by Zoë Lane
“Rochelle’s sister mentioned it. She’s been around HQ. And you looked so scared before meeting the GM. Remember?”
“Like a mouse?”
His grin made me want to knock a couple of his perfectly straight white teeth out.
“Right, like a mouse. Lemme guess”—he leaned forward, his face too close for comfort, his voice below the range of the laughing children, but high enough for me to hear—“your company needs me to break you in.”
I couldn’t breathe. Something otherworldly took possession of me—well, that’s the story I was going with—and I picked up my spoon and generously scooped my Jell-O.
“Rose. This is an event, remember?”
Landyn’s gaze never left my spoon as I held it up.
“Do it!”
“Yeah, do it!”
I laughed at the peer pressure—encouragement—the kids offered, their utensils held fast in their fists, which pounded the table.
“You guys are supposed to be on my side!” Landyn said, playfully hitting the detractors with an accusatory look. I thought it was real cute of him to think he was off the hook.
“Why?” one kid asked, genuine curiosity in the wrinkles between his scrunched brows.
“Yes,” I piped up. “Explain why they should be on your side, and why I shouldn’t hit you in the face with this Jell-O.”
Some of the kids gasped while others laughed somewhat viciously, which only made me eager for Landyn to call my bluff.
“Because we’re supposed to be professional, remember?”
Darn. He was right. My gaze went to the ceiling before landing back on Landyn. I gave him a vicious smile—completely out of character. I wasn’t vicious at all. “I think you need someone to teach you a lesson.”
“Rose! Think about what you’re doing.” His anxious look returned to the spoon. “There are other…ways to punish me that I’d be more than happy to—”
Nope.
With a finger on the edge of the spoon, I tipped it back and flung the Jell-O, hitting Landyn square in the chest.
I tried to be professional.
Really, I did.
“Food fight!”
The kids yelled and laughed, and the food began to fly. I giggled at Landyn’s shocked expression, until his hand went to the plate holding a generous slice of apple pie. Laughter died in my throat. “Landyn, you wouldn’t dare. You’re wearing a t-shirt, and I’m wearing a—”
Dress. The word never made it out of my mouth, suffocated by a yelp. Warm, sticky filling, with a generous helping of crumb, hit the side of my face and slid down, hitting my chest and rolling over my right breast before landing solidly in my lap.
“Never thought I’d enjoy watching a pie go to waste. You’ve got a trail of it going down…” He leaned over, his finger pointed at my boob. I slapped it down quickly. “I know exactly where the trail goes.”
His head went back and his eyes shut as laughter bellowed from his wide-open mouth.
“Landyn!” I sank my hand into the potato salad on my plate and flung it at him, mostly hitting his arm as he deflected the chunky yellow pieces. I cried out as something hit me on the left side of my head. A meat patty landed right above my left breast. I groaned. Ketchup seeped into the fabric. I’ll never get these stains out! This is all my fault.
No. No, it was Landyn’s.
Landyn, who was holding his stomach while laughing his head off.
The milk was already spilled.
I grabbed the Jell-O cup belonging to the kid beside me and used my fingers to scoop out the Jell-O and threw it right in his face. I laughed triumphantly, but only for a couple of seconds as a loud, shrieking whistle made everyone freeze.
*****
“Ms. Foster, this is all my fault. Please, please accept my apology,” I said with hands clasped together in front of my chest. How in the hell was I supposed to explain this to Helena? I hoped the photographer was too busy ducking food to get any shots.
The middle-aged woman didn’t even look at my hands. Instead, she yanked a piece of potato from her short dark hair, now half-yellow from the potato salad. “The kids are a mess! How are we supposed to explain this to their parents? Some of them were in the cafeteria, and they were hit in the crossfire.”
One memorable scene in particular was when a hot dog had landed bull’s eye in a parent’s open mouth. While I swallowed a laugh and battled the fight my lips were making to break into a grin, Landyn spoke.
“It was my fault, Ms. Foster. I…I started the fight. I’d be more than happy to pay for any damages. I’ll even fund the rest of the program,” he eagerly offered.
I blinked. He would?
“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Gallagher. I’ll have one of the administrators send you a bill through your office, Ms. Mackleby.”
I nodded silently. I’d have to intercept that bill before my bosses discovered it. No way I could explain an unplanned, unsanctioned food fight. And one that I had started? “Of course, Ms. Foster, thank you.”
“I think the kids had a good time,” Landyn stated. “That’s really what matters, isn’t it? I mean, they learned how to throw, and they’re supposed to have food fights during summer camp. It’s technically not a summer camp without one.”
I cleared my throat and grabbed Landyn by the arm. “What he means to say is he’s very grateful for the invitation to be here, and we’ll show ourselves out.”
“Please do,” Ms. Foster said sternly, nostrils flared and eyes unblinking. Seeing a piece of pie stuck to her chin diminished the severity of her demand.
I dragged Landyn to the door, all the while refusing to think about how I couldn’t get my hand around half his bicep, nor how it flexed and hardened against my palm. What concerned me more was the press that would come out about this event. There were a few photographers, in addition to the one from my office, and I’d have to hurry up and release a favorable story, one that would spin the food fight into a playful, not-out-of-hand event the kids had eagerly participated in. Perhaps using Landyn as their target.
“Rose, relax.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I have to do damage control.”
“I’d hardly consider a food fight a crisis.”
We reached his car and I faced him, pointing at my dress. “If not, then this, Landyn. My dress is ruined.”
His eyes narrowed. “I said I’d pay for it.”
“It’s not just that,” I sighed heavily. “This was our first event, and I promised my bosses I could handle this assignment.”
He stalked forward and my internal alarm buzzed. I took a step back and grunted when the car door handle connected with my lower back. “So that’s what I am to you, huh? An assignment?”
I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t feign offense. We both know you could care less about what I think.”
“Take it off.”
The low, dangerous voice sent shivers up my arms and warmth down my spine. When had he gotten so close that I could smell sweet apple pie on his breath and feel it hot on my lips?
“What?” I heard myself croak, and self-hatred set in. Why couldn’t I be confident like the girls I’d seen in pictures with Landyn? Backs arched perfectly so their chests would be on full display, lips always pursed in kiss-ready mode, and the model-like poses they’d have as though they were in mid-catwalk strut.
No, I stood before him—well, half-slumped against his expensive car—covered in potato salad, pie, and hamburger, and…what was that sound? Am I panting?
“Your dress, Rose,” Landyn answered in a tiresome voice. “Or…” His eyes sparked with mischief. “Would you like me? No, don’t answer. I shouldn’t have asked. I’ll be happy to remove it.”
No, he won’t. “Ah!” His fingers traced fiery paths up my thighs, stopping just beneath the curve of my bottom. I grabbed two large hands that held fast to my dress. “What are you doing?” I hissed, losing the battle of tugging my hemline down.
“Undressing you,
” he said silkily. “I’ll have this professionally cleaned. If the stains don’t come out, I’ll buy you a new one.”
“That’s. Not. Necessary.” I gritted each word and continued to fight.
“Rose, I can afford it.”
“It’s not that.” This was impossible. I could not get his fingers to budge. What exercise did he do to get these things so freakin’ strong?
“What, then?” He chuckled. “Why are you fighting me? Do you actually think you’ll win?”
No, but I’d never admit it. At least not to his face. Resolve strengthened, and I tugged harder, which only made him laugh even louder.
“Rose, one way or another, this dress is coming off.”
Although he made that declaration with an amusing smile, something deep inside me cried out that it went much deeper than doing a good deed and cleaning my clothes. He was going to undress me.
I violently twisted out of his grasp. My purse—slung over one shoulder—had flung around and slapped me hard in the butt, right where his fingers had been, singeing his touch into my skin like a branding. I practically fell over his side mirror, and probably looked absolutely ridiculous, but relished the look of shock that registered on his handsome and so-chiseled-David-would-be-jealous face. I’d won. I had freakin’ won!
I cleared my throat, lifted my chin, and smoothed my slimy and partly crusty dress down firmly over my thighs.
My display only served to grow Landyn’s smirk. His gaze trailed up and stopped at my eyes. “I had decided against it when we first met—and I rarely change my mind—but I have a feeling this is going to be well worth the trouble.”
“Excuse me?” I pretended I didn’t know he was talking about what somewhere deep inside me hoped he was: pursuing me. Battling me until he won.
And I imagined the reward would be less about humiliating me and more about titillating parts of me. I spotted my jacket on the ground from when I’d wrenched myself free from just his fingers and snatched it up. “I’ll put this on the seat so I don’t ruin your expensive leather.”
Landyn’s eyes went up into his head. “I could care less about that, but I appreciate the consideration. I’ll drive.”
He started to go around the car to open my door, but I put up two hands and backed away. I’d take as much space as I could get before being confined in that car of his for the drive back to the stadium.
“What are you so scared of, Rose?” Landyn asked when we settled back into the car.
“Uh, nothing.”
Failure.
Getting fired.
Your breath when it tickles my ear.
How my thighs nearly melted when you touched them.
I fished my phone out from my purse and shot the photographer a text to get me the photos ASAP so I could get teasers on social media before the first bad headline. I could feel his smile on the side of my face, and although we made it back without speaking more than probably a dozen words to each other, I had a feeling Landyn wasn’t the impatient sort. He’d probably never had to wait for a girl in his life; he’d treat her like a championship game that required a calculated and specific strategy, precision, instinct, and patience.
He was out of the car and opening my door before I had a chance to touch the handle. I mumbled a thank-you and then clotheslined myself on the arm he held up to block my path.
Landyn laughed. “Rose…”
Again, I was trapped against his car. I rubbed at my chest, where I had connected with his arm. How was it possible that my skin burned from underneath my dress? “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go home, get this off—”
Oh great. I hadn’t thought that through.
Landyn’s leg’s flanked mine. “My offer still stands, Rose,” he said in a throaty whisper.
“Uh…” His hips gently bucked against me, and I squeaked, launching up right into his lips.
I expected an assault of his tongue and probably an immediate bruising of my lips. Instead, he slowly and sensually worked my mouth wider, his arm snaking around my waist, drawing me in while his tongue entered in a smooth stroke, weaving around my own.
Holy…
Shit.
My legs…weak. My stomach…humming with need. My lungs…burning for lack of air. My hands…no, no, no, they were not splayed across his lower abdomen, inching their way around his waist. He moaned softly into my mouth, and my ego soared. I’d made him do that! I’d made the QB of the Richmond Rhinos moan.
My kiss.
With the willpower of Wonder Woman, I turned my head away and felt the rapidly growing abyss from the loss of contact with those lips. Heaven help me, that was the best first kiss I’d ever had…and I’d ended it. Ended it! My insides twisted with a sickening realization that I couldn’t get that moment back.
Sometimes I utterly hated doing the right thing.
Sucking air into my petrified lungs, I choked, “Landyn, please.”
“Whatever you want,” he whispered, leaning in, his arms holding fast to me, eliminating the distance between our bodies.
“Then let me go!” He made a sound of disappointment, and that gorgeous fat lower lip of his poked out in a pout. “We need to agree to keep this relationship professional. That’s the only way we’ll succeed.”
He tilted his head to one side, a skeptical look on his face. “Is it? Sometimes a Hail Mary can win a game.”
“Yeah, but no coach would ever suggest that as a viable strategy.”
“Hmm, true. You know a thing or two about a playbook, then? I’m impressed.”
And I was still impressed with that kiss. Damn. How am I supposed to forget that? I mean, why? Why did he have…? No point in going down that line of thought. It would quickly consume me, and I’d probably never make it back to my car, let alone home, I’d be so distracted.
That’s what Landyn did well.
Distract.
A signature move on the field, with fake pumps to make the opposing team believe he was throwing one way while he threw to another target.
And off the field, distracting the public from following the team’s successful developments to hungrily devouring the stories of his antics on Instagram.
Distracting me from doing my job to, in turn, do him.
The only way I’m going to survive this… I broke into as much of a run as my heels allowed. Landyn’s laugh followed me all the way to my car.
“I don’t lose, Rose!”
And he had the record to back it up.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LANDYN
I breathed a sigh of relief the moment I stepped across the threshold of my penthouse apartment. Finally home.
“Carmencita!” My cry was muffled as I took off my sticky, slimy shirt. I grimaced at the sight of yellow and red stains, permanent memories of the food fight a couple hours before on my three-hundred-dollar white t-shirt. Ruined. Just another thing I had to replace thanks to Rose’s brilliant idea of starting a food fight.
“Carmencita! Ayúdame!” I shouted, walking through the entryway and into the living room.
Rose wouldn’t send her dress to be dry-cleaned. A woman like her would rather do everything herself and not give me any chance to hold one over her head. Except, she had thrown the first spoonful of Jell-O. Technically I had the right to demand she compensate me for the ruined shirt.
I smiled.
Little Mouse.
She had enough to worry about.
But the shirt was three hundred dollars.
She’s going to owe me one. More than that kiss.
My phone vibrated and I saw the comments coming in from a new Instagram post—one that I didn’t make. I opened the app and saw myself modeling the correct stance for one of the kids with special needs. Likes poured in. Another photo in my feed of myself launching a ball with a row of kids behind me. #NextGeneration.
Whoa.
The image was powerful. I almost didn’t recognize myself. Little Mouse was right. I did feel like I was in an ‘element�
�� while teaching. And it felt really good.
Especially followed by a food fight and a kiss.
“Carmencita! Dónde estás? We need popcorn, and I gotta get rid of this shirt!” Damn, my Spanish was getting good. Our telenovela would be on in twenty minutes, and I still had to take a shower and wash out the french fries stuck in my hair.
I marched out of the formal living room and stopped midstride. My eyes caught a pair of long, lean legs propped up on a couch in the den. Carmencita wasn’t lean, and definitely didn’t have those legs.
I raked my hands through my hair a couple of times, cringing at whatever globs I felt there. Unless Carmencita had let this groupie in, I wasn’t sure how she had gotten past security, and at the moment, I didn’t care. After the day I’d had, a leggy blonde with a tiny waist, gorgeous round hips, and breasts that would fill my hands wasn’t a bad remedy. I settled on a relaxed, yet inviting smile I used when I didn’t need my A-game, tossed the t-shirt behind me and entered the den.
“Hey, beautiful…”
I froze.
A head of dark hair and light eyes perked up and laughed. “Who did you think I was? Oh no, no, no, you thought I was one of your thots? Lemme guess. Blonde?” She dropped the remote in her hand and had to catch herself with her palms on the floor as she nearly fell off the couch.
“Hello, Lacey. I thought you weren’t coming until this weekend?” I gritted, then shook my shoulders to get the extra layer of gross off that had just hit me. I landed with a thud on the duvet near the window overlooking the James River.
Lacey laughed so hard she began coughing and couldn’t catch her breath for a full thirty seconds. I watched her heave with a shake of my head. “Hey, big brother. Did you take your shirt off for me? I’m flattered. But we aren’t exactly the Lannisters.”
“Funny. You didn’t answer my question.”
She gave me the most pathetic pout, complete with lip, droopy shoulders, and crossed arms. “You’re not happy to see me?”
“I’m always happy to see you, you know that. I just…forget it.”
“You thought you were getting laid right now. I get it.”