by Koko Brown
“The purse, bitch,” he snarled. A whiff of alcohol fumes singed her nose. What had this guy been drinking? Everclear?
“You want the purse?” Gemma fingered her keys in her trapped hand, and the handle of the purse with the other. She lifted the purse, but at the last moment, she hauled back her arm and smashed him in the face.
Taken by surprise, he stumbled backward, releasing her. Given an opening, Gemma slammed her hand on the gate latch locking it.
Without wasting a moment, she charged up the brick walkway. “Come on, come on,” she breathed, her hand shaking violently as she jammed the door key into the lock. The door knob turning in her hand, she blinked back tears. Because of the blood pounding in her ears, she didn’t hear her assailant. Instead, she concentrated on getting her behind inside, her foot landing on the WELCOME door mat as he crashed into her, so hard they tumbled to the floor.
“Bloody he—”
The wind rushed out of Gemma’s lungs. Her head ricocheted on the scuffed hardwood floor, and she shuddered, feeling woozy. A second later something warm oozed down her temple onto her cheek.
“You could have made this easy,” he growled. He straddled her thighs, his body weight pinning her to the floor. “You scream or move, and I’ll cut you.” The cold blade ran along her cheek, but Gemma was so out of it she just laid there, fighting to keep the sushi down and wondering why she had four hands.
“I swear you have the sweetest ass.” Chuckling, he moved his hands over her skirt, slowly lifting it.
Gemma moaned. I’m going to be sick.
“Don’t be sore, love. I’m gonna take the purse and a little bit more. Let’s have a look.” He slid the knife against her hip beneath the material of her panties and cut along the seam.
“Please…don’t do this,” Gemma mumbled.
“But you gave me no other choice,” he said, squeezing her butt cheek and then slapping it. “It’s time we have some fun. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for black birds.”
Dazed, Gemma tried to dredge up some strength, a will to fight, but she could barely keep her eyes open.
“Hey, what’s going on here?”
“Help…” Gemma heard herself say as if from a distance. Her whispered plea blending in with her neighbor’s Staffordshire bull terrier barking like crazy, the scuffling of feet, and the crash of her front door banging against the wall.
One minute she was pinned to the floor, the next she felt almost weightless. Taking advantage of her freedom, Gemma struggled to sit up. Barely upright, she groaned when something heavy landed in her lap. Pepper, her neighbor’s dog. Needy, like most bitches tended to be, she proceeded to lick her makeup off.
“Pep,” her neighbor, Timothy, admonished from the doorway. He bent down, a handkerchief in his hand. “You’ve got a nasty gash there.” He touched the cut above her eye and another wave of dizziness swept over her. Before she passed out, Gemma pulled her purse onto her lap.
“I need to call 112,” she said, pulling her cell from her bag. Tears started to flow as she punched in the numbers. If it wasn’t for her neighbor, she would have been raped.
“Hello,” a man answered on the other end.
“I…uh…I have an emergency. I was assaulted and I need the police…and possibly the paramedics. I have a nasty gash over my eye. ”
“Gemma?”
Stunned, Gemma looked at the phone. How did the operator already know her name?
“Yeah,” she whispered.
“What happened?”
Crap! She didn’t call the emergency operator, she’d accidently speed dialed Devin.
“This guy,” she swallowed to keep from breaking down. “This guy tried to take my purse. I refused you know because the bag cost me fifteen hundred bloody pounds. A girl deserved to treat herself every now and then. So…he attacked me.”
“Give me your address.”
Gemma wasn’t sure why she consented, but her address tumbled from her lips.
“I’ll call the police. You sit tight and lock the door. Is anyone with you?”
Still somewhat out of it, she nodded into the cell phone.
“Gemma?”
“Yeah, my neighbor, Timothy, is here.”
“Can he sit with you until I get there?”
Gemma glanced at Timothy. “Can you stay with me until the bobbies arrive?”
Timothy nodded. “He’ll stay,” she mumbled as she curled her legs beneath her. “Really Devin, you don’t have to come.”
But she was already talking to a dead line.
***
Vaguely, Gemma could hear voices conferring around her, Pepper lay at her feet and a particularly dogged female inspector kept asking her the same questions. Fed up and needing some fresh air, Gemma moved to stand.
Barely out of her seat, she stalled. Devin stood on the edge of her family room talking with one of the detectives. A dark expression mottled his handsome face and he was scowling directly at her.
Sufficiently debriefed, he stalked toward her. Gulping Gemma sat back down. The female detective must have sensed the anger rolling off him as well because she scrambled off the couch. Pepper followed, opting to keep her owner company.
Devin crouched down in front of her, his hands settling on either side of her. Still dressed in the t-shirt and cargos he’d worn earlier, he had a bad case of bed head. Dishevelment looked great on him, made him more handsome, and oh so fuckable.
“Are you okay?” His eyes zeroed in on the butterfly bandage above her brow.
Feeling self-conscious, Gemma reached up and brushed her fingers against the tape used to close the shallow gash. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she mumbled. She deserved to be ripped into, she could’ve been raped or worse.
“Good. We’ll talk in the car.”
Gemma frowned. “In the car? Where are we going?”
“Go upstairs and pack an overnight bag. You’re coming home with me.”
“I-I’m going to my mum’s.”
“Isn’t she away on a cruise?”
Gemma nodded. Wait. How did he know her parents were on a cruise?
“You’re staying with me, Gemma. Now go throw some things in a bag.”
Far from being a doormat, she held her ground. “How do you know my mother is out of town?”
Devin glanced over his shoulder. He had a right to be cagey. Every single person was zeroed in on their conversation.
“Do you want our conversation to be on the Daily Mail?”
Gemma nibbled on her bottom lip. “I’ll go pack a bag,” she consented, but not liking it one bit.
Devin gripped the Panamera’s steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Better than wringing Gemma’s neck. Tonight, she’d given him the biggest fright of his life. Unable to hold his tongue any longer, he turned slightly toward her. Just enough to keep his eyes on the road, but also convey he meant business.
“What were you thinking?”
She took so long to answer he stole a glance at her. Her plump bottom lip was clamped between her teeth as she traced an invisible circle on the window.
“Too stupid to live?”
“Beyond stupid.” Devin squeezed the leather steering wheel tighter. “And over a bleedin’ purse.”
Devin eyed the kelly green bag perched in her lap. Growing angrier by the second, he suddenly picked it up and turned it upside down.
“What are you doing?” Her wallet, house keys, several pens, an eye glass case, a dozen receipts, and a tube of lipstick landed in her lap.
“Teaching you a lesson.” Before she could guess his next move, he rolled down the window and tossed the bag into the road.
She leaned up, looking out the rear window. “Do you know how much that bag cost?” She emphasized ‘cost’ with a solid punch to his arm, but nothing could spoil the pleasure of chucking the overpriced lump of leather out the window.
“Did it cost more than almost being raped? How about your life?”
Reality setting in
, Gemma slumped in her seat.
Safely ensconced in one of Devin’s guest rooms, Gemma took a quick shower and changed into a pair of pajamas. White and frilly, her sleepwear consisted of a sleeveless blouse and matching shorts. Perfect for the weather and being home alone, her pajamas exposed too much skin for mixed company.
Devin didn’t look up when she entered the living room. His eyes remained fixed on the sixty-inch flat screen television while he clicked through channels. He sat in one of the club chairs, a bottle of ale rested at his elbow. He’d taken a shower as well because his hair was still damp and brushed back from his face. Shirtless, he lounged spread-eagled in a pair of dark blue trainers.
His tattoos were much more extensive than she previously assumed. Both arms sported sleeves, several lines of script ran along his rib cage and a heart-shaped lock, with a key dangling from it, covered his pectoral muscle.
“Feeling better?” Still not looking at her, he continued to flip through channels.
“A hundred percent better. Even though I was strong armed into staying here, I appreciate your hospitality.” Gemma sat down on the sofa and curled her legs under her. Feeling somewhat exposed, she eyed a decorative throw slung over the arm of the couch and covered her legs with it.
Devin found a channel featuring a documentary on South African lions and set the remote down. “Are you hungry? I still have a few pieces of sushi left.”
Gemma scrunched up her nose. “I’ll pass. I had dinner twice.”
Chuckling, Devin shook his head. “You are so lucky I picked you up and not Gladys.”
“The bobbies hit the jackpot when you walked in.” Gemma agreed, shivering in mock horror. Her mother was a five foot powerhouse. “Mum would’ve bum rushed my flat and taken complete control of the investigation.”
Speaking of her mother…
“How do you know my mother is out of town?”
Devin lifted his hand and ran a finger along his jawline. Gemma was beginning to think it was a nervous habit of his when he hated telling the truth and someone wasn’t going to like it.
“Your mother and I, we stay in touch.”
Gemma’s mouth fell open. What did he mean they stayed in touch? “How much in touch? Do you just talk on the phone or do you have cozy Friday night dinners together.”
“Why?” He reached up and scratched the back of his head.
“I want to know the extent of your communication, so I can estimate how long I won’t be speaking to her.”
“We talk every now and then.”
Gemma rolled her eyes. He was actually trying to beat around the bush. “When was the last time you talked?”
“A few weeks ago, I ran the idea of signing with Top Flight past her to see if you would be amenable.”
Gemma’s stomach dropped. To think her mother’s opinion depended on the firm landing one of their biggest clients. “What did she say?”
“She laughed at me for a good five minutes.”
Good ol’ Mum! “And you still became our client?”
“I sort of didn’t have a choice. No other firm would take me.”
Well, that wasn’t a lie. Devin had dug himself such a hole he’d been dropped by his agent. And any sports agents worth his weight in sponsor endorsements could smell a small commission check a thousand miles away.
“I think we need to set some boundaries.” Somewhere between the ride from her house and Devin’s, she’d decided to keep him on her client list. Plus, it would be rather heartless to kick someone to the curb when they’d open their home to you.
Devin placed his hands under his head. “I’m listening.”
“I’m only going to stay here until Mum and Dad get back from their cruise next week.”
“You can stay here as long as you like. The place is big enough for both of us. Plus, twenty-four hours after you walk out that door, you’ll be begging me to come back.”
Gemma chuckled. She adored her parents, but her mum could get on her last nerve, which happened 99.98% of the time. “I appreciate the hospitality.”
“And it will never be rescinded. I don’t want you to leave until you’re ready.”
Gemma rubbed her tummy. His words made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
“While I’m staying here, there will be absolutely no shagging.”
Devin cut his eyes at her. “No shagging between us? What about someone else?”
The thought of him sleeping with other women made Gemma’s skin crawl, but she couldn’t tell him who he could and could not sleep with. It was no longer her place.
“No shagging between us,” she clarified.
Silence hung between them and then Devin uncurled himself from the chair and walked over to her. He leaned in, placed his hands on either side of her hips, caging her in.
Gemma gulped. It was better than panting! He smelled like heaven.
“There will be no shagging between us and no one else for that matter. It won’t be pretty if I caught you banging some other bloke under my roof.” He pushed away from her and dropped the remote in her lap. “Those are my boundaries.”
“Okay,” Gemma whispered but inside she was pumping her fist. For the duration of her time under his roof, there would be no other women in his bed.
Chapter Four
“Please don’t…stop…take it!”
Gemma kicked out at her assailant, but her legs were paralyzed. Refusing to be a victim, she swung her fist.
Once.
Twice.
Not connecting, legs still immobile, Gemma tried rolling away. One moment she was weightless, free of her attacker, the next the air rushed from her lungs.
Gemma blinked down at the hardwood floor then over her shoulder at the bed. It must have been a bad dream. A painful one to boot. Groaning, she pushed herself to her feet.
“You okay?” Devin asked from the doorway. “I heard something fall in here.”
Frowning, Gemma massaged her shoulder. It smarted like a mother. “No worries, just a tiny spill.” She gave him a reassuring smile, but froze.
Dressed to workout, Devin was a walking sexual fantasy. Hair slicked back and parted on the side, he looked more like a High Street model than a professional footballer. Legs toned from hours of practice, calves practically bulging with muscle, his body was powerful yet sleek, like a jaguar’s, and well-suited for his job since bulky muscle would hamper his ability to react at a moment’s notice.
Bloody, freakin’ contract.
He pushed away from the door jamb, and walked toward her. When he stopped in front of her, green eyes narrowed, scrutinizing, she became hyperaware of everything. She noticed the gold flecks in his eyes. The old scar above his lip. His delicious, masculine scent.
And of course, her own inadequacies came into ultra-focus. Self-conscious, Gemma wiped at her mouth. “What?” Had she drooled in her sleep?
“You’re oozing.” He pointed at her brow. “Your dressing needs to be changed.” His eyes met hers and goose bumps ran down her arms. “Want me to do it?”
In more ways than one. “If you don’t mind.” Gemma hated rashes, broken bones, cuts, blood, stitches, sores and most definitely pus, but not in that order.
As soon as he turned around, reaching for the peroxide and bandages on the nightstand, Gemma exhaled in relief. The charge she got from him made her frighteningly alive, like a natural high.
With surprising efficiency, he removed the butterfly closures and threw them into a nearby wastepaper basket. He then placed a cotton pad underneath her eyebrow and tipped the bottle of peroxide.
Possessing a low tolerance for pain, Gemma’s hand shot out to stop him. “It’s going to sting, isn’t it?”
His eyes gravitated to the open wound. “Most definitely.”
Gemma let his wrist go. “Okay…” She squeezed her eyes shut, “I’m ready.”
The cold peroxide trickled onto her skin and quickly turned into liquid fire.
“Owowow—”
A war
m pair of lips suddenly cut off her yelp of pain. Gemma’s eyes shot open, meeting his. The pain had nothing on the shock of re-discovering how soft his lips were and how much she wanted to feel his tongue entwine with hers.
All too abruptly, he pulled away.
“W-why did you kiss me?” Panting, Gemma licked her lips, savoring the taste.
“Get your mind off the pain. Did it work?” Cool as a cucumber, Devin tore into a clean bandage.
More than worked. Her head wound barely registered and her job was beginning to look more and more like an inconvenience. Bothered by her reaction, she ducked her head. “It still stings,” she lied.
“Then I should do it again.”
He leaned in again. Afraid she might want more, Gemma held up her hands. “I’m good, really.”
“Are you sure?”
“Finish what you’re doing, Devin.”
“You’re no bloody fun.” The sides of his mouth twitching, Devin applied the fresh bandage then stepped back, admiring his handiwork. “I’m heading to the gym, but I’ll be back in an hour. Be ready so we can go eat breakfast.”
Gemma’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you didn’t like eating in public places.”
“Normally, no.” Devin averted his gaze, taking particular interest in the bed’s white duvet cover.
Smelling a rat, Gemma pressed, “Last night, when you were so adamant about ordering in, that was a set up wasn’t it?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“Devin…”
He ran a finger along his jawline. “The freaks come out at night?”
“Devin…”
“I haven’t seen you in eight years. I didn’t want to share you with the public.”
He stalked to the door, and Gemma remained on the bed, stewing in pheromones. “I’m your agent, Devin, not your girlfriend.”
Pausing on the threshold, he turned around. “Agent…girlfriend. Either way you’re screwing.” He even had the audacity to wink before he closed the door behind him.
***
Devin flashed his gym pass. The blonde handed him two warm towels and wished him a good workout. Devin grunted. He would’ve preferred a workout of a different kind. One involving crawling in bed with Gemma and making love to her ’til her eyes crossed. Since she wasn’t quite ready for that, he’d pulled himself away and headed to the club.