Player's Challenge

by Koko Brown

  “Stu’s on board with Right Tough but he’s not too keen on Marshall Rye. He doesn’t believe in the promotion of alcohol.”

  She walked into the main living area and stopped to kick off her ballet flats. The weight of her gaze was so palpable, he fidgeted in his seat. “Okay…” she said to someone on the other end of her cell, “I’ll call you as soon as I get off the phone with both companies.”

  When she hung up the phone, Devin’s pulse raced with adrenaline. Feeling a tad bit guilty, he kept his eyes on the television as he clicked through channels. He even pretended to take an undue interest in some family program.

  “I didn’t know you were into the Teletubbies.”

  Shifting his focus, Devin zeroed in on the TV screen. Sure enough, four furry beasts were cavorting on the screen. “I always had a thing for the yellow one.” Without changing the channel, he continued, “So did you make your meeting?”

  Gemma walked behind him toward the dining room table, and set her purse down. “I made it with a few minutes to spare. Thank goodness he’s such a good-natured bloke. If it had been Cortez Ferdinand, Yvonne would’ve had my butt in a sling. What a prima donna. He doesn’t wait on anyone.”

  Devin snorted. He knew the Galician footballer well. “Cortez isn’t any different on the pitch. He’s a notorious complainer and well-known flopper.”

  She padded back over and stood in front of him. “You’ve been a bad boy.”

  Heart pounding, Devin blinked up at her. Had she seen him in the noodle shop across the street from the Royal Wiltshire Hotel? The Vietnamese restaurant had afforded him the best view of the hotel’s popular high-end tea room.

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  She knelt on the ottoman and slowly crawled up his body, causing him to lose his train of thought and his apology. When she was near, all Devin could think about was sinking balls-deep into her.

  “I didn’t tire you out did I?” She straddled his lap and blood rushed to his cock. “I noticed you skipped your afternoon workout.”

  “H-how do you know I skipped it?”

  “You’re wearing the same clothes when I left to meet with Stu.” Her hands gathered the hem of her sundress and she pulled the garment over her head. Like a moth to a flame, he reached out and slid his hands around her waist. Her dark skin was so unbelievably soft and warm. He couldn’t wait to bury himself inside her.

  “You caught me,” Devin rasped, emotion constricting his lungs. She had no idea she’d caught him in more ways than one. He’d been so close to telling her he loved her in the shower earlier. Instead, he held his tongue because he didn’t want to scare the shit out of her and give her an excuse to push him away for the sake of her bloody career.

  “Do you think you’re up for some more fun?”

  If stalking her had been exhausting, he’d quickly recovered. Pure adrenaline pumped through his veins. Gemma, sitting on his lap in nothing but a blush-colored bra and matching panties, could do that to him.

  “With you, I’m always up for more…and then some.”

  Gemma stuck her hand into the pocket of Devin’s camouflage cargo shorts. Bingo! Grinning, she pulled out a condom. The man had them in surplus.

  “How was your meeting with Stuart?” he asked as she tore into the prophylactic. Even though his voice sounded casual, his eyes bored into her, as if trying to glean the entire encounter from her expression.

  “It was enlightening,” she hedged. A part of her wanted to elicit some kind of emotion out from him. She’d been warring with hers for the past ten years.

  “Really?” His hands tightened around her waist, his fingers digging into her skin as he sat forward. “Enlightening how?”

  Gemma leaned into him. The fresh scent of his cologne tickled her nostrils and she breathed him in, setting off a catalyst of chaotic sensations. “You’re jealous,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  “Possessive, jealous, obsessive…all of the above when it comes to you.” He undid her bra then flung the garment over his shoulder.

  The heady combination of his words and the cool brush of air against her naked skin made her nipples harden. Devin also noticed. He shifted his hands and thumbed the puckered buds.

  “Stu knows about us,” she gushed. Whenever the man had his hands on her, she couldn’t hide anything from him.

  “And how did that come about?”

  Like a moth to a flame, she placed her hands on his thighs and leaned toward him. “I was preoccupied most of the meeting. He put two and two together, came to the conclusion my mind was on a man, which it was since I was afraid you were going to come charging through the door.”

  “But I was a good boy. I respected the boundaries you set.”

  “And I’m grateful.”

  “So what did he say when you told him you were shagging a client.”

  “He asked why I didn’t consider him.”

  Gemma could almost see the steam gushing from his ears. “Next time I come across Wirth, I’m going to kick his balls into his throat.” Low, bordering on menacing, his voice pulsated with anger.

  “You’re not going to do any such thing because he was only kidding.” Craving more contact, Gemma wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her breasts flattened against his chest. The contrast between hard and soft, caused goose bumps to whiz up her arms. “And he’s sworn to secrecy.”

  “Secrecy, you say?” He cocked his head and licked his tongue along the pulse in her throat.

  Gemma inched closer. …“His lips are sealed.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” He grasped her hips and pulled her toward him, fusing them together, groin to groin.

  His voice dipped another octave to barely a whisper. “How do you do it?”

  Equally affected, Gemma sighed into him. “Do what?”

  While his lips blazed a hot trail, he hooked his hands inside her panties and pulled, popping the thin material. “Make me so hard, and yet so vulnerable. You have me so wide open, you have my world spinning.”

  So vulnerable, so wide open he would possibly tell the truth? Unable to let this opportunity pass, Gemma cupped his face. “What happened between us?” She kissed the side of his mouth, earning herself a tormented groan. “Why did you leave without saying goodbye?”

  “I was a coward,” he muttered. “I didn’t say goodbye because I feared I wouldn’t be able to leave if I did. And where would that get us? Miserable, living in a cubby in Birmingham. And you…you can be mean. And I…I would drink all the time”

  “We can be heroes for ever and ever…what’d you say?” A smile quirked Gemma’s lips. “You remembered my all-time favorite song.”

  “How could I forget? Whenever you were in one of your funks, you had Bowie on repeat,” he said, rubbing his forehead as if trying to wash away the memory.

  Gemma nodded. Whenever she had a bad day, she used to come home, lock herself in her room and decompress with the Thin White Duke. “After you left for Croydon, I played it over and over every day for about month,” slipped out before she could catch herself.

  She glanced at him, hoping against hope he’d missed it. No such miracle. His expression said it all. Shock. Pity. Remorse. Stomach knotting with angst, her arms wrapped around her middle.

  “Come here you.” Chuckling he pushed his hands into her hair and pulled her toward him until their foreheads kissed. “And here I thought I was the only one pining away. Can you finally let the past go and forgive me?”

  “Yes.” Gemma cringed. Her voice didn’t sound like it belonged to her, clogged as it was with emotion.

  In one quick movement, he rolled her beneath him and unbuttoned his shorts, exposing the veiny, hard length of him. He lifted her legs to wrap around his hips, then pushed home.

  He was rough and impatient, lacking the smooth moves she’d grown accustomed to and Gemma loved it. “Yes,” she moaned, digging her nails into his back.

  “I love making up with you.” He braced his hands above her h
ead and arched his hips to push a little deeper.

  Everything tightened, a sweet tension building with each rhythmic stroke. With each thrust, he hit that sweet spot, which made her head spin. Panting and frantic, she reached between her legs. Finding her clit, she raced toward another orgasm.

  “Christ church!” Neck corded with strain, he hovered over her. “You’re about to come. I can feel…”

  He came with an animalist growl, his body shaking with a ferocity and such a raw, organic beauty Gemma lost her vulnerable grasp on reality. Eyes squeezed shut, trembling like a leaf, she succumbed to bliss.

  Struggling for breath, clasped in his arms, Gemma floated back down to Earth. Devin cupped her chin, turning her to face him. He brushed his lips over hers, and like a match to a wick, he ignited her passion once more. Her sex pulsated, clamped down on him.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, acknowledging her body’s response.

  “I’m sorry.” Gemma made to separate their bodies, untangling her limbs, but he flexed his arm keeping her close.

  “Don’t bloody apologize. I’d die a happy man making love to you.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Gemma murmured, overcome with emotion. What they had was inexplicable. “Too bad we can’t bottle it or we’d make millions.”

  “Always looking at the business angle.” Chuckling, Devin rolled her beneath him, seating himself deeper. His lips played with the fine hairs at her temple and all thoughts of business faded.

  The moment was intimate, in direct contrast to their previous lovemaking. One could get used to this, she deduced as he cooed words of praise and endearment and molded her body to his enchanting rhythm.

  ***

  Chapter Ten

  A week turned into two, then another as they fell into a comfortable routine. Gemma converted Devin’s dining room table into her temporary office. Up by eight every morning, she worked until four. Devin left the house intermittingly for his twice a day workouts or for business. If it was the latter, she usually accompanied him.

  Gemma loved her work, the haggling over numbers, fielding media inquiries, and stroking a half-a-dozen egos, and yet she never hesitated to set it aside to spend time with Devin. In or out of bed, they were so well suited. They could talk for hours about anything or simply sit in the same room and say nothing. It was as if each were the puzzle and the other was the missing piece that completed them.

  Even now, in the middle of booking Amberson Park for Devin’s soccer camp, Gemma kept glancing at her watch, wondering why he wasn’t home from his morning workout. He should’ve been home over two hours ago.

  “Is there anything else you think you’ll need, Miss Clarke?”

  Amberson’s Facility Director, Peter Moultrie, pulled her back into their phone conversation.

  “No. I believe we’ve covered everything.”

  “Well, I’ll put the event on the calendar. We’re really honored to have Mr. Spencer. This is going to be great for the community. See you next month.”

  “Thank you for everything, Mr. Moultrie,” she said, hanging up.

  Unable to contain her enthusiasm and using the news as the perfect excuse to check on Devin, she speed dialed him.

  “Hey, babe,” he answered on the second ring. An involuntary smile touched Gemma’s lips. Hearing his voice always did for her.

  “Hey, yourself. I have fabulous news.”

  “Dish ’cause I need it.”

  “I secured Amberson Park for the soccer camp. The press release is already drawn up and the poster design is at the printers waiting for our confirmation. All they need is the location and date and we’re good to go.”

  “That sounds great,” he said, his tone far from ecstatic. Even through the phone, Gemma could feel him pulling away from her. Her heart thundered in her chest.

  “Devin, what’s wrong?”

  “Your flat’s ready. The security team called. They want to meet up around one o’clock this afternoon for a walk through.”

  The honeymoon was finally over. Even though she knew her living with him wouldn’t last forever, Gemma was rocked by a sudden dejected feeling. Crestfallen, she glanced at her wrist watch. “It’s half past twelve, Devin.”

  “Sorry, love,” he said sheepishly. “I got caught up. If you want, I can meet you there.”

  He wasn’t going to pick her up? Gemma gulped. Her heart had wedged itself in the back of her throat. The connection between them was already slipping away.

  When Gemma pulled up in front of her flat, a Lock, Stock and Barrel work truck was parked in front. Right behind it, Devin’s Porsche Panamera. On the drive over, she’d used the time to put on her big girl panties. Whatever she felt for him, she stuffed into the small cubbyhole in her heart marked ‘Devin’. If he was going to end things, she refused to break down.

  After all, moving back into her place was for the best. What they had these past four couldn’t possibly last. Devin was her client, first and foremost. Being her lover had been a nice perk, a very, very nice one.

  Almost dizzy with anxiety, Gemma climbed the front stoop and entered her flat. She walked down the hallway and found Devin standing in her family room talking with a representative from the security company. He must have showered and changed at the gym because he wore dark rinse denim jeans, a heather gray t-shirt and white high-top trainers. The t-shirt’s light color complimented his tanned skin and intensified his good looks. Overcome with emotion, Gemma averted her gaze before she gave herself away.

  “Are you the owner of the house?” the rep asked.

  “In the flesh.” Gemma plastered on a smile as she shook the man’s hand.

  “O’Doul. I think you’ll be mighty pleased with what we’ve done. Mr. Spencer didn’t spare any expense.” He gleefully smacked his hands together. Gemma could almost see the pound signs reflected in his eyes. “How about we start the tour on the outside, then work our way in?”

  Devin’s gaze burned into her as she followed O’Doul from the family room. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and then shut it. Was he as confused and torn up about her imminent move home as she was?

  Get real! More than likely, Devin was already lining up the larks to replace her now that he would have his place to himself again. If only she’d followed her instincts and kept things professional. Once again she would be the one left holding the bag, while he moved on to the next conquest. Well she’d done it before, she could do it again. This time, she vowed, would be the last.

  “We’ve installed surveillance cameras in the front of the house as well as here in the garden,” O’ Doul pointed out. “They’re activated by motion and can be monitored via the telly and your cell phone.” He stepped forward and fingered what appeared to be new locks on her French doors. “We’ve also changed out all your latches with high security keyless and voice activated locks.”

  Gemma’s eyes widened. “Keyless and voice activated?”

  “We’re called Lock, Stock, and Barrel for a reason.” O’Doul’s chest expanded with pride. “You’ll never have to worry about fumbling with keys again or some creep jimmying the lock.” He motioned for her to step closer. “From now on, your doors will open with a touch of your finger.”

  O’Doul closed the garden doors, then rattled the knobs to prove they were locked. “Place your index finger in this little indention, and voila, open sesame.”

  Feeling like an extra in a James Bond flick, Gemma swiped her finger over the latch. As if by magic, the pen clicked. Beaming, O’Doul touched his finger against the lock and the pen clicked again.

  “Now say,” he stepped back, “I’m home.”

  Gemma glanced at Devin. He winked, and she responded in kind. This kind of made up for being kicked to the curb. Mood improved, she cleared her throat with a heavy dose of dramatics.

  “I’m home,” she declared, and once again the deadbolt clicked.

  “What do you think?” O’Doul asked.

  “Bloody, frea
kin’ fantastic,” she gushed.

  “Great! Then my job here is done.” O’Doul swept past her, and back inside. In the front foyer, he stopped to hand her his business card. “Here’s my card. Like us, refer us.”

  “I sure will,” Gemma promised as she opened the front door open for him. Instead of closing it behind him, she kept it open for Devin, giving him an easy out.

  With more exuberance than warranted, Gemma chirped, “thank you for everything.”

  “My pleasure.” Devin sidled over to the door but didn’t breech the threshold. “If there are any glitches, note them and I’ll have him back out to fix them.”

  “I will,” Gemma muttered, feeling an unsettling sadness.

  “I’ll pack up your stuff and have your things delivered before the end of the week.”

  He really was getting rid of her. He wouldn’t even let her come back to his flat to collect her things. Still, she managed to dredge up a smile. “I’ll be here.”

  “Well…I better get going.” He stepped over the threshold, straddling it. “Thank you for all you’ve done with pulling together the soccer camp.”

  “My pleasure.” Smile still intact, Gemma walked the door forward, edging him onto the stoop. There was no need to prolong things any further.

  He had other ideas. “What about my contract?”

  Nonplussed, Gemma didn’t stop her momentum. “If anything comes up, I’ll give you a ring.”

  As soon as she shut the door, she leaned against it with a heart-felt sigh. Thank goodness she’d had the smart idea to make a quick stop at Tesco to pick up a roll of chocolate chip cookie dough. Only a dozen, fresh-baked cookies could distill this emptiness.

  Knock…knock…knock.

  Gemma frowned. It could be no one else, but Devin. In that short of time, he wouldn’t have been able to clear the front walkway.

  Exasperated because the cookie dough was calling her name, she flung open the door. “Did you forget something?”

  Devin stepped toward her at the same time he captured her by the nape.

  “Devin—”