by Lila Price
Dammit, why can’t I just say no?
Eli clearly knows his power over me, because he ushers me forward with a sweep of his hand. But as I slip into the buttery leather beauty of his car, he just can’t help himself.
“Fine, I am a little hungry,” I mumble as I get inside.
“Good. Because I’m about to fill you right up,” he replies darkly.
I think he’s not even talking about the food at the Hula Shack.
As he closes the door, I buckle in, my heart stomping in a stimulated, nerve-riddled frenzy.
Chapter 4
Even if it’s past lunchtime and long before most people usually eat dinner, the Hula Shack is going to be flooded with customers. But that’s no issue for Eli Brennan.
Before we’ve left Randal Preston’s house, he’s taken my order and contacted his personal assistant on the phone. After he hangs up, he rests his rocked arm on the steering wheel and looks at me with that wicked blue gaze.
I try not to be affected. “Must be nice to never have to stand in line like the common folk.” Folk like me, who descended from parents who never went to college, much less gave birth to a guy who ran around like royalty on a campus. The closest Dad and Mom ever got to ruling their own dynasty was when they started their own house cleaning business to make ends meet.
“I am common folk,” Eli says.
I laugh.
“Haven’t you heard?” he asks. “I grew up middle class all the way, with an older brother and a younger one, surrounded by picket fences.”
“I think you’re forgetting the talent scouts and lucrative offers of employment.”
“Those only came along after I earned them.”
I shrug as if none of it matters to me. “Fine.”
“In case you think I’m acting high and mighty by using an assistant to order the food,” he says, “I’m only having her make arrangements for the Hula Shack’s VIP room.”
“VIP? Isn’t this just a burger place?”
“It’s Vegas, baby.”
As he starts his car’s engine, he reaches over to tug on one of the damp curls that escaped from my clip. The unexpected gesture sends a million shivers through me, each and every one of them like a tiny explosion that pops and sparks until I feel myself go humid between my legs. Maybe if I weren’t so inexperienced with guys, I wouldn’t be so easily turned on by him, but I have the feeling that Eli doesn’t have to put out too much effort to get in a girl’s panties anyway.
He pulls onto the long driveway that leads to the gates. I shift in my seat to face him.
“I’m not really dressed for a VIP room, even if it’s in the Hula Shack,” I say.
“It’s not a dress-up kind of place, even for a VIP. Besides, I don’t think you know how good you look.”
As we pause for the gates to open, he takes his time scanning my legs, eyes moving upward in one long breath-holding caress. When he gets to my face, his eyes lock with mine, and an electric charge surges between us. It singes me, and all I can do is look away.
Why am I here again? How am I here?
He drives us away from Lake Las Vegas, where one beautiful house follows another with their infinity swimming pools and guest cottages and majestic, grassy-flowered landscapes. I’ve cleaned a few of these places, and the thought of my job—and my real station in life—brings today’s events back in a rush.
I already have someone in mind for a fake fiancé.
The bathmats need cleaning. Get on that.
Eli makes a move to turn on the stereo, but then seems to think better of it. His grip tightens on the wheel.
“The last thing you probably expected to hear today was a business proposal like the one Randal came up with,” he says.
It’s as if he’s testing me about our weird day. “I told you that I understand why you brought my name up. You were playing your boss’s game, one-upping him with an even more outlandish suggestion. It was nothing more than a joke.”
“It was?”
My heart jerks inside my chest, but I play it off. “Cut it out, Brennan.”
“Eli,” he says.
“Whatever. My point is that the joke’s gone far enough. I’ll take your burger and shake as a peace offering, but let’s not pretend we both don’t know what’s really going on.”
He doesn’t say anything. It’s just the whir of tires over asphalt now, the sound of the wind blasting against the windshield. He takes one corner with daredevil speed as we fly toward the freeway, and I hold onto my seat for dear life. But I’m not afraid—not really. I feel more alive than I have in a long time.
If ever I did feel this way before, nothing comes to mind.
He finally says something. “And what do you think is really going on?”
“Far be it from me to know. I’m just the cleaning lady.”
“Jesus.” There’s exasperation in his voice, and now he does switch on some music—loud, thrashing rock that shakes the car as he accelerates onto the freeway.
It doesn’t take us long to arrive at the Hula Shack, where Eli valet parks next to an entrance in back, away from the long line out front. He helps me out of the car and rests his hand in the small of my back, guiding me toward the plain door.
Just his touch is enough to make my clit buzz, but I ignore the sensation as we’re seated in a cozy booth where grass walls block us off from the other customers. Within a minute, a tiki-shirted waiter brings us our orders, and Eli digs into his three burgers, triple order of fries, and two rocky road shakes. I’m pretty sure he’s already forgotten about our conversation in the car…thank God.
“When’s the last time you ate?” I ask.
“I’m famished.” He leans his elbows on the table and leans toward me. He’s got that wolfish gleam in his eyes again because he’s obviously not talking about food now. I still can’t believe this ultimate flirt is looking at me like this, with wanting, with raw desire.
Me.
“From what I hear,” I say, picking up a French fry, “you’re always craving something…or someone.” I dip the fry in catsup then delicately eat it.
“Didn’t I tell you not to believe everything you hear about me?” He’s already polished off the first burger and he’s going for the second one.
“You told me that in so many words.” And he did mention a so-called sex addiction. “Are you saying that you’re not a ladies’ man?”
He swallows, then wipes his mouth. As he sets down what’s left of his burger, he fixes that all-consuming gaze on me. “I don’t deny that at all. I love women—the way they smell, the graceful way they walk, the softness of their skin…”
Have mercy. It’s as if his voice itself is inching up my skirt. His words are like fingertips skimming my thighs, teasing me, making me want to slide down the upholstery and into a pool of pure need.
It was a mistake to go anywhere with him, even a place where we’re surrounded.
“Is it so bad to like women?” he asks, leaning even closer, so close that I can smell the sun on his skin and the scent of soap.
I start to clear my throat, then stop myself. “It is when it gets you into so much trouble.”
“Womanizing’s not the reason I’m in the team doghouse. It’s the other shit I’ve done that got me there. No, Jenna, I’m good to women. Real good.”
I need to blow out a slow breath, but I can’t, because I’ll give away the fact that there’s steam building up in the very center of me. I’ll give away that my heart is pumping so fast that I can hear it in my ears and feel the wild pulse in my neck, between my legs.
He lowers his voice even more, and I can barely hear him over the Hawaiian music and the thrum of muted conversation around the room.
“When’s the last time you were treated well?”
Uh…never? But that’s because I’ve never been in the game. I’m not about to tell him that though. He’d laugh his ass off at a twenty-two-year-old virgin. It almost makes me laugh some nights when I’m alone in bed
, touching myself, wishing…
Yeah. Always wishing.
“Well, then,” I say, picking up my mint and chip shake, and breaking the moment. “Since you’re so good to women, it sounds like you should have no problem finding that fake fiancé—if you ever come around to the idea. A PR makeover actually could work if you get the media on your side.”
“Yeah, about that fake fiancé…”
A bead of ice-sweat from my cup wiggles down the back of my hand as I hold on.
Eli grins. “I wasn’t kidding about you…and me…in a business deal.”
As if in slow motion, a ceiling fan blows around the fronds on the walls. Someone laughs too loudly from another table, echoing my sentiments.
I shake off this latest joke, because that’s what it has to be. A big, cruel joke. “Stop kidding around about this.”
His gaze has gotten even more intense. “Hear me out. I know we met just today, and we don’t know each other—”
“At all.”
“—but you said earlier that you need that cleaning job. That tells me you wouldn’t mind some extra money. A lot of extra money.”
Although he doesn’t name a dollar amount, he lets his words sink in, and boy, do they ever. It’s almost unthinkable that he might be offering me a better life on a silver platter. Even a little more money could mean that I wouldn’t have to clean bathmats for Randal and Lulu Preston anymore. I might finally be able to go to school, and so would my little sister someday. Maybe Dad wouldn’t even have to clean houses—he could comfortably run the business from a desk, and we could hire more help and expand our client base. But most of all…
Tears burn my throat when I entertain the nearly impossible notion of getting those meds and treatment for Mom’s Parkinson’s.
To distract myself, I drink from my shake, but I’m sloppy. My hands are trembling, and my aim is bad. Some of the minty cream dabs the corner of my mouth.
Slowly, Eli reaches over and whisks his thumb over that sensitive spot. A heartbeat passes, one that throbs all the way through me, and as he strokes my lower lip, I swallow. Hard. Then he skims his fingers over my jaw, cupping me there and guiding my gaze to his. My skin is flushed, warmed through and through, especially once I see what’s in his eyes.
There’s an inexplicable understanding there, as if he’s the only one who can get past my defenses and read what’s really inside me.
Before he can see too much, I gird myself once again, but this time it’s with a flippant smile, just like the one he usually levels on me.
“You can’t afford me,” I say lightly. Then I shrug like nothing matters but this uneaten burger in front of me, and I take a healthy bite of it.
As he watches me eat, I can see that he’s not comfortable with the naked moment that just passed between us, and all I can do is give thanks for that. It’s fine to flirt with Eli Brennan, but after this burger, I’m out. No more looking into one another’s eyes. No more preposterous fake fiancé talk.
However, this man didn’t earn his reputation by letting anything get away from him, whether it’s a football, a Heisman, or his future.
“If it’s the last thing I do today,” he says on nearly a growl, “I’m going to change your mind, Jenna.”
And when I feel his fingers on my knee beneath the table, spreading my legs, my traitorous body can do nothing but give in.
Chapter 5
It’s as if my knees couldn’t care less about what my common sense is saying as Eli urges them apart. Cool air hushes under my skirt, breathing against my legs, and I’m almost sure I hear the damp sound of my sex as I open for him.
He strokes a finger along the inside of my thigh. “How much would it take to get you to work with me, Jenna?”
How much of this would it take? Because, right now, all he has to do is move a few inches higher and he’ll have me.
Then common sense finally clicks in my head, and I abruptly cross one leg over the other, away from him. He sits back with a grin, and I send one right back at him.
“As I told you,” I say, “even a superstar like you doesn’t have enough money in the bank.”
I don’t know how I do it, but I take a slow, you-won’t-get-the-best-of-me sip of my mint shake then set it down on the table. I scoot out of the booth.
“Where’re you going?” he asks in amused disbelief.
I merely shrug as I walk away. I like how he watches me with an entertained yet ruthless gleam in his gaze. I like how much power his lust gives me, and after passing the other closed-off booths, I go down a red-shaded hallway and find the restroom, then shut the door behind me.
I head for the mirrors. The dark-wooded, sensual salon with its bamboo-and-brass love seats and sheer sunset-colored curtains is reflected in back of me as I lean my hands on the counter.
He wants this, I think as I stare at myself. My skin is tanned, but it doesn’t hide the flush of excitement on my cheeks. My hair is its usual clipped-back mess, one stray curl bobbing near my face. My eyes…God, they’re brighter than I’ve ever seen them, a vivid blue instead of the dismal gray I’m used to.
My heart is pounding as if there’s a time bomb inside of me, a loud tick-tick that’s getting louder and louder.
All it would take from me is a yes to Eli Brennan. So what’s stopping me? For one thing, he and I met only a few hours ago. For another…?
There’re so many reasons to hesitate. But are there any true deal breakers?
Go back there and just hear him out, I think. What would be the harm? It’s not as if he would break my heart or something. I would be a fiancé for hire. This would be all business, a transaction…
I shake off the next thought. Prostitution. But there’s a difference between what Eli is proposing and that. Isn’t there?
The illicit idea sends a quiver through me until I’m interrupted by a woman who emerges from around a corner. Based on her flowery mumu, nametag, and the cloth she has draped over her arm, she must be the restroom attendant. I duck into a stall.
Afterward, I wash my hands and realize that I probably have two dollars at the most in my skirt pocket. With an apologetic smile, I place the money in her tip jar and leave. But I don’t even get five steps out the door and into the dim hallway before I feel a strong arm wrapping around my waist and drawing me backward.
I gasp just before Eli lightly pins me against a wall in the corner. He looms over me, tall, feral, and hunched down so that his forehead is pressed against mine, and I instinctively lever my hands against his wide, strong chest. He’s a wall of muscle, and his hands grip my hips, his thumbs rubbing up and down my hipbones until my clit throbs.
“What’re you doing?” I breathe.
“Making sure you don’t run out of our negotiation again.”
He’s only teasing me, but I like this, too—his cockiness, his confidence in the absolute fact that no woman in her right mind would actually ditch him.
“I don’t run away from anything.” My voice wobbles a little. Get a hold of yourself, Jenna.
“I suspected you wouldn’t take off, but I wanted to make sure.”
He casually braces his arm above my head. At the same time, my gaze scans the reddened hallway to see if anyone is around.
Laughing, he obviously notices my anxiety. “If anyone did see us here, that would work to our advantage. They’d think I’m so head over heels that I can’t keep my hands off of you.”
As if to prove his point, he brushes his other palm up my waist. Before I can gather my wits, he gently rubs his knuckles against the side of my breast, and I inhale sharply at the carnal shock.
He’s so damned casual about it that I can almost believe this isn’t happening. I’m not even stopping him. Hell, no—not when, underneath my blouse, my nipples are getting hard, straining against the linen. Not when my skin is goose bumping and a thrill is zinging through my belly down to my center, buzzing there in anticipation.
“You like that,” he whispers. “Don’t you?”
As if I’m going to say no. “I’m only human.”
He keeps slowly brushing his knuckles against my breast, bringing me to my tiptoes as I move with every motion, trying to stop myself but failing miserably.
God, I really like this.
“Just admit it,” he whispers. “We could make a hell of a team in a deal that would benefit the both of us. All you have to do…”
With even more arrogance, he deftly slides down the strap of my blouse until the material catches just over my turned-on nipple.
I think I hear his breathing hitch right before he finishes.
“…is make a deal with me.”
Should I shove him away? But I want his fingers to go a little lower, to touch me right there, and for the first time ever I’ve got the opportunity to feel good, desired by a gorgeous man.
My body’s way too willing to say yes a thousand times over to him.
He pulls down my blouse even more, and I look down to see my nipple, peaked and ready for him. My chest is rising with the fast breaths I’m taking. No hiding how aroused I am now.
A throbbing moment passes. Then another as he mercilessly waits for my response. I stifle a needful whimper, and he eases his thumb over the tip of me, as if he hears the yes in the bare sound I’ve made. Encouraged, he increases the pressure, circling over me as he watches my soft, pink nub get harder. I ache for him to bend down, to take me into his mouth and suck. Just the thought of it builds up such an overwhelming pressure in me that I feel like I might explode any second.
Tick, tick, tick, tick…
Instead, he leans down to whisper in my ear.
“Tell me you want this, Jenna, just as much as I do. Tell me you’ve imagined me inside of you.”
His damp breath, traced with sweet chocolate from his shake, stirs my hair. He rubs his lips against my ear, and my clit swells with a pounding, wet heat.
Yes, I really want this. But I’m not for hire—at least not in that kind of way…