Players

by Rachel Cross

  Michael overwhelmed her senses. His presence commanded attention. She suspected wherever he went, he stood out in the crowd. Not because of anything he said or did, but simply because of the confident way he carried himself. Like he didn’t care what other people thought. Yet there was an open honesty about him that completely disarmed her.

  Exactly what she shouldn’t trust.

  At the moment, with his strong body and all those muscles pressed against her, she couldn’t remember her name let alone why this was a bad idea. He held her so close her breasts brushed the solid wall of his chest. His muscular thighs glided against hers as they moved to the soft music. His scent—a mixture of soap and leather and something all male—enveloped her, filling her lungs in a heady rush every time she inhaled. For that moment, she felt . . . wrapped in him. A place she suddenly yearned to be.

  “So, who was it that broke your heart and sent you to a place like this to try to forget?” His voice came as a quiet hum in her ear, his breath warm against the sensitive lobe, sending tiny tremors down her spine. She didn’t fare any better when she pulled back to see his eyes. Those dark, liquid pools simmered with the desire pulsing through her. Yet something about them radiated an honest warmth that set her at ease.

  “You’re very perceptive.”

  “Been there.” He shrugged a shoulder in dismissal, but his eyes held truth. Someone had broken his heart once. The knowledge was yet another piece of him that seeped inside and gave her that sense of companionship.

  “I caught my fiancé with his assistant in his office. He was also my boss. I threw his ring in his face and quit my job. Just thinking about that day makes me angry all over again. I’d forgotten my purse and went back in, found him with his pants down around his ankles. They hadn’t even bothered to close his office door.”

  She lowered her gaze to the floor, the flush of humiliation heating her cheeks. How could she have been so naïve, so blind? Nick was from one of the most prominent families in town—wealthy, powerful. She’d been nothing but a plaything to him, a jaunt. A year of her life wasted.

  “His loss, if you ask me.” Michael’s voice rumbled low and husky beside her ear. Yanked from her thoughts, she refocused on the man who held her. A man whose intense gaze made her feel like the only woman in the room. Something, she admitted belatedly, Nick hadn’t ever made her feel.

  A warm smile tugged at the corners of Michael’s mouth. He winked. “But my gain.”

  As she stared up at him, it hit her. Her heart thundered in her ears, threatened to pound right out of her chest. Lisa was right. It was time to stop living in the shadows. Tonight she wanted freedom. That’s what Michael represented—a chance at freedom. With him, she didn’t have to pretend or worry what people would say. She could just be . . . Cat. Even if all they did was dance.

  Allowing herself the moment, she hesitantly pressed close and leaned her head against his chest. His arm tightened around her waist and enveloped her in his powerful embrace—an altogether disturbing place to be, simply because it felt so natural, so comfortable. The man filled her with warmth and set her at ease. The longer they swayed to the soft music, the more his arms were exactly where she wanted to be.

  “You don’t dance like a man who rides a motorcycle.”

  “How’d you know I ride?” His voice rumbled through his chest, his heart hammering beneath her ear, telling her she wasn’t the only one affected by their proximity.

  She lifted her head, peering up at him. “Lucky guess.”

  “Have you ever ridden?” Something intense flashed in his eyes.

  She nodded. “Once, when I was little. My mother’s boyfriend. We crashed, and I broke my arm.” She shuddered at the memory. She spent a week in the hospital afterward. They were beautiful machines, and she’d never forgotten the joy and freedom of riding, but the sight of one still made her hesitate. “Had a fear of them ever since.”

  He went silent, for so long she swore she heard the wheels of his mind turning. Finally, he leaned his head beside her ear. “You’d be safe with me.” He whispered the words, his lips moving against her sensitive earlobe, sending shivers down her spine.

  His words inspired the images: seated behind him, her entire front pressed intimately against his back. If she closed her eyes, she could feel all of his muscles as she wound her arms around him and held on tight. The thrill of the wind in her hair, the engine beneath her, and a gorgeous man to cling to . . .

  Those dark eyes once again caught and held her a willing prisoner. “Is that a promise?”

  He shook his head, his gaze simmering with the promise of the moment. “No. I could just as easily get sideswiped by some idiot on a cell phone. Have, actually. Sometimes you have to be willing to take a chance. If you don’t, then you’re not really living.”

  A tremor ran through her, a mixture of fear and excitement racing up her spine at the familiar words. It had to be a sign.

  Everything she’d ever learned growing up screamed at her to tell him no. This wasn’t her. She normally would never do something as daring this, and Michael wasn’t normally her type. But wasn’t that the point? To be someone else for the night? To be free?

  Michael tugged her imperceptibly closer. “Take a ride with me, Cat.”

  His tone all but begged her to say yes. His gaze burned into hers. Was he pondering the thought of her clinging to his back like a second skin? The feel of her hands holding him close?

  Another shiver slid down her spine, this one pooling warm and delicious in her belly. “I’d love to.”

  Chapter Two

  “Here, put this on.”

  Standing with Cat on the edge of the sidewalk outside the bar, Michael Brant slid his jacket from his shoulders and extended it to her. For early June, it was a balmy night, warmer than usual, and the sky was clear. A perfect night for a ride. The town was quiet; the only noise came from the pounding music behind them.

  “In case we crash.” Cat eyed his jacket as he closed the small distance between them, and although she offered a teasing smile, a distinct hint of fear sparked in her eyes.

  Beautiful jade eyes framed by long, dark lashes that made her appear every bit as exotic as the scent clinging to her skin. Subtle yet powerful all the same, the fragrance reminded him of warmed spices. Something about it made him want to bury his face in her neck.

  That scent and those eyes. He’d been hooked the minute she turned around on that barstool. Instead of heading to the back of the club to find his older brother, the way he’d intended, he hung around. He’d come to Roadie’s to get the low-down from Gabe before he had to head to the hospital in the morning. He wanted to know what he was walking into before he went to see his father. Then he’d collided with the unchecked desire in those gorgeous eyes. Had felt it in her kiss. He hadn’t been able to resist their temptation.

  “You have a little too much skin showing for my taste.” As he swung the jacket around behind her and set it on her shoulders, he offered a reassuring smile. “’Course, it’d make me feel a lot better if you were wearing pants, but we’ll make do with what we’ve got.” He winked, hoping to set her at ease, earning himself a soft smile that lit up those eyes.

  “If I’d known I was going for a ride with you when I left the house tonight, I might have worn jeans.” She shoved her arms through the sleeves, a conspiratorial sparkle in her eyes, then turned to his bike. Head bent, she walked the length from the rear fender to the front wheel, dragging her fingers along the hills and valleys of leather and metal.

  Michael’s gut knotted as he watched her. The sight of her in his jacket tugged at something deep inside. It swamped her small, slender form and hung clear past her rump. Her hands had gotten lost in the sleeves, but it looked oddly right on her. Some part of him insisted he shouldn’t be here with her. He didn’t need any more complications right now. He’d come home to put his past to rest, and he didn’t need any distractions while he was here.

  As Cat rounded the front fender and
stepped off the curb into the street, she tossed a smile over her shoulder. “You have a nice bike, Michael.”

  On anybody else, that look might have been an obvious flirt, a woman teasing, playing coy. On her it was simple and honest.

  Which summed up what about her caught him like a fish on a hook. She had a sweet, innocent quality about her. Most women would have decked that guy in the bar, but Cat appeared to be out of her element. He’d bet money she was loyal and soft-hearted, the kind of woman a man found waiting for him when he came home at night. Whatever her motive for being here with him, she didn’t appear to be playing games. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had been straight up with him. Which made her irresistible.

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Thanks. I’m fond of her.”

  Cat had a slow, easy gait as she moved around the back of the bike, still trailing her fingers. His gaze riveted to the gentle sway of her hips, the way the light material of her skirt swirled around her delicate ankles. She walked with fluid grace, each step light and smooth and completely mesmerizing. He’d be quite satisfied to stand here and watch her pace the sidewalk.

  “So, how’s a guy like you get his hands on a bike like this, anyway?” Coming full circle, she rounded the rear fender and stepped up onto the curb, stopping a few feet in front of him. “Looks custom. Bikes likes these aren’t cheap.”

  Michael couldn’t stop his stupid grin. Cat had to be the only person in Crest Point who didn’t seem to have any idea who he was. A fact he found entirely too alluring. He craved anonymity, for someone to see him through new eyes without pre-conceived ideas. He hadn’t anticipated finding that in Crest Point. The last time he was here, people shunned him. People with broken hearts who still blamed him for a horrible tragedy. Hell, he still blamed himself.

  Cat just looked at him like a man. With her, he could be himself, disconnected from his family’s name and the past that haunted him. Even if it was only a few precious hours, he wanted to revel in the time he had with her.

  “You know this how?” He cocked a brow as he leaned around her to pluck his helmet from where it hung off the handlebars. His body brushed hers, her slender curves pressing lightly along his length from her chest down to her thighs.

  It was a closeness he knew she noticed as well, for her widened eyes searched his. Her breathing hitched, her chest rising and falling at an increasingly rapid pace. Twice her gaze dropped to his mouth, her tongue slipping out to wet her lower lip.

  “My mom dated a guy who owned a bike shop.” Her voice came out breathy and distracted as she peered at him.

  “The same one who crashed?” He straightened, forced himself to take a step back, before he startled them both by kissing her again. The first time had been a playful tease. She’d captured his attention, and he’d pressed his luck. He hadn’t expected her to respond, to kiss him back.

  She had built a yearning deep in his gut to taste her again. To feel her moan and lean into him, wrap her body around his. She reminded him too well how long it had been since he last held a woman. God, how he missed the feel of soft, feminine curves against him while he slept. And here she was, staring up at him with a soft but no less potent desire in her eyes.

  Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, for a moment looking every bit as leveled by the attraction as he felt. She cleared her throat and nodded, a stunning mixture of amusement and challenge sparking in her eyes. “So?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I built it?” Accepting the challenge and tossing it back at her, he cocked a brow as he held the bike helmet out to her.

  As she took the helmet, her gaze slid over him, to his feet and back up. “I could see that. You don’t have the hands of a mechanic, though. Too soft. I expected you to tell me you worked in some corporate office somewhere and that riding was a pastime.”

  A laugh escaped him at the irony of her statement. His father wished he worked in a corporate office, had expected both his sons to come into the family business. That Michael not only hadn’t but worked with his hands like some unskilled laborer irked the old man to no end.

  “Riding’s not a pastime. It’s a lifestyle.” He winked and stuffed his free hand into his pocket, fishing out his keys. “You could say I splurged. I built it ten years ago. Don’t need much, frankly. Give me a roof over my head and a bed to sleep on and I’m happy. The rest of the money I earned went into this bike.”

  Okay, so that was mostly the truth. He owned a condo in L.A., furnished only with what he needed to live on, and everything he had, he’d earned himself. He left this town ten years ago with nothing more than the jacket on his back and the bike beneath him, determined to prove to his father—the town and himself—he wasn’t the screw-up everybody assumed him to be. He purposely left out the wealth he’d amassed in the last ten years. He’d built his company from the ground up and had done rather well for himself.

  None of which he wanted her to know. At least not now, not tonight. Tonight he simply wanted to be himself.

  “A simple man.” Her expression softened; warmth radiated from her eyes.

  “Mm.” He slid around her and stepped up to the bike, mounting it and releasing the kickstand before looking over at her.

  She remained frozen on the sidewalk, the helmet tucked under one arm. Uncertainty flashed in the depths of her eyes. Her expression left him caught. It dragged up a protectiveness he hadn’t felt in years. He had an overwhelming desire to take her in his arms and soothe her fear. Yet while he knew her fear was likely aimed at his bike, it reminded him too much of the looks he garnered walking through town ten years ago. The expression lodged in his gut as being all kinds of wrong and made him more determined to wipe it from her eyes permanently. Earning her trust suddenly became very important.

  “I can take you home if you like. Or call you a cab. The choice is yours.”

  “Where are we going?”

  His house immediately popped into his mind. “I have a place out on the beach. It’s quiet and peaceful, but it’s dark and the place is private, so I’ll understand if you decide you’d rather go home.”

  She fingered the chinstrap on the helmet for a moment. “Should I be afraid of you?”

  His gut knotted. He didn’t want her to leave, didn’t want to take her home. He wanted to spend the night reveling in those beguiling eyes, but the choice had to be hers and hers alone. “No. I’m as harmless as they come. I don’t even kill spiders, and I hate the little buggers. You shouldn’t take my word for it, though. Women get hurt all the time in L.A. falling for lines like that.”

  She quirked a brow, amusement lighting her eyes. “A man who’s afraid of spiders?”

  He grinned. That she chose to focus on his fear of spiders spoke volumes.

  “Can’t stand ’em. They give me the creeps. With their million legs and furry little bodies.” In spite of himself, a shiver ran the length of his spine.

  Apparently she caught the reaction because her smile widened. “How do you get them outside without touching them?”

  “Trap ’em in a jar. Vacuum works in a pinch, too.” He winked.

  She laughed, the sound light, airy, and music to his ears. With a stubborn lift of her chin, she plunked the helmet on her head and fastened the chinstrap, those eyes flashing. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

  He twisted at the waist and patted the seat behind him. “Take a walk on the wild side with me.”

  She gripped handfuls of her skirt and Michael’s gaze glued to the movement. Inch by inch she hiked the soft, flowing material above her knees, revealing shapely calves and the bottom halves of taut thighs. Her skin was untouched by the sun, creamy and smooth. As she swung one gorgeous leg over the bike and sank onto the seat behind him, he tightened his grip on the handlebars to keep from reaching out and stroking her thigh.

  When her hands circled his waist, he swallowed hard. The thought of those sleek, bare thighs resting against his backside had his body aching and tensing in a most primal way.


  He shoved the key into the ignition, then glanced back over his shoulder at her. “Hold on tight and lean with me into the turns.”

  She nodded. The delicious feel of her warm body filled his back, and he was distinctly aware of her breasts pressed against him. The woman tempted him, like candy offered to a kid, and damned if he could resist, no matter how much he knew he ought to.

  Twenty minutes later, Michael pulled into the short, gravel driveway in front of the darkened two-story house. The place sat at the edge of town in a neighborhood consisting of maybe a dozen homes, all lining a two-mile long stretch of beach. The Pacific Ocean rolled for miles beyond.

  As he cut the engine, Cat’s breathless voice purred in his ear. “That was incredible.”

  He didn’t need to see her face to know a grin went along with her enthusiastic tone. He shot a smile over his shoulder. It had been a quiet ride, with her simply clinging to his back. The night was warm, the sky clear, making for a beautiful trip. Reluctant to relinquish the feeling, he’d been tempted to take the back roads around the outskirts of town. Too bad the gravelly roads were filled with sharp curves. Combined with the fact her skirt left her skin unprotected, he hadn’t wanted to take the chance.

  “I forgot what a rush that is.” She released his waist, slid from the bike, and pulled off the helmet. His momentary disappointment evaporated as quickly as it came when she handed it to him, then tipped her head back and ran her slender fingers through her hair. The way he longed to.

  She turned then and all but skipped up the gravel driveway, a childlike gait that had him smiling, in spite of himself.

  He folded his arms across his chest and watched her for a moment. That look right there would make his entire stay in Crest Point worth every minute. He wanted to make her smile like that again—and often.

  She stopped halfway up the driveway, tipped her head back, and held her arms out, as if offering her thanks to the sky. “The roar of the engine in my ears, nothing but us and the road.”

  “I won’t say I told you so.” He hung the helmet off the handlebars.