Chapter Twenty-Three
Kya
I threw myself into the min golf game as if each hole would get me farther from the disaster with Fenton. I knew I hurt, but the champagne and silly game helped. Jackson smiled and laughed and everything was easy. He was not opposed to my job, he even knew some of the same people, and I did not feel like every time I brought it up I was detonating a bomb.
"So, Lawrence was not lying about your golf ability," Jackson said.
"Well, he's the one that taught me to putt, so I guess I owe this success to him," I said.
"Oh, so that's where you got that funny grip from."
"What funny grip?" I asked.
Jackson stood behind me and slipped his arms around me. "Not that many golfers thread their fingers together. Though, you make it work and you make it look good."
I laughed. "Mr. McRay, you're trying to distract me. You know if I sink this last putt, I win."
"No, I would never do that," he said with a wink. "I was just trying to find an excuse to get my hands on you."
I felt the warmth of his smile reflected in my cheeks. Then, I turned to concentrate on the putt. There was no reason I could not put the entire Fenton disaster behind me. With Jackson, I was on sure footing. He was flirting, but everything was open and easy.
"You won!" Jackson said. "Now, I suppose I owe you lunch."
"No," I said. "Lunch is on me, if you let me pitch a new vitamin supplement campaign to you."
"I'm buying, I lost fair and square. And I was hoping we could talk about business. Though, I gotta be honest, I don't mind mixing business and pleasure. Can we still call it a date?" Jackson asked.
I smiled and nodded.
"Then, it’s a date. I'll pick you up in the lobby in an hour?"
We agreed, and he gave me a soft kiss on the cheek before we parted. I found my way back inside and could not come up with a good reason to avoid my suite. I thought about showering in the hotel spa, but I could not justify spending one more cent of my boss' money.
Everything was quiet when I entered the luxury suite. The dishes had been cleared from our breakfast, the pillows were no longer strewn on the floor in front of the fireplace, and the door to Fenton's room was wide open. I glanced inside and cringed at the sight of a bright orange dress flung over the foot of the bed. His guest was definitely staying.
I crept into the master bedroom and locked myself in the bathroom. Despite the pleasant distractions of the morning, I burst into tears. I started the shower and let a few sobs escape. It hurt too much to ignore when I was alone. How could Fenton do that to me? He had been so tender, so entirely mine, we had made love twice. How I had been so mistaken? How had I let myself be so used?
The searing hot shower washed away my tears, and I stood under the spray telling myself I was going to be fine. I was fine. As an adult woman, I could handle having casual sex whether or not I put too much meaning into it. It was my mistake and when I saw Fenton, all I had to do was pretend it did not matter. It should not have mattered, but all alone in the shower, I leaned against the wall and let it hurt.
"Kya?" There was a hard crash against the bathroom door. "Why is the door locked? Kya?"
"What do you want, Fenton?" My voice was too harsh.
"Are you okay? Where did you disappear to? Let me in," he called.
I gripped the shower curtain with white knuckles. "I went down to the pool to relax for a while. Then, I got distracted with work. I've got to get ready and go to a meeting," I said.
I listened hard, but did not hear a response. Of course, he would not care what I was doing with the rest of my day. I scrubbed my hair hard, buffed my body with a loofah, and rinsed clean. I wrapped the towel around me and yanked open the door, determined to get dressed and out of the suite as fast as possible.
"Fenton! You scared me!" I clutched the small towel harder. "I thought you left."
"And, miss you all hot and wet from the shower? No way," Fenton said.
I reached back into the bathroom and carefully pulled an oversized white robe around myself. "A little privacy, please?"
He stepped up to the threshold of the bathroom and left me pinned between him and the door. He tipped his head as he laser blue eyes searched mine. "What is the matter? Something's wrong."
"Nothing," I said. "I just have a busy day. You are not the only athlete in Vegas, you know."
"Alright," he agreed. He stepped back but kept his eyes riveted to me. "Did you get a chance to meet Dana Maria before you left this morning?"
The other woman's name was like lighting a fuse. I tried to keep myself from exploding. "Yes. I answered the door."
He waited for me to say more, but saw that I bit my lip. "What? You have something to say about her?"
"What's to say, Fenton? Really." I shook my head and tried to shut the bathroom door in his face.
"I didn't think you'd be so judgmental. So she's an exotic dancer, that doesn't mean she isn't a good person," he said.
"A good person? That has nothing to do with it. She has nothing to do with it," I said.
Fenton crossed his arms. "Yes she does. Dana Maria matters to me. If I'm going to stay here, then she has to be welcome, too."
I shoved him back and slammed the bathroom door in his face. "Do whatever you like. The suite is yours."
"What is the matter with you, Kya?" He kicked the bathroom door. "I thought you were different. I thought there was someone underneath that country club shell."
"Yeah? Well, I thought there was a gentleman under your trash talk and stubble. I guess we were both wrong." I zipped up a white linen dress and tied the sash too tight. My hands shook as I clasped a string of pearls around my neck, but I refused to let that stop me. My curls were springy up wild, but all I did was tuck a white headband into place. I had to get away from Fenton before my temper tore me apart.
I whipped the bathroom door open. "Some people like the way I dress," I said.
Fenton's angry blue eyes swept down the V-neck dress to the tight white sash. Then, he lunged forward and caught me in his arms. His kiss was hard, hungry, and relentless. "I like the way you look, but I like what's underneath better," he growled.
His lips melded to mine and my futile pushes turned into a hard grip on his shoulders. I was hurt and angry and suddenly, so turned on. My entire body wanted to have him at my mercy, to feel him shuddering inside me.
I shook my head and broke free of his hold. "I have a lunch meeting."
"I'm late for the gym," he said.
He stormed out of the suite ahead of me. I rode downstairs in the elevator alone, smoothing my hair down. Fenton's kiss had left me on fire. I was jealous that he could take it out on punching bags and sparring partners. Instead, I had to sit at lunch and smile politely.
"Is that a little sunburn I see?" Jackson asked. He met me just outside the elevator and slipped my hand into the crook of his arm.
I willed the hot blush to dissipate and smiled up at my well-mannered date. "I'm just a little warm."
"Well, I got us a table inside so you can cool off in the air-conditioning." He led me into the hotel's high-end restaurant, where a table was waiting for us.
"Thank you," I said, sitting down as he held the chair out for me. "You didn't need to go to any trouble."
"I love the salmon here," he said.
"Then, how about I let you order while I get my pitch out of the way?" I asked. "It's always nicer to get business done before the food arrives."
"Alright, Ms. Allen, let's hear it." He sat forward and fixed his brown eyes on mine.
"There's actually not too much to it," I said. "Our agency represents a vitamin supplement company and they are looking for a long-term endorsement. Your magazine covers and publicity are just the sort of kickoff hype they were hoping for, but whatever exposure you decide you want in the future is fine with them. Really, all they ask is that you were a discreetly placed logo, share a testimonial of the product, and show brand loyalty."
"Doesn't sound too taxing." Jackson reached for my hand. "Are there any catches?"
"Just the non-compete. All they ask is that you do not sign on with any other vitamin or diet supplements in the future. All other product endorsements are fine, they just want their niche secure," I said. "If you think about it, that does not exclude you from any big money or brand name deals. It's a sound investment, a steady agreement, and a mutually beneficial contract."
"Well said, well-pitched," he said. The waiter came over and Jackson apologized for the interruption then ordered for us both.
While he ran through his choices with the waiter, I tried not to fume. It was the first time I had run through my pitch since landing in Las Vegas. It was a solid deal and saying it out loud only made me angrier at Fenton. His stubborn need to be a lone wolf was keeping him from a good investment and me from completing the task I had been given. I wondered if he was doing it just to challenge me. Everything Fenton did seemed designed to chip at my exterior and get under my skin. Was that why he threw the stripper in my face? Was it some kind of test to see if I was able to keep my cool? If so, I had failed miserably.
"Is that the same pitch you gave Fenton Morris?" Jackson asked.
I blinked my eyes, scared for a moment he had read my mind, but he had just finished with the waiter. "No, actually, I never even pitched him. Mr. Morris is not business inclined."
"A very diplomatic answer and another way Mr. Morris and I are completely different." Jackson hitched his chair closer to mine. "I appreciate a sound business deal and I am more than happy to sign your endorsement deal."
"Excellent," I said. "Here, let me send you the forms. That way we can get everything done before the salads arrive."
Jackson leaned in to watch as I sent him a series of emails and attachments. While he admired my quick work on my phone, and the plunging V-neck of my white dress, I caught sight of Fenton across the hotel lobby. It was impossible to miss him with Dana Maria tight on his arm in the blaze orange dress I had seen earlier.
"Quick work and a leisurely lunch. I like your style, Kya Allen," Jackson said.
"Thank you. And, trust me, you can consider yourself the complete opposite of Fenton Morris," I said.
Jackson's hand brushed the hem of my skirt and found my bare knee. "I hope so. Because there is no way I can play hard to get like him. I'm very upfront and honest about what I want."
I did not move my knee away from the tickling circles he traced. "And, what is it that you want, Mr. McRay? As your agent, I'm here to help," I said.
"I want you on a real date with me tonight. No business. Strictly pleasure."