Hard to Hold

by K. Bromberg

  But why? I mean, I get my history with the WNBA, but something feels too good to be true here.

  “And what’s in it for me, Cannon?”

  “A break in the monotony of stroking arrogant athletes’ egos.” He chuckles because he’s right; at times it does get old. “And a way to carve out more of a niche for yourself. Sure, you’re part of a very successful sports agency, but don’t you want to stand out for something? Don’t you want to be the sister athletes request by name? Or teams or leagues, because you’re known as being a miracle worker who advocates for athletes?”

  I twist my lips as I stare at him, his words hitting so very close to home after the knock my confidence has taken over the past twenty-four hours.

  Isn’t this what I need? A bit of a boost. Something I can call my own? Maybe Cannon is right. Maybe I need to carve out a niche for myself.

  Better yet, be introduced to more athletes who might not know the agency and perhaps pull a few onboard with us? I’d be lying if the thought didn’t have me nodding ever-so-subtly.

  “And the compensation?” I ask as if I already haven’t decided that I’m taking the job.

  His smile pulls up at one corner of his mouth and he slides a folder across the table. “It’s all in here, including compensation as well as bonus potential. I’m sure it’ll be to your liking.”

  I glance down at the folder as he removes his hands from it and then back up at him.

  I think of my mantra at the airport earlier today. Sunshine, sand, palm trees, Johnny, and now, a new opportunity.

  Sounds perfect to me.

  There are a million more questions I should ask, but I don’t.

  This is something different for sure. A change of pace I never knew I was looking for, and a challenge I didn’t realize I’d been needing.

  Take the job, maybe add some new clients to the KSM portfolio, and maybe increase the market’s awareness of me as an agent.

  Don’t take the job and go right back to what I left—misnomers about what I can bring to the table and accomplish for our family business.

  Prove to whom though? My fellow agents who were mocking me? My family who, by their actions, seem to agree with them? Or is it merely to myself so I believe without question that I’m just as good as I thought I was?

  Cannon clears his throat as he taps a finger on the folder he’s left in the space between us. “Compensation, job requirements, a non-disclosure, and the like. Take this evening to look it over and then we can talk here tomorrow at ten. Does that work for you?”

  “Yes. Sure.” I say the words with indecision in my tone but my mind is already made up.

  A change of scenery, pace, and duties . . . that might be just what this girl needs to get her groove back.

  LENNOX

  JOHNNY’S VOICEMAIL COMES THROUGH THE speakers of my rental car loud and clear as I navigate my way through the Hollywood Hills.

  “I like how you don’t even ask me if you can stay but rather just drop a text saying I’m going to have a house guest for the next few weeks. That’s so very Lennox of you, it’s ridiculous.” His laughter rings throughout the car and makes my smile grow even wider. “The door code is one-three-one-three to get in. You can take the bedroom on the third floor with the spa tub you loved last time you were here. Make yourself at home but just a warning—” The message continues but it’s a pixelated garble that I can’t understand. He must have called me when he had poor cell service. “—So deal with it. You’ll be fine. Try not to get into any of that trouble I know you’re fond of. I’ll be home with dinner around five. I’m assuming you want that crappy Chinese food you always want when you visit. And I’ll oblige this once, but so help me, Lenn, if this is the shit you expect me to eat the whole time you’re here, I’ll kick your ass out.”

  I laugh at the empty threat as the call ends. He secretly complains about the crappy food but it’s a tradition, and he knows how I like my traditions.

  With a glance at the GPS, I take a right down a street that doesn’t feel familiar, even though I’ve driven it before, just as my phone rings.

  I’ve been avoiding this call all day long so I might as well confront it head-on.

  “Hello?”

  “Where the hell are you?” Dekker asks without preamble.

  “Los Angeles.”

  Her next words come out in a screech. “You’re where?”

  “LA. City of Angels. California.” The opposite coast of where you are.

  “What for?” There’s judgment in my sister’s tone that I hate.

  “I had a meeting with Cannon Garner with the MLS.”

  “Why would you do that? I thought we talked about his offer and decided it was a bad call for the company.”

  “We didn’t talk about anything, Dekk,” I say and uncover another lie that Chase told. “You guys must have talked and then you guys must have decided. I don’t believe my opinion ever factored into anything.”

  “It’s not that, Lenn . . . it’s—”

  “It is that. I don’t need to be coddled. I don’t need—”

  “Sit back for two seconds and think about his offer. Why would the MLS call for a sports agent to work in and promote its organization? You represent athletes, not leagues. Why out of all the agents in our field did he only offer the position to you and no one else even after you said no?”

  “After Dad said no,” I correct.

  “Does it matter? The same question still applies.” Her frustrated sigh fills the line. “He’s singling you out for a reason. Cannon’s known for needing everyone who works for him to fit a certain mold. Add to that he has quite the reputation for not being respectful to women who work for him.”

  “So now the only reason Cannon asked me to work for him is because I’m pretty? Not because I’m knowledgeable? Jesus, Dekk, if Dad told you to call and give me a pep talk, you’re definitely doing a shitty job of it.”

  “C’mon. It’s talked about quietly in circles that he’s a womanizer who uses his influence and position to get what he wants out of the women he hires. Hell, ever since he met you a few years back, he’s been trying to get you to work with him in any capacity, even when it doesn’t have anything to do with your area of expertise. He obviously has a thing for you.”

  I feel like I’ve been hit with whiplash. I didn’t know anything about Cannon’s reputation, but who am I to believe it after I heard the rumors being spread about me?

  And while I should really step back and take the time to listen to what my sister is saying, all I hear is what she’s not saying. “So God forbid you think he’s really hiring me to do a real job, right? It’s more than obvious no one in this family thinks I’m capable of shit.”

  “Quit making assumptions. Knock the chip off your shoulder and listen to what I’m saying to you.”

  “The chip on my shoulder?” My voice is ice-cold as events I’m sure she has no idea about collide in my mind and piss me off.

  “Lennox.” My name is a frustrated sigh on her lips. “I’m only looking out for you. The last thing I want is this prick to think he’s going to get more from you than just your professional input.”

  “Right.” I roll my eyes, but then make the final turn down Johnny’s street and want to cry as his house comes into view. Thank God.

  There’s something about him that always makes me feel whole again. Something that’s been there since we first met in college all those years ago.

  “All I’m saying is that there’s more than meets the eye with his offer.”

  “An offer you don’t know the first thing about,” I accuse.

  “I don’t have to. I know Cannon is either going to try to get in your pants or he’s setting you up somehow. Like ask you to do something unethical so you take the fall and he doesn’t.”

  “Wow. That’s a huge stretch you just made.”

  Her silence reigns as I pull up to the sleek, modern house in front of me. It’s all straight lines and hard edges with a minimalist ext
erior. It’s such a contrast to the green foliage it’s hidden behind, but I know the truth. The back of the house opens up to unhindered views of the city below with not a single neighbor in sight.

  “Listen, Dekk. I’m a big girl who makes the decision about who I allow in my pants. I can more than handle myself. Also, have a little faith in me. I’m not going to do anything stupid that will risk the agency’s or my reputation.

  And if she mentions Bradly, I might scream. That once fun fling has now become an albatross. “Look, I need a change of scenery, a different perspective for a bit, and this MLS gig might provide just that.”

  “You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?” she murmurs.

  “I have.”

  She laughs, as do I, because in that moment, I know she’s not angry but simply wary. For me. At least, I hope so. “And this is why I love you, Lenn, and wouldn’t expect anything less. My stubborn, independent, free-spirited sister.”

  “Exactly.”

  And it’s about time I felt that way again.

  Within minutes, I’m out of my rental and inside the house. I’m greeted with the wood accents and neutral tones of Johnny’s house that no doubt Mommy and Daddy’s money helped to pay for, but a cool ten million for a house in the Hollywood Hills is a mere drop in the bucket.

  I run my hand over the gorgeous marble island and take a piece of candy from the dish on top of it. He still has his sweet tooth, I see. But I startle when I see the stash of supplements and protein powders at the opposite end of the counter.

  Who took Johnny and what did they do to him? Because he is the unhealthiest person I know in the fittest of bodies.

  Huh.

  Maybe that’s why he bitched about getting Chinese food tonight. Too much sugar and GMO or who the hell knows what? I can eat it without worrying about how it affects my waistline.

  A fast metabolism is a blessing of mammoth proportions.

  Once upstairs, I open my suitcase and am hit with the scent of stale cigarette smoke on my clothes that can only be reminiscent of a long week in Las Vegas.

  “Ugh,” I mutter, hating the smell, but knowing the perfect solution: throw what I can in the wash while I jump in the pool and soak up the California sunshine.

  With the washing machine humming and my bikini on, I all but sprint from the back door to the pool and jump in, in full cannon-ball mode.

  When I resurface, the laughter that’s on my lips dies a shocked death when I look up and see the man standing at the edge of the grass.

  Standing there with sweat glistening off his tattoo-decorated skin and corded muscles, a cocky smirk pulling up one corner of his lips, expressive eyes laden with amusement, and a body that’s . . . completely naked.

  “Well, I’ve had a lot of women go to a lot of lengths to get to me, but this is most definitely a first,” he says in a British lilt. “Fancy a swim now, did you?”

  My heart stutters the minute our eyes meet—his pale green to my dark blue.

  I know who he is immediately.

  Who wouldn’t?

  Soccer—er football star extraordinaire, aloof bad boy, and the untamable phenomenon, Rush McKenzie.

  The one who’s naked in all his well-endowed glory at the edge of the pool while I’m standing inside it wondering what in the hell is going on.

  The same Rush McKenzie who was embroiled in a scandal in the UK last month. The one that my sisters and I took one look at in The Sun newspaper and thanked our lucky stars he wasn’t our client, because God knows what bullshit, fallout, and consequences would follow in the wake of that shitshow.

  Apparently, this is the bullshit that follows. McKenzie heading to America for some rest and relaxation, unaffected and arrogant without a care in the world of the devastation he left in his wake.

  To the teammate whose marriage he allegedly destroyed.

  To his own team, which was so tangled up in taking sides, they played like crap and all but handed their opponent the win in the Champions League finals.

  To his career. In a year where he’s up for a contract renewal, this wasn’t the best time to pull this stunt.

  To his reputation . . . but then again, I’m not really sure that he cares one bit. While the man can do no wrong when he touches the ball on the pitch, his penchant for causing trouble isn’t anything new to him.

  Why am I not surprised that he’s here in Johnny’s house? I ran away here too, didn’t I?

  Our eyes meet—hold—his smile widening with each passing second, the charm turned on and then some.

  I’ve heard the term magnetism before. I thought I understood it. But I didn’t have a clue what it meant, what it felt like, until this very moment.

  Until him.

  I immediately hate him for it.

  But it’s more than his incredible body, crooked smile, and undeniable presence—so much more—that has me standing here fumbling for words when words are typically my strong suit. Every single thing about him captivates every single thing within me.

  And that’s even after knowing what he’s rumored to be capable of.

  Something’s definitely wrong with you, Lenn.

  And to think I swore off men.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I say with a shake of my head as if I’m trying to break the spell he seems to have on me. My eyes dart down to where they shouldn’t, curious about the tattoos, among other things, that highlight his body, before meeting his eyes again. “I was hot. I thought I was alone. I wanted to take a swim. All three are well within my rights.”

  “What a coincidence. I was sore from my workout. I wanted to use the sauna. I thought I was alone. Funny how that works.”

  “Hence you being naked.”

  “Yes. Hence.” He takes a few steps forward, completely unabashed over his nudity, and why should he be when he looks like that—a Greek god plus tattoos. He reaches down and scratches his lower abdomen, drawing my eyes to track where that wicked V trims at the waist before coming to the thickness of his cock resting against the defined muscles of his quads.

  “Don’t you want to put some clothes on?” I ask and motion to the chair where I can now see his towel is, pretending like the sight before me doesn’t affect me, when how can it not?

  “Why, darling? It seems you’re quite enjoying the view. Why would I want to deprive you of it?”

  “Seriously?” I ask with a partial chuckle that in no way reflects the fact that what he says is true.

  Rush McKenzie is definitely easy on the eyes in more ways than one. He’s sparking my libido to life without even trying.

  But I refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking again—especially after the last comment he made. So instead we stand under the gorgeous California sun staring at each other.

  There’s wicked lechery in his expression, while mine has a heavy dose of disbelief.

  And desire.

  Because I’d be lying if I said my mind didn’t wander off and have a dirty little fantasy beginning with all the lines my tongue would like to trace over those defined abs and beyond.

  Just when I swore off men, one worth breaking the promise to myself comes waltzing right in—and naked at that.

  I can’t make this shit up.

  And after one long, glorious look at Rush, I don’t think I want to.

  RUSH

  INTERESTING.

  Devastatingly gorgeous when I’ve only seen her from the shoulders up and yet, she’s so very interesting, staring at me from where she stands in the pool.

  From where she hasn’t backed down when most women would have given that annoying giggle and jiggle of tits so I could see what’s being offered up.

  But not her.

  Not this woman, with her sapphire-blue eyes that have no shame in staring.

  “So you broke into a house that isn’t even mine and won my attention. Now what do you plan on doing with me in the short time between me ringing the police and them showing up?” I ask, knowing a lot can be done in that short a
mount of time. From past experience.

  But her coughed-out laugh and raised eyebrows tell me this isn’t the usual fangirl encounter. She’s too calm, too unfazed.

  All hints of the person who moments ago ran out of the house to do a cannonball without a care is gone, and has been replaced with the curious, calculated woman standing before me.

  Problem is, I saw that side of her—the reckless, the carefree—and it’s tempting to find it again when I shouldn’t give a toss.

  “Let’s see,” she says as she moves toward the steps of the pool. “I know the code to get in the door so I’m not breaking in.” She moves up a step revealing perfectly shaped tits—not too big, not too small—nestled perfectly beneath the two red triangles of fabric. “I’ve known Johnny for about eight years so I’m more than welcome here.” Another step up, and now I’m treated with the narrowing of her waist where the glitter of a jewel is in her navel. “And last, I don’t have an ounce of interest in you whatsoever, which I’m sure comes as quite the shock to your ego.”

  Liar.

  It’s in the set of her chin and flicker of her eyes back down to my cock that tells me otherwise.

  But when she steps out of the pool, and I’m greeted with the entirety of this woman, I’m knocked off my stride. She’s a good five foot eight, fit but not too muscular, with curves that highlight every damn inch of what holds any normal man’s attention. She’s soft and supple in that perfect way that we men like—to hold on to and sink into—but not feel like we’re going to break her.

  Bloody hell.

  I take a step forward. “That makes two of us then.”

  “At least that’s settled now.” Her lips twitch, because she knows I’m lying just as sure as I know she is. “I’d ask if you’re staying here, but I’ll make the assumption the answer is yes.”

  I nod. “I might be lying low for a while.”

  Her laugh tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Lying low? In Los Angeles? I think someone may have lied to you about what this city is all about. It’s seen or be seen. If you want to lie low, you go somewhere like Montana and play with horses.”