Duke-ing It Out by Jami Albright

1

Duke

Iyank hard on the reins of my anger and frustration as I turn my rental car into the circle drive in front of the Vail, Colorado mountain lodge where my client, Sienna Ramsey, and her dad, Robert, are staying. This pair have been nothing but a pain in my ass since we signed the contract to work together a couple of months ago.

Sienna Ramsey is trouble with a capital T.

I stare at the house and shake my head. How someone so talented and gifted could jeopardize their tennis career like she’s done with this snowboarding stunt, I’ll never understand. I’d give my left nut just to be able to play one more down of football.

Okay, I wouldn’t give up my left nut, but the point is still the same.

Sienna is pissing away her career and the opportunity to be the best at a sport so few people can play well. It’s infuriating. My own desire to play at a high level aside, I’m in the business of getting athletes back to top performance, using a holistic body, mind, and soul approach. I have a 100 percent success rate, and this woman is ruining my average.

I pull to a stop before a huge log cabin with a raw stone chimney that extends up the two-story exterior and a porch running the length of the front of the house. Sienna’s a champion, and while the big tournaments have eluded her for the last couple of years, she’s still made her share of money. Also, she has endorsement deals that she could probably live on for the rest of her life. Which is one of the reasons I don’t believe she cares about her career. There’s no hunger there. She skates through life, taking nothing seriously.

Case in point, this stunt with the snowboard.

Enumerating her issues isn’t helping me simmer down, so I exit the car and ready for battle. The early December air sneaks down the neck of my jacket, causing a shiver that reaches all the way to my bones. There are twenty lightly snow-dusted steps leading to the porch. I know because I count them as I make my way to the front door, hoping it will help with my restraint.

It doesn’t. I’m loaded for bear, and that’s all there is to it.

I knock and wait for Robert to answer but am brought up short when Sienna pulls open the big wooden door. She’s gorgeous as ever, but her blonde hair doesn’t shine like usual, her posture isn’t quite as cocky, and there are lines of pain on her forehead. However, she still has the defiant lift of her chin that she’s greeted me with since our first meeting.

“Oh, goodie, reinforcements.” Her tone is as dry as a West Texas creek bed in the middle of August.

“Sienna.”

Moments tick by as she stares at me, then with a huge sigh, she steps aside. “You may as well come in.”

I step past her and nod. “Thank you.”

She closes the door and leads me into a massive den with floor to ceiling windows that showcase the mountains beyond. Overstuffed furniture centers around the biggest fireplace and hearth I’ve ever seen. I don’t miss how she winces with each shuffling step.

“That bad?”

“If I say yes, are you going to lecture me too?” She rubs at her tired eyes. “Because I’ve got to tell you, I’m pretty much at my limit today.”

I have a lecture as long as my arm cued up and ready to go, but because I’m not a monster and she’s clearly suffering, I keep it to myself—for now. “Where’s your dad?”

She waves toward the stairs. “Getting ready for a press conference.”

What? The hunched-over, limping woman before me has no business being in front of the cameras. Speaking of… “There isn’t any press outside.” Because of her wild child reputation, the press usually follows her everywhere.

“No, Dad made a deal with the media. They stay away from the property, and we answer all their questions.”

“With you?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, he tried, but I told him to shove it up his ass. So, he’s going alone. Thank God. I need five minutes without him in my face.”

For the first time, I notice a bruise on her chin. The blood in my veins turns to a block of ice. “Did he …?” The question hangs like a noose between us.

The confused expression on her face clears, and she chuckles. “I’d like to see him try.” She rubs long fingers over the blue spot. “No, that happened in the accident.” Her hand goes to the arm of the sofa, and she starts to lower herself into a sitting position.

“Wait. Let me see the damage.”

She sighs like I’ve asked her to give me her last remaining kidney. “Fine.”

I move behind her and raise her shirt. “Hold this.”

She complies and keeps the fabric out of my way. My fingers trace along an expanse of smooth skin with a tiny strip of a tan line. I gently examine a large knot on the right side of her spine at what would be her bra line … if she was wearing one.

“It’s just soft tissue damage. My spine is fine.” The defiance in her tone tells me she knows she screwed up.

“Mm-hmm.” I know that it’s not just soft tissue damage because her father emailed me the MRI results. She has ligament damage and has severely strained her trapezius muscle, leaving her swollen from the middle of her back to her neck on her right side.

I move one hand over the area, gently prodding and kneading the abused muscle, while my other hand holds her left hip stable. A soft exhalation escapes her lips, and she drops her head forward, moving it from side to side. A fierce jolt of lust fires through my system and nearly cuts me off at the knees.

What is happening?

Instinctively, my grip on her hip tightens, and without hesitation, she leans back into me. There’s no moaning or grinding, but it’s a thing, and my dick is proving it’s a very big thing.

A thing that has never happened before between us.

An exceedingly unprofessional thing.

We stay like that for several not at all unpleasant moments, then she stiffens.

“Gah, Duke, did you have onions for lunch?” She puts distance between us, lowers her shirt, and turns to face me with that defiant chin lift. “Dude, your breath is kickin’ like Jackie Chan. You might want to invest in some mouthwash.”

“My …” I bite back a laugh. I popped a mint before I came into the house, so I know she’s just trying to pick a fight. Under normal circumstances, I’d jab back, but she’s a client, and I’m a professional. I believe there’s always a right way and a wrong way to do things. But a few moments ago, my body didn’t seem to give a damn about my personal code of conduct or ethics. The problem is, feisty women like Sienna are my kryptonite. I usually protect myself by dating docile, sweet women, but I can’t deny that the less interested a woman is, the more I want her, which makes the lust surging through my bloodstream a problem.

She purses her lips and shakes her head. “Sorry, but the truth’s the truth.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” I twirl my finger. “Turn around and let me see your range of motion.” She complies, and it’s not good. “What’s your pain level?”

She shrugs, grimaces, and slowly sits. “Five or six.”

“Liar.”

The glare that lasers in on my face is lethal. “What do you want me to say, Duke? It hurts like hell.”

I mimic her shrug. “It’d be better than lying about it.” I sit across from her and rest my elbows on my thighs. “How did it happen?”

“I was—”

“Being a damn fool.” Robert Ramsey, Sienna’s father, strolls into the room dressed like he’s stepped off a GQ magazine cover. He makes his way to me and extends his hand. “Duke, thanks for flying in on such short notice.”

I stand and take his offered greeting. “It’s no inconvenience, Robert. She’s my client.” It’s a lie, it’s a huge hassle, and we both know it.

Sienna’s father slips his hand into his front slack’s pocket and gives his daughter a look full of censure. “It’s sure as hell been inconvenient for me to have to contact her agent and cancel all her endorsement appearances for the foreseeable future, since we can’t have her hobbling in like an eighty-year-old grandmother.”

I don’t give a shit about Sienna’s endorsements, but I do care about her injury. I look past him to Sienna. “What happened?”

“She—”

“I asked Sienna.” I guess Robert’s an okay guy, but I don’t like his management or coaching style.

The tennis player in question picks at the fringe of the afghan in her lap. “I was snowboarding, and my friends challenged me to a trick competition. There’s a course at the resort.” Another attempted shrug before she stops herself. “I fell on one of the jumps.”

“It was nothing so benign as that.” Robert jumps into the conversation. “She nearly broke her neck.” He assesses his daughter and shakes his head. “All because someone challenged you to do something.” His tone conveys that he thinks she may be the rashest, most immature person who ever lived. If I didn’t dislike him, I might agree.

For her part, Sienna only glares at the man who raised her.

“It doesn’t matter how it happened. What matters is getting her back to peak performance. That’s my job.”

The two break their scowling contest to turn mutual disapproving expressions on me. Robert breaks first. “Of course, Duke. We appreciate you coming all this way. What do we have to do to get this hardhead back on the court? We have the Australian Open in January.” His I’m a winner smile spreads across his face.

I return to my seat and shoot a look at Sienna’s pain-stricken face. “I’m sorry, Robert, but my recommendation is that she be out for at least three months.”

The man’s hands slam onto his hips. “Three months! No way in hell. The Australian Open is in five weeks. That’s how long you have to get her ready to play.”

My head’s shaking before he can finish. “Bob …” I deliberately call him that because he hates it. “I consulted her doctor, and it will be at least a couple weeks before the swelling goes down enough for anyone to be sure she won’t need surgery.”

“Surgery?” Robert yells at the same time Sienna shouts, “You talked to my doctor?”

I don’t answer either one of them but scowl at Bob. “You told me she signed off on me having access to her medical records.”

“Yes, well …”

Sienna stands in feeble increments. “You gave him access to my medical records?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer. She knows it’s true. “Unbelievable.”

I don’t know if Robert sees it, but the flash of grief that contorts his daughter’s beautiful face is heartbreaking.

The man does have the decency to look embarrassed. “I now see the error of my ways.”

“Really?” Sienna and I both ask.

“Yes, it was ill-advised, as was hiring you, Duke. It’s clear to me now that our objectives are not aligned.”

“Dad—”

“Thank you for coming all this way, but your services are no longer needed,” Bob barrels over Sienna.

“Dad, don’t I get a say in—”

“Look at her.” Robert ignores his daughter and points in her direction. “She’s a champion. A winner. An extraordinary high-performance athlete. She didn’t get to where she is by laying off for months at a time. She’s made of sterner stuff than that.”

“You’re unbelievable, Father.” She sinks enough disdain in the word “Father” to choke a horse.

I stand to my full height. “You’re making a huge mistake, Bob.”

The guy takes a step back. “Oh, you think you’re not replaceable. And it’s Robert.”

I glance at Sienna, who’s staring at the floor like she just lost her best friend, and something about that makes me furious on her behalf. I cross my arms over my chest. I’m well aware of how intimidating I look. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you treating your daughter like a child and not the intelligent—though infuriating—woman she is. You’re also putting her future health in danger.” I take a small step in his direction, and he retreats again. “I want to get her back to top performance, too. But I also want her to be able to put a shirt on by herself, or have the ability to pick up her babies, or do any number of normal activities.” I uncross my arms, and my hands go to my hips. “You know, quality of life stuff that’s more important than getting her back on the court on your timetable.”

“That’s the kind of soft, sentimental thinking that keeps people from reaching their full potential, Duke.” He mimics my hands-on-hips stance. “Sienna Ramsey is made for more than a normal life”

His accusation that I’m soft hits its mark. It takes all my willpower to continue to advocate for my client, instead of defending myself. “It’s not an insignificant injury, Bob. Can’t you see that?”

“She’s tough. She’ll battle back from this. Tell him, Sienna.”

When she doesn’t answer, we both look to where she was standing, but she’s gone.

“As you can see, Duke, you’ve upset my daughter. I think it’s time for you to leave.” He checks his phone. “I have to be leaving too.”

I lift my hands. “Fine.”

We make our way outside, where he offers me his hand. His motherfuckin’ hand. Is this guy for real? “Thank you. I’ll see that you’re paid for your time and travel.”

I ignore his hand. “Yeah, you will.”

We both descend from the porch and get into our vehicles. He immediately starts his engine and pulls away from the house.

My trembling hands and racing pulse won’t allow me to do more than turn on the car and stare out the front window. Like a dormant, forgotten volcano come to life, an old, toxic concoction of chaotic feelings threaten to rise up and own me.

They won’t, and haven’t since I was nine years old.

I control my emotions.

They don’t control me.

Ever.

I don’t lose my shit. I don’t pop off and say things I don’t mean. I certainly don’t let a smart-mouthed, blonde slip of a woman and her father cause me to act irrationally.

After long moments where I count to a hundred then back to zero, I’ve calmed down enough to operate a vehicle. I’m shaken by the loss of control, but under control enough to pull out of the circle drive, leaving the lodge and the whole mess behind me. “Good riddance.”

I don’t know when I’ve been this mad. And I honestly don’t know who I’m madder at—me for taking on a client with so much baggage, Robert for being such an unmitigated ass, or Sienna for leaving during a discussion about her life and not standing up for herself.

That’s the real problem. She won’t take control of her life and keeps abdicating responsibility to her father. It’s infuriating. I shove my fingers through my hair and say to the empty car, “Grow up, Sienna.”

“Hey! I resent that remark.”

My head jerks to the rearview mirror—while I have a mini heart attack—to see Sienna with mischief written all over her face staring back at me.

I slam on the brakes, throw the car in park, and wrench my body around to make sure I’m not hallucinating. “What the hell?”

She examines her cuticles like she didn’t just pop up like one of those creepy clown jack-in-the-box toys. “I thought I’d try my hand at normal.”

An ominously thrilling and slightly crazed sensation slithers down my spine, and I vaguely wonder if this is how Clyde felt right after Bonnie slid into his car. “This …I …You can’t—”

“Please.” There’s not a trace of mischief or nonchalance when she meets my eyes, only raw misery and the tiniest hint of hope.

I should turn around and take her back to the lodge. I should stay miles and miles away from this situation. I should. I should. I should.

But I won’t.

I have no idea what I’m doing. None.

The only thing I know for sure—this has shitshow written all over it.

I throw the car into drive and pull out onto the highway.