Gorgeous Rotten Scoundrel (6 page)

"Your turn."

"Is this a challenge?"

"It's whatever you want it to be," he said with a mischievous smirk.

"Okay," I said, feeling dangerously flirty. I opened up the remaining closed button on his henley collar.

"Let me make it easier for you," he said, pulling it off.
No don't do that.
He did that
.
"All yours."

I pursed my lips, looking for a suitable spot to rest them upon.
Damn his body is fly.
I gave him a squinty look of mischief. "Lie down."

"Woah. I knew you had it in you."

"Shhh..." I said, stumbling onto my feet from the bench on which we were seated. I kneeled down and tugged on his pants just a smidgen and found that sweet spot on his hip bone.
I was drunk, okay?
He is one of the hottest men on the planet and I am a red-blooded American woman. Plus, those fuck me lines are like sex magnets. Cut me a break.
I licked my lips and ran the tip of my tongue along his hip. He started laughing like a boy and it endeared me to him.

"Ticklish?"

"Can't you tell?"

I pour the salt on the spot. "Ready?"

"I just lay here like an innocent victim. Do what you must," he pressed the back of his hand against his forehead like a damsel in distress.

"Here," I put the lime in his mouth. His eyes widened in disbelief.

I dipped back down to his hip, this time mouthing his pelvis a bit, threw back the shot, and used my teeth to pull the lime out of his mouth, lingering for an extra millisecond.

"You are damned sexy," Heath said sitting up.

"Oh cut it out boss man."

"Cut the humble act."

"No, it's not an act. I'm being realistic. You date models. I'm sure nothing impresses you."

"You are just as hot, and most runway models don't have a rack or an ass like that."

"Watch it, Mister," I said, playfully jabbing his bare chest with my index finger.

"Hey, you're the one sucking on my pelvic bone." We both laughed.
Okay, now I'm hammered.

"Purely professional pelvic bone sucking. We should head back inside," I said in a labored manner. "Mindy is probably wondering where the hell I went."

"Okay, help me up. Will you?"

"Lazy bum," I said giving him both of my hands. I try once, but he doesn't give me any assistance. "Come on, what are you, like six feet, 180 pounds?"

"Actually six-three, 195."

"Help a girl out. These heels are tough enough with my weight on them in this sand and not an additional two hundred pounds."

"Okay, let's count to three."

"You are so difficult. One, two, three!"

I gave him a big tug, and he stood up with great force at the same moment. Before I knew it I was losing my footing, stepping back into the sand, with Heath's frame falling over me. The sand puffed up like clouds around us. I squinted as the grains rained back down.

There he was: shirtless, warm, his chest pressing against mine with each inhale. We both laughed, a hearty, drunken, laugh. And then, he looked at me, and the way the new moon rested just above his right shoulder in the navy night sky, the smile in his eyes, the mischief in his smirk--In that moment, the holes in my armor allowed for a structural failure. He leaned in, and he placed his lips on mine. They felt like soft pillows; they tasted so fresh. My mouth opened just slightly, and he tugged on my lip with the perfect combination of sexiness and playfulness.

And then our tongues danced.

CHAPTER TEN

Ooh, it felt so good:
the warmth of his body against mine under the night breeze, the reckless abandon of kissing this gorgeous man in the sand.

What the hell am I doing?

"Wait. Stop!" I pushed him away, I didn't want to, but I knew I must. This was the booze, and the moonlight, and our laughter culminating into this romantic moment and it was a very bad idea. This was the same guy who was banging two models (at the same time I might add) a little over a week ago.

"What's wrong?" Heath asked, as if this was all normal, as if a guy taking shots off of and making out with his assistant was perfectly normal.
Nothing to see here folks, just move along.

"This. This is wrong. You're my boss and I'm drunk and you're drunk. And...it's just a bad idea. Okay?"

Heath looked at me as if I was speaking a foreign language, and I guess to him I was. Logic, common sense, and self-control: those were all foreign concepts to him. Just as he was about to say something, my headset (which was barely on my head) lit up with commotion.

I need back up at the front door!

"Shit, something's up I think," I said to Heath.

"What?"

"I don't know. Security said they needed back up. I gotta go check it out."

"I'll come with."

Heath helped me up and we quickly brushed off as much sand as we could from our clothing and hair. We made our way to the front of the house and were immediately met with a scuffle. Large men in jackets labeled SECURITY held back a person I could barely see, just the occasional arm or leg flailing out from the huddle.

"What's going on out here?" Heath asked.

"Sir, we've got it under control, please go inside."

I didn't know what to do. Heath had mentioned people who were not invited often attempted to get into his parties, but this was far more resistance than I had expected.

"Should I call the police?" I called out.

"We'll escort him off the property. We've got it taken care of."

"Is that him?" The mystery man's voice called out; I finally got a glimpse of his face. He looked to be in his forties, with a close haircut to disguise his baldness.

"Clark?" Heath asked.

"You son of a bitch!"

"Oh shit," Heath said under his breath.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. You should head back in."

"You son of a bitch. Tara just left me! She told me everything, you scumbag!"

Of course.
No party was worth getting this worked up. It's Heath's dick poking where it shouldn't. And to think, just moments before, I felt special, like I was the singular focus of his attention. I bet Tara did too. Heath probably did deserve a punch in the face, but once again, he was being spared consequences.

I looked over at Heath in disbelief and hoping he would tell me there was a misunderstanding. But instead, he simply shrugged at me.
At least he's honest.

"Unbelievable," I said under my breath. "I have to go check on the catering."

As I walked through the foyer, I shook my head in disappointment. What the hell was I thinking, getting carried away with him like that? I could only hope Heath's loose lips would be in my favor tomorrow concerning any post-kiss awkwardness. A guy like him must see women daily who he's done far more with; he can't afford to get all tense around those situations.

"What the hell happened out there?" It was Mindy.

"Don't ask. I cannot wait for this night to be over," I said, rolling my eyes.

"What is all this?" She asked, brushing her hand against my hair and dress. "Is this sand?"

Just then, I saw it on the big screen TV, ESPN was playing and there were clips of Brock on the screen. The ticker at the bottom scrolled the words:
NBA Star Brock Jameson, possible torn ACL
.

"Turn that up!" I called out, running over to the screen. I snatched the remote away from one of the guests.

"Early reports are stating that Brock Jameson, NBA All-Star, injured his knee during practice. Sources are saying that doctors are running several tests to determine the severity of his injury and if he will need surgery."

"Oh my god, what's wrong with Brock?" Mindy said when she caught up with me.

"I don't know. It's his knee apparently." I glanced at my phone, it was far too late to call. "This can't be good."

"I'm sure he'll be okay."

I suddenly felt guilty about staying behind. He would probably have to be off of his feet. Normally, I would be the one to feed him and run errands during such a stressful time.

Mindy wrapped her arm around my shoulders and lead me away from the TV. "We'll get a hold of him first thing tomorrow. Okay?"

"Heath kissed me."

"What?"

"We fell in the sand and he kissed me. I stopped him. The fight out front was from some guy who I think is claiming Heath slept with his wife or girlfriend. My first night here, he had a threesome in the middle of the night while he had the music on full-blast."

"What!"

"He is a nightmare."

"I need details, sister!"

Then, in the distance I spotted the devil himself walking towards me. I tilted my chin in his direction so Mindy would know he was coming and shut her trap.

"Can we talk for a sec?" he asked.

"I'm busy."

"Come on."

"Is it about the party?"

"No."

"Then I'm busy."

"Then it is about the party."

I looked over at Mindy who awkwardly shrugged at me. Heath lead me through the crowd, and that's when I saw Illy.
Ill
is more like it. She wore a teeny-tiny white dress, the front crossed over and dipped all the way down to her belly button, her tiny, perky runway model boobs a sneeze away from complete exposure. She cocked an eyebrow when she spotted Heath's hand on the small of my back and headed towards us like we were at the end of a catwalk.

Ever the
socialisto
(stole that from Mindy), Heath greeted her like everything was all rainbows and unicorns.

"Heath," she said in her accent, "I have been looking all over for you!"

She kissed him on the lips. Right on the lips that were kissing me minutes ago.

"You remember Sadie, right? The interview the other day?"

"Not really. I thought the girl who visited you was homely." She looked me up and down. "Then again, maybe I do."

What a heinous bitch.

Heath laughed a little to himself. "That must have been someone else. Sadie is beautiful."
Nice try Prince Charming.

Illy finally acknowledged me by shoving a drink in my direction. "Could you get me fresh one?"

"Get it yourself, bitch."

Okay, let me interject here. Was it unprofessional of me? Yes. Did she deserve it? Absolutely. I thought they only made women that horrendous in movies. Normally, I could have composed myself, but just finding out about Brock being hurt and being pretty sauced, well, my inhibitions were down.

"Okay!" Heath said, pushing me forward to continue towards our destination. "Ladies, let's be nice. Illy, I'll see you later?" He winked at her.

She hesitantly nodded at him.
Take that!

"So what did you want to talk about?" I asked when we finally reached a quiet spot.

"I wanted to fill you in on the commotion outside."

"Oh you mean the guy whose girl you fucked?"

Heath sighed. "He's gone. It's all taken care of."

"Great? Can I get back to work?"

"What's your deal?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you mad about the kiss?"

The truth is. I wasn't exactly sure why I was mad at the time. Now I do. I was mad because it was a defense mechanism. I knew anger was the only way I could stop myself from riding his boner to Uranus. Instead of answering I simply deflected with an eye-roll.

"If I recall correctly, you kissed me right back. You sucked on my pelvis for Christ's sake. What kind of kinky shit is that?"

"Don't put this on me! You keep pushing me to drink and to have fun and to loosen up. I cannot loosen up. We have a working relationship. There is no room for us to be loose with each other."

"We're both adults and I don't prescribe to arbitrary rules."

"You are something else. You know that? Arrogant, pompous...piggish!"

He leaned in closer and closer.
Oh no, it's happening again.

"Piggish? I've been called a lot of things, but never piggish. Where do you come up with this shit?"

"Happy to be your first."

"You want me to kiss you."

"No."

"Then stop me."

He leaned in to kiss me, and I sort of, kind of, pushed back. But I'll admit, it was a weak attempt, because dammit he's so fucking hot and his kisses taste like sex. If there was a sex-flavored popsicle, it would be called the Heathsicle.
Maybe we could do this just this once and get it out of our systems,
I thought to myself, pulling him in by his shirt collar as we kissed.

He moved to my neck, kissing it so softly, and it made everything tingle.
I cannot believe I am making out with a supermodel
. He buried his face into the crook of my neck, kissing softly, but pausing in between, caressing my skin with his warm breaths.

Why is he doing this to me? It's like he knows I have a weak spot for narcissists.

He ran his right hand up my thigh, pushing my dress up. All I had underneath was a thong, a flimsy shield for a sex machine like Heath Hillabrand. He grabbed my ass firmly, pressing me up against him and when I felt his huge hardness through his jeans, the reality of the situation began to sink in, but not nearly as much as when his fingers slid into me.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.
This is the point of no return, get your shit together. You cannot be this fucking weak, Sadie.

"Okay, we have to stop," I said, pushing him away from me, as a I panted for air. My skin was prickly all-over with sex tingles and my body so wanted to keep on, but that sliver of sober brain I had left would not let me move forward.

"You're killing me..." Heath said, stepping back. I don't think anyone had ever stopped him before.

"I am not one of these skanks you bed. You don't go around kissing that Illy bitch, wink to her and tell her you'll see her later, and then kiss me. That's not how I operate. This milk does not come for free!"

Heath laughed his careless laugh. "Who wants milk? What do you want from me?"

"I just want us to be normal. Obviously I am attracted to you, but I see how you are and I do not get with guys like you."

"Except in the garden, and just now."

"What do you want from me? Why are you so persistent?"

"I don't know, but I feel like I have to have you. It's hard work so I really wish I didn't. You're exhausting."

"Well it's not going to happen. I know all you are looking for is some tail. What baffles me more than anything is you seem legitimately surprised. How could I think you are more than just a man-whore after my first night here, when you brought those two girls back?"

He sighed, recalling that night. "I thought you were asleep"

"How could I have slept though all of that commotion? That's besides the point. Since I have arrived, you have treated me in a way that is not acceptable in an employee-employer relationship."

"Likewise. You didn't seem repulsed a minute ago."

"Maybe this arrangement is not going to work out. I should have found a way to make it to Houston."

"Are you quitting?"

"I don't know."

"God you are indecisive," he said, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and placing it in his mouth, unlit.

I didn't know what to do at that moment. I was worried about Brock, and I felt guilty, like he needed me. However, the truth was, I was Brock's chef. Not his physical therapist. He had family to fall back onto and doctors to attend to him; why would he need me, too? This Heath situation was more confusing than I had anticipated. He was crude, horny, inappropriate, vile, loose, and yet, I knew it was there: the basest, purest attraction. It was bad news. If I stayed longer, well then I was going to become a sucker. The best cure is prevention, and I knew waking up in his bed was inevitable--it was only a matter of time.

"Heath, I really appreciate this opportunity. You have been generous, but I think we have crossed some lines here that cannot be erased. I understand I am part of that. So, I think it's best that after this party I wrap everything up and resign from this position."

Heath shook his head in disappointment. "If that's how you wanna do it, then so be it. You're not cut out for this life anyway." His little dig, his little comment about me not being cut out for "this life," was another way of him telling me that I was uptight. I really hated when people called me uptight. Just because I do what is right does not make me uptight. "Well, I'll let you
wrap up
then." He threw little air quotes around "wrap up," in a mockery of my voice and walked away, lighting a cigarette.

What a jerk.