Trapped with the Maverick Millionaire

by Joss Wood

  Mac sent her a narrow-eyed look. “Do not flirt with my friends.”

  He sounded jealous. But that was probably just her imagination running off again.

  “Why on earth not?” Rory asked, deliberately ignoring the heat building between her legs and the thump-thump of her heartbeat.

  “I wouldn’t like it,” Mac growled.

  Rory forced herself to do a massive eye roll as she edged her way to the door. “I think you are confusing me with someone who might actually give a damn.”

  “Rory?”

  When she turned, Mac did a slow perusal of her body. She felt like he’d plugged her into the electricity grid. “Seriously, no flirting.”

  “Seriously, you’re an idiot.” Rory made a big production of her sigh. “They really should invent a vaccine to prevent that.”

  * * *

  The next morning Mac, dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, walked into his kitchen and, ignoring his two friends sitting at his table, headed straight for the coffeepot. Filling a cup to the brim, he gulped a sip, shuddered, swallowed another mouthful and prayed the caffeine would hit his system in the next thirty seconds. He felt like death warmed over. His arm was on fire, his head was pounding and he wanted to climb back into bed and sleep for a week. He supposed being out last night and pretending he was fine contributed to his less than stellar mood.

  As did the drugs and the anesthetic, he realized. It always took time for drugs to work their way out of his system. He felt like a wet blanket was draped over his head. He’d work through it, as he always did.

  He jerked his head at his friends and looked around the kitchen. “Where’s Rory?”

  “She went home,” Quinn replied, taking a donut from the box on the table and biting into it.

  “But...” Mac frowned, looking toward the front door. “I thought she was here earlier. She wrapped that mat thing around my arm.”

  “She was. Now she’s gone,” Quinn replied, stretching out his long legs. “Need anything? I can make eggs.”

  Mac shook his head, smiling internally. Quinn, their resident badass, was a nurturer at heart, intent on making the world around him better and brighter for the people he loved. There weren’t many people he showed his softer side to. To the world he was an adrenaline-addicted bad boy, speed-freak player, but his family and close friends knew he would move heaven and earth for the people he loved.

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  Kade pushed back his chair and pulled back the cuff of his shirt to look at his watch. It was new, Mac realized, and damn expensive. “I’ve got to get moving, my morning is crazy.”

  “Can you give me fifteen minutes?” Mac asked, picking up his coffee. “We need to talk.”

  He didn’t want to do this. Frankly he was considering abdicating all his rights to adulthood at this point and going back to bed, but he leaned against the counter and held his cup in his good hand.

  “What’s up?” Quinn asked.

  “This situation is a classic cluster...” Mac allowed his words to trail away and rubbed the back of his neck. He needed air. This kitchen was far too small for three six-foot-plus men.

  “Let’s go outside.” Mac placed his cup on the table and grabbed a donut. Maybe a sugar rush would make him feel better. He took one bite, grimaced and tossed the donut back into the box.

  Kade and Quinn exchanged a long, worried look, which made Mac grind his back teeth. He was about to knock some heads together—okay, he couldn’t beat up a worm at the moment but the thought was there—when Kade stood up and walked over to the open doors that led to the small patio. Mac followed him out into the sunshine and Quinn lumbered to his feet to do the same.

  They looked over the houses below them, across False Creek and toward the Lions Gate Bridge and the mountains beyond. God, he loved this city and its endless, changing views. He couldn’t think of living anywhere else; this was home. He’d had offers from teams all over the continent but he’d never been willing to be traded, and Vernon had kept him, and Kade and Quinn. Unless they managed to buy the Mavericks, that would all change. Mac didn’t mind change, as long it was the change he wanted.

  “I’m really worried about the press finding out about my injury,” Mac quietly stated.

  Kade rested his forearms on the railing and cocked his head to look at Mac. “We put out a press release stating you have a minor injury and that you should be fine soon.”

  Not good enough, Mac decided. “There’s too much at stake.”

  Quinn frowned. “But only the three of us and Rory know the truth. The doctors and nurses are bound by patient confidentiality. I think we’ll be okay.”

  Mac rubbed his chin. “Until the press realizes I am spending an enormous amount of time with my ex-girlfriend’s sister.”

  It took a minute for the implications of that scenario to register with his friends. When it did, they both looked uneasy. Kade rubbed his chin. “That was the incident that started their obsession with what we do, who we date.”

  Mac felt a spurt of guilt. “Yeah. And if they find out about Rory, how will we explain why we are spending time together?” He frowned. “I will not tell them we are seeing each other, in any capacity. God, that would open up a nasty can of worms, not only for Rory but for Shay, as well.”

  “And even if you told them she was your physio, that statement would raise questions as to why we aren’t using our resident physios, why we need her to treat you,” Kade said. “Especially since your injury is supposed to be a minor one.”

  “Bingo.”

  Quinn swore. “What’s that saying about lies and tangles we weave?”

  “Shut up, Shakespeare.” Kade stood up, looking worried. So was Mac. He’d spent most of the night thinking about how they could avoid this very wide, imminent pitfall.

  Quinn leaned his hip against the railing and narrowed his eyes. “We’ve painted ourselves into a corner. We’ve downplayed your injury and said you’ll be fine in a couple of weeks. When you are not fine in a week or two, how are we going to explain that?”

  “I have a solution,” Mac said. “I don’t like it—in fact, I hate it. I need to be here, working with you on the deal to purchase the team. But it’s all I can think of...”

  “Well?” Quinn demanded, impatient.

  “I need to get out of the city.”

  Kade tapped his finger against his chin. “Yeah, but any fool can see you are more badly injured than we say you are. We got away with lying once, only because the injury was brand-new, but we can’t keep shoveling that story. Your eyes are dull, you can tell you are on hectic painkillers.”

  “I’ll stop the drugs,” Mac insisted.

  “Now who is being stupid?” Quinn demanded.

  “Last night you hadn’t taken the proper pain meds and you looked like a walking corpse,” Kade said. “The point is that people will notice and that will lead to complications. I think your instinct is right. It’s best for you to leave. We can tell Myra, the press, anyone who cares that you are taking an extended vacation.”

  Mac swore. “I have no idea where to go. There’s nowhere I want to go.”

  “The chalet in Vail?” Quinn suggested.

  “No snow, and even if there was, I couldn’t ski. Torture.”

  “An African safari?”

  “Done that.” God, didn’t he sound like a spoiled brat?

  “What about the Cap de Mar property?” Kade persisted.

  He’d already considered Puerto Rico and he’d immediately dismissed that idea. Too hot, too isolated, too sexy...

  “Are you nuts?” Mac rolled his eyes.

  “No,” Kade replied, his voice calm as he ticked off points on his fingers. “Not big on ice hockey so you’ll be able to fly under the radar. Two, there’s sun, sea and beaches...where’s
the problem? Three, you love it there. Four, Rory will go with you and she’ll do her treatment there.”

  A vision of Rory dressed in nothing more than four triangles flipped onto the big screen of his brain and he shuddered with lust. This wasn’t a good idea. The property was empty, the cove would be deserted, he and Rory would be alone and living together. Whenever he thought of Cap de Mar he thought about sunny days and sensual nights, warm, clear seas and sex...

  “You have to go, Mac,” Kade said, deeply serious.

  Mac knew it was a reasonable option. Hell, he’d brought up the idea of leaving. But he couldn’t help feeling like he had as a kid. Powerless over his situation.

  “My life sucks,” Mac grumbled.

  “Yeah, poor baby. You’re heading for a luxury house on a Caribbean island with a hot chick.” Quinn mocked him by rubbing his eyes like a toddler. “Boo hoo.”

  Mac still had the use of his good arm. A well-placed punch to Quinn’s throat would relieve a lot of his frustration.

  Kade ignored Quinn. “I like the idea of you heading to the beach house for all the reasons I mentioned and one more.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Nobody will know where you are so you’ll be free of the media.”

  “Always a bonus,” Mac agreed.

  “And if something happens between you and Rory then they won’t pick up on that either,” Kade added.

  Mac held Kade’s mocking glare. Okay, yeah, of course that was a factor. He would try to resist her but his willpower where she was concerned wasn’t a sure thing.

  “It’s not going to happen,” he said, but he wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince his friends or himself.

  Quinn laughed. “You’re going to take one look at Rory in her bikini and be all ‘let me show you the view from my room.’”

  A punch to the throat would definitely shut Quinn up and would make Mac feel so much better, he mused.

  Five

  “Sorry, I’m late.” Rory picked up her e-reader from her coffee table and shoved it into her tote bag.

  “We’ve got time.” Mac, standing by the window, looked at his watch. “Not a lot but some. And if the jet misses its time slot, we’ll just request another.”

  Private jets and time slots. Rory tried not to look impressed. But she was. She was traveling to the Caribbean in style. Rory tried to think calmly. She’d done most of her packing last night but she’d thought she’d have time to finish up this morning. Thanks to Troy’s mom going walkabout from her nursing home, that hadn’t happened. She and Troy had spent three hours looking for her and had eventually tracked her down in a garden center sitting on a bench between two cherry trees. Rory was glad Troy’s mom was okay but her temporary disappearance had put a serious dent in Rory’s schedule.

  “Passport and credit card,” Mac told her. “You can buy anything else you need there.”

  So spoke the man with far too much disposable income, Rory thought. She held up her hand in a silent gesture for him to be quiet. She needed to think, and him standing in her little apartment, looking so hot, wasn’t helping. All she could think about was that she was leaving the country with a sexy man who just had to breathe to turn her on.

  Her eyes dropped to his arm, which rested in a black sling. He was injured, she reminded herself.

  You could go on top...

  Rory slapped her hand across her forehead.

  “Tell me about Puerto Rico,” Rory said, hoping the subject would distract her from thinking about straddling Mac, positioning herself so that...argh!

  “It’s an island in the Caribbean,” Mac replied.

  “Don’t be a smart-ass. Tell me about the house where we’re staying.”

  Mac leaned his shoulder into the wall and crossed his legs at the ankles. It was so wrong that he looked at home in her apartment, like he had a right to be there. “The house is situated about thirty-five minutes from San Juan, on a secluded cove near only two other houses. It’s three stories, mostly open-plan and it has glass folding doors that open up so you feel like you are part of the beach and sea.

  “The owners of the other two properties are off-island at the moment so we’ll be the only people using the cove.” Mac added.

  Rory swallowed at the low, sexy note in his voice. She’d be alone with Mac, on a Caribbean island, with warm, clear water and white beaches and palm trees. Utterly and absolutely alone. She wasn’t sure whether the appropriate response was to be thrilled or terrified.

  Or both.

  Sex and business don’t mix! He’s your patient!

  Sun, sea, sexy island...sexy man.

  Get a grip, Kydd. Not liking the cocky look in his eyes, the glint that suggested he knew exactly what she was thinking, she lifted her nose. “Well, at least we won’t disturb the neighbors with your screams of pain when we start physio.”

  “Or your screams of pleasure when I make you fall apart in my arms,” Mac replied without a second’s hesitation.

  Rory’s heart thumped in her chest but she kept her eyes locked on his, refusing to admit he rattled her. Instead of making her furious, as it should, his comments made her entire body hum in anticipation. Her body was very on board with that idea.

  Rory folded her arms and rocked on her heels. “I hate it when you say things like that.”

  “No, you don’t. You want to hate it because it turns you on.” Mac looked up at the ceiling. When he looked back at her, his expression was rueful. “Ignore me, ignore that.”

  She couldn’t do as he asked. They needed to address the pole dancing, come-and-get-me-baby elephant gyrating in the room. “Mac, I don’t know what you think is going to happen in Puerto Rico, but us sleeping together can’t happen, won’t happen.”

  “I know why I think it shouldn’t happen. I have a few solid reasons for thinking it would be a hell of a mistake, but I’m interested in hearing yours.”

  Rory bit the inside of her lip. God, she couldn’t tell him she thought he was just like her dad, unfaithful. That the fact he’d dated her sister bugged her. Or her personal favorite: that he drove her crazy.

  Rory thought fast and latched onto the first reasonable excuse that popped into her head. “I’m on sticky ground here. I shouldn’t treat you and sleep with you—that would be crossing some pretty big lines. I have to maintain professional boundaries with clients. I can’t misuse or abuse my position of authority—”

  “You have no position of authority over me,” Mac scoffed.

  “The point remains—” Rory gritted her teeth “—that if I engage in any nonprofessional behavior I can be pulled up before the board.”

  Mac stared at her, his face inscrutable. “Okay, for the sake of argument, may I point out that you’ll be in a foreign country and nobody but us will know? And you’re on holiday.”

  “I’d know,” Rory said, her voice resolute. “You might be a rule breaker, Mac, but that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

  “You’re lying, Rory. Besides, last I checked, physiotherapists are allowed private lives.” Mac shook his head. “Not buying it.”

  So much for using that as an excuse to keep some distance between them. Rory hated the fact that he could look past her cool, professional shell and see below the surface. And he was right. Nobody would believe she’d bullied Mac into having a relationship he didn’t want to have. Yeah, sleeping with Mac wouldn’t be professional but it wasn’t a death sentence either.

  She’d forgotten how damn complicated men could be.

  “So what is your reason why we shouldn’t scratch this particular itch?”

  “God, I wish there was just one.” Mac dropped a curse and rubbed the back of his neck. “But I can’t remember any of them because I am too damn busy thinking about how you taste, how good you feel in my arms. I want to feel t
hat, feel you, again. It’s not smart, or sensible, but...to hell with being sensible and smart!”

  “Mac—”

  “Come here, Rorks.”

  She could say no, should say no, but she found herself walking toward him. Stopping when she was a foot from him, she tipped her head up to look at his face. His jaw held that sexy stubble, and the corners of his mouth suggested he was amused, but his eyes told her everything she needed to know. He was as turned on as she was.

  Crazy chemistry.

  Mac lifted his good hand, gripped the edge of her collar and pulled her toward him. Rising on her tiptoes, she kept her eyes locked on his, deciding whether she should kiss him or not. “I just want one kiss, Rory,” Mac murmured, doing his mind reading thing again. “Stop thinking for a second and be.”

  He had a way of cutting to the heart of the problem. He was right; she was making far too big a deal of this. It didn’t have to mean anything! Kissing him just made her feel good. Like chocolate or a foot rub.

  “That’s it, babe, stop thinking and kiss me.”

  Rory moved her head so her lips moved across his ear, under his short sideburns, through his surprisingly soft stubble, slowly, so slowly, making her way to his mouth. Mac’s hand clenched her waist and she heard the low growl in the back of her throat as her tongue darted out to taste the skin on his jaw, to explore the space where his top and bottom lip met. She felt his erection against her hip and knew she had maybe five seconds before he exploded and all hell—possibly heaven—broke loose.

  Rory moved her lips over his, her teeth gently scraping his upper lip, her hand grasping the back of his neck. She kept her tongue away, wondering how long he would wait before he took control of the kiss. Five seconds passed and then another ten. Rory sucked on his bottom lip.

  He muttered something against her lips, something harsh and hot and sexy, and his big hand gripped her butt and lifted her up and into him. The time for playing, for teasing, was over. She’d never experienced a kiss so...sexual, Rory realized. This wasn’t a prelude to sex. This was just another version of the act. His tongue pushed inside and retreated, swirled and sucked, and Rory felt her panties dampen as she unconsciously ground herself against his erection, frustrated by the layers of fabric between them.