The Game (2 page)

I didn’t breathe while I watched him walk away, his perfect ass encased in designer
suit pants, swaying. Every muscle in his butt and thighs was firm and tight.

I licked my lips, imagining running my hands over all the planes of his body.

Fuck.

I was doomed.

Chapter Three

I was on pins and needles the next day. Would Riley actually contact me? The chances
were slim. After all, his track record was zero.

Stacy grilled me for fifteen minutes when we arrived in the morning. For the first
time since I’d started at Talent, I hated not having my own office but rather a cubicle
in a room with the other consultants.

“Cheyenne, I can’t believe you never told me you knew Mr. Moreno. I mean, surely you
know him. It looked like you two were in a deep discussion.” She chatted on, leaning
against the partition between my cubicle and hers, fully inside my small space, making
it impossible to avoid her. “So where do you know him from?”

I lifted my gaze to hers. “We met at a party months ago. Not a big deal. I’m surprised
he remembered me.” That last bit was a lie, but I was surprised he
cared
that he remembered me.

“You’re so calm about it.” Stacy beamed. And then she giggled. “What’s he like? Don’t
you just want to rip off his shirt and see if his pecs are as firm as they look?”

I rolled my eyes. “I hardly know him. And I haven’t given any thought to his bare
chest.” That was also a lie. A blatant lie.

Stacy pushed off the wall. “Who was that other woman fawning over him? She looked
like she’d be happy to lick his feet clean, and then she slipped quietly away as though
someone had killed her puppy. And the glare she gave you… Girl…”

“I have no idea.” Whoever it was, she knew him well. And what did I care?

“I don’t know how you can be so nonchalant. He’s like an elusive god. I’d give my
right arm to have him stroke it like he did yours yesterday.” She nearly moaned, and
then she righted herself. “Damn, I gotta get back to work. We’ll talk later.” Finally,
she left me alone to return to her own cubicle.

I stared at my computer screen—the one I hadn’t turned on yet—and tried to control
my emotional upheaval and my shaking hands. With a deep breath, I concentrated on
my workload and attempted to stuff Riley to the farthest corner of my brain.

And I succeeded to a certain extent, burying myself for hours in my current project,
ignoring the time and even skipping lunch while I was on a roll. I was currently working
on an advertising campaign for a large cell phone company—Link. It wasn’t unheard
of for the hours to slip by while I plastered myself to the screen in front of me.
After spending the morning contacting the customer to ensure I had all their current
logos and artwork on hand, I spent the afternoon playing with possible new slogans
and a fresh look.

It wasn’t until my phone buzzed on the corner of my desk near the end of the day that
I stretched my neck and reached to grab the cell. There was a text.

I stared at the device in my hand, blinking for several seconds.

Cheyenne, I want to apologize properly. Please let me take you out. Friday night?

The man added a smiling emoji to the end of his text.

I squeezed the phone so tight it was a wonder it didn’t shatter.

My instinct was to not respond at all, but he was so persistent about this that I
doubted my lack of response would deter him.

What if I’m not available Friday night?
I finally texted in return.

Make yourself available
.

I groaned. When had he become so high-handed? And why was his persistence so hot?
I should be angry instead of fidgeting in my seat attempting to take the pressure
off my pussy by adjusting my dress pants.

I stared at my phone in my hand for several seconds, my fingers shaking too much to
respond.

Please?
he texted next.

Okay
. Why? Why was I doing this to myself? The only thing that could possibly result from
me going out with Riley would be heartache and disappointment.

:) You want to give me your address?

How did you get my phone number?

Touché.

I knew it would be easy for him to get my address from Amy. I was certain that was
how he’d gotten my cell number.

Sure enough, Amy called ten minutes later. “What’s up between you and Riley? I didn’t
realize you two knew each other so well.”

“We don’t,” I countered too quickly. “I just ran into him at the fundraiser yesterday—huge
shindig to get computers in the hands of more students in city schools. Apparently
Alexander Technologies is involved. Guess he’s trying to be polite. We should make
nice since our friends are getting married and all.” I didn’t want to get into my
feelings for Riley any further with Amy. I was embarrassed to be so enamored with
the guy. A complete fool.

“That’s sweet.”

“You know me.” Too well. That was the problem. If she could see my face, she’d know
I was lying through my teeth.

As it was, this was going to be the longest week of my life, and it was only Tuesday.

****

At five minutes before eight Friday night I stared at my reflection in my bathroom
mirror, wondering if I’d gone overboard or not.

Riley didn’t seem the type to hang out in seedy bars in jeans and a T-shirt. I assumed
high-end was more his style, so I’d wiggled myself into my favorite tight little black
dress and heels that I was well aware made my calves look fucking awesome. I knew
this because Amy and Meagan told me every time I wore them.

The decision to go this route hadn’t been easy. I’d put on jeans and a tank top first,
thinking I could perhaps deter Riley from insisting we go out if I wasn’t dressed
the part.

But that idea had the potential to backfire on me if Riley decided to follow my lead
and invite himself into my apartment instead. The only thing worse than sitting across
from him at a bar would be sitting next to him alone in my apartment on my couch.

And then there was my hair. For years I’d worn it in a cute bob. I’d been told countless
times my thick blonde locks fell perfectly around my face. Too perfectly I imagined.
I was tired of the image. So, over the last year, I’d let it grow out. It now skimmed
my shoulders in loose curls I’d stopped trying to straighten months ago.

Meagan said it made me look softer. Amy said I looked more human. She was teasing,
but she’d always insisted I looked like I stepped out of a painting.

Tonight I had taken the time to blow-dry the thick curls into submission, and I’d
pinned the front section on top of my head, leaving a ringlet on each side to hang
across my cheeks. It looked fantastic. Too bad it was essentially wasted on Mr. Riley
Moreno.

My makeup was the same as always, subtle—mascara, eye shadow, light foundation, lip
gloss. I’d had it down to a science since about sixth grade. It worked for me. My
girls told me so. So I didn’t fuck with it.

When the knock sounded at my front door, I flinched.

Show time.

Holding my breath, I made my way to the front room, peeked through the hole in the
door, and then turned the knob when I confirmed Riley was indeed standing on the other
side.

I was in far more danger opening the door to this man than perhaps a serial killer,
but I did it anyway, unable to keep myself from following my curiosity.

Riley was smiling when I opened the door, but his smile widened as he took me in.

I was simply relieved to find him wearing a suit instead of jeans. At least we matched.

“You look gorgeous, Cheyenne.” His voice was deep and sincere, and he leaned forward
and kissed my cheek.

I blushed, surprised by both his intimacy and the chill that raced down my spine and
left goose bumps on my arms. Why did this man affect me so thoroughly?

He stroked my elbow next. “I’m glad you dressed up. I didn’t have time to go home
from the office. We’ll go to Sky.”

Sky. I’d been there only one time before and that was right after Meagan, Amy, and
I finished our master’s degrees and splurged on an evening at the most exclusive nightclub
in the area.

“You ready? Need anything?”

I reached for my clutch on the stand next to the door and nodded. “This really isn’t
necessary, you know.”

“It really is.” He took my arm to guide me down the hall of my third floor apartment.
My front door shut behind us like a gong, sealing my fate. If Riley thought he was
going to lure me out for an evening of entertainment and then leave me to find a cab
home, I would kill him and never flinch at the repercussions.

“I swear I’m not usually such an ass, Cheyenne,” he said as we waited for the elevator.

“I’ll take your word for it.” What else was I supposed to say?

“You don’t have to take my word. I’ll prove it. And I don’t blame you for the way
you’re looking at me either. I deserve your distrust. If I were you, I might have
dead bolted the front door and ignored my knocking. Thank you for giving me the opportunity
to make things right.”

How he could possibly make things right? But the man was insistent, so I decided to
guard my heart closer this time and let him do what he needed to do to clear his conscience.

I was surprised to find a sleek black Mercedes parked out front, and even more shocked
to see a man climbing from the driver’s seat to round the car and open the rear passenger
door. He was tall and slender. His hair was sparse and mostly gray. He tugged his
suit jacket down as he walked. When I met his gaze, he gave me a small smile that
made his eyes twinkle and a nod. “Evening, Ms. Decard.”

He knew my name? Interesting… I smiled back at him.

“Cheyenne, this is my driver, Les Charles.”

I shouldn’t have found it odd that Riley had a driver. After all, Cade also had a
driver. I wasn’t sure Amy had been behind the wheel of a car since they moved in together
last Thanksgiving.

Before that, Riley had been the CEO of The Rockwood Group in Nashville, Cade had been
at Alexander Technologies in Atlanta, and Parker was at Edgewater Inc. in Charlotte.

For a moment, I regretted my decision to wear the short black dress that hugged my
body a bit too tightly. I tugged the hem as I slid into the back seat of the car,
worrying the entire time I’d given Riley a bit too much of a view.

He didn’t say a word, however, as he slid in beside me.

I fidgeted as we took off, unable to keep my hands still in my lap, wringing them.

Riley surprised me by setting his hand on top of mine and squeezing. “I swear I don’t
bite. Relax.”

I blew out a breath and turned my head to meet his gaze, tugging my hands
away
to escape his touch to no avail. In fact, his fingers were so long, they grazed my
bare thighs at the juncture, precariously close to my sex.

Riley stared down at me. “Why do you have to be so damn alluring?”

I blinked.
What the…?

He smiled, a slow grin that spread across his face, lighting it up. And then he rolled
his eyes and turned to face the front, leaning his head against the seat. His hand
tightened around my balled fists, and I took a deep breath.

If I was so attractive, why the hell did he leave me high and dry that night?

The drive wasn’t long, thank God. We sat in uncomfortable silence. Perhaps he didn’t
want to speak in front of his driver.

I tried to relax and stared out the window, but I saw nothing. My entire focus centered
on the long fingers dangling against my inner thighs, occasionally stroking the sensitive
skin there.

When we pulled up to Sky, Riley gave my hands a gentle squeeze and finally released
me. The damage was done, however. My panties were wet, and a ball of need had grown
incrementally between my legs as we’d driven.

Riley eased from the car first and reached to help me.

I flushed as I scooted closer to the door, silently berating myself for choosing this
particular dress. This was my fit-to-kill outfit. What the hell was I thinking wearing
it out with Riley?

It was too short, too tight, too sexy. I didn’t want to feel sexy. I wanted to go
back home where I was safe from men like Riley who could spike my arousal and then
walk away. I had begun to abhor being as horny as I was right then, especially since
the only man who brought out that side of me was Riley, and the bastard could do so
without being in the room. He’d managed to control my body on many occasions in the
last six months, and I’d never once seen or heard from him.

Goddamn it.

By the time I stood on the sidewalk next to this imposing man who loomed over me at
over six feet, I was pissed. More with myself and my inability to control my reactions
to him than anything else.

“You okay?” he asked, tipping his head to one side, his brows furrowed.

“Of course,” I lied.

Riley hesitated for a moment, gazing at my face. Finally, he sighed and took my hand,
turning to head into the bar.

All my attention focused on the feel of his fingers gently wrapped around mine. His
grip was softer than it had been in the car. And he stroked his thumb over the back
of my knuckles, distracting me maddeningly.