Losing to Win (17 page)

 

 

“O
h my God, oh my God, oh my God!” I moaned in ecstasy. “That is perfect. You have the most magical hands!” The masseur dug into the knots in my shoulders and worked out the tension that had settled there for God knew how long. Whatever magical thing he had done with hot stones and essential oils had to be illegal. His thumbs ran down my spine ensuring the last of the tension was released there.

“Okay, Miss Wayne, you're all done.” He draped the towel back over me and I slid bonelessly off the edge of the table. Yes, I was done. Or redone, in this case. I felt like a brand-new woman. Last night, despite all of our big plans, Mal and I had pulled into the portico of the Ritz Carlton in New Orleans and given in to exhaustion. We'd showered, changed clothes, had room service delivered, and were asleep before ten p.m. Very sexy.

This morning, after a sold nine hours of the best sleep I could remember in a long time, he got up early to go work out and I headed down to the spa. For the past ninety minutes, I had been buffed, scrubbed, polished, and buttered up one side and down the other. One last trip to the salon for a mani/pedi and to have my hair revived and I was ready to take on the world. Amazing what a little maintenance could do for a woman.

I dashed up to the room to change clothes and grab my purse before heading out to shop Magazine Street. I sent a text to Mal to let him know where I was. He said to text him back when I started trying on things and he'd come over to help. Ha! I just bet he would.

I was trying very hard not to read a lot into whatever was going on between me and Mal. At some point, we'd moved beyond the “sex only” to this interesting limbo we were in now. I wasn't complaining. It was quite a nice place to be. Here all was good, all was fun, even if I was pretty damn sure it was temporary. I wasn't going to think past the moment. For once I wasn't looking back or worrying about what came next. The here and now was awesome. With a smile, I texted him back with the name of the store I was stopping in first.

Stepping into the trendy boutique, I circled the floor twice and then picked out two dresses and headed back to the dressing room. Zipping into the first one, I was surprised to find the dress was way too big for me. The saleswoman knocked on the door. “How are we doing in there?”

Why do salespeople say “we,” as if trying on clothes was a group effort? With a smile, I swung open the door and stepped out. “I suspect I no longer know what size I wear,” I confessed while grasping the extra fabric billowing around me.

She took one look at me and laughed. “That dress is a sixteen; you're at least two sizes smaller. Have you not tried on clothes in a while? Lost weight recently?”

“Something like that,” I muttered.

She took a closer at my face. “Hey, you're that girl from
Losing to Win
, aren't you?”

“Um, no—I just look like her,” I denied. I was not in the mood to be “that girl from
Losing to Win
” right now.

“Cari, you back there?” Mal's voice boomed out from the front of the store. I peeked over the door of the dressing room. There he was, all six foot four inches of chocolately gorgeousness. Just by entering the room, he owned it. He was in black jeans and a silk-blend T-shirt in light blue. He had that whole “I look good and I know it” vibe working for him. I suddenly regretted falling asleep so early last night. The things that boy and I could do to each other. Whew!

“Hey, Mr. Knight. You're looking sexy today.” I infused my voice with enough suggestiveness that he could guess my thoughts.

His answering grin lit up his whole face. “Hey yourself.”

The saleslady looked at him and back at me and raised a brow. We'd pretty much given ourselves away. Ah well, at least no cameras were following us. I shrugged. “Busted. I am that girl. He is that guy. We're playing hooky.”

“Well, I love the show. You two are so much fun to watch. Are you back together?” she asked excitedly.

He and I exchanged glances. “No comment,” I responded in a deliberately neutral tone.

“That's fair enough. By the way, you both look great. Carissa, let me get you a size 10.” She almost skipped back out front, she was so thrilled. “Your friend is in the first room on the left,” she told Mal, giving him an appreciative once-over.

He strolled back. “Look at you, all pretty, relaxed, and half dressed.” He inched closer.

I snickered and put a hand up. “Do not start anything up in here, Blue Streak. We've got a perfectly lovely bed and an air-conditioned room waiting for whatever shenanigans you can dream up.”

“Whatever I can dream up? 'Cuz you know, woman, I have an awesome creative streak.”

“Don't you, though? And I say amen to that,” I agreed as the saleswoman came back with at least ten dresses over her arm.

She held out a cute short dress in teal green with an embellished neckline that plunged before the material fell away to stop a few inches above the knee. Simple but elegant with a little bling. I looked at it suspiciously. “It looks small.”

“It's an eight, I think it'll fit.”

The last dress I'd bought was a size 16 or an 18. I had lost a lot of weight, but half my size? I doubted it.

“Try it on, Ris,” Mal said.

I shrugged and took it into the dressing room. I pulled it over my head and it fell into place, no problem. Wow. I twirled back to look in the mirror. Now I needed a better bra, but overall? I looked damn good.

“We're going to need some help. What was your name?” Mal asked the sales clerk.

“I'm Heather.” She smiled extra wide and batted her heavily masacaraed baby blues.

Of course she was. Perky blondes who stared at Mal with the worship eyes were always Heather or Mandy or some such.

“Heather, she's going to need some underthings, some shoes, and some accessories. Can you help us out?”

“We don't have everything she needs here, but we partner with the lingerie shop across the street. I can go get some stuff. Size 36C?”

“38D,” Mal and I said at the same time. I rolled my eyes at him.

Heather handed me the other dresses. “You might like these too. I'll also get you some jeans and a few other things that might work.” She took off almost running. Heather might look like a lightweight, but she was no dummy. She smelled the potential for a huge sale.

“Why am I buying all this stuff?” I asked him. My plan had been to get a pair of jeans and a party dress and call it a day.

“Why not?” he reasoned with a lift and drop of one shoulder. “I know you're sick of the workout gear and yoga separates. You might as well get a few things while we're here. Not that you'll have it on for long.”

I shook my head at him while secretly looking forward to it. “Behave.”

“I haven't stepped in there with you, have I?” He flashed me an innocent look. “I think I'm displaying massive amounts of behavioral goodness.”

“You're the epic soul of restraint,” I cosigned while trying on a red strapless dress. Tentatively, I stepped out in front of the three-way mirror. “Not bad.”

“Sure. In your world, does ‘not bad' mean ‘drop-dead gorgeous'?” He rose up from the dainty sofa where he had been sitting and started toward me. The heated look in his eyes told me exactly what he had in mind. If I let him (and I was seriously considering it), he would have this dress off me and his hands all over me in two minutes flat. Before he could follow through, the store door flew open and Heather hurried in with two women trailing her. One had her hands full of lacy things and the other was juggling six shoeboxes.

“Size 7 shoe?” Heather asked.

“Yes.” I smiled as she slid the top off of a box and handed me a silver sandal with crystal embellished straps and a chain-link ankle wrap. The heel was high and narrow. I raised a brow at the overtly sexy, purely decorative shoe and wondered where the hell I was wearing those in Belle Haven. Not exactly appropriate for parent-teacher conferences at Havenwood. I slid them on and fastened the back zipper before taking a few tentative steps. Not too bad, actually. Rare that a stiletto was both decorative and comfortable. I performed a slow pirouette and put my hands on my hips. “Thoughts?”

“Many, many thoughts.” His voice was a growl. “But I doubt you want me to share them here and now.”

“Mal,” I breathed, trying to keep things PG-13. “Should I get it or not?”

“She'll take the whole outfit,” Mal said in a low voice and glanced at the lingerie still clutched in the other salesperson's hands. “And all of that. Any teddies in that stack?”

Okay, he was losing it. “Mal, seriously—why do I need teddies?”

“So I can see you in them. And then see you out of them,” he declared as if I was asking a very foolish question. With a grin tossed over his shoulder at me, he pulled out a credit card and headed to the register. I made a motion to stop him and he shot a look that clearly said “don't even try it.”

I wondered if now was a good time to discuss what was going on between us. He was buying me stuff. Stuff I could buy on my own. And he clearly planned on being around to see me wear these things. By my count, his tryout was in a few weeks. If he was picked up by the Stars, he was headed back to Houston and I was in Belle Haven trying to broaden the minds of teenagers. History showed that we struggled to keep it all together while in the same city; what was the long distance going to help? With a shake of my head, I dismissed the more serious thoughts.

“He said you have to try a few of these jeans as well,” Heather announced, handing me a stack of various denim options. I reached out to take them from her and she handed me some tops as well. “He likes these too.”

I could pretend to be indignant, but truth be told, Malachi knew my taste as well as I did and there wasn't a single thing he picked out that I didn't like. Some of it was a bit more clingy or low-cut than I would normally wear, but overall, not bad choices. Deciding that tomorrow was soon enough to think about the bigger picture, I closed the dressing room door and got started.

Almost two hours later, I was sick of trying on clothes. I was done. After determining that this sale would more than make up whatever quota they had for the day, the ladies had locked the front door and spent the time handing me items of clothing and chatting with Malachi. Baller Charming had talked them into knocking 30 percent off the entire thing with a wink and picture for each of their Facebook pages.

That sort of thing used to drive me crazy. Now, I just laughed it off and stepped into one of the new bra and panty sets Mal had spent a considerable fortune on. It was a peacock blue creation of lace and satin with little pink bows on the straps of the bra and the high-cut thighs of the panties. It was beautiful lingerie. I wanted to feel guilty; actually, I didn't. I didn't feel guilty at all. Three-hundred-dollar lingerie was not in my budget, no matter how much the show was paying me to suffer on camera week after week. He seemed happy buying belts and shoes and whatever else they dreamed up, so I decided to let him be that. But a girl could at least say a proper thank-you.

“Mal, could you come back here for a minute?” I said in a breathy voice.

“Excuse me, ladies. Can you have all of this sent over to our room at the Ritz Carlton? Thanks so much.” He jogged back and peered over the door of the dressing room. I loved how his jaw went slack in appreciation before he hitched one brow upward in surprise. “You're looking a little underdressed to go to lunch, babe.”

I opened the door and pulled him inside. “You're looking a little overdressed for what I have in mind.” I shoved him backward and he landed on the little bench. I pointed at him. “Don't. Move.” I cracked the door open an inch. “We're going to need a few minutes to make some final decisions on these last few items. You all should take Mal's credit card and go indulge in a latte . . . or two, with biscotti,” I suggested.

They giggled. “We'll be back in twenty. You guys rock!”

“We do, you're awesome. Buh-bye, now!” I called out as they left the store and locked it behind them. I swung back toward Mal, who sat with his jaw hanging open again. I put a bit more sway in my hips as I neared him, watching his eyes track my every movement. It had been a long time since I'd felt this way. Sexy, confident, in control, hot. Everything was exactly as it should be in this moment and I intended to enjoy the hell out of it. I leaned down and bit his lower lip. “Close your mouth, Mal Henry, or put it to better use.” I straddled his lap and put my arms around his neck.

“Seriously, it's like that?” His voice rumbled out as he shifted my hips closer.

“Seriously, it's exactly like that.” I plunged my fingers into his dense wavy hair and settled my lips against his. We always kissed well. We started with lips and then added tongues, exploring and dueling. We caught fire instantly, his arms tightening around me like steel bands. I writhed against him, trying to get as close as I could. I could admit it: I loved it. I loved being in his arms, I adored the way he held me, the way our hearts started to beat to the exact same cadence when we were close like this. I loved that I didn't have to play coy or pretend to be anything other than what I was. I loved that all I had to do was nip his ear and whisper, “I neither require nor desire any foreplay.” He knew exactly what I wanted.

His hands flew to his jeans, undoing the buttons and unzipping in record time. He'd barely shoved his boxers down when I shifted my panties to the side and settled atop him. I licked my lips and uttered a greedy groan as I took him inside me with one swift downward stroke.