Fair Game (25 page)

She sat back to watch. If she’d been worried the girl might recognize her, forget it. The Snowflake didn’t spare a glance for anyone else in the bar, not even the pink ladies who regarded her outfit with awe.

She giggled at Kyle. Yuck. Taking the seat right next to him—not across, of course—her bare leg brushed his knee. Kyle slid her wine in front of her. She left a big, red lipstick mark on the edge of the glass. Josie wondered how much lipstick she’d leave on his . . .

Stretching back in her chair, the girl raised her arms to flip her long hair out from behind her. Her breasts thrust out, and the bottom of her tight sweater rode up. She pulled it down. Kyle’s eyes followed every move.

For the very first time, Kyle glanced at Josie, his grin feral. Some bizarre emotion rode through her like a tidal wave, up into her throat, hitting her so quickly, she felt choked with it. Her pulse pounded erratically, and her gaze seemed to glaze everything else over like a microscope lens, leaving only Kyle and Little Miss Fucking Snowflake in sharp focus.

If he touched the bitch, Josie wouldn’t be responsible for her own actions.

 

 

 

KISA had flounced into the bar sprinkled with a liberal dose of overwhelming perfume. She’d managed to catch a ride with him to and from the going-away lunch and finagled the seat next to his for the meal itself. Her thigh had rested against his most of the time. Kyle hadn’t wanted to issue the invitation for drinks, but he’d done it for the sake of the challenge.

The hotel bar danced with conversation, and Kisa’s breasts jiggled as if she were moving to music. He’d always figured them for the real thing. She laughed, low and husky, at something he said. That was another thing he figured about Kisa, her laugh got huskier for the effect she knew it had on a man. With Josie in his life, he wasn’t one of those men.

In the corner, Josie was doing a damn good job of pretending disinterest, yet her glance flitting about the room bounced back to his table again and again. She fidgeted with her beer glass as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands. She garnered her own measure of interest from a table of businessmen. Not that she gave them an iota of attention. Despite her apparent nonchalance, she focused on every touch Kisa put out, every laugh, every move the girl made.

He was driving her fucking crazy. He knew it, felt it pulse in the air. It turned him on like nothing ever had. She’d asked for it, gotten it, now she didn’t know what the hell to do with it.

The evening was a crapshoot for how it would play out, but one thing was for sure, he would somehow turn it to his advantage.

 

 

 

KYLE didn’t touch the girl; he didn’t have to. The bitch did all the touching for him. A flirty swipe of her fingers across the back of his hand. Leaning forward so he could see down her top, leaning back so he could admire her nipples. Her leg bouncing right next to his, stroking him with her calf. Each word out of her mouth was said with an enticing little pucker of her lips.

Josie burned. It couldn’t be jealousy. She’d never been jealous of anything or anyone. Maybe a bit with asshole Ian, but nothing this intense. She wanted to jump up, dash across the room, and smack the glass out of the girl’s hand. Rip her hair out. Josie’s chest was so tight, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. The thought of that woman putting her hands and her mouth on Kyle made Josie’s bile rise. A tremble started in the center of her chest and worked its way out.

When Kyle stood and held out his hand, Josie knew she was going to lose it. When the Snowflake took it and rose, she thought about murder and how she could hide the body. When they left, she wondered how she could hide two bodies. Ready to pour the last of the dregs into her glass, her hand clenched so tightly on the bottle, she was afraid she’d pulverize it back to the sand from which it was made.

Good God, she was jealous. She really was.

“Can I get you another beer?”

She hadn’t noticed the waitress approach, wasn’t aware she’d actually finished her whole glass. Another one? No way. She wouldn’t be responsible for what she might do. “Just a ginger ale, please.”

The waitress darted away, and it was all Josie could do to stay in her seat. She wanted to follow them. The need seethed in her. Whose car would they use? How fast would it take the bitch to get in his pants? God. When her ginger ale arrived, Josie grabbed it and gulped half of it down as if she were an alcoholic coming off a year-long dry spell.

Not once since college.
Ne-ver.
She’d learned her lesson. Jealousy was unknown. She hadn’t even remembered what it felt like. So why now? Why Kyle?

“Hey, little lady, you look lonely over here by yourself.”

She turned just her head.
Little lady?
The guy was middle-aged, but good looking.
Really
good-looking, with salt-and-pepper hair that had once been black, Richard Gere-bone structure, and a Mr. Universe body. He was tall, too, and she liked tall men.

He took a step back at whatever he saw in her eyes.

“Get,” she snarled, “lost.” Her mother would be appalled at her rudeness. In other circumstances, so would she. Especially since the guy was a hottie. But if he didn’t leave, she’d do something bad.

Because not only was she jealous, she was pissed. If the man wasn’t careful, she’d take it out on him. Holding up his hands in surrender, he backed away from the pending gunfight at the OK Corral. Smart dude. He slid down into his chair at a table with three equally handsome older guys. Guess hot men just naturally gravitated together or something. He leaned in, murmured something, and they all looked.

Josie narrowed her eyes to threatening slits.

The only thing that kept her at her table in her dark corner was the tiny higher functioning part of her clearly Neanderthal brain. She was overreacting. She’d asked for this herself. She didn’t care what Kyle did with Little Miss . . . Snowflake. She wouldn’t even
think
the adjective.

Her guts ached, and her temples throbbed, but God forbid she should need a man, depend on him, or allow herself to be hurt by one ever again. This was just some freaky thing brought on by her problems with Lydia, the confrontations with Ronson, screwing up on the dryer for the sand plant. And Ernie. God,
especially
Ernie.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, then quickly glanced around to make sure no one saw her talking to herself. The spoken words calmed her slightly. Yep, that’s what this was, a mini-breakdown. Short in duration. She’d be over it soon. At least she didn’t fear committing murder anymore.

But what the hell was taking Kyle so long? He was a fast shooter with her, for God’s sake. She couldn’t stand it. She would have left if she didn’t think he’d call her on it later. She wanted to get this over and done, then she’d go home and pass out. Emotions were freaking tiring.

She didn’t look at her watch, but she felt every second ticking by. The pink ladies chattered away, creating enough noise to cause an echo. She wanted to put her hands over her ears and shut it all out.

Then he stood in the bar’s entryway, his suit jacket buttoned, his tie perfect, not a hair out of place nor a lipstick smudge on his collar. She felt sick all over again. Making his way to her table, all the pink ladies’ eyes followed. So did the gaze of her
friend
and his cohorts.

Kyle pulled out the chair next to her. “Did you order me something? I’m parched.”

Asshole. She smiled sweetly. “What would you like, honey?”

He gave her a crooked half smile in return. “A beer. Like you had.”

So he had been watching her. A bit, anyway. But Jesus, why didn’t he just tell her what had occurred out there? She couldn’t stand not knowing. “What happened?”

He signaled the waitress. “After my beer.”

He was such a damn tease. “Fine. Whatever,” she snapped, hating the bitchiness in her tone. She modulated it. “I’m patient.” Like hell. “I can wait.”

Leaning back, folding his hands over his stomach, he gave the waitress his order, then glanced at Josie. “You want something?”

God, yes. “A Kahlua and cream, please.” Smooth, dark, rich. Something to soothe her, because her emotions sure as hell were ruling her head right now.

Why? She didn’t get it, despite her little pep talk to herself about how Ernie and everything was affecting her.

Kyle merely watched her. That set her on edge, too.

Their drinks arrived, though it wasn’t anywhere near fast enough. She sipped, savored, which made her think about how she savored his come. How Little Miss Fucking Snowflake probably savored it. Unless she was too fastidious to swallow. Hmm, no, not a possibility.

He slugged back a swallow of beer.

“So?” she said.

He sighed, tipped his head, met her gaze. “Do I get points for trying?”

Her heart started to beat faster. “Depends. Tell me the whole story.” Her voice cracked.

“She flirted.”

“Duh. I noticed.” She sipped her Kahlua to keep her hands busy.

“We went out to my car.”

“Saw that, too. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“She balked when I asked her to”—he dropped his voice to a murmur—“blow me.” His eyes glittered in the table’s candle-light.

“No way.”

“She wouldn’t do a thing.”

“I can’t believe it.” He hadn’t done it. He had not done it. She wanted to curl up, hug her knees, and breathe through the rush of relief. If she’d been standing, her legs would have collapsed.

He leaned in, forearm on the table, and lowered his voice once again. “I was so fucking hard with you watching us. My balls ached. I needed it bad.”

“But she must have seen your hard-on.” The sips of Kahlua were a lifeline. Otherwise her fidgeting would have given away her state of confusion.

“I kissed her by the car. She
knew
how horny I was.”

Eww. He kissed her. Josie felt sick. She wanted to scream. She thought about feeding his body parts through a wood chipper.

“She didn’t taste good. Not like you.” He laid a finger on her lips, traced them, then put the tip to his own mouth and licked off the vestiges of Kahlua. “She didn’t smell as good as you, either.”

She sucked in a breath, needed more. “Did you at least get her into the car?”

“No. I told her I needed some TLC. She laughed and told me to take care of it myself.”

“That bitch.” Oh God, she could have wept with sheer relief. “She’s a cock tease. She meant to get you all hot and bothered, then drop you flat.”

“Yeah.”

She could breathe. She could laugh. She wanted to dance. “I’m sorry. Poor baby.”

He took her hand in his, placed it palm down on his thigh, and forced her to rub the muscle. “My ego has been thrashed. I need to be taken care of.”

His hard-on was clearly visible as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. “I haven’t come since Monday night. I was saving it, and now I’m so fucking backed up, I ache.”

She eased off a micron. “You were saving it for Little Miss Snowflake?”

“I was saving it for
tonight
.”

There was a read-between-the-lines message in there. He was saving it for Josie. Then she sniffed. She could smell the bitch’s perfume on him. Leaning close, gazing into his eyes, she knew he could be lying. He might very well have let the woman suck him off, then gone to the men’s room and straightened everything.

Josie didn’t care. She wanted to believe. “Is it dark out yet?” The bar was windowless, all inside walls.

“Not quite,” he said.

“Is the parking lot crowded?”

“Lots of people coming and going.” He took her chin in his hand, held her. “But I thought of somewhere.”

He’d been thinking. About her. Not the Snowflake.

Her hand still in his, he rose, pulled her with him, then fished in his pocket for some bills to toss on the table. Her boot heels were too high, and she stumbled following him out. She was aware of all the pink ladies, watching everything, how he’d met with one woman, left with her, and now was back for seconds.

“Where are we going?” she asked when he had her in his car. His house? She would have gone without a fuss.

Instead, he took the airport ramp.

“Put your hand on my cock.”

He was huge. His body surged up as she stroked him through his pants. He couldn’t have come with the bitch, couldn’t be this hard if he had.

“It’s for you,” he said as if he could read her mind. “I didn’t even want her.” He reached across, lifted her chin. “Watching you watch us is what made me so fucking hot.”

At the moment, she didn’t care if he was lying. She pulled away as they came up to the short-term parking gate. There could be cameras.

He grabbed a ticket, threw it on the dash. “I thought about it all week. You sitting in a bar watching her hit on me.” He glanced in the rearview mirror as he negotiated a turn in the parking garage. Then he smiled. “It made me fucking nuts.”

He found a spot in a corner, a terminal entrance far behind them, a wall on his side, another in front, isolating them. “You owe me,” he whispered, “for doing what you wanted.”

“But you didn’t do it,” she answered right into that glittering blue gaze of his.

“Which is why you owe me even more.”

Then he leaned over the center console, gathered her hair in his hands and pulled her head back, taking her lips, kissing her hard, openmouthed. He tasted of beer and man. He didn’t taste of
her
, that bitch.

“Now suck me.” He never lifted his lips from hers.

She crawled down his chest, pushed aside his jacket and tie, yanked his shirt from his pants, and unzipped him. Come pearled on the tip of his cock. A man had never tasted better. He groaned, the sound vibrating against her ear. She kneaded his balls as she licked him, caressed him, stroked him, sucked him. He was full, hard, his orgasm building. She felt him shift and tipped her head to find his gaze pinning her, his fingers sunk into the headrest behind him.