by Lori Foster
Her voice rose with the effort to make sense of it all. “The publicist is defending Mr. Black, trying to make him look better than he is. She and the SBC organization are hoping to hide his faults and cover up his brutalities. But Brett, you can’t just put a pretty face on the ugly truth.”
“What ugly truth are we talking about?”
Oh, God, the way he asked that . . . She did not want their growing relationship to come to a staggering halt, but how could she live with herself if she did nothing, and someone else suffered because of it?
Appearing almost saddened by her attitude, Brett reached for her hand. “Come on, Audrey. Tell me what you have against the SBC, and then we can talk about what really matters.”
How did he do that, cut straight to the core of her feelings? He wanted the truth, and . . .
Why not? Talking about it was so painful, but it’d be the easiest way to make him understand why she couldn’t just switch alliances. She needed resolution.
Audrey looked at his big hand holding hers with care. Brett was different; she was convinced of that. But one good example didn’t change the norm.
She met his gaze—and bared her soul. “Because of the SBC, my nineteen-year-old brother was killed. And believe me, Brett, that’s more than enough to make anyone realize what a horrible, bloodthirsty sport it is.”
DREW watched Gillian part the curtains with care. For hours now, throughout the night and into the early morning, she’d been pacing with anxiety. Every time she peeked outside, he knew it was with the hope that the nosy reporters had left so that she could escape the invasion of her privacy, the scandal . . . and him.
One by one throughout the long night, the fighters had split, and a few of the reporters had followed them. Only a few die-hard scandal-seekers had remained, but given the relief in Gillian’s shoulders, even those must have closed up their tents finally.
“They’re gone.” Face set in lines of determination, she started to hurry past him, but Drew caught her.
“Where are you going?”
For a heartbeat, she looked so lost, his guts knotted. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “Home, I guess. I need to get hold of Fran, I need to do some damage control, I need—”
His phone rang, and it so startled Gillian that she yelped.
Eyeing her too-tense posture, Drew pulled out his cell phone, glanced at the number, and shrugged at the inevitability of it.
Knowing Gillian stood there in awful suspense, he put the phone to his ear and said, “Hey, Fran. What’s shaking?”
Gillian’s eyes sank shut and a cloak of defeat masked her usual confidence.
Fran asked, “Is she there, Drew?”
He watched Gillian. “Who?”
“You know damn good and well who I mean. Gillian Noode. Is she there with you even now?”
“Now, Fran, you know that’s none of your damn business.” Gillian’s eyes flashed open and she stared at him aghast. Shaking her head hard, she tried to discourage him. But what the hell? The damage was done, so why should he go down with a smile?
“My God, she is. I knew when I called and she didn’t answer . . .”
“It is damn early still.”
“Yet you answered.”
Drew shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’ve never kept regular hours. That’s one reason you’ve been riding my ass, right? To make me conform?”
“Enough.” Fran sucked in air to moderate her temper, and then she gritted out, “Put. The phone. On loudspeaker.”
Drew rubbed his head. “Fine.” Covering the mouthpiece, he said to Gillian, “She knows you’re here and she wants to talk to both of us.” Before Gillian could assimilate that, he uncovered the phone, hit a button, and said, “Go ahead, Fran. Let the vitriol fly, old girl.”
Looking like a deer caught in the headlights, Gillian gasped, “Shut up, Drew.” Then, remembering that Fran could hear her, she looked ready to sink into the floor.
“Hello, Gillian.” Tone clipped and disapproving, Fran said, “I figured I’d find you there, all things considered.”
Gillian gave Drew a black scowl and cleared her throat. “Fran, good morning. I was going to call you to set up a meeting as soon as I got home.”
“Which would have been when?”
“At a more respectable hour, of course.”
Oh-ho! Score one for Gillian for that backhanded censure against Fran’s crack-of-dawn phone call. Grinning, Drew feigned a knockout punch as a sign of approval, and said, “Yeah, and speaking of respectable, why don’t we set up a meeting for later today, and we can all—”
“Obviously, Gillian,” Fran cut in, her voice raised, “this is not how I planned for you to transform Drew’s image.”
Gillian’s backbone came back in spades. “This has nothing to do with Drew’s image. It’s personal and I don’t care to discuss it.”
“Well, my dear, you should have told that to the reporters who’ve been calling me through the night, asking for a statement.”
Gillian stiffened. “In fact, I did tell them.” She struggled for composure. “And as to our business agreement, I have been following a detailed and intelligent plan that I think you’ll find is adequately building a more unbiased perception—”
“You’re fired.”
Gillian’s mouth snapped shut.
Drew blew a fuse. “She fucking well did what you wanted her to!”
With ringing sarcasm, Fran quipped, “Oh, certainly, Drew. The transformation is astounding. I hardly recognize you.”
Gillian rubbed her forehead. “Drew, enough already. It doesn’t matter.”
“Bullshit.”
Clearly mortified, Gillian straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. “I can see that there’s nothing more to discuss, then. Fran, I’ll be sending you a list of my arrangements for future speaking engagements I’d lined up for Drew. I believe if you follow through, you can still—”
Drew snorted. “No way. Because I quit.”
Stunned silence ensued.
Gillian blinked at him in confusion, and she blinked again when he winked at her.
He could hear Fran breathing. Finally, her voice shrill, she said, “You’re bluffing.”
“Nope.”
“I know you, Drew Black. You would be miserable if you retired.”
“Who said anything about retiring?” He gave Gillian a once-over, and she looked so adorable in her uncertainty that he couldn’t wait to finish the call. “Your snit changes nothing for me. I’ll be doing business as usual.”
Gillian didn’t understand—but Fran sure as hell did.
“Oh. My. God.” And then with ripe fury: “You’re going to another organization?”
Satisfied with her reaction, Drew propped a shoulder against the wall and smiled. “Now, Fran, we both know I won’t have to. They’ll be coming to me just as soon as Gillian and I do a press conference explaining that I’m free.”
“You bastard!”
After all of Fran’s plans to make him over, her attitude that she’d found him lacking . . . well, it felt damn good to have the upper hand again.
And he owed Gillian for that.
“Face it, Fran. You hired Gillian because she was the best. You told me so yourself. And with her representing my interests now, I’m going to come out of this smelling like a rose.”
“Gillian agreed to this?”
“You fired her. What do you think?”
As he spoke, Drew took in Gillian’s shock. The color had drained from her face, and her entire posture slumped. He saw it in her eyes—how she would try to defend him—so before she could start bowing and scraping on his behalf, Drew took the phone off loudspeaker and put it back to his ear.
“Have a good life, Frannie.” He heard Fran start to speak, but he shut the phone on her and slipped it back into his pocket.
Had Gillian really thought he’d let her just walk away? That he’d let her be fired while he stood by and did nothing? Like hell.
Right now, she looked wrecked, not at all her usual poised, classy self. But he’d take care of that.
Drew didn’t reach for her. Not yet. He didn’t know what she was thinking, if she blamed their affair for the sudden downturn in every direction. All he knew for a certainty was that they weren’t done. Not by a long shot. “You okay, honey?”
She shook her head. “You . . . you just quit.”
Even now, during the proverbial shit-storm, teasing her appealed to him, so he said, “Damn, but you’re sharp. Nothing gets by you.”
Numbness waned beneath ire. Her impressive chest heaved, drawing his attention. “Are you out of your mind? You love your job!”
Drew shrugged. “Yeah, well, Fran was going to fire me anyway. Not permanently, you know, but long enough to manipulate me or punish me—one of those gamey moves women like to use to make men squirm.” He pushed away from the wall. “But you know I’m not a fan of squirming.”
As if his mood finally penetrated her fog, Gillian took a step back. “Drew . . .”
“Out of bed, that is. In bed . . . honey, you can make me squirm all you want. I’ll look forward to it.”
Her jaw loosened. “For crying out loud, Drew. I can’t believe you’re talking about sex right now!”
“I’m horny,” he said by way of explanation. “How about you?”
She stopped retreating and took a stance. “Drew, this is serious. When the firm finds out about this, they’ll fire me, too. My entire life is crumbling. No one is going to want to work with me after this.”
Drew couldn’t help but snuggle her in close. “Don’t be so dramatic. Everything is fine, I swear.”
She groaned. “You’re an idiot.” There was no real venom in her insult, just numb disbelief.
“Yeah, I know,” he murmured, being as conciliatory as he thought she needed him to be. “But, sweetheart, I am not a man without resources. Do you think the SBC is the only gig in town?”
She pressed back to stare at him. “I heard what you told Fran, but that was just a bluff, right?”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t bluff about something that important.”
“But . . .” She slapped away his wandering hands as he tried to cuddle her backside. “You’ve told me over and over again that the SBC is the only gig in town, that it is the MMA organization, that no other organization can come close to comparing—”
“Yeah, because I was in charge.” Without her realizing it, he started easing her toward his bedroom. He hadn’t lied about being horny. Seeing her so vulnerable brought out his inner King Kong. And beyond that, she needed to relax a little so she could get things in perspective.
And once she did, she’d realize that she wasn’t done with him, either.
Whatever it took, he would make this right for her—after he gave them both some sexual oblivion. “Trust me, honey, I can build greatness again. I’m not worried about that.”
He’d just gotten her to the bed when she recharged, coming around with a vengeance. With her thoughts visibly scrambling, she said, “You’re really not worried?”
“Nope.” He cuddled a heavy breast. “And you shouldn’t be, either. Just think how much nicer it’ll be working for yourself instead of others.”
“Working for myself.” She sort of tasted that before she began grumbling again. “My God, Drew, you’re making this out to be an opportunity!”
“That’s exactly what it is.” He went to work on her shirt. “Fran knows it, too; that’s why she was so furious. And just to rub it in”—or possibly get himself repositioned in the company—“we’ll drop in to see her and Loren this afternoon. You can come up with a plan of attack before then, right?”
The shirt coming over her head muffled her reply. Distracted in a mighty way, she pushed away his hands as he reached for her breasts. Drew redirected his efforts and finished stripping her.
She paid little enough attention as her brain worked on strategies. “I suppose I could get a viable plan together. But I’ll need the names of the other fight organizations so I can do some quick research on them.”
“Not necessary.” Drew stripped off his own clothes. “I know everything there is to know about them already, including their lack of profits, what’s causing the losses, the faults in their future plans, and what each would need to do to become a contender in the market.”
Gillian gaped at him. “You’re—”
“Outrageous?”
Eyes wide, she shook her head. “I was going to say amazing.”
“You’re only just now realizing that?” Grinning, he tumbled her onto the bed. “Luckily, Fran and Loren already know it, as do the fans. Trust me, no one in the SBC wants me working against them.”
She put a hand to his jaw. “Most men would be flattened by all of this, you realize.”
“All of what?” Right now, he was flattened by how badly he wanted her. Every damn time, he wanted her like he’d been celibate for years.
“Bomb threats and lunatic bloggers, snooping photographers and sudden termination. But nothing fazes you, does it?”
He was fazed all right. But he was a man who liked to work through problems, not wallow in them. “You must not know me very well if you think I’d go to pieces over this stupid stuff.”
Suddenly her eyes flared wide and she straight-armed him, pushing him back enough that she could see his face. “That’s it!”
“What?” He caught her wrists and moved her arms up over her head so he could regain the physical closeness. He liked the feel of her breasts against his chest, her soft belly against his abdomen . . .
Struggling, Gillian said, “No one knows you, Drew. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter what you say or how you say it. It never has. It’s about what you do.”
“Well . . . yeah.” He wished she’d stop talking and fighting against him. He wanted to be inside her. Bad. “Words are just words. I’ve always said that.”
She managed to get her hands free and tried to scramble out from under him. “I need you to tell me everything good about you.”
He caught her by the hips as she was half turned and plopped her onto her back again. “I’m a stallion in the sack.”
“Drew, I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He pinned her down and spread her legs with his own, settling between them so she’d have no misunderstanding of his intent. “Give me two hours, and you’ll know just how serious I am.”
CHAPTER 14
HUFFING her exasperation, Gillian dodged the kiss Drew tried to give her. Right now, he was making clear thought very difficult. “I can’t believe you want to do this now. We have plans to make.”
“We’ll plan after you’re not so tense.”
She appreciated his ardor, she really did. But until she resolved a few issues, she’d damn well stay on edge. “I just lost a job, Drew. And I got humiliated in the bargain and became part of a scandal. I’m allowed to be tense.”
He kissed her throat in a spot that never failed to send shivers over her body. “Nonsense. I have the perfect cure for that. Relax and let me show you.”
Oh, for crying out loud. His kisses trailed down to her collarbone—and then lower still. She could actually feel her nipples starting to throb.
One more time, she tried to resist him. “Can’t you turn it off for just a little while?”
He licked her nipple, and when she gasped, he murmured, “Not with you around, no.”
He sucked her nipple into his hot mouth, and it felt so good, so stirring, that her fingertips dug into his shoulders—and Gillian wasn’t sure if she wanted to push him away or hold him tighter to her.
He teased both nipples until she wrapped her legs around him and lifted her hips, trying to encourage him to haste.
To her frustration, he didn’t take the hint. Instead, he moved back up her body and, after a soft kiss to her mouth, he held her unresisting arms over her head. “Are you listening to me, Gillian?”
That particular tone was unfamiliar to he
r, at least in bed. It was rough and deep and . . . forceful.
The thrill of the unknown sizzled through her. She drew in a tight breath. “Yes.”
“In order to get the full effect of this, I want you to stay put, without moving. Got that?”
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Why?”
Staring into her eyes, he said, “I want you in a supplicant position.”
Her independent nature rebelled, and she started to move away. But she didn’t get far.
“Ah-ah, Gillian. I want you to trust me.” He stretched her out again, and with one hand clasping her wrists, held her that way. “This is for your own good.”
Desire battled with uncertainty. “What are you going to do?”
“I think it’ll be better if you wait to find out.”
She wasn’t a wilting flower, but then, neither was she a sexual dynamo. She’d never in her life done anything too risqué, and her experience with powerful men like Drew was nonexistent.
His smile showed cool constraint. “Gillian, you know you’re going to like this, so stop resisting.”
Oh, God. She swallowed and nodded.
Satisfied, Drew sat up beside her. He took the time to smooth back her hair, fanning it out on the pillow. He trailed his fingertips down her arms and around to her breasts.
“I love your rack.”
Gillian choked. “Gee . . . thanks. That’s exactly what a woman wants to h—” Before she could finish, he closed his fingertips around both nipples.
He watched her face as he gently rolled, tugged.
Her fingers twisted together to keep her arms in place, and her legs shifted with the growing sensations. Licking a finger, Drew dampened both nipples and then blew on them.
Gillian couldn’t help but groan as her nipples tightened almost painfully.
He kept it up for so long, toying with her nipples, playing with them, licking, stroking, sucking, and pulling, that she thought she might come just from that.
But just as the release began to build within her, he retreated and looked at her body again.
Biting her lip to keep from moaning out her disappointment, Gillian watched him. When he half smiled, she did moan, unsure of what was to come. She was already so primed, even her skin tingled.