cock throbbed with the need to take her. Now. But this wasn’t going to happen hard and fast like it would’ve in the stairwell. Being with Ashlyn was more than sex. She was more than just a body a guy could use to fulfill some elemental need. She made me want to give her everything I had. And I wouldn’t stop until she was mindless.

  The pad of my thumb swiped over her peaked nipple. Her breath came slow, uneven. Even though I knew I should stop because she was playing at something and I discovered I wasn’t, the needs of my body usurped all logic and reason.

  “I’m going to count to ten,” I said, searching Ashlyn’s face for a hint of someone not Caroline. I found it in the depths of her eyes.

  “What happens on ten?”

  “I’m going to kiss you,” I said. “I’m going to kiss you until your bones melt. And that’s just starting with your lips. You have until ten to stop me. Otherwise, I’m not leaving until we both come so hard it measures colossal on a Richter scale.”

  Keeping her eyes trained on mine, she bit her lower lip.

  “One…two…three…”

  Ashlyn raised the bottom of my shirt, helped to pull it over my head. Her lips touched the bare skin of my chest, sending tremors of pleasure straight through me.

  “…four…five…six…”

  Her fingers went to the button of my jeans. I pushed her hands out of the way and unfastened them myself.

  “You’re counting too slow,” she said, sliding her hands down the back of my pants, inside my boxers. Ashlyn palmed my ass, pulling me tight against her. “Stop stalling. Just say ten.”

  “…seven…” I licked at her lips, turned with her, marching her backward to the bed. “…eight…” I kicked off my shoes. “…nine…” My cock throbbed. God I wanted to be inside her, to feel her tightness surrounding me, milking me mindless.

  Her hands inched up my back. “Say it.” Her lips brushed over mine. “Please say it.”

  I fisted her hair, but my mouth drew back, away from hers.

  No. I refused to take her like this. Somehow it felt like cheating, like I’d be betraying her trust in some way. My need for Ashlyn went beyond Caroline and Andy. I didn’t know what it meant. And I wasn’t about to try to decipher it now. Before I went any further, I had to know if she felt it, too.

  “Do you want me, Ashlyn?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. Her cheeks flushed, lips so red I knew they’d burn. “My God, yes.”

  “Say my name.”

  Confusion flickered in her eyes.

  “Say my name, Ashlyn, or I’m out that door.”

  “I want you, Noah.”

  “Ten.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ashlyn

  He wasn’t bluffing. The second Noah got to ten, he kissed me so hard and so deep I lost my place in the space-time continuum. Nothing existed outside the two of us. And as his mouth plundered, his hands moved, doing the most delicious things to my body, touching me in ways no one ever had.

  “My God, you’re beautiful,” he said, lowering me to my bed, his voice thickened by desire.

  Only I wasn’t beautiful. My lips were a little too big, my nose a bit too small. One breast was slightly different than the other, and no matter how many times I wore sunscreen, my freckles never went away. But Noah looked at me like he didn’t notice any of that. Seeing myself through his eyes made me feel beautiful, too.
r />   He kissed me again, not letting up until I melted, pliant in his arms. His thumbs played at my nipples. I sighed against his lips. Then his hands moved down farther, past my rib cage, until he caressed the smooth flesh of my inner thighs. It maddeningly went on. My back bowed as his tongue traced over my breasts, sucked the sensitive peaks into his mouth, one at a time. All the while my inner voice nagged, warning me to be careful. I could let Noah inside my head, inside my body. But I needed to protect myself—keep him from getting inside my heart.

  All that was easier said than done. Especially when he made me feel the things I felt now. Worshipped. Understood. Loved.

  Something was happening between us. Something bigger than the physical attraction we’d been fighting recently—bigger than our shared past, Andy, Caroline, The Marshall Theater and even Broadway.

  I realized I still cared for Noah Blake.

  And I cared a lot.

  His lips traveled lower. Fingers slid inside me as his thumb circled my sweet spot. “That’s it, Ashlyn. Open up for me. Just like that.”

  Dear God, everything about this—about him—felt good, making me wonder why I’d ever fought against my desire. It made me wonder why I fought against my heart. But giving in to one made it possible to not think about the other. And right now I didn’t want to think at all.

  “I need you inside me, Noah.”

  “Soon,” he said, positioning his shoulders between my thighs.

  Then he licked me, feather-light strokes at first, teasing my swollen center of nerves, increasing the pressure of his tongue as I writhed beneath him. My legs shook as he drank from me. My back arched. I clawed at the sheets beneath my fingers. “More,” I cried out. “Don’t stop.”

  When the spasms wracked my body, he didn’t wait a second longer. Maybe he couldn’t. Without allowing me to recover, or even to finish, he rolled on a condom and plunged inside me.

  I wrapped my hands around his neck, pulled his mouth to mine. He moaned, long and low in his throat. My hips rose to meet him. Sweat dampened our skin. As the tempo increased, I began to quiver all over again. Nails dug into his biceps. Our eyes locked.