At Grant’s baffled look…and moment-long hesitation, Jackson squeezed Grant’s throat and slid him up the wall a foot. Panicked, Grant started frantically clawing at Jackson’s vice-like hold.
“Jackson! Enough. Let him go.”
Leila’s voice was his only saving grace. He released the sack of wasted air and watched him crumple into a puddle. “He still owes you an apology,” he snarled.
A soft hand stroked over his arm, bringing his blood pressure down out of the rafters. “No, he doesn’t need to apologize. I don’t need it. Nothing he says means anything to me.”
Jackson turned to cup her beautiful face. “Do my words mean something, sunshine? Does my apology? That hurt I saw in your eyes today…” He shut his eyes in pain. “That about killed me. I never want to be the cause of any pain for you again, sweetheart. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
From his puddle on the ground, Grant snorted. “You can’t possibly be buying any of this, Leila. All you’ll ever have with him is pain. He’s a multi-billionaire. Wake-up. You know well enough that you’ll never be good enough for him. With him, you’ll be nothing more than his dirty little secret. Just another notch on his bedpost. With me, you can be so much more. So much more than you are now, and more than you ever imagined. You can be a politician’s wife.”
Teeth clenched in fury, Jackson gritted out—slowly so the idiot would get it through his thick skull—“Leila is already so much more than you and your pea-sized brain could ever fathom. She’s talented; one of the most incredible reporters I’ve ever met. Brilliant, quick, dedicated, and resourceful. She’s made a lasting name for herself in the media with her fans, and with some of the world’s greatest athletes and coaches. Leila isn’t now nor will she ever be ‘just’ anything. And if she’ll let me, I’ll spend my lifetime helping her celebrate that remarkable fact, along with every single amazing thing she’s surely going to accomplish.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
While Leila was busy trying to keep her knees locked under her, the bane of her existence now finally crawling up to a standing position again was stifling another derisive snort.
The insulting sound was soundtracked a moment later by the ringtone that belonged to the other man in her life who’d managed to hurt her over and over.
She sighed, knowing exactly what the phone call was going to bring, but figuring it would at least serve in an extermination capacity for her current pest problem.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Leila, sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me that the young fellow you’re dating is the heir to the Grayhurst f…family.”
“You almost said ‘fortune,’ didn’t you?” she asked, dryly. “The Grayhurst family fortune that’s probably worth, what over twenty billion dollars?”
“Thirty-six, actually,” whispered Jackson for her ears—and Grant’s—only.
Oh boy, she wished she had a spare camera. She’d never seen Grant stunned into silence before.
“You can’t blame your old dad for being impressed by a man’s longstanding fortune. So again, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know Jackson was a Grayhurst. And frankly, I’m not so sure I would’ve dated him if I had known.”
A wide smile broke out across Jackson’s face.
Damn, he had a great smile.
“Dad, can I help you with something? I have company.”
“Oh, of course, of course. Busy life for my famous TV daughter.” Impressively, he was holding strong to that doting fatherly tone. With billions entering into the picture, he was certainly upping his game. “I’m just calling to invite you and Jackson over next weekend for dinner.”
“Dad, remember, I took down my Gridiron Locks and Picks site. I don’t have the money to just fly over to Utah for dinner.”
“Well, I’m sure for Jackson, it’d be a drop in the—”
“Dad, before you finish that sentence, I should probably mention that Jackson’s standing right here.”
“Oh! No harm, no foul. It’s a pleasure to meet you, son.”
She rolled her eyes. She’d had just about enough of the freaky body snatcher version of her dad. “I also forgot to mention that Grant stopped by as well.”
“Is that no-good boy still sniffing around you?” His voice was raised to a protective tone she’d never once heard in her life. “I’ll have to give him a talking to as soon as he returns to Utah.”
“Sir!” sputtered Grant, finally breaking radio silence. “Just last week, you said—”
“Grant, you leave my daughter alone now you hear me?” The interruption was forced, and rushed—she could only imagine what would have been revealed at the end of that sentence. Her father barreled along before she could speculate, however. “Now boy, I know you’re hung up on my daughter but she’s already made her answer perfectly clear. So you leave Leila and her new beau alone. You know good and well I can destroy your political career with my thumb, and I won’t hesitate to do that for my little girl.”
Leila nearly burst out laughing, both from the laughable words spewing like volcanic crap from her father’s mouth, and from the shade of purple Grant’s face was turning as he all but stomped his foot like a three-year old.
After a few more carefully worded threats, Grant was soon slinking away, his dejected exit a sad little final tantrum, which they all ignored.
“Gone in under a minute. Impressive, Dad.” She was being perfectly honest, there. If there was one thing the man really was impressive at, it was crushing the hopes and dreams of those around him.
“Anything for you, sweetheart. You just tell me if he continues to bother you.”
Gag.
“Dad, Jackson and I are going to have to turn down your dinner offer this weekend.”
“Well maybe your mother and I can go up there to meet you?”
“To see me? Anytime. But if I’m not good enough for you to want to see on your own then again, I’ll have to decline. I’m not Stacey, Dad. It’s not okay for you to look at me and see a prize cow to get a son-in-law that can further your political career.”
A hint of the father she’d known her whole life crept back into his tone. “Leila, don’t be so dramatic. You always blow things out of proportion and make things difficult for everyone.”
“Then let me make this simple. Until you can look at me without wishing I were more like Mom, or Stacey, or everyone in the world besides your ‘difficult’ daughter…consider me your non-existent daughter. I’ll stay completely out of your life, and you’ll stay out of mine. If one day, you decide you ever want me to start existing again, all you have to do is call me. I promise I’ll pick up.”
And with that, she hung up the phone and shut it off.
Boundless pride shown in Jackson’s deep, hazel eyes. “Nicely done, sunshine.”
“Thank you.” She crossed her arms and raised her brows. “But you’re not off the hook.”
A grin tipped up one corner of his mouth. “Didn’t think I was.”
“Who was the guy you were talking to earlier?”
“That would be Caleb. An old family friend who worries about me, looks out for me. He’s always been the older brother I wished Nate was.”
“And Nate is the one in the news right now?”
“Yes, the half-brother I told you about. Everything I’ve ever shared with you about my life has been the complete truth. I just…never told you my whole name, for obvious reasons.”
“Because a billionaire couldn’t be seen dating ‘just’ a sideline reporter?”
He flinched, and then snarled, “Don’t ever talk about yourself like that. I told you what you heard was out of context. When I told you in my past that my life was complicated, I meant that women were always after my money or my family’s companies. What you heard back there, it was me responding to Caleb’s concerns that you might be like one of those women—a con woman after my money or a corporate spy after my family’s companies.”
She wanted to believe him but the hurt was still throbbing in her chest. “Even in context, you told him that your future was safe, that I wouldn’t mess up anything.”
“And I meant it. You wouldn’t be messing up my life, Leila. You’d be adding to it, just like you’ve been doing since we met. And when I told him my future was safe, I meant that too. Because I trust you, Leila. Completely.”
He cupped her cheek and gazed into her eyes. “You wanted my trust and my control. Well you have both. But I’m afraid it comes as a package deal with my heart.”
Hers was very nearly melting on the spot.
“Sunshine, tell me I have the package deal with you as well.”
She reached up to smooth out his tie. “My control? I have no doubt. You’ve been driving me crazy with lust since the day I laid eyes on you.”
The wild look of possessive satisfaction brought a flare of that very lust racing through her veins, aiming it straight to her chest. “And judging by the way I can’t control my heartbeat right now, I think it’s safe to say you’ve gone and stolen that from me as well.”
He pressed her forehead against hers and she swore she heard him giving a quiet prayer of thanks.
“My trust, however. Is a different matter.”
He jerked back. “You don’t trust me?”
She splayed her hands across his chest to comfort him, while being perfectly honest. “I trust Jackson Gray completely. But Reginald Jackson Grayhurst the second, however, I don’t know at all.”
Jackson nodded. “Fair enough. What do you want to know?”
She smiled then. “Jackson, Jackson, Jackson. Have you forgotten how you once told me that you’re a patient man? Well, I’m afraid there will be no leapfrogging on this one. Reggie will have to start from square one if he hopes to win me over.” She raised her brows teasingly. “Everything from first kisses to first…other things.”
Grinning, he finally got her meaning and closed in on her. “That can be arranged.”
She backed up with a firm headshake. “Nice try, stranger. We’re going to take this slow. It took Jackson a few months to get me to even consider dating him.” She waved her hand at his Italian suit. “This guy, I think will require longer than that.”
“Think so?”
“Yep. In fact, that’s my official prediction...and we both know how good I am at those.”
His eyes glittered at the challenge. “You do remember that they call me the weatherman, right, sunshine?”
God, she was really starting to love that nickname….along with that look of wild heat and warm affection that lit his gaze whenever he said it.
He reached into the small delivery box as he made a prediction of his own. “Well, the weatherman predicts a week. Two weeks tops.”
Oh boy, she loved when she got to see the sides of him he never showed anyone else. This cocky, flirtatious side? Yep, it was definitely doing it for her.
Then he went and pulled out a small bouquet from the box he’d been carrying and she realized in an instant that her prediction had perhaps been the worst, most far-off one she’d ever made.
Even though the bouquet wasn’t the type a person would hold up to their nose and sniff, she did…and smiled from ear to ear at the fruity scents wafting from the unique bundle in her hands.
“You got me a lollipop bouquet.”
“I remember you saying one night that your dad never let you eat candy.”
“Yes, one of the horrific tragedies of my childhood,” she replied drolly, to keep from swooning.
She’d mentioned it once in passing not long after they’d first met. They’d randomly been talking about trick-or-treating during Halloween, and how she’d never been. For some reason, the discussion had made her think of the one time her third grade teacher had given her a single grape-flavored dum-dums lollipop, and how she’d hidden it under her bed and waited until her dad was back in D.C. before she risked tasting it. The day her father had flown out of town, she’d crawled up a tree in their backyard and savored the tiny little lollipop all afternoon long.
And that was why, to this day, grape was the flavor of lollipop she’d choose whenever she wanted to escape to a simpler time.
“I can’t believe you remember me telling you that story.”
“How could I forget it? It’s one of the few you’ve told me about your childhood where you looked truly happy.” Pulling her into his arms, he added, “But even if you hadn’t shared that story with me, I’d know your sugary little guilty pleasure by the sheer amount of lollipops you have in your apartment and at work.”
Guilty as charged. “They’re my go-to brain snack when I’m knee-deep in stats.” She looked down at the bouquet and smiled. “I maintain that each flavor has a different special power for me,” she said only semi-kidding.
Those deep-thinking eyes of his got serious as he listed, “Watermelon for when you’re stuck on something hard. Cream Soda when it’s a sure thing and you want to find something more. And anything but Bubble Gum when you’re in a bad mood.” A questioning eyebrow winged up at the corner. How am I doing? I haven’t figured out the others yet, but that’s what I’ve gathered so far.”
Holy moly. Oh yeah, she’d been waaay off in her prediction of a couple of months.
Pondering that, she selected a lollipop from her bouquet and began unwrapping it, all the while reveling in the way the muscles of his jaw hardened to granite as he watched her every move.
Happily content and more grounded than she could remember feeling in a long while, she half-sighed, half-hummed as she slid the Blue Raspberry lollipop she’d selected past her lips.
Instantly, Jackson’s eyes darkened and swung down to lock in on her mouth.
Was that a growl she just heard?
Why yes, yes it was.
Jackson was right. She’d be lucky if she lasted a day.
And for the first time ever, being proven wrong was feeling pretty darn right.
THE END
* * *
Don’t forget to keep an eye out for the rest of the
FOURTH DOWN SERIES
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A very special thank-you to MVD (Mr. Violet Duke) for all his unparalleled football coaching expertise. As he does in so many other aspects of my life, he makes what I know and love all the more complete, and infinitely better. And for every single day I’ve woken up at my usual three a.m. hour to find that (yet again, without fail) he has switched the TV to the NFL Network before he went to bed just so NFL AM would be on for me to rewind and happily watch commercial-free with my morning tea, I owe him far more than mere thanks. Because without even trying, the adorable man inevitably becomes responsible for my first smile of the day, each and every morning, and raises the bar that much higher for my fictional heroes to reach. I am one lucky, lucky girl.
EXCERPT FROM NEW YORK TIMES
BESTSELLING AUTHOR
VIOLET DUKE
“Love, Chocolate, and Beer”
© 2014 Violet Duke
Luke Bradford didn’t know why the almost irrationally sexy bartender in the too-tight top was pointing at him and frankly, he didn’t much care. It was the one with the killer smile beside her, the brunette he’d caught fleeting glimpses of the last few weeks while he’d been busy moving into town fully—even chatted with once in passing—that gripped his attention yet again.
She was tucking her sleek, dark chocolate hair behind an ear in seemingly shy reflex and he just sat there with the round he’d just bought the guys, unable to take his eyes off her.
“Holy shit,” breathed his buddy Isaac from beside him, jabbing him in the gut. “I think that goddess at the bar is pointing at you. Do you know her?”
Luke could barely hear him. His sole focus remained on the cute brunette—the hardest working bartender there by his estimation. Even as her friend was telling her something that obviously involved him, the woman hardly
paused long enough to spare a quick glance in his direction.
Though she doused it quickly, a sizzling, ultra-feminine awareness flared in her eyes in the brief moment they met his. And now a sweet, honest-to-God farm-girl blush was pinking her cheeks.
Man, oh man, was he in trouble.
Luke stopped trying to hide his interest then. He was doing a lousy job at it anyhow. He decided instead to up the blatancy level of his gaze considerably. Dare her to play. When she eventually, reluctantly, briefly succumbed—to politely glare him off mostly—he let his triumphant grin deploy his dimples, somehow knowing that would rile her enough to make her drop her defenses just a little bit more.
It did.
To his competitive delight, she instantly went on the offense, covertly returning his stare head-on and dropping the checkered flag for the silent game of Chicken that followed.
Hot damn.
One scorching, hard-fought minute later, victory was his.
Not just because she’d broken the connection first, but because a touch of humor had ghosted her lips when she had. Immediately following, the next hour found their gazes colliding across the room with increasing frequency. It was all more friendly than flirty but still, Luke was captivated.
And officially clueless as to what his buddies at the table around him had been talking about for the past twenty minutes…a decision he congratulated himself over when his continued lack of attention to his friends allowed him to catch his mystery bartender bending over to grab something from a floor shelf.
No, his basal response to that wasn’t evolved at all, but for some reason, the biologically encoded heat swell in his gaze didn’t seem to offend her when she caught him smiling appreciatively. Instead, it prompted a nose-scrunching twitch of a smile that she tried hard to hide behind a droll eye-roll.
Damn, she was cute.
Absently, he joined in the laughter at his table over some—apparently funny—joke one of the guys made before glancing back over again at his mystery girl.
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