Protecting His Assets (11 page)

“Her shutters, huh?” Cass grabbed a jar of something—probably the sauce—and placed it into a second bag. In the first she’d already packed a waffle bowl, plastic spoon, container of white chocolate chips and a pint of chocolate. “Is this something you discussed when you ran into each other at that club?”

He frowned. Cass could be shifty, and if she was trying to trap him somehow, he wouldn’t make it easier on her. At least Summer had mentioned seeing him at a club, though he’d bet his team’s pennant she hadn’t told Cass exactly what she’d been doing there. “Uh, no. Her shutters are a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“I wonder why she’d think you were good with a hammer.” Neatly rolling up the top of the bags, his sister flashed a blithe smile and passed them to him over the counter. “Poor misguided woman.”

Because he wasn’t entirely certain he hadn’t missed some vital female subtext—again—he just grunted and mumbled something about hidden talents and Bob Vila. That had been the guy with the home reno show back in the day, right?

“Thanks, sis. I’ll enjoy this.”

Cass wiggled her fingers in a wave goodbye. “Tell Summer not to enjoy hers too much, okay?”

More subtext. He wasn’t biting. “Sure. See you later. Don’t lose any more weight or I’ll force feed you half a turkey at Thanksgiving dinner.” Her laughter followed him out of the store.

He met up with Summer by her sweet pink Caddy in the parking lot. He could never make up his mind if he’d classify it an eyesore or a classic. Probably both. “What’s the deal with you and this sauce?” he asked, pushing the second bag into her hands.

Summer offered him the same secretive smile as Cass. Disconcerting. “It’s just chocolate sauce.” She took his bag too, ostensibly to stick in her freezer while he worked on her menial tasks. “You like white chocolate, right?”

“You’re not supposed to know about that.”

“You’d be surprised what I know, Deuce.” She slipped into her car without giving him time to grouse about the nickname usage.

By the time they arrived at her place, he’d come up with a plan to combat their aloneness for the next hour and a half before they started the trek into the city. He’d nail her shutters or whatever and then he’d stand at her sink and scarf down the ice cream without making eye contact or conversation. That would succinctly convey his disinterest.

Or it might’ve if she hadn’t parked ahead of him in her driveway and rushed inside, declaring she needed to change. Hard to ignore someone who wasn’t paying you any mind.

He dawdled in his SUV, not wanting to spend any longer in her personal space than necessary. In and out—that was his motto. No entanglements, no drama.

When he knew he couldn’t stall any longer, he trudged up the wide plank porch steps to the door, noting the shiny urns full of thriving fall flowers and cheerful half moon welcome mat, and pulled open the screen door. He’d taken two steps inside when Summer bounded downstairs in a tiny ass robe that showed her legs approximately up to her nipples. Maybe even higher.

“What the frig is that?”

Slyly, she held out the object she’d hidden behind her back. “This, my dear Deuce, is a hammer. One uses it to nail…things.”

“I don’t mean the hammer. I mean that piece of clothing. Why are you practically naked?”

“I need to take a shower before my show.” She inched closer, the hammer still clutched between her perky breasts. And there was that word again.
Perky
. “You don’t want me to stink when I’m on stage, do you?” She lifted her wrist and sniffed. “I reek of—”

“Chocolate and vanilla and everything nice?” He barely resisted a snarl.

She smirked. “You seem stressed. Maybe you should sit down and eat your ice cream before you go play with my hammer.” As she stroked it, he shifted uncomfortably. If he didn’t have sex soon, he’d probably shoot off from the image of those golden fingers wrapping around the wood. Squeezing again and again.

Christ. He needed ice cream or a cold compress or something. Maybe he should stuff his dick in the pint of chocolate. Couldn’t hurt.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out. “Give me the freaking hammer. And go get dressed. We need to leave soon.”

“Oh, we have plenty of time.” The way she caressed the word
plenty
made his balls throb. Stupid balls. Stupid celibacy.

Like his pathetic truck trick, he took as long to mess around with her shutters as humanly possible. If they’d actually been loose, it would’ve helped. They weren’t. He still hammered and banged the outside of her house, hoping she’d feel guilty for driving him out into the cold and wind to avoid her numerous blatant sexual overtures.

They had been blatant sexual overtures, right? Sometimes he just wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. His fish couldn’t be lured with pink, perky nipp—hooks.

When he came back into the living room, his hands ached from his vigorous needless pounding. Other parts of him ached because they hadn’t pounded anything in way too long. Seeing Summer all curled up in the corner of the couch with a spoon in her jar of sauce and his ice cream stuff spread out on the coffee table didn’t help with the latter.

“Hey. Thank you. You’re so sweet.” She leaned forward and her robe gaped almost to the point of indecency. She didn’t seem to notice. “Here, let’s eat. I’ll get showered and ready to go when we’re done.” She waved her dripping spoon. “I had paperwork to do,” she added, all blue-eyed and pink-cheeked innocence.

“Uh huh.”

He took the opposite end of the couch and reached for his melting ice cream. Instead of his plastic spoon, she’d given him a fancy dessert one with a long handle. “You didn’t need to go to any trouble. I’m not company.”

If she noticed his peeved tone, she didn’t react. She smiled around her spoon, currently hidden between her luscious pink lips. Then she slid it out, nice and slow. “No, but you are doing a service for me. Protecting my assets and all.”

“Uh huh.” That would now be his standard answer to everything.

“Come on, Chase. We used to be friends.” She stretched out her bare legs and nudged his thigh with unpainted toes. The surprising lack of artifice turned him to stone faster than any coat of passion red or whatever they called that crap. “Can’t we hang out and have fun?”

“Sure. You having fun yet?”

She heaved out a sigh. “No, but I know how to get the party started. I have a confession to make.”

“God help me.”

“I have a pair of Daggers team panties with your name on the ass.” Though he was too busy swallowing his own spoon to look her way, he heard her sucking on hers. “I’m wearing them right now.”

The Daggers had team
panties
? That fabric got to cup her slick pussy while he nursed the hard-on from hell?

Surely there had to be an appropriate way to redirect this conversation. Until his brain cells regenerated he’d focus on not adding fuel to her fire. “That’s nice. Always glad to have a fan support the team, even if it’s not technically mine anymore. Did you catch any games last season?”

“I never missed one of your games.”

His chest tightened and he dropped his forgotten spoon in his waffle bowl. Pretty soon he’d be able to drink his ice cream. “Why?”

“I’m a baseball fan. Can’t say I kept up on much of the drama that surrounded you and the team, but I like the sport itself.” She shrugged and swirled her spoon in the jar, clinking the sides. “I like you too. Not that you’d ever see me that way.” Her mirthless chuckle echoed in his head. “Sister’s best friend equals no stray zone, right?”

His brain had detoured somewhere around the mention of her watching all his games. Then he clicked into the rest. “What way?” he asked, knowing full well. He shifted to face her, needing to watch the words form on her damp lips. Hearing them wasn’t enough. “You know I like you too.” Too much. Dangerously much.

“It’s different.”

“And?” He motioned for her to continue. “Don’t stop now.”

She pulled her knees up closer to her chest, slightly parting her thighs. Letting him glimpse the royal blue color that belonged to his team.
Had
been his team. The pang came swift and hard, dissipating only when she whispered, “And I’m wet for you. Every day. Every night. All the moments in between.”

A groan ripped from his throat. He couldn’t let the images form behind his eyes or he’d never get the words out. “Dammit, Summer.”

“I’m sorry you can’t handle the truth.” She didn’t sound sorry. She sounded pissed. Yeah, well, join the club.

“With you and me, it’s not that simple. It can’t be.” Big blue eyes bored into his and made his throat go dry. He couldn’t seem to figure out what to say to stop all of this, and worst of all, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. “Yes, there’s Cass. We have so much history…”

“Why is that a bad thing? We know each other so well.” She flung her toes at the vial of white chocolate chips on the coffee table that, now that he’d given up alcohol, served as his most potent vice. Other than her. “I know you don’t want anyone to know you love chocolate and hate peas.”

His mouth twitched. “I don’t care if people know I hate peas. They’re vile.”

“I also know you’ve bought into your persona more than anyone else. You’ve actually convinced yourself you’re a boozer who bangs any chick who moves. That’s your identity now and you wear that badge of shame with pride.”

Chase pressed his knuckles into the cushion beside him, craving that quick, obliterating pain that would shoot up his arm and erase everything else for an instant. For once, it didn’t come. “What do you know about pride? You watch my games on TV and you remember what vegetables I hate. That doesn’t make you some expert on me.”

“I’ll tell you what I know about pride. I know it won’t keep you company in bed at night. Neither will those women who don’t care about how you like your ice cream or how you bob your knee when you’re nervous—” she gave his leg a pointed glance until he went still, “—or that you miss your mom the same way I miss mine, even if you’d die before saying it. I know you, and I’m still sitting here. Tell me that doesn’t count for something and I’ll call you a liar.” She studied him with way too knowing eyes. “One more thing you can add to that list of failures you wave around so much.”

The chaos in his head could be quieted with one simple statement. He could disavow a million honorable reasons for why he shouldn’t take what he wanted and take it hard. Except one.

“You’re my employer and I won’t compromise your safety for any reason, including unnecessary personal involvement.”

“I can’t employ someone who refuses to accept payment.” She spooned up more chocolate and reminded him that he hadn’t finished his. A thought that vanished as soon as she trailed a thick line of white sauce along her full lower lip.

He might as well admit defeat. She’d officially signed his death warrant.

He wasn’t thinking about her mouth wet with chocolate sauce. Not even close. He wanted her lips wet from him. Wanted to lean down and drag his teeth over her flesh and taste what he’d left behind after she’d relieved the relentless throb in his balls.

“You don’t know what you’re stirring up, little girl.” He pushed her foot back harder than he’d meant to and she let out a startled squeak. “Sorry.” He grasped her calf and rubbed. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. I’m not delicate. I’m also not a little girl. And you’re not the brute you obviously think you are either. Do you think anything nice about yourself? Ever?” She kicked at him and dislodged his smile. “Eat your ice cream. I’ll sit here and think chaste thoughts.”

At a complete loss, he swallowed some of the melting chocolate. Then he went back for more. “Is that even possible?”

“Probably not.” She sulked into her chocolate sauce.

“What do you want from me, Summer?” he asked once five minutes of tense silence had passed. “Why don’t you just tell me instead of leaving me to guess? Am I supposed to prove to you that I think I’m a decent guy by bending you over this sofa and ramming inside you? You really think that’ll redeem my sense of self?”

She ran her spoon over her lip, obviously weighing something in her mind. Yet again he couldn’t be certain she’d heard him. Her inattention rankled. “A kiss,” she decided finally. “That’s all.”

“A kiss?” Narrowing his eyes, he cocked his head. “Where?”

Smiling, she took another lick of her spoon and set the jar aside. Then she crawled closer and hovered beside him, her gaze already fixated on his lips. “Mouth to mouth, baby.”

That tightness in his chest returned. He didn’t like her calling him baby. It didn’t seem right.

He liked it too much.

“Fine.” He set aside his ice cream and motioned her toward him impatiently. Better to let her think he wanted to get it over with. “Let’s make this fa—”

Her lips met his and his thoughts died a fiery death.

Her gentle, seeking kiss incited a whole new throb beneath his waist. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His only defense against her careful assault was to wait it out. Then she slipped her tongue, flavored with sweet raspberry and chocolate, along his and he forgot that he couldn’t participate. He grabbed her arms and tugged her onto his lap, pulling her legs on either side of his so that she straddled him. Reaching up, he shoved his hands through the miles of dark hair that fell down around them and met her stroke for stroke.