This Christmas Rivalry Page 7

  “Yes.”

  “So am I.”

  The heat flowing between them was as vibrant as the notes of the flute wafting softly through the room.

  He said, “You keep looking at me that way and your food will get cold.”

  Embarrassment made her drop her gaze. “Didn’t mean to stare.”

  “Not complaining. I’ve been staring at you since the minute we met. Like that dress, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” Tasha found herself wanting to know everything about him, his dreams, his hopes and whatever else he had hidden inside. She hadn’t expected him to be so complex, and it was the complexity that drew her the most—that and his dazzling kisses.

  They stopped staring at each other long enough to start their meals.

  “Can the people in the club see us?” she asked around a bite of a tasty, well-seasoned French fry.

  “No. The glass is one way.”

  “Ah.” She wondered how many other women he’d invited into his private sanctuary. Whether he’d designed it purposefully or not, she found the space to be very seductive.

  And before long, the heated lingering looks, coupled with their nearness and the memories of kisses under the moonlight, soon replaced their need for food with a need as old as Adam and Eve. Placing his arm around her waist he gently captured her and eased her closer. On her knees, their bodies flush, she initiated the kissing this time around while his hand slid up and down the back of her sapphire dress.

  He whispered between kisses, “I want to make love to you, Tash, so if that’s not what you want, I should probably take you home.”

  His lips against the tops of her breasts were so hot she expected to see steam rising from her skin. “I’ll stay,” she managed to reply, “as long as there are no ties or commitments.”

  The last thing she wanted was for him to think he owed her something at the end of the interlude.

  “I want nothing from you but this night.”

  Her neckline was eased down and whatever response she thought she had dissolved in the haze brought on by his knuckle grazing over an already tight nipple through her sexy sapphire bra.

  “This is a pretty hot bra for an investment banker, Ms. Bloom.” And as if to show her how hot, he took that same nipple into his mouth and she melted like ice cream in the sun.

  “Oh,” she breathed.

  “I’m going to eat you up, baby girl.”

  While she pulsed in response to him treating the other nipple to the same erotic greeting, he whispered all the ways he planned to take her. The more he promised, the hotter she became. Tasha never realized she liked having a man talk to her while they made love, but with Drew Davis it was a complete turn-on. He continued to ply her with kisses and touches that sent her soaring. By the time he slid the zipper down on her dress, she was well on the way to orgasm.

  * * *

  Drew was as hard as he ever remembered being. She was as uninhibited as she was classy, a win-win situation for any male. The lace-edged thong teasing his eyes matched the bra in color and allure, but seeing the small sapphire in her navel made him want to ease her down and fill her with his hardness until he roared. Damn, she was hot. He wanted to ask her about the piercing but put it off. He didn’t want to talk. He brushed his finger gently over the jewel and then the one between her thighs. She was warm and wet.

  In response to his play, Tasha’s hips began moving and seeking. He left the heat between her thighs just long enough to free a breast from the bra, then took it in his mouth just as his finger entered her heat. The orgasm exploded. Bucking and yelling hoarsely she dropped her head against his strong shoulder while he continued to send her into paradise.

  Next thing she knew, she was in his arms and they were moving. Still riding the echoes of completion, she didn’t seem to care where he was carrying her as long as he didn’t leave her.

  Drew placed her gently on his bed, stripped himself and reached into the drawer for a condom. Drawing it on, he joined her on the bed and slowly ran his hands up and down her sexy little body until he had her twisting and moaning again. Her nipples were as hard as the sapphire in her navel. He spent a moment making sure they stayed that way before moving his hands and lips down to the sapphire. He flicked his tongue against it. She arched sensually and he dragged the thong down and off. No further words were needed; all he needed was her. He slid his hard shaft inside, and as she tightened around him it took all he had not to come there and then. “God, woman.”

  And then they were moving in the age-old call and response of love. It didn’t take long for her to shatter again, and her cries of ecstasy triggered his own roar of release.

  Drew lost count of how many times they pleasured each other and how many different places in the office suite they used. She straddled him on the leather couch and he took her there, then from behind with her breasts and body pressed against the glass while he thrusted vigorously and the music flowed sensually around them. He rode her and she rode him until neither could move. At one point, they stopped to catch their breath and took a shower, only to wind up answering passion’s call again under the hot water pouring from the jets.

  By four in the morning, they were both lying on the bed breathless and boneless. He slid a caress over her hard nipple and realized he could make love to her for the rest of his life, but he remembered their agreement—no ties, no commitments. “I should probably get you home.”

  Tasha’s body rippled in response to his teasing touch. She couldn’t believe that after all they’d done, her body still craved more. “I suppose.” She turned her head to look into his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me falling in love with you or trapping you into something you’d rather not do. We had our one night.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  He leaned over, they shared a fervent parting kiss, then left the bed to find their clothing.

  On the ride to her place, they were both silently mining their own thoughts. Tasha admitted to herself just how much she wanted this incredible man in her life but knew she had to keep the desire unspoken.

  Drew felt the same way but knew he had little to offer such a worldly woman outside of pleasure.

  When they reached the mansion, he parked out front but kept the engine running. He wanted more of her company but he couldn’t tell her that, so he said nothing and waited for her to initiate the goodbye.

  “I’ll start making calls about the field on Monday.”

  “Okay.”

  “I had a wonderful time, Drew. Thank you.”

  “Same here. See you soon.”

  She gave him that smile and opened the door. “Bye.”

  “Bye, Tash.”

  He watched her walk to the door. Aided by the porch light above her head, she pushed in her key and went inside. After the door closed her in, he sat there for a long moment thinking about the incredible Natasha Bloom, then forced himself to drive away.

  * * *

  In her bedroom, Tasha stripped off her wrinkled dress and smiled at the idea of having found it underneath his bed. After a trip to the dry cleaner’s it would be good as new, but it would forever remain Drew’s dress and each time she looked at it, she’d remember him. All that being said, she had no idea how she was going to manage seeing him in the future and not remember the feel of his thrusts as she stood against the glass, the way he made her nipples sing so lustfully and the earth-shattering orgasms he’d treated her to. Drew Davis was a talented man, and Lord knew she wanted him again, but they’d agreed on no commitment and no ties, so that’s the way it would have to be.

  * * *

  Drew opted to sleep in his suite at the club. Usually his nights were spent at his apartment, but Tasha’s hold on him was still so strong that he wanted to be where they made the memories. By the time he let himself in the place was empty exc
ept for the cleaning crew. He gave them a wave and climbed the stairs.

  Inside, the first thing he noticed were the lingering scents of her perfume. It rode the air like fading notes of a soft riff and her smiling face flitted cross his mind’s eye. What a night. He could still taste her kisses, feel the heat of her sheath surrounding him and hear the soft gasps she gave just before she came. Yes, he wanted her again and again.

  In the bedroom, he got out of his clothes and looked down at the tangled sheets. The clean smell of the shower they’d taken filled the room. Getting into bed, his mind kept replaying their lovemaking and he knew he’d never see his office the same way again. Every time he took a seat on the couch he was going to remember the impaled Tasha and her sapphire navel slowly rising and falling on his shaft until he thought the pleasure would make him lose his damn mind. More than likely it would be a while before he invited another woman up, if ever. Knowing that Tasha would eventually return to her big-money life and he to his once they got the team up and running wasn’t something he wanted to think about, but it was reality. She wasn’t the kind of lady that would be tied down, and there was nothing he’d be able to do to change that.

  * * *

  A few hours later, Tasha was having breakfast on the back deck when Monty came strolling out. He appeared far more awake and refreshed than a man deserved to be at such an early hour. However, she was physically exhausted and her mood was a somber, Miles Davis-kinda blue.

  “What time did you get in?” he asked, taking a seat and peering into her sleepy face.

  “Late,” was all she’d say. The last thing she needed was his teasing. Knowing she’d painted herself into a corner because of the pact she’d made with Drew was only eclipsed by the thought that Drew probably wasn’t sharing her morning-after angst. “Did you have a good time?”

  “Three on a match—oh yeah.”

  In spite of her mood, she laughed. “You are a mess.”

  “That omelet looks great. If you’re not going to eat it, pass it here.”

  Musing on Drew left her dawdling over her food, but Monty’s interest made her pull her plate closer. “Get your own. Carmen’s still in the kitchen.”

  “You’re awfully surly this morning, missy. What happened with you and Harry Heisman last night?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Tash?”

  Tasha knew if she revealed what she felt he’d laugh—that too was his job.

  He searched her face. After a long moment, he cocked his head and asked, “Have you messed around and fallen in love with the man after only one night in the sheets?”

  She refused to meet his eyes.

  Then he began laugh. It was soft at first, but it soon became so loud and boisterous he almost fell out of his chair. She wanted to dump her omelet on his head.

  Carmen came out to investigate the ruckus.

  Tasha told her. “Just ignore him, and don’t give him any of our food. His silly ass can starve for all I care.”

  Monty was having a good time falling out. A smiling Carmen retreated and left them alone.

  “It’s not funny, Monty.”

  “The hell it’s not! The Ice Princess of the Western World in love?”

  “It’s not like I planned it. It sort of just happened.” Tasha didn’t understand it herself. “And it’s more than just the sex. It’s—him.”

  “You’ve known the man what, two days?” The laughter continued.

  “Shut up,” she demanded, but she was halfway smiling herself. “This is crazy.”

  “No kidding. Have you told him?”

  “Of course not. We have to work together, remember?”

  “Then you need to get over this real quick.”

  “Wish I knew how.”

  He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Maybe it’s just an infatuation.”

  “Doesn’t feel that way.”

  Carmen returned with a hot omelet on a plate. Setting it down in front of Monty she took in the mock hostility on Tasha’s face and noted, “He’s too cute to starve.”

  Monty picked up his fork and dug in. “At least somebody around here loves me. Thank you, Ms. Carmen.”

  “You’re welcome, baby.”

  Tasha rolled her eyes.

  After Monty stopped laughing long enough to finish eating, he said, “As your best friend I should have some sage advice to offer, but I don’t.”

  “I know and it’s okay, I’ll figure it out.”

  “From everything I hear about love it’s supposed to make you happy, but you look miserable.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He pushed back from the table and stood. For a moment his eyes held hers. “You’re really in love?”

  “It’s the only explanation I can come up with. I have never wanted to know everything about a man before. Did you know that he designed that club of his?”

  “Really?”

  “He majored in architecture in college. You should see his office. He wants to open a school for kid musicians so they can learn to play jazz. He has dreams, Monty, and not any of them are tied to T-bills or the World Bank or any of the stuff you and I deal with. He’s refreshing.”

  “Then I wish you well with this, babe. I really do. You’re rich, beautiful and smart. You’ll figure it out.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Me, I’m going back to bed.”

  “See you later.”

  He nodded and exited.

  For the rest of the morning, Drew continued to haunt her. More than once she picked up the phone to call him, only to put it down and denounce herself as being a pitiful example of a worldly woman. Sleeping with him was supposed to come with memories but not memories and longing. As she’d told Monty, she wished she knew how to make what she felt for the quarterback go away so she could go back to being the woman she was before.

  Later that afternoon, Tasha was on her laptop searching for landscapers that could resurrect the Freighters’ sorry excuse for a playing field when she heard arguing downstairs. Concerned, she hurried down and followed the raised voices to the kitchen. There stood Carmen and Tony engaged in a silent standoff. At her entrance their heads spun simultaneously to her and she felt like a ten-year-old interrupting grown folks’ business. “Um. I just heard voices and wasn’t sure what was going on. Welcome back, Tony. How’d things go with the fleet?”

  He and Carmen recommenced staring each other down. “Fine. The auction house will send you an email.”

  “Okay. May I ask what the problem is here?”

  “Do you know how to cure a stubborn, hardheaded woman?”

  “Um…”

  “Look at this ring.” Without breaking eye contact, he held out a small black velvet box with a gorgeous sparkler mounted in the center.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Her assessment earned her a glare from Carmen.

  “Well, it is,” she echoed.

  Another glare.

  Tasha decide it was time to exit stage left. “I’m going to go back upstairs. No guns or knives, you two, okay?”

  They ignored her, so she left them to handle their business. Only when she was back upstairs did she allow herself to smile.

  An hour or so later, Carmen knocked on Tasha’s bedroom door.

  Tasha glanced up from the laptop. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Three men downstairs to see you.”

  That was puzzling. “Who are they?”

  “Names are Blount.”

  “Wade Blount?”

  “Yes.”

  “What the hell do they want?”

  Carmen shrugged. Tasha stood. She noted there was no diamond on Carmen’s left hand, so she assumed the two
were still going at it. Leaving thoughts of them behind, she went down to greet the Blounts. It crossed her mind that their visit gave her a legitimate reason to call Drew so he could come over and sit in on whatever this might turn out to be, but she decided against it. If she had to bust their balls she wanted them to know she didn’t need a man to back her up.

  CHAPTER 7

  The Blounts were seated in the conference room. When she entered all three stood, took one look at her and grinned slyly at each other like wolves sighting a fat sheep. Drew’s description that they resembled used-car salesmen was right on the money, at least for the two she assumed to be the Blount sons. Both wore shiny suits and shoes that had seen better days. She wasn’t sure what their father resembled—maybe an old rapper. He was dressed in a faded blue velour running suit along with white running shoes. The requisite gold chain hung around his neck.

  He greeted her by sticking out his hand. “Well, hello, pretty lady. I’m League Commissioner Wade Blount, Sr.”

  Overlooking the pretty lady part, she returned the shake and found his palm covered with sweat. She forced herself not to wipe the dampness on her skirt. “Nice to meet you.”

  “These are my sons.”

  The portly one with the receding hairline mimicked his father and stuck out his hand. “Name’s Wade Jr. Owner and GM of the South Bend Stars. Pleased to meet you.”

  She returned his shake. His hand was dry. She was relieved.

  “And I’m Kevin. Call me Kev. Owner and GM of the Fort Wayne Rockets.” Kev was rail-thin and sported a really bad toupee.

  The sons favored the father so much, she wondered if a mother had been involved with their birth or if they were simply clones from a lab.

  She gestured for them to retake their seats, but she made it a point to sit at the head of the table. In a business setting it was known as the power seat. Wade Sr. didn’t appear pleased by her choice but was polite enough or had sense enough not to protest. “What brings you gentlemen by without an appointment?”

  In response to her barely veiled opening shot, Kev’s eyes widened and he sent his father a hasty look, but she pretended not to notice.