Hotshot (6 page)

“I know you’re a grown woman, Bizzy. It’s hard to miss. As much as I’d like to agree that I wanted you near me for protective reasons, I’d be lying. It’s purely selfish.” His usually deep voice is low and gravelly.

The air around us buzzes when I realize I’m not imagining this. “What do you mean?”

“I wanted you here, with me, because I like having you close. If I could, I’d blow off all my obligations this weekend. You’d never leave my sight.”

I give a silent prayer for my legs to hold me up. My eyes lock with his, and my stomach drops. He’s staring at me so lovingly that every inch of my skin starts to tingle.

“What are you saying?” I whisper so low I’m not sure he heard me.

He remains quiet a few seconds and uses his hand framing my face to pull me to him, kissing the tip of my nose. “Give me this weekend, my beautiful Bizzy, and you’ll know exactly what I’m saying.”

The scent of his cologne mixed with the heat of his breath so close to my mouth sets my heart racing faster. It’s too much, having him so close, touching me so gently. I close my eyes and move my forehead to lay on his cheek.

We stay like this for a few minutes as I force myself to calm down.

“Are you ready for dinner?” He breaks the spell between us.

“Do we have to move?” It slips from my mouth before I can stop it.

“Not if you don’t want. I’m perfectly happy right here.”

I force myself to step back and look at him again. There’s a touch of humor dancing in his eyes as his lip twitches. It takes every ounce of willpower I have to move further back and tug on his hand.

“I’ll let you feed me.”

His eyes break away, and he runs them down my body before sighing. “Room service sounds a lot better right now.”

A smile spreads across my face, and I lead him through the suite, grabbing my purse on the way out. “After dinner, we’re dancing.”

“Bizzy, you know I don’t dance.”

“Well, you can watch. Maybe someone will take pity and dance with me.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” he growls and yanks my back to his front. Another couple walks down the hallway and stops next to us, waiting for the elevator.

He holds me close, almost possessively, and when the elevator opens, he ushers us in together.

I meet the other woman’s eyes briefly and see her smirking. Then I drop my head to hide my own grin. The whole ride, Shaw never lets me go.

“That was so much fun!” I giggle, kicking off my sandals as we enter the suite. “You, my dear, are an awesome dancer.”

“I had a great partner.” Shaw follows behind and sits next to me when I collapse on the sofa.

“Why haven’t we danced more often?” I slur my words, cuddling into him.

“I’ve tried to tell you, I don’t dance.”

“It must have been the wine. The wine made you dance. We have to get more wine.”

“Babe, I didn’t drink wine.”

My head shoots up and I groan. “Oh shit, did I drink that whole bottle myself?”

“Every drop.”

“I’m going to feel terrible tomorrow. That was stupid, considering I haven’t slept.”

“Why haven’t you slept?”

“I thought about going to bed this morning when I got home, but I was too excited. So basically, I’ll be a zombie tomorrow.”

“Good thing you can sleep all day if you want.”

“I’ll sleep on the beach.”

“Do you want me to help you get to bed?”

“Not yet, this is comfortable. I want to talk.”

“What do you want to talk about? You’re blitzed and running on no sleep.”

“I want to talk about you. We never talk about you.”

“We talk about me all the time.”

“We talk about the boys, and we talk about your work. We never really talk about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why aren’t you dating anyone, Shaw? You’re a catch.”

He chuckles, his chest vibrating under my cheek, as he runs his hands through my hair. “Catch, huh? Not sure I agree.”

I lift up, bracing on his chest. His face is relaxed and soft, and I love it. “You are to me. You’re perfect.” The alcohol is obviously guiding my words.

“Oh, sweet Bizzy, I’m far from perfect. I’m an asshole in my business, never letting anyone get the upper hand. I run my clients like a fucking drill sergeant, not putting up with any shit. When it comes to my personal life, I spend most of my time with family. There’s no time for much else, especially the drama that comes with relationships in my line of work. I’ve stayed single on purpose.”

His words sting, and I flinch, backing away. Even in my inebriated haze, his meaning is clear. There’s no time for a relationship. He senses my unease and curls his hand around my neck, squeezing lightly. I drop my eyes to stare at the floor and swallow back the lump in my throat.

Getting emotional is one thing, but getting emotional while drunk is dangerous. I risk blurting out everything.

“What’s going through your mind?”

“Nothing,” I lie.

“Look at me.”

I shake my head and take a deep breath, trying to regain some sense. I need to redirect the conversation then escape to bed.

“Lizbeth, look at me.”

I raise my face to his, and wish like hell I’d have kept my mouth shut. His eyes have now transformed to a deep shade of green that makes me want to confess everything I feel for him.

“What happened? What did I say wrong?”

Luckily, my brain catches up before I profess my decade long infatuation. “Nothing at all, I just want the best for you. You deserve to be happy. It sounds like you don’t have room for romantic relationships, and I hate that for you.”

“Who says I don’t have time for romance?”

“You did.”

“No, I said I didn’t have time for bullshit. Up until recently, I never saw myself being a relationship guy. Seemed like a waste of time, only to learn someone was after my money or my family name. Now, I’m seeing things differently.”

“Really? What happened?”

He runs the tip of his tongue along his lower lip and gently grips my hips. Before I can comprehend what’s happening, he’s lifted me onto his lap and has both my hands in his. He moves our joined hands to rest on his stomach. The muscles contract under the touch.

“You happened.”

I freeze, my heart stopping. “W-w-what?”

“You happened. So pure, so sweet, so goddamn beautiful my heart hurts when I see you. That day in my office, your lips on mine, you crying in my arms, your incredible sadness over a young boy who will lose his life… It hit me hard. So fucking hard. I knew it then.”

“Oh my God.”

“Bizzy, I need you to look at me.”

I raise my eyes to his and feel the heat searing me again. “I didn’t plan to do this tonight. You’ve had a lot to drink, but you’ve left me no choice. I’ve been holding this in for weeks. This is my weekend to prove it to you. It’s you that’s changed my mind. Everything is about you. If you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. No pressure.”

“I’m not exactly sure what you’re saying. Feel the same about what?”

He stays quiet for too long, then he stands easily, moving his hands to my waist and holding me against him. “Go get changed. You need to sleep.”

“No,” I protest. “Now, I can’t sleep.”

He walks us to my room and sets me inside the door. “Get changed and meet me back on the sofa. We’ll watch some TV. We’ve done enough talking for tonight.”

He turns to walk away, and I watch him disappear into his own room and shut the door. It takes a full minute for me to move, and even then, I trip over my feet getting to my suitcase.

Once I’ve changed into my pajamas and brushed my teeth, I give myself a pep talk and realize this is not a hallucination. The details are fuzzy, but Crenshaw Bennett is waiting for me in the other room. My mind is swimming with questions, but I won’t ask anything else until I have my full wits about me and can process everything clearly. Even if it’s for one night, I’m going to enjoy it.

I walk into the living area and find him sprawled out on the couch with the controller in one hand, watching the TV. I stop dead at the sight of him in cotton pants and nothing else. The muscles hidden earlier under his shirt are now on display, and I want to weep in appreciation. He’s always been handsome, but right now, I take a second to memorize this image.

“Bizzy, come here.”

I walk over slowly, unsure where to sit. When I get close enough, he hitches an arm behind my knees and pulls me down, forcing me to lie on top of him.

“Get comfortable.”

I do as he says and lay my head on his bare chest. My eyelids grow heavy immediately and I snuggle close. “Please don’t let this be a dream,” I whisper to myself.

He tightens his grip and kisses my forehead gently.

“I think you are my dream,” is the last thing I hear before falling asleep.

Shaw

I glance at my watch for the fifth time in an hour and make a decision. This meeting needs to end. The long-winded lawyer at the end of the table finally closes his presentation, and I stand, surprising those around me.

“Gentlemen, thank you for your time. I appreciate the diligence you put into this presentation. It seems we are all on the same page when it comes to expectations and long-term goals. Unfortunately, I have to head out.”

There’s a rumble around the table, and Perry shoots me an evil glare. “What the hell, Bennett? You’re leaving now?”

“Yep.” I pack up my laptop.

“Your office assured me this was legit. How the fuck can I make a decision about my representation based on two hours? This is your audition. You know how many other agents want my business?”

I stop myself from laughing and take a deep breath. Then I do what I do best. Straightening my shoulders, I pin the pompous prick with my eyes, and stare long and hard until he squirms in his seat.

The room is silent, watching me and waiting. This guy may be used to getting everything he wants, but if he’s represented by me and my agency, that shit stops immediately. I call the shots—always.

“Perry, I guess you didn’t get the memo. I’m fielding you. This was a technicality to see where your bosses stand and if you can handle being on the team I represent. I got what I wanted, and I’ll be in touch.”

“Bullshit! I make the decisions here. I’m the best Forward in the NHL! I don’t audition for anyone.”

His arrogant attitude reminds me of so many others I’ve smacked down, including my own brother.

“Perry, I can recite your statistics by memory, including the fights, penalties, and suspensions. The reason I’m here is because you are firing your current agent when the contract is up. You want the best. I am the best, but I don’t put up with bullshit, ever. I’m a lawyer and an agent, so you get the best of both worlds. I also put it into my contract that if you piss me off, you act out, or you ruin your reputation due to certain things, I’m out.

“I’m not your fucking babysitter, but damn close. You learn to mold to my demands, not yours. You want to fuck around with days’ worth of people kissing your ass? Good luck, but I saw what I needed to see. Your team is focused, driven, and has the staff in place to achieve that with the right talent.”

“You’re a stupid shit if you think I’ll listen to any lawyer. I pay your salary.”

At his statement, I’m done. I shake a few hands and make my way to the door. Only then do I look at the man in the center of the table who is flaming red.

“Perry, I pay my own salary because I’m fucking good at what I do. Think about it long and hard because this is your only chance. Talk to your coaches, talk to your teammates, and talk to your fucking team lawyers. I’ll assume you aren’t joining us for the dinner tomorrow night, but if you change your mind, call my assistant, Gail.” I walk out, and hear the son of a bitch cussing as the door shuts.

When I get into the elevator, I send a message to Gail, filling her in and asking that she amend the contract we drafted for Perry. I want an additional ten percent, on top of my standard percentage, if we sign him. Then I ask her to confirm our dinner reservations.

I wave down a cab and ask the driver to take me back to the hotel.

My phone rings with Nick’s ringtone, and I answer with a laugh. “Shouldn’t you be watching films or working out? Sunday’s game may be preseason, but it’s still against the reigning Super Bowl champs.”