by Reese Ryan
Isaiah flipped his phone in his hand. “I thought about letting her stay at my place,” he said in a blasé tone.
Kevin’s attention snapped to Isaiah. “Hell no!”
Isaiah shrugged. “Why not?”
“Her staying with you means you’re back on again.”
“I’m ready for that step.”
Kevin cocked his head to the side. “What step?”
“The next step. Marriage, kids, all that.”
Kevin’s head shook before Isaiah finished talking. “Not her.”
He hadn’t expected Kevin to give an enthusiastic endorsement for Bridget, but he wasn’t expecting the flat-out steel in his friend’s voice. “Why not?”
“Man, she’s a nice girl but she isn’t right for you.”
Isaiah leaned back and laughed. “She’s perfect for me. Smart. Beautiful. Good family. No scandals.”
Kevin’s head fell back and he made a snoring sound. “Boring.”
Isaiah grinned at his friend’s theatrics. “Reliable. I’d much rather trust my future with her than someone I don’t know. You know how exhausting dating is? I don’t want to meet some new woman’s mom, dad, sisters and brothers. I don’t want to have to figure out if she’s really into me or hoping to be the next star of celebrity wives. I know and trust Bridget.”
“You can trust her to tie your balls in a knot,” Kevin grumbled. “And not in the good way.”
Isaiah raised a brow. “There’s a good way?”
Jack stopped the tattoo gun to stare at Isaiah. “Of course there’s a good way.”
Isaiah waved a hand. “Oh, well, then enlighten me.”
Kevin pointed at Isaiah with his free hand. “You want a woman who drives you crazy and makes you laugh. Someone who heats your blood with just a look. A woman that’ll cuss you out when you’re being a fool, but you know she’ll always have your back.”
“That sounds like a recipe for drama.” Isaiah couldn’t keep the distaste out of his voice.
“It’s a recipe for excitement,” Kevin said. “She challenges you, pushes you, and you might not like it all the time, you may argue, but making up again?” Kevin grinned and nodded. “That makes everything worth it.”
Isaiah laughed. “No harm, but that doesn’t sound like the type of marriage I want.”
“Hell, what can I say? That didn’t work for my marriage, either.” Kevin said in a teasing voice, but Isaiah caught the glimpse of regret in his eye.
Kevin had married his college sweetheart and she’d divorced him after five years. Then he’d had another long-term relationship that had ended a few years ago. He’d admitted to his mistakes in those relationships, and joked about being a failure at long-term commitment. The only good thing he claimed from his rocky relationships was his kids. Even though he often joked about his past, Isaiah suspected his failed relationships hurt more than he let on.
“But we’re not talking about me,” Kevin said, his cheerful voice back. “You’re champing at the bit to find a wife and have a pack of kids. I get it—your parents have a beautiful union and you like stability. You’re that guy.”
“That guy?” Isaiah asked.
“The relationship guy. That’s cool. We need guys like you out there. It’s good for team testosterone to have decent men out there, but don’t let your visions of a perfect family lead you to marrying the wrong woman. Divorce isn’t fun. Believe me.”
“Bridget isn’t the wrong woman. That’s why I asked her to move to Jacksonville. When I get married I want to stay married. I know Bridget and she knows me. We both want the same things and our families love each other. She’s perfect.”
Jack glanced at Isaiah quickly before going back to the tattoo. “Perfect doesn’t mean you want to sleep with her every night.”
Heat filled Isaiah’s face and he flipped his cell phone again. “We’re compatible in every way if that’s what you’re getting at.”
It had been a while since they’d slept together. And the last time had been rushed, when they’d both been in the same city a year ago and only had a few hours before she had to catch a flight. He’d always thought their sex life was decent, until he’d heard the stories the guys told. Then he realized his and Bridget’s sex life had always been tame. There was nothing wrong with tame…it just made him wonder about wild.
Kevin shook his head. “Big deal. Most women are decent in bed. She’s moving here because you asked her to. Are you burning to see her in here?” Kevin placed a fist over his heart. “Is she all up in your head? Are you twisting, turning and downright yearning for her to get here so you can get your arms around her?”
Twisting and turning, yes. But not out of anticipation. More out of a sense of anxiety. Was asking her here the right thing? That wasn’t something to talk about now. Kevin was his friend, but Jack didn’t need insight on Isaiah’s boring romantic life. “Of course,” he said quickly. Kevin’s look said Isaiah was full of crap.
Isaiah focused on his phone and checked social media. He thought about the last time a woman had heated his blood. Still thinking about Angel. Isaiah clenched the phone and his teeth. He needed to stop thinking of Angel, but not thinking of her was nearly impossible. Dark sparkling eyes, full luscious lips, curves… Damn, the woman’s curves were amazing. Smooth, golden tan skin that had sparkled with a glittery lotion that smelled as enticing as she looked. And that thick dark hair—he’d wanted to reach out and touch it.
Angel was the perfect name. If that was her real name. The bartender at Sweethearts gentlemen’s club probably used a fake name, just like the dancers did.
Their conversation had lasted all night. He’d felt a connection, but wasn’t that supposed to be what he felt? Women at the strip club worked to make connections so patrons spent more money. Even though he’d wanted to ask for her number, he’d made himself walk away instead of shattering the illusion if she turned him down.
“What are you guys doing tonight?” Isaiah asked.
“Some of the fellas are going to Sweethearts. I’m not feeling it. I’d rather burn my money on something else.”
The jump shot of anticipation at the mention of Sweethearts made Isaiah’s heart dribble against his rib cage. He took a slow breath to steady the beat. He didn’t need to go back there.
“Why aren’t you feeling it?” Isaiah asked.
“I promised Chanel I’d take her to Hawaii.”
Kevin’s latest fling. Isaiah cocked his head and smirked at Kevin. “She give you the burning feeling you were telling me about?”
“Hell no. Chanel is only looking for a good time. That’s all I’m good for.” Before Isaiah could comment on the grim tone of his friend’s admission, Kevin got a knowing look in his gray eyes. “Are you going to the club?”
Isaiah grunted and shook his head. “Nah. What for?”
Kevin just grinned. He’d teased Isaiah about Angel for a week after the team celebrated at Sweethearts. Teased him and called him a damn fool for not getting her number. According to Will Hampton, another friend and teammate, her not giving him her number was unlikely. Perks of being a professional athlete, he’d said, but Will was the type of guy not many women said no to.
Isaiah wasn’t going to bring Angel back into the conversation. Bad enough her sexy laugh and beautiful smile still popped up in his dreams. “You’ll be back from Hawaii in time for camp?” He stood and looked at the pictures on the wall.
“Just going for a weekend. I’ll be back,” Kevin said.
One of the pictures on the wall caught Isaiah’s attention. He walked over for a closer look. The five curved lines arranged in a star shape reminded him of the tattoo Angel had on her wrist. The African symbol for strength.
A reminder that I can handle anything that comes my way. I’m strong enough to take care of me.
; Her voice had held a trace of some lingering pain. He’d wanted to know what it was so he could wipe it clean away. But he’d changed the subject. Teased that he would get a shark tattoo because it was his favorite animal. She’d laughed and he’d fallen into her spell.
Too bad life wasn’t just about going with instinct, the way a shark did. Instinct would have him back at the club tonight. There were consequences to consider. Plans to be made. Plans that didn’t involve falling for a bartender with a beautiful smile after already asking the “perfect” woman to move to his town and talk about their future.
CHAPTER 3
Angela fought to keep the professional smile on her face as she listened to the volunteer sitting across from her desk give another excuse for not visiting the child she was assigned to this month. Olivia Parker was a decent lady. She was retired from the school system, had friendly brown eyes and a matronly appearance. She’d heard about the need for advocates when Angela’s supervisor was interviewed by the local news six months ago and immediately came in to volunteer. Except she always had an excuse for why she couldn’t put in the time.
Everyone in the office was assigned a group of volunteers to organize and ensure the kids they represented had someone to check in on them. Angela’s volunteers rarely missed visits because she was constantly touching base with them. Ms. Parker was her coworker Jerry’s volunteer. He’d asked her to deal with Ms. Parker because he “couldn’t be mean to someone who reminded him of his grandmother.” The real excuse: he didn’t know how to manage his volunteers.
“You understand, Angela, why I didn’t make it this month. Between my husband getting sick, the drama with my sister and Pickle’s surgery, it just slipped my mind,” Olivia said in a pleading voice.
Angela took a deep breath. Pickle was Ms. Parker’s miniature schnauzer. “I do understand, but it is also very important that our volunteers personally see their assigned child every month. That’s the only way we can ensure they’re adapting to their new foster home and are making any scheduled court appearances or visits with their parents. I’ll work with Jerry to cover your visit tomorrow, but please let Jerry know ahead of time if you can’t make next month’s visit.”
Olivia bobbed her head up and down. “No. No. I’ll go first thing in the morning. I understand and I promise I won’t miss next month. I’ll be sure to visit not just once, but—”
“Twice.” Angela forced her smile to remain. “I know.” She glanced at the clock and stood. This meeting with Ms. Parker had gone past five o’clock. Angela needed to be out of the office and on the road right at five to dodge the worst of the traffic before picking up Cory and getting him back to her apartment, where her neighbor, Nate, watched him while she worked nights at Sweethearts.
Angela stood, which prompted Ms. Parker to do so, as well. Ms. Parker liked to talk and she would easily go on for another thirty minutes about her dog and husband if Angela didn’t end the conversation. “Thanks again for your service, Ms. Parker. We can’t look out for the kids without the dedication of volunteers like you.”
Ms. Parker blushed and nodded and said again how sorry she was as Angela ushered her out of the office. Why people like Ms. Parker would go through the rigorous training and background checks necessary to volunteer with the child advocacy office only to flake out on responsibilities every other month didn’t make much sense to Angela. It was a constant source of frustration. The kids were the ones who suffered; things were missed when there wasn’t consistent contact with them. Angela knew because she’d lived it. If she’d had someone looking out for her after her parents died, maybe her aunt wouldn’t have found it so easy to steal her inheritance. That was the reason she’d gone into social work. She wanted to make sure no other kid was taken advantage of by the people who were supposed to protect them.
She poked her head into Jerry’s office, which was next to hers, but he wasn’t there. A quick check with the admin assistant and she learned Jerry was gone for the day.
“He did tell me to thank you for handling Ms. Parker,” Martha said.
Angela bit back her annoyance and took a deep breath. At least Ms. Parker had been reprimanded, and hopefully wouldn’t neglect her duties next month. Angela went back to her office, powered down her computer and scooped up her purse. Ten after five. Maybe enough time to hit the road and get to Cory before the activity center charged her for being late picking him up. It was his first week of basketball camp. She didn’t want to be late the first day and start off as “that parent.”
Somebody in heaven liked her because Angela arrived at the activity center at exactly five-twenty-nine. She jumped out of the car and raced into the building. The young guy working the front desk smiled and didn’t charge her for being two minutes late by their clock, then directed her to the gym, where Cory was waiting. She thanked the guy, glanced at her watch and hurried to the gym. Okay, pick up Cory, drive like a maniac back home, thank Nate again for being an awesome neighbor and get to second job.
Angela grabbed the door to the gym and pulled. Someone shoved the door from the other side and she stumbled back. Her heels slipped on the floor. A large hand wrapped around her wrist and prevented her from impersonating a flipped pancake.
Awareness prickled up her arm from the strong hand around her wrist. Her gaze lifted all the way up to a pair of dark, sexy eyes. Her heart stumbled worse than her feet and air sprinted from her lungs like an Olympic runner. Isaiah Reynolds.
He was wearing a sleeveless red athletic shirt, so the lean muscles of his arms were bared. Basketball shorts partially covered sculpted legs long enough to make a redwood jealous. If a tree could get jealous. The spice of sweat and his own masculine scent swirled through her senses and made her knees wobbly. Recognition brightened his warm brown eyes. For a split second, he seemed happy and surprised, then his brow furrowed and his lips, the lower one fuller and so damn kissable, twisted into a frown.
“Angel?” he said in a tone that was as smooth as silk and ran over her just as seductively.
Angela swallowed hard and tried to ignore the heat spreading through her body. She wanted him, which meant she had to avoid him at all costs for the remainder of the camp. Otherwise he’d have her with a crook of his finger and a smile.
* * *
Isaiah’s fingers tightened around Angel’s small wrist. He’d recognized her instantly. Gone were the sparkly white angel wings she wore behind the bar at Sweethearts. A tasteful gray button-up shirt replaced the white tank top he’d last seen her in, although the garment still hugged her perfectly rounded breasts. A fitted black pencil skirt silhouetted full hips instead of tight black pants. No glittery makeup enhanced her eyes, which were so brown and deep he could forget the world while holding her gaze. Perfect lips parted and the sweet scent of flowers surrounded him.
He wanted to draw her closer. He’d thought of her constantly after their conversation at the bar that night. The excitement of literally bumping into her again nearly made him step closer, breathe in her soft perfume, get lost in her eyes. Why was she here?
“Angela.” Her low seductive voice broke through his daze.
He blinked. “What?”
“My name is Angela. Not Angel.”
Of course. Angel suited her better, though. Her lips curved into a hesitant smile that snatched his ability to think. To breathe. Talk.
Man, he hated this. Seeing her made him feel like the awkward, tongue-tied teenager he used to be. The quiet kid who didn’t know how to talk to girls. Put a basketball in his hands, get him in front of a crowd of reporters discussing his latest game or business venture, and he knew exactly what to do. Have a pretty woman he liked smile at him and his voice box disconnected from his brain.
She was really here. And now she was frowning. Which meant he was just staring instead of talking.
Isaiah let go of her wrist and took a step back.
“What are you doing here?” Props to him for keeping his voice normal. Maturity had at least given him the ability to hide his discomfort better.
“Aunt Angela, you know Isaiah Reynolds?” Cory, the boy Isaiah had quickly noticed during the camp, spoke up. Cory had been quiet, a bit sullen, especially when the girls in the camp were around, but he was great with a basketball. Reminded Isaiah a little of himself. Maybe more than a little.
Isaiah looked at the young boy, then back at Angel… Angela. “This is your aunt?”
Cory nodded. Angela reached for the silver charm on her necklace and played with it. Her slim fingers brushed the smooth caramel skin of her chest exposed by the V-neck opening of her blouse. That night in the bar, the lace edges of a black bra peaked out from the scooped neckline of her tank top. Was she wearing a lace bra today? He was tall enough. All he’d have to do is lean a little toward her and he’d be able to see down that V…
Isaiah took another step back. What the hell? You’re not Cory’s age. No staring down her blouse.
“I am,” Angela said.
An uneasy thought crept into Isaiah’s brain. People went to great lengths just to be close to a professional athlete. He may still occasionally get tongue-tied around a beautiful woman, but he wasn’t stupid.
“Did you—did you sign him up…because of me?”
Her eyes widened for a second. Her hand dropped from the necklace. She slowly turned to Cory. “Can you go wait for me by the car?”
Cory raised an eyebrow. “What for?”
“Because I said so. Now go to the car.”
Cory let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. ’Bye, Mr. Reynolds.” He waved, then shuffled away, mumbling something under his breath.