by Nina Crespo
It had taken less than fifteen minutes for her to receive approval to stay and to receive approval for a project bonus. A favor for Ted was one thing, but she wasn’t crazy enough to bust her butt for less than what Myra was paid to screw things up. What she’d negotiated through Ted was more than enough to put a smile on her face, but the whole situation still felt so surreal. Just last night, she’d been talking to Ethan, and he’d said she’d get another chance.
She cut the thought off in mid-stride. That was weird. Why would she think about him now? She snorted a laugh. Tab. What a mouthy pain in the ass. Her mind had been free and clear until she’d started harping on it…well, almost clear, but Tab was wrong. Even if she and Ethan had traded phone numbers, what would they have called each other to talk about?
Sure, he’d looked totally sincere holding her hand and telling her she’d get another chance at her job, but phone calls would only lead to wanting more of what they’d shared last night, fantastic sex, and that equaled…drumroll please…the one mistake that had put her in the position of having to fight to get her old job back in the first place. Her being dumb enough to do the whole long-distance relationship thing again—now that would be some kind of screwed-up karma.
As soon as she walked into the apartment, Jasmine dropped everything except her food. Her last meal during the drive down had consisted of a breakfast bar she’d found in the bottom of her bag along with a package of trail mix she hadn’t eaten during the flight.
On her way to the kitchen, she took off her blazer and heels, and glanced around the modernly furnished apartment. When she’d picked up the keys, Devin Wynn’s assistant had mentioned the place was newly redecorated. It felt like pure luxury after having just spent a week in a basic hotel room.
Not wasting time to find a plate or to sit down at the breakfast bar, she took her dinner out of the bag and peeled back the foil cover on the container.
Just as she dug her plastic fork into the steaming hibachi chicken, someone rang the doorbell. She ignored it. Nothing was worth interrupting dinner. If it was one of her neighbors, they would just have to wait until tomorrow to get acquainted.
The doorbell rang, again, and she released a breath of frustration. Digging back into the takeout bag, she pulled out a napkin and wiped her fingers. “Someone better be on the verge of dying.”
When she reached the door, she looked out the peephole and saw a dark-haired man wearing a blue baseball cap.
“Guys, it’s Jax,” he shouted. “Hurry up and open the damn door; my hands are full.”
While he looked innocuous, she still opened the door with caution.
“Thanks.” His charming smile amped up his boyishly handsome face. “And to show my appreciation, pretty lady, you get the first cold one.” He took a step forward.
Jasmine registered the cases of beer he was carrying at the same time her confusion kicked in. “Whoa—wait. You’re at the wrong apartment.” She placed her hands on the doorjamb to protect her space.
He frowned. “What? Aren’t we watching the fight tonight?”
The guy’s sincerely confused expression was too adorable to blow off with a snide remark. She shook her head. “You have the wrong apartment. What number—”
A sharp whistle cut her off.
“Hey, Jax, up here.”
He took a couple of steps back and looked up. “You asshole, you gave me the wrong apartment number.”
“Whatever,” the guy said from upstairs. “Hurry up. The prelim fights start in twenty minutes.”
Jax looked back at her and gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but hey, if you’re not doing anything tonight, you should come upstairs and watch the boxing match.”
He was cute, but in her mind, she automatically compared him to Ethan and came up short.
She offered him a polite smile. “Thanks for the invite, but it’s been a long day, and I just want to relax.”
“All right,” he said, backing up, “but if you change your mind, come on up. We’re in the apartment right above yours.” He gave her another disarming grin and headed up the stairs.
Jasmine shut the door and went back into the kitchen. As she stood near the counter nibbling on a piece of chicken, she thought, I hope they don’t plan on partying all night.
The doorbell rang again, followed by continuous knocking. She set her fork down on the counter.
Really?
She walked back to the front door and looked through the peephole at two women. One of them went back to knocking loudly while the other leaned insistently on the doorbell.
Releasing a long-suffering sigh, she opened the door and rested one of her hands on her hip. “Let me guess, you’re looking for the fight.”
The dark-haired twins, dressed alike in high-heeled sandals and tight jeans, gave her an assessing look, making her painfully aware of her rumpled appearance.
“Yeah,” they answered in unison.
She pointed up. “Next floor, and can you tell whoever invited you to make sure the rest of his guests know where to go? This is the second time someone’s knocked on my door.”
“Sure.” The twin dressed in aqua flashed a semi-polite smile and they walked away.
Jasmine shut the door and headed back to the kitchen, but after a few steps, the doorbell rang again. Irritation flooding through her system, she marched back to the front door and flung it open. “Upstairs.”
The pizza guy standing in front of her looked hot, sweaty, and even more harassed than she felt. He juggled the six pizza boxes he was holding and looked at the ticket in his hand. “Nope, it says two ham and pineapple, one sausage with extra cheese, one veggie deluxe, and two pepperoni pizzas with olives, green peppers, and sun-dried tomatoes for apartment one-oh-one. That’s you.”
“No, it’s a mistake.” She held her hands up in frustration. “I didn’t order them. They probably belong to the guys upstairs. They’re planning on watching a boxing match.”
The delivery guy snorted. “Yeah, them and everyone else—that fight is the hottest thing on cable tonight. Look, the order was placed early this afternoon, and they tipped extra to make sure we delivered them before the fight to this apartment number.” He shoved the boxes into her hands. “Enjoy.”
“No— Wait.”
The pizza guy hurried away without a backward look.
Jasmine stared down at the boxes in her hands and silently fumed. Who was this guy? No way was she spending the night playing traffic director. He was going to have to make a few phone calls or send out a text message, pronto, to straighten this out.
Shifting the pizza boxes, she freed up a hand and snatched the apartment key ring from the hall table. Jasmine stared down at her pumps. This was going to hurt. Sucking in a breath, she sank her teeth into her bottom lip and almost drew blood as she slid her sore feet back into her shoes. She stepped out the apartment and shut the door behind her. Each throbbing step to the third floor kicked her anger up a notch, and by the time she rapped on the door to apartment 201, Jasmine was ready to let words fly out of her mouth like daggers.
She heard people laughing and shouting behind the door. A male voice called out. “I’m so confident you’re going to lose this bet, I’m going in for twenty more, so either put up or shut up.”
The voice…no, it couldn’t be…
She was more tired than she thought.
The door opened and the pizza boxes nearly slipped out of her hands as the lights directly outside of the apartment illuminated Ethan’s face. Jasmine’s heartbeat accelerated, and waves of tingling heat crept up into her face. He looked good. Blue jeans encased his muscular legs, and the blue button-down shirt he wore brought out the unusual coloring of his eyes.
“I…”
His cool appraisal froze the words on her tongue.
She swallowed. “Things got screwed up.”
Eight ways to Sunday.
His brow rose in question.
“Pizzas.” She held out the boxes. “They were de
livered downstairs by mistake. I—”
“Worth, what’s the holdup?” Jax walked up next to Ethan, and his mouth widened with a big smile. “Hey, pretty lady, you came after all, and you brought pizza. I knew I liked you for a reason, and if I remember correctly, I owe you a beer.” He held up the unopened bottle in his hand. “Come on in.”
The angles in Ethan’s jawline sharpened. “She’s not staying.”
A sense of hurt rushed in with her next breath, but he had a right to be upset about the note and her flimsy excuse.
“What the hell’s going on with the food?” Mitch came up behind Ethan and Jax. He saw her and his eyes widened.
“You should take these before they get cold.” She held the pizzas out to Ethan.
He reached for them and when his fingers lightly grazed hers, they both sucked in a breath. She quickly let go of the boxes. Luckily, Ethan was prepared to take them.
“Oh, come on, you have to stay,” Jax insisted. “I’ll give you blow-by-blow commentary on the fight. It’ll be fun.” He moved to take a step forward and the expression that passed over Ethan’s face should have shattered glass.
“Cease-fire.” Mitch reached around Ethan and grabbed Jax’s shoulder. “This one’s an unauthorized target.”
Ethan shoved the boxes against Jax’s chest. “I think Savannah and Sierra are hungry.”
Needing to free up both hands to hold on to the pizzas, Jax juggled them around and offered her the beer. “Here, take this one for the road. Maybe we can—”
“No, you can’t.” Mitch plucked the bottle out of Jax’s hand and pulled him back inside, leaving her and Ethan at the door.
“Sorry about the mix-up. Mitch gave out the wrong apartment number.” Ethan put his hand on the doorknob. “No one else will bother you tonight.”
“I should explain about this morning.” A hint of desperation spurred the words along. If she’d known they were going to end up in the same place twelve hours later she would have…
What?
“No need.” A faint sardonic smile tipped up the corner of his mouth. “You were clear up front about what you wanted and you got it.”
“Ethan…where’s the wine bottle opener? We can’t find it.” The twin wearing the yellow shirt walked up to him and rested her hand on his shoulder. Shifting her weight, she leaned her hip and most of her side against him. “If we’re going to watch men beating up on each other for the next couple of hours, Savannah and I are going to need wine to help us through it.” She smiled at Jasmine. “You understand—don’t you?”
Jasmine’s gaze dropped down to Ethan’s hand curving around the woman’s tiny waist, and she looked up into his eyes. Something unreadable moved through his gaze, but then it faded into his neutral expression.
Tab’s warning during their phone conversation at the airport mocked Jasmine in her thoughts, and she started backing away from the door.
Karma…
“Yeah,” she said. “I understand completely.”
…
Ethan shut the door and looked at Mitch’s cousin, trying to figure out the innocent look on her face. “What the hell was that about? You guys popped the cork on a bottle as soon as you walked in the door.”
Sierra stepped away from him and shrugged. “Mitch said you needed a save. Who was she, an old girlfriend?”
“No, I just met her last night.”
“Last night?” Sierra gave him a speculative look. “Considering you’re pissed and she’s hurt, I take it whatever happened between the two of you wasn’t exactly casual.”
Hurt? She’s the one who left the damn note. “I’m not pissed and it was casual.”
“Are you sure about that?” She chuckled. “Mitch said Jax almost lost his ability to breathe a minute ago because he offered her a beer.”
Yeah, he’d considered grabbing Jax by the throat, but that was only for a second. Jax, a former Marine sniper, was the new guy, and because he was such an asset to the team he was willing to cut him a break…this time. “Mitch exaggerates.”
“Oh.” Sierra gave him a wide-eyed look. “Then you’re all good with Jax going downstairs and getting her phone number. I’ll let him know.”
Jax keeping watch over his six in the field—absolutely. Pissed at Jax for making a pass at Jasmine—definitely. Jax cozying up to Jasmine in his place—fuck no.
Sierra turned to walk away, and he snagged her by the arm. “Hold on, that’s not what I said.”
She batted her eyelashes at him and waited. He wasn’t fooled. If someone was stupid enough to assume she and her sister were all looks and no common sense, they weren’t averse to playing on it. That mistake usually ended with some poor guy receiving a verbal can of whoop-ass.
“Okay,” he said. “Maybe things aren’t that simple, and maybe I am a little pissed off, but trust me, I have a right to be.”
But he didn’t have a claim on Jasmine. No rights whatsoever and he shouldn’t care, but Jax was only in town for the night, and like any other man out there, he’d make a play to sleep with her. What was he supposed to do? Pat the guy on the back and tell him to go for it? What if, for some crazy reason he didn’t even want to think about, she decided to have another one-nighter? His gut clenched with the thought of Jax kissing her, Jax touching her, Jax experiencing that first stroke of heaven he’d felt when he’d glided into her body.
Ethan closed his eyes for long second. “Just do me a favor and don’t ask.”
Sierra pursed her lips in thought. “Well, can I at least give you some sisterly advice?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No, because you’re all caught up in male ego, and you’re not thinking straight.” Sierra looped her arm through his and led him toward the living room. “I saw the way the two of you looked at each other, and it’s obvious that whatever went on in Miami isn’t done.” She squeezed his arm. “I heard her say she wanted to explain what happened. If you like her as much as I think you do, maybe you should give her a chance.”
Chapter Eight
Jasmine stared at the flat tire on her rental car. “Oh, come on.” Why was this happening? Couldn’t fate, bad luck, or whatever this was have waited until she’d had a decent cup of coffee?
Glancing down at her wrap dress, she debated between calling the rental car company and trying to change it on her own. Opting for the latter, she put her things in the car, and after trading her pumps for gym shoes, she went to the trunk.
Lug wrench, jack, spare tire, they were all there. At least something was going right. A replay of running into Ethan went through her mind, but she wasn’t in the mood to commiserate with misery. She didn’t have time. The tire wasn’t going to change itself, and she had a full day.
Within seconds of trying to maneuver the spare out of the trunk, her skin warmed from the exertion and the sun radiating on her back. It was wedged in tight. Leaning farther in, she rose up on her toes and got a good grasp on it.
“Can I help?”
Startled, she rose up and smacked her head. Her vision blurred as she swayed, and Ethan grabbed her around the waist. He held her close, and the solid feel of his chest under her palms lulled her into staying there, but the faint brush of his lips near her temple jolted her back to her senses.
She pushed away from him. “I’m fine. Let me go.”
“You’re not fine.” He raised his hand and stroked over a spot near her hairline.
She flinched and gingerly touched her forehead. “Stop, that hurts. Why did you sneak up on me like that?”
“I didn’t. I was over there and I called out to you twice.” She followed to where he pointed directly across the parking lot to a sleek dark gray truck.
Irritated, Jasmine turned back and looked up at him. All the moisture dried from her mouth. Nighttime Ethan was handsome. Daytime Ethan was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. His dark hair was still a little damp and curled in waves her fingers itched to run through, and the scent of freshly showered man with a hint of aftersha
ve marinated pleasantly in her lungs. Embarrassed for staring, she looked away, and her gaze skittered over the dark shirt stretching over his chest, and the tan cargo pants tucked cleanly into a pair of military-style boots.
“Come on.” He took hold of her arm and led her away from her car.
“No. I have to change the tire. I’m going to be late for work.” And she needed space, lots of it, so she could stay focused on what she’d drilled into her head during the wee hours of the morning when she was staring at the ceiling. She was there for the job, not Ethan.
Ignoring her objections, he guided her over to his truck. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I’ll call the rental company.”
“Like you were planning to do before I walked up?” He pulled her along, not giving her a chance to dig in her heels. Opening the passenger-side door, he lifted her by the waist and set her down on the seat.
As he braced his hands on the doorframe, his shirt expanded across his chest with a deep breath. “You just said you needed to get to work, and it doesn’t make sense for you to wait for the rental company or for you to keep struggling with the tire in that tight dress. I’m changing it.”
He’d noticed her dress?
After giving herself a mental kick, she squared her shoulders. “I know how to change a flat tire.”
“Look, this isn’t about whether you can handle it.” He took the keys from her hand and raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m just doing for you what I would do for anyone else.” Reaching over her legs, he took a small first aid kit out of the glove compartment and dropped it in her lap. “Take care of your head,” he said and walked away.
Jasmine unsnapped the first aid kit and found an alcohol pad. As she leaned in toward the mirror on the visor, she allowed herself the luxury of a prolonged stare as Ethan walked toward her rental car.
For a man who’d spent most of the night partying, he looked well rested. Things hadn’t settled down upstairs until well after midnight, and then she’d heard people leaving around four-thirty in the morning. Was it the twins? She swiped the pad over her forehead and winced from the sting. Stop. What he did and who he did it with was none of her business. If anything, this situation was an incentive to finish things at Bode-Wynn even faster.