Tackled by Lisa Suzanne
CHAPTER 2
I never answered his question since we arrived at the Complex for our meeting and it sort of got pushed off. Someday I’ll tell him about my dream of interior design, but it doesn’t look like today is that day.
Calvin is gritting his teeth when we enter his office together. “You two want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” He’s fuming.
“It was my fault, sir,” I start. “I’m so sorry. I...well, um...My best friend’s bachelo—”
“Nothing happened,” Jack says, cutting me off.
“You made headlines, Jack. With someone who isn’t my daughter.” His scary glare turns on me. “What the fuck am I paying you for?”
Jack fields this one. “I saw the pictures. My publicist sent them this morning. It was innocent.”
Pictures?
What pictures?
Calvin looks at his computer while he taps his mouse then clicks a button on a remote. An image of his computer screen pops up on the wall beside us, the headline big and bold at the top of the article. New Aces Quarterback is already Making Trouble in Sin City.
“This shit doesn’t look innocent, Dalton,” Calvin hisses.
I stare at the headline, and my eyes move to the picture accompanying the article—a nice big image of Jack nuzzling my neck.
I close my eyes for a beat as I remember the feel of his scruff against the sensitive skin of my neck.
Why does that picture make that stupid ache jump right back between my legs? Ridiculous.
But it doesn’t matter since I’m about to lose my job. I won’t get to hang out with the hot quarterback who at once makes my blood boil and turns me on like nobody else ever has in my life. I hate him. I want him. I hate that I want him.
I try to come up with an excuse, but there just is no excusing what I did. We got a little closer than we should have, and it was wrong on all sorts of different levels.
“We were dancing. Nothing happened between us, and I didn’t make any trouble,” Jack says flatly. “Kate had an event scheduled before she took this position, and I told her I’d go with her. She kept an eye on me all night, and I didn’t leave in handcuffs, so leave her alone.”
Calvin raises a brow. “Leave her alone?” he hisses. “I’m the one who brought her into your home, and you two are out making headlines and taking pictures like...like this.” He shoves a finger in the direction of the wall. “When you’re engaged to my daughter.”
“I’d hardly call this piece of shit a headline,” Jack points out, nodding toward the article still displayed on the wall. He doesn’t mention Michelle. He squints a little at the wall, and his eyes widen for just a fraction of a beat before his expression smooths.
But I caught it. There’s something in that article he reacted to, and I want to know what it was. He was looking to the far left, and the image is on the far right. I scan the headline and the byline, but I can’t figure out what it was.
“You need to step into line, son.” Calvin clicks off the projector and throws the remote down on his desk. “You know what the consequences are if you don’t.”
Jack rolls his eyes, and holy shit he must have balls of frickin’ steel while I’m over here shaking in my panties.
It’s impressive, really.
“Yeah. You won’t play me. I get it. If you think for a second giving the ball to Fletcher over me is a smart idea, you’re not the shrewd businessman you claim to be.” Jack stands. “You want to win? You know what to do. And Kate stays. You both signed a contract. We’re done here.” He looks at me. “Let’s go.”
I stand, unsure whether I should do what he says or sit here and take the punishment from my boss. Jack flicks his neck, and that’s all it takes. I want to follow him.
And I also want to keep this job. “I’m so sorry,” I say to Calvin. “It was one misstep, and I promise you it won’t happen again.”
“I’m watching you both,” Calvin hisses as we exit his office. “You don’t get three strikes. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” My tone is soft as a little fear punctures my heart.
I follow Jack silently through the twisted halls of this building, and I draw in a deep breath of warm, dry, desert air once we’re back outside. We climb into his truck and he slams his door shut with an extreme amount of force.
“Motherfucker,” he mutters.
“Calvin?” I ask.
He shakes his head, and then he leans it back against the headrest and draws in a deep breath of his own before he slides his head to the side to look at me. He presses his lips together for a beat, and then he says, “No. Savannah Buck.”
My brows dip. “Who?”
“She was the byline on that article.”
“So?” I ask. “Who is she?”
“My brother’s ex-wife. My ex-girlfriend.” He fires up the engine but doesn’t pull out of his spot yet. “Michelle’s new best friend.” He blows out a long, frustrated breath.
I squint at him for a beat. “That’s a lot to process.”
“Yeah, well, she’s made the rounds,” he says dryly. “She’s a fucking leach and try as we might, we can’t seem to get rid of her. But guess who fucking loves her?”
“Michelle?”
“Bingo.” He shakes his head, and then he backs out of his space.
Backs out is a nice way of saying he screeches his tires and peels out and I’m gripping my purse in my lap with white knuckles as I fear for my life.
It strikes me in this moment the reason why he drives the way he does. He’s number one. Always. It’s ingrained in his very DNA to come in first, and clearly that extends to the way he drives. He has to make it up to that stoplight before everybody else. He has to gun it first off the line. He’s a winner through and through down to his very core, even behind the wheel of his truck.
“Calm your tits,” he says gruffly. “I’m a perfectly safe driver.”
“Calm my tits?” I ask. “Why are you bringing my tits into this?”
“It’s just a saying.” He glances over at my chest. “But your tits can enter any conversation they want to.”
My cheeks burn as I remember his mouth on the very tits he’s referring to. “Watch it, Dalton.”
He laughs and lifts his shoulders innocently, and I allow myself a quick glance at his profile. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, and his face seems just a little lighter as he teases me. What just went down in his boss’s office was beyond frustrating, particularly given who penned the article in question, and yet here we are in his car a few minutes later...laughing together.
The seed of my attraction to him seems to have put down some pretty thick roots that are getting ready to sprout into something new, and I’m suddenly a little terrified.
“We probably should’ve discussed this before our field trip to Office de Bennett, but what really happened last night?” I ask.
“Office de Bennett?” he repeats, and I giggle.
“Just answer the question.”
“You made the right call,” he mutters.
“About what?” I fist my purse with white knuckles again, but this time it’s to brace myself for what he’s about to say.
He glances over at me. “Going back to the table when you did.”
I keep my gaze carefully out the windshield. “Why’s that?”
“We would’ve been looking at very different pictures this morning if you hadn’t.”
My chest fills with tingles at his words and my stomach does a little flip at his insinuation.
“Thank you,” he says. “You saved my ass.”
Why are you marrying her?
“It seems like you might’ve saved mine, too.”
He shrugs. “You see a girl get into trouble, you do what you can.”
“How’d I get into trouble?”
He chuckles. “You decided the booth was a good place for a nap. You were half-in and half-out of it, so I got you out of there. You were pretty drunk, so I made you chug water and take some ibuprofen. I stayed in your room with you just to make sure you were okay.”
“What about Michelle?” I ask.
“What about her?”
“Wasn’t she wondering where her fiancé was all night?” I ask flatly.
“Doubtful. She’s in Los Angeles.” He grunts. “Oh, that reminds me. I need to fly to Denver. I have some shit to take care of there.”
“When are we going?” I ask lightly.
“Oh, right. You’re coming.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Sorry.”
He chuckles and glances over at me. “I can think of worse things than being stuck with you.”
“But no more headlines.” I feel like I’m on probation with Calvin, so we need to play it safe.
“No more headlines,” he agrees. “And no more viral memes. But we can still have some fun.”
I just have no idea what his definition of fun might be.
