Chapter Six

 

My heart lurched at the sound of a familiar deep voice. I turned. A drip of orange juice splashed onto my hand. I ignored it.

Nathan Walker stood before me wearing a white open-necked shirt and black jeans. As was his habit, his hands were shoved into the pockets of his denims and his feet set hip-width apart.

I gulped. “What are you doing here?” His sudden presence was a slap to my emotions.

“Taking up a friend on his kind invite to a Christmas party.”

“Ben asked you here?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t he? I told you, we’re mates.” He stepped closer, reached past me—his arm almost brushing my ear—and set his palm on the snug door. “Let’s go in here.” He pushed it wide. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t think so.” Damn it, I could smell his cologne, which was divine and reminded me of the kiss we’d shared.

“It wasn’t a request, Sophie, you owe me a couple of explanations.”

“For what?”

“Why were you at the stadium yesterday?”

“I’d forgotten something. I had to collect it from Ben’s office.”

“And you accidently stumbled into the rink?”

“Yes, the place is a labyrinth.”

“And your excuse for running off? Even though I know damn well you heard me call you. Why’d you do that?”

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t begin to articulate why I’d run like a teenager having an emotional meltdown.

“Silence, great. Okay, onto the second explanation. Why are you ignoring my calls?

I pressed my lips together, knowing I was being childish but really just wanting the floor to open up and swallow me.

“We’d agreed to go on a second date.” His voice had softened. “How the hell is that gonna happen if you won’t communicate with me?”

“I don’t want to communicate with you. I thought maybe you’d get the hint that I don’t want a second date.”

He lowered his face to mine. “Hint. You really think I’m the kind of guy to give up so easily?”

“You’ll have to.”

“No. Not a chance.” He paused, and his eyeline sank down my body, hovering on my breasts and the slight flare of my hips. “When we kissed there was something special there, you must have felt it, too.” He set his attention on my eyes again. “And in the bar…I can’t remember ever enjoying someone’s company so much. You intrigue me. You’re so like me but not. I want to get to know you better, Sophie, and you made me think the feeling was mutual.”

My mouth was dry, my breaths coming quick. He was right, I did want to get to know him better, and his hot body, that I would seriously like to get to know better, but I had to protect my heart—and my sanity.

“What’d I do wrong?” he asked. “Have I got bad breath? You don’t like how I kiss, how I smell, the way I dress? Maybe I don’t look good in the shower.”

“No, no, of course not, none of that.” Why’d he have to bring up the shower? As if I wasn’t feeling flustered enough.

“So you’re saying you like how I kiss?” He raised his eyebrows. “And how I look in the shower?”

I sighed. “Okay, let’s take this conversation into the snug.”

His lips curled into a triumphant smile.

I glanced around, hoping Ben wasn’t about to see me slipping into his snug with the man he’d told me to steer clear of.

Luckily he wasn’t in sight; in fact, no one was. The snug was at the back of the house, and like most parties, guests had drifted toward the kitchen, which luckily was huge.

I stepped into the quiet room. It had a flat-screen TV on the wall, several bookshelves, a low burgundy sofa, and a small oak table which held a pile of medical journals.

Nathan shut the door with a soft click.

The silence was deafening, and I wrung my hands together and turned to him.

He folded his arms and puffed up his chest. It was clear he was waiting for me to start.

“You never told me you were married,” I said.

“I’m not.”

“In the past tense, you never told me that you were married.”

“And why would I on a first date? It was hardly the marriage of the century.”

“Why did you split up?”

“Sophie.” He stepped up to me. “Is that why you refused to take my calls? Because I have a past?”

“Not just a past, there’s also a present, but we’ll come to that in a minute.”

“Present?” He frowned and shook his head. “And you don’t have a history, past relationships?”

“No, not really.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m too damn busy.”

“Ah, I can see how that could happen with you.” He walked over to the sofa and sat. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees and looked up at me. He pulled in a deep breath then blew it out. “I was married for a month and one day.”

“Really? Why such a short time?”

“Wendy, that’s her name, decided she liked my best friend from college better than me. I came home on the thirty-second day of our marriage and caught them in bed together. I haven’t spoken to either of them since. The lawyers handled everything.”

A streak of pain crossed his eyes. I only just spotted it before he hung his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry. See, that’s why I didn’t tell you. It’s pretty damn humiliating, and the last thing I wanted was for you to feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t.”

He looked up at me again.

I bit my lip, then, “I mean, I’m sorry that it happened. But I don’t feel sorry for you.”

“Good. I don’t need pity.”

“And this was recent?”

“Five months ago. The divorce is through. Money expedites things.”

I nodded and walked to the window. The curtains were open, and I stared out at the side lawn cast in shadows. Images of all the other women in the article flashed through my mind.

“Sophie.” I sensed him standing then saw his reflection behind mine. “What did you mean by present?”

I sighed. I didn’t really want to confess I’d Googled him. It seemed a bit stalkerish, but he deserved the truth about why I’d done what I had, plus telling the truth wasn’t something I usually hid from, no matter how hard. “There’s the blonde with the red dress, the one you went to the charity ball with, Rachel someone or other.” I turned, wanting to see his face when I listed his string of women. “And—”

“Rachel?” he interrupted then paused. “Yeah, she’s a friend, she also has a very rich father who pays off her credit card each month. Taking her as my plus one was good for the charity. She spent a lot of money on Viper memorabilia. But I’m not dating her, and I haven’t seen her since that night.”

I frowned. “Okay, what about that actress, Naomi Teller? You’re dating her, right?”

“Dating Naomi?” He shook his head. “Where are you getting this from?”

It was my turn to glance away.

“Sophie.” He gently crooked his finger beneath my chin and turned me to face him again. “Talk to me. Let’s sort this out.”

“I…I looked you up, on the web.”

“You did?” He released my chin and ran his hand over his hair. “I guess that explains everything.”

“It’s left you with some explaining to do. You really think I want to date a man who’s currently linked to so many other women?” I put my hands on my hips then dropped them to my sides, not wanting to appear like a strict school marm.

His eyebrows pulled low. “I am?” He shook his head. “I mean I’m not…dating any other woman.”

I waited for him to continue.

He pulled out his cell. “You just put my name into Google, right?”

“Yes.” I wasn’t particularly proud that I had.

“Okay.” He tapped the screen a few times then flashed it my way so I could see the search results. “Which article did you read?”

“The Huffington Post.” I turned back to the window. The evidence was there; I couldn’t see how he could dispute it.

He was quiet for a moment, his head bowed as he read the article.

My pulse thudded in my ears, and I linked my fingers together, squeezing my knuckles so tight they hurt.

He stepped up to me and held the phone so we could both see the screen. “Okay, so this is Rachel, the one you’ve got your panties in a twist about, right?”

“I have not got my panties in a—”

“Rachel is a friend, nothing more, I told you that. Naomi is also a friend. We did a Nike commercial together a few years ago, realized we had a lot in common, and stayed in touch. We went for dinner after my divorce because I needed someone to talk to. She’s currently dating a Hollywood A-lister, but that’s top secret.” He scrolled down the screen. “This picture they’ve dug up is of Wendy, my ex.”

“Okay.” I swallowed. I believed him about Naomi and Rachel, and it was clear his ex was no longer on the scene. “But who is this pretty brunette, at the stadium?”

“Jeez.” He chuckled. “It would be more than my life is worth to make a move on that one.”

“Why?”

“She belongs to Rick Lewis, the team captain. I can stand up to most guys, but he’d scare the shit out of me if he decided to take a swing. And if he thought I had intentions with Dana, yeah, he’d take a swing.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Must have been some pap in the stadium lot. I haven’t seen it before.” He turned to me and rested his hand on my shoulder. “This is fake news, Sophie. I wish you hadn’t bothered to read it.”

I pulled in a breath. I hadn’t finished. “And the last picture. Nathan, she barely looks legal.” I pointed at the slim young girl with her arm linked with his.

“She isn’t legal, and any guy who even thought about having a go would find themselves kicked into next week.” His tone was steely. “That’s my niece, Jennifer. I had premier tickets to Under Attack, and she’s a big fan of science-fiction, so I took her. She had a ball dressing up for the red carpet, happened to be her birthday, too, which made it doubly special to make the trip from Toronto for a night out with her favorite uncle.” He chuckled. “She’s great, turning out to be a very smart young woman with her head screwed on.”

“Your niece.” I stared at her and noticed there was a family resemblance in the angular shape of Jennifer’s chin and nose.

“So you see.” He slipped his cell away. “What you read was some reporter generating a story, putting two and two together and making five.” He turned me to face him again, his hands gentle on my upper arms. “If there was another woman in my life, if I was dating some one else, I wouldn’t have asked you out, Sophie. I’m not a two-timer.”

“So why does my brother think you’re trouble?”

He raised his eyebrows. “He does?”

“He likes you, of course he does, Ben likes everyone. But he warned me off you.”

“Ouch, that hurts.” Nathan frowned.

“But why would he do that?”

He sighed, then, “I guess I deserve it.”

“Why? I thought you just told me it was all fake news.”

“Before I met Wendy two years ago, I was enjoying the attention being a pro athlete gave me…with the ladies, you know?”

I raised my eyebrows. So he had been a player who’d chased after rink bunnies.

“What can I say? I’m a guy, I like women, and I like sex, too.” He grinned suddenly. “You want to know a secret?”

“Go on.”

“I haven’t…you know…done it since my divorce.”

“Really?” Did I believe him? A guy as pumped up on testosterone as Nathan?

“Nope.” He shook his head. “I guess it rocked my confidence. I realized I needed sex to be with the right person, not a one-night stand. I wanted to be intimate with someone who I could trust, admire, let in here.” He tapped his chest.

“I find it hard to believe a man like you hasn’t had sex in all that time.”

“A man like me?” He stepped closer. “What does that mean?”

“You know…hot.”

“You think I’m hot?” He smiled, and small creases around the edges of his eyes darted outward.

“You’ve got a mirror, right?”

He scraped his hand over his stubbled jawline. “I always thought I should shave more often, get my haircut more, you know. But I get busy with training. I guess this modern male grooming thing isn’t for me.”

“I like it, your stubble, your hair.”

“You better than like it, you just said I was hot.” He slipped his arms around my waist and tugged me close. “I like that you think that about me.” His voice lowered. “I like it a lot.”

I snatched in a breath. Being pressed against him was intoxicating. It made everything else fade away.

“And for the record, I think you’re real hot, Sophie, and in that dress…the way it hugs your ass, damn, it makes me want to get up close and personal with you…” His hands drifted from the small of my back to my butt. “Up close and personal with your ass.”

“Nathan!”

He grinned. “You can tell me to take a hike or give me a slap, but damn, I want to kiss you again, and touch you…I really wanna touch you.”

I swallowed and looked up into his eyes as I rested my hands on his hard chest. “I like you, Nathan, but I haven’t got time or the emotional energy to get messed about. With me, what you see it what you get, and I need that in return.”

“I figured that.” He lowered his head. “And for the record, honesty is at the top of my need list, and from my recent experience, so is not getting messed around.” He paused. “So can I kiss you now we’ve got that straight?”

I stretched upward and set my lips on his.

He instantly took control, tugging me closer he slanted his head and gently stroked his tongue into my mouth.

I moaned softly as our chests touched. I’d never been kissed this way. There was something electrifying about it. All the small hairs on my body were reacting. My skin was super-sensitive and my heart thudding.

He pulled me closer still, his hands splayed on my buttocks.

I looped my arms around his neck, completely lost to the moment. All my fears about other women had evaporated; he’d shown me his vulnerable side, confided his hurt and his past. I wanted to make him feel better…hell, I just wanted him.

“Oh God,” he moaned, kissing over my cheek. “You’re something else, you know that.”

I tipped my head and gave him access to my neck. “Nathan.”

He brushed his lips over my ear, his breath hot and loud. “I want you so bad.” He found my mouth again and fed me another pantie-dampening kiss.

I found myself being stepped backward, until the sofa hit the back of my legs. His arms were around me, his body looming over me as he tipped me low, lower still.

Sinking into the soft cushions, he pressed down, his mouth not leaving mine and his hands skimming the dips of my waist.

“Nathan, we can’t…”

“Sweetpea, you’re all I’ve thought about for days, and as consenting adults who’ve just admitted we find each other hot, I’d say we really, really can.”

I clenched my internal muscles. Thoughts of being naked with him, getting my hands on that hot body was all-consuming and tempting beyond belief. “Yes, but not…”

He caught my mouth again and his big hand covered my right breast.

I groaned. His touch, even through clothing, was making me mindless with want. I explored the contours of his back, the gutter of his spine, his wide shoulders. His damn polo was in the way, and I wanted to feel his flesh.

He rucked up my dress, his hands sliding up my thigh, his fingertips sneaking toward my panties.

What the hell am I doing?

“No, please, Nathan, not here.” I pushed his chest and squirmed.

“We can be quick.”

“No, I really don’t want to.”

He lifted his head and stilled. “You don’t want to at all or you don’t want to here?”

“Here. I can’t. This couch is where my brother sits and reads his magazines, watches sport on TV.” I paused to catch my breath. I was breathing fast. “I can’t…fuck on it.”

The frown over his brow dissolved, and in it’s place a grin appeared. “I like how you say fuck.”

I giggled. “Fuck. Get fucking off me and we’ll go somewhere else.”

“Okay, sweetpea.” He lifted up, catching my hand. He stood, tugging me up with him.

Quickly, I straightened my dress, glancing at the door. “Anyone could come in, and the curtains are open, too.”

“It was the right call.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “So your place or mine? I’m about ten minutes away.”

“And I’m twenty, so let’s go to yours.”

“I like the way you think.” He straightened his polo then took a step toward the door, wincing.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, just got a space issue in my pants.”

Again I giggled.

“Hey, it’s not funny. In fact, it’s damn uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re lucky you don’t have this type of problem.”

“I guess I am.” My gaze drifted to the impressive bulge in his denims, and a shiver of desire wound up my back and tightened my belly.

It was Christmas Eve, and I was going to get what I wanted…him.

He set his hand on the door. “My truck is parked out the front to the right. It’s a red Toyota. I’ll wait in it for you.”

“Okay. I’ll make my excuses and leave as soon as I can.”

“You’ve got five minutes, then I’m coming to get you.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can. I need to say goodbye to—”

“Five minutes, otherwise I’ll walk back through the front door and throw you over my shoulder. It’s no odds to me who sees that.”

From the expression on his face, I had no doubt he’d do just that. And the thought of being upended and marched out of Ben’s party like some woman being captured by a Neanderthal didn’t appeal. “Five minutes. Got it.”

“Good.”