Tempting the Player (17 page)

“Open myself up?”

Chad frowned. “Yeah.”

Bridget didn’t know what made the words come out of her mouth. The holidays always had her on edge and mix in all of this with Chad and the Gala, her patience and filter were nonexistent. “Why do you want me to go with you, Chad? Why would you want me to open myself up to you? It’s not like we’re really dating, and the last thing we should be doing is spending the holidays together or getting deep and meaningful with each other when it’s going to be all over soon anyway.”

“Whoa. Wow.” Chad reached around her, opening the door so she could dip under his arm. “That’s fine. Wouldn’t want to get all deep and meaningful, Bridget. You’re right. This’ll be over in days. Why bother?”

She blanched. “Exactly.”

“Whatever. Have a nice Christmas, Bridget.” And then he closed the door. He didn’t even slam it, which seemed worse somehow.

Chapter Eighteen

The Daniels’ house looked like Christmas got drunk and threw up on it.

There was a blowup Santa, one of those weird ones that reminded Chad of Bubble Boy, in the front yard. Wire reindeer glimmered in the night, flashing white and then red. On the roof was another Santa, perched near the chimney. There was a blowup sleigh on the other patch of frozen grass. Christmas lights in every color imaginable hung from the roof and circled the porch railing. A backlit Frosty the Snowman was waving at him. Creepy. On the porch was Frank E. Post, which kicked on and started singing “Have a Swinging Christmas” when Chad came within a few feet of it.

“Whoa,” he said, stepping around that thing.

Before he knocked on the door, he shook out his shoulders, trying to lose the pissy attitude he’d been rocking since yesterday courtesy of Bridget. How foolish did he look getting all…considerate and shit by ordering her favorite food and then assuming she’d want to spend Christmas Eve with him?

He should’ve known better. They were faking this whole dating thing. He just hadn’t thought about that when she’d texted him. Little did he know she was coming over to ask him
not
to go to the Gala with her.

Whatever. He wasn’t going to let this crap with Bridget ruin the one night a year he was actually surrounded by family.

His brother answered the door, decked out in a sweater that had Chad laughing so hard he was afraid he was going to drop the gifts he’d brought. Bright green with a knitted jolly Saint Nick, holding a sign that read:
Even Santa is prepared 4 Armageddon. R U? Merry Christmas!

“If you say one word,” Chase said, holding open the door, “I will kick your ass.”

Maddie’s father popped out and gave a huge wave. He wore the same sweater. “Hey there, all-star!”

Chad struggled to get the smile off his face. “I won’t say a word.”

“I bet.” Chase took one of the bags from him and then frowned. “Where’s Bridget?”

He followed his younger brother in. The air smelled of Old Bay seasoning and beer—a Daniels’ Christmas Eve tradition. “She couldn’t make it.”

“Hmm,” Chase replied, putting the bags down by the tree.

Chad turned, hoping to make a hasty escape before his brother could start asking more questions. He was enveloped in a warm hug.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Mrs. Daniels said, squeezing the damn life out of him, but man, he loved those hugs. She pulled back, the skin crinkling around her eyes as she smiled. “Is it possible that you get more handsome every time I see you?”

“Ew, Mom!” Maddie’s voice carried from the kitchen.

“It’s entirely possible, Mrs. Daniels.” Chad winked.

Mr. Daniels swung an arm over his wife’s shoulder. The man was as huge as a bear. His apocalypse-ready Santa was at least three times bigger than Chase’s. “Sorry, Chad, I try to keep her paws off you.”

“Oh, he knows my eyes and hands are for you.” To prove her words, she grabbed Mr. Daniels’ ass.

Mitch poked his head out and curled his lips in horror. “Not something I wanted to see. Ever.”

Mr. Daniels huffed. “Yeah, well, you’ve obviously been grabbing a lot more than your wife’s—”

“Dad,” Mitch groaned. “Really?”

From beside the Christmas tree, Mitch’s wife Lissa grinned and rubbed her swollen belly. “It’s true.”

“My family’s insane.” Mitch disappeared back into the hall.

They were, but Chad loved them—loved the whole warm atmosphere. It was one of the reasons why he and his brothers had been drawn to their family. It was the complete opposite of theirs.

Speaking of family, Chandler came out and shoved a cold one in his hand. He noted that he wasn’t rocking a Daniels’s Christmas sweater. “Where’s your woman?”

Chad sighed, not wanting to think about Bridget. “She’s not here.”

His brother nodded curtly. With his hair pulled back in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck, Chandler looked like the kind of guy people hired security to protect them
from
. “What about the other one?”

“Other one?”

“Yeah—the one with glasses?” he clarified.

Chad’s brows shot up. “Miss Gore—my publicist? Who knows? I’m just hoping it’s far away from me. Wait. You’re not—”

Before he could finish that nightmare of a sentence, Maddie appeared with a platter of cookies, eyes narrowed. “Oh, what the hell? Where is Bridget?”

“She couldn’t make it,” Chase tossed over his shoulder, sending Chad a look as he took the tray from Maddie. “Or that’s what Chad claims.”

Maddie looked like she was about to throw something. “Every year I invite her, and this was the one year I figured she had no way of escaping.”

“Sorry.” Chad shrugged. “I guess she’s scared you guys will lock her in a bomb shelter or something.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not why she won’t come.”

Curiosity was definitely piqued. “You mean she’s not afraid you guys are going to force feed her freeze-dried survival food?”

“Ha. Ha. No.”

“Then why does she bail?” he asked.

Maddie glanced over her shoulder. At that moment, Mr. Daniels had Chase and Chandler cornered, showing them some survival magazine. Maddie winced and grabbed his arm, pulling him into the empty kitchen. On the stove, a huge pot of shrimp steamed.

“Bridget doesn’t like Christmas.”

Chad crossed his arms. “I figured as much.”

“Do you know why? Probably not, because she doesn’t talk about it.”

“Are you going to tell me?” He leaned against the counter.

She sighed. “I’m only telling you this because I love that girl to death, and she had a really crappy day yesterday.”

“Wait. What do you mean?”

Maddie looked dumbfounded. “She didn’t tell you? Of course not.” She shook her head as Chad’s patience stretched. “You know how we’ve been working on the Gala and it’s been our life for almost the last year.”
Chad knew Bridget’s job hung on the line.

“We’re still a lot of money short, which has the director insane about the Gala. He pulled her into a meeting yesterday,” she said. “She’s not allowed to attend the fund-raiser.”

“What?” He straightened his arms. “Why the fuck not?”

Maddie looked uncomfortable. “It’s because of you.”

“Excuse me?”

She cringed. “See, the director is concerned about you two kind of taking over the event, it becoming more about you being there than raising money, and there’s going to be a lot of conservative people there who won’t want their pictures taken—”

“Bridget came by yesterday and asked that I not go, but she didn’t say anything about this.” Anger had his hands clenching. “I’m not going. It should be an easy fix.”

“Yeah, that’s what Bridge said, but he knows the press still could be there. He’s not going to let her go.”
Why hadn’t Bridget told him this? “That’s absolute bullshit. She deserves to go.”

“I know. I totally agree, but what the director says goes. There’s nothing I can do.” Maddie turned her head to the side a bit. “I should’ve figured she wouldn’t tell you. Probably didn’t want you to feel bad.”

Fuck. He felt like an ass. Bridget hadn’t given him a reason for asking him not to attend, but if he’d known it had been because of him…

“Anyway,” Maddie said. “This time of year isn’t good for her. So the whole Gala thing is definitely adding to it.”

Chad thrust his fingers through his hair. “Why doesn’t she like Christmas?”

There was a pause. “Her parents were killed on Christmas Eve when she was in college.”

“Holy shit…”

“I didn’t know how it was before then, but ever since I’ve known her, she doesn’t celebrate Christmas. Bad memories, I guess, but I’ve been trying to give her new ones, you know?” She looked crestfallen. “I was hoping since she was dating you, the holidays could actually be something nice for her.”

Chad stared at Maddie. Bridget had told him her parents had passed during one of their dates, but he hadn’t known how or the timing. Good God, no wonder Christmas sucked for her and on top of that, her director pulling her out of the Gala?

He was pissed and he was also…he was also upset.

Turning to the pot on the stove, he tried to imagine what it was like for Bridget right now and he could easily. Before he had the Daniels family, Christmas wasn’t celebrated. There were no goofy sweaters, gifts, laughter ringing through the house, or shrimp boiling on the stove. Christmas at the Gambles had been cold and as sterile as everything else. Except his mother was usually more doped up and his father would almost always be away on a “business trip,” but this was different.

Different on so many levels.

None of this should really affect him, but it did. He was upset
for
Bridget, and he didn’t want her sitting at home alone. He also didn’t want her not to be able to see a year’s worth of work not come to fruition

Chad wanted to fix this. Strange—really fucking strange, because typically whatever problems he faced, he either ignored them or blew right through them. Or someone else took care of them. He never really fixed them.

But he was going to fix the fuck out of this.

One thing he could do now. The other, which involved a phone call to his accountant and then to the rat bastard of a director, would have to wait.

“Chad?” came Maddie’s quiet voice.

He turned around, his mind made up. “I have to go. Can you pass my regrets to your family?”

Maddie blinked slowly, and then her eyes were aglow with happiness. “Yeah—yes, I can.”

He started past her, but she called out his name, stopping him. “What are you going to do?”

Chad wasn’t 100 percent sure, but he only knew one thing. “I’m going to go make new memories.”

…

It was damn near eight o’clock in the evening before Bridget decided she needed to shower and brush her teeth, but the marathon of
The Walking Dead
had kept her glued to the screen for most of the day.

And nothing, not even hygiene, was more important than the cray cray of a zombie infestation.

Seemed funny to be finally taking off her jammies to shower and put fresh pajamas back on, but that’s what she was doing.

Tying the sash on her robe loosely around her waist, she patted out most of the water in her hair with her towel as she crossed her living room and peered out on the streets down below. There was last-minute traffic congesting the streets, but in about an hour, there’d be nothing, and tomorrow, there’d only be a few cars carrying people to see their families.

Bridget had decided to go to the movies tomorrow and eat as much popcorn as she could stomach.

Moving away from the window, she dropped the towel on the back of the recliner and glanced at the coffee table. Her cell phone had been so silent that Pepsi had curled up around it.

She briefly toyed with the idea of texting Chad a Merry Christmas message as she planned on doing, but after the complete hideous bitch she’d been to him yesterday, she doubted he’d be happy to hear from her.

Chad had actually tried to be considerate and sweet with the food thing, and she had…well, she just had a really bad day.

Bridget sincerely hoped he was having a good time and tried not to think past the New Year, but it was inevitable. How many dates did they have left in them? Three. Maybe four, and then nothing.

And considering how she sounded yesterday, Chad probably thought she didn’t even care.

Sitting down on the couch, she picked up the remote and searched for something on the TV to distract her. When that failed, she tried searching out a favorite book of hers from the case.

A sudden, unexpected knock on the door caused her to drop the book. Pepsi popped up from the coffee table, kicking her cell phone onto the floor as he darted into the bedroom.

Bridget sighed.

Having no idea who could be here other than a neighbor, she peered through the little peephole in her door.

Air punched out of her lungs, and her heart skipped a beat.

She’d recognized that back of a head anywhere.

Chapter Nineteen

Opening the door, she stared, dumbfounded and confused. What was he doing here? She couldn’t even fathom.

Chad turned around, holding a box in his arms. His eyes deepened to a midnight blue the moment they met hers. Without saying a word, he eased past her. She shut the door and turned around, leaning against the door.

It took her a couple of moments to remember how to speak. “What are you doing here?”

Chad glanced around her tiny apartment with interest. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah, I know that.” God, she would’ve straightened up a little if she had known he was going to swing by. “Shouldn’t you be with your brothers and Madison’s family?”

He shrugged as he placed a box on the coffee table. Something festive-sounding jingled inside. Sitting down on her couch like he’d done it a million times before, he grinned up at her as he patted the cushion next to him. He grinned. “I like the paint by the way. Miss Gore said it looked like
Sesame Street
in here, but I don’t think so.”

Oh, Lord help her, she hated that woman. Her gaze bounced from the blue to the red walls. Okay. It kind of did remind her of
Sesame Street
. “You don’t?”

“Nope. I like it. It fits you.”

Her little heart got all a-fluttery at the sound of that, which was bad and so needed to stop. “What are you doing here, Chad?”

“Sit.” He patted the spot beside him again.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” She winced as she caught sight of Pepsi peeking out from the bedroom.

“Nope.”

More nervous than she’d ever been in her entire life, she tugged the robe a little closer and sat down beside him. He leaned back and tipped his head toward her. His gaze traveled over her damp hair and then moved to the vee in the robe before going to the belt she was grasping like a lifeline. “I should’ve swung by about ten minutes earlier.”

Bridget wanted to laugh, but then she remembered—not that she’d really forgotten—what they had done in the Jeep after dinner. Er, what she had done, actually. Each time they did something, she told herself it wouldn’t happen again. It was a useless mantra as she watched him out of the corner of her eyes.

Without warning, a blob of orange jumped up onto the arm of the couch. Chad turned, brows rising as Pepsi stared back at him. “That is the biggest cat I’ve ever seen.”

As if Pepsi had understood the difference between
big
and
fat
, the cat eased down off the arm and tentatively approached Chad. She held her breath.

Chad reached out and scratched the cat behind his ear. “What’s his name?”

“Pepsi.”

“Pepsi?” Chad laughed. “Why that name?”

She smiled. “I found him in a Pepsi case when he was a kitten. The name stuck.” Surprise flickered through her as Pepsi climbed onto Chad’s lap. “I’m shocked that he’s letting you pet him. He’s not that friendly.”

Chad glanced at her, a wicked gleam. “What can I say? Pussies love me.”

A short laugh burst from her. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

“Yeah, that was kind of bad.” He ran his hand over Pepsi’s belly. A few moments passed in silence, and then he said casually, “Madison told me.”

“Told you what?” Her stomach immediately knotted.

He threw an arm along the back of the couch, his fingers catching a strand of damp hair. “About your parents.”

Looking away, she took a deep breath. “So you’re here because you feel sorry for me? Because if that’s the case, you can save your sympathy. I don’t want pity. It’s why I don’t talk about—”

“Hey there…” He gently tugged on the strand of hair. “I do feel sorry for you, but it’s not pity. It’s empathy.”

She turned to him, brows raised. “Empathy?”

He smiled his lopsided grin as he continued to shower Pepsi with attention. “Yeah, you’re surprised that I know what that means, right? But I do. And there’s nothing wrong with feeling empathy for you.”

Bridget stared at him.

“And what happened to your parents sucks. And the fact that you can’t enjoy something like Christmas is even worse.” Chad twirled the hair around his finger, and she found that she liked it when he played with her hair. “I get why you don’t want to. At first, I was against the whole Daniels clan Christmas party, even when I was a kid. You know, it was Chase who started hanging out with Mitch first. Chandler and I were older and thought we were too cool, but the Daniels invited us over one Christmas Eve and we were like, what the hell?”
Bridget settled back against the couch, quiet as he talked. What was rarer than her talking about her parents was Chad talking about his and his childhood. In a way, they kind of had that in common. Their families and pasts were something both of them held close, and they respected that about each other.

“It was strange being around a family—a normal, happy family.” His gaze left hers, centering on the box on the table. “My parents really didn’t celebrate anything. Both of them were too wrapped up in their own worlds really to care for much else. When my brothers and I were really little, they’d put some stuff up for Christmas, but that stopped as soon as my father…”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Bridget already knew from what Madison had told her. The senior Gamble had been a well-known businessman, controlling and hard-partying, and if someone looked up the definition of
womanizing
in the dictionary, their father’s picture would’ve been under it.

“Anyway, once I started going to the Daniels house for the holidays, I was glad I did. And I know you have your reasons. I respect that, but you shouldn’t be alone on Christmas.”

“Chad…” She didn’t know what to say as she watched him gently place Pepsi on the cushion next to him and sit forward. Her heart was pounding in her chest like she’d just run circles around her living room.

“And I’ve spent a dozen or so Christmas Eves with the Danielses and more than I want to remember with my brothers.” He flashed that teasing smile of his. “And I haven’t spent one with you. So that’s why I’m here. Don’t argue with me about it.”

Her fingers loosened around the robe as she shook her head. Part of her was dancing around like a hippie chick, but the other part was terrified—scared senseless by this act of kindness and caring.

And then he opened up the box.

“This is what my mom used to put up in the house for Christmas. It’s kind of dumb and really pathetic, but I always liked the stupid thing.” Chad pulled out a faint green ceramic Christmas tree about two feet tall. Each limb had a tiny bulb attached to it. An electrical plug dangled from the base. “Pretty cornball, huh? But this was our tree for years.”

Tears filled her eyes as he got up and sat the tree on the end table and then plugged it in. The little tree lit from within, glowing a soft green, and the multicolored bulbs glimmered.

“Ta-da!” He straightened and faced Bridget. The wide smile immediately faded. “Oh no…”

“I’m sorry.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the sleeves of her robe. “I don’t mean to cry. I’m not upset.”

He looked more confused by each passing second.

“This is just such a nice thing,” she hastily added. “I love the tree, really, I do. Thank you.”

And she was pretty sure in that moment she knew there was no turning back. She had fallen hard for him, irrevocably so. Nothing was going to change that. Not even the fact that their whole relationship was built on lies.

Bridget was in love with him.

That realization couldn’t have come at a better or worse time. Her heart was swelling while her brain was plotting ways to kick the ever-loving crap out of her. Falling for Chad was so dangerous to her heart, but she couldn’t help it.

Her heart didn’t belong to her anymore.

It belonged to the man in front of her.

Chad’s grin was a little unsure, something she’d never seen before. “Man, if you’re going to cry over that, I better find some tissues.”

Bridget started laughing. “Why?”

“Prepare yourself.” Chad reached back in the box and pulled out a small red box wrapped with red satin. “I got you something.”

“Oh, Chad, you shouldn’t have.”

He arched a brow. “You haven’t even seen what it is.”

“But I didn’t—”

“I don’t care that you didn’t get me something. That’s not what this is about.” He sat back down, and Pepsi rolled over against his leg like a blob of orange fat and fur. “And besides, you’ve pretty much given me my future with the team, even if you agreed to do this to increase your dating pool.”

Bridget opened her mouth, because that so wasn’t the reason why, but she couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not, and how could she admit to the truth?

She was basically blackmailed. What a mood killer.

Chad placed the little box in her hand. Very carefully, she hooked her pinkie under the ribbon and pulled. It slid off easily, and then she pried off the lid.

Bridget sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh my God…”

“I’ll take that as you like it?”

“Like it…?” Bridget reached inside and with shaking fingers, she lifted the necklace she would’ve skipped rent to get. It was the one from the Little Boutique; the emerald on the silver chain.

Chad took the box from her and placed it on the coffee table. “That is the one you were looking at in the store, right?”

“Yes,” she breathed, blinking back fresh tears. “Why would you do this?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“And you always do what you want?” The jewel was the perfect weight.

“Not always,” he said quietly. “I used to think I did and maybe I did, but not anymore—not always.”

She lifted damp lashes and her eyes locked with his. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have, but thank you. And I’m sorry about yesterday. I was such a bitch and you were just being nice. I’m sorry—

“Hey, it’s no big deal.” Chad reached forward and took the necklace from her hands. “Turn around and lift your hair.”

Twisting at the waist, she obeyed and lifted the heavy mass of hair. Chad was quiet and quick as he moved. It was only the cool slide of the emerald between her breasts that alerted her to his closeness. Then the necklace must’ve been clasped, because his hands were around hers, lowering them so that her hair came down over her shoulders. He let go, though.

Bridget faced him, her heart and pulse pounding in every part of her body. She didn’t know what she was doing.

Leaning forward, she placed her hands on the small section of the couch between them, and she pressed her lips to his. “Thank you,” she said again, and pulled back. There was no mistaking the hunger in those cobalt eyes.

Chad said nothing as she stood on suddenly shaky legs. In the dark room lit only by the muted TV and the little Christmas tree, Bridget knew she didn’t want him to leave. Not yet. Not ever. And she also knew she’d only get one of those things.

Her fingers found the emerald, and her chest spasmed. “Would you like something to drink? I think I have some wine or—”

He was on his feet so suddenly that Pepsi shot off the couch and into the kitchen, and Bridget felt a thrill of excitement. There was no mistaking the intent in his expression.

“I am thirsty,” he said, taking a step forward.

Bridget was breathless as she moved back. She didn’t make it very far. He was in front of her in seconds, cupping her cheeks. He kissed her, as quickly and gently as she had kissed him…and she was undone.

“Please…” she whispered.

He grew very still. “Please what?”

She wetted her lips, and Chad’s groan rumbled through both of them. “Touch me, but don’t stop. Please.”