For Kicks (16 page)

Not even that would deter him. Seeing her at work this morning was a strange turn-on. She was right. He probably looked at her like he shouldn’t. But so did everyone else. The women seemed impressed by her, the men affected in more than one way. It surprised him how much he liked that, appreciated her capability.

There had to be a way to show how much he appreciated how she’d pulled this campaign off without making it seem like an employee incentive. So he’d gone shopping with her in mind, picking up a genealogy workbook he hoped might prompt her to actually call her parents. He and Janelle had pieced together a family tree as best they could for Ashley’s baby book. This book had questions she could ask, ways to pull memories into stories. Memories forever lost to him.

The workbook was for her, but the poker kit was for them. On his list of ways to pass time, poker hovered near the top. He could teach her a lesson or two by playing strip poker, but he knew after a few rounds she’d turn the tables on him. And he could just picture his friends’ faces when Breeze walked into his house and sat down at the table for their weekly game.

They’d be drooling, for one. And underestimating her, for another. She was smart and observant and would be a shark at poker. Maybe after the launch, they’d sneak away to Vegas.

He blinked against the dreamy glaze in his eyes and focused on poker. He wanted her to be able to understand enough about poker to enjoy it. Kind of like sex.

Damn. Everything with Breeze came back to sex. His need for her careened dangerously towards the limits of his control, burning so hot he worried it might burn right out. She’d tire of him quickly if he didn’t show her there was more to him than a good time.

His heart stalled at the thought. He prided himself on being a good time. On enjoying life to the fullest at every moment. Not worrying too much about what might happen, instead living in the present. She made him think about things he couldn’t, at least not yet.

What kind of idiot planned a future with a woman who insisted on keeping the relationship under wraps? On someone whose trust in you was tenuous at best. The kind of idiot who daydreamed his afternoon away in hotel lobbies, that’s who.

The air shifted, and he felt her there before he looked up to spy her walking through the doors, flanked by Judy Lawson. The reception desk was on one side of the main entry, the lobby on the other. He’d found an upholstered chair near the entrance, but behind an alcove wall in case she didn’t arrive alone.

Good thing, since Judy stayed with her all through check-in. Logan fished a news magazine from the bag and held it up to obscure his face if Judy happened to look his way. He kept it there until she left.

Gathering his suitcase, hers that he never returned to Anthony, and the bag of books, he stepped to the elevator, watching as Breeze collected her bags. He stood at the elevators, listening to the click of her heels as she made her way from the lobby until she stalled a few feet from him. He didn’t turn, but could see her wide-eyed expression mirrored in the polished metal of the elevator doors. Reaching forward, he pressed the call button.

“Where were you?” she whispered, fighting a smile. “Judy came in with me. If she saw you…”

The elevator car arrived and he stepped inside without a word. He stared straight ahead, biting his cheek to keep from making any expression. Breeze narrowed her eyes as she entered, looking him up and down. But before she could say anything a heavy-set, balding man suited up for business joined them.

All three stared straight ahead, Breeze and the gentleman each pressing a button for their floor. Logan watched the other man’s gaze travel over Breeze, dripping over her, pooling at the cleavage hinted at by the open buttons of her blouse.

He didn’t feel jealous, more saddened. Dressed as professionally as the man, Breeze presented an image of single-minded career woman. And yet, Baldy stripped her of her guise and reduced her to her parts in the first thirty seconds. No wonder she needed to desexualize herself to be successful at work. Combining the two wasn’t possible for simple minds like this lout.

The bell dinged, indicating the fifth floor. He followed Breeze as she stepped out and marched down the hall. She stopped at a door, swiped a plastic card through the reader and a green light flashed their entrance.

He reached around her, pushing the door open and nudging her inside with his shoulder. Her feet stuttered, but she entered the room. She parked her bags against the wall of the small room and turned to face him, her eyes blazing with what he guessed was indignation.

“Say something, damn it.”

He kicked the door closed and maneuvered his bags next to hers. The room had an open alcove for a closet, one door he guessed went to the bathroom, a queen-sized bed covered in a polyester bedspread, one nightstand, a desk with a television on top angled towards the bed and a long couch upholstered to match the wallpaper.

“In LA, we’re staying in my room.” He stepped closer, watching as she shook her head and blinked frantically.

“What? Why are you coming to LA?”

“For the Kicks launch.”

She shook her head. “I’m going to get an early flight and go home so I can be in the store for the first day of sales.”

“You should stay. It will be a great party. Food, celebrities, press. You’re the reason Mendelssohn’s kept the account, you should enjoy the perks.”

“I wasn’t invited.”

“I’m inviting you.” He reached behind her and undid the barrette holding her mass of curls at the nape of her neck.

“We can’t go together.”

“You’ll go for Mendelssohn’s, I’ll go for me.”

“You mean for Nitrous?”

“Not really. The spokesperson is a friend of mine.” Sure he was working that night, but more as Kellen’s keeper than the Kicks brand manager.

“You know Kellen Jackson? Did you play soccer together?”

“Since we were four.” Until a bus accident had ended Logan’s career and distance had them drifting apart.

“Could you get an autograph for Anthony? He is a huge fan. Huge.” She smiled so wide her cheeks brightened. “He’s threatening to take home the Kicks posters when the set changes for the holiday season.”

“If you come to the party, you can get an autograph yourself.” He leaned in, taking his time to memorize every curve of her face.

“I don’t want it to seem—” She gasped as his lips brushed against hers. She melted, parting her lips so he could reacquaint himself with the taste of her. He pulled away and licked his lips.

“I like those shoes.” He stepped away from her and sat on the bed, toeing off his Kicks.

“My shoes?” She looked down at the pointed-toe heels, then back at him. “Why?”

“They make you taller than usual. I don’t have to bend down so much. Come here.” He held out a hand.

“I think you have the wrong idea.” She tucked her hair behind her ears.

“No, I have a brilliant idea.” He motioned with his hand for her to step closer, but she stayed rooted.

“I don’t want to have sex with you right now.”

“Yes, you do.” He smiled until she looked away, studying her shoes again. Time for plan B. “But not yet. Take off your shoes.” He stood, picked up his bag of tricks and crossed the room to the couch.

“You just said that you liked them.” She did as he asked, but eyed him with suspicion as she came closer.

“Come on, I got you presents.” He pulled a box from the bag and opened it, removing a pair of socks. He was skeptical they’d help him do anything more than a normal foot rub, but Breeze seemed to like gimmicks.

“What are those?”

“Reflexology socks. You put them on and when I rub your feet, I can concentrate on where you’re tense. I think. They came with directions. You can read them to me.”

She broke into a fit of nervous giggles and scampered back to her bag, digging in one of the pockets. She skipped back to where he sat and showed him her find. Reflexology socks.

“Do they work?”

“I’m not sure. I thought it was interesting though.”

“Grab the pillows from the bed and come here.” He peeled off his socks and replaced them with the ones diagramed to show which parts of his feet corresponded to his head, kidneys, and such. He looked up to see her staring at him, clutching the pillows to her body. “Take off your coat and stay awhile.”

He tossed the pillows against the opposite end of the couch while she unbuttoned her blazer and laid it on the desk chair. She sat against the pillows and plopped her feet in his lap.

“Oh no, this isn’t a freebie.” He turned, stretching his legs along the couch outside of hers. “I do you and you do me.” He pulled on her socks and stared. “Yours are better than mine. They have spots on the top too.”

“According to the book that comes with them, you’re supposed to do belly breathing.”

“What’s that?”

“Deep breaths.”

“Ah.” He ran his thumbs up the arches of her feet, noting the different colored bubbles covering the socks. Inside each bubble was a word telling what body part the color corresponded to. His eyes widened. Hers were much more detailed than his. And a bit naughtier. On the instep of her foot, clear as day, was the word breast.

He needed no more prompting and began his massage there. His dirty mind found all the naughty spots; the purple dot of her uterus just below the inside of her ankle, the place where her shin met her foot for her fallopian tubes, just below her ankle on the outside for her ovaries.

It must be a subtle effect, because she stared off over his shoulder, kneading the arch of his foot. She wasn’t even looking at the spots.

“This is nice.” She smiled, leaning her head against the couch. “I didn’t think we could do this.”

“Do what?”

“Not talk.”

“I can be quiet long enough to bore you, I promise.” This direct attack wasn’t working. Time for a more round about approach. He sought out the middle of her big toe, and the word brain.

“It’s just good to know, is all. It’s weird we both got the socks. I thought of this when I got them. Not doubling up, but playing with them together. Like we did with the cards.”

“You just wanted a look at my feet. You probably have a foot fetish.”

“If I did, I’d want them smaller. These are huge.” She lifted his feet by his big toes and then let them plop back down in her lap.

“You know what they say, big feet…” He rubbed just below her big toe, the spots for her neck. She stretched it from side to side.

“Big shoes. I know.” She hid a yawn behind the back of her hand.

“It’s all about the shoes with you. Long day?”

“Never ending. I had an overnight flight from Mississippi. Mississippi? No, Missouri. St. Louis. Anyway, then the best-set today and a training class.” He moved to the spot marked shoulders under her baby toe. She let out a deep breath. “I could fall asleep right now.”

His thumbs traced the inside arch of her foot, the blue part marked spine. “It’s only four.”

“I’ve been up since four yesterday morning.” She yawned again. “Sorry. I knew I was meeting with Judy and wanted everything perfect, so I polished my presentation, caught up on all my e-mail. Perfect, perfect, perfect.” Her head lolled against the couch cushion, her hands just holding his feet. “What about your day?”

“Yesterday was work and a swim. Got up, took an early flight, ogled you all morning, and now I’m here.”

“You swim a lot.”

“It burns nervous energy.”

“So does running. Maybe we should go for a run.” She didn’t bother to hide her yawn behind her hand this time. “Tomorrow.”

“I can’t run.” He shifted, focusing on the outside edge of her foot and the top of her heel marked lower back. He didn’t want to talk about it now, ever really. But she needed to know at some point. “I’m lucky I can walk.”

“Why?”

“Take the socks off.” His pulse raced, and he forced his breathing to steady.

She pulled off the sock on his right foot, her fingers moving over his flesh, but he couldn’t feel it. Probably tracing the raised pink scars where he had no sensation.

Her gaze was hot on him, but he couldn’t meet it. He’d never let anyone actually look at the scars that didn’t have a medical degree. Even when Janelle asked, he’d said no. But he wanted Breeze to see, to see all of him.

“What happened?” She pulled off the other sock and began rubbing his feet in places he could feel.

“Bus accident. We were traveling between games; I was asleep in my berth. I just remember spinning. It felt like I’d been stuck in a dryer, hot and dark and tumbling, except my feet were stuck so I was getting whipped all over the place. And then it was quiet.”

“You passed out?”

“Yeah. Woke up on the side of the road.” The image of Kellen screaming in his face dropped his temperature so fast he couldn’t suppress a shudder.

“And that was the end of professional soccer.”

“You need two good feet to play. Now if it had been my hands, I could have gone a few more years.”

“Thank God it wasn’t your hands.” She released his feet and leaned forward. “I really like your hands.” She reached between them, taking his fingers in hers. “Let’s put these hands to good use.”

“Breeze, you’re really tired. Maybe you should take a nap before dinner instead.”

She climbed up off the couch and cast a glance at the windows. She drew the drapes closed, darkening the room with a warm orange glow. A satisfied smile played on her lips when she turned back around.

“I’m going to take a nap, right after you make love to me, nice and slow. Relax me right to sleep.” She stepped closer to the couch. “Want to see something?”

“What?”

She unbuttoned the blouse, revealing a lacy black demi-bra with a pink bow at the center hugging her breasts. Shimmying out of her pants, she revealed matching black lace panties, a pink ribbon dancing around her waist and a matching bow beneath her belly button.

“You won’t let me see it in the light?”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m serious about falling asleep after.”

“Ah, then drapes closed it is.” Reaching out, he wrapped his hands over her hips, the lace scratching at his palms as he pulled her closer.