The Player's Club: Finn (11 page)

“It’s not important,” replied Finn, hoping that his lucky streak hadn’t finally and dramatically run out.

PARIS. SKYDIVING. Disneyland, for God’s sake.

Two days and one massive migraine later, Diana was at the Macalister company gym, at midnight, running on the treadmill as if she could somehow sprint away from the craziness that was the Player’s Club.

She was the only one in the gym. The only one in the building, as far as she knew, other than the security guards. She didn’t pull late nights as much as she used to, admittedly, especially during her first years proving herself as a lawyer at Macalister Enterprises. Now, however, she was closing out everything on her desk to take time out for a month’s worth of traveling and those idiotic challenges.

As high a priority as Thorn was making of her going along with the charade, that weird little accounting hiccup wasn’t going to solve itself, and if that Victor character told her one more time that he was working on it, she would squeeze his neck until his head popped off. She punched a button to speed up the treadmill.

Damn it. Damn it all.

She was the Hammer, wasn’t she? She was the one who was supposed to have ice water in her veins. Yet something about Finn made her run hot, she admitted…which also made her admit how much that bothered her.

After five miles, she slowed down, got off the treadmill, still feeling tied in knots. She needed…something. A vacation. A massage.

A good sweaty roll in the hay.

She rubbed her towel over the back of her neck, puzzling over the exact date she’d last let any man have carnal knowledge of her. She thought maybe it was spring. Or was it fall?

It bothered her that she couldn’t remember.

“You looked like The Terminator, there on the treadmill.”

Her neck made a snapping sound as she whipped her head up, her heart pounding. When she saw it was Finn, she forced herself to rein in her surprise.

“Speak of the devil,” she said in a calm tone of voice, even though her pulse was still racing. “I didn’t expect to see you here, much less this late at night.” She paused for a beat. “Stealing something?”

“Ouch,” he said, coming to stand next to her. “I, on the other hand, am not at all shocked to find you here. And yeah, I was looking for you…so here I am.”

He was wearing his usual jeans and T-shirt. She felt vulnerable, wearing only her low-riding sweats and running bra. She was normally wearing something far more professional, a skirt suit that seemed to act like a suit of armor. She took a liberal gulp of water from her bottle. “Okay, you found me. What do you want?”

He smiled, his eyes gleaming with humor, although his look sent heat through her from head to foot. Suddenly, she was grateful the gym was air-conditioned.

“You’ve avoided my calls,” he said, in a low voice. He was standing close, too close. Was he doing it to make her uncomfortable?

“I’ve been busy.” Her voice barely bobbled, and she prayed he didn’t notice.

His grin suggested he had noticed. “I seem to remember your boss saying this was your top priority.”

“My boss says a lot of things.” She recalled the conversation they’d had after Finn had left the room. “He means a lot of other things, too. And no matter what he said, I’m not letting the ball drop on my real job to go running around with a bunch of trust-fund brats with more money than sense.”

Finn’s expression tightened, then he shrugged. “We’ll see if you hold that same opinion once you’ve gone through the challenges.”

“You just don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when it’s important to me,” he said. “We need to talk.”

She felt a little shiver of awareness. “I…I need a shower.”

“I’ll wait.” He didn’t touch her, but his smooth raw voice was like a caress. She shivered again, tried to blame the air-conditioning even as her body said
Hey, it’s late, nobody’s around....

Oh, no. She needed to shut that thought down.

“I’ll take your calls in the morning,” she said, and cursed the fact that she sounded breathless. “Seriously, Finn. I promise. You should…you should go home. Or to the Club, or something.”

He shot a quick glance at the treadmill, then at her. “What are you running from?”

“I’m not running from anything,” she shot back, not realizing until then that she’d already made it halfway to the locker room. “I’m… I just… You confuse me, Finn. You’re not really what I expected.”

He smiled, and she felt another shiver. “I’m glad. Not just for the sake of the Club. I find you very, very interesting, Diana.”

She flushed, noticing the way his T-shirt was pulled tightly across his body, the way his abs were ripped, and his shoulders…

Oh, yeah, you so need to have sex.

“Okay. Yes. I’m running,” she muttered. “Good night, Finn.”

She retreated to the women’s locker room. She tried to collect her thoughts as she stripped out of her clothes. The water in the shower was hot and pulsing, and utterly not helping.

She took the world’s quickest shower, intent on getting home, although she still felt hot enough to melt a glacier. She turned the corner, only a towel wrapped around her body, and saw Finn.

She squeaked. “What the hell!”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But…I’m going to do this one thing, and then I’ll leave. If you feel the need to beat the crap out of me, I will totally respect that, okay?”

“Wha—”

In a quick, fluid motion, he stepped forward, pressing his lips to hers.

It was like a brushfire. It seemed like the tiniest spark…and all of a sudden, the conflagration went up quicker than smoke. She should’ve been angrier. She should’ve been whipping out all her lawyer-ese on his ass, threatening him with jail time, sexual harassment, whatever. But she was too tired, too stirred up. Sensing her vulnerability, her body pulled a coup. Tonight, her hormones ruled.

She groaned, leaning into him, his hands surprisingly strong and weathered, gripping her upper arms. He backed her up against the nearest lockers. She felt her towel start to drop.

She didn’t care.

He gasped against her mouth, his hands rubbed down her arms to her now-naked hips. He pulled her tight to him, and she could feel the delicious hard bulge straining against the fly of his jeans. She groaned again softly, stroking her pebble-hard nipples against the thin fabric of his T-shirt.

He pulled away only long enough to tug his shirt off, then he went to her. He threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling her against him so his mouth could plunder hers.

Yes,
plunder,
she felt invaded, but in the best possible way. Her body prepared for the onslaught.

She shoved aside any small whimpers from her logical mind—she’d deal with consequences tomorrow. Tonight, she was too ready and too damned hot. She needed this.

She was
taking
this.

Her hands slipped down his sexy, chiseled torso; she sought out and found the top button of his jeans. With quick movements, never breaking the kiss, she undid his pants. His erection was hard, velvety smooth and hot as an iron. She stroked him lovingly, shivering when he groaned against her lips.

“Diana,” he rasped, leaving kisses on her chin, her cheek and her neck.

She couldn’t wait another moment and shoved his jeans down past his hips.

“Diana, are you sure?”

“Don’t ask,” she said, and before either of them could think, she slung one knee over the hard, cut line of his hip. And watched his hazel eyes go dark with passion.

He lifted her, her legs wrapping easily around his waist. The cold metal lockers were a shock against her naked back, but in a second she didn’t care. She wriggled, arching her back as he took one breast into his mouth, then switched his attention to the other. Now she was almost snarling with need.

“Please,” she begged, barely coherent. “Inside me…”

He moved his hand between them, positioning himself, and she felt the blunt, broad tip of him. She almost wept with gratitude.

With one smooth, powerful glide, he thrust inside, and she spasmed, coming in an instant, letting out a low, shrill shriek.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

She was still clutching him, her body still tingling deliciously. “No,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. “No, I just came.”

“Really? I hope you don’t think you’re done with me.” His low chuckle sent more pulses of heat from where they were joined, radiating out to every inch of her body.

She smiled. How could he make her feel like laughing at a time like this? “Yeah, I’ve got my ticket punched, I guess I can…”

He surged forward, making further speech impossible. She gripped his shoulders as he moved like a dancer, finding a sensuous, irresistible rhythm. A minute later, she felt her body start to climax again, felt the familiar anticipation working its way through her.

The rumors were true—Finn was a master. She felt like a plucked guitar string, vibrating, all but singing with the pleasure of it. She urged him deeper, her feet crossing at the small of his back as she ground against his spear-hard erection. Her breasts bounced and rubbed against his hard chest. He leaned down, kissing her as he held her, his cock moving swiftly in and out of her. She bit his neck and he jolted, hitting her just in the right spot. The friction, the rhythm, the pleasure…

The first orgasm had been like a gunshot. This was like an explosion. He pumped into her, forceful, and she loved it. Then he shuddered, collapsing against her, breathing ragged. He shifted her, cushioning her between himself and the wall of lockers.

“Amazing,” he eventually croaked, after they both had caught their breath.

Right about then, with the primal part of her brain sex-sated and sleepy, the logical part got free…and mentally smacked her.

Oh, crap.
She hadn’t just made a mistake. She’d created a disaster.

7

“SHE’S ONTO US, I’M telling you.” Victor spoke hoarsely. “We’re screwed.”

George chuckled. They were at Jonesy’s place this time, a sweet penthouse, even if it was over in the Mission. “So Diana’s been asking you some questions. She noticed some discrepancies. So what?”

“She understands accounting, which is more than I can say for you two,” Victor spat out. He’d taken off his suit coat, and the armpits of his dress shirt were stained. The guy was a wreck. “She’s going to put this together. We’ve got about a month to stop everything and fix this so nobody ever finds out. We’ve got to abort.”

“Say, now,” Jonesy said, coming from the kitchen and handing George a drink. “What’s this? Nobody’s stopping anything.”

Victor’s look of disgust was intense. “You’re not the one with anything on the line,
Jonesy
. I don’t even know what you’re doing in this in the first place!”

Jonesy’s smile was feral, and Victor shrank back.

“I’m the man with the plan, aren’t I?” Jonesy took a swig of his whiskey. “And the one with a calm head, it seems. Left to your devices, Vic, I don’t think you could steal a pack of gum. How’d you get involved in all this, anyway?”

Victor risked a quick, ugly scowl at him.

George took a sip of his martini—dry as the Mojave, just the way he liked it. “Vic’s got gambling debts, it turns out.”

“Tsk, tsk. Nasty habit, that.” Jonesy shook his head. “And I’ll bet it’d be hard to keep a job at a place like Macalister, when word of
that
got out, eh?”

Victor’s face turned beet-red. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Like you said, mate…not my ass on the line.” Jonesy cheersed him with his drink. “Can I get you a Cosmo? Or…let’s see, I have vodka and Gatorade, I think. Close enough—you look frightful.”

Victor gritted his teeth.

George stepped in. “Why a month, Victor? What’s going on?”

Victor shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s going on a vacation or something.”