Jocked Up: Sports Romance (A Secret Baby Second Chance Romance) Read online

  “Because there was a cow chasing us.”

  April had to stop to giggle. When she looked up at him, his expression of wounded pride only made it worse.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Now, why…”

  “Because we had tipped over its friend.”

  “We?”

  “Surely you know the calculations. It takes more than one person to tip a cow.”

  “I didn’t actually know those calculations, no. And aren’t cows fairly…oh, placid? I think that’s the word I’m looking for.”

  “Fairly. Except when you’ve tipped one of them over. Then it’s nighttime and they’re staring at you in the dark with their eyes gleaming, dozens of them like something out of a horror movie, and then they all start to make these angry noises and…turns out, they can run pretty fast.”

  “And lucky for you that they can,” April said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be a billionaire right now.”

  “You make a very good point. Maybe I should put that in the brochures.” He stopped by an unassuming little door in the neighboring tower. “Here we are.”

  “This is a coffee shop?”

  “And a good one.”

  “Do they make good mochas?”

  “Coffee. Only coffee. But Ms. Thornton, I tell you—it is divine.”

  “I look forward to it,” April said, unexpectedly charmed. He actually seemed serious.

  “So tell me about your career,” he said after they had ordered. He had insisted on paying—“I’m a billionaire, my dear”—and was now leaning against the back wall of the tiny shop.

  “My career? You’re sweet to call it that.”

  “I’ve known Jeffries since I was twelve. I say this with all respect due to a business genius, but he must be practically impossible to get from place to place.”

  April stifled a laugh.

  “You’re not wrong.”

  “Ms. Thornton, a secretary is to a CEO what a butler was to a regency household—absolutely indispensable. How the company runs depends in large part on how well a secretary can manage the CEO’s image. Therefore, whether or not the world sees it, a secretary can make or break a company—and you seem to be making it.” He raised his eyebrows. “Ah, good, our coffee. Cream? Sugar?”

  “Brown sugar?” April peered at the pot.

  “It’s delicious.” He paused with the spoon over her cup. “Try some?”

  “Okay.” He passed it to her and April took a sip of the concoction, reveling as much in the gesture as she did the taste. How long had it been since someone had gotten her a cup of coffee? She rather liked it. “That is wonderful.”

  “And now you know where to get the best coffee…and disappear for a while.” He led her back out onto the plaza and strolled at her side. “Ms. Thornton, I must thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “I was dreading this trip. To be honest, I was sure that Hines was only here to mess with my trip. I anticipated three days of fighting. But you have gotten us both—yes, I admit it, both of us—to lay down our weapons. That’s no mean feat.”

  “Well, now that you know how much more pleasant it is,” April suggested tartly, “you can doubtless continue without my help.”

  “Oh, but I don’t want to.” His smile was suddenly, shockingly intimate. And just as April felt herself begin to blush, the moment was interrupted, the sound of a quiet greeting making them both whirl.

  “Good morning,” Dave Hines said. His eyes flicked between them with the mildest expression April had ever seen. He didn’t seem angry in the least.

  But she noticed he managed to stand between them on the elevator ride up.

  Chapter Three

  “So what are you going to do?” Jane asked. She munched contemplatively on a French fry as she watched.

  “What about?” I dipped a piece of sushi in soy sauce and chewed. Sometimes I missed the green openness of upstate New York, where I’d grown up, but easy access to sushi and good coffee more than made up for that.

  “About them.”

  “Well…not much. I mean, there isn’t much I need to do.” I mentally plotted out the next day and a half. “I’ve worked it out so they’ll only be in the same place at the same time for about two hours, and they really have been behaving themselves.”

  “Not about that,” Jane said, around a mouthful of sandwich. She swallowed and looked at me curiously. “Wait, do you actually not see it?”

  “See what?” Alarm bells went off in my head. I looked around. “What did they do?” My head was filled with images of the two men throwing printer paper and expletives at each other.

  “They’re both interested in you,” Jane said slowly, as if speaking to the very stupid. “And you’re interested in both of them.”

  “What? No.”

  “Okay, I’ve worked with you for two years. I remember when you were going out with Mark and you thought he was The One and you were going to end up in the suburbs together, and I remember James, too, and how the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

  “Mmm.” I smiled dreamily. James and I hadn’t been very compatible, but he’d been the perfect rebound guy from staid, stuffy, manipulative Mark, who wanted me to lose weight but not, apparently, to be sexy so that other people noticed. James and I, at least, had ended on good terms—and every once in a while when we weren’t seeing anyone, we met up for drinks. “Wait, what’s your point, though?”

  “My point is, I’ve seen you when you were picturing the future with someone, and I’ve seen you when you had chemistry with someone, and these guys? Have both things going for them.”

  “Which guy?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you: both of them.” She raised her eyebrows. “So what’re you going to do?”

  “Okay, first of all…” I pointed a chopstick at her. “You are way off. I don’t feel that way about them.”

  “Uh-huh.” She took a big bite of her sandwich and gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me in the slightest.

  “I don’t!”

  “Sure, okay. Well, you haven’t had a date in two months anyway. Isn’t that reason enough to go out for a fun time? I mean, you’re laughing and joking with them, it’s not like you’d have a bad time.”

  “That’s the other thing. They’re not interested in me.”

  “You’re wrong.” Jane picked the tomato out of her sandwich and took another bite.

  “No, I’m not. Rich guys don’t go for women like me.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Jane, look at me.”

  “What?” Jane complied. Then she put down her sandwich and took a deep breath. “April, please don’t tell me people are getting to you.”

  “No one’s getting to me. I’m perfectly happy with how I look.” I stabbed at another piece of sushi moodily. “I’m just being realistic.”

  “No, you aren’t.” She reached out to touch my hand lightly. “Before I met you, do you know what kind of underwear I wore?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Just listen.” Jane wiped her hands on her napkin and looked away. “I bought in, April. All of my underwear was this cheap ugly stuff that I hated. And I bought it because I hated me. I got up and looked in the mirror and all I could see was that extra pound here, that extra pound there. I was buying in, I didn’t think I had any worth unless I could be someone else’s idea of perfect. And now I know you. April, you’re one of the strongest, most self-assured, wonderful, gorgeous women I know. You taught me that it was okay to wear pretty clothes and fancy underwear because I wanted to and it made me happy. And it really hurts to see that you’re doubting yourself now, because you’re the one who taught me that it’s not about that. You can tell me it’s just realistic, but the fact is, until you think you can get what you actually want, you’re still letting the rest of those jerks get to you.”

  I stared at her, dumbfounded. This was about the most words I had ever heard Jane say at
one time. When had it all turned out, and she’d become the wise one and I’d become the timid one? I grimaced down at the table.

  “You want them, don’t you?” Jane asked.

  “Yeah,” I said morosely.

  “And they both like you. I’m telling you, it’s true. So you can fall back on some tired old stereotype that no one’s ever going to love you for you, or you can accept what you’re seeing and go for what will make you happy.” She bit her lip and gave me a smile that was just the tiniest bit wicked. “I mean, come on, you’re choosing between two gorgeous billionaires. Live the fantasy, April. Take it while it’s here.”

  I laughed.

  “I don’t want to choose, though.”

  “What?” her eyes widened.

  What had I meant by that? It just came out. I shrugged.

  “Messy conversations, blah blah blah.”

  “Okay, so go on dates with both of them. They don’t have to know.”

  “How many beers have you had?”

  “Just the one.”

  I laughed, and heard my phone buzz. This dinner had been just what I needed after the past couple of days. Pulling my phone out, I raised my eyebrows.

  “What?” Jane asked me.

  “It’s not a big deal, there’s just that meeting tomorrow and Dave wants the documents for it. I need to go run them over.”

  “And have a date while you’re there,” Jane said, pointing a fry at me. “Go on, I’ll get this.” She pulled out her checkbook and grinned.

  “It’s not a date,” I said severely. “And thank you.”

  “Anytime. Remember, I want details!”

  “I’ll be sure to tell you just how his face looked when I handed over the profit estimates.” I grinned and headed out, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

  Could Jane possibly be right? I could see men—and a few women—looking admiringly at my dress and my heels. And me. Had I really come so far, gotten so comfortable with myself, only to deny myself the one thing I really, truly wanted? I was freaking gorgeous, and I told myself that I believed that.

  But what if I didn’t?

  That seemed like a question to ponder with a bottle of wine and a bubble bath later. I filed that away and checked to make sure I had all the documents, then texted Dave.

  In the lobby.

  The reply came back at once: Room 2536.

  I punched the button and waited as the elevator ascended, making my ears pop. I should have expected that Dave would be working this late. He was the young prodigy, after all. Maybe that was part of why Nathaniel hated him so much—carefree Dave who openly admitted that he liked hang gliding and expensive dinners more than work. Something to consider. I knocked on the door to Dave’s room…

  …and felt my mouth fall open as I looked inside.

  It was absolutely filled with candles, glittering softly in the dim light. I could see roses in vases all around, and their smell was intoxicating. A bottle of champagne was on ice, and Dave’s smile, as he looked at me, was bright with unexpected mischief.

  “Uh…” I was still holding the documents. “So when you said you needed these…”

  “I was not lying,” he said, grinning. “I really did. But…I admit I also wanted to see you.” He stepped back from the door, hands up. “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to. No obligations.”

  That, of all things, was what decided me…or at least gave me the courage to step over the threshold. I looked around myself, smiling without any volition at all.

  “What is this about?”

  “What do you mean?” Dave poured a flute of champagne and held it out. “I fell for you the first time I saw you. I’m only in town for a few days, but I wanted to see you outside the office.”

  “And you’re sure you’re not just trying to get back at Mr. Bryan for taking me to coffee this morning?”

  “I admit that I was certainly motivated to outdo him.” He raised his own glass and took a sip. “But this isn’t about him. It’s about you.”

  “Me.” I looked down into my glass. I could hear Jane’s words in my head and I realized she was absolutely, entirely correct—I didn’t need a bubble bath and a bottle of wine to see the truth. “How could it be me? How does a man who worked his way up the corporate ladder by 26 want me?”

  “Simple.” He was suddenly very close, and I forgot how to breathe. Every part of my body seemed to be on fire, and I was drowning in those dark blue eyes. “You’re mischievous, you’re passionate, and you’re smart. You’re everything I have looked for in a woman, and you’re sexy as hell on top of it. Ms. Thornton…”

  “April,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

  “April. The more I learn about you, the more I want you.”

  His lips hovered close to mine for a moment and I was frozen, entirely unable to move. I couldn’t have walked away if the fire alarms had started going off. I was weak at the knees with how much I wanted him, and when his lips came down on mine, I would have fallen over if it weren’t for his arm around my waist.

  Chapter Four

  The kiss deepened, and I felt my lips part beneath his. That soft moan could only have been mine, and he groaned against my mouth as his arm tightened. His fingers were tangling in my hair and both of our champagne glasses had dropped to the ground. I stood on tip toe to press closer to him, our lips moving urgently, my fingers on the buttons of his shirt.

  We tumbled onto the bed and I was pleased, after a moment of fear, that he’d had the sense not to strew the bed with roses. One experience with thorns was enough for a lifetime, and I felt myself laugh, wondering if he’d had the same one. The laugh died quickly enough. His fingers slid up along my thigh, pushing my skirt up as his hips pressed against mine.

  “Your skin is so soft.”

  And his fingers were just the slightest bit rough. I moaned again and let my head drop back as a thrust of his hips sent pleasure shivering through me. Our legs were tangled together, his lips at my throat, and I wanted absolutely everything, from this fairytale room to the pleasure his fingers were promising. Tomorrow—

  It was like someone had poured ice water on me. I opened my eyes with a gasp. Tomorrow. Oh, God, tomorrow. Tomorrow when I’d be at the office with the two men I was supposed to be keeping apart, and all those tensions I was supposed to be diffusing. And I would have slept with one of them.

  “What’s wrong?” Dave looked at the bed. “Rose thorn? I thought it was all petals.”

  “No, no.” I managed a little bit of a laugh, but sobered quickly enough. “I, uh…I’m so sorry. I can’t do this.”

  In my head, I could hear Jane screaming at me not to be stupid.

  Dave frowned.

  “Are you…I don’t understand.” He looked at my left hand.

  “No boyfriend, no husband.” I waved my hands.

  “Then what is it?” He reached out for my hand. “April, if I pressured you…” He shook his head. “I thought you wanted this.”

  “I did! I do.” I yanked my hand back from his—his touch made me want to slide into his arms—and I made for the door. If I didn’t leave now, the wrong things were going to happen. “Look, if this was any other time, I would be…this would be… It’s perfect. It really is. But I’m Mr. Jeffries’s secretary, and you’re, well, you, and I just—I can’t.”

  “Please don’t go.” His eyes were sad. “Jeffries doesn’t own you, April. If you want me, and I want you—and I do—“

  “I can’t,” I said desperately. I was out the door and running down the hallway the next minute, praying he wouldn’t come after me. I knew some part of me wanted him to call after me, even though the same thought made me desperately afraid. We couldn’t do this. We couldn’t. And he must have understood that—or at least, respected my wishes—because he didn’t come after me.

  And that was good, I told myself firmly as I left the elevator. Because that fairytale thing where the man chased after the woman and promised that he’d make all of
the problems disappear could only possibly work in fairytales. The ability to make all the world’s problems go away was magic. We couldn’t do that. Not in real life.

  “April?”

  I whirled, my cheeks flaming.

  “Hey. Hi. How are you—what are you—”

  “Are you okay?” Nathaniel asked me, frowning. He looked genuinely worried.

  “Yeah. Totally fine.” Except I felt like I was wearing a neon sign over my head that said, “I was just kissing one of the shareholders.” He couldn’t see it, could he?

  “You look really flustered.” He looked over at the near-empty bar and jerked his head slightly. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  No, my mind insisted, while Jane’s imagined voice howled, for the love of God, yes!

  This time, Jane won.

  “Sure,” I heard myself say.

  Oops.

  “Martini?” he asked me when we’d taken our seats. “Champagne? Scotch?”

  “I don’t even know.”

  “Hmm. Are you sure you’re all right?” But he leaned over the bar. “Two Hennessy’s.”

  “What’s Hennessy?”

  “Cognac,” he said, with a grin.

  “Schmancy,” I said, before I thought. I really needed someone to stop me from talking. Luckily, he only laughed.

  “Brandy and cognac,” he informed me as he handed me a glass, “were once used to settle nerves. Probably because they have the kick of a midsize horse. Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” I smiled. It was impossible not to. Nathaniel had such infectious good humor.

  “So…I’m getting signals that you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you.”

  “Nope,” I said instantly. I took a sip to emphasize the fact that I wasn’t talking, and promptly choked. Dave hadn’t been kidding about the kick.

  “Sip. Pretend you’re an English baron with a cigar and a country house, and you have not a care in the world.”

  “Wow.” I looked into the glass. “Is that what you do when you drink this?”

  “I don’t know about anyone else,” he admitted, “but between you and me? Yeah, I do. Is that just too adolescent?”