Текст книги "Game for Seduction "

Автор книги: Bella Andre

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Chapter Seven

An unfamiliar whirring sound woke Melissa up. Deep under a plush bedspread and sinfully soft sheets, she opened her eyes. All at once, everything came back to her. Dominic had brought her home from the bar. She'd seduced him and he'd pounced on her and made her every fantasy come to life.

The smell of fresh-ground coffee wafted into the bedroom. Her muscles ached as she stretched. If she had her way, she'd stay naked in Dominic's bed forever.

And he could have his way with her whenever he wanted.

His thrilling words bounced around in her head: You were made for me. It was something she'd always known, but she'd never expected him to feel the same way. Happiness flooded through her as she threw back the covers.

She opened the door to his walk-in closet and took a deep breath of his trademark scent—pine trees in summer sun. Taking a white button-down shirt off its hanger, she slipped it on and smiled. She couldn't wait to persuade him to let their coffee grow cold while they went back to bed and explored the daylight hours together.

Although, she thought with a grin, given the way he'd taken her again and again during the night, he wasn't going to need much persuasion.

She brushed her teeth with some toothpaste on one finger and finger combed her hair. Her makeup had worn off during the night, but every time she thought about their intense lovemaking she flushed and her eyes grew bright, so she figured she looked okay without it.

Naked except for his shirt, which hung to her knees, she walked down the hall to the kitchen.

Dominic's back was to her as she stood in the doorway admiring his beautiful physique. His slacks framed his tight butt and his well-pressed, tailored shirt made his shoulders look impossibly broad. Something about his outfit struck her as odd, though. Did he have an appointment this morning? She hoped he'd whip through his meeting and daily summertime workout and be back soon so they could get back to the good stuff.

"Good morning," she said, her voice a bit chirp ier than she'd planned. How was it that he still made her nervous, after everything they'd shared?

He slowly turned to face her, and her stomach knotted at his serious expression.

"Melissa." He said her name hard and low, like the pronouncement of a death sentence.

"The coffee smells good," she said, trying to act like nothing was wrong, like there wasn't an enormous white elephant in the room with them. "Where do you keep your mugs?"

He pointed to a cupboard above the dishwasher. She opened the cherrywood door and went on her toes to reach for a mug on the top shelf. His shirt rode up her thighs, showcasing the curves of her bottom, and she desperately hoped he was watching. That he'd remember what he'd done to her just a few hours ago, that he'd remember what he'd said about being meant for each other.

Closing the cupboard door, she turned and held out the mug. His hands were steady as he poured, and she worked to control her nerves as she blew steam off the top.

"I'm sorry," he said into the awkward silence. His simple words broke her heart. Obviously he regretted the passionate hours they'd shared. And now he had clearly steeled himself to do the right thing, to apologize for making love to her.

She wanted to cry, to scream that it wasn't fair. She'd thought she was finally going to see her dreams come true; instead, she'd been nothing but a mistake.

A huge mistake, judging by his grim expression. But the worst thing of all would be if he saw how much his rejection hurt her, so she forced herself to stare back into his dark eyes.

"There is nothing to be sorry about," she said in a surprisingly steady voice.

He looked at her with obvious relief, and she realized that he'd been bracing himself for tears. But she hadn't cried in front of her father, and she wasn't going to cry now.

"You were off-limits," he said, as if that should explain everything. "You still are."

Ten minutes ago she'd foolishly assumed they would start dating, that she'd be his girlfriend, just because he made her come three times in a row. But she'd known all along that it was just one night in heaven, hadn't she? She couldn't get all angry and hurt when he'd never promised her anything else.

"Last night was wonderful," she said honestly. "You're a marvelous lover, Dominic."

Dominic leaned against the black granite counter, only a twitching muscle in his temple betraying his discomfort. "I should never have—"

"I'm glad you did." She didn't want any regrets to spoil the magical night they'd shared. "I'm glad we did." She put down her coffee mug. "It's late. I should be heading into the office."

She walked into the living room to get her clothes. She needed to get out of here before she could give in to the hurt.

But Dominic wasn't making it easy on her. He followed her, a big dark presence in the doorway as she dressed.

"I'll make it up to you, Melissa. Just tell me how."

"Stop, please," she said. "We're two adults who wanted to have sex. Let's leave it at that."

But the weight of his remorse hung heavily in the room. "You want to be an agent. I'll be your first client."

His words cut into the armor she'd erected around her heart. He thought he was offering her what she wanted—her first superstar client. Yet she would have given that up a hundred times over if it meant being loved by Dominic every day and every night.

Anger finally burst to the surface. "I don't need any favors. I'm doing fine on my own," she lied.

"Your father won't promote you, will he?"

His question blindsided her. Her fingers stilled on her zipper.

"That's what last night at Barnum's was about," Dominic prodded. "That's why you got drunk. And came home with me." Mild disgust crossed his face. "I know how your father thinks, how he runs his business. He's honest and he's a hell of a negotiator. But he'll never hire a female agent." He paused. "Not even his own daughter."

Melissa swallowed hard. She hated that he'd already figured everything out. Didn't he see how unfair it was to dangle the ultimate carrot over her head, that even one client of Dominic's stature could set her up to attract other big clients and show her father that he was dead wrong about her being a cream puff?

She shook her head, willing the speeding train in her brain to stop before it crashed into a brick wall. She couldn't accept his offer, couldn't serve her pride up on a plate like that.

"You don't owe me anything," she said again. "We had a night of fun. So what? We've both had one-night stands," she lied.

"You haven't."

She stood her ground. "I have." "I'll kill him."

She almost smiled at his surprisingly jealous reaction, but she didn't have a smile in her. Not yet.

"You and I had a great night together. No ties, no promises. Stop worrying," she said, putting a hand on his arm to reassure him. But touching him was a big mistake. She rubbed her hand on her hip to stop the tingling. "I'm fine." She would be. One day.

"I'll have my lawyer draw up a contract this after noon for your review."

She stared at him in disbelief, unable to continue this discussion with him any longer. He was acting like a dictator, yet she was still aroused by him. Every time he moved his arms and his biceps flexed, every time she watched his hands move and thought about what he'd done to her with those long fingers, she started losing the tenuous hold she had over her dignity.

Head held high, she retrieved her bag and walked out the door in her bare feet and down to the elevator. She felt his eyes on her as she pressed the red button and waited for the elevator.

The bell dinged, the stainless steel doors slid open, and she stepped inside. She had to be strong, couldn't let Dominic see how deep his arrows had gone, so she made herself face his stony features as the doors slid closed.

Chapter Eight

Melissa walked into the office after a long, scalding shower and ages in front of her mirror, working on hair and makeup and clothes. Her brain was at war with her body—her body still in a state of bliss, her mind reeling at being kicked to the curb—but she refused to lie down and play dead.

She wore a snug purple V-neck cashmere sweater she'd stashed at the bottom of a drawer. If ever there was a day for a jolt of confidence, this was it, so she added a wholly unnecessary push-up bra. Paired with perfectly tailored black slacks, she hoped she looked like a million bucks, even if she felt like the ninety-nine-cent special.

For the second day in a row, Angie waylaid her. "Your father has been trying to get a hold of you for hours," she said, her tone both accusing and questioning.

Melissa shrugged. She had more important things to think about than her father's endless laundry list of tasks. Like getting a new job at a new agency, for instance. Or, even better, starting her own. "You can tell him I'm here now."

She went to her cubicle, sat down at her desk, and logged on to her computer. By the time she left work today, she'd have a list of strong contacts at the top five other agencies in the football business. Scratch that; she wasn't going to limit her search to football. She'd always liked baseball and hockey. Hell, she could learn to like boxing or golf if she had to.

Her phone rang and, foolishly, her first thought was, Dominic. But when she looked at the caller ID, it was just Angie calling to say that her father was eagerly awaiting her presence.

Melissa closed her eyes. She couldn't get her hopes up every time the phone rang, couldn't waste her life daydreaming that Dominic was going to fall in love with her.

Pushing back her chair, she slipped on a pair of red-rimmed no-prescription glasses she'd bought for the express purpose of looking tougher, more sharply angled. Her father's door was wide open and she sat on his couch, unwilling to subject herself to the seat of torture in front of his desk. Surprisingly, he got up to join her.

He laid a thick file down on the coffee table. "I've given more thought to yesterday's discussion."

He looked intensely uncomfortable, and her first instinct was to say something to put him at ease, to let him think she hadn't been hurt by the way he'd shut down her dreams. But her self-respect rose up and she settled for crossing her legs and waiting for him to continue.

"I've decided to give you full representation of a new client."

Nothing could have shocked her more. "Seriously?"

He rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking his age. "Your mother read me the riot act. Said I wasn't giving you a fair chance."

So Mommy had come to rescue her baby girl, just like she had years ago on the playground, or at the dinner table when her father chastised her for not getting better grades. Which meant that nothing had really changed. Her father didn't really want her to be an agent.

He was simply afraid of his wife.

Melissa stopped her self-pitying thoughts cold. If she wanted to change her life, she needed to focus on the positive. Regardless of her father's reasons for giving her this chance, this was her opportunity to blow his expectations out of the water.

"Who's the player?"

He gestured to the file and she picked it up. JP Jesse. His name vaguely registered on her radar.

"He's been playing for five years. The Tennessee Titans cut him and he was an unrestricted free agent who no one wanted out of the gate in March. In May he was given a tender offer by the Titans, but he's desperate to get out of Tennessee. Which means the clock is ticking on signing him to another team before the free-agent period runs out July twenty-second. And I don't have two weeks to kill finding JP a new contract."

But she did. She flipped through JP's file. He didn't play much, but when he did his stats were impressive, averaging fifteen yards a reception and a touchdown every ten catches.

"Looks like he has potential," she said as she scanned the information.

Her father shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."

A warning bell went off in her head. Her father never took on long shots; every last one of his clients was a sure thing. Oh crap. He's taken on a player to pacify me.

"Does he drink?" she asked. "Party? Blow it during big games when the pressure's on?"

Her father nodded. "All of the above. The Titans' official reason for releasing him was a DUI he got in January. But after looking through his file, I think he's got bigger problems than partying too hard." He paused. "I'm counting on you to make him into a star wide receiver. Or drop him on his ass."

How the hell was she supposed to do all that in two weeks? Well, this was her chance to prove to her father that she had what it took to be the best damn agent in the business. "Thank you for this opportunity."

Leaving her father's office, she pulled out JP's 8 x 10. A tall, lean, dirty blonde with a wicked gleam in his eyes stared back at her. Unabashed sensuality leaped off the page. They'd start with his looks, then work on his skills. With a face and body like that, if she couldn't get him a new contract, maybe she could negotiate an agreement with a modeling agency.

Engrossed in JP's file, she walked straight into a rock wall. The folder—along with her glasses—went flying as she tried to catch her balance. Strong hands curled around her shoulders and a familiar scent of heat and pine needles assailed her senses.

"Steady now," the wall said as he slid his hands down her arms.

"I'm fine," Melissa muttered into Dominic's chest. "You can let go of me now."

Both bent down to pick up the pages and videos from JP's file. "Thanks," she said, then stood and replaced her glasses. Edging past him in the suddenly small hallway, she dismissed him with a cheerful, "Have a nice day."

But his fingers cupped her elbow. "We need to talk."

Her heart thumped erratically. Couldn't he at least give her twenty-four hours? But this was her father's office, and she had no choice but to listen to his superstar clients.

"Follow me," she said, leading Dominic into the biggest conference room in the agency, one that could hold all forty board members. Unlike the smaller conference rooms, which had glass walls that looked into the main office floor, this one was paneled in glossy mahogany. Now if he would just sit at the far end of the enormous table, she might be able to get through part deux of their postscrew chat in one piece.

He pulled out the chair next to hers and her body reacted to his nearness against her will. "What can I help you with?" she asked impersonally.

He handed her a thick sheaf of papers. "Here's our new contract." His eyes were dark and hungry– but still guilty. "I'm yours."

Her nipples peaked and she knew her sweater did nothing to disguise her arousal. How badly she wanted his words to be true. But not like this—not because he thought he owed her for having sex with her.

Shaking her head, she slid the papers back to him. "I've already got my first client," she said, thankful that it was true. "I don't need your charity."

He looked taken aback. "Your father changed his mind?"

She lifted her chin. "He did." She'd never admit to anyone in a million billion years that her mother had been behind it.

He smiled at her and butterflies did 360s in her stomach. "I'm glad." He looked at the thick folder. "Who'd he give you?"

She pressed her lips together. "JP Jesse. A free agent wide receiver."

Dominic frowned. "Tom is setting you up to fail."

She couldn't let Dominic know that she'd thought the very same thing. "JP is undervalued."

"He's undisciplined."

"He's uncultivated," she countered.

"He's a troublemaker."

He stood up and walked to the window. "You're smart, Melissa," he said, "and I've been consistently impressed with the work you've done for the agency."

"But?"

He rubbed his smooth chin, carefully weighing his words. "You're green. There's no way you can handle a player like JP the first time out. I'm offering you my help." His eyes bored a hole into her. "Take it."

She stared at him, the way the sunlight surrounded him like a halo. As much as she wanted to deny his statements, he was right. The odds of her failing were enormous. Especially if her first—and only—client was a playboy with a tenuous future. And yet, she couldn't accept Dominic's offer. Not when he was switching agents for all the wrong reasons.

"I told you this morning and I'll tell you again– I'm not angry," she said in a soft voice. "So please don't feel guilty anymore."

He took a step toward her. "I owe you."

She shook her head. "No, Dominic. Not like this."

He moved closer and she fought the urge to back up. She couldn't think straight when he was near.

Not budging an inch, he said, "Working together is the perfect solution."

"You just said it yourself," she insisted. "I'm green. Why would you put your career in the hands of someone you think can't handle it?"

He closed the distance between them, pulling her hard against him, just as he had in the photo studio. Then his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her like he did in all her dreams, as if he were dying of thirst and she was the only water for miles. At last he pulled away.

"One more time," he murmured as she tried to catch her breath. "You're an amazing woman, Melissa. You can handle anything thrown your way. Even me."

She pressed her fingertips to her mouth. Was that why he'd just kissed her? To see how she'd handle it? The past twenty-four hours had been the most confusing of her life. She could barely think straight now that he'd kissed her again, and she knew that she shouldn't make such a big decision so quickly anyway.

She edged toward the door, picking up JP's folder. "I need some time to think about it."

She could have sworn he was about to smile, that he thought he'd already won. Instead he said, "Fair enough. I'll pick you up at seven."

"What are you talking about?"

Again he closed the distance between them. "I'm taking you to dinner tonight. And we're going to talk. About your career." His eyes fell to her lips, still buzzing from his kiss and utterly desperate lor another. His gaze returned to her eyes. "And mine."

Melissa felt dazed. Was this supposed to be a date? Or was this purely business?

Or, worst of all, was it round two of his apology for impulsively having sex with her?

It took every mind game Dominic knew to shake off the vision of Melissa in that tight purple sweater. Like one of Pavlov's dogs, he'd been salivating at the thought of tonguing her nipples again, of sucking her sweet flesh into his mouth. Jesus. He needed to get a grip.

He'd cornered her to make amends, not to fuck her senseless in the McKnight Agency boardroom. He still couldn't believe how calm she'd been this morning. She hadn't even wanted him to apologize for his out-of-line behavior. But his gut had told him he'd screwed up, and he had to fix it. Even if she didn't want him to.

Then he'd lost control again and kissed her. Shit, he hadn't been able to think straight, hadn't been able to concentrate on anything but her luscious curves and her sweet mouth. But the too-short kiss hadn't gotten her out of his system. Instead, he wanted her more than ever, wanted to continue where that kiss had left off.

For twenty years, he'd honed his control on and off the football field. Now was no time to lose it. It was time to put his mistakes behind him and move forward, just like he'd always done.

Bypassing Angie with a kiss on her cheek, he knocked once before walking into Tom's office. As they shook hands and said hello, Dominic studied the successful businessman. He would go ballistic if he found out his daughter was sleeping with a man he trusted. Any man would.

Ever since he'd fucked up big time in high school, he'd made it a point to stay out of the doghouse. No illegitimate children. No bar brawls. No trash talk. Until last night, with Melissa, when he hadn't been able to stop touching her, to keep his dick out of her slick heat.

Not wasting any time on pleasantries, he said, "I hear you gave JP to Melissa."

A flash of surprise crossed Tom's face. "Word travels fast in this business."

Dominic sat across from Tom on the leather couch. He remembered when Tom had been named agent of the year at the Sports Business Awards dinner. That was the year Dominic's endorsement offers had shot through the roof. And Tom had negotiated the hell out of them, making Dominic a very, very rich man.

"JP's gonna be a tough one."

Tom shrugged. "If she drowns in the deep end, it'll be her own damn fault for swimming out too far."

Dominic didn't like Tom's attitude, and his resolve to work with Melissa strengthened. "Move me. Melissa can have both of us."

Tom frowned. "Are you shitting me? Why the hell would you want her to represent you?"

"She's got potential. You're her boss; I'm sure you see it," Dominic added, even though he knew damn well that Tom saw nothing of the sort. "Someone's got to give her a chance. I've been in this business a long time, and I've watched her grow into a hell of a businesswoman. I'm happy to help out."

"Did she beg you to do this? Did she cry?" "Of course not." Dominic stood up. "Hand her my files."

He left, anger thrumming through his veins. He needed a killer workout to keep him from knocking his ex-agent's teeth out.

Tonight, over dinner, they'd talk business. And then he'd take her home and leave her there. With her doors locked and dead bolted, she'd be safe from him.

Like she should have been all along.

"What the fuck is going on between you and Dominic?"

Melissa spun around at the sound of her father's voice. He never swore. Never.

"Follow me," he demanded.

She shot out of her chair and followed him into the same conference room she and Dominic had occupied not five minutes earlier. Her father waited for her to step inside before closing the door. Loudly.

"Dominic just waltzed into my office and told me to transfer his files to you." He pinned her with a hard gaze. "Did you know about this?"

Melissa didn't know what to do. Should she lie? No, she was a terrible liar. It would only make things worse. "Yes," she said. "He wants to work with me. I told him no."

Her father's gaze was unyielding. "You turned down an offer to work with one of the greatest football players of all time?"

She nodded. "I want to be an agent, but I'm not going to steal your clients."

Tom walked past her to stare out the plate-glass windows at the Bay. "Sink or swim."

"Excuse me?"

Her father turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "I don't have the first clue why he wants to work with you. But go ahead, take him. He's yours." He strode to the door, stopping just inside the threshold, "just be careful, Melissa. Dominic might seem like a nice guy, but he's just like any other player, keeping an eye out for the next best thing to come along." He paused. "And I wouldn't trust JP as far as I could throw him. You're a pretty girl. Don't forget it."