Score (St. Martin Family Saga)

by Watson, Gina

  SCORE

  St. Martin Family Saga

  GinaWatson

  Copyright © 2013 by Gina Watson

  Shatter

  All Rights Reserved. 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 the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  1

  Chloe Mills groaned at the piercing light invading her sleep and at the ungodly troll driving spikes into her brain. Then she gasped at the low raspy moan funneled into her ear from the body next to her. Shit! Damn Las Vegas and their pleasure slogan. What happened in Sin City might stay there, but the repercussions could easily trail the sinner for a lifetime.

  Chloe’s gaze darted around the room, taking in its tattered and faded gold wallpaper, stained beige carpet, dirty walls, and squealing air conditioner.

  Lifting the covers to peek underneath, she winced to find herself naked, that nakedness canceling out any hope she had that maybe, just maybe, she and the guy in her bed had been too drunk to have sex.

  God, she didn’t even know who he was. She hoped her friends hadn’t let her go off with a scuzzy stranger dripping some disease.

  To her right lay a beautiful naked male body with long lean muscles and bronzed skin. As she scanned his sinewy chest—a six-pack plus—she congratulated herself that at least she’d chosen an Adonis to pleasure herself with. Too bad she couldn’t remember anything about the pleasuring. Her eyes followed his lean torso down to his manhood, currently fully engorged.

  “God,” she whispered and dropped the bedding. He was impressive.

  He moaned again and she looked to her right, but his forearm shielded his eyes, and she couldn’t make out his face. Unfortunately, she could recognize one highly distinctive feature—the tattoos on his triceps. Only it couldn’t be. God help her, it better not be. For the love of all that was good and holy—and for the sake of his balls—the man sharing her bed better not be Caleb St. Martin.

  She looked again, only to have her worst fear confirmed. It was, in fact, Cal. Oh my God, she thought as she pushed at his body underneath the covers. Her efforts were futile—the man was a solid wall of stone. She snatched her hand back when contact with his warm body caused an electric current to buzz through hers.

  She’d spent a good part of her adolescence and young adult life pining after Cal. She’d purposefully wander onto his family’s land and wait for him in the climbing tree or at the tree house designated St. Martin boys only. He’d tolerated her in their early years but as they got older, he’d taken to being a bully. She’d spent hours dreaming and doodling Mrs. St. Martin in her journal. Then reality hit. She’d heard through her friends of his conquests at college. Thank God the university was large enough she never had to witness his exploits once she started going there.

  “Get up!” she cried.

  He swore low and raspy. Voice dripping with an eroticism that had her quivering, he said, “What’s your problem, woman, didn’t you get enough last night?” He grasped her hand under the sheet and held it to his erection, rubbing up and down. “I’m good for another round if you’re up for it.”

  He sizzled in her hand, and she pulled back as if she’d been burned. “Oh! You, you, bastard. I can’t believe you brought me to this seedy motel and took advantage of me.”

  His eyes were closed as he lay languidly, a smirk on his face. “You were the one sticking your tongue in my ear at the casino last night. Couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

  “I hate you, Caleb St. Martin.” Chloe swung her legs from beneath the covers and stood as her anger began to build. She continued her rant all the way to the bathroom as she stomped off in search of her clothes.

  ≈

  Watching her storm into the bathroom, Cal could definitely appreciate the curves Chloe had picked up since her tomboy days. Her ass was lush and full, just the way he liked them. He recalled the warmth of those luscious globes in his hands last night. Damn! He went painfully hard just thinking of her body.

  Cal stretched, remembering how much fun he’d always had picking on Chloe. It was quite humorous the two of them had ended up in bed together. They’d always hated one another. Growing up on the neighboring property in Whiskey Cove, their little hometown outside of Baton Rouge, Cal had always delighted in playing practical jokes on Chloe. He didn’t understand why he enjoyed teasing her so much, but it certainly gave him great pleasure. Perhaps it was the way she always took herself so seriously that made it fun. Right now she was banging things around in the bathroom and talking to herself. He always knew she was a little odd. Was she giving herself a pep talk?

  As Cal pushed himself up on his elbows and then slowly sat up, he squinted at the light pouring in from the gap in the dusty and threadbare curtain. What Chloe had said was right—this was a seedy motel and a shitty one at that. At least he could have taken her to the Bellagio. He scratched his head, trying to recall how the events of last night played out. The memories were foggy. He stood and stretched, then looked down into the wastebasket and idly counted the condoms there. Six? Not possible. Had they done it six times? Fuuuuuck!

  Cal strode to the bathroom and pushed the door open, startling Chloe and confirming that yes, she was in fact giving herself a pep talk in the mirror.

  “And you will put this night behind you and get your degree.”

  With a lazy smile, he walked to the toilet and lifted the seat. He pulled himself into position. “How are you feeling?”

  “What the hell are you doing?” she screeched. “Don’t look at me! Where are my damn clothes?”

  The shrillness of Chloe’s voice sent needles into his eye sockets. He braced himself with his free hand on the wall above the toilet. “Will you stop yelling. I gotta take a piss, and it’s a little late for modesty, isn’t it?”

  She went into a full-on diatribe. “How am I feeling? I had sex with Caleb St. Martin, the devil himself. I don’t know if we even used protection. God, I don’t want to catch your diseases.”

  Cal turned his head in her direction. “I don’t have diseases and we used protection. Six times.”

  Chloe gasped.

  “How do you feel physically?”

  Chloe’s body bowed and tensed. Cal mentally braced for the onslaught of her wrath.

  “You can save the fake compassion. It’s not like you ever cared about my welfare before.”

  What? He’d known Chloe her entire life—of course he’d looked out for her. But she was always a bit peculiar. For instance, why was she so mad about last night?

  “I don’t know why you’re acting like this. You should be thanking me. Since you were with me last night, you’re safe. If you had woken up next to someone else, who knows what would have become of you.”

  After relieving himself, Cal turned toward Chloe and watched her glorious and full raspberry-tipped breasts sway with the rage that coursed through her. His eyes narrowed, and he felt himself go hard.

  Chloe had started pacing the floor in front of the vanity. She turned toward him with a distinctly angry snarl on her face and her fists clenched at her sides.

  “You’re so fucking arrogant. I can’t believe I ever even thought I wanted this. Plus, I don’t even get to remember what happened last night.” Her frantic pacing picked up speed. “And since college you’ve been fucking every girl that smiled at you. You’re a man-whore. And God, what if I get pregnant? Cal! Are you even listening to me?” She looked down his body. When she took in his arousal, her arms crossed her chest and her lips tightened.

  Yeah, she was ticked, but she was also aroused. Her nipples harde
ned and lengthened before his eyes. Cal swallowed the lump in his throat. “Not listening. Too busy watching your tits grow hard.”

  He ducked when Chloe threw a Nevada-shaped glass ashtray at his head. It hit the wall behind him and crashed to pieces on the floor.

  Chloe was gone when Cal got out of the shower. Stubborn woman. He’d told her he had called a cab, told her they could ride to the airport together, but she’d left anyway. Finding her clothes had taken a few minutes, and she’d grown hotter with each second. The door had been shut on her shirt, and her thong panties had hung from the fan. Cal had tried to keep those as a Vegas souvenir, but Chloe had gone ballistic and he thought he’d heard her sniffle, so he’d given them back and apologized. He’d pulled her bra from behind the television and handed it to her without a word.

  Now he made sure they hadn’t left anything, and then he too headed for the airport. He met up with his buddies at the gate.

  Cory, his brother, and Alyssa were there, along with his friends Dean and Bradley. They’d come to support another of Cal’s brothers in a poker tournament. Cash was doing well for himself, and Cal and Cory had wanted him to know they were behind him. They’d also wanted to party, but only after Cash had gotten the message of family support.

  He focused on Alyssa, wondering if she knew about last night. He assumed she would since she and Chloe were friends. Her greeting of a raised eyebrow confirmed his suspicions.

  “Alyssa.” He nodded at her and then at Cory. “Where is she?”

  Alyssa tilted her head. “She doesn’t want to speak to you.”

  His gaze followed Alyssa as she stomped to the newsstand nearest their gate. Magazines in her hand, Chloe stood waiting to check out.

  Cory turned to Cal with wide eyes. “Dude, you scored with Chloe. That’s fucking awesome. I bet that was a hot piece of ass.”

  Cal roared. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

  Cory raised his hands in submission. “Sorry, just thought you’d be happy to have won the bet.”

  Shit! It hit Cal like a heavy fist to the jaw—last night his buddies, Cory included, had bet him he couldn’t get Chloe in the sack. He recalled Cory’s exact words: “Dude, Chloe hates you. You have a better chance of sneaking into the White House and getting it on with the first lady.”

  “Please tell me Alyssa doesn’t know about the bet.”

  Cory looked down at the floor.

  “Damn, Cory!”

  Cory slowly lifted his head and met Cal’s eyes. “Sorry, dude, but yeah, I kinda let it slip last night.”

  “You had sex with Alyssa?”

  Cory shrugged. “I was drunk. This morning I told her under no circumstances can she ever tell Chloe.”

  Cal shook his head slowly as he turned to the newsstand. “This is not going to end well.”

  Bradley and Dean joined them. “Hey, guess what? Bradley just got shot down by this flight attendant who was de-planing. She told him if he didn’t stop harassing her, she’d put him on the no-fly list.”

  “Dude, that’s outrageous,” Cory said with a wide smile. “So guess who got it on with Chloe last night?”

  Cal popped Cory in the back of the head.

  Rubbing at his head, Cory said, “What the fuck?”

  “I told you to keep your damn mouth shut.”

  Dean said, “Uh, we already know.”

  Going lightheaded, Cal asked, “How the fuck do you guys know?”

  Bradley looked to both Cory and Dean, then frowned at Cal. “You texted us.”

  Cal pulled his phone out of his pocket and glared at it. He quickly deleted the messages.

  Cory shrugged. “What’s the big fucking deal? You won five hundred bucks.”

  “No!”

  “What?” Dean asked.

  “No money, no bet. We don’t speak of this ever again. Is everyone clear on that?”

  The men murmured their agreement. Cal pulled his brother close and said, “And you keep Alyssa’s mouth shut.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

  “By not being the dick you usually are.”

  Cory crossed his arms, looking just as obstinate as he had been when they were young. Cory screwed a lot of women without ever looking back. It could create problems, especially in a town as small as Whiskey Cove.

  “You’ll have to play nice. Take her out a few times, let her down easy so she doesn’t retaliate.”

  Cory’s eyes narrowed. “No can do, bro. That woman’s overly dramatic in the sack. You know how I hate that.”

  “Cory, please. Can you make just one sacrifice to help me out?”

  “Shit!” Cory stomped off.

  Cory’d take care of Alyssa as well as he could. Which meant that Cal only had to deal with Chloe.

  He leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on her as she approached. She refused to look at him, even angled her body away from his when she sat.

  She was still mad. Fine. She deserved to be. He recalled her angry speech from earlier. Yeah, mad was a mild word for what she’d felt. But she’d revealed more than anger. She’d admitted that she thought of him. Just as he’d thought of her. Her words hadn’t been all that coherent when she’d been ranting, but her admission indicated she’d thought about them being intimate. Course, then she’d gone and called him a man-whore. That was harsh. He wasn’t really, promiscuous. He’d just done what every other male did at college—gotten drunk at parties and headed off with a girl.

  Just because it had been a different girl at every party didn’t mean he was a man-whore.

  He crossed his arms. She could pretend he didn’t exist for now, but that shit wasn’t going to fly when they got home. Chloe Mills wasn’t going to ignore him for long. Not after sharing her bed and her body with him.

  He shifted when he grew hard at the remembered perfection of her body. He needed to get to the bottom of her wanting.

  No, she wasn’t going to write him off. Six condoms said there was something between them, something worth exploring.

  And the next time he explored Chloe’s body, he planned to be sober. He intended to not only imprint himself on her so she wouldn’t so easily be able to turn away, he intended to brand his memory and his own body with her every response and her scent and her flavor.

  2

  Chloe had graduated with a degree in marketing. The only problem was, she couldn’t obtain a job in this market. That was how she found herself back at Louisiana State University majoring in speech pathology. She was in her last semester and currently finishing her internship at Baton Rouge General Hospital.

  She’d been working with her patient Steve LeBlanc and his wife and two daughters. The stress was taking a toll on her, though she’d never admit it. Her family and the LeBlanc family attended the same church. While watching her patients struggle was difficult, that difficulty was magnified a thousand when she knew her patient. Chloe had cried herself to sleep more than once because of Steve’s bleak prognosis.

  Steve had been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease more than two years ago. Chloe had been working with him for so long now that it was hard to remember Steve had been a healthy thirty-six-year-old with a solid real estate career and a growing family. To look at him now one would never believe there had been so much life behind those blue eyes. From his hospital bed, he observed his girls and his wife when they came to visit. And that was all he could do—watch. He couldn’t even eat as those muscles had been taken from him too. He received nourishment through a tube, and the subsequent weight loss left him unrecognizable to even his closest friends.

  Chloe witnessed a hint of a sparkle in his eyes whenever he looked at his wife, which always comforted her. She hoped Sharon could see it too. Sharon LeBlanc had been strong these last few months, watching as Steve’s condition had deteriorated to the point that now the only muscles he could control were those that innervated the eyes. He’d gone down fast, so fast it was hard for Chloe to keep up. She had to continuously adjust his communication dev
ice. At first he was able to supplement his speech with use of an alphabet board. When he could no longer use the speech muscles, Chloe had ordered a speech output computer, but Steve couldn’t even use that device anymore. God knew she tried to be encouraging, but she understood the moment he’d told her he had no fight left in him and asked her to look after his girls, all three of them. She’d told him it would be an honor and he needn’t worry. He said he knew they would be in good hands.

  Today Chloe was seated at Steve’s bedside in the hospital where she interned. The girls, Sarah and Riley, and Sharon were there. They were talking about getting frozen yogurt on the way home. Sharon worked nights now that Steve no longer had income, and Chloe watched the girls on the nights Sharon worked. Tonight she’d have the girls. Chloe had offered to help monetarily so Sharon wouldn’t have to work, but Sharon wouldn’t hear of it. The entire town knew Chloe’s family had money, knew it wouldn’t be missed, but Sharon had refused. She’d taken on Steve’s role as provider for her family, trying to make their lives as normal as she could. Chloe couldn’t fault her for that.

  ≈

  You spent four thousand dollars on video equipment boy?

  As Cal walked into the hospital where Chloe worked, he deleted his father’s text. He wondered what it would be like to have a father who believed in his work. Cal was finishing his coursework for a graduate degree in film studies, loving what he did, jazzed about the possibilities that technology brought to the art. His professors told Cal he was talented, said he had the drive and the skills, even the insight, necessary to make a name in the field, but Clifton St. Martin wouldn’t know anything about that, not having attended his son’s academic awards banquet. Not having been interested in most of Cal’s projects.

  Cal shrugged it off. His dad had his own interests and dreams, and they’d never matched Cal’s. He’d been hoping for his dad’s acceptance since he’d been a teen, but he’d been disappointed every time. He didn’t know why he expected anything different from the man.