My Front Page Scandal (16 page)

Brooke’s resolution wobbled. “I don’t know either. With David, I don’t know anything for sure. You’ll have to trust me.” Like I have to trust myself. She unclasped her purse and removed a cell phone. “Because one thing I do know is that I’m better with David than I was with all the family-approved Harvard MBAs and Navy officers put together.”

WITH A GRUMPY mountain-lion growl, Rick pushed away from the makeshift poker table. He’d lost a hefty pot to an off-hours room service waiter with an inside straight. “I’m out,” he said, and stalked to the balcony to light up a stogie.

Their fourth player, a bespectacled front desk clerk, claimed to be allergic to smoke.

David let Rick stew in his juices for five minutes before following him outside.

His buddy had been in a funk all evening. Had to be a really lousy funk when not even poker could distract him. On the road, they’d gotten into some rowdy games.

David cleared his throat as he stepped outside. “So Emily knows about the strip club?”

“Hell, yeah. Some tight-ass bitch from her office called first thing this morning.” Rick mimicked the conversation in a mincing soprano. “‘If it was my husband I’d want to know.’ Em ran out to get the paper, then showed up at the door of my crappy apartment with blood in her eye. She says that we’re through for good.”

“Shit, man. I’m sorry.”

“Women,” Rick said, with more misery than disgust. “They fixate on the stupidest transgressions. I apologized my ass off, but she couldn’t comprehend that looking at naked women is different than touching them.” He chomped on the cigar. “I don’t suppose your little striptease gal has a sister?”

“You’ve got the wrong idea about Brooke. She’s not really like that. She’s genuine. Sweet, even shy.”

“That’s worse. Watch your step, bro.”

David bent down to rest his elbows on the railing. He followed a brightly lit yacht gliding through the dark waters of Boston Harbor. “Too late. I’m falling for her.”

“Falling? Hell, you went splat days ago. I knew it the morning we had breakfast and you wouldn’t share the juicy details. I was the same way when I started going out with Emily.” Merely saying his wife’s name gave Rick a hangdog look.

“Don’t give up, big guy,” David said. “Emily will cool off. Maybe I could explain that I asked you to go.”

Rick cut him off. “There’s nothing to explain. So I went to a strip club. What’s the friggin’ big deal about that?”

“Seems to be, when you’re married.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the smart one, staying single. If Em asks for a divorce, maybe I should celebrate.” Less than enthusiastic at the prospect, Rick dropped to his elbows beside David, his wide shoulders slumped even lower than they did after he’d suffered a loss on the mound.

“Don’t give up,” David said again. “Never give up.”

The encouragement felt hollow, considering that he had let Brooke walk out on him without a word of protest. He’d been so concerned about doing something to ruin their relationship that he’d done nothing at all.

“Thanks for the pep talk, man, but that only works in sports, where there are rules.” Rick studied the glowing end of the cigar. Wisps of pungent smoke dissipated on the autumn breeze. “Women should come with a handbook.”

Inside the suite, David’s phone shrilled. He straightened and clapped Rick on the back. “In the end, I figure that they want what we want—hot sex, real love and a good, safe home for raising babies. They just go about it differently.”

Rick bolted upright, so shocked he dropped his cigar over the balcony railing and didn’t even notice. “Raising babies? Chrissakes. What the hell’s gotten into you?”

David didn’t answer. He was sweeping up the cell with the concentration he usually reserved for fly balls. His heart expanded as he flipped it open. There it was—the answer to Rick’s question spelled out in glowing letters on the cell phone screen.

Brooke.

Forever and always Brooke, if only he got one more chance with her to make everything right.

“Lindsay, it’s time. I’m going to show you what being a sister is all about.”

Surprise froze Lindsay’s hand on the lever of the tap, and the head of a stout ale foamed over the sides of the glass she’d been filling. She swore and handed the dripping beer to the bartender before approaching Brooke.

Her expression was wary as she picked up a bar towel and wiped the amber liquid from her fingers. “What do you have in mind?”

“Nothing too difficult. A favor.”

“I can do that.”

Brooke waved Lindsay closer so she wouldn’t have to shout above the music. The place was rocking tonight. “I called David. He’s meeting me here. You have a place upstairs, right?”

Lindsay nodded. “You want to, you know, use it?”

“No. Not the way you think. All I want is your closet.” Brooke stuck her thumbs under the collar of her houndstooth jacket. “These clothes won’t do and I don’t have time to go home to change. We should be about the same size.”

“I—”

Brooke pressed. “Sisters share clothes all the time. Joey used to snag mine before the tags were off.”

“All right. Sure. I’ll get you my key and you can help yourself.”

“Nope,” Brooke said. “You’re coming with me. Half the fun is trying things on together.”

“But I don’t—that is, I’m too busy. And I’ve never—”

“Go ahead, Lindsay.” Denver appeared out of nowhere, looking cool and collected despite a loosened tie and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. One of the women in the crush at the other end of the bar squealed his name. He flicked his chin her way, but his eyes were intent on his boss. “I’ve got the place under control.”

“Like I don’t,” Lindsay said beneath her breath, but she conceded. A wave directed Brooke toward the far end of the bar, where a door marked Staff Only led to a private area with an office and storage room.

“So you’re giving David another chance?” Lindsay said as they walked down an unadorned hallway that reverberated with the dull bass beat. She twisted a knob.

The door to the stairwell was closed, but unlocked.

Brooke swallowed. “I think it’s more the other way around.” Scary stuff, this business of wearing your heart on your sleeve. She felt as if she were facing the ultimate dare.

Lindsay glanced back. “You’ve got guts.”

“Queasy guts,” Brooke admitted. “Thanks, Linds. You’re saving my life.” She gave her new sister’s arm a squeeze. “My romantic life, anyway.”

“Any time.” Lindsay made an effort at a warm, genuine smile as she led the way up the staircase. “Follow me. We’ll do some long overdue sisterly bonding over my rather unexciting wardrobe.”

CHASSY THROBBED WITH rock music and writhing bodies. David skirted the crowd on the dance floor, scouting the tables and booths as he went. Near a corner, he found elbow room to unzip his bomber jacket and loosen the scarf wound around his neck. The bar felt steam-heated, but outside the temperature had dropped.

The motorcycle ride to south Boston had been invigorating, which was a fancy way of saying cold.

An elegant hand emerged from the crowd to tug at his sleeve. A female voice shouted, “This way.”

He followed Lindsay’s blond head through the streams of club-crawlers toward one of the more private back rooms. Strobe lights flickered over the gyrating dancers in the hot, dark room, highlighting a tattooed shoulder here, a bouncing breast there. The air was pungent with the smells of alcohol, perfume and perspiration.

“She’s in there.” Lindsay gestured at the body-beautiful crowd. “Somewhere.”

David mouthed a thanks and plunged into the throng. The walls and floor, even the air itself, vibrated with the driving bass of a hard-rock song. He maneuvered among the twisting bodies, searching the faces of strangers. Laughing mouths flashed bleached teeth. Glittered eyelids closed in rapture. Beginning to sweat inside his leather jacket, he lost count of the hands and boobs and butts that pressed against him.

The crowd shifted. There she was, dancing in the middle of a rowdy group. Eyes closed, arms raised high, she moved to the music, swaying seductively in a world of her own.

David whistled softly. Brooke’s beauty outshone all the rest. She was long limbed and sinuous in a slim black skirt and shimmery lace blouse. Her braless breasts moved beneath the fabric as she swung her loose caramel hair off her shoulders. A blissful smile painted her glossed lips.

She was freer than David had ever seen her, except in bed. Instantly he wanted to take her right there on the dance floor, hard and fast and furious while the music pounded in their ears.

He pushed through the crowd, wrapped his hands around her swiveling hips and pulled her to him, none too gently, so that she was held firmly against his chest and thighs. Her eyes flew open, but she wasn’t surprised to see him. She smiled flirtatiously and began to move, brushing her belly over his growing erection. Her heated cheeks grew even rosier.

She’d been expecting him. Dancing for him. The knowledge turned his blood molten.

Eyes locked, they swayed together. He didn’t consider himself much of a dancer, but this wasn’t dancing.

It was seduction. Enchantment. Witchery.

Sultry and slow, deep and solid and real.

He groaned and buried his face in her hair. She whispered, but he couldn’t hear the words, could only feel the movement of her lips on his throat.

He cupped her bottom. She slid her arms around his neck and licked the underside of his jaw. “I want you,” he said, and he couldn’t hear his own words, either.

He said them anyway. “I’ve been wanting you. I won’t let you go again.”

The heat rose between them. Brooke felt soft and liquid in his arms. Her mouth nibbled at his throat, peppered wet kisses at the base of his throat. She placed a hand over his fly and stroked the ridge of flesh beneath it.

He sucked in a harsh gasp, catching her hand and forcing it away. With his mouth practically on hers, he said, “Dangerous.”

She went up on her toes. “Dare you.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“My hotel.”

“Too far.” She twisted away. “Come with me.”

They pushed through the mass of dancers into the main room of the bar, keeping near the outskirts as they bypassed the booths and the curtained doorway to the room used for Martinis and Bikinis meetings. There were people everywhere, laughing, talking, drinking. David wanted them gone.

“Here,” Brooke said, turning to face him as she butted open a door marked Staff Only. They slipped inside. The decibel level dropped considerably as the solid wood door shut behind them.

“Staff only? You rebel.” He kissed her hungrily. She tasted sweet and smoky and earthily female, the way Chassy smelled, but so much better.

Her mouth was mobile under his, returning every needy kiss with one of her own.

Her tongue slid into his mouth, retreated when he tried to capture it, then unfurled in a long caress. Hot charges of lust detonated in David’s brain.

He spread his palms over her ass, hoping to get a handful of skirt to raise, but the damn thing was too tight. Reaching lower, he bent her over backward and she complied, trusting the hand he’d splayed at the small of her back. She let her head tip over, offering him her arched throat. Her lips parted with a sultry laugh as her lids lowered and her honey-brown hair spilled free. She swayed in his grip. He caught the hem of her skirt and yanked it upward before letting go to wrap both hands around her waist.

She clutched his jacket. “Kiss me.” The command was husky.

“Yes, ma’am.” His head dropped forward to reach her mouth and they were going at it without heed when the door opened behind them.

A tall, dark-haired man crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t—uh, Brooke?”

She peeped. David clutched her to his chest, but she surprised him by looking past his shoulder and giving the man a small wave. “Hey, Denver. Um…”

“I’ll be two seconds,” he said, brushing past them to enter an open doorway down the hall.

David remained frozen. Brooke pressed her lips to the side of his neck. She opened her mouth and was working her way inside his collar when the guy returned, lugging a crate of bottles. They pushed against the wall to let him pass.

He glanced back. Music pounded through the walls. The air was thick and humid with sexual desperation. “Carry on,” he said before letting the door swing shut.

Brooke sighed and hooked her fingers in David’s shirtfront, popping several of the buttons. “That was Denver.”

“Maybe we should go.”

“I can’t wait.” One hand moved inside his shirt. Her fingers found his nipple and rolled it like a bead.

He inhaled. “Keep doing that and I won’t be able to wait, either.”

“That’s the idea.” She turned and pulled him with her to a door at the end of the dim hall. Her skirt was bunched in creases over her bottom. He groaned at the provocative sight of her naked thighs and the hint of round cheeks. Denver’d had an eyeful.

She opened a door. “Here.”

They were in a cramped stairwell. Not the most comfortable location. The steps were steep and narrow, with only a low-wattage bulb at the top for illumination.

He started up.

She stopped him. “That’s Lindsay’s apartment. The door’s locked.”

“Then where…?” He turned to see she’d leaned against the wall. Her hair fanned across the yellowed wallpaper as she inched a little lower, tilting her hips forward. Her smile teased him for a couple of excruciating seconds before she reached down and took hold of her skirt and inched it upward to reveal a tiny triangle of silk and the sheen of her smooth belly.

His pulse picked up, pounding louder than the distant music.

With a grateful groan of surrender, he dropped to his knees in front of her. She hadn’t expected that, and gasped as he put his mouth directly to the mound of her sex, using his teeth to tear away her undergarment. The tip of his tongue licked at her cleft. She slapped her palms against the wall and parted for him, buckling a bit at the knees until he supported her with his hands on the backs of her thighs. He opened her wider and drove his tongue deep, lost as the taste and scent of her became his entire world.

She gripped handfuls of his hair while he plied her with his tongue. Now she tugged. “I want you inside me.”

Like a starving man, he gorged on a taste of her to last before staggering to his feet. He searched his pockets for a condom. She wiggled out of her thong, seeming to have no concern that only an unlocked door stood between them and the packed night club. Later, he would question her recklessness, but not now.

“How do we do this?” She was breathless and fumbling, but eager to unbutton his fly, both hands molding and squeezing him even before she’d managed to free his hard-on. He dropped his jeans, shoved down his briefs and she sighed with a pleasing appreciation as she got hold of him.

They rolled on the condom. He hoisted up one of her legs, putting his knee up beneath it. “We do it like this,” he said, using every muscle to lift and hold her tight against the wall while he flexed his thighs and drove himself up inside her.

Her eyes opened wide. For an instant, she tensed. The clenching pressure on his erection almost set him off right then. But she let out a big sigh and relaxed, dropping slightly lower so he was enveloped by her tight female warmth.

Incredible.

“This is gonna be fast.” He rocked against her.

“I want it that way.” Eyes burning bright, she held on to his collar and squeezed him even tighter between her thighs.

He panted. Got his hands under her and thrust into her with a rocking motion.

They knocked against the wall. A steady rhythm, almost keeping time with the beat of the music. He stared into her eyes. “Come for me.”

“Make me.”

“Oh, I will.” His final thrust pressed her flat against the wall, as the need to spill inside her burned fiercely at the base of his spine. Her muscles spasmed around him as her release washed through her.

In a surging torrent, he let go. Something big inside him went, too, something more than sex, more than passion.

She’d taken a piece of his heart.

Not only a piece, he realized as he slipped out of her and they plopped onto the steps, still holding each other as their bodies slumped. She had the entire thing.

“WHAT WAS THIS ABOUT?” he asked a short time later, when his pulse was back under control and the blood had returned to his head. All she’d said on the phone was that she wanted to see him again.

“I guess it’s—” She sighed and stroked her palm across his chest, shifting slightly on the narrow steps. “I’m asking if you want to keep seeing me.”

“Yes.”

“I know you might not be staying in the area, all things considered, but—”

“I’ll stay.” He reclined, not caring about the treads biting into his back.

“You’re the main consideration.”

Her head lifted. “Really?”

“I’ll have to leave for spring training, but hopefully I’ll be back.”