To Win Her Heart (Players)

by Mackenzie Crowne

  A riot of color flared on Elizabeth’s cheeks. “I’m impressed. Your stage image is so sweet, but I’m afraid you aren’t quite ready to play with the grownups.” She sat back and satisfaction curled her painted lips. “Before you attempt blackmail, you really should check your sources. The judge in question has been dead for at least three years.”

  Crap. Adrenaline rushed through Jessi, making her fingertips tingle. Hidden from Elizabeth’s view by the desk, Tim’s foot began to bounce in a frantic beat. A deep breath failed to calm Jessi’s racing heart. “Yes, I could see where that might be a problem.”

  Elizabeth’s shoulders loosened.

  Jessi forced a smile, presenting a calmness she wasn’t close to feeling. “If I was planning to go to the authorities.” She brushed an invisible piece of lint from the knee of her slacks. “Watching you at your press conference last week was an eye-opening experience. I realized how effective a well-placed claim can be when a woman has the right reputation and an avid audience. You’re right about my sweet reputation, and this Sunday, at the Super Bowl, I’ll have an audience of hundreds of millions.” She dipped her chin and lost the smile. “And a live mic.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re bluffing.”

  “Am I?” Jessi pushed to her feet, afraid she was going to throw up. Tim immediately rose at her side. Holding Elizabeth’s cold gray gaze was like staring into ice. Jessi fought a shiver. “Max may not be interested in making you pay for your cruel treatment of him and your daughter, but I am. However, the currency you choose is entirely up to you. Haven Place or a media circus.” Slipping her hand in her pocket, she retrieved the slip of paper she’d put there earlier and placed it on the center of the desk. “I’m not interested in robbing you, Mrs. Krandall. I’ll transfer the fair market purchase price as soon as I hear from you and expect to receive the deed by courier before kickoff Sunday morning.”

  * * * *

  Tina bumped Max’s elbow with hers. “She’s back.”

  Max turned his head, and relief loosened some of the knotting in his gut. Jessi spoke quietly to Tim just inside the fight center doors. Despite her snide jab about Max continuing the night shift, he hadn’t been entirely sure she intended to return. She could have just as easily gone back to her place.

  From his position beside the fight ring where two of his clients squared off, he studied her face. She looked beat, and no wonder. After everything else that had happened yesterday, hitting her with the truth of why he’d agreed to her plan had been a miscalculation. He should have waited. Should have delayed dropping that bomb in her lap, but Christ. He’d admitted to killing a man, and her unexpected reaction had left him humbled and off balance.

  After his one-two punch last night, he should have expected her to do something rash—like slipping out of the condo while he was in the shower. Jessi was unpredictable under normal circumstances. Pissed, there was no telling what she would do, but calling it quits in the middle of a tour?

  Crushing guilt weighed on his shoulders like a cement yoke. Though his intentions were good, that last night in New Hampshire he’d practically badgered her to make some changes in her life. Was leaving the stage what she truly wanted? Or would she regret the move later and blame him for fucking with her head once she’d had the chance to think her decision through?

  Over her shoulder, Tim bumped his chin at Max in silent greeting, squeezed her elbow, and left. She turned, and without even a glance in his direction, headed for the stairs.

  Torn between relief she was safe and frustration over the mess he’d created, a ragged sigh rumbled in Max’s chest. “Have you got things here?”

  Tina smirked. “Don’t I always?”

  Max grunted and turned to follow Jessi upstairs. He had no doubt she was angry, with good reason, but was that all there was to her refusal to even look at him? Now that she’d had time to process all he’d told her, was she having second thoughts?

  He wouldn’t blame her if she was. She was too good for the likes of him. Always had been, but damn it, she’d said his past didn’t matter and had made him believe that was true. As far-fetched as the concept was, he, Max Grayson, the street rat who had mastered the art of walking away, no longer wanted to. Having opened his heart to the possibilities shining in her eyes and smile, how could he return to his self-imposed isolation, forever denying himself the healing warmth of her love?

  The sad truth was, he might not have a choice. Her cutting remarks earlier at Ryan’s condo said she hadn’t believed him when he’d said he loved her, but Jessi was the most loving and optimistic woman he’d ever met. Was it just her anger speaking or had he been right all along? Faced with the full truth of his past, would she look at him with fear and disgust? Had he inadvertently found a way to shove her away just when he’d decided to hold her close and not let go?

  Was she even now packing to leave or would she hit him with the full force of her temper the moment he stepped inside the condo? Braced for her attack, he cautiously opened the door. He’d gladly face her wrath if it meant he hadn’t fucked things up beyond repair, but he’d rather not have the coming conversation with a pen piercing his cheek.

  The kitchen and living areas were empty. He cocked his head and listened. Silence reached his ears. “Jessi?”

  No response.

  Crossing the living room, he stopped in the open bedroom doorway. She’d shed the coat she’d arrived in along with her shoes and was otherwise dressed in the jeans and silk blouse she been wearing this morning at Ryan’s. Curled on the bed with her eyes closed, she clutched the sexy red number she’d worn at the awards show to her chest. The rest of her wardrobe lay piled about her in heaps.

  The evidence she meant to leave landed a body blow, and he had to force himself to step forward and approach the bed. Her lashes fluttered open as he sat on the edge of the mattress.

  Pain hazed her eyes. “I’m mad at you.”

  “I know, baby.” He kept his voice soft and brushed a curl from her cheek. “Headache?”

  Her eyes slid shut. “Yes. As soon as it’s gone, I’m moving into the spare room.”

  His surprised breath flew out in a silent rush. Instant relief slumped his tensed shoulders. She wasn’t leaving. Not today, anyway. “Have you taken a pill?”

  She moaned. “Can’t find my purse.”

  He shifted to study the pile of clothing, doing his best not to jostle the mattress. Her purse was half hidden beneath a pair of jeans. He retrieved the bottle from inside and shook out a pill. “Open up.”

  She kept her eyes closed and did as instructed. He placed the pill on her tongue.

  He eyed the rumpled clothes she wore. “You’ll be much more comfortable out of those jeans.”

  She rolled to her back. “Too much effort.”

  “I’ll take them off for you.”

  Slits of blue suspicion gleamed at him from between her scrunched lashes, and he nearly laughed. He held up his hand instead.

  “I know. You’re mad at me. I promise I won’t even look.”

  Her eyes slid shut, and he took her lack of response as assent. Concern grew when she gave him no trouble as he shimmied the denim over her hips and down her legs. Although he watched, she never once checked to see if he kept his word, and her lack of interest proclaimed her level of discomfort. The moment she was free of the jeans, she curled onto her side in a ball.

  His heart contracted and he pulled the comforter over her shoulders, then sifted his fingers through the curls spread out on her pillow. “Sleep, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

  She said nothing in response, and he stood. Gathering an armload of her clothes, he transferred her things to the other bedroom. He’d much prefer they remain where they’d been, right next to his but, if she needed the small victory, he’d gladly give it to her. If things went as he hoped, her clothes would end up back in his closet eventually.

  When the task was done, he stood
beside the bed. Her cheeks were pale beneath the spray of her thick lashes, but her steady breathing proved she’d given in to sleep. Unable to resist, he shucked his clothes down to his briefs and slid into the bed beside her. His heart thumped a hopeful cadence as she rolled toward him in slumber and burrowed closer with a sigh.

  Nothing was settled between them, but she was still here. For now. She planned to take his advice and hire her own security. Fuck that. He had his work cut out for him if he was going to charm her into forgiving him, but if he had anything to say about it, the only bodyguard she’d have from now on was him.

  Chapter 28

  Jessi opened her eyes with a wide yawn, a full bladder, and a stomach rumbling with hunger. No surprise there. After the press conference yesterday, thoughts of dinner had fallen victim to seduction, and she’d been too frazzled to eat this morning. Spence’s declaration of love and tonight’s migraine had killed any appetite she might have had for lunch or dinner. After several hours of sleep, she was famished.

  She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed to stand. After taking care of business in the bathroom, she padded back into the bedroom. Her gaze snagged on the indentation creasing Max’s pillow, and she stumbled to a stop. Murky memories of curling up against his warm body tickled her mind. Had he crawled in beside her? She frowned. The sneak. God knew she had little willpower when he touched her, hell, looked at her. If she was going to keep him at arms-length long enough for him to prove he loved her, she’d have to avoid situations that allowed him to catch her off-guard—like when she was too groggy to stay on task.

  Blinking, she glanced around the room. Other than the pair of jeans she’d been wearing earlier, all her clothes were gone.

  “I was just about to wake you.” Her gaze flew to the doorway where Max paused, his brow puckered with concern. “How are you feeling? I was getting worried.”

  Worried? Why would he be worried? “I’m fine.” She snatched up her jeans and stepped into them.

  He cleared his throat. “Tim called a couple of times. I told him I wasn’t sure you were up to performing tonight.”

  She froze with her fingers clenched on the zipper and looked up. “Tonight? The Manhattan concert isn’t until Wednesday.”

  “Today is Wednesday.”

  She flicked her gaze to the darkened window and back. “No, it’s not.”

  He crossed the room. Concerned and searching, his gray eyes studied her face as if looking for signs of illness. “You’ve been asleep since you got back last night. Nearly eighteen hours. Why do you think I was getting worried?”

  Eighteen hours? “Oh my God.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “Because you were beat, baby, and needed the sleep.”

  The endearment and his crooning tone threatened her resolve. She mentally hardened her heart and went on attack. “What happened to my stuff?”

  He sighed and his shoulders slumped marginally. “Your things are in the guest room closet.”

  “Oh.”

  She dipped her head to hide her disappointment, averting her gaze as she zipped and closed the button of her jeans. She didn’t want to move into the other room. She wanted him to argue with her. Wanted him to admit he hated the idea of sleeping apart as much as she did. Wanted him to rage at her for clinging to her anger over a lie designed to keep her safe while ignoring his declaration of love.

  For years she’d been the one doing the chasing, yearning after a future with him. He’d said he was concerned he’d fucked up forever. It was time he man up and fought for the forever they both wanted, and needed, damn it.

  She lifted her face and met his gaze. “I’ll get out of your way then.”

  “Wait.” He gripped her elbow as she tried to walk past him.

  Pausing, she jacked up her chin as the breath caught in her throat.

  He released her elbow to cup her neck, massaging her nape with gently caressing fingers. Pleasurable chills chased over her skin.

  He stared at her and his eyes darkened with remorse. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have told you the truth weeks ago.”

  Relief and hope weakened her knees. Okay. Now they were getting somewhere. Suppressing a shiver at his warm touch, she stepped back out of his reach. “Why didn’t you? Damn it, Max. I came to you to help me get out from under that type of control.”

  His forehead wrinkled in a wince. “I know you did, but—”

  “A lie by omission is still a lie,” she pushed.

  “I was trying to—”

  “When you love someone, you don’t lie to them.” She lifted her chin and, in lieu of smacking him physically, she hit him with a verbal punch and prayed for all she was worth she wasn’t the one who ended up with the metaphorical black eye. “Then again, maybe you were lying when you claimed to love me.”

  The disappointment in his eyes took care of the remorse. Her pulse tripped into triple time.

  He stepped closer and dipped his head until they were eye to eye. “You’re entitled to be pissed because, yeah, I didn’t tell you the truth, but I agreed to your plan because I couldn’t live with the thought of you being hurt or worse.”

  She knew that, damn it, but what about later? If he loved her as he’d said, how could he live with her, share his body and heart with her, and not come clean about why he was there with her in the first place?

  “You didn’t want me to be hurt?” She snorted a harsh laugh. “Do you think your lying to me doesn’t hurt?” Bitterness seeped into her scoffing tone, and she crossed her arms. “That first night at Tuck’s, did you kiss me to keep me from calling off my boyfriend plan?”

  He straightened and his lashes swept down, shuttering his eyes. Although she’d already suspected the reason, his silent confirmation stabbed at her heart. She gulped air as the band of hurt crushing her chest tightened like a vise. “I see. Then tell me why I should believe your declaration of love wasn’t just another ruse to keep me in line.”

  His lashes lifted, his eyes and face going hard. “Everything I said to you the other night was the God’s honest truth. Goddamn it, Jessi. I admitted to killing a man. Do you think I’d disclose something like that if it wasn’t the truth?” He speared the fingers of one hand through his hair. “You have me so fucking tied up in knots I broke the first rule of the street. I told you shit I’ve never spoken about to another living soul. Shit you needed to know if we were ever going to have a chance together.”

  A chance together. Tears stung her eyes, and the breath lodged in her throat.

  “Obviously, I misread the situation, but I’m a grown man. I can handle the truth. Don’t use doubt over my declaration of love as an excuse.” He shook his head and his laugh was harsh. “If you’ve decided I’m not worth the effort, just say so. It’s no more than I expected.”

  “Max, I—”

  “They’re waiting for you at the theater.” He turned and stalked toward the door. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”

  * * * *

  Max broke off from his study of the crowd to slide his gaze to where Jessi and Spence waited to take the stage. Victor, the stage manager Max had met the night of the awards show, spoke to one of his minions. Spence reworked the crease of his Stetson. Pale as a wraith, Jessi performed her pre-show meditation. Though she’d soon no longer have to go through the process, the knowledge obviously gave her little ease. Even from a distance, her tension was evident.

  How much of that tension lay at Max’s feet, he wasn’t sure. When she’d finally come downstairs and they’d climbed into the back seat of the limo, she’d murmured a greeting to Dan before turning to stare out the window. The rest of the short ride had been steeped in an uncomfortable silence with Max left to wonder what she was thinking.

  She hadn’t corrected his suggestion, that she’d changed her mind about the two of them and, despite what he’d said about expecting her reaction, the reality left him more frustrated than he co
uld ever remember being. Jessi voiced her opinions. It wasn’t like her to hold back when she had something to say, and her silence spoke volumes.

  Obviously, her repeated claims that his past didn’t matter had crumbled to ashes beneath the ugly truth. Ego demanded he accept defeat with a shrug and move on. There were plenty of other women out there. True, none of them were Jessi, but neither would any of them find him wanting when all they required of him was a nice meal, a few laughs, and a good time in bed.

  As he’d known from the beginning, love judged. A street rat with shadows in his past was better off avoiding the emotion. Too fucking bad for him, his heart disagreed.

  The speakers came to life with the announcement of the headliners. Jessi’s eyes flew open, and the fear and panic in her blue gaze as she searched for and found Max was like a fist to the gut. Without her heart and mind in agreement, her instinctive trust in him would quickly fade. It would be best for both of them if he was gone before that happened.

  Spence held out his hand. She jumped and looked away. They took the stage to the roar of the crowd. Max gritted his teeth, prepared for the moment Spence would lift her hand for his kiss and was surprised when he skipped the ritual, dropped her hand as they hit their mark, and launched into song.

  Max arched a brow. He hadn’t had an opportunity to ask Jessi how Spence had taken the news of her retirement, but from the look of things, he wasn’t a happy man.

  “Where’s he going?”

  Max followed Tim’s gaze and narrowed his eyes on the young man slipping through one of the theater’s side doors toward backstage. “Isn’t that the kid from Jessi’s studio?”

  Tim nodded. “Craig. He’s the sound manager’s son. He’s got a thing for Jessi and shows up at her appearances all the time. He even showed up at your press conference, but I didn’t expect him to come tonight.”

  “Why not?” Max slid his gaze back to Jessi. As usual, her tension seemed to have melted away. She held the audience spellbound, crooning in perfect harmony with Spence.