CHAPTER SEVEN
Gracie doubted she’d ever be the same again. Sure, her heart rate would eventually return to normal and her sex would cease its delightful aftershocks. The sheen of sweat on her skin would dry. But she was different somehow…and she wasn’t so sure she felt comfortable with a change she couldn’t quite identify.
Especially one brought on by a man she barely knew.
Ironic, since she wrote about this very thing under the name of Raven Sylk. She thought she knew about erotic romance. Hell, she spent plenty of time researching and writing about it.
Clearly she’d been ignorant about her subject matter.
This man curled around her, his thigh over her legs in a possessive manner, had taken her to places she’d never known existed.
He nipped her shoulder. “You okay, my fantastic woman?” His voice purred in her ears.
“Yeah. I’m—”
Someone pounded on the door. “Webb? It’s Coop. You in there?”
Webb placed a finger over her lips in a shushing manner. “Yeah. I’m here. Wh…what time is it, man. I fell asleep.”
Listen to how easily he lies.
“It’s eight-twenty. Management is getting pissed, you making them wait like this. Why aren’t you answering your cell?”
“Oh hell, I turned it off so I could get some sleep. Listen, I pulled a back muscle tackling that purse snatcher earlier and went for a massage. Came back here, took some pain relievers, and fell asleep.” His palm skimmed her side as he pulled her closer. “Tell them I’ll be down as soon as I take a quick shower and get dressed. Is that woman there yet? The one I rescued?”
She shot him a dirty look.
“Nope. She’s a no show, too.”
“Shit. I was supposed to go get her. Guess I better give her a call. Tell the Dares I’m sorry. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
“Shake a leg, would ya? The press just walked in. Did you know you rescued a big time college basketball coach? All the media’s talking about it, anxious to see the two of you together. Get your ass in gear.”
He rolled on top of her and smiled. “On it.”
“You are so bad,” she mouthed.
“Yes, but I’m so good at being bad,” his lips moved against her lips as his cock lengthened against her abdomen. He reached for a condom packet. “A quickie, baby, just to take hold me through the meeting.”
He kissed her and stroked her, working her into a fevered pitch before he plunged into her. The words he murmured into her ear heated every part of her body. She dug her fingernails into his back as a climax ripped through her. He collapsed and whispered her name over and over until their breathing returned to normal.
Then reality hit.
“I can’t go to that thing with your boss. You tore my dress. I don’t even know what I’m going to wear to get back to my room.” Holy hell, she was in a mess.
He sighed and placed his forehead against hers. “There’s a boutique here. What size do you wear? I’ll order you something. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He reached over and picked up the receiver to the hotel phone. “What size?”
“Eight and whatever you get has to go with gold heels.”
“Okay.” His finger extended to press a number.
“I’ll also need mascara, eye shadow and lipstick.”
His forehead wrinkled. “Do they come in colors? Makeup’s not exactly my thing, sweetheart.”
She should have known that. “Yes, tell the lady I have black hair, brown eyes, and pale skin. She can use that info to choose.”
He nodded and reached out again. She grabbed his arm inked in a bold tribal design.
“I’ll need a comb. Oh, and see if they carry a nice floral perfume. I use Touch of Pink, but they might not stock it.”
He released a deep sigh of annoyance. “Touch of Pink. That’s it?”
She shook her finger at him. “No pants because I’m so tall.”
His lips quirked. “Anything else?”
“Underwear would be nice.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to make this call?”
“No, go ahead. Whatever you order will be fine. I’m taking a quick shower.” Webb moved off her and she removed her heels before hurrying into the bathroom. She’d go with anything he ordered for her. Frankly, at this point, as long as her boobs and ass were covered she’d be happy.
She piled her hair on top of her head, wrapped a towel around the tangled mass, and stepped under the hot spray.
Webb showered while she waited in a white terrycloth robe for some clothes to arrive. A knock sounded followed by “Boutique Delivery.” She opened the door, signed the slip, and took the glossy floral decorated box.
She placed it on the bed, removed the lid, and flicked back the tissue paper. Inside was a gray stretchy cocktail dress with cap sleeves, a high neckline, and an open back to just below her waist. It had a handkerchief hem that accommodated most heights. It was perfect. There were two pair of black thongs along with gold dangly earrings and a cuff bracelet. A small bag held her make-up and comb. There was also a gift box of Touch of Pink lotion and perfume.
She was pleased with how she looked. Maybe she ought to have the person working at the boutique pick out a few more things for her.
As soon as they were dressed and striding for the elevator, Webb slid his hand down her bare back. “I better give you a warning.”
“About what? If you’re going to tell me my butt looks big in this dress, I’ll coldcock you.”
He leaned back and shot her ass a glance. “Looks good to me, babe. No, what I wanted to tell you about is the team’s management is trying to clean up my image. They consider my behavior damn near debauched, so I’m on probation.”
She glared at him in question. “Probation?” Great, what all had he done? She knew all too well the privileged mentality of athletes.
“Yeah. No drinking, no wild car rides, and no women for a month. After that I can date again.”
He pushed the button for the elevator.
She didn’t know whether to be pissed or amused. “Then how would you classify what just happened back in your room? Clearly it wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t an observance of celibacy either.”
He tried to pull her into an embrace, but she balked. His hand cupped her face. “That was you and your effect on me. And while I’m laying things out in the open, here’s more of the truth.”
She crossed her arms and waited. Unease had nerves bouncing in her stomach like crazed Ping-Pong balls.
“Management set up a photo op scene for me. Something to make me look like a better person. There was supposed to be a woman who had her red purse stolen. My job was to chase down the thief.” The elevator doors slid open and they both stepped on. “You got in the way. I rescued the wrong woman. I’m glad I did, but management went into a major hissy fit. That’s why I kept getting those texts.”
Well, wasn’t this just dandy?
Gracie slid to the back of the elevator. When he went to join her, she extended her hand in a stop gesture. “Leave me alone while I process all this.” So, Webb wasn’t a hero. He’d mistakenly saved her purse for a photo op. The sex was just a prelude to a long dry spell. If she were as broad as she was tall, it wouldn’t have made a difference. She still would have ended up in his room and fucked until her eyes rolled back in her head.
She fiddled with golden bangles and sighed with regret. Would she ever stop screwing up with men? Crap, she’d made a spectacle of herself in the elevator in front of Dondi Gable. Their meeting tomorrow ought to be downright humiliating. So much for getting her as an agent. Dondi would never take her on, no matter how great her sales had been lately.
The elevator reached the lobby and the doors opened. Women flocked on as Webb reached for her elbow to assist her. She jerked away. “I don’t need your help, thank you very much.”
“No need to turn into an ice queen either,” he snapped.
Once they were in the wide, marble columned corridor, she turned to him. “I don’t think you should touch me or get that close during this charade of a press conference or meeting or whatever the heck it is. We’re supposed to be strangers. I’ll play the part of the grateful woman to your valiant, heroic efforts and then I’ll be done.”
Damn, she was pissed and hurt. And who was she most angry with—the hunk in front of her or herself? So they’d had sex. Mind-blowing sex. Unforgettable sex. Big deal. It didn’t mean anything, certainly not to him. She sighed and looked away. If she’d allowed her emotions to enter into the casual sexual interlude, then she was the idiot.
And how pathetic is that?
He splayed his palm against her midriff and backed her against a wall. His other arm rested over her head. “What do you mean you’ll be done? Wasn’t I honest with you? I explained everything so you wouldn’t walk into the club and be blindsided.”
His cologne floated through her lungs like a life force. She inhaled it as if her existence depended on retaining its masculine, virile scent. His head lowered and his lips brushed where her neck joined her shoulder.
“Whatever has you upset, we’ll iron out after all this is over. I don’t intend on giving you up.” He backed away and she pivoted toward the club on trembling legs.
Surely he didn’t mean a word of what he’d just said. Besides, she’d heard for herself how easily and convincingly he lied. Had the truth ever tumbled from this bad boy’s lips? And there it was! Another bad boy charges into my life—and look what happens.
They strode into the club and to the private room Webb told her the owner of the hotel had reserved for the meeting…spectacle…whatever. Their shoulders barely touched as they walked, but the heat of his dominance reached her core nonetheless.
A jumbled chorus of “it’s about damn time” and “what the hell took you so long” greeted them. Webb lied his way out of their tardiness with a smiling, easygoing sincerity that was as genuine as her bargain designer-look heels. Lying and his lips were obviously intimate friends.
Someone placed a flute of champagne in her hand and welcomed her. Pictures were taken with her and the fibbing hero. Interviews were given. The press asked her more questions about her team and its prospects for next year than they did about the running back next to her. And while the team’s management tried to get the press back on point, they were more interested in her, the female coach of a male collegiate team than another misbehaving football player.
Hell, the reporters even noticed she was wearing the team’s colors—gray and gold—and teased her about her signature gold heels she always wore to the games.
She’d figured at the beginning of her coaching career she should have a unique style, to outshine the ridicule about her having no place as the coach of a men’s team. In her opinion, what better way to do it than wearing in-your-face-gold-stilettoes and sporting a shimmering gold mani and pedi?For her, it had worked. There’d been less talk about her sex and more about her heels. Men were so idiotic about some things.
Speaking of which …
Webb’s clenched jaw certainly showed his displeasure. She’d promised to help him with this event to improve his image. Things weren’t exactly going his way.
She smiled at the reporters. “You know, the real story here is the man willing to help a stranger. A muscled, fast-as-hell, good Samaritan.” She patted his forearm and favored him with a broad smile. “I know he’s strong by the effortless way he lifted me off the sidewalk after the robbing punk knocked me down. And he had no clue I was a basketball coach.”
“I did notice she had nice legs, though.” Webb grinned and she elbowed him. Flashes went off and the room erupted in laughter.
“I am so through with talking. Mr. Mohanty, tell them what you were thinking when you got your hands on that slimy thief.” Gracie sat and sipped at another flute of champagne, happy her part of this dog and pony show was over.
Webb handled the press with his irascible charm once she stepped out of the picture. Reporters shot him a few questions about his past behavior, which he didn’t deny or find excuses for. The honesty about his antics surprised her. He claimed he’d made a mistake of leaving the SEALs and going directly into football without taking time out to seek therapy for his PTSD. As a result, he’d been reckless and thoughtless—even immature—in his behavior.
His team’s management seemed shocked.
Not as surprised as she. Was he being honest or singing a finely tuned song of lies?
He went on to say he was staying in New York City under the advice of Gabe Dare, who had secured a psychologist with a specialty in post war emotional illness. Plans were in place for heavy back-to-back therapy sessions so he’d be more in control before football practices began.
“I owe a debt of gratitude to Gabe Dare for somehow figuring out what my real problem was.” His gaze went to Mr. Dare and he lifted his water glass in toast. “Thanks, man. I know I’m an ass at times, but you might be saving this ass’s life.”
Gabe nodded. “Hey, it takes an ass to know one. Dr. Paul is eager to start working with you. The man loves a challenge and we all fucking know you’ve been one for us.” The guests laughed and made raucous remarks.
Maybe Webb was being honest. Gracie was both shocked and proud of Webb’s openness about his downfalls. Even if he was putting on an act for the press, he was doing so in a seemingly heartfelt manner. She stood and slipped out the side door.
Her brief interlude with the team’s bad boy was over. Time to refocus on the three things that had brought her to New York. First was the RWA convention and her search for an agent. Second was speaking to potential team players for Mount Vista College. Finally, a night of research at a BDSM club in Manhattan that her critic partner had arranged for her.