by Koko Brown
“Hello, Devin.”
For a few seconds, Devin lost the ability to speak. His lips parted and he stared. Stared in a way he had never stared at any woman, ever. A natural beauty, she’d gone light on the makeup, some eyeliner, maybe some mascara and a golden lip gloss which begged to be eaten off. Devin drew closer until he towered over her.
Craning her neck back she took a step back. “I’m sorry we kept you waiting so long.”
Devin waved away her apology. “I just sat down.”
“Good,” she seemed relieved by his answer. “The phones have been ringing off the hook…and you, Mr. Spencer,” she poked a manicured finger in the center of his chest. Barely touched him, and only for the briefest moment, but his blood rushed south. “Are the cause of ninety percent of them.”
Devin refused to apologize. His plan had worked. “Now that I’m here, maybe I can fix things.”
“We’ll see.” She turned around, inviting him to follow with a carefree wiggle of her fingers. “Hope you’re prepared for an all-day powwow,” she threw over her shoulder as she led him down a hallway adorned with more black and whites. “We have a very small window to get this right the first go ’round, so there’s no delays.”
Devin tugged his gaze from her strappy high-heeled sandals. Also off-white and Gladiator in design, they lifted her several inches from the ground and accentuated her delectable calves.
“Whatever it takes to get the job done,” he drawled. “I’m all in.” Balls deep if need be.
This was going swimmingly. Better than he’d hoped! Better than he’d dreamed! For the better part of a week, he’d tossed around different scenarios regarding their reunion, and every single one ended with him on his knees begging her forgiveness.
“Are we heading to your office or a boardroom?”
Devin hoped for the former. Since Gemma had lived with him during the previous negotiations, he’d never stepped foot in her office. And now, for some peculiar reason, his curiosity was drawn to another facet of her life.
She stopped in front of a frosted glass panel, resembling the two at the front entrance. “We’re meeting in here. The walls of my office aren’t floor to ceiling, and I prefer we have some privacy.” She pushed on a chrome handle, and the partition slid open to reveal a small boardroom with more white walls, a panoramic view of London, and four chairs arranged around a glass top table. Underwhelmed by the prevailing décor, he almost missed a credenza set with a tea service and other refreshments.
She breezed past him, and his gaze followed unable to get their fill. He wanted her so bad, his pants were now tighter in one other place besides his waist.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“Love some tea.” And you. Preferably bent over the table. Naked save for those sexy heels.
Unaware of his in-the-gutter fantasies, Gemma plucked a white tea cup and saucer from a set stacked two high and four deep. With an efficiency he would never be able to master, she rifled through a blue and white porcelain tea caddy, while filling his cup with hot water.
“Earl Grey with milk?”
“You remembered,” he murmured, doubly affected by her uncanny recall and watching her doing something as innocuous as preparing his tea, which brought back memories of better times.
She smiled and he was knocked sideways. Her welcoming demeanor confused him, but it didn’t completely disorient him like being privy to her happiness, which he wanted desperately. Heart slamming, Devin grabbed the nearest chair. To calm his nerves, he gazed at the ever present London cityscape.
Smile still in place, she suddenly appeared in front of him, blocking his view. “I’ll let you pour your own milk and sugar,” she said, handing him his tea.
“Thank you.” His hands closed around hers and her smile faltered. In fact, her entire genial façade crumbled. He could see her chest rising and falling, each breath deeper than the last. Lips slightly parted, she licked them and every muscle in his body tensed ready to pounce.
“Gemma, I miss—”
“Did I miss anything?”
Flustered, Gemma hightailed it to the credenza. Devin cursed his luck. Yvonne, oblivious to what she’d interrupted, rounded the boardroom table and took the seat across from him.
“Not much,” Gemma returned to the table, a sparkling water in hand. “Just helping ourselves to the refreshments.”
Devin’s eyes narrowed when Gemma took the seat next to Yvonne. Together, side by side, it felt like they were ganging up on him. Not liking this one bit, he asked, “Are you joining us?”
“Normally, I don’t sit in on my agents and their clients. Micromanaging isn’t my style. But this is a special case. You backed out of the initial deal Gemma worked so tirelessly on, so I felt I should be here to help her iron out all the kinks before she dives in again.” She paused to click the button on her ballpoint pen. “Shall we get started?”
Devin’s gaze settled on Gemma. There was that polite smile again. “I’m all yours,” he conceded.
“So what didn’t you like about the Edmonton deal?” Gemma asked bluntly. “Were the terms not to your liking?
“I had no complaints with the contract. It was drawn up in my favor. You did a fantastic job.”
A larger part of him relished the way she sat up straighter. But then a smaller part of him, the self-center part realized he’d never complimented her achievements enough. She’d always been his cheerleader. He’d rarely returned the favor.
“Then it wasn’t enough money?”
“Far from it,” he retorted. “I would’ve been grossly overpaid, and mo—”
“—money isn’t everything,” Gemma completed.
“Exactly.” Devin sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I might sound like a bloody sap, but some things are more important than material possessions.” So she had no doubt to what he was referring, he looked pointedly at her.
Her smile slipped just a notch as she touched the back of her neck. “So…as a player what do you consider important?”
“Friendships…my relationships.”
“You could’ve moved on, developed the same bonds at Edmonton. With any team in the EPL, for that matter and with a beautiful payout.”
“There’s something wrong with your character if opportunity controls your loyalty don’t you agree.”
“Loyalty is rare, so if you find it, you keep it.” Yvonne whispered.
“Exactly.”
Gemma glanced at her boss. They exchanged a look, then Yvonne turned back to him. “Do you have a personal monetary threshold you’d like us to shoot for?”
“I’ll leave that up to Gemma.”
“Devin, I don’t think—”
“I trust you’ll go to the goal for me,” he cut off Gemma’s protest. “You always do.”
Obviously not buying his bullshit, Gemma’s lips twisted in to a moue. “Do you think you’ll pass the physical?” Her gaze dropped to his midsection. “I noticed so I’m sure Croydon’s management will see how you’ve been living it up this summer.”
Self-conscious, Devin ran his hands over his abs. He’d packed on a stone, but the washboard was very much intact.
“What do you think? Did I fall too far off the wagon?”
Her boss’s appreciative gaze raked over him. “You’re a little pale around the gills. Other than that you look great. By the way,” Yvonne lifted her right arm, “what’s the history behind that tattoo right there below the elb—”
“Oi!” Gemma griped. “Can we stay focused?”
“Sorry,” Yvonne offered even going so far as to look contrite. As soon as Gemma’s head was turned she mouthed, ‘we’ll talk later’.
“We don’t need to give Croydon any reason to low ball us. So I need you to get your butt in the gym like yesterday.”
Her authoritative tone affecting his balls, Devin shifted in his seat. He also fell in line. “A few twice a days in the gym, camp out in the steam room, I’ll be back down to my fighting w
eight by the press conference.”
“I hope so,” Gemma countered, her tone doubtful. “With all this talk of loyalty and trust, I assume you want to stay with Croydon long term.”
“I’m a one team kind of guy.” Devin grinned in the face of Yvonne’s laughter and Gemma’s sour pout.
“I think we’re done here.” Gemma began gathering up her things. Yvonne stood as well.
“That’s it?” he glanced at his watch. “We’ve only been at it ten or fifteen minutes.”
There was that phony smile again. “You insisted to meet with us,” she turned to Yvonne, “and since time is of the essence, I’d better jump on this.”
Devin watched her head for the door. “When will I hear something? Will you call?” Dammit, man, where are your balls?
She didn’t miss a step. She didn’t look back either. “We’ll be in touch. Hit the gym.”
She’d dismissed him and took happiness with her.
As soon as Yvonne entered her office, Gemma pounced. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Feigning innocence or simply a fabulous actress, Gemma couldn’t tell which, Yvonne rounded her desk and sat down.
“‘Loyalty is rare, if you find it, you keep it,’” Gemma mimicked. “It felt like it was freakin’ Coronation Street in there.”
“Oh, that.” Yvonne picked up her notebook and fanned herself. “All those sly innuendoes, I got caught up in the moment. You have to admit he’s good.”
“I know,” Gemma groused. “I was this close to throwing my knickers at him.”
Yvonne’s eyes widened. “Not the big girl panties.”
“The whole drawer of them. The moment I laid eyes on him, I felt like I was suffering a bleedin’ heart attack.” Gemma swiped her forehead. “I’m surprised I survived the meeting.”
“Despite my being a detriment, you did fantastic.”
“Thanks for nothing, C.B.” Having said her peace, Gemma decided to cut it short. There was money to be made. “I need to confirm with Mulroney. I had his assistant pencil me in for three o’clock.”
Yvonne’s eyebrows shot skyward. “That sure of your client?”
Hand on the doorknob, Gemma paused. “Just good at anticipating his next move.” And it didn’t hurt she knew Devin like the back of her hand.
“Speaking of next move,” Yvonne set down her notebook, “what’s yours with Mr. Spencer?”
“I just told you I’m meeting with Mul—”
“I’m not talking business anymore.”
Gemma crossed her arms. “Defecting to the other side?”
“I’m a sucker for a happy ending. Plus, the sexual tension in that room was so thick I have half a mind to hightail it back to the rental for a naughty nooner.” Yvonne plopped her chin in her hand. “Highly doubt Paolo would be down for it. Baby duty can put a real damper on anyone’s libido.”
“Lies, manipulation and a client doubting your credibility are better than a cold shower.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing. I’d hate for you to rue all the time you spent being mad when you could’ve been making up.”
“What about your non-fraternizing clause?”
“Still stands. For you, I’ll make an exception. You and Devin had a history before this firm. That time has to mean something.”
“It does mean something, but it doesn’t outweigh the residual damage or picking myself up every time he finds something better. Ever been thrown over for football?
“No,” Yvonne muttered.
“It wasn’t pretty.”
Yvonne looked stumped, and then she said, “A relationship isn’t based on the length of time you spend together; it’s the foundation you build together.”
Gemma blinked. How was she able to pull these out of her ass? “Do you keep a book of quotes next to your bed?”
“I’m addicted to Pinterest.” Yvonne held up her cell phone, and sure enough the app was open.
“So are we back on the same page?”
Yvonne held up a pair of imaginary pompoms. “Team Gemma for the win.”
Chapter Fifteen
Invigorated from a cold shower, Devin stepped from the stall. His next stop the steam room. True to his word, and per Gemma’s advice, he’d picked up his old routine and gotten his arse in the gym. Two days later, he was already down half a stone.
A towel wrapped around his waist, his flip flops beating out a squishy rhythm on the wood floors, he trudged through a bank of shower stalls to the sauna. Of course, he carried his cell phone. He’d practically sat on top of it ever since he’d left Top Flight’s offices, hopeful his extending the olive branch would open a pathway toward a reconciliation.
What a disaster! Instead of seducing Gemma, she’d chastised him for letting himself go. And rightly so. His pants had been so snug, they’d cut into his skin leaving angry, red welts.
Chuckling at his brush with skinny pants, Devin opened the door to the steam room. He hesitated, on the threshold, to scan the interior. A precautionary but necessary measure against nosey parkers or the media. Grateful to find it empty, he meandered inside. Barely in his seat, his cell buzzed. Smiling like a nut, he hit the take-call button.
“Fat Bastard, at your service.”
There was a muted pause, then Gemma’s laughter drifted through the receiver. “Fat bastard?”
“I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.” Or at all for that matter. After Monday’s fiasco, he’d
expected her to go through intermediaries. Unable to contain his excitement, he stood.
“I didn’t want to call unless I had news from Croydon.” Deflated, Devin sat down.” This was only about business. “How soon can you come in?”
“I’m in the gym right now then I’m heading to Aimee’s.”
“Skip it.” Noting her strident tone, Devin elected to yank her chain a bit.
“No can do. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. After a workout, it’s essential.”
“Come in afterward.”
“The rest of my day is completely filled,” he lied. The only thing on his plate was cleaning Grayson’s place as a parting gift before moving back into his apartment.
“I have three meetings lined up,” she sputtered. “Surely you can—”
“Ten o’clock Aimée’s.”
Presenting her with the only acceptable option, Devin didn’t wait around for her to accept, he hung up.
***
An hour later, showered but desperately needing a shave, Devin entered the parking lot of Aimée’s Cottage. Nervous, he checked his appearance in the side view mirror. Christ’s Church! He ran his hand over his whiskered chin. He’d fallen into his old habits with ease, his daily shave not so much. His beard had grown beyond a five o’clock shadow into more like midnight. The stiff blond hairs were beginning to fill in. He could barely see the two inch scar, a permanent reminder of a brutal penalty kick, on his chin. At least he had two things in his favor. His hair was cooperating, staying put, slicked back, and his trousers, because of his recent weight loss, had some give.
Clutching a bouquet of Rainbow Alstroemeria, he headed inside. There was nothing he could do about his grooming or lack thereof now. He’d parked two cars over from Gemma’s mint green Fiat. He stopped to check the hood to gauge how long she’d been waiting on him. Not long. Still, he refused to dawdle. Happy ex, could lead to make-up sex.
“Devin, mon homme trop sexy!” Arms outstretched, Aimée leaned over the pastry display. He greeted her warmly, hugged her tight, pecked her cheeks. Despite their twenty year age difference, it was nice to be called sexy.
“Where have you been?” She tugged his mini beard. “Being a bad boy again?”
“Very bad. Now, I’m atoning for it.”
Aimée’s blue eyes twinkled. “Was it worth it?”
“She was and still is,” he breathed, heart racing and stomach curdling like he’d jogged Wembley Stadium twice. A tingle suddenly zipped down Devin’s back. Compelled,
he slowly turned around. His eyes landed on Gemma and she waved. Seated by the windows, bathed in natural sunlight, wearing a pale yellow dress, she looked ethereal. Like an angel. His angel. Ready to receive his salvation, he wrapped things up with Aimée.
Aimée beat him to the punch. “The regular?”
“Today’s a low carb day. I’ll have the egg basket, fruit instead of toast. I’m watching my weight.”
“Your agent knows you pretty well.” Smiling, Aimée placed her hand on her hip. “She’s already ordered for you. Go take care of your business. It’ll be up shortly.”
“This isn’t a date.” Gemma said when he walked up. She eyed the bouquet as if it would bite her.
Devin smiled in the face of her waspish tone. The bigger the attitude, the more determined he was to win her over. Plus, his dick was clamoring to crawl inside her, hammer into her until she forgave him.
“It’s a peace offering then.” He set the flowers in front of her, then sat down. “I’m sure working with me again is a bitter pill to swallow.”
Without giving them a second glance, Gemma placed the flowers in the empty chair next to her. “This is strictly business and nothing more.”
“And I’m in good hands. You’re one of the best agents in the field.”
Her expression immediately soured and he’d wished he could take the words back.
“Is that according to you or your former agent? You seem to value his advice.”
“About that I didn’t mean—”
“Order’s up.” Aimée set their plates down.
Devin eyed the crepe topped with blueberries on Gemma’s plate and almost cried.
“Can I get you two anything else?”
“I’m good,” Gemma purred, already cutting into her crepe.
“Me too,” Devin grumbled, hating the poor timing of the intrusion and his healthy, but bland breakfast.
While Gemma dug in, Devin was determined to have his say. Plus with her mouth stuffed, she’d be less likely to interrupt him.
He was wrong.
“Where’s the rest of your top?” she asked, her fork pointed at his chest.
Devin glanced down. Usually, he wore the super low-neck undershirt layered beneath another shirt or a cardigan. He had a sweater in the car, but left it behind because his body temperature was still raging from the sauna.