ROMANCE: SPORTS ROMANCE: Bad Boys of Sports: A Complete Collection (Alpha Male, Football, Hockey Secret Baby Romance) (Contemporary Sports Romance) (17 page)

For the rest of the night, Fifi talked their ears off with Madeline interjecting playfully. Natalie added a comment here and there, but she was simmering beneath the soft glow of the string lights. Oliver maintained a permanent smirk. He seemed to take special joy in staring at her intensely, fraying her nerves underneath her chic outfit.

But, feral photographers couldn’t keep her from enjoying Fifi’s grand stories and generous bar tab. She and Madeline cracked up at Fifi’s storytelling, complete with full-on impersonations down to fake accents. As the night faded on, Carl and Oliver seemed to fade away.

Natalie would have to fade too. She checked her watch with a guilty glance. A steady stream of people still swayed around them, but she had to get some rest before heading back to LA. Madeline spotted the gesture.

“You have to go?” She asked with a crestfallen look. Fifi held one hand tightly against her chest. Looking at them, Natalie was sure she was staring at two thespians trying their trade at a rooftop soirée.

“Yes,” she said with a sad twinge. “I wish I could stay longer, but my flight leaves early.”

They had exchanged numbers and goodbyes before Madeline asked if she wanted Natalie to walk with her downstairs to grab a cab. Natalie shook her head. She could tell that Madeline was enjoying herself and didn’t want to tear her away from her old boss.

Natalie slipped out of the back. She nearly ran into a couple making out on the staircase and darted down to the lobby. Her heels clicked against the sidewalk. As her arm went out to hail a taxi, another arm joined her. She glanced up to see Oliver’s handsome jawline right beside her. Her body shrunk away from him. His eyes darted to her as if he’d just seen her standing there.

“Pardon me, Ms. Blogger; I didn’t see you.”

“Not surprising in the least,” she said, alcohol spurring her replies. “But you should be careful.  Failing vision can’t be good for a photographer’s career.”

His smirk turned into a scowl. From down the street, a pair of headlights swung towards them. She spotted a yellow taxi rolling towards them. Finally, time to go home.

“Lack of manners can’t be good for…” His dry answer cut off as he cast her a withering look. “Oh, sorry, what is it that you do exactly?  Just sit around and post stuff on the internet, right?  On second thought, that doesn’t require any manners at all since you don’t interact with anyone.  And that actually explains everything.”

She felt her fingernails push into the skin of her palm. Don’t punch him. That wouldn’t be good for Fifi to come out to see him knocked out cold on the sidewalk. The visual did wonders for Natalie though. She smiled, tiny and wicked. His eyes burned into hers.

“In fact, I spend all the my time ignoring assholes.”

The cab pulled up to the curb. He grabbed the door and slid himself inside before she had a chance to move. His gaze dragged up from her shoes to her face with a sneer.

“Sorry, I’d let you ride along, love,” he said with a feigned apologetic tone. “But we professionals have very packed schedules, I’m afraid, and I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

The door slammed, and the cab was off.

She stood staring at its taillights until it disappeared around the corner. Hands balled into fists, she took a deep breath and then five more.

There will be more taxis.

She hoped there would never be another meeting with Oliver Bacall.

~

One month later, Natalie had forgotten all about rude photographers in Manhattan, and the sound of taxi doors slamming. She was stationed at her favorite local coffee shop in LA, hunched over her laptop and notebook with fevered hands. She needed to keep her deadline of her weekly blog posts by tomorrow morning, and she frantically flipped through all the photos she took on her little point-and-shoot camera. Her outfit-of-the-day photos and the pictures of the event décor and fancy hors d'oeuvres.  None of them looked professional enough after her time spent in New York, and she sighed in frustration.  She’d been feverishly trying to catch up with work ever since the party in New York. An influx of new freelance requests had hit her, all from New York publications.

Her mind wandered to Madeline and Fifi. Surely, they had something to do with it. She’d been texting Madeline since they’d parted ways. When she mentioned all of her new jobs from New York, Madeline sent back a winky smiley face with no other explanation.

Not that Natalie was complaining. Her eyes darted to the time displayed on her computer.
Shit
. Okay, okay, maybe she was complaining a bit. She dialed up the volume of her music and began to type faster as pop pumped through her headphones. Catchy beats made writing easier. Her hands flew across the keyboards.

This piece needed to be done by tonight.  She jumped up to grab an espresso and went to work. An hour passed before she finally stretched with a pleased face. Outside, the light was beginning to go.

“Not bad for a blogger,” she muttered to herself as she crossed off one of the bulleted items in her notebook. A sour feeling washed over her. She scowled, staring at the last remnants of the dark liquid in the petite cup before her. She couldn’t deny that the bastard had come to mind –
again
.  He’d tainted her every thought about her chosen profession – from her photos to her lack of industry connections.  But she was determined not to let him get to her.

Her counselor, a woman she saw once a month to maintain basic sanity with her schedule, assured her that Oliver’s insecurity over himself is why he lashed out. Natalie frowned. It seemed logical, but the smirk that he’d worn with her didn’t scream out any insecurity. If anything, his confidence was what justified his insults. She groaned underneath her breath and scooped up all her things, placing them in her leather tote bag.

Her apartment was just a few blocks away, so she didn’t mind donning a pair of stylish blue stilettos for the short walk, which she wore with a classic white dress.  A group of tourists admired her shoes as she hurried past them. She walked fast enough to leave behind thoughts of that infuriating man far behind her. Her keys jingled as she opened the door and walked inside. Minimalist with a punch of vintage. She took a deep breath and flopped onto her couch, a mod number rescued from someone’s curb.

“One more article,” she chanted over and over. One more article and then she could figure out what to do with all of her feelings after. Maybe a nice hot bath. Her muscles ached from straining over the wooden table at the cafe. She peered at her bathroom with a furrowed brow. Bath now or bath later.

As she stood to stride over to the pastel pink bathroom, her phone erupted. She plucked it from her bag and frowned at an unknown number displayed. The area code told her it was New York. Perhaps one of her new clients couldn’t wait. Her heart jumped. Or they were calling to extend the deadline on the last peace!

“Hello, this is Natalie.”

An excited voice squawked on the other line.

“Natalie! You’re going to New York Fashion Week!”

It was the first time she squealed into the phone like a happy little piglet.

Chapter 2

Arriving in New York was always an adventure, one that Natalie never felt truly prepared for. It was already late in the evening as she stumbled into the lobby of the building they’d given her, and the security guard looked up her information. The building was small but unique in its vintage decor. The entire penthouse had been arranged for lodging and a long night’s sleep sounded heavenly to her.

“Oh yes, you’re here to stay at the penthouse rental, and it looks like you’re the last of your group to arrive.  Here is your set of keys.  Do you need help with your bags, Miss Rushing?”

“No, that’s all right, I can handle a few bags.”

“Okay,” he pressed the button in the elevator for her labeled
PH
and waved her goodbye.  “Let me know if you need anything.”

With a sigh of relief, she let her suitcase collapse on the floor as soon as she entered the doors.  Her mouth dropped open as she gaped in awe at the gorgeous penthouse loft.  The living room had floor-to-ceiling, 360-degree views of the city.  A giant crystal chandelier cascaded down above the dining table, which was next to a modern chef’s kitchen.  The clear-panel staircase wound up to several doors upstairs.

“You finally made it!” A familiar voice called out to her, and Natalie looked to see who was coming towards her.

“Madeline!” She hugged her new friend and beamed.  “Are you staying here too?” 

“Yes!  I’m back working for Fifi again, and I’m here to make sure all the bloggers that we’re featuring in the article are comfortable and stick to the week’s schedule.  It’s going to be one heck of a week.”

“How many of us are there exactly?”

“Just four.  You’re the last one to arrive.”

“So I’ve been told.”  Natalie looked around at the massive apartment.  “Do each of us get our own room?”

“Actually…” Madeline’s voice trailed apologetically.  “We all have to share rooms; there are only three in total.  But don’t worry, the rooms are pretty large by Manhattan standards.  And each one has it’s own master bathroom with a jet tub and everything.”

“That sounds amazing.  And I’m totally fine with sharing a room.  It’ll be a great way to get to know the other bloggers.”

    “Well, the thing is, the other bloggers have already arrived and have claimed their rooms.  There’s only one left, and you’ll be sharing it with Oliver.  You remember him, don’t you?  The photographer, Oliver Bacall?”

Natalie’s mouth dropped open again.

    “I know, I thought you might like that.”  She wiggled her eyebrows.  “I’m a little jealous, to be honest. But one of the bloggers, Sasha, is a close friend of mine, and she insisted that I share a room with her.  Who knows, maybe you might ‘accidentally’ run into each other naked in the shower.  I bet he has a six pack.”

“But…” Natalie said as she tried to shake off the numbing effect of momentary shock.  “Why is he staying here with us?” 

“Actually, he’s no longer a New York resident, and he’s here to shoot the photos for the blogosphere feature in
Alone
.  Fifi thought it would be a great way for him to capture some candid moments of you guys.”

“Candid moments…”

“Anyway, you must be pretty tired from your flight.  I’ll let you get settled into your room over there.” She pointed to one of the doors upstairs.  “Why don’t we meet back down here in an hour so I can introduce you to the others over a some drinks?”

Natalie walked into her room and saw two glamorous queen beds set right next to each other.  On the other side of the room, she spotted two half-unpacked suitcases. A few black camera bags were piled in the corner near the window.

Okay, Natalie, get a grip.  It’ won’t be that bad
.  She sighed in resignation and heaved her stuff on the unclaimed bed, and began unpacking.  The room was definitely large enough to accommodate two people. She didn’t know she’d be sharing rooms, and she had only packed skimpy pajamas since she always got hot at night. She held up one of her lacey silk camisoles and rolled her eyes at herself.  Couldn’t she have thought to bring at least one regular t-shirt?

There was a clatter in the attached bathroom. She heard a light humming on the other side of the door. She rummaged through her belongings with renewed vigor, trying to hide her anxiety, as the doorknob clicked and turned.

Oliver walked through on the other side as she was pulling out her makeup bag. She turned towards her new roommate with a cheerful smile.

“Hey there.” Her bright greeting turned hollow at the end as his face came into view.

“Well, hello, Ms. Blogger.”  Oliver Bacall leaned against the doorframe with that infuriating smug grin of his.

~

Natalie was the first one to arrive at the living room, waiting for the others to join her.  Shortly after her she’d announced herself as Oliver’s roommate, she had decided that she felt more comfortable hanging out downstairs on the lounge sofa.  She sipped her glass of wine and wondered how she was going to play nice with this guy.

I can’t let him get to me. 

“Looks like she’s started without us,” came a friendly voice.  Natalie’s eyes snapped up and saw a young man and woman seating themselves on the lounge sofa. 

“Hi, I’m Taylor,” said the young man said holding out his hand.  “And this is Penelope, but she goes by Penny.”

Natalie shook both their hands, relieved not to be alone.  “Hi, I’m Natalie Rushing.”

“Yeah, Natalie from the
Rushing for Fashion
blog, right?  I’ve been following you from the start,” said Penny.  “Yours is my favorite up-and-coming west coast style blog.” 

Natalie thought for a moment.  “Oh, and you must be Penny from
Penny’s Closet
, and Taylor from
Taylor Made
.  I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you two immediately.  I feel like such a dunce!”

“Well I changed my hair color just yesterday to this lavender shade, so it’s not surprising.”

“I think it makes you look like a hot pixie,” Taylor said.

“Aw, that’s so sweet babe,” Penny said as she gave him a peck on his lips.

“Wait, are the two of you dating?”  Natalie asked.  This was pretty juicy news in her estimation.

“Shh, don’t announce it before we do,” Penny said with a wink as she took Taylor’s hand in hers.

“Sorry we’re late!” Madeline called from the other side of the room, with the fourth blogger.  “I meant to do the introductions, but I see you guys have already met.  And this is Sasha from Chic Sasha.”

“Hi guys, it’s nice to meet you,” said the tall and wiry-framed girl next to Madeline.

The doorbell ring chimed in lovely musical notes.

“Oh, there’s the cocktail delivery I ordered,” Madeline said as she headed to answer the door.  “This company delivers the most delicious cocktails in the city!”

~

After everyone had several rounds of exquisite bespoke cocktails, the group decided to finally call it a night.  Everyone that is, except for Oliver Bacall, who was noticeably absent from the kickoff evening.  Natalie dreaded going back to the bedroom, but she drew a deep breath and marched herself right in.  She was dismayed to find that he was very much still awake and reading a book, and her resolve to be civil went right out the window.  How very typical of him to be too high and mighty to join the group of bloggers, she thought.  She stared at him angrily with his nose in his book, not bothering to look up to acknowledge her.

“No way,” she insisted, head shaking violently as she crossed her arms. “I’m not doing this. I’m moving out.”

He asked and cast her an annoyed look. “Tough luck. You’ve signed a contract.”

Her stomach twisted. “They can’t be mad if I say I don’t want to room with a man.”

“Yes, tell the employers who offered you a free stay and the only invite to this event that you’ll ever receive in your life that you’re throwing a temper tantrum.” His harsh tone stung. “Let me know how that goes.”

Tears stung her eyes. “Why do you have to be such an asshole?”

He turned to her, swinging his legs off the bed with a glare. “Yes,
I'm
the asshole, not the nobody who’s mad that she has to share a room.” His sarcasm dripped all over the shared carpet.

“It’s you that I’m mad about,” she fired back and snapped her lips shut. He raised his eyebrows and studied her from across the room.

“If you’d like to join the list of people who don’t like me, I’m afraid you’ll find it’s already quite long,” he said with a casual shrug of his broad shoulders. His sharp collarbone teased from beneath his V-neck shirt, which hugged his torso firmly. She tried to focus on her anger as his muscles shifted beneath the fabric. “And I don’t recall requesting you either. That’s life; deal with it, woman.”

The way he called her woman sent a bristle of agitation up her spine. She reared back with a scowl. How was it that this crude man had become so successful? Her mind turned this question over as her hands hovered above the suitcase. He gave an exasperated sigh.

“Very well, I guess you’ve decided to stay.”

She shot him a withering look. “You’re the one who said I need to get over it.”

“It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind having this room to myself,” he sniffed. Her scowl deepened, but she turned her back from him.

With a sunken gut, her hands passed over the pile of lace sleepwear that she’d brought. Two silk camisoles, one nearly transparent, and two pairs of matching shorts. Damn. She’d never thought that she’d be stuck in the same room with a male stranger, much less, this one.

She piled the sleepwear underneath a pair of slacks as she brought them out. Her hands divided clothes into piles as she moved them to the dresser. Engaging in basic activities made it easier to forget about the raging ego that sat behind her, still perched on the end of his bed with a frown.

“Do you snore?” He asked loudly.

She rolled her eyes. “No.”

“Are you lying?”

She turned to stare at him while she batted her eyelashes innocently. “Who, me? Never, Mr. Professional.”

The nickname, one she’d taken to referring to him as in her mind, was based off the one he gave her. It seemed fitting. He muttered something dark under his breath. She ignored it and checked for anything left behind in her suitcase.

“Sleepwalk?”

“No.”

“Steal?” He turned to sweep his gaze over his camera bags in the corner. She let out a bark of laughter at his insulting opinion of her.

“Of course not.”

“Alright, Ms. Blogger. I guess we’re stuck with each other,” he said as he got up to disappear in the restroom.

“Like hell we are.”  Natalie took the opportunity to take a crisp white shirt from the smug bastard’s suitcase and pulled it over her head.  She grabbed the blanket from her bed and left to sleep in the living room.

~

The next day was packed with two fashion shows, a shopping trip to Fifth Avenue with the group, and an after-party in the evening.  Natalie reflected back on the day’s exciting events with satisfaction.  She was exactly where she wanted to be in her life, and it was all thanks to the decision she made three years ago to start her blog.  This trip had so far been a dream come true.

Except, of course, for the Oliver factor.  There was a moment on the red carpet of the first fashion show they attended when a gang of paparazzi was photographing her.  Oliver snidely commented that “the audience were consuming all kinds of trash these days,” in reaction to the paparazzo attention she was getting.

She rolled her eyes at the memory as goosebumps covered her skin, but her body was grateful for the rush of air. She leaned against the windowsill and let out a small dreamy sigh at the sight. New York City was lit up. The nighttime scenery was gorgeous. Fresh air greeted her as she pushed the window upwards a few inches. She rested her forehead against the cold glass with a soft hum.

Her eyes wandered to the skyscrapers reflecting a hazy moon. She stood on her tippy toes, as if to lean closer to the moon, but kept her hands to herself.

An LA girl in New York City
. Slowly, the feeling of being an alien was beginning to fade as she interacted with more and more people. She only hoped that her tiffs with Oliver didn’t worsen.

Her eyelids drooped as she straightened away from the support of the window. She heard a distinct rustle. Her stomach churned.

“My, my,” he began in a smooth voice. “I was starting to think you might not be such a ditz after all, but it looks like I’d judged too soon.  I didn’t realize you were a liar as well as a thief?  I’m sure I shouldn’t be surprised at all.”

Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire as she turned with a squeak to face Oliver staring at her with annoyance written across his brows.

“I was wondering where my white shirt went, and it looks like I’ve found it.  I thought you said you don’t steal.”