Game For Love: Game On (Kindle Worlds Novella) (6 page)

“A
’ight.” He stood too and reached for his tank top.

Laurel
picked up her sundress and slipped it over her head, then grabbed her bag and drink and waited for him to gather his things.

She told herself she had to do this for work.
She’d go to his bungalow and make one hundred percent sure this was not the man Becky had hired her to find.

“It’s just down this way.” He tipped his head toward a private path.

As Trent moved to stand next to Laurel and dwarfed her own five-foot-seven inches, she ignored the knowledge that she didn’t need to go to his private accommodations for proof. She’d found all she needed. The man who’d seduced her client in Miami might have had a credit card with Trent O’Shea’s name on it, but he was not the man in front of her. He might have stolen Trent’s wallet or his whole identity. She didn’t know which.

All s
he did know was that physically every clue told her that this man here with her could not be that man from Miami. The tattoo, his eye color, his height . . . Laurel had all the evidence she needed to support that.

She needed to call the client, tell her the findings, and then renew her search for an identity thief in Miami.

What Laurel should do didn’t seem to matter as she turned to where Trent waited for her by the path to his bungalow. “Great. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Trent opened the door and glanced back at Laurel as he led the way into the living room area of his bungalow. “This is it. My home away from home for the week. I have a room service menu ’round here somewhere. And there’s a bottle of champagne in the fridge, if you want some.”

Apparently, he babbled like an idiot when alone with a gorgeous woman
, something he hadn’t noticed before. Then again, he’d gone a long time without sex. The last time had been April of last year, right before he’d left to start OTA for the season. She’d been Pamela Jones, his old girlfriend from Texas. She’d just broken up with her boyfriend. He was single. They were comfortable together. It was simple and easy to fall into bed with her.

The polar opposite of how he was feeling now with this stranger with the thick auburn hair he itched to tangle his hands in and curves built for speed and excitement.

“Champagne sounds wonderful.” She smiled and his gaze dropped to her lips. From there, it was only a short leap to imagining himself kissing her.

What the hell had
he been thinking inviting her here?

The privacy, the view, the champagne—this night could only end one way and that was with her under him in that big bed he’d slept
in alone last night. Of course, he could end up under her instead. Or behind her. Or with him holding her in the pool as she wrapped her long legs around his waist and—

Go
od god almighty, this was a bad idea. Even so, his persistent erection didn’t seem to be negatively affected by the dangerous path Trent had led them down. It was blissfully ignorant of Trent’s hesitation and was ready for action.

Second thoughts did him no good now. She was here and he’d promised her dinner. He headed for t
he desk and grabbed the leather-bound menu.

“What are you in the mood for?”

One look told him that his question, worded pretty suggestively quite by accident, had her eyes narrowing with what looked like interest. In him, not the food.

“Anything you want. I’m game.” Her a
nswer had his mouth going dry as he thought of the many things he wanted that she might be game for.

“I
had the Stone Crabs last night. They were really good. There’s steak. Or salad. Lots of seafood . . .” He shrugged, not knowing this woman well enough to be able to suggest something.

It
wasn’t lost on him that he couldn’t come up with what she might like for dinner, but he had no problem thinking of various and creative ways to take her, here in the bungalow and all over the resort.

“Here, take a look. I’ll go get that champagne.”
He covered the space between them, thrust the menu toward her and then retreated to a safe distance.

S
he stood by the glass sliding doors that overlooked his private patio and the spectacular view of the horizon beyond. The deeply colored sunset painting the sky bathed her in a halo of rich light and natural beauty. The vision of taking her right there amid the splendor of nature was too tempting. Trent needed to distance himself by at least a few feet.

If this was back home in Texas and he was Trent O’Shea, he’d take this girl home to her place and make both of their fantasies
come true. But here he was Mr. Warren and a liar. That not so small detail changed everything and not for the better.

Drawing in a deep breath, he opened the fridge door. He reached for the bottle and decided he’d enjoy dinner, but that was it. His sexual dry spell wasn’t going to be
broken tonight.

Unlike the crops
that needed rain, he’d survive this drought. That still didn’t stop him from hoping it would be over soon. He was long overdue for a downpour.

He yanked on the cork with a bit too much force. White foam bubbled over his fist where it gripped the neck of the bottle. He thrust his arm toward the sink to avoid making a mess all over the floor and himself.

Trent didn’t miss the symbolism. Just like that bottle, he too was ready to blow. Time to order some food and keep them both busy with something nice and safe.

He poured two glasses of champagne and carried them to her.
Handing her one, he asked, “Decide on something?”

“It all looks good, but I think I did.”
She ran one delicate finger down the menu as she told him what she wanted.

“
A’ight. I’ll call it in.” He put down his glass and reached for the phone.

Laurel
had settled on the Mahi Mahi with a romaine salad. Trent ordered the sirloin and the bacon and blue cheese polenta.

He added one order of the chef’s signature Cashew Crusted Key Lime Pie for them
to split. Even though she’d said she didn’t want dessert when he’d asked he didn’t miss how her eyes lit up at just the mention.

If he couldn’t have what he really wanted—that being Laurel—he
could eat well instead.

Hanging up the receiver, he turned to her. “They say about half an hour.”

“Great. Thanks.
”

“You’re welcome.
” Thank God for the super efficiency of the staff. He’d only have to come up with thirty minutes of small talk with Laurel. Even so, half an hour seemed like an eternity.

No wonder he had no girlfriend. H
e hated this kind of stuff. All the awkwardness of a first date. Having to make conversation when he really didn’t know the person. He grabbed his champagne glass and tipped his head toward the door. “Want to sit outside?”

“Sure.” She followed him out and moved directly to the r
ailing, staring at the horizon.

She
took in a deep breath that raised her breasts higher. Trent noticed because as spectacular as the landscape was, he still couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

“You have a beautiful view.”
She turned to look at him and he had to yank his gaze up to the safe zone.

“Yup. That’s why I come here.”
That and the fact it was a good place to hide out for a week.

“So what do you do here all day for fun?” She glanced at his forearms and smiled. “Hit the gym?”

“I should, but I haven’t yet. Today I had an hour and a half massage and then my big workout was walking to the pool with my book.” He lifted one shoulder. “I’ll get to the gym eventually but—”

“You’re on vacation and it’s time to relax.”

“Exactly.”

“This is sure a nice place to do it.”

It was only a matter of time before Laurel asked him something he wouldn’t be able to answer truthfully. Even something as simple as what he did for a living would force him to lie to her, making the situation even more stressful.

Maybe he could steer the
conversation into safer waters. “So, tell me some stuff about you. Like, what’s your first memory?”

She smiled. “My great grandmother and great grandfather sitting in my parents’ living room. They died when I was three, but I can picture them there.”

“That’s nice. I’m glad you remember them.”

“Me too. Okay, your turn. What’s your first memory?”
Still leaning on the railing, she turned her head to look at him.

“My granddaddy putting me up in the saddle in front of him and telling me to hold on tight to the horn.” Trent smiled. “Then he kicked that horse into a gallop and man, I was hooked. My momma though was not so happy. I don’t remember that part but yeah, it’s been discussed at a few family dinners.”

“I’m sure.” Laurel laughed. “Is he still around, your grandfather?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s still as active and as crazy as ever.”
Trent smiled. “Lord willing, I hope I’m just like him at his age.”

“My turn to come up with a question.” Laurel turned to face him completely and Trent braced himself for what she might ask, suddenly regretting this little game of twenty questions he’d begun. “Best Christmas ever.”

That he could answer. “Easy. Age five. I woke up to a puppy with a bow around his neck licking my face.”

“How cute.
”

“Yeah. He was. In my five-
year old wisdom, I named him Sue.”

“You named
him
Sue?” She laughed.

Trent grinned wide. “Granddad
dy’s favorite song is
A Boy Named Sue
.”

“
That’s sweet.”

He tipped his head to the side. “Not sure how the rest of the family or the dog felt about it, but my grandfath
er laughed his head off. Okay, your turn. Best Christmas.”

“Eleven years old. The
last one before my parents got divorced.” Her mood visibly fell and Trent silently cussed himself for coming up with this stupid game. “Do you have a big family?” She seemed to pull herself out of the mood as she changed the subject.

“Not really. Just me and one sister, and that was two questions in a row for you.”

She smiled. “I cheated.”

As sexy and beautiful as she was, Trent sensed more beneath all that. A strength. A determination. He had no doubt Laurel liked to win, in games and in life, and she’d do anything to make that happen.

He supposed he was like that too. He’d worked harder than anyone else on his high school team to get that scholarship to the University of Texas. And once there he’d worked his butt off, juggling school and football, often at the expense of a social life. He still did that during the season—sacrificed everything for the game.

But now he was off and for the next few months his life was his own. Maybe he needed to cut himself some slack and let himself enjoy it.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Laurel’s lip
s bowed with a smile. “So am I.”

T
he distant sound of a knock on the bungalow’s door had them both turning.

Laurel lifted one brow. “
Dinner already? That was fast.”

“It sure was.” Just when he’d been enjoying their conversation. “I notice they tend to under promise and over deliver ’round here.”

“Better than the opposite, I guess.”

“You ain’t kidding.” He headed inside to answer the door.

The meal occupied them without benefit of much more conversation than small talk and commentary centered on the resort’s amazing food until Laurel paused with her fork poised in the air. “Is your steak not okay?”

“Hm?” Trent glanced down at his plate. “It’s fine. Why?”

“You don’t seem to be eating much.”

It was true. He’d taken a few bites but had spent most of the time drinking his champagne and feeling oddly uncomfortable eating in this very private setting with a woman who was virtually a stranger.

Strange, that, because there had been times back in college he’d woken up with a warm body next to his and had to work hard to come up with her name.

“The food is fine. It’s—” Trent shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s kind of like how on a first date you lose your appetite?”

A smile lit her face as the dusk settled in more firmly around them. “Is this a date?”

“No
. . . Maybe.” He shook his head, and then stood to go flip on the patio light before they were eating in the complete darkness. It might attract bugs, but he didn’t need the temptation of being alone with this woman in the dark. When he got back to his seat he dared to look at her. He saw by her smirk that she was amused by him. “You’re laughing at me.”

“No. I think you’re adorable.
First date or not, I never imagined that a man with the kind of body and good looks any Greek god would be jealous of would be nervous having dinner with little old me.”

He s
miled at her compliments of him and her modesty about herself. “I guess that stems from you being pretty dang goddess-worthy yourself and from me not having had a whole lotta first dates in the past couple of years.”