Play to Win (4 page)

I was touched and had to clear my throat a couple of times. I'd had no idea it would mean so much to my father if I came to work for him. He'd never pressured me to join the family business, not batting an eye when I'd wanted to study art and art history, merely suggesting a minor in business “never hurt anybody.”

“Here it is!” Carrie said, proudly opening the door to an office larger than I'd thought it would be.

The walls were a warm mocha, the desk and credenza wooden with graceful lines and a deep walnut finish. A couple of chairs upholstered in chocolate and burgundy-striped fabric added color to the room and stood in front of the desk. A settee in the corner had throw pillows that matched the chairs.

“This looks amazing!” I headed behind the desk and stowed my purse in a drawer.

“I'll tell Charlie you're here,” she said with a smile.

I hardly noticed her leaving, so absorbed was I in taking everything in. A huge computer monitor was on the desk, tied to a laptop docked below. I sat down and toggled the keyboard. A login screen appeared. Glancing on my desk, I saw a thin folder with my name on the tab. Flipping it open, I saw it was a typical new-hire form for a new employee with logins and passwords for various systems along with my office number, fax line, e-mail, yadda yadda yadda.

“Sage! So glad you're here!”

I looked up to see Charlie had walked in. Tall and broad, the only hair on his head being his graying moustache, Charlie could exude warm grandfather one moment, then disapproving tyrant the next. He obeyed my dad without question and ruled the business with a strong hand.

He'd been born and grown up in Sicily, emigrating to the States when he was seventeen and hiring on with my dad soon after that. No-nonsense but fair, he'd been by my dad's side for years. Suddenly, I could see Charlie hiring those men who'd accompanied my father, his pragmatism no doubt unsurprised by the things that had been done over the years. After all, Sicily in the 1950s hadn't exactly been rainbows and unicorns, I was sure.

We spent the next few hours going over the business and the books, with Charlie explaining to me the process of what they did and how they did it. I found it more interesting than I thought it would be, and the time flew by. Before I knew it, Carrie was rapping on my open door.

“Thought you might be hungry,” she said, coming in to set a package on my desk. “I picked you up a salad and sandwich while I was out.”

“That's great, thank you,” I said. Someone else getting
me
lunch; now that was new. And on a Monday. With a pang, I wondered who had gotten Parker's standard lunch special from Tony's today. Ruthlessly, I shoved the emotion aside. “I appreciate it. Here, let me give you some money.” I reached for my purse but she shook her head.

“I put it on the company card,” she said, heading back out. “Don't worry about it.”

I ate my lunch as I went over the thick book Charlie had left me, detailing more about our suppliers. At about half past three, he popped in again.

“Just thought I'd check on you,” he said.

“It's going well,” I replied. “I've jotted down some questions I have for when you have time.”

“Sure, no problem. We can look at those in the morning,” he said. “Tonight we have our weekly financial meeting. I've got a problem with Albertson's over their latest delivery and need to go by and have a meeting with the owner first. Your dad wanted you to start dipping into how the financials work, so I was hoping you could come along.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “When and where?”

“It's over at that place on Polk and Clark. Blackie's. About six. The owner knows us so just tell him who you are. I'll meet you there.”

I jotted it down. “Got it.”

“Okay. See you then.”

I waved good-bye and dived back into work. I got up for a cup of coffee a little while later, saying hello to a few people I knew as I walked to the kitchen. Everyone seemed friendly and if they thought it was tacky that the boss had hired his daughter, I couldn't tell.

At about five forty-five, I got a call from Charlie.

“What's up?”

“This meeting is running long and with traffic, there's no way I'm going to be able to make it,” he said. “Go ahead and go, I'll just let him know I won't be there.”

“Okay. Will do.”

I was a little nervous as I touched up my makeup and caught a cab to Blackie's. This was my first official meeting in my new job so there were butterflies in my stomach. I really wanted to do well, not only for my father, but for myself as well.

Blackie's was a neighborhood bar and had been around since the thirties. It had lots of walnut wood and a historic feeling, and I liked it right away.

“Sage Muccino,” I told the host. “We have a standing reservation?” I was a few minutes late, having misjudged the traffic.

“Ah yes,” he said. “This way.”

He led me toward the back, past tables that were mostly full, though I spotted a couple of empty ones. Several people sat at the bar in groups of two, enjoying drinks and appetizers by the look of it. I could smell the food and my stomach growled.

I wondered what exactly would be expected of me at this meeting, since Charlie wasn't there. If it was a weekly event, then it probably wouldn't last long, though hopefully I could learn more about the company's holdings and investments.

“Here you go, miss,” the host said, pausing for me to sit at a table.

“Thank y—” I stopped, staring in surprise.

It was Parker.

G
ood to see you, Sage,” Parker said, getting to his feet as the host guy melted away. He pressed his lips to my cheek.

My eyes slipped closed, a shaft of bittersweet pain lancing through me. I could smell him, the scent I'd always loved—his cologne mixed with his skin—and my throat closed up.

Then he stepped back and the moment was gone.

My eyes popped open and I cleared my throat, struggling for composure.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

Parker didn't answer at once, pulling my chair out for me instead and waiting. Manners made me sit, though part of me longed to rush out of the restaurant like a hysterical teenager.

Retaking his seat, Parker said, “Your father contacted me. He said he wanted me to take care of the company accounts personally, rather than one of my account reps. Of course I said I would.”

Dear lord. Could this get any more embarrassing? My father was setting me up, most likely at the behest of my mother. I'd known she was getting ideas the night we'd all had that disastrous dinner together.

“And did he tell you I'd be here tonight?” I asked, wondering how obvious Dad had been. Subtlety wasn't one of his best traits. Actually, I doubted he knew the meaning of the word.

“He told me you were working for him now,” Parker said evenly. “You could say I hoped you'd be here tonight.”

Our gazes met and held, too many memories flashing through my mind. Memories of our bodies pressed together, him moving inside me, his lips on mine, the muscles of his back underneath my fingers…

I tore my eyes from his, lifting my hand for the waiter hovering nearby, who immediately stepped up to our table.

“Grey Goose martini,” I ordered.

“And for you, sir?”

Parker's eyes were still on me as he said, “Bourbon, on the rocks.”

“So what do we need to discuss?” I asked, trying to get down to business. “I'm supposed to be brought up to speed on the company's financials.”

“Why did you leave?”

I stared at him, nonplussed. Was he talking about my job? Or something else? I went with Option A, mostly because there was no way I could deal with discussing our relationship, or Ryker.

“I decided I needed a different career,” I said with a shrug.

“That's not what I mean.”

Well, shit.

“I don't want to discuss it,” I said, my voice firm. I prayed he'd take the hint. This was the unavoidable and cliché accidental meeting with an ex, with all its awkwardness and heartbreak—though my relationship with Parker hadn't exactly been the usual boyfriend/girlfriend type of thing.

The waiter returned with our drinks and I took a hefty gulp of mine. The cold vodka burned a path down my throat to warm in my stomach.

“Are you ready to order?” he asked. “Or do you need more time?”

I hadn't even glanced at the menu.

“Give us a few minutes,” Parker said. The waiter disappeared again. No doubt even he could feel the tension between the two of us, it was so thick.

I was nervous, my hands were shaking, and I didn't want to look at Parker again. I was afraid he'd see too much in my eyes. Instead, I studied the menu.

“What's good here?” I asked, forcing my tone to be light. They had burgers. Lots of gourmet burgers. Grease and fat and a side of fries smothered in ketchup sounded like just what I needed.

“We need to talk—”

“I said I don't want to discuss it,” I interrupted, putting the menu down and giving him a look. Maybe he could tell by the near panic in my voice that I was inches away from getting up and leaving. His lips thinned and he sat back in his chair, studying me while I resumed studying the menu, holding it up so it partially concealed my face.

“Everything's good here,” he said at last. “So get what you want.”

“Great.” A burger it was. Extra fries.

After we'd ordered, Parker pulled some files and papers from his briefcase and began going over them. I had enough of a business background and my experience as his assistant at the firm to understand most of it. What I didn't, he took time to explain, making sure I understood before moving on. I was worried I'd look dumb, but he didn't talk down to me or make me feel like an idiot. He was a good teacher and I could see why he was popular with his clients.

Dinner came and we worked as we ate. He'd ordered the salmon, but snagged some fries off my plate in an oddly intimate gesture that I decided not to comment on. I had another martini, which may not have been the wisest decision, but I figured the beef I was consuming would help soak up the alcohol.

Time flew by as we talked, and I was a whole heckuva lot more at ease discussing money and investments than anything personal with Parker. He was funny and easy to talk to, and it made my heart hurt when I thought of how much I missed him.

Parker paid the bill over my objections when we were finished, citing the fact that I was his customer now and he picked up the tab for customers. I couldn't argue with that, not when I knew it was the truth. After all, I used to be the one to do his expense reports.

We walked outside and I was about to lift my arm for a cab when Parker stepped in front of me. He was close, closer than I was prepared for, and I took a step back.

He followed me, his hand closing around my elbow, and I couldn't back away again.

“Let me take you home,” he said. “My car's just around the corner.”

That was such a bad idea, I didn't even bother putting my refusal into words.

“I'll grab a taxi,” I said, looking over his shoulder at the street and the light traffic going by. I could feel his eyes on me, and the touch of his hand on my skin felt like a brand.

“Look at me,” he said.

I didn't, knowing I'd cave if I gazed into his eyes.

“Look at me, Sage,” he said again, more insistent. He moved closer, and our bodies nearly touched. Reluctantly, I lifted my chin until our eyes met.

The intensity of his gaze made me suck in a breath. My pulse was racing and every inch of me wanted to press against him.

“Don't try to pretend you don't still have feelings for me,” he said, his voice a low rasp that made a shiver dance across my skin. “Or that you don't want me, because I know it's not true.”

He bent until his lips were near my ear. My eyes slid shut at the barest touch of his skin against mine. The warmth of his breath caressed my cheek as he spoke.

“I remember your taste, the feel of you beneath me, the sounds you make when I'm inside you,” he whispered.

I couldn't breathe. The urge to turn toward him until our lips met was nearly overwhelming. I clenched my hands into fists, the images his words provoked running through my head.

“You and I belong together, and no matter how long it takes for you to realize that, I'm not giving up.”

His mouth grazed my jaw in a touch that made me swallow down a moan, then he took a step back, releasing me.

My eyes flew open to find him watching me, his brows drawn together in a frown.

I couldn't speak, and even if I could, I had no idea what I'd say. He'd thrown me utterly.

Taking a shaky step, I glanced at the street and saw a taxi driving past. Parker did, too. He let out a piercing whistle and lifted his arm. The cab pulled over and idled at the curb.

“I've gotta go,” I said, my face flushing with heat as I moved quickly past him. But he was already there, opening the car door for me.

“See you soon, Sage,” he said, his lips twisting in a half-smile, as if he knew how hard it was for me to walk away from him when every cell in my body was screaming to do just the opposite.

The door shut and the driver stepped on the gas. I couldn't help twisting in my seat to look out the back window for one last glimpse of Parker standing on the sidewalk.

I was completely thrown by the dinner with Parker and what he'd said. I felt as though all the progress I'd made in the past two weeks had evaporated into smoke. And thoughts of Parker made me think of Ryker.

Regret stabbed at me. Did Ryker hate me for how things had turned out? Did he think I'd done what Natalie had? Played them against each other just for the fun of being wanted by two men and driving a wedge between them?

Stripping off my work clothes, I pulled on a pair of pajama pants and a tank top. As I glanced in my closet, my eye caught on a small stack of T-shirts. They weren't mine. They were Ryker's, left over here from the many times he'd stayed over. I also had a couple of pairs of his jeans and a gray tank.

I'd have to get his stuff back to him. Not to mention, he had a key to my apartment. Probably should get that back. A tingle of anticipation as well as a heavy sense of dread settled over me at the thought of seeing Ryker again. Then nerves set in. Was there anything more awkward than returning your ex's belongings?

Looked like I'd have to find out—as soon as I screwed up my courage.

The courage didn't present itself until Saturday. I procrastinated all week, learning my new job and the ropes around the office. Then the weekend rolled around and I knew I couldn't put it off any longer.

I elected not to call first. A mistake? Maybe. But talking over the phone would be just as awkward and I was hoping he might be working and I wouldn't have to face him at all.

Okay, who was I kidding? I was dying to see him again, but too chicken to try and arrange it.

I dressed carefully, changing clothes a half dozen times. That was too dressy. That too casual. That looked like I was trying too hard.

Finally, I decided on shorts and a retro Van Halen T-shirt I'd picked up at a vintage shop. It was black and cut for a woman, and so was flattering in a subtle way. I left my hair down and packed up Ryker's belongings into a Nordstrom shopping bag.

I'd delayed long enough and it was early afternoon by the time the cab pulled up to Ryker's house. It was at times like these that I regretted turning down my dad's offer to buy me a car. Having my own mode of transportation—without calling Schultz or a taxi—would be really nice.

There was a sinking sensation in my stomach when I saw that the front door was open, with only the screen door blocking the entry.

He was home.

Getting out of the car, I hefted the bag. “Can you wait, please?” I asked the driver, who shrugged. I took that as a yes.

I'd made it halfway up the walk before the door burst open and McClane came barreling toward me.

I stopped in my tracks at the sight of the huge German shepherd and his twin rows of sharp, white teeth. A police academy dropout, McClane had a huge doggie crush on me, despite my unreciprocated affection. He smelled. He shed. And he drooled.

He'd also saved my life, getting injured in the process.

With a sigh, I set down my bag just as he jumped up, his paws settling nearly to my shoulders. His tongue lolled in a grin and I carefully avoided the wet slobber, patting him on the head.

“Hiya, McClane,” I said. “Glad you're all better now.” I noticed the hair was just starting to grow back from where they'd had to shave his belly.

“I knew it had to be you. There's only one person he'd knock down my door to get to.”

I glanced up, my heart skipping a beat at the sight of Ryker. He must've been working on his truck, because the white tank he wore was torn and stained, and he was wiping black grease from his fingers onto a rag.

His shoulders and arms were covered in a fine sheen of sweat and I found my gaze wandering over all the exposed muscles and skin. Ryker had a raw edge to him that was as potent as catnip and as intoxicating as the strongest Hurricane Mardi Gras had to offer.

“Um, yeah,” I said, pushing McClane down. It was like trying to move a gorilla and I had to give him a mean look before he dropped back to the ground. Even then, he sat close, gazing up at me in doggie adoration as his tail swished the grass.

I couldn't avoid Ryker's gaze any longer, though it hurt to look into his eyes. I felt guilt and a strong sense of loss, as though things would've been very different if all that had come between us had never happened.

“I brought your things,” I blurted, not knowing what else to say. “Thought you might want them back.” Nervously, I glanced away from him.

“There are a lot of things I want back. My clothes aren't one of them.”

My startled gaze met his, but he was moving toward me, and before I could even think of stepping back, he was kissing me.

Hot and sweet, his lips on mine. His arms were around my waist, lifting me up on my toes, and it was instinct to clutch his shoulders, hard underneath my fingers.

Ryker didn't just kiss; he put all he had into it, his tongue sliding against mine and making my head swim as though I'd downed a shot of tequila. I breathed in deep the scent of heat and sweat tinged with motor oil. It may not sound sexy, but it was all man and it made my knees weak.

“God, I've missed you,” he muttered, finally breaking the kiss. I was breathless. “Tell me you've missed me, too.” He let me slide down until my feet were on the ground, and I wanted to whimper at the press of his hard cock against my abdomen. His hands drifted down to cup my ass and his mouth moved to my neck.

“What are you doing?” I managed to ask, my eyes slipping closed. “We-we broke up.”

“You broke up. Not me.”

He was sucking on my neck, turning me boneless, and I struggled to think.

“Ryker,” I said. He didn't reply, just brushed his lips up to the tender skin under my jaw. “Ryker,” I said again, stronger this time. “Stop.” I pushed at him and he finally relented, easing his hold on me until I could take a shaky step back. Then I was at a loss for words.

“I was hoping that after you had some time, you'd reconsider,” he said after a beat. “A lot's happened the past couple of weeks. You needed space, so I gave it to you.”