Текст книги "Game for Anything "

Автор книги: Bella Andre

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But she didn't have the slightest desire to reform a bad boy She liked her men intelligent, well groomed, and low-key.

Unfortunately, Sean took her silence as acquiescence, because he said, "We'll be by your office in twenty minutes," then hung up.

Julie blinked at the telephone for a long, confused moment, then ripped off her headset and threw it down onto her glass-topped desk.

"Amy," she called, "I need you to take a meeting for me." But when she poked her head into her friend's office, it was empty.

"Amy just left for a doctor's appointment," her new receptionist said with a helpful smile.

"Oh, right, thanks," Julie said, hating the way she was stumbling over her thoughts—something she never, ever did.

Pull yourself together. This meeting would be no different from any other difficult situation. She'd be cool, composed, and unflappable. No matter what Ty said or did, she'd refuse to be baited. She felt nothing but pity for the man he'd become. A boy could be excused for his actions, but a man had to take responsibility for his life. Based on media accounts of his wild partying and speeding tickets and evenings with strippers, Ty was as far from responsible as a person could be. No matter how good he looked when he walked in the door, pity would be her only emotion.

As she redid her makeup, made sure that her fishnets didn't have a run, and buffed her peep-toe, black patent leather heels, Julie reminded herself that anything she'd felt for him had died long ago. And nothing could ever bring those pointless feelings back.

CHAPTER THREE

Ty followed Sean through a shiny red door into Julie's office, and didn't even stare at the cute receptionist's nicely showcased ass. Not today. Today was all about Julie. He looked into the glass-walled offices beyond, not surprised to see that Julie had done very well for herself. She'd always been poised to be successful, to take what she wanted. And then he saw her, pushing open the door of her office, walking straight toward them. A surge of emotions shot through him—longing, hope, pain, lust—and he knew the only way he could deal was to shut them all down.

Heat shot straight to his groin. Even in her buttoned-up-to-the-neck sweater and knee-length skirt, Julie put every other woman he'd been with to shame. She was still the bar by which he measured the female sex, and everyone else came up short. Way short.

Her legs seemed to go all the way to her neck, and they were neither pencil thin nor overly muscular. She had rounded calves that he wanted to sink his teeth into, the sexiest kneecaps he'd ever seen, and her thighs would tempt a monk. Plus, that glorious ass of hers created the perfect waist-to-hips ratio. They were the perfect handful for grabbing onto when she was riding above—or below—him in bed.

Ty's gaze moved past her waist and up to her chest. Damn, a guy could be moved to write poetry about breasts like those. Marilyn Monroe would have had some stiff competition if Julie had been around in the fifties.

Finally raising his gaze to her face, he took in the ice-cold eyes that studied him as if he were a bug beneath a microscope.

One that she wanted to spear beneath her very sexy stiletto heel.

Okay, so she was still pissed at him. No big surprise there. A flash of guilt hit him square in the chest, and he couldn't believe he was still feeling bad about things after all these years. Grad night had been the usual party mix of drinking, dancing, and sex. The only surprising thing was that the sex had been with a virgin.

With Little Miss Perfect.

With the one girl he'd always wanted but knew he could never have.

He'd never been good enough for her, and one look now at her expression told him that all the money and fame and success in the world hadn't changed anything.

Julie seethed as Ty reached out to shake her hand. How dare he walk into her office as if he'd never ripped her heart out of her chest and thrown it overboard? Her final words to him on the morning after grad night played over and over in her head.

I hate you. I'll always hate you. And I never, ever want to see you again. After ten long years, she hadn't been able to think of anything more sophisticated and cutting that she could have said. Not when her heart had been broken into a million, billion pieces. Not when he'd stolen her virginity and then dumped her in the most humiliating way possible less than twenty-four hours later. The bastard.

In the back of Julie's head a voice whispered, Are you sure he really stole it from you? Didn't you practically shove it at him like the desperate virgin you were?

As far as she was concerned, that voice—and Ty—could go to hell.

Forcing herself to shake his hand in as detached a manner as was humanly possible, Julie acknowledged another big reason for her anger: Even after a lifetime of hard living, even though he rated a negative number on the scale of humanity, Ty Calhoun was still the most incredibly gorgeous man she'd ever set eyes on.

He'd been a hot, hunky teenager. And now, ten years later, he had the build of a warrior. Beneath his expensive shirt and overpriced jeans, his well-trained muscles were hard and tight. His jaw had filled out just enough to lend a rough edge to his male beauty, and the light stubble that covered his chin drew her attention to his lips, which held incredible sensual promise.

"Nice to meet you," she lied, hating his smirk, hating the fact that her body still responded traitorously to his touch. Goddamnit!

Julie pulled her hand away, reminding herself that she was in complete control of the situation.

"Now, Julie," he drawled, "I can't believe you don't remember me." She itched to smack the lazy grin off his perfect face even as she searched his eyes for any sign of remorse. Nothing. Just as she'd figured:

Once an asshole, always an asshole.

Raising a condescending eyebrow, she tilted her chin the slightest bit as if she was trying to place him among her enormous list of other unimportant acquaintances.

"Oh yes, now I remember you," she said, pleased with how smooth she sounded. "Didn't you go to my high school?"

"Sure did," he replied, and she could feel him laughing at her with his eyes, practically hear him thinking how pathetic she still was after all these years, trying to pretend that she didn't know him. He probably thought she had run home to dress up for him, that she was wearing sexy heels and fishnets to try and seduce him.

Sean studied the two of them between narrowed eyes. "You two know each other?"

"Yup," Ty said just as Julie muttered, "Barely."

"We ran in different crowds," Ty clarified. "She was class president, went to Stanford. One of those brainy, do-good types."

"And he was a jock," Julie spat.

Sean laughed. "Thank God for that. Jocks pay my salary, you know. But fact is, we need you to make everything nice and pretty for us again. With the media, the fans, and especially the new team owner, who's a full-blown southern conservative."

Julie led the two men to her spacious, colorful office, knowing Ty was taking it all in. Bet none of your little playthings know how to run their own business, do they?

Sean didn't waste another second making his sales pitch. "It's pretty obvious that you don't have a very high opinion of jocks. Or Ty."

Julie almost laughed. Talk about being up-front! It was an impressive, and disconcerting, tactic. She nodded. "That's right."

An odd expression flashed across Ty's face, quickly replaced by his I-don't-have-a-care-in-the-worldand-yes-I-was-born-looking-this-good mask.

"Perfect," Sean replied. "You're exactly the right person for the job." Ty's and Julie's heads jerked toward Sean in surprise.

"Here's how I see it," Sean explained. "Since you don't like football or our star player, you know exactly what other people are having a problem with. You get the issues. Now we just need you to make them go away."

"He parties too hard and sleeps with too many bimbos," Julie stated bluntly. "Dressing him up and having him say a few nice things to the press isn't going to make much of a difference. Not to the public or a new conservative boss."

"Keeping tabs on me, Julie?" Ty asked cockily.

"You're right," Sean said, ignoring Ty. "He's a piece of work. He's also the best thing football has seen in the past decade. We don't want to lose him. I don't want to lose him. He's not only the best quarterback around, but he's my friend. So I'm asking you again, would you please take him on as a client?"

Ty gave Julie a look that said, See, I'm still the hottest game in town, baby, and she stifled the urge to throw a heavy glass paperweight at the sexy, egotistical SOB.

"I'm asking you to name your price for two weeks with Ty," Sean continued. "We'll throw in perks, a car, whatever you want, in addition to a super-size fee. We can't change his image and make the big boss happy without you."

She calmly said, "I've already told you that my firm is unavailable at present. I'd be happy to phone several other image consultants while you wait."

"Are you scared of me?"

Ty's words were just to the left of taunting, just to the right of a sexy challenge. Julie felt her lips

draw into a tight line; she forcibly relaxed the muscles in her face. Like hell if she was falling for that trick again.

"You're not important enough for me to have an opinion of you one way or the other," she said coolly.

Hearing the words come out of her mouth, so strong and confident, Julie even believed them herself. Which meant. . . she could take the job. She knew exactly what he was now so there was no chance he could fool her again.

So in return for a bigger paycheck than she thought she'd ever see, she'd spend two weeks with a man to whom she'd been just a teeny, tiny notch on a very long belt—and this time, she'd walk away laughing.

CHAPTER FOUR

What have I done? I'm in big trouble! The thoughts whirled around in Julie's head as she followed Ty's flashy Maserati in her economical Prius. She'd nearly called Sean back to tell him she'd made a mistake, that she was the last person on earth to try to set Ty on the straight and narrow, that they needed to find another image consultant, any other one but her!

How was she going to make it through the next two weeks? Even the next hour was worrying, since a familiar warmth had already settled between her thighs and the tips of her breasts felt sensitive as they rubbed against the cups of her lacy bra.

Five minutes in her office with Ty and she'd been reduced to a quivering pile of hormones. And they hadn't even been alone! How on earth was she going to keep it together when it was just the two of them?

How could she possibly keep her panties on around him?

He pulled his senselessly expensive car into one of the slots in a six-car garage of one of the most stunning houses she'd ever set eyes on, and she whispered to herself, "You've got to be kidding me."

Julie had grown up with money. Lots of money. Yet she'd never seen anything quite as impressive as Ty's estate, smack-dab on the water in the Seacliff district of San Francisco. Over the past few decades, houses here were selling for $15 to $20 million, only to be torn down for sprawling McMansions to be built in their place. The glass-and-steel structures often looked out of place in the once architecturally rich neighborhood.

Surprisingly, Ty's house looked to be original– albeit updated—1920's architecture. Julie would much rather have had their first planning meeting at her office, with her staff nearby to protect her from his charm. A crowded restaurant would have been even better. Anything other than Ty's personal kingdom. But he'd insisted.

"Now that I'm your top client, don't you need to get to know me?" he'd said. She'd been so upset with his easy maneuvering of her and the situation that her reply had been cutting. "I suppose I do need to see everything that's wrong before I can begin to start making changes. What better place than your house? I'm sure it's a treasure trove of surprises." Again, pain flashed in his eyes too quickly for him to shutter it. How was he managing to make her feel like the bad guy? He'd been the one who'd hurt her. Not the other way around. She sat behind the wheel of her car a moment too long and he opened the door for her and held his hand out. She didn't want his help, even if it was a surprisingly gentlemanly thing to be doing.

"Maybe I won't have to teach you absolutely everything about proper behavior," she said as she placed her hand in his in place of a thank-you.

As she stood in his driveway, she felt like she'd lost her entire foundation. She'd never wanted to be this close to Ty again or have him look at her like that—like he wanted her to kiss him, just like he had when they were eighteen and she'd been so delighted by his attention.

And now here they were and it was as if the past ten years had never happened. Because she was still consumed with the same pathetic lust and desperation.

She quickly pulled her hand back and he put his up in a gesture of surrender.

" I know this is a pretty rough surprise, having to work with me. If you'd rather not take me on, Julie, just say the word. I'm sure the team can find someone else to clean up my act." She stared at him, hearing the challenge beneath his words.

"Oh no, I'm definitely up to the test," she said, suddenly remembering that she was supposed to be the one in control here, not him. Still, as she walked up his beautifully paved driveway, knowing his eyes were trained on the sway of her hips, the curve of her calves in her heels, she gave quiet thanks for the angel that helped her choose one of her sexiest business outfits to wear this morning. Just think if she'd been PMSing and had put on that frumpy brown-pant suit that she'd been meaning to give away for the past few months. God, that would have been embarrassing. His front door was open and she wondered if he had trained his servants to open the door, put the champagne on ice, and turn down his silk sheets the moment they saw him coming home with a woman.

Julie knew she didn't measure up to the hot babes he normally dated, but some twisted part of her actually hoped that his staff would think that she could get Ty, rather than just be a paid business associate.

Nonetheless, she couldn't fail to be impressed by his house and property. The foyer alone had one of the most beautiful views in all of San Francisco. The Golden Gate Bridge glittered red in the sunlight to her right, the surf and the Farallon Islands directly in front of the house. He'd certainly come a long way. And even though their past was messy she admired all he'd achieved. From life in a trailer park to all this. While she worked for what she had, she'd never had to struggle for money or respect. Not like he had.

A large yacht motored past his house just as she felt him move behind her. Suddenly she was eighteen again, standing at the rail of the marina in Sau-salito, knowing the boy she adored was close enough to touch.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"More beautiful than I ever imagined," was his slightly gruff reply near her left ear. She didn't think he was talking about the view from his house. Julie could feel his breath on her skin, his heat at her back. She wanted nothing more than to turn to him, to give herself up to the incredible pleasure of his touch.

Just when she didn't think she could hold out another second from doing the second stupidest thing in her entire life, shouts rang out from the large room off of the foyer. Taking it as her cue to get away from Ty, she dashed into the impressive kitchen. Just beyond the enormous granite-topped island, she saw three large men in various states of disrepair dancing on colorful plastic floor mats in the family room.

"Dude," one of them said without looking over his shoulder at Julie and Ty, "I just totally trumped Alex. I toldyou guys I was a Dance Dance Revolution king!"

Ty grinned and leaned against a sink. "Now that's something to be proud of, my friend." Ignoring the silly part of her that wanted to kick off her shoes and dance to the music pumping out of Ty's enormous flatscreen TV, she coolly said, "I'd love to meet your friends."

"Guys, this is Julie."

All three men—if you could call shirtless guys who hadn't shaved in well over twenty-four hours playing a kid's video game men—spun around to meet Ty's groupie of the hour. The Dance King's eyes lit up and he whistled as he looked her up and down and then back up to her breasts. "Well, hello there, pretty lady," he finally said as he managed to tear his gaze away from her chest and make eye contact.

She gave him her primmest smile in return. "It's so nice to meet you." Ty's incredible estate was nothing more than a glorified frat house. They wouldn't get any work done in this kind of environment. Besides, didn't he care that his friends were eating his food, messing up his house, and playing with his toys, but didn't respect him enough to keep the front door shut or throw away their pizza boxes when they were through?

Without bothering to confer with Ty—after all, he was her client and her word was law from here on out—she walked over to the couch and began picking up shirts and socks and shoes between her thumb and forefinger.

"And who does this belong to?" and "Is this yours?" mingled with the electronic beats playing on the enormous TV.

As the three very confused men dutifully dressed themselves, she found the remote control under a discarded sweatshirt and hit the Power button.

She assumed the guys who now stood before her in wrinkled clothes were also football players. But even though they had bulging muscles and the letter O was shaved into the side of one man's head, they seemed no more fearsome than little boys.

"Why don't you head home, take a shower, eat something, and get some rest," she suggested to them.

"Who are you?" asked one man.

She smiled. "Ty and I go way back."

Everyone in the room simultaneously smirked so she said, "He asked me to clean up some messes for him," then looked pointedly at their collective untidiness. She caught Ty's shrug from the corner of her eye and had to hold back a giggle when the biggest, brawniest, meanest-looking guy said, "I don't know who you're calling a mess, dude, but I'm outta here."

"Me too," said the others, but not before they helped themselves to a couple of sodas and doughnuts on their way out.

"Close the door behind you, please," she called out, feeling deliciously puritanical. Unfortunately, Ty knew exactly how to keep her from enjoying her newfound pleasure in kicking butt. "You've got to check out my pool," he said, just as a stunning young woman unfurled herself—all long arms, legs, enormous naked breasts, and tiny waist—from his hot tub. And there wasn't just one Amazon lounging in perfect near-nakedness beside his pool, but two.

Julie knew she was attractive, but in a beauty competition with women like these, she was the sure loser.

Her second thought was even odder. For the first time, it occurred to her that it must be quite a burden on Ty to be so good looking. And so rich and successful too. How could he know if any of these people were true friends? If they really liked him, or found his jokes funny?

Incredible. All the bronzed, toned flesh and silicone was making her so loopy, she'd actually spent five seconds feeling empathy for a man who had it all.

But why did everything in his life have to be so senselessly over the top? Yes, he was trailer park boy done good, but couldn't he do good for other people as well, rather than just himself and his equally pretty friends?

And then, she smiled. Because she'd just figured out how she was going to reform Ty: not only in the public eye, but for his own good too. He was going to spend the summer doing good things for other people. Even if it went against the natural inclination of every bone in his body. The first stop on that train was pulling the rest of the leeches off and throwing them back into the water. Bye-bye, girls!

With unmitigated glee, Julie said, "Hi, ladies, I'm the new cruise director. It's nice to meet you." The topless redhead scrunched her nose. "Urn, we're not on a cruise." Julie didn't laugh; that would be downright cruel. "Nope, just a figure of speech." She clapped her hands together. "In any case, your friend Ty has a lot of important things he needs to take care of, so I'm afraid you'll have to be on your way."

The blonde slipped her sunglasses off. "Anything I can help with?" Ty smiled at Julie. "Cindy here is real good at following directions." The fact that fire didn't shoot out of Julie's ears was a miracle. A vivid image of this girl touching Ty, doing all the things to him that she'd done so many years ago, that she'd helplessly dreamed of doing again and again for a decade, nearly did her in. Julie wanted to take the blonde down, rip the silicone out of her breasts, and make sure she never came within a mile of Ty. Instead, Julie smiled and said, "Don't worry. I'll give you a call if we need you for anything." Likewhen he needs his toilet cleaned.

Surreptitiously, she watched Ty to see if he was drooling as the girls put their very skimpy clothes back on. Strangely, he didn't seem to be all that interested in the show they were putting on for him. Instead he pulled out his BlackBerry and checked his email, typing in a quick message. Even when each girl pressed against his arm and gave him a peck on the cheek, he barely looked up. She'd never met anyone who appreciated a woman's curves as thoroughly as he did, so what could be the explanation for his diffidence with these women? What man on earth wouldn't be dying to have immediate sex with them?

Ty slipped his BlackBerry into his back pocket and grinned at her. "Good work. I couldn't have cleared the place better myself."

She frowned. He wasn't supposed to be happy with her kicking his friends out. She'd been trying to get under his skin, piss him off a little.

And he definitely wasn't supposed to focus his attention on her and say, "Looks like it's just the two of us now."

What have I done? It was her own damn fault for thinking she was smarter than Ty. Or that she had a prayer of a chance of resisting him.