Fair Play (10 page)

Chapter Twelve

Noah

It had been twenty-nine hours and thirty-seven minutes since I’d told Ashlyn a relationship between us couldn’t last. So why was I still so eaten up that she’d agreed? Sure, agreement between us was a rarity, but that didn’t change facts. The two of us becoming lovers was a bad idea—one worse than Lucas Marshall forcing us together for the sake of her writing and the play meant to save us all. The other night had been off the charts, yes, and it was an experience I’d never regret, but sometimes even the greatest experiences shouldn’t be repeated.

What it boiled down to though, and what pained me the most, was that she hadn’t put up a fight. In fact,
she’d
been the one who said maybe we should stop sleeping together. And when I’d gone back to her apartment after finishing the pressing matters I needed to attend to in my office, she’d greeted me by saying she was on a roll and had asked for the night off from obeying Lucas’s directive. That’s why I sat in my office Saturday morning, staring at an email from Cambridge Hotels like it’d been written in Sanskrit, video surveillance of Kyle Pritchard’s trailer loaded on the side-bar. Within five days of Lucas’s ultimatum, Ashlyn Carter already had me completely unraveled.

Without knocking, Babs barged through my office door, her forehead creased in a deep frown. “You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?”

I looked up from my computer. Where the hell had that come from? “Who is
her
?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“No. For the record, I’m not sleeping with Ashlyn.” Which technically was true, since I was sitting in my office chair, working, and Ashlyn was across the street in her apartment, supposedly writing the script of her life. Plus Babs had used the present tense. Whatever Ashlyn and I had going, at least in the sleeping together sense, was now in the past. We’d reached a consensus. Made an agreement.

Movement on the monitor pulled my focus back to the screen. Pritchard was leaving the RV, walking to his car. I flipped to the GPS monitor, waiting to see where he was headed.

“I don’t believe you. But I won’t argue,” she said. “Lucas wants to see you. He’s downstairs. That’s partly how I knew about you and Ashlyn.”

I frowned. “What about Lucas being downstairs makes you think Ashlyn and I are sleeping together?”

“Woman’s intuition.” She inhaled slowly, letting out an equally long exhale. “That, and logic. He said it’s been a day and a half since he’s gotten anything new out of her. Time stamps on your emails prove you’ve been working…which means you haven’t been with her.”

I continued staring at the computer screen, engrossed with protecting Ashlyn. Then, when Babs didn’t leave, I looked back up at her.

Babs cocked her head, a dorky smile on her face. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

“That’s quite a leap.”

“I see the way you’ve been with her—the way you’ve always been.”

I rubbed my forehead with the tips of my fingers. Babs wasn’t going to let this go. “Even if I was—and no way am I saying I am—after the festival, Ashlyn will be leaving for New York.”

“It’s a stupid man who lets a little thing like geography get in his way.”

I shook my head. “I can’t go back. I run my business out of Phair now.”

“No such thing as
can’t.
And you can run the Double Shot expansion and the deal with Cambridge just as easily in New York. Maybe Ashlyn’s the reason you
should
go back. Make new memories.” Babs turned off her cigarette. “I know you came to Phair for me, son. That doesn’t mean you have to stay.”

I hadn’t come entirely for Babs. Years ago, with the advent of new technology, I realized I could run the Double Shot business from a remote location, which meant I could build the business anywhere. Phair was as good a place for that as any. Besides, I hated New York. Hated what it reminded me of.

Her dark eyes turned contemplative. “You always get that look on your face when you’re thinking about your father. That sad, unsure look. You’re nothing like him, you know.”

If only that were true.

“You have his business savvy, and his big brown eyes. Other than that…”

“Sometimes I snap.”

“You mean like you did when you put Michael in the hospital that time? Or when you did the same to Kyle Pritchard?” Her hands flew to her hips. “Ask yourself this, Noah. What kind of man would you be if you hadn’t?”

“It’s more than that, Babs, and you know it.”

“Michael had a disease.”

She meant the alcoholism, not the cancer he later died from. “Is that why you stayed with him?”

Babs’ eyes bore into mine. “I stayed because even though you weren’t born from me, you’re still my son.” Softer, she repeated, “He had a disease.”

“If that’s true, who’s to say I won’t catch it?”

“So that’s what this is about?”

I stood. “I shouldn’t keep Lucas waiting.”

A few minutes later, I walked into an empty bar that would be packed this time next week. I nodded to the bartender as he excused himself to the kitchen.

“How’s it going, Lucas?” I said, leaning on the bar counter to face the older man.

He set his glass of lemonade on the napkin in front of him. “It was going well until I stopped getting material from Ashlyn. Can you give me an update?”

I raised my brows. “No offense, but shouldn’t you be asking Ashlyn this?”

“The creative process is a delicate one that I’d hate to interfere with. Per our agreement, I assume you’ve seen her recently?”

I hadn’t, but maybe it was time I did.

Chapter Thirteen

Ashlyn

Wow. I’d stumbled on the magic formula for productive creative writing.

Sex.

More specifically, sex with Noah. Except it had been more than twenty-four hours since I’d seen him and my Noah reserves were low, causing me to fall short during the second scene of the third act.

How had we gone from me hating him to me craving his body?

I looked down at the calendar in the bottom corner of my computer. Rehearsals were starting today. With
Midnight in Summer
still incomplete, Lucas was probably stressed to the max. I had to figure a way past this that didn’t involve sex or opening myself up to greater vulnerability.

Before I could dive back into my script, a message popped up on my computer screen. It was Quinn. I opened the video chat to see my older brother, grinning at me. Ugh. Should have hit “invisible” on the chat screen.

“You look rough,” he said by way of greeting.

“Hello to you, too.”

“Still pissed at me?”

I shrugged. “Would it matter if I was?”

“Probably not,” he said. “How’s the new play coming along? Finished?”

“Unfortunately, no. Just when I think I’ve hit my stride, there’s a setback.”

“Are you doing anything different now than you were doing then?”

I played dumb. “I don’t think so.”

“Think about it. Find the ritual and recreate it. It’s what I do when I’m designing something new.”

Good advice, but Quinn had no idea what he was saying—essentially giving me permission to sleep with his best friend.

I remembered Noah’s reaction yesterday morning when I’d mentioned Quinn. Their friendship had been the proverbial straw that had us agreeing not to sleep together anymore. And while that straw was a valid point, in the broad light of day it absolutely sucked.

Quinn leaned forward, pulling my attention back to him. “You said you were hung up with writing…any way I can help?”

I wished there was. Quinn was incredibly creative in his own way, but that way wasn’t the same as mine. Unfortunately, the only person who could help me was one I needed in a way I couldn’t have.

God, why couldn’t things be simple?

“Ashlyn?”

But what if I had Quinn’s permission?

“Maybe you can help,” I said. “I have these two, um…characters. A brother and sister. The brother is thinking about sleeping with his sister’s best friend. What do you think a realistic reaction would be?”

“Hmm,” Quinn said, pursing his lips. “I don’t know. I’ve never been tempted to sleep with any of your friends.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But if it were my best friend putting the moves on
my
little sister…” Quinn made a show of cracking his knuckles.

I rolled my eyes. “Can you be serious for five minutes?”

“I’m being dead serious, Ash.” His blue eyes stared straight into mine. “It would be way too weird and probably more than I could get past.”

The brother giveth, and he taketh away.

…

I found Jessica in the costume workroom a few minutes later. The way she frantically sliced thread and sewed on her commercial-grade machine, I could tell that, like the rest of us, she was feeling the stress of the approaching show.

But that didn’t stop me from unloading my burden.

In under fifteen minutes I told her about my visit with Kyle at the RV park. How he threatened to ruin my career if I didn’t sleep with him, how Anderson Jones was in line to take his place if Kyle was removed as judge. How Noah had showed up later that night, probably to see how I was doing, only he never got around to asking because we ended up having the hottest sex I’d ever had—and how in doing so, I’d found my muse, blasting the hell out of the beginning of act 3 and inspiring dynamic changes to the end of act 2.

I also told her how incredibly confused I was about how I felt and what it could mean to Quinn and Noah’s friendship if Quinn ever found out.

“Wait, he let himself into your apartment while you were in the shower?”

I nodded. Of all the things to harp on…

“Has he not realized where he is? This is Texas. People get shot for that shit.” She shook her head. “Lucky for him the only thing you’re carrying is a torch.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Seriously, I don’t get why sleeping with him is so confusing,” she said. “It’s just sex. Since you’ve been in Phair, you haven’t gone on one single date.”

Actually, it’d been longer than that. Almost a year, in fact. Longer still since I’d had sex.

“With that kind of record,” Jess added, “it’s no wonder your brain was stalled. Your system needed a reboot. Believe me, it has nothing to do with love.”

I reached for her monster bag of peanut M&Ms and dumped a few in my hand. “It’s confusing because I hate him…or I did hate him, and now I don’t. I might truly be in…oh, I don’t know!”

“You’re over-thinking, Ash. To him, you’re forbidden fruit. To you, he’s the one who got away. It’s the unknown you’re infatuated with. Things will look different when the shine wears off. What you should do now is grab Mr. Sex Pistol, have some hot bump ‘n grind, and finish the freaking play. After all, I can’t do my job until you do yours.” Jess tossed one garment aside and grabbed another. “Act now, think later. That should be the theme for the day. Not analyze the hell out of everything until you screw us all.”

Jessica was stressed, like we all were. I took no offense at her down-to-the-wire testiness. With this being our third show together, by now I was used to it. “Say I follow your advice. How am I supposed to handle Quinn?”

“He said he wouldn’t be able to get past you sleeping with his best friend. Handling him is easy. Don’t tell him.”

I put an M&M in my mouth and chewed very slowly.

“What?” Jess asked. “What are you thinking?”

No. The thought nagging at the back of my mind was stupid. Quinn had made himself clear.

“Ash?”

“He also said something else.”

Jessica finished pinning the hem on a pair of pants. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“When I told him I’d hit a block, he said
find the ritual and recreate it
.”

“Which means…”

“Get naked with Noah.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Jump on the rich guy and pound out the rest of act 3.”

Jessica ran the pants through her machine, raised the zipper foot, clipped the thread, and tossed the finished garment aside. Then she looked up. “Are we done here? Because I need to finish and you need to summon your inner Caroline.”

I chucked the last three M&M’s I held in my hand at her. Laughing, she dodged the attack. “Hey, what did
I
do?”

“You’re a bad influence.”

“Whatever, Ash,” she said, still grinning. “You came here looking for permission from someone and I just gave it to you. Now get the hell out and leave me to my work.”

Just as I turned to leave, my eyes landed on a coat wrapped in cellophane, hanging from a garment rack. I recognized it by the missing bottom button.

“How’d you get Noah’s trench?” I asked, pointing.

“It’s Noah’s? Lucas said he found it on a park bench—which is weird, because it’s a thousand degrees outside. And also because it’s Armani. Lucas thought it looked like something Andy would wear.”

How right he was. I pulled the cellophane off the coat, bunched the fabric up in front of my face, and inhaled the scent of him I’d already committed to memory.

Jess shook her head. “There’s no confusion, Ash. You are so gone over this guy.” Then she shooed me out the door. “Take it to him. It’ll give you an excuse.”

Chapter Fourteen

Noah

After assuring Lucas I’d check on Ashlyn’s progress, my cell rang. I looked down to see Quinn’s name on the display. My mind immediately shifted to Pritchard. He’d been on the move when I’d come down to the bar. Concern over his destination had me feeling twitchy.

“I need to take this,” I said, excusing myself from Lucas. By the time I reached the stairs, leading back up to my office, I answered.

“What’s up, Q?”

“Are you sleeping with my sister?” he fired off.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell would give you that impression?” Christ. Who else was going to ask that question?

“Just some hypothetical story line Ashlyn brought up when I talked to her earlier. It sounded bogus.”

Ashlyn.

She’d be the death of me.

Literally.

“She’s a writer,” I said. “She’s always working out imaginary scenarios in her mind.”

“True… Besides, you’re not exactly her favorite person.”

“There’s that.” I had to get Quinn off this line of questioning before he caught me out. I cleared my throat and said, “So… Pritchard has steered clear of her. He hasn’t sought her out or come around the theater at all.”

“That’s good,” he said.

Climbing the last few stairs, I came to my office door. “You and I both know that guys like him don’t stay in their holes long.”

“According to GPS, he’s headed in the direction of one of the local wineries,” Quinn said.

“That should occupy him for a while at least,” I said, opening my office door and feeling somewhat better.

“Look,” Quinn said. “The real reason I called is I’m coming to Phair for the festival.”

I stopped short. That wasn’t what I’d expected to hear. Or wanted to hear. “When was this decided?”

“I made up my mind after I talked to Ashlyn. She’s my sister. If this Pritchard is threatening her career, I should be there when the play shows. I’ll be there on the Thursday before the festival starts.”

Good. By then the play would be written and there wouldn’t be any reason for him to observe Ashlyn and me together.

“Can I ask you one favor?” I said.

“Shoot.”

“Don’t tell Ashlyn you’re coming. Not yet, anyway. It’s too soon since she’s found out about Pritchard. Since you weren’t planning to come to the festival before, she’ll make the connection I told you.” A connection that would likely leave her feeling betrayed. Probably rightly so. But there had to be some way to make her understand why I
had
to tell Quinn.

Plans for his visit finalized, I hung up, then stared blankly at Ashlyn’s empty window for a good five minutes. Finally, a knock sounded on my office door. When no one barged in after the warning, I knew it couldn’t be Babs. I clicked the mouse over the bar’s security feed.

Ashlyn, wearing a light-colored trench with an upturned collar and a black hat, stood outside my office door.

She licked her lips.

My jeans got tighter.

I adjusted my position in my chair and watched her as she experimented with her posture while she waited for an open door. That’s when I knew that this was Caroline, not Ashlyn.

Shit.

So much for no improv.

I buzzed open the door. She entered the room, like usual. Only when she closed the door, she locked it.

After talking to Lucas and figuring her writing had stalled, I knew why she was here. Our agreement to avoid physical intimacy was about to get blown. Time being an important factor, for the sake of the play, I became Andy, living every man’s fantasy of being visited at the office by a sexy woman in a trench coat…hopefully with nothing on underneath.

“I didn’t order a stripper,” I said, teasing Caroline in a dry tone the way I thought Andy would. “Also, I’m all out of fives.”

She removed her hat and tossed it aside. Fiery red tresses tumbled down, framing a heavily made-up face that looked sexy rather than trashy.

“I like…” I cleared my throat. “I like it straight.”

“Thought you liked it kinky?”

“I meant your hair, you…never mind.”

Ashlyn—no,
Caroline
—walked around and took a seat, legs crossed, on top of the desk in front of me. I inched my chair back to make room. Curiosity as to what really lay hidden beneath that coat had my cock throbbing in a matter of seconds.

Running my hand up and down her calf, I said, “What happened to our agreement?”

Her hand paused over the button she’d been unfastening. “Do you want me to stop?”

Was she serious? Did she really think I’d send her away now? “Just trying to figure out what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“I’ve discovered a link between sex and writing. The more I have, the better I write.” Her eyes met mine and her words came in a rush. “I know we had an agreement to not do…
this
…again because it seemed the most sane thing to do at the time, but I’ve spent the last God knows how many hours staring at a flashing cursor wondering where to go next, and then Quinn called. He gave us his blessing.”

My hand on her calf stilled.

The color in her cheeks deepened. “Or he basically did.”

I didn’t believe her for a second. “How, exactly, did he give his blessing?”

“He said ‘recreate the ritual.’ He told me to go back to doing whatever it was that worked. That means the improvisation…and the sex.”

But while her brother giving us his blessing might be a stretch—or more like a leap across the Pedernales during a flood—there was definitely logic there. And with the way her coat gaped where she’d opened the buttons, revealing the inner curve of her breast, made it feel more like a step across a babbling brook.

“When you said you found a link between writing and sex, did you mean sex in general, or sex with me?” I asked.

Her blue eyes pierced me. “I tried sex with myself. Didn’t have the same effect.”

Jesus H—of all the things to come out of her mouth, I hadn’t expected that. Want for her sliced through me, sharp and wicked.

I pulled my shirt off as she loosened the final button, opening the coat. Inch after inch of her beautiful naked flesh greeted me. Every man’s fantasy, indeed.

Stupid agreements and my phone call with her brother forgotten, I stood and pushed the trench from Ashlyn’s shoulders. “Is this mine?”

“My body or the jacket?” She lowered her lashes then gazed back up at me in coquettish fashion. Then she uncrossed her legs.

“Dear God,” I murmured. The woman was perfection in every way. “How do you come up with this stuff?”

She shrugged. A sly smile turned up the corners of that luscious mouth, “It’s a gift. Just think of it as doing your part to further the arts and save a town.”

I lowered my lips to hers.

She pulled back at the last second. “Wait, do strippers kiss on the mouth?”

“I don’t know. It’s your script.”

“Nope,” she whispered, biting at my neck. “In fact…” She made quick work of unfastening my jeans. “Drop ’em.”

Once I did, she eyed me lasciviously. With clothes tossed aside, she placed her hands on my shoulders and guided me backward into my chair.

My palms covered her breasts.

She removed my hands from her body. “You can look, but not touch.”

“No way. I don’t like this.”

She pulled out the handcuffs I’d hidden in the pocket of my trench last week. “I’m not afraid to use these if I have to.”

With a little smile, I leaned back in my chair.

Ashlyn dropped to her knees between mine, wrapping her hand as much as she could around my cock. She licked red lips.

Gazes locked, my fingers threaded the back of her hair and I guided her head down.

“Sweet Jesus,” I hissed, as from tip to stem, she slowly sucked me into the hot cavern of her mouth. Combining that with her silken tongue and her firm pumping fist, I reached the precipice of unraveling in record time.

“Come here, sweetheart,” I said, trying to pull her away.

She looked up at me with those big blue eyes. “No. I want to taste you.”

I couldn’t say no to her. Not when the mere sight of her tongue flicking over the tip of my shaft made me want to come.

“Fuck,” I growled, hips rising to meet her mouth. Moments later, unable to take any more, every muscle in my body stiffened. She moaned her pleasure at my release as she swallowed every drop.

“You’re so amazing,” I said, pulling Ashlyn onto me so that she straddled my lap. Her legs dangled over the arms of my chair.

“I missed you,” she said.

My heart skipped a beat. That’s when I realized I was in too deep.

Way too deep. As in, Crater Lake deep. The Marianas Trench deep.

I loved this woman.

I loved her guts, and her brains, and her vivid imagination. I loved her smart mouth, her passion, and yes, the fact that she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. And the way she looked at me now, like the mystery of the Universe had revealed itself and she liked what she saw, told me she loved me, too.

Things might be rosy right now, but life with my father had proven how quickly it could change. And I’d rather die before I hurt her.

But I couldn’t turn her away now. Not when she’d come here not only needing
me
, but needing my help—for the play, for Broadway, and for Phair.

Looking at her, so open and vulnerable, had my cock stirring again.

I locked my arms around her and took her mouth in a kiss meant to make her mine. Ashlyn’s bones seemed to liquefy as she molded herself around me. Her hips circled, bringing that scorching part of her body in direct contact with the now fully aroused part of mine.

She was wet like I hadn’t felt her before. Just knowing how turned on she was whittled away at my self-control.

My lips traveled to her jaw, down her neck. Her back arched as I moved lower, kissing the tops of her breasts, between them, watching her nipples pucker and darken in anticipation.

Then I feasted on her mouth all over again.

“Show me how you touched yourself,” I said against her ear, “when you imagined it was me.”

Hooded eyelids raised as a little smile pulled up the corners of her mouth. Slowly, she pulled my arms away, linked her fingers over the tops of mine, and placed my hands on her breasts. Her skin heated as she guided my hands with hers. Together, we rolled her nipples between our fingers until she cried out, moaning my name.

Last night I’d fantasized about watching Ashlyn touch herself, of catching her unaware and not being able to turn away. Those fantasies left me feeling a little dirty because she didn’t know I’d watched or how bad I wanted her. But that was nothing compared to this reality—to feeling what she felt because she took me there with her, and in knowing that she trusted me, because she didn’t hesitate in doing what I asked.

Keeping one hand on her breast, the other hand over mine trailed down her stomach, turning so that neither of our limbs was in an awkward position. Then my finger, along with hers, slid as far inside her as we could go.

“Oh God, Noah, that feels good.” Her voice was raspy, her breath ragged.

I’d never experienced anything so erotic as watching her, feeling how her insides swelled around our aligned digits. My cock throbbed with an urgency to take her slow and deep.

Sensing my need, Ashlyn pulled out. Using the arm rests, she braced herself, raising her hips as I positioned myself between her thighs. Then slowly, she lowered, fitting tight around me like her body had been tailor-made for mine.

“Noah,” she moaned, working her hips exactly the way I liked. Watching her move in synch with my upward thrusts was like poetry—a perfect sonnet of unmatched beauty that let me know, with her, anything was possible. That being with her offered something better than love.

It felt a lot like redemption.

Ashlyn kept a firm hold on her release, waiting for me, I knew. And when the quivering started in her belly, moving through her limbs, I wasn’t far behind.

“Come on, sweetheart, let go. Come for me.”

Our eyes locked and my mind blanked. Spasms ripped through her seconds before the rolling wave of my own orgasm knocked me flat. I’d never experienced anything as mind-blowing, nothing as intense.

Burying my face into the curve of her neck, I pulled her hard against me. Her fingers of one hand threaded my hair. With the other, she traced along the line of my jaw.

“Kiss me, Noah,” she whispered. “Kiss me like I matter.”

My head dipped. Her ragged breath fanned my face.

Our lips locked.

And yes, I kissed her. I took her mouth the same way I took her body—slow and sensual—like she mattered. Because like it or not, she damn well did.