Tempting the Player (16 page)

He tucked back a wild curl. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Only if you are,” she said. Even though her heels were killing her, she didn’t want to rush him off. And besides, when every evening ended, it brought them one more night—

She cut herself off.

“I am.” He took the glass from her. “Let’s see if we can make a clean escape.”

She let him take her hand, and keeping to the edges of the ballroom, they made it all the way outside before anyone noticed them. A light snow had begun to fall as they hurried past the waiting photographers.

Chad buckled her in again, which caused a flurry of cameras to go off. She shot him a dirty look, which he returned with a smug, knowing grin.

Once inside the Jeep, he turned to her. “So how do you think tonight went?”

Assuming he meant his contract, she smiled as she slipped the shawl off and folded it in her lap. “I think you’re not going to have any problems. Everyone seems impressed with the new, more behaved Chad.”

He chuckled. “I wasn’t talking about that. I meant in general.”

“Oh.” Her smile spread. “It was so much fun. People were really nice.”

“Were you expecting them not to be?”

She considered that. “I guess so.” Then she laughed. “Vanessa invited me out to brunch.”

His answering grin warmed her. “You should go.”
“Not…” She trailed off.

“Hmm?”

She shrugged. It seemed obvious to her, but maybe Chad wasn’t even thinking about it in the way she was. And she needed to stop thinking about it completely.

Glancing at him, she was struck again by his masculine beauty. Even while he was driving, the look of concentration that pulled down his brows and narrowed his eyes stirred heat within her.

She thought about what he’d done to her—for her—in the dressing room.

Her pulse picked up.

Maybe it was the memories of his wonderful fingers and the pleasure he had given her. Maybe it was the champagne she’d drunk and the great evening she had with him. Maybe it was because Chad was hot, and she wanted to do for him what he had done for her.

Who knew what gave her the idea, but Bridget was going to go with number three and not look back. She’d decided some time tonight that she wanted as many memories as she could gather before their time together ended. She’d need them for the cold winter nights alone in her near future.

So before she lost her nerve, she reached over while they waited at a red stoplight, placing her hand on his upper thigh. Chad’s head whipped in her direction. One single brow went up. She gave him what she hoped was a sexy smile.

His eyes locked with hers, and Bridget took a deep breath. Blood pounding, she slid her hand up his leg and cupped him through his trousers.

Chad’s hips buckled, and he groaned. “What…what are you doing, Bridget?”

She bit down on her lip as she ran her thumb up his length. The man was already hard as a rock. “Just repaying you.”

“Repaying me?” he said hoarsely.

Leaning over farther, she got her other hand involved in the fun and pulled the zipper down. The button was next and—holy momma—Chad was commando and all but straining toward her. Bridget’s gaze drifted up. “The light’s green, Chad.”

“Yeah, green means go.” He hit the gas, but he was barely doing the speed limit.

She eased him out of his pants, sliding her hand up and down his hard length. Moisture built at the tip, increasing each time she smoothed her thumb over its head. It wasn’t long before his hips were moving up into her touch, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.

And she wasn’t done with him.

When they hit another red light, she unhooked her seat belt. Chad’s eyes widened with realization. She gave him a little smile and then bent over, taking him into her mouth.

“Oh hell,” Chad ground out.

His hips pumped up, and she loved that—loved the salty, masculine taste of him. Wrapping her hand around his base, she slid it up while her mouth went down, taking him as far as she could.

“Bridget, you…” Chad groaned. “This was probably the worst and…” He sucked in a breath. “The best idea you’ve had.”

She moaned around him, and he made a low sound deep in his throat. His hand landed on her head, wrapping his fingers through her hair. It wasn’t long before he was guiding her speed. When she flicked her tongue over his head again and his body jerked, she had no idea how he didn’t wreck.

A shudder ran up his body. “Bridget, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna…”

That’s what she wanted. Tightening her hold, she pumped faster as she pulled her lips back, scraping his sensitive head with her teeth.

And that did it.

She felt his release rock through his body. He tried to lift her head, but Bridget wasn’t having it. She was in this to the finish, and boy did she finish him. When she finally lifted her head, she saw that they were going about ten miles an hour and Chad looked like he just rolled out of bed.

His eyes slid to hers.

Bridget licked her lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned out.

Smiling, she tucked his semi-hard sex back into his pants, zipped, and buttoned him up. “Do I need to drive?”

“No. No. I got this.” He put both hands on the steering wheel and nodded. “Yeah, I got this.”

Feeling warm and pleased with herself, Bridget redid her seat belt and settled back.

Several moments passed before Chad seemed able to speak again. “Wow. That was— There are no words.” A lopsided grin appeared on his lips. “It’s a damn good thing no photo-hags got a picture of that, though.”

In that moment, Bridget forgot everything. Turning to him, she laughed out loud. “Yeah, I doubt Miss Gore would be pleased with
those
pictures.”

The day before Christmas Eve was a lazy day at work. Employees always cut out around three or earlier. Nothing got done, but that was okay, because Bridget and Madison were ready for the Gala and that was all that mattered.

So Bridget played Solitaire on her computer and tended her crops on Farmville until she found herself staring at her computer, thinking about Chad.

Goodness, he’d looked amazing at the event—the whole night had been amazing. A stupid, silly grin appeared on her face.

The Christmas dinner for the Nationals had been perfect and Chad…. She wanted to pat herself on the back for what went down in his Jeep. She had been pretty damn perfect herself.

Though, it probably wasn’t smart to do anything like that again. Even she’d said they shouldn’t complicate things, but she figured she owed him. When he’d dropped her off at her apartment, she’d made a hasty exit, knowing that if she stayed a moment longer, the night would’ve ended in sex.

Her phone rang, startling her enough that she jerked back from the computer. “Office of Madison Daniels, how can I help you?”

“Miss Rodgers, can you see Director Bernstein please?”

Bridget felt like a tool, since she should’ve known it was an internal call. “Yes. I’ll be right there.”
Assuming he wanted something to do with the Gala, she shut down her web and went ahead and powered off the computer. The desks outside of Madison’s office were empty. Robert was nowhere to be seen.

Swinging a left, she squeezed past a Christmas tree and entered Director Bernstein’s office. His secretary glanced up with smile. “Go ahead in,” she said.

Bridget pushed open the door and realized the director wasn’t alone. Madison was with him, and she looked pissed. Her stomach sunk as she sat next to her boss. “What’s going on?”

Director Bernstein smiled, but it looked pained, as if he were about to say something he really didn’t want to. “I know you’ve worked very hard and closely with Miss Daniels on the Winter Fund-raiser Gala, and there really is no amount of gratitude that I can express. Both of you have done a superb job.”

Bridget glanced over at Madison, having a feeling that whatever this conversation was truly about had nothing to do with his gratitude.

“The Gala is so important to the institute and for the volunteer process,” the director continued. “Each year, we see an increase in attendees and donations and those donations are what keep departments like the one Miss Daniels oversees running. We cannot afford to lose any donors who wish to have a nice evening at the Gala without the intrusion of press.”

Ice drenched Bridget’s veins as she stared at her boss’s boss. She forced herself to take a nice, slow breath. This had to do with Chad. Of course, everything had to do with Chad now, her
fake
boyfriend.

Whatever warm and fuzzy thoughts she had about him minutes before vanished like the doughnuts Madison had brought in this morning.

“Keeping that in mind, I’m going to have to ask that you not attend the Gala, Miss Rodgers.” That damn smile of his wavered. “Anything that involves Chad Gamble turns into a media circus, and many of our attendees do not want to be a part of an environment like that.”

Madison cleared her throat and said, “Just so you know, I do not agree with this at all.”

Funny how Bridget’s cheeks were burning when she felt so cold inside, but she’d be damned if this crap with Chad ruined something she’d been working on all year. Although, he’d seemed to be looking forward to attending the Gala with her, she knew he wouldn’t be too upset about being cut out of it. “He doesn’t have to attend,” she said. “I can do this without him.”

Director Bernstein leaned forward, folding his hands on wood so polished Bridget could see her reflection in it. “I’ve considered that, but with or without Mr. Gamble, the press will follow you. How many days are they waiting outside to get just a photograph of you alone?”

Five, but who was counting? Bridget’s hand curled uselessly in her lap. “I can try to talk to some of them. Ask them to stay away.”

“You and I both know that’s not going to work. They’re like vultures, and if they think there’s a chance they can film you and Mr. Gamble together, then they’ll be camping outside. I cannot have that kind of negative press in attendance. I’m sorry, but it’s in the best interest of the Gala and the Institute.”

Bridget wasn’t sure what she said next, but she was sure she’d nodded, agreed, and then the awkward-as-hell meeting was over. She was in a stupor as she went back to her office and grabbed her purse.

Madison looked as bad as Bridget felt. “I’m so sorry, Bridget. Bernstein is a huge Nationals fan—”

“It’s okay.” It really wasn’t, and the last thing she wanted to hear was how the director fanboyed Chad in private. “Really. I tried talking him out of it, but there’re a lot of conservative stiffs that come to this thing and donate a ton of money.”

Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, she gave her friend a brief hug. “It’s okay. Hey, I’m going to get out of here. Have a good Christmas, okay?”

“Bridge—”

She walked out of the office, blinking back tears, but her head was high.

As she climbed into her car, she sent Chad a quick text, checking to see if he was home. The response was a quick yes and the drive to his posh apartment was a blur. She figured dis-inviting Chad from the Gala was best done in person.

He answered on the first knock and stepped aside, allowing her to come in the foyer. She quickly averted her gaze from him, because really, no man should look as good as he did in a plain shirt and lounge pants.

“I…” She took a deep breath and smelled Chinese food. Her brows pinched as she glanced around. “Why do I smell General Tso’s chicken?”

Chad smiled. “When you said you were swinging by, I took the liberty of ordering a late lunch. It’s your favorite, right?”

Bridget winced at the considerate gesture. She wasn’t hungry, which was testament to how sucky she was feeling right now. “Thank you, but I wasn’t planning to stay very long.”

He’d stopped halfway down the hall and turned to her, his brows furrowing. “That’s— Hey, are you okay?”

She probably should’ve checked her face for smudged mascara. “Yes, I’m okay. I came here to tell you…to ask if you wouldn’t attend the Gala.” Not seeing the need to add the embarrassing part where she also wasn’t attending, she stumbled along awkwardly. Maybe a phone call or text would’ve been better. “I know it’s kind of rude to ask that of you and all, but I’d really appreciate it.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Chad leaned against the wall, folding his arms. “Did something happen with the Gala?”

She shook her head, still way too emotional to go into details, and seriously, it wasn’t like he really cared. Dating was a job to him right now, and she doubted he’d appreciate her going all drama llama on him. No one had agreed to that in the beginning.

“Did someone say something to you?”

Heat crawled up her neck. Goodness, he could be astute at times. “No. It…just is. Anyway, that’s all I came by for, but I really need to get going. Um, thanks for the Chinese. Rain check on that?”

“Wait.” He pushed off the wall, coming at her. “What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” she repeated, searching her memory for plans. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve…?”

A quirky grin appeared. “Yeah, and I always spend it with Maddie’s family, along with my brothers.”

Oh, Madison’s family Christmas celebration. She’d managed to avoid that like the plague the last couple of years.

“You’re going with me, right?” he said after a few moments, clearly choosing to ignore the fact she’d already shot his offer down once before.

Bridget pursed her lips. “Christmas Eve dinners are not my thing.”

“Well, it’s not really traditional. Actually it’s the opposite of traditional. Mostly it’s just drinking and snacking and watching Chase get drunk and make a fool out of himself.”

“As fun as that sounds, I’m going to have to pass.” She started backing toward the door. “But I hope you have a good time.”

“Hold on.” He put his hand on the door, stopping her. “What’s your deal? I’m cool with the Gala thing and I’ll take the rain check on the Chinese, so would it kill you to go to this with me?”

“Yes,” she snapped, reaching for the door handle. “Chad, come on. Open the door.”
“You know, sometimes I think I get you and then I realize I don’t have a freaking clue. You like Maddie and Chase, so it shouldn’t be a big deal.” He removed his hand from the door and thrust it through his hair. “It’s like you don’t want to…I don’t know, open yourself up.”