Lip Service - GOOGLE Read online

“Hey, I’m not proud of what I did. But I know the rules prohibiting agents from bribing potential clients, which is what you were clearly trying to do when you gave Chad that fancy phone.”

  I spot the phone where I kicked it. “Pfft. It’s not that expensive. But again, not my phone. I don’t know who gave Chad that phone but it wasn’t me.”

  She frowns. “He said it was an anonymous gift and I assumed... Oh!” She bites her lip as her eyes light with realization. “Maybe it’s another agent and you’ve got some competition.”

  “Some unethical competition. Because as you just noted, agents are prohibited from giving gifts to potential clients. Another reason why Chad should sign with me and not someone else, don’t you think?”

  Her mouth flattens into a thin line. “No I don’t think. I don’t think Chad should sign with any agent. He should stay in college, not risk his health and his future by going pro, at least not before he earns a degree.”

  Ah. So that’s what all her phone calls and Chad’s sudden concerns were all about. I study her for a moment, then I run a hand through my hair. She might be a whacko but she is also the sister of one of my potential clients, so I need to get this crazy situation under control. “Look, I have breakfast. It’s cold, but why don’t we sit down, have something to eat, and talk about what’s going on.”

  Her expression suddenly turns to one of outrage. “I’m not eating the breakfast that Amy prepared.”

  “Amy—?” Realization dawns. Amy. The name rings a bell now. The name of the blonde who’d so recently warmed my bed.

  “I know I’m going to regret even asking this question, but how the hell do you know Amy? And what does she have to do with your brother and the fact I’m going to make him a star?”

  “She’s just further proof why I don’t trust you. And I told you, Chad can be a star after he finishes college.”

  “With his talent, he doesn’t need a degree.”

  “That’s not for you to decide.”

  “The hell it isn’t. Your brother was born with a gift, and I was born with the gift of giving credence to his gift.”

  “I know how this works,” she scoffs and tosses a flustered hand through the streak of pink highlights in her hair. “You promise him the world, but nothing is ever guaranteed. He could get hurt during training and never actually play.”

  “It’s an obvious risk, yes, but it’s a risk he has to take. Your brother is going to be the greatest quarterback in the League. There is a small window of time open for him. The longer he waits to play, the less successful he’s going to be. Talk about no guarantees in life. He could get hurt walking down the street, lose his scholarship and never have a shot at anything. Right now he has a chance to fulfill his dreams and make a ton of money in the process. Not many people get that chance. He can always finish college later. Don’t you want what’s best for your brother?”

  “Of course I do, you bastard. It’s why I’m here.”

  “You’re not a pleasant person.”

  “Pot meet kettle.”

  “Pot came to kettle’s door and hit him with a phone. But I have to admit, the memory is actually starting to turn me on more than piss me off. Have any more pent up aggression you want to get out? Because I can think of a few things that would be far more pleasurable for both of us.”

  “I’m sorry,” she coos, mocking me. “But since I’m obviously not your type, let’s not waste our time.”

  “You have no idea what my type is.”

  “Amy. Amy is your type. Not a fat chick with pink highlights, piercings, and tattoos.”

  I scowl. “Fat?” I look her up and down, taking in every curve. Sexy yes, but not fat. “You’re not fat.” I shake my head.

  She snorts.

  I narrow my eyes, for some reason, determined to convince her of my sincerity. She’s much shorter than me, so I have to crouch to meet her at eye-level. She’s right about one thing, she’s definitely not my usual type.

  But maybe I could use a new type. I tilt my head slightly.

  “You’re gorgeous. Crazy, yes, but gorgeous and your body rocks.” I can’t help but give her the once over again. “Plus, Amy’s gone. You’re still here, despite trying to do me bodily harm. What does that tell you about my type?”

  She averts her eyes before finally murmuring, “That you’re a sadist.”

  “Maybe if you’re the one holding the crop. What do you say? I’ve got one you can try out.”

  She makes a sound like she’s holding in a scream.

  I’m not going to lie, this banter is incredibly entertaining. There’s something about this girl that just sets me off, in more ways than one.

  “You think you’re funny.” She steps up and points a finger at my chest, which I quickly grab before she can poke me.

  “I didn’t make it this far in life by being a—”

  Violently, she pulls her finger out of my grip. “You have no regard for others, so how the hell am I supposed to trust you with my brother?” She pauses as if she’s waiting for me to say something, to say anything, but for once I’m content to let her spiel her bullshit.

  “I came here on a mission. To get you to talk to me. But running into that poor girl downstairs, who was in hysterics as she stumbled out of the elevator, that enraged me. And that’s why I threw the phone instead of handing it to you. Because I wanted to kick your ass, for that crying girl downstairs and for every other girl you’ve ever been a complete dick to.”

  “Because men have been dicks to you?”

  “Yes! You know the only man who hasn’t been a dick to me? My brother.” She paces away from me. I’m watching her carefully in case she decides to pick up something and fling it at my head, when suddenly her shoulders slump. Looking as if she can barely stand anymore, she sits on my couch and drops her face in her hands. “I just don’t like this,” she groans. “I don’t like the idea of my brother foregoing college for this pro football bullshit. He can get hurt, be paralyzed!”

  I sit beside her and place a hand on her shoulder. “Look, I understand your concerns. But your brother has talent, and this is his shot at making it big. It’s not tomorrow, or in a few years. It is now.”

  “But what if it’s a mistake? What if it ruins his future? Sure football helped him with college, but he’s so much more than just a football player.”

  Every drop of concern for her brother is genuine. This isn’t about her, it’s about someone she loves. I haven’t run across someone so selfless in a long time. I can’t just push away and ignore her concerns. According to Trish, this woman has substantial influence on her brother. The promise of fame and money obviously isn’t swaying her, so I need to do my job and find out what it’s going to take to seal this deal. “Look, you don’t want to eat breakfast, fine. Let’s go get lunch or something, and I’ll explain why I think this is best for your brother.”

  She hesitates, but the fear and animosity that had been radiating from her in spades seems to be dwindling.

  “This could change Chad’s life in the best way,” I press. “This opportunity is huge, and I think you at least owe it to your brother to hear me out.”

  She bites her lip, then finally nods. “Okay, we’ll talk. But lunch has to be within walking distance because I rode my motorcycle.”

  “I don’t know why that surprises me.” Nothing should surprise me when it comes to her. “It’s okay though, I can drive.”

  “Let me guess,” she says with a smirk. “You drive a Porsche?”

  I can’t help but crack a wicked grin. “A Cayman.”

  She smiles tightly. “We’re walking.”

  Chapter Three

  Dani

  Hunter Kiss lifts his hand off my shoulder and stands, and suddenly I’m able to breathe again. He was sitting so close to me in just a towel, all that bare skin and rippling muscle on display. I swear at one point I imagined myself licking his perfect abs. Which is fine. I mean, I am a warm-blooded female with needs and he is damn fine. And his co
ck...

  I can't stop thinking about how large he was.

  Large and getting larger.

  God, I need to get laid. But not by Hunter. No way.

  “I just need to get dressed and then we’ll be set.” He cocks a brow. “Unless you’d rather undress and we can talk here. Afterward.”

  That damn bastard. He knows he’s getting to me.

  I suck in a breath at the thought of all that could occur in getting to afterward, but force myself to scowl. I will not give him the satisfaction of knowing how utterly fantastic I find his body. I can't let him know how much he turns me on.

  He laughs. “No? Okay, be right back.”

  He turns and disappears into what I presume is his bedroom. Stay strong, I remind myself, trying hard not to remember the feel of his body pressed against mine, and definitely not imagining following him into his room. Deep breaths. I’m not here for me.

  Chad, think of Chad.

  And sure enough, the mad desire I was feeling for Hunter eases. Curiosity takes its place.

  For the first time, I’m alone and because I’m not distracted by sparring with him, I’m able to better take in my surroundings. His penthouse is right out of a modern design magazine, with high-end finishes in every direction.

  The place is kept in pristine condition, but I presume that’s due to a well-paid staff. Or perhaps spending very little time at home. Harsh sunlight is kept at bay with shaded floor-to-ceiling windows that line the entirety of the walls.

  God this place is like a fucking museum. I stare at what might be a chair, but might also be a statue, afraid to sit. The couch has too much of Hunter’s delicious soapy smell all over it, so can’t sit there. I need to stay strong and focused.

  I pace around, just checking things out. To the right is—yep, it’s his bedroom with a huge bed with a light grey duvet—and to the left of that is a large seating area with what I can only describe as a big ass fucking TV suspended from the wall. I bet he probably fills this place up on game nights with his buddies.

  Beyond that is a white dining table with light wooden accents that compliment the sleek grey-toned floors. The kitchen glistens with a dull whiteness that’s still somehow alluring. A laptop sits on the counter.

  He steps out of the bedroom and I meet his gaze. He’s now wearing a perfectly ironed and well-fitted suit with a bright pink tie. I wonder if he purposely picked the color to match my hair.

  He glances at his laptop, screen blank, and is it my imagination or does he look at me approvingly? Then he steps past me and opens the door, gesturing with his hand. “Ladies first.”

  It takes no time to reach the glass-trimmed elevator, the same elevator Amy, his girl-of-the-night, had run out of, slamming into me in the lobby. She’d been hysterical, and I’d asked if she was okay, and she’d told me she definitely wasn’t okay and who the bastard responsible for that was.

  That same bastard now reaches forward to press the elevator button, and I get a good whiff of his scent again; less soap now, and more a potent combination of sandalwood and apples.

  Dreamy. Just downright dreamy. I can’t help but close my eyes as I inhale.

  I shake my head quickly. No, there will be none of that. It doesn’t matter that he’s handsome and cocky in the most irresistible way. It doesn’t matter that he smells good and is obviously rich. All that matters is Chad, and what’s best for his future, and unless Hunter Kiss can convince me that going pro before he graduates college is it, he and I have only just begun to battle.

  Remembering that I’d been the one to literally throw the opening salvo, I mentally wince. I glance over at him. There’s a slight, darkening bruise at the edge of his left eye. I tell myself I already apologized numerous times, but I really want to apologize again. The only thing that stops me is the knowledge I can’t show weakness, not where Chad is concerned.

  The elevator flashes open. We’re both silent as we enter the boxed space. When the doors close, we’re left staring at ourselves in the mirrored doors. My eyes drift to the side, taking in the sight that is him. Underneath the harsh elevator lights, his jawline is even more refined, and seemingly not a single damn hair is out of place. His skin is flawless, and he’s built with just the right amount of muscle and leanness.

  His eyes find mine in the mirror, catching me in the act.

  I clear my throat. “This is a very nice complex.”

  “Are you hitting on me again?” he smirks.

  “Wh-what? I never hit on you!” He is so annoyingly arrogant.

  “No? I seem to remember you getting me out of my towel.”

  “You—I mean, that wasn’t my fault…” I feel myself blushing. How does he do it? He’s so arrogant, but so damn charming at the same time. I hate feeling so flustered around him. Get it together, you have to keep the upper hand...if not for yourself then for Chad.

  He shrugs and purses his sweet, pretty lips. “It’s okay. I kind of liked how your eyes devoured me when I was naked. If you want me to shed my suit, no need to hit me; just ask.”

  “Oh my God, full of yourself much?” I roll my eyes and shake my head. On the outside, I try to remain unmoved. On the inside, I’m a bundle of guilt and wanton urges. I decide to focus on the guilt and thus am unable to keep my apology at bay any longer. “Again, I really am sorry for hurting you. I feel terrible about it.”

  He looks to me with something stirring in his eyes.

  “Yeah?” Suddenly, he presses the stop button and the elevator jerks as we come to a sudden halt. “I know how you can make it up to me.”

  “What are you doing?” I swallow a nervous lump in my throat.

  “Showing you how you can make it up to me. You ever heard of seven minutes in heaven?”

  “No,” I lie.

  He looks at me chidingly but plays along. “It’s a stupid game where teenagers throw two hornballs into a closet together and lock their asses up for seven minutes with the goal of sexual fireworks exploding. Usually all that happens is awkward breathing, and then everyone lies and says they hit whatever base they think sounds cool.”

  “We’re not twelve,” I feel the need to point out, but I can’t discern if he’s being serious or not.

  “And something tells me I won’t need seven minutes to hit all your bases.” He bites his lower lip. Sweet Jesus, why do I find this—why do I find him—so damn sexy right now? “I only need sixty seconds to make you scream.”

  I just about melt into the damn floor, feeling as if my entire being could turn into a pile of goo. This is not who I am. I am a strong, independent woman and I will not melt for anyone.

  My guard goes up. “You can’t handle me,” I say, trying to sound strong. I cannot show him that he’s getting to me. I glare at him, hoping he’s buying the act.

  He takes a measured step toward me. His eyes lock with mine. My mind flashes to his naked body. His rock hard—with rippling abs and that sexy vee that most men can’t achieve—body.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” he whispers into my ear, causing my entire body to tingle with anticipation.

  Damn, he called my bluff. He leans a little closer. His wonderful scent hits me.

  And I melt. For a moment, I forget where I am or who I'm with. I forget about Chad. Instead, I remember how Hunter looked naked. How he swelled while I was looking at him.

  I remember my needs, needs I've been neglecting for far too long.

  Before I know it, I’m trembling and breathing hard, and I actually tilt my head back and close my eyes in preparation for his kiss. I can no longer fight my attraction to him, and with him so close, it was only a matter of time anyway.

  My eyes pop open when he bursts out laughing. “I’m just fucking with you.”

  I’m not proud of what happens next. It’s instinct or more likely the fact that I’m horrified that I fell for his game. I’m itching to slap him but somehow I control that tendency and…

  * * *

  “I don’t have much of an appetite,�
�� he grumbles as we walk down the busy early sidewalk. He rubs his ear, which I squeezed quite hard moments before, and glances at me with a frown. “You really ought to see someone about your anger issues.”

  “Don’t be such a baby,” I reply. Despite the fact that I pinched his ear like some curmudgeonly aunt, I can’t help but feel he’s laying it on a little thick. Still, he might be right. I have been so angry lately. Angry at my dad. Angry at myself for my fears about Chad. Even angry at Chad, which makes no sense. When I feel the sting of unshed tears, I blink quickly.

  Then I recognize the man and woman walking toward us.

  “Shit,” I exclaim and try to duck for cover, but it’s too late.

  In front of me, Taylor Ballard smirks, and my heart sinks.

  Hunter glances at me and then at Taylor, and when he looks back at me, understanding seems to light his eyes. He throws one arm around my neck and pulls me in close, holding me safe and secure as we pace closer and closer to my ex and his new wife. Just as we’re about to pass them, Hunter plants a soft kiss against the side of my head, and I let out a forced grin of happiness. When Taylor’s wife looks at Hunter admiringly, I feel my grin become more genuine.

  Taylor frowns and then just as soon as he appeared, he’s gone. I’m met with equal parts relief and sadness, relief because at least that douchebag will mistakenly believe I’m happy, and sadness because I’m obviously still bothered by the breakup—or rather, the reason for the breakup—no matter how long ago it was.

  But I hate showing emotions, especially to someone like Hunter, so I break away from his touch. “Um…Thanks for that.”

  “No problem.” He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks, playing the part of the cool guy. “He was an ex?”

  “He’s in the past.” I bow my head. “And that’s all that matters.”

  He just studies me, like he’s thinking before speaking for once.

  “What?” I groan.

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head with a light chuckle. “It’s just nice to know that somewhere deep down in the vast reaches of your dark soul, you have a heart.”