“Uh, I, well, have to clean up, and then, well, my break’s coming up, uh.” Why is my tongue not working? Why isn’t G saying anything? Hello? You, back there? She’s never around when there’s any cleaning to do.
“I’ll pack up,” Todd says. “Show Mr. Jay around. Have lunch, dinner, a massage.” He yanks me from behind the table and pats my behind. “Go get them, tigress. Rrrrr…”
Jay’s eyes widen slightly. “Tigress, I’ll be sure to ask for you at the spa. My neck’s sore from the flight. Sixteen hours and two layovers.”
“Ah, I can show you where the spa is, and I’m Jessica.”
“Just sick? I’m sorry. When you feel better I’ll order the massage. You Korean?”
There goes that eye twinkle or half wink again as if he’s using the ‘I’m a foreigner, I don’t know the language that well’ excuse to mangle my name. Either that or he’s got something in his eye.
“Half. My mother’s Filipina and my father’s from Korea. I know a few words like Ann-yeong and sa-rang hae-yo.”
“Hello, I love you,” he translates, and his wide mouth stretches over sparkly white teeth.
Oh, please, how cheesy. My goddess blushes with embarrassment. You need flirting lessons, pronto.
That’s what I have you for, goddess of love wannabe.
“Uh, I mean, that’s all I know, my father, you know, that’s what he says to my mom,” I mumble, my face flushed and hot as I redirect his attention to his conference materials. “Got everything you need?”
“Just about.” Jay scoops up his duffle bag, folders, and tote bags. A pen slips from a folder as he hooks a long finger through his goodie bag. One of the plastic handles break and food and sports supplement samples spill onto the carpet.
I dive for a yogurt container right when he bends for it. His duffle bag swings around and crashes into a arrangement of lilies. I try to catch the flowers, but the pot slips through my fingers and lands upside down. A juice box explodes under my flip-flops and sprays my bare legs as I tumble to the ground, my face planting in the lump of potting soil.
A child’s voice says, “Daddy, look at the clown. She knocked down the flowers.”
“Ha, ha, ha, that was good.” Jay claps. “Is this what they call vaudeville?”
My jaw slams to the ground. I need some help here and he’s laughing along with the children?
I sit up on my haunches and dust my face. The juice splattered over me makes the dirt sticky, and I’m sure my white shorts are Hawaiian punch colored.
“Need some help?” Jay reaches for me.
“About time.” I take his hand. Bam, his lethal duffle bag swings like a battering ram into my face.
A crowd of children shriek with laughter. One boy grabs the upended plant basket and smashes me over the head. Stalks of lilies tangle in my hair, and potting soil water drips over my eyebrows.
“More, more, more,” the children chant.
“Show’s over. Thank you, thank you.” Todd takes my hand and lifts it. “Take a bow.”
What else can I do? I have potting soil in my eyelashes and I’m marinated in fruit punch. I bow and manage to escape while Todd waves his bandana signals and throws candy into the crowd.
So much for the sexy siren act or at least the perky intern come-on. I settle for fruit punch dirt queen and duck for the service stairs.
I don’t know her, G whistles in the wind. She’s not with me.
Shut it. I’m trading you in for a goddess who’ll help.
I stomp down the hall. I’m halfway to my room when I hear footsteps. “Tigress, wait up.”
What now? Does the rookie of the year need a babysitter?
Jay catches me, leaving a trail of coupons and flyers. Fumbling in his orientation folder, he says, “I can’t find my keycard, and I need to use the bathroom. Sixteen hours is a long flight.”
Gah. Don’t tell me he hasn’t peed since Korea.
“Come with me.” I yank the folder from him and powerwalk to my door.
Jay rushes in as soon as I slide the keycard. There’s a man scream and a thump, followed by a door slam and the sound of fluid hitting the toilet bowl.
“Who’s that?” Preston Jook, the guy who’s pretending to be my boyfriend, points at the closed bathroom door, then grimaces as he takes in the dirt and juice I’m bathed in. “And what the hell happened to you?”
“Long story. How’d you get into my room?”
He waves a keycard. “Easy. I showed them we were in a relationship on Facebook and they gave me a card.”
For the fourth time in the last hour, my jaw scrapes the floor. “But we’re not really in a relationship. It’s Facebook only. They can’t be handing out keycards to anyone who walks by.”
He flashes me a cheesy grin, looking as strained as a constipated child. “Lesson eight. I flirted with the receptionist. Mastered the art of charm. I complimented her clean good looks and how this hotel excels in customer service. She was eating it up, telling me how she scored the highest in all rubrics. Of course, the highest scoring service agent couldn’t turn down my woeful tale about wanting to surprise my girlfriend with an engagement ring.”
Part of me’s proud of Preston’s achievement. The middle child of an academically enriched family, he was so lacking in polish and charm that his father hired me to improve his image. Three months ago, he could never have pulled off a keycard heist on the strength of a Facebook relationship status.
“Good for you.” I pat Preston’s back. “I’ll write this up in my report for your father. Now you have to leave since I’m a mess and there’s a famous baseball player in my bathroom.”
The bathroom door opens, and gulp. The ballplayer, major league pitcher to be exact, fills the entire door frame.
“Jay Pak!” Preston squeals. “I love you. 2.49 earned run average, a 97-mph fastball. And you’re here in America. Squee!”
Chapter 2
~Jessica~
I lock the bathroom door and crank up the shower, leaving fanboy Preston and godman Jay to get acquainted. Poor Jay will have a hard time understanding anything motor-mouth Preston has to say. Having Preston around will keep things from getting too awkward, especially since my dormant hormones are dancing all over my sticky, soiled skin wishing like heck I could drag that hunk of a ballplayer into the shower with me. Yeah, right, if I could only be so bold.
Peeling off my sticky shorts, I shake my clothes over the wastebasket before stepping into the steamy shower. I lather up my hair and let the soapy water shimmy its way down my skin. Grabbing the removable showerhead, I switch it to pulsing mode.
Oh, yeah, my inner G-spot finally chimes in. Pulsing mode, bring it on.
And where were you while I was getting doused with fruit punch? So, tell me, what do you think about Jay?
Inner G studies her fingernails and blows, twisting her lips. He’s cute, in a quirky way, but he’s not exactly a Greek god. I’m looking for Apollo or someone of his stature.
Shut it, you’re stuck inside of me and I’m Asian. Go find a Greek girl to haunt. Besides, I don’t need your approval.
You asked, she goes back to cleaning her cuticles.
Ignoring her, I palm my breast and hold the showerhead close to rinse off the flecks of peat, sand, and composted bark. My nipples perk at the stimulation, and I lazily caress them as I rub off the remnants of dirt.
Jay’s hand looks huge enough to cover my entire breast. Would he be rough or seductively skillful?
I close my eyes and imagine his sleek lips pursed around my nipples, sucking and flicking. His large, splayed pitcher’s hands would fondle me possessively. My breathing quickens and the area between my legs tighten with need.
I can almost feel his hot tongue and greedy lips trailing the handheld showerhead from my breasts, over my waist, and around my hips. Leaning against the tile enclosure, I open my legs and wiggle the spray so that the hot pulses dance over my sweet spot.
This is bad, real bad. I’m so sex starved t
hat I’m fantasizing about a man I just met. But then, I did take vacation to spend time here in Arizona to get back on my feet as far as men are concerned. My hips wiggle with the assault of the showerhead, spiraling tingling sensations from between my legs to the tips of my toes. Inner G can keep playing solitaire while she holds out for a Greek god. As for me, Asian Jay’s way hotter. Yum, yum, yum.
Pound, pound, pound. Someone bangs on the door.
Yikes! I drop the handheld and it flops against the wall, spraying my face. I shut off the water, gasping to catch my breath.
“Hey, we’re hungry,” Preston shouts. “Jay just got back from his shower. What’s taking you so long?”
Jay showered? Why, oh why, couldn’t we have done it together? Did I really think that? Oh gosh. Todd would be proud.
“Give me a minute, will you? I have to rinse the shampoo from my hair.”
More like I need an ice cold soaking. I turn on the water and push the heat selector all the way to blue. Yow! A bucket of ice chills me from head to toe, dousing the heat and fantasies. I dance and shiver long enough to rinse the soap and shampoo, then do a quick touchup with my razor.
Who am I fooling? I’ll never get lucky with a major leaguer, especially one who’s already a star in his home country. He probably has Korean actresses and models lined up, maybe a fiancée waiting.
Besides, some of the hottest looking guys are the worst in bed. I should know. But then, Jay isn’t just hot, he’s an athlete, a pitcher, which means he has to be coordinated with great aim.
G looks up from her solitaire spread, You have to kiss a lot of frogs, Jessie, before you meet your prince.
I’m tired of frog kissing, you know. A girl’s lips can only take so much. Besides, frogs eat flies, and that’s plain gross.
Not if they’re Greek.
You know, G, Greek guys aren’t that great in the showering department.
She goes back to her game of solitaire.
I dry myself with one of the oversized towels and pick up my dirty clothes. I forgot to bring clean ones into the bathroom.
“Hey, Preston.” I crack open the bathroom door. “Can you and Jay step into the hall? I have to dress.”
The doorknob is yanked from my fingertips.
“What did you say?” Preston holds his hand to his ear, looking too amused to have really not heard.
Behind him, Jay’s jaw drops. His narrow eyes slither around the outline of my thankfully oversized towel and come back up to meet my gaze. His Adam’s apple bobbles and he wets his lips. I swallow hard when I notice his thumb rubbing his fingers in a small circular motion. Yow!
I’m staring so hard at Jay, wondering if he guessed what I’ve been up to, knowing he’s thinking of using those fingers on me, and well, so caught in the act that I don’t notice Preston until a well aimed flash ignites from the back of his yellow camera phone.
“You! Erase that.”
He snaps another picture and I’m on his tail. He jumps onto one double bed, then leaps to the other one.
“Nyah, nyah, nyah,” Preston teases. “This is epic. Epic.”
He trains the phone on Jay who’s behind me, probably staring at me or shocked silly.
“Give me that phone, you big brat.” I head for Preston.
He whips the phone aside and runs behind Jay. I swing my arm at Preston to grab the phone but hit Jay in the groin.
Dang if I know what happens next. My towel flings off. Jay bends double, his breath sizzling between his teeth and Preston exits the hotel room.
I smash into the slamming door and bounce back, landing on Jay, who’s sitting on my towel.
“Are you alright?” I gasp as he steadies me with his hands, his large player hands.
I cover my breasts, my eyes locking on to his. Time seems to slow as his expression levels from outrage and pain to wow-what-just-landed-on-my-lap?
One large thumb feathers the soft skin under my lower lip. I hardly dare to breathe lest my breasts jiggle against his chest. Water drips from my hair, wetting his khaki pants, and the heat, temporarily cooled by the cold shower, throbs anew between my legs. This man’s having an explosive effect on me—something I’ve never felt before. Ever.
Oh, gosh. He’s moving in, but he checks himself when he’s so close I can taste the breath mints and sense his man scent under the sporty body wash and soap. I’ll never forgive myself if I let this moment slip.
It’s only a kiss. The flutter in my stomach and the skipping of my heart clamor for me to make a move. Hot electricity flashes through my veins and I’m onto him, my lips touching his. The first contact, sweet, testing.
I’m not sure where it is on the Richter scale of attraction, but Jay’s making me light-headed, floating and jiggly. I hope like hell he wants me too. Please, please, don’t move back.
Jay mumbles in garbled Korean before wrapping his hand around my head and neck, caressing the roots of my hair and dragging me closer. His lips fondle and massage mine, emboldening me to suck his lower lip. Yum. Oh, yum. Yes. Tasty and slippery.
He nibbles me softly and sweeps his agile tongue into my mouth as I slant my head for better access. My greedy hands grapple with his head, stroking through his hair. A soft moan tears from my throat and I want to press my body against him and rock in his lap, but I’m not that type of girl. I can’t.
Sure you can, G slaps the deck of cards on my behind. Unless you want to keep playing solitaire. Besides, he’s turning you on. You’ll never know unless you try.
Jay’s hands stay rooted to my head, not wandering below my neck, as if he’s pretending I’m fully clothed. His eyes are closed and he’s smiling when he breaks the kiss.
Shifting his weight, he extracts the damp towel and tenderly wraps it around me. He mutters again in Korean before saying, “You better put your clothes on before your brother returns or I’m a dead man.”
Brother? As in Preston? All sense of arousal freezes to a halt. Mortified, I jump from his lap and open the dresser, holding my towel with one hand.
“See you around, Tigress.” Jay retreats to the door and steps out, the door shutting with a decidedly final thump.
My face is hot, burning with embarrassment and shame. What must he think of me? I wouldn’t be surprised if he never returns. Maybe he pulled back because of guilt, a girlfriend he forgot to call, or a wife. Not all guys wear rings, especially players.
I had just pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank top when there’s a knock on the door.
“You decent?” Preston calls.
“Yeah, but you better erase those pictures you took.”
I hear the door unlatch and he steps in.
“Or what?” He smirks, his arms crossed.
“I’ll break up with you on Facebook. Then what will your family say?”
He tosses the phone at me. “All deleted.”
What else can I do but threaten? He could have uploaded it to the cloud by now. At least I was wrapped in an oversized towel, but who knows what the shot with Jay in it looked like? I mean, camera angle can be so deceiving.
“If those pictures ever come to the light of day I’ll sue you.”
He hooks his arm around my shoulder and kisses my cheek. “You wouldn’t sue your husband, would you?”
“You’re joking, right?”
He swipes his smart phone and browses to Facebook and points at his new status, “Engaged to Jessica Song.”
“Puh-lease, it’s a Facebook fake.” My stomach rumbles and I ask, “Is Jay still out there or did he go to lunch without us?”
“Sorry, he left after I told him in no uncertain terms that he’s not allowed to date my sister.” Preston snags his phone.
I punch his arm. “I’m not your sister.”
“Lucky for me, he thinks you are. I also told him you’re seventeen, a virgin, and betrothed to a Japanese prince.”
“All untrue.”
Preston’s eyebrows arch. “Really? Not a virgin? Well, well, well. I’m not sure if I
shouldn’t adjust the bride price now.”
“You ass!” I shove him out the door, slam it and kick it for good measure.
Despite having the horizontal driver’s license showing my over twenty-one status, I won’t be getting horizontal any time soon with that vicious rumor going around the training camp.
Chapter 3
~Jay~
Jay ate lunch by himself and checked into the locker room early. He took another cold shower and dressed in his light practice jersey. Even though it was the end of February, temperatures hovered near eighty degrees in Arizona. Too hot, especially when the smooth curves of a girl too young for him haunted him.
After leaving Tigress’s room, he had been accosted by her brother and told in no uncertain terms to leave her alone. How could he have known she wasn’t legal age? Taking advantage of a beautiful, nubile girl was not the way to start his career as a major league baseball player. If word got to the team manager or owner, he could be fired, or hauled off to jail, deported for sure.
But to be fair, Tigress’s brother had done a shitty job of protecting her. Leaving the room when his baby sister could be compromised, especially in her naked and vulnerable state was sheer negligence. Jay would never allow a strange man to enter his sister’s hotel room, and if he’d discovered them in a compromising position, he damn sure would have beaten the heck out of the stranger, not given him a mild talking to.
Thinking of Tigress’s sweet, delectable body made Jay hard again. For a mere child, she’d certainly acted like an experienced woman, not even ashamed or modest about her nakedness. And to think she had a Korean father too. Why would he allow her to work at a hotel hosting baseball players?
Jay hoped no one in the Song family knew his parents. This was the last time he’d flirt with a woman without knowing her family background. But then, he’d thought he knew all about Su-Bin, his ex-fiancée.
She was a good girl, or so advertised by their parents’ social connections, daughter of a respectable businessman and graduate of South Korea’s ultimate “wife-training” school. She’d followed every rule, refusing to let him hold her hand until the third date.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 106