Players

by Rachel Cross

  Clutching his chest, he winced. “You’re breaking my heart, Peaches! And I’m a pretty straightforward guy. I can’t think of a time when—”

  Tiana folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “You stole my highlighters and notes in grad school. Then you left a ransom note stating that it was in the pants of the most handsome guy in class. You somehow read my essay about my fear of . . . of—” She turned away from him. “You know what.”

  “Clowns, Tiana. C-L-O-W-N-S. If you say it out loud, they have less power over you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered-hissed. “Clowns. Whatever. So, all of that is to say ‘I don’t trust you.’” Narrowing her eyes, she swiveled her attention to her computer screen.

  “In that entire rant and the history of our . . . whatever it is or was, when have I lied? When I borrowed your notes and highlighters, I left a note to let you know who had them. And as a friend, I wanted you to get over your fear of clow—”

  Tiana swatted his leg. “At least get off my desk before you lie. You did that to humiliate me. Ha ha. Tiana Holliday, top of her class, brought down by her fear of clowns.”

  Nathaniel sighed and leaned closer, but he needed to move away. A waft of her delicious scent permeated the air, clouding his thoughts. Her fitted red skirt, stretched across her luscious thighs, begged to be gripped.

  Instead of touching her thighs, he settled for a comprise and reached out to caress her cheek. Fire ignited his fingertips.

  She sucked in a breath, looked away, and cleared her throat.

  She may hate me, but her body doesn’t. He smirked. Another victory for him. And more to come.

  “I never lied to you. The first time we partnered on the business case project, what did I say to you?”

  Tiana attempted to slide away, but he moved in closer, eyes focused on her.

  “What did I say?” He gentled his tone, hoping to coax out an answer.

  She looked up and away, as if scrolling through her memories.

  I remember. An unseasonably hot day in October. Her clothes had clung to her like a child unwilling to leave their mother. She hadn’t hidden the fact that she was mildly pissed they were partners. He’d overheard her talking to a fellow classmate, a mousy girl who told Tiana she was sorry that they had ended up paired together.

  He knew they’d assumed things about him, something he’d faced all his life. Somewhat smart, very charming, and extremely good-looking. And like the jocks and pretty boys that had used them in high school and college, Tiana and Mousy Girl had assumed that she would end up doing all the work. She’d misjudged him, and he wasn’t afraid to prove her wrong and let her know it. It still pissed him off, because even today his coworkers assumed the same thing. But when I get this promotion, I’ll prove them all wrong.

  “Tiana . . . ” He refocused on the matter at hand. “What did I say?”

  “That I was prissy and cold and needed to remove the stick from my ass and enjoy life.”

  “That’s right,” he said as if praising a student. He imagined her in a short plaid skirt, a ponytail, and knee socks. Focus, man!

  “To recap . . . ” He finally removed his blazing fingers from her warm skin. “I never lied to you, and you did need to remove that stick from your ass. I thought that back in grad school I’d at least loosened the stick, but something must have happened because it’s lodged right back in there.”

  Moving away, she shot him the bird. “Stop referring to my ass and sticks.”

  “If the stick fits,” he replied and ducked when she threw a Post-it pad at his head. “Secondly,” he returned to the conversation, “you need to loosen up and have fun. And now that I’ve won the bet, I’ll make sure when we aren’t working our asses off that we’re having a good time.”

  “But we—”

  “Nope. No excuses.” He sliced his hand in the air. “You trusted me enough to agree to my terms, and on Saturday, we begin.” He slowly surveyed her. “Wear something comfortable.”

  Chapter Seven

  A shoe with no heel. Tiana examined the pair of blue-jean-colored flats Mel had thrust into her hands. What a weird and curious notion. Sure, she’d worn tennis shoes when running, which wasn’t often. A girly-girl through and through, one of her life rules was to never buy shoes lower than three inches in heel height.

  But here she was, bent over and seated on the living room sofa, tying these shoes. Tiana attempted to bunny ear the laces the way she’d taught her twin brother and sister nearly fifteen years ago before her bestie slapped her hands away.

  Mel snorted and chuckled. “You don’t tie this type of shoe, missy.” She bent over to untie Tiana’s hard-won knot.

  “Then how in the hell am I’m supposed to not trip on my laces, fall on my face, and die?”

  Mel threw her head back and laughed, curls sliding to her shoulders. “Oh, how the tables have turned. Do you remember when you forced me to wear stilettos when I moved to New York? How I told you I could trip and get run over by a crazy cabbie? What did you say to me, dearest Tiana?”

  Tiana wanted to chuck the shoes at her friend. And what was up with people reminding her of the past? The past should stay in the past.

  Melanie took a deep breath. “You said—”

  “I said if you did, at least you’d die in style. And I stand behind my earlier statement. However, these . . . ” She waved down at the flats. “Although expensive, are no kind of cute. Onlookers who witness my demise would take one look at these and think, aww does the poor single lady with sensible footwear have a boyfriend? And someone would say, ‘No, but she probably has a cat.’”

  “Ha ha!” Mel jerked Tiana’s feet to her lap, pulled the strings too tight for comfort, and tucked the laces in. “Yet the owner of these cat-lady shoes has a fiancé who loves her to pieces.”

  “Touché.”

  “Right.” Mel pushed Tiana’s feet off her lap. “Now that we’ve got the shoe thing settled, tell me more about your date.”

  “It’s not a date. It’s following through on a wager.” Groaning, Tiana titled her head toward the ceiling.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She threw up her hands. “The maggot won’t tell me where we’re going or what we’re doing. He just told me to dress comfortably and be prepared for . . . ” She dropped her voice to mimic his baritone voice. “Fun.”

  “That sounds like . . . ” Mel dropped her voice to match Tiana/Nathaniel’s voice. “Fun.” She laughed. “We sound like those insurance commercials. You know, the ones with that guy who tried to hook up with Whitney in “Waiting to Exhale” but was already married?”

  “Yeah. The Allstate commercials.” Tiana stood, stretched her arms, and walked toward her room. “Well, I better go touch up my face. Nathaniel will be here shortly.”

  “Waiiittt a minute. He’s coming to pick you up?” Mel’s voice took on an irritating bird-in-the-morning chirp.

  “Yet another one of his requirements for our day of fun. He said if he gave me the address, it would spoil the surprise.”

  A loud buzz from the intercom near the door startled her. She looked at Mel, and her roommate squinted back.

  She wouldn’t dare.

  She dared. Mel jumped from the sofa. Tiana tried to tackle her, but Mel was too fast.

  Pressing the intercom, Melanie, in an out-of-breath voice, said, “Tiana and Melanie’s house of pleasure. You tell us the fantasy, and we’ll give you the—”

  Tiana slapped her roomie’s finger off the intercom. “Oh. Em. Gee. Stop it!”

  A smooth rumbly laugh drifted from the intercom and filled the room. Tiana clenched her legs together, and Mel mouthed, “Hot!”

  “Well, isn’t that a coincidence, because I’m in the fantasy industry, too. But since you’re asking, I’m—”

  “Nathaniel.” Tiana served up her frostiest, imperial tone. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

  “Guess I’ll have to loosen that stick again,” he mumbled.

  • • •

&nb
sp; Nathan smothered a laugh as he looked at his increasingly nervous coworker beside him, fidgeting with her purse strap. He pointed toward the fluorescent blue-and-pink Ferris wheel “We’re gonna do that first.”

  Shaking her head, Tiana dug her heels deeper into the sandy ground. “Sorry you wasted money on tickets. But as I told you when you dragged me from the car to the ticket stand and through the gates, I don’t do carnivals.”

  He looked down at her and sighed. Jesus, that stick has to be lodged in her throat by now. “And why don’t you like carnivals?”

  “Kids. Germs. Crowds. Germs. Germs are worth repeating again.” She shrugged. “Need I say more?”

  A breeze teased and tossed her hair. Desire slowly burned in his chest.

  Normally, that would’ve been one of many things to remember and stow away, but the first reason she didn’t do fairs had him frozen cold in place.

  She didn’t like kids. Just like Renita.

  “I take it you don’t do kids, either.” His voice was as cold as he felt on the outside, and he didn’t give a damn. He shouldn’t give a damn about Tiana’s likes and dislikes, but he did.

  Blinking slowly, she tucked hair behind her ears. “No, I—”

  “No, you don’t like kids?” Nathan interrupted.

  “Yes, I mean no.” She huffed and placed a hand on her hip. “I mean, geez, Nathaniel, yes I like kids just fine! I just don’t like them at the fair. I remember when Mel and I took my twin brother and sister. They were normally sweet, nice, and respectful children. But at the fair, they were monsters. Sticky fingers. Death-trap rides they had no business on. And candy. Oh my God, it’s like giving Gremlins food after midnight!” She shuddered, and Nathan relaxed his tense shoulders.

  “I didn’t know you had brothers and sisters. How many?”

  “Just those two. They’re twenty-one, and I practically raised them.”

  Nathan took her hand and, surprisingly, she didn’t pull back. “Wow, really? What about your parents?”

  “My dad died before I was born, and Katherine wasn’t . . . isn’t mother material. I heard she kind of lost it after my father died. Anyway, she kind of marches to the beat of her own drum. Doesn’t really like being bogged down. But hey, she had me, and I persuaded her to keep Courtney and Casey.” Tiana laughed but sounded embarrassed. Looking down at their interlocked hands, she pulled away.

  “Well, anyway, let’s go on a ride.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “The Ferris wheel, right?”

  He smothered the laughter that bubbled. She’d rather get on a death trap than talk about her past and hold his hand. “Yeah, the Ferris wheel.” He grabbed her hand again, winked, and walked them to the ride.

  • • •

  Big, tacky, and loud. An oversized lime-green teddy bear. Tiana wanted it. She tried to pass by the games without giving away the fact that she’d never owned a stuffed animal. But Nathaniel, always observant, must’ve seen her look at the bear more than once because he grabbed her hand and then dragged her to the game.

  Slamming down a twenty, he motioned to the young, bored operator with overly gelled hair. The teen whipped his head to fling long bangs from his eyes. “Five dollars a game. Get the ball in the hoop and win.”

  She’d seen too many suckers waste money on the rigged games. “That’s only four chances. Don’t waste your money on this.”

  “I got this.” He clapped and spread his hands toward the teenager. “Ball.”

  The young man passed it to Nathaniel, and he immediately released it. The ball sailed and swished into the basket. Same thing three more times.

  She clapped and jumped up and down. “You’re . . . amazing!”

  Nathaniel grinned, and the boy behind the counter snorted. Nathaniel jerked his chin. “I’m guessing you want Big Green right?”

  She nodded. “Right.”

  “Can you get my la . . . my friend the ugly green bear?”

  “Yeah.” The kid smacked his gum and reached for a long brown stick. Lifting the bear from the hook, he plopped it down in front of her. “There ya go.”

  “Thank you!” She hefted the four-foot bear and squeezed it to her chest. “I shall call you Mr. Beary.”

  Nathaniel and the bored kid both looked at her—the kid like she was the weird creepy cat lady she feared she would become in flat shoes, and Nathaniel like he wanted to be Mr. Beary.

  Clearing his throat, he plucked the bear from her arms.

  “Hey! Give him back!”

  He laughed. “You can’t even walk with this thing. I’ll carry it. Let’s get you that cotton candy you’ve been going on and on about and call it a day.”

  Disappointment bloomed and settled like a cold weight in her stomach. She looked up. The pretty blue sky had faded into dusk, and she shivered from the temperature drop. They must have been at the fairgrounds for at least four hours.

  “I suppose you’re right. Cotton candy then home. But as soon as we get inside the car, I want Mr. Beary back.”

  “Well, well, well . . . the unflappable Ms. Tiana gets mushy over stuffed bears. Don’t tell me you have a collection of stuffed animals on your bed?”

  Ducking her head, she chuckled as they walked to the cotton candy stand. “No, I never had toys or stuffed animals. Well, not for long. We moved around a lot when I was little. Didn’t really stop until Mom had the twins in Atlanta. Anyway, toys would always go missing when we moved, so I never got attached to anything.” She’d later figured out that Katherine had pawned the toys when money was low. Tiana ducked her head, face flooding with heat.

  He cleared his throat. “So Mr. Beary is your . . . your first?”

  A gasp escaped, and her mouth went dry. Why in the hell did he always make innocent things so damn naughty? Or was it just all on her? At the cotton candy stand, the stark contrast of bright fluorescent light against the dark sky made her eyes squint.

  “What’ll it be?” the stout man behind the counter shouted to them.

  Her mouth watered. “Pink and blue for me, please, in an extra-large bag.” As she stared at the spool that spun the sugary goodness on the cardboard roll, Nathaniel’s stare heated her. He bent his six-foot-three frame so his lips were near her ears. “Glad I got to have a first with you, Peaches.”

  Chapter Eight

  Tiana hung his suits on the back of the office door, and Nathaniel inspected his dry cleaning. “No wrinkles.” Leaning in, he sniffed. “No weird smells,” his deep voice rumbled.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Nathaniel. A bet is a damn bet. I fulfilled my stupid duties.” God, it’s only been a week!

  “You did well, Peaches. Now as a reward, I have a treat for you.”

  Her heart sped. Not in anticipation. “What is it?” she asked slowly.

  He twisted his lips and smiled. A devil-may-care, I’ve-just-done-something-bad smile. Her stomach dipped.

  He is up to no good.

  “As a reward for your hard work, you’re getting a massage.”

  Tiana shook her head. “I don’t want a reward. Unless you want to end the bet sooner.”

  “Nope. I have twenty-one days left and intend on using all of them. And this appointment isn’t optional. Be there Saturday at three-thirty. I’ll send you directions tomorrow.”

  “Soooo . . . ” Tilting her head, she narrowed her eyes. “You aren’t setting me up, are you? Like, I’m not going to end up in a back-alley, seedy parlor that gives happy endings, right?”

  “What in the hell are you talking about, Peaches? You think I would let your precious ass near a place like that?”

  Shrugging, she returned to her desk. Honestly, she had no idea what he was capable of.

  • • •

  Nathan lit the last candle and smoothed the fabric on the massage table. His frat brother’s wife was a masseuse. After assuring her that he wouldn’t do any freaky deaky shit that would require her to bleach her board and light candles for his soul—her words, not his—she let him borrow the table.

/>   He’d arranged for a car to pick up Tiana, since she didn’t have a car and told her that it was an exclusive spa. Ha. She’d probably take one look at his swanky condo and know just what he’d prepared. And that was all a part of his master plan. The cell phone vibrated in his back pocket. Picking it up, he recognized the front desk number.

  “Mr. Lawson. A Ms. Holliday is here to see you,” the concierge said in his crisp British accent.

  “Yes, Mr. Weatherby. Please send her up.”

  “Very well, and . . . ” The proper voice dropped to a whisper. “Might I be so bold as to add that she does not seem in the best of moods.”

  His ever-efficient front doorman often seemed like a stiff and stuffy butler, but he had a quick, dry wit and was an excellent judge of character.

  “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Weatherby, but I assure you I’ll be fine.”

  “Very well. I’ll send her up immediately.”

  Nathan dimmed the lights and rushed to the door. Tiana’s hurried and angry steps echoed, which was impressive because the carpet was like memory foam. Before she could lift a hand to pound on the door, he opened it.

  “Welcome to House of Happy Hands.”

  “Really?” Sighing, she leaned against the doorframe. “Are you really going to use this bet to torture me? I thought you wanted to reward me.” She dipped her fingers in air quotes.

  “I do.” He yanked her inside before she could protest any more.

  Stepping to the side, he swept his hands across the living room. “Massage table, candlelight, oils, and me.”

  She scanned the room with a weary expression and clutched the belt on her khaki trench coat.

  He scanned her bare legs. Damn. I could use Superman’s x-ray vision right about now.

  He raised his hands, palms out. “I promise, no funny stuff. And didn’t you want me to be your slave if you had won? If I were truly your slave, wouldn’t I be the one working out your kinks?”

  “I . . . I don’t know, Nathaniel.”

  Stepping closer, he moved her hands away from the belt she was gripping like a lifeline. She stared at her feet.