Down to You (2 page)

Damn. That was shaping up to be quite a
diversion.

I smile into the group of faces riveted on
me. “Ladies, this is Jason. He’ll be entertaining you tonight.”

All eyes turn to Jason as he closes the door
and moves around me. I look at the girl that’s holding my shirt.
She’s perplexed. And for good reason.

“What do you mean, he’ll be entertaining us?”
she asks, turning her confused eyes on me.

I don’t answer her right away. I know she’ll
figure it out soon enough.

She looks over at Jason, trying to piece
together what just happened.

“Now, which one of you beautiful women is the
bride-to-be?” Jason asks.

I see it the instant understanding dawns. Her
eyes widen again and, even in the low light, I see her cheeks turn
red.

She looks back to me and frowns.

“If he’s the stripper, then who are you?”

“I’m Cash Davenport. I own the club.”

CHAPTER THREE- Olivia

I can’t help but stare, openmouthed, at the
owner. I fight the urge to look for a table to crawl under. I’ve
never been more mortified in all my life.

I hear the girls clucking over Jason, but it
barely penetrates my mind, my focus. Every other piece of gray
matter is concentrated squarely on the guy standing in front of
me.

And then I get angry.

“Why did you let me do that? Why didn’t you
say something or introduce yourself?”

He smiles.
Smiles
, dammit! It
registers for a second that it’s a stunning smile, but then my
humiliation returns and overshadows it completely.

“Why would I do that, when letting you
undress me was so much more fun?”

“Um, because it’s completely unprofessional
for one thing.”

“How is that? You ladies ordered a stripper.
Does it matter who I send?”

“That’s not the point. You were being
purposely deceptive.”

He chuckles.
Chuckles,
dammit! The
nerve. “I don’t remember agreeing to send you an
honest
stripper. Just a willing one.”

I clamp my lips shut. He’s infuriating.

Nonchalantly, as though he’s not standing in
front of me with no shirt on, he crosses his arms over his chest.
The action draws my attention to his perfectly rounded pecs and the
tattoo that covers one whole side. I can’t make out exactly what it
is, but part of it even reaches out and spreads over his left
shoulder, like long, jagged fingers.

He clears his throat and my eyes fly to his
face. He’s smiling even wider now and I feel my scowl roll into
place. I can’t think straight with him standing here like this.
He’s far too disconcerting with his shirt off.

“Don’t you think you should at least get
dressed?”

“Don’t you think you should at least give me
my shirt then?”

I look down and sure enough, clutched tightly
in my fisted hand, is his black t-shirt. Angrily, I toss it at him.
And he catches it.

Dammit!

The strange thing is, even as I seethe, I’m
not sure why I’m so mad. I just know that I am.

“You sure are full of fire! Maybe I should’ve
taken
your
shirt off instead,” he says as he pulls his tee
over his head.

“What difference would that have made?”

Other than it would have been about ten
times
more
embarrassing.

He stops and grins at me, a cocky sexy grin
that I don’t want to be affected by, but can’t seem to help myself.
“If I had, you sure as hell wouldn’t be
mad
right now.”

My mouth goes bone dry as a mental image of
that scene flickers in and out of my mind—him easing my shirt over
my head, his hands on my skin, his body pressed to mine, his lips
so close I can almost taste them. That’s all it takes to make me
forget my anger.

I’m staring at him with my mouth
open—again—as he tucks his shirt back in. When he’s finished, he
takes a step closer to me. I stand perfectly still. His grin dies
into a seductive curve of his lips that makes my knees feel funny.
I’m completely spellbound and embarrassingly turned on when he
bends to whisper in my ear.

“You’d better close those lips before I’m
tempted to kiss them and
really
give you something to be all
hot and bothered about.”

I suck in a breath. I’m shocked. But not by
his statement. By the fact that I really want him to do exactly
that, by the fact that it makes my stomach tighten just thinking
about it.

He leans back and looks down at me. I’m not
sure why, but I snap my lips shut.

And he notices.

Dammit!

I see disappointment flicker across his face.
And, perversely, that pleases me.

“Maybe next time then,” he says with a wink.
Clearing his throat, he steps back and looks to his left. “Ladies,”
he says, nodding to the other girls, girls who are paying him zero
attention as they watch Jason tease Shawna with his now-bare upper
body. He looks back at me and, in a decidedly Southern way, says,
“Ma’am.”

He nods once then turns, opens the door and
walks out, closing it quietly behind him.

Never before have I been so tempted to chase
someone.

********

I crack open my lids a tiny bit, fully
expecting to feel knives stabbing me in the head. But the bright,
early-September light pouring through the window isn’t painful at
all. It’s the strange case of the hangover that never was. And I’m
grateful.

What
is
painful, however, is
remembering the humiliation of the night before. It comes back to
me in a rush, as does the image of the gorgeous club owner, Cash. I
roll over and bury my face in the pillow as the details drift
through my mind—tall, strong body and perfect, handsome face. A
smile to die for.

Ohmigod, he was so effin’ hot!

Even now, I wish he’d kissed me. It’s
ridiculous, but it might’ve made the whole debacle a little
less…wasteful.

Chastising myself, I roll onto my back again
and stare at the ceiling. I’m smart enough to recognize when I’m
falling prone to my one true weakness. It’s for that reason
alone—because of the way my pulse speeds up when I think about his
dark eyes daring me to undress him; because of the way I feel all
warm when I think about his lips on mine—I
have to be
glad
I’ll never see him again. He’s the embodiment of the one thing in
life I need like a hole in the head—another bad-boy love
interest.

As always when I think of disastrous
relationships, I think of Gabe. Cash reminds me a lot of him.
Cocky, sexy, charming. Untamed. Rebellious.

Heartbreaker.

Gritting my teeth, I drag myself from between
the sheets and make my way to the bathroom. I push Gabe out of my
head. refuse to give that asshole one more second of my life.

After I’ve splashed enough cold water on my
face to feel partially human, I stumble my way toward the kitchen.
I pay little attention to the posh designer furnishings and
perfectly-placed pieces of art as I pass through the living room.
It’s been almost two weeks since my roommate bailed and I had to
move in with my rich cousin, Marissa. I’ve finally gotten used to
seeing how the other half lives.

Well, sort of,
I think as I stop to
look at the two thousand-dollar clock on the wall.

It’s nearly eleven. I’m a little irritated
with myself for sleeping away a large portion of my day off, so I’m
prickly and grumbly when I enter the kitchen. Seeing Marissa
sitting on the island with her long, bare legs crossed toward a guy
perched on a stool does nothing to help my disposition.

I stare at the back of wide, linen-clad
shoulders and a dark blond head. For half a second, I consider what
I’m wearing—boy shorts and a tank top—and what I look like—tousled
black hair, sleepy green eyes, and smeared mascara. I debate
heading straight back to my room, but that option is taken off the
table when Marissa speaks to me.

“There you are, Sleeping Beauty!” She smiles
warmly in my direction.

I’m immediately wary.

For starters, Marissa is never nice to me.
Ever. She is the triple-S trifecta—spoiled, snobby and snide. If
there had been
any
other option for obtaining a roof over my
head, I would’ve chosen it. Not that I’m not grateful. Because I
am. And I show that gratitude by paying my share of a rent that
Marissa doesn’t even pay (her father does) and by
not
strangling her in her sleep. I figure that’s pretty generous of
me.

“Good morning?” I say uncertainly, my voice
hoarse.

The broad shoulders in front of Marissa shift
and the dark blond head turns toward me. Sinfully dark brown eyes
stop me in my tracks. And steal my breath.

It’s Cash. The club owner from last
night.

I feel my mouth drop open as my stomach falls
through the floor. I’m surprised and embarrassed, but more than
anything, I’m overcome by how much more appealing he is in the
daylight. In a way, I guess I’d secretly thought my reaction to him
last night was a product of alcohol coupled with the fact that I
was stripping his clothes off him.

Obviously, neither had anything to do with
it.

“What are you doing here?” I ask in
confusion.

I see his brow wrinkle. “Pardon me?”

He glances at Marissa then back to me.

“Wait a minute. Nash, do you know her?”
Marissa asks, her warmth now curiously absent.

Nash? Nash, as in Marissa’s boyfriend?

I have no idea what to say. My fuzzy mind is
having trouble putting puzzle pieces into place.

“Not that I know of,” Cash/Nash says, his
expression blank.

Once I realize what’s going on, my confusion
and embarrassment give way to anger and indignation. If there’s one
thing I hate more than a cheater, it’s a liar. Liars disgust and
infuriate me.

Reflexively, I rein in my temper. It takes
little effort to remain calm now, the result of a lifetime of
swallowing my emotions. “Oh, is that right? Do you always so
conveniently forget the women who partially undress you?”

Something flashes in his eyes. Is
it…humor?

“Trust me, I think I’d remember something
like that.”

Marissa hops off the island and assumes a
belligerent stance, her hands fisted on her hips. “What the hell is
going on?”

I’ve never been one to stir up trouble
between couples. What they do and don’t tell each other is their
business. But this time it’s different. I don’t know why, but it
is.

Maybe it’s because she’s my cousin.

I tell myself that, but I know there’s no
love lost between Marissa and me. Another thought flies through my
head—one that says I’m upset about being so casually forgotten by
the guy I woke up thinking about—but I completely disregard it,
labeling it “ridiculous” and moving on.

First, I address Marissa. “Well
Nash
here showed up at Shawna’s bachelorette party last night trying to
pass himself off as a club owner named
Cash.
” Next, I turn
to the imposter in question. Try as I might, I can’t keep the
derision from my tone. “And you. Really? Cash and Nash? Don’t you
think you could’ve been a little more original? What are you,
four?”

I fully expect Marissa to throw a holy fit
and Cash/Nash to be immediately contrite. Or even to try and lie
his way out of what he’s done. But what I get is what I least
expect.

They both start laughing.

As I look on, confused, it seems only to
intensify their amusement. My anger rises accordingly.

It’s Cash/Nash who speaks first.

“I guess Marissa didn’t happen to mention I
have a twin brother, did she?”

CHAPTER FOUR- Nash

I watch the full gamut of emotions play
across this girl’s beautiful face. Confusion, anger, indignation,
pleasure, then confusion again. In the end, her features settle
into disbelief.

“You’re joking.”

“Not hardly. Who would bother to make up a
story like that?”

She’s still watching me with a dumbfounded
look. “So you’re Nash.”

I nod. “Correct.”

“And you have a twin brother named Cash.”

“Correct.”

“Cash and Nash.”

I shrug. “My mother had a thing for country
music.”

“And Cash owns that club, Dual.”

“Correct.”

“So, that makes you the lawyer.”

“Well, not technically. Not yet anyway. But,
yeah.”

“And I’m not being punked.”

I laugh. “No, you’re not being punked.”

She chews the inside of her lip as she
digests it all. I don’t think she has a clue how sexy and adorable
she is.

When it all settles in, she takes a deep
breath and asks, “Can I have a do-over?”

I grin. “Sure.”

A brilliant smile comes instantly to her lips
and she sticks out her hand. “You must be Nash, the boyfriend. I’m
Olivia, Marissa’s slightly dull cousin.”

I grin. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia,
Marissa’s slightly dull cousin.”

I doubt there’s one single dull thing about
you.

She nods her head in satisfaction and turns
to walk to the coffee pot. It’s all I can do not to watch her. I
have to
make
myself focus on the beautiful blond in front of
me. I’ve only ever looked at Marissa and seen an elegant,
statuesque, gorgeous woman. But this morning, I find myself wishing
she was a cute, rumpled, fiery brunette instead.

Shit! That’s not good!

CHAPTER FIVE- Olivia

“Ohmigod! You can’t be serious!” Shawna
mumbles around a mouthful of wedding cake.

I want to laugh at the crumbs flying from
between her lips. Coming with her to a cake tasting has been the
most fun, second only to heading up the bachelorette party.

“I wish I was joking, but I’m not. It was
horrible!” I feel my face flush in remembered embarrassment just
from
retelling
what had happened with Nash.