Pursued by the Player
Black Towers 3
Lauren Hawkeye and Suzanne Rock
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
About Lauren Hawkeye
About Suzanne Rock
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eXcessica publishing
Pursued by the Player © 2016 by Lauren Hawkeye and Suzanne Rock
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
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Cover design © 2016 Lauren Hawkeye
First Edition November 2016
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Chapter 1
Melody Lerner hated it when things didn’t work out as planned. While she didn’t expect a promotion after showing her boss the fashion designs that morning, she at least expected a thank you, or a good job. Instead, she got a long list of things that were wrong with the spring styles and veiled threats on how she needed to step up her game. After months of hard work, she had to start over.
The only bright spot in her day was her afternoon break with her best friend, Liv. Three months ago, they had met on an assignment and had become instant friends. Bonding over egotistical bosses and fruit smoothies, they had talked about how their idealistic views of corporate life had been smashed by mid-level management mere weeks after college graduation. When they had exhausted that topic, they talked about relationships, and how each of them found it incredibly difficult to find anyone worth their time in the city. For some reason, they both managed to attract losers without jobs and who expected them to be their mother rather than their partner.
But all that had changed for Liv. Recently she was part of a scandal that threw her in the path of a gorgeous sheikh. Not only was he handsome, but smart and funny too. At first, Mel thought he was too good to be true, but time had proven her wrong. When Nayo rearranged his life just so he could be with her and Liv started learning Middle Eastern dress and customs, Mel had to admit that their love was the real deal. It was as if her friend had stepped out of reality and into her very own fairy tale.
Which was both good and bad. Mel was happy for Liv—Lord knew she deserved some happiness in her life—but Mel was jealous too. Who wouldn’t be? She managed to hide her feelings most of the time, but in those dark moments when she looked in the mirror and saw nothing but flab and freckles, she found it a little difficult to listen to Liv drone on and on about her perfect boyfriend.
Take their last get-together, for example. Mel knew that Liv would understand her troubles at Fresh Fashions that morning, so as soon as she had bought her energy drink and slipped into her chair, she had started venting. Within minutes Liv had managed to steer the conversation to the awesomeness of Nayo and how he was planning some big thing for their one-year anniversary. She had even insisted that Mel come up to her cubicle to see the two dozen pink roses he had sent her at work. Mel faked a smile and tried to muster up some happiness for her friend, but it was difficult. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
The problem was that Mel couldn’t relate to Liv’s situation. She had never had a guy so enthralled with her that he’d uproot his life and move half-way around the world for her. For Liv, dating was rather sporadic and done more out of loneliness than any real affection for the other person. The only exception to the rule was Marc, who she had thought was ‘the one,’ but last month Marc ditched her to go ‘find himself.’ It was only later that Mel learned that “finding himself” was code for running off and marrying a Las Vegas showgirl he met at a bachelor party the week before.
It was just as well. Marc was just another man in a long line of self-centered assholes with mommy issues and video game addictions. At least he had a job if you called playing football for half the year and traveling around the country a job.
If she never saw another self-centered sports player, it would be too soon.
The bell signaled that the elevator doors were about to open, pulling Mel from her thoughts. After a last glance over her shoulder at the Elite! magazine offices where Liv worked, Mel slipped inside. Hopefully, her afternoon will go a little bit better than her morning.
As soon as she stepped into the elevator, her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out only to find that her boss had been looking for her for over an hour.
“Fuck,” she mumbled. Now she was going to have to listen to a lecture on top of everything else. What a shitty day. At least she got some gorgeous new shoes out of it, she thought as she slipped off the plain, black flats she was wearing and replaced them with the most stunning pair of heels she’d ever laid eyes on – sky high heels covered in various shades of pink and rose gold sequins. The only bit of good luck she’d had all day was the fact that they didn’t fit Liv, but they were just the right size for Mel. Liv was always getting gifts and freebies from the photo shoot sets she worked on for Elite! And now and then they would trickle down to Mel. Shoving the flats into her bag, she admired her new footwear, amazed at how much some fabulous shoes could uplift her mood.
“Did you just sit in a pile of sugar?” The low, sexy voice rumbled behind her, causing tingles to spread out over her skin.
Mel glanced over her shoulder at the tall, handsome man leaning against the corner wall of the elevator. He wore tight-fitting jeans that hugged his hips and left nothing to the imagination. He had stuffed his large, rough-looking hands into his pockets, and his stance was so casual, so self-assured, that it reminded her of her former boyfriend. That was where the similarities ended, however. While her boyfriend had been thin and pasty, this guy was broad and tanned. His blue and white T-shirt stretched over the large muscles of his chest and biceps almost to the point of tearing. Bits of black ink peeked out from both the bottom of his sleeve and the neck of his t-shirt, and despite her best efforts, Mel’s curiosity peaked, wondering what he had tattooed over his chest and shoulder. Gorgeous blue eyes peeked out from under a “Los Angeles Lions” baseball cap. When he caught her staring, he winked at her.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“I said, did you just
sit in a pile of sugar?”
“No, why?”
He dropped his gaze to her backside. “Because honey, you have a real sweet ass.”
She made a face of disgust and turned to face him. “You have got to be kidding me.”
He flashed her a seductive smile. “No, I’m not. That’s one of the finest asses I’ve ever seen.”
She crossed her arms. “Did you honestly expect that crappy pickup line to work?”
“You’re talking to me, aren’t you?” He pushed himself off the wall, closing the space between them.
She took a small step back and lifted her chin. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
He twisted his lips into a half-smile. “But it will.” He reached out to touch her hair, and she took a step to the side.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Bad day, eh?” He slid his gaze over her body as he dropped his hand to the side. “I sense a lot of . . . pent-up frustration.”
“Yes, because of you.” She tightened her grip on her purse, hugging it closer to her torso. “Leave me alone.”
“You should know, I strive never to leave a lady pent up and frustrated; I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Give me your number, and I can remedy that tonight… before word gets out.”
“I said leave. Me. Alone.” Mel rolled her eyes, who did this guy think he was?
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Suit yourself.” Leaning against the wall, he slipped his phone out of his jeans pocket and began texting someone. Silence filled the elevator as Mel watched him focus on his phone.
Damn foul man. Mel returned her attention to her phone and texted Kennedy, her boss, that she was on her way back to the office. Of all the self-centered, closed-minded . . .
She risked a glance over at the sexy guy in the corner and found him frowning and shaking his head at his cell.
“What is it?” she asked as she lowered her phone.
“Excuse me?” He glanced up from his cell and looked at her with those cornflower blue eyes.
Fuck, he was gorgeous. Stay strong girl. The last thing she wanted to do was to get caught up with another asshole.
She nodded to his phone. “Is there something wrong?”
“Oh.” He let out a long breath and glanced at his hand. “I’m afraid so.”
“What happened?”
“There’s something wrong with my phone.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He held the cell out, so the screen was facing her. “It doesn’t have your number in it.”
Mel stared at the “new contact” form on his screen. “You’re not serious.”
He pressed it toward her. “Can you fix it?”
The elevator bell sounded, signaling that they were approaching the first floor.
“Sorry, maybe you should try one of those kiosks in the mall.” As the doors opened, Mel retreated to the foyer.
“You’re going to regret running away,” he said as she high-tailed it through the foyer.
“I don’t think so.” She could hear his footsteps behind her. Good Lord, did the man ever give up? She squeezed through the revolving door of the Black Towers building and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
“Hey, wait a minute, I don’t even know your name.”
“Get lost.”
“Get lost—did your parents lose a bet or something?”
Mel rolled her eyes. She had to get away from him. Seeing an approaching cab, she stepped out into the street and waved her arm. “Over here!”
“Wait—”
Something sped by her, spilling her purse from her arm. She stumbled back into a parked car and tripped over the edge of the sidewalk. Letting out a very unfeminine-like yelp, she hit the pavement, hard. As her world went black, one last thought drifted through her mind.
Her boss was going to kill her for not getting back to work on time.
Holy shit. Jett pushed aside a gawking pedestrian and fell by the lovely woman’s side. “Are you okay?”
“Hey, that’s Jett Gorski!” someone yelled.
“Not the Jett Gorski? Of the Los Angeles Lions? Man, you threw a shutout game last week. It was beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Jett said absently as he sat cross-legged and cradled the woman in his lap. He slid his fingers through her hair and tried to ignore how soft and silky the strands felt as he inched around her skull and looked for bumps.
“Can I get your autograph?”
“Later. Did someone call an ambulance?” He looked up into the small group of spectators surrounding them. “She needs help.”
“Oh, yeah.” A woman pulled out her phone. “Can I just get a picture of you first?”
“Can’t it wait?” Frustrated, Jett curled his fingers into the sides of the injured woman’s head, causing her to groan. She probably would slap him for touching her so intimately, be he had to make sure that she was all right. He was the reason why she ran out into traffic in the first place.
He might be an asshole, but he wasn’t heartless.
“I called it in,” said someone from the crowd.
“Thank you.” Jett pushed his anger aside. His agent, Gloria, was constantly telling him to reign in his temper. He always had to smile in public, despite how crappy he felt. It was good for business.
“Did someone get the license plate of that car?” Jett asked.
The crowd mumbled and flashed guilty looks at each other.
“It all happened so fast,” someone said. “The woman came out of nowhere.”
Jett let out a long breath and returned his attention to the chocolate-haired beauty on the ground. “I know.” Apparently, she was good at that – coming out of nowhere. She had caught him completely off guard when her sweet, floral scent filled the elevator and permeated his senses, drawing his attention from his phone to her…
She wasn’t classically beautiful. Her nose was slightly hooked, her eyes a bit too wide. She was tall, taller than most girls he knew, with creamy skin softer than his down comforter back home. A bit too big to be in the fashion magazines, but the extra weight was in all of the right places. She looked as if she could take the wild, rough bedroom games he loved to play and dish it back to him in spades.
Perhaps that was why he was drawn to her in the elevator. Or perhaps it was because she had never given him a second glance. In a world where women were falling all over him for a few seconds of attention, this girl’s rejection was like throwing down a gauntlet.
The woman in question moaned, a cute, feminine sound that made Jett think impure thoughts. He had to stop thinking about sex. It wouldn’t do for some fan to snap his picture with a raging hard on.
“I found this on the sidewalk,” someone said.
Jett glanced up to see a sparkly pink heel. “I’ll take it.” He grabbed the shoe and placed it on the ground next to him as the woman began to stir.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Don’t move. Something might be broken.”
“Don’t touch me,” she mumbled.
Jett laughed, he couldn’t help it. Even half unconscious she was fending him off. Every time this woman opened her mouth, he became more and more infatuated with her.
She swatted half-heartedly at his hands and moved away from him.
“Ma’am,” someone said. “An ambulance is coming.”
“I’m fine.” She rubbed the back of her head. “I wasn’t hit, just stumbled.” She frowned and looked around her on the ground. “Where’s my shoe?”
“Here.” Jett picked up a pink sequenced heel, turning it in the sunlight a few times he watched it sparkle as the image of her standing in front of him wearing only these shoes flashed through his mind, causing a shudder to ripple through his entire body. “I like these. A lot.” He shook his head, pushing the image from his mind as he handed her back her missing shoe. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”
“Yes.” Her pink cheeks grew redder by the second. “My purse,” she mumbled.
Jett straightened. “Where’s
the lady’s purse?”
The crowd began picking items up off the sidewalk. Within moments, a few good Samaritans put everything together and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She grabbed the purse and started to stand.
“Let me help.” Jett put her arm around his shoulder and straightened into a standing position.
“I said don’t touch me.” Her voice lacked the sting from the elevator, and Jett noticed that she made no move to disentangle herself.
“You need to rest,” he said.
“Hey, smile for the camera.”
Jett frowned and blocked the fan before he could get a good shot. While he was used to having his picture taken, the woman would most likely want some privacy in her current state.
“Please,” she whispered as she looked up into his face. “No ambulance. I’m fine, really.” She looked around them at the growing crowd of spectators. “This is so embarrassing.” The words slipped from her lips in a barely audible hush.
“No, you’re not fine.” He swooped down and caught behind her knees as cameras started to flash all around him.
“What are you doing?” the woman asked.
“Getting you out of here.” He lifted her off the ground and strode toward his limo.
“Vince,” he called.
“Got it.” His driver opened the door, and Jett placed her inside on the leather seat. Within moments, he was sitting next to her with the door closed.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“My limo. The windows are tinted, so no one will be able to take our picture.”
“Why would someone take our picture?”
He ignored her question. “You can have some privacy here while we wait for the ambulance.”
“I don’t need an ambulance,” she said as she leaned her head back on the seat.
“Humor me.” He framed his face with her hands and stared into her chocolate-colored eyes. “You look dazed.”
Pursued by the Player (Black Towers Book 3) Page 1