Game, Set, Match (A Humorous Contemporary Romance) (Love Match) (5 page)

“Be serious for a minute. I need you to do this. Okay?” Exasperated, she added, “You have a man.”

Jessica must have seen the desperation on her face, because she acquiesced. “Yes, I do, but it’s always good to have a spare.” At Izzy’s scowl, she sighed. “All right, all right. You okay, Izzy?”

She shook her head. “No. No, I’m not okay.” Izzy tried to suck in a calm breath through gritted teeth. Now was not the time to lose control.

****

Jason tried to calm the adrenaline-heightened tremors in his hands.
 
Izzy Connors
. Judging by the way she’d stiffened in his arms, he shouldn’t have touched her. The hug had been an impulse, and now his body paid for it.

He remembered every nuance about her. Her smell, her voice, her eyes, the way she’d felt in his arms. She looked just like he remembered her, from her thick, ink-black hair to her bee-stung lips. His mouth did its best impression of the Sahara when he remembered those lips brushing against his. He coughed to clear his throat and his mind. He’d thought about her for years.
Tried to replace her. Now that she stood in front of him, his stomach felt as though he’d just sampled the finest scotch.

Watching her take long strides into the studio, he could tell this was her domain. She owned this space, standing tall and confident. Her face lit with pleasure when she walked by particular pieces.

He couldn’t tell if she still played tennis, but she still had the body of an athlete. Moved like one. No wasted movements, every muscle doing its part in the balletic walk. Her simple silk blouse and leather belt accented her tiny waist and full breasts, her jeans showed off long, muscular legs.

She moved ahead of him to show Aaron a portrait at the far end of the studio, giving him a spectacular view of her peach of an ass. He smiled as he recalled how she’d always referred to it as her African trademark.

Fifteen years, and she hadn’t changed. Not a bit. It took him several moments to realize she walked toward him again, lips moving. An unsteady smile passed her lips before she spoke again. “You see anything you like?”

Blood pumped in his ears as he thought his answer over. From the glower her manager shot in his direction, she wasn’t on the available list, which nixed telling her
exactly what he’d like. He indicated the portrait of the Masai woman on the wall. “I have a canvas of a Masai warrior. It’s related to this one right?”

Her eyes danced.
“Really? You have one of these canvases? We did a few of them in limited release mostly as marketing for the 
Kenya Homelands
 book. It’s one of my favorites.”

Then, as if she realized her proximity to him, she took a step back, and her smile faltered, replaced by a furrow on her brow.

Fifteen years, and she still could make him feel what he shouldn’t feel. 
She isn’t seventeen anymore. 
He shoved the thought aside. There was too much water under the bridge now. Far too late to think about what he should have done.

Aaron and Simon joined them at the photo of the Masai woman. Her lips quirked in response to Aaron’s question about various locales for the photos, and deep dimples peeked out of both cheeks. Her wide, almond-shaped eyes, framed by thick lashes, lit up when Aaron relayed a story about his trip on Safari in South Africa.

In that moment, he could have killed Aaron. Jason stole a glance at Simon, adding him to the death toll. Simon’s possessiveness was as defined as an Ansell Adams photo with all the back-off signals radiating off of him.

Jason had never been one to ignore a direct challenge for something he wanted. All he wanted was five minutes alone with her. Well, for what he wanted he’d need a lot longer than five minutes, but he’d start with that.

“Izzy, I’m so glad to have someone who knows me so well on these shoots.”

She blinked at him and nodded, but it wasn’t hard to notice the looks from Simon and Aaron. Aaron’s more curious, but there was no mistaking the hostility in Simon’s scowl.

Izzy’s expression changed, her unsteady smile tensed. The four of them stood there in a bad parody of 
No Exit
. They made several attempts at small talk, but none caught hold.

Finally, Aaron’s eyes darted back and forth between him and Simon, and he directed Simon back to the far side of the studio to presumably discuss the shoots.

When they were out of ear shot, Jason leaned into her, caught a mild scent of jasmine and vanilla that made him ache. “Are you two serious?”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

Jason inclined his head toward Simon and Aaron. “You and Mr. Slick.”

She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

He nodded, a little disappointed. “I’ll take that as a yes. Does he make you happy?” He couldn’t stop the question as it tripped off his tongue. Simon wasn’t the kind of guy he saw her with. 
And you are?

“What part of ‘It’s none of your business’ don’t you understand?”

He gave her his best grin. “I have this condition where I filter out what I don’t want to hear.”

She might not have wanted to, but the corners of her lips turned up in an exasperated semblance of a smile. Dimples greeted him.

Taking his chance, he opted for innocuous and asked, “Why don’t you come out to the house to play some tennis. I’ve got the courts available all day every day.”

He watched her reaction with interest. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted as she shook her head. On a breathless whisper she said, “I don’t play anymore.” He wondered if she’d meant to inject a double entendre into her tone.

Curiosity piqued. Not ready to give up, he pressed, eager to elicit another breathless response. “You don’t play anymore, or you don’t play with me? I don’t bite you know. You used to live for the game.” He grinned, sure he’d probably pushed too far.

Her lips twitched as she attempted to contain her smile. He knew her well. Knew how she’d respond. Or, at least, hoped he knew. He changed the subject to a more comfortable topic. “You said you did the Masai prints in limited release? Do you think I can order a couple?”

“Yeah, of course. I have some contact sheets in storage I can show you if you like. Then I’ll frame it up if you find a photo you want.”

“Lead the way.”

Her dark brows drew in. “What? Now?”

“Why put off until tomorrow...”

“Okay, this way.” She led him through the studio to a work area, turning back to call out to Simon and Aaron as she unlocked the door. “I’m just going to pull some contact sheets to show to Jason.”

The moment the door unlatched, Jason’s eyes scanned the clutter of canvases leaned up against the wall and shelves stacked with supplies and boxes of contact sheets. Framing pieces littered the walls in no
discernible order.

“Wow, this place is like a treasure trove.”

She muttered something noncommittal as she scanned the names on some of the boxes, running her fingers against each one before moving on to the next. Her fingers traced the lettering on each box as if she read by brail. “I know they’re around here somewhere…” Her voice trailed off as she scanned the top shelf. “There we go.”

He stepped to assist her as she pulled the edge of a box out by her fingertips, careful to avoid tipping it over. “Are you sure you don’t want any—”

Her gasp of shock and alarm propelled him into action. He rushed behind her and held the box still as it teetered between the brink of leveling back on the shelf or crashing on Izzy’s head.

He adjusted the box, but it didn’t stabilize, all he succeeded in doing was to shove Izzy further against the shelves. Not to mention, his semi erect cock ground into the small of her back.

Izzy groaned out a curse.

Jason’s body seconded her epithet. With every breath Izzy took, her body rubbed against his. Blood roared into his rapidly hardening cock. “Are you okay?” he asked as he inhaled her scent. He felt her shove against the bookshelf, but he didn’t budge.

“Let me go, Jason.” Her voice came out squeaky and breathless. It only intensified the blood rush in his head.

“I’m working on it, but if you want me to stabilize this thing,” he bit back a groan as she wiggled again.
 
And if you want to keep your clothes on…
 “I suggest you don’t move.”

He shoved the box back on the shelf and gave her more breathing room, but not much. He moved back three inches and placed his hands on her waist to steady her. “Are you okay?”

Izzy dragged in gulps of air, one hand clasped her hand at her midriff. “Yeah. I think so. I didn’t realize it was so heavy. Normally I—”

Her ramble cut off midstream. His guess, now that she was no longer in pain, she noticed the insistent penis pressed into the small of her back. He cleared his throat and tried for light and casual, but didn’t release her. “If you wanted to get me alone, Izzy, there are less dangerous ways to do it.”

She turned in his grasp to look at him and narrowed her eyes. “No one can be that egotistical.” She shrugged. “Besides, you asked for a print. I’m not going to turn down a potential sale.”

He bit back a hiss as she rubbed up against him—willed his hormones under control. Too bad they didn’t listen to the command. Need crashed through him, and his cock twitched against her belly. He knew the moment she felt the movement, as her eyes flickered to where they touched, then back to his face.

In her gaze, he recognized the dilated pupils, awareness and apprehension. “I prefer the term confident to egotistical.”

“Spoken like a jackass cursed with too much charm.”

His hands tightened on her waist in reflex. He knew he should release her, but he couldn’t do it. Not yet. He forced a smile on his lips, denying every instinct to rush. “Well, at least you think I have charm.”

She blinked at him several times, shook her head. “Nothing fazes you, does it?”

His eyes fixated on her full lips, her pretty pink tongue peeking out to moisten her lower lip. On a groan, he lowered his head, watched for a reaction. Her full breasts rubbed against his suit as she dragged in ragged breaths. Commingling their breaths, he tipped her head up to look in her eyes. “Have you ever thought about me in all these years?”

She cleared her throat as her body leaned imperceptibly toward him. Before Izzy could answer, the woman with the bright pink hair poked her head into the storage room. “
Iz, I’ve got the supplier for the frames on the phone. There’s an emergency with your next shipment.”

Jason watched as her gaze flicked to her assistant, then to him. “I—ah—need to take that.” She extricated herself from his grip and rushed out.

She was lying. She’d always had that look of panic on her face when she lied. He knew a rescue when he saw one. He followed her out to join Simon and Aaron.

He didn’t see her again before he left, but he’d managed to get her cell phone number from the wacky receptionist.

He told himself all he wanted was to apologize to her. To explain why he’d never gone back for her. But even as he completed the thought, he knew it was a lie. He wanted a whole lot more from Izzy Connors.

Chapter
Four

An eerie luminescent moon hung low over the ocean as Jason slammed ball after ball over the net. He might not be able to run any balls down or serve yet, but at least he could hit some balls over the net. He needed this. Screw the fact he couldn’t take a step without pain. He could hit.

It beat lying in bed and thinking about the state of his career. It beat thinking about how he could pull off a comeback. It beat lying in bed thinking about Izzy Connors. Of all the photographers in
all the world.

One touch of her soft chocolate skin, and he couldn’t get her out of his head.
Her scent, her touch, her remembered taste. He needed his head in the game. Shit, it had been a long time since a sport magazine had wanted to do a feature on him, let alone 
Sports Illustrated
. He couldn’t have chosen better if he’d picked the photographer himself.

He just needed to get her out of his head. If only—

“Jason, baby, are you down there?” A woman’s soft voice trailed down to him from the balcony.

Shit, Delilah
. Awake and attention hungry. She wore one of his button down shirts as she padded down the stairs to the courts.

He’d never cursed their friends-with-benefits arrangement more than he did now. As a friend, he couldn’t throw her out. But neither could he take the
 
benefits
 she’d offered. “Hey Delilah, I see you’re awake.”

Her lips lifted in a sleepy smile. “I told you I never should have had so much wine.
Especially red. Puts me out.” She gestured to his shirt, the corner of her lip tugged up. “I hope you don’t mind. I had to find something to wear out here since it’s a little chilly.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the clothes you wore over here?”

She angled her head to give him a smirk. Her hips sashayed from left to right as she sauntered toward him, careful to avoid the balls from the ball machine. “Well, I went upstairs to seduce you once I woke up, and you weren’t there. I’d already taken all my clothes off.”