Cameron
This party was a good idea. I remind myself to thank Layla again for setting this all up. The smell of fried chicken, mac-n-cheese, and baked beans makes my mouth water. Going with an all-American menu was fuckin’ brilliant. As soon as the sun goes down, the firework show should begin. It’s being put on by the country club, who also does its own party for the Fourth, but my generous financial contribution had them setting up the pyrotechnics with a perfect view from my backyard.
“Sanderson,” I call out to Mike Sanderson, a member of the UFL board as he and a woman I’m assuming is his wife, saunter out into the backyard. He makes his way to me, hand out, and smiles. “Glad you could make it.”
“You went all out.” He grabs my hand in a firm shake and introduces me to his wife before sending her to the bar for drinks. “You thought any more about Faulkner’s challenge?”
“I have.” Been planning for this fight for fourteen years. “Just waiting on the approval from the board.”
“We’ve met. Discussed.” He shrugs and swings his gaze in a slow rake around the backyard before coming back to our conversation. “It’d be a Supercard.”
“It would. Set up the prelims with rivals. Promote the fuck out of it. We’re talkin’ record-breaking numbers. Huge money.”
“Rival Bout. I like it.” His wife comes back with two drinks, hands one off to him, and then waves to another woman she recognizes and excuses herself.
“The rest of the board see things like we do?”
“They’re . . . less convinced. Fact is we need you. With your medical history, combined with the possibility of concussion, we need to ask ourselves if one fight is worth the possibility of losing a great CEO.”
“Gotta get hit hard enough for that to happen, Sanderson. He won’t get near me.”
“I appreciate your confidence, but you can’t guarantee—”
“I can. Give me the fight. I’ll prove it.”
He glares and his lips pull up on the sides. “Stubborn son of a bitch.”
“I want that fight.” I laugh and throw back the last of my beer when a flash of blond catches my eye.
Is that . . . ? My blood pounds through my veins. The mingling crowd obscures my view, until she emerges. Holy fuck. It’s Eve.
She’s here, at my house, and looks better than my fantasies have recalled. Her straight blond hair falls around her bare shoulders; I know those thick bangs, even with her sunglasses on, frame the biggest pair of sky-blue eyes. It looks like she was poured into a blue and white dress that seems as if it’s made out of elastic bandages. Her long legs are tipped with bright red heels that beg to mark a man’s back. Fucking gorgeous.
“. . . meeting next week. We should—”
“Give me a minute?” I hold my hand up to Sanderson. “I need to go say hi to . . .”
What. The. Fuck.
She’s coming this way. But she’s not alone. My teeth clench and my fists get tight. She’s with Mason, and not just accompanying him. She’s holding his motherfucking hand.
“Cam, man. Great party.” Mason’s talking to me. I know he is, but I don’t pay him even a second of my attention as my eyes are firmly set on Eve.
Mason drops her hand only to throw his entire arm over her shoulder to hug her to his side. “You remember Eve from The Blackout.”
She pushes her sunglasses up on her head and fuck me . . . those eyes. “Hey, yeah. Nice to see you again.”
Sanderson clears his throat at my side.
“Mike Sanderson, Mason Mahoney and Eve Dawson.” I still haven’t stopped looking at her, and just like the first night, the more I stare, the harder it is to look away.
Mason and Mike talk about something, but it’s white noise compared to the thump of my pulse in my ears. I knew I missed her, wanted to show up at her house a dozen different times, but I held back, knowing it was best for us both to end things. But now, now I’m gearing to rip Mason’s arm from his body if he doesn’t fucking drop it from her. He must feel her soft hair against his arm, her even softer body pressed to his ribs.
“What are you doing here, Eve?” The rumble in my chest makes it more of a growl than comprehendible words.
She pins me with a glare that goes straight to my dick, and fuck if I don’t want to provoke her into a fight.
“She’s with me, Cam.” There’s a smile in Mason’s voice.
I turn my frustration on him. “Is she?”
“Cameron.” Eve’s voice is stern, but even still the way she says my name makes me want to pull her head back and devour her mouth. My fingers itch to tangle in all that long hair. I flex my hands. Think before you act.
“Yep, lucky me, huh?” His fucking pretty-boy ass smiles even bigger. “I’m gonna take my girl to get a drink, and . . .”
Eve looks up at Mason, her eyes huge and her jaw loose on its hinges. She doesn’t seem to like being called his girl. A trickle of satisfaction tempers my anger.
We exchange a few mumbled words and a head nod before he guides her, his arm still slung over her shoulders, to the bar. I can’t help but watch the entire thing unfold, my eyes glued to their connection.
What was she thinking showing up to my house on the arm of one of my fighters? My guess is she’s trying to make me jealous, but that seems so beneath her. She’s young, sure, but from what little I know of her, she’s above this petty shit.
I excuse myself to go inside, making a quick run to my office. My stash of high-end liquor is locked up there. I pour three fingers of Remy XO into a crystal tumbler and drop into my leather club chair.
What’s a man supposed to do when tempted with a woman like Yvette Dawson? Young, gorgeous, and every single thing I need to stay away from.
~*~
Eve
I’ve had too much to drink. I told myself that I shouldn’t let my nerves dictate how thirsty I got, but knowing that Cameron is within range, feeling his eyes on me, I just kept throwing the drinks back.
Luckily the backyard misters are maintaining a pretty decent evening temperature. I scouted out a little bistro table and chairs away from the bulk of the party so I can lounge in the fresh air and try to clear my head.
As nice as Mason has been tonight, it’s pretty obvious he thinks my acceptance of this date means something. Referring to me as his girl in front of Cameron would’ve gotten him an elbow to the ribs if it weren’t for the obvious jealousy painted all over the hotshot UFL CEO’s face. But the knowledge that Cameron might still be interested in me, even now that he knows how old I am, has been doing a number on my heart all night.
Why can’t we just be honest with each other? Yeah, maybe we’re not the perfect match, but we’re clearly attracted to one another, have explosive chemistry when we’re naked, and don’t find the other insanely annoying. That’s more than most couples can say.
I drop my head back and close my eyes. It’s almost completely dark. As soon as the fireworks are finished, I’ll hit Mason up for a ride home, explaining that I’ve had too much to drink, which isn’t a lie, but it’s not really the problem either.
“What are you doing here?”
I jerk upright, searching the dark corner where the voice came from. “Cameron?”
He takes a few steps out of the shadows. His eyes drill holes in me. He looks mad. No, not mad. Furious. “Answer me.”
Okay, maybe I was wrong about him having feelings. At least, not the good kind.
“Mason invited me.”
“Why did you come?” His voice is so deep, demanding, nothing like Mason’s sweet cajoling tone.
My body responds immediately. Heart pounding, skin warming, womb tingling. “Had nothing else to do.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “Try again.”
“It’s true.” I shrug and lean back with a slow cross of my bare legs. Hold on! I’m being seductive. I’m trying to seduce him?
“You expect me to believe that your coming here tonight has nothing to do with me.”
“I don’t care what you believe, but yeah, that’s the truth.”
A wounded expression crosses his features before he reins it in. “You and Mason.”
I should tell him it’s none of his business. Or hell yeah, me and Mason, what’re you going to do about it, asshole. “No.”
“No?”
I shake my head.
“He know that?”
The rough edge of his voice makes my toes curl. “He’s not really in tune to my subtle hints.”
A low growl rumbles in his throat. “I’ll interpret.”
God, this is so confusing. It’s as if he’s jealous, but why? “I haven’t heard from you since the night you showed up at my place to get me naked. Now you want a say in who I hang out with?”
His hand pushes through his hair, which looks almost black in the dim light, and he groans. “Fair enough.” He crosses to me and drops down on the seat next to mine. Elbows on his knees, he scrubs his face with his hands. “Fuck.”
“I uh . . . I like your house.” Generic, safe, and totally lame subject change.
He turns his head, and there’s a slight tilt to his lips that look far from amused. Sexy hair, thick jaw, full lips, and eyes that even when they’re smiling look as if they want to devour me.
My heart pounds. This is so wrong. I’m around Cameron for ten seconds, and I’m visualizing all the things I’d do to him if we were alone, but Mason only makes me want to punch him in the arm and give him a wedgie for being obnoxiously sweet.
The silence between us is thick with tension. “The party was a good idea.” I motion to the crowd that is now gathering outside for the fireworks. “Don’t think Gibbs ever did anything like this for his fighters.”
I feel his eyes on me, and when I turn, I almost recoil at the intensity behind his stare. “Can you stop acting like we’re two old friends shooting the shit when you know good and fucking well you’re thinking the same thing I am.”
My mouth falls open and I force it shut, only to have it drop open again.
“I’ve had my hands and my mouth all over every inch of that gorgeous body, doll. You think I can’t read you? Know what you’re thinking about right now?”
I swallow hard. “What am I thinking about?”
“Same thing I am.” His eyes move over my body in a slow caress, and he leans in close. “Us naked, our bodies tangled together sweat-soaked from fuckin—”
“Dad!”
My head jerks toward the direction of the voice, heart pounding, and body jacked the hell up from what Cameron was describing. Pull it together, Eve.
A boy, no not a boy, a man but one who just recently made the transition, is headed toward us. He’s tall. My guess is he’s close to six foot, and he looks like a lanky, lighter shade of Cameron.
“Oh my God.” I cover my mouth when realization sinks in. This has to be his son.
The kid approaches, his blond hair sticking out all over like a rock star, and he’s wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a faded black concert tee that looks one size too small. It’s not the kind of style I’d expect from an offspring of Cameron’s, but this kid rocks the look.
“Dude, we’ve got a problem.” He looks at me and then back to Cameron with questioning eyes.
Cameron groans. “Ryder, this is Eve.” He meets my eyes in a meaningful and what seems like apologetic way. “Eve, my son. Ryder.”
I shake the kid’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too.” He flashes a knockout smile, and I’m not surprised to see he looks even more like his dad than I thought. “You must be the vamp.”
Vamp?
“Ry.” The nickname comes out as a warning, but Ryder chuckles.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but um . . . Dad, can you come here for a second?”
“You can talk in front of Eve,” Cameron says.
Warmth explodes in my chest. Two one-night stands and a breakfast and he’s comfortable with me being witness to a conversation he’s going to have with his son? I refuse to let my heart go to all the places it wants to and decide Cameron knows his son best and whatever he has to say is most likely not a big deal.
Ryder’s eyes shift between Cameron and me, and he decides with a shrug. “Okay.” He looks at Cameron. “Mom’s here.”
I suck in a breath.
“Fuck!” Cameron jumps up from his seat and storms off without saying goodbye. No see ya later. No I’ll be right back. Just gets up and takes off to go see his ex-wife.
Ryder gives me a halfhearted smile as if he’s taken notice of his dad’s rude departure. “Nice meeting you, Eve.”
“You too.” My response is soft, but it doesn’t matter. By the time the last word is out of my mouth, he’s gone anyway.
Talk about emotional whiplash. One minute he’s talking about us, and then poof! he takes off to be with his ex. This shouldn’t be surprising. It’s what I expect and probably deserve. My head tumbles with questions, feelings, and emotions I can’t even name. I rub my temples, trying to make it all stop and only manage to give myself a headache.
This was a mistake. A huge one.
Boom! The sound of fireworks and the follow up of collective ooh’s and ah’s fill my ears. I inch closer to the crowd for a better look. One after the other, fireworks launch into the sky and light up the crowd of faces in every color of the rainbow. I find Mason standing with Blake and Layla, but I stay where I am, afraid of getting too close and having him touch me in some way.
God, I’m a royal bitch.
Mother Nature alerts me to the fact that I need to make a stop before we go. Now’s probably a good time.
I wander through the living room, passing big leather couches and a flat screen TV that’s bigger than my refrigerator. The house is basically empty save for a few of the caterers picking up empty cups and plates.
I get the attention of a girl as she’s heading to the kitchen. “Is there a bathroom nearby?”
She jerks her head toward the hallway. “Over there.”
“Thanks.” I turn down the long hallway, and all the doors are closed except one door at the end that’s cracked. “Bingo.”
I avoid taking in too much of the house as I scurry to the bathroom door. It seems the more I learn about Cameron the more I like him, and noticing his excellent taste in decor won’t help. Head down I push through the bathroom door and stop dead in my tracks.
Oh shit. Not the bathroom. I’m in a bedroom, a gigantic bedroom that has its own sitting area with a couch. And on that couch is Cameron, but he’s not alone. He’s sitting, leaning in towards a woman. Fuck!