The Player's Club: Finn (15 page)

“Hmm.” He leaned back as she started to straddle him and work on his fly. “If it’ll help you sleep…”

9

TWO DAYS AFTER the great Disneyland adventure, Diana was back into her normal routine. She was at her desk, but felt slightly disoriented. It had been longer than she could remember since she’d taken a full week and a half off work, and she’d never gone white-water rafting and spent four days at an amusement park. Technically, it was work, but it wasn’t like any work she was aware of. It had been pure fun. She’d opted to go back into the office and hopefully finish off her manual while Finn went to Vegas to…well, get shot out of a cannon, she thought, foolishly grinning.

Seriously. Who else could she say that about?
I’m going to have to reschedule—I’m getting shot out of a cannon on Wednesday.
It was ludicrous. Wild. Amazing.

It was vintage Finn.

Where it once used to strike her as annoying, it had somehow switched and become endearing.

Perhaps all the sex had some influence on that.

“Morning, Penny,” she called out to her assistant. Diana hoped she wasn’t blushing.

Her assistant stared at her, slack-jawed. “Um, morning,” she replied finally, stepping into her office. “Guess
you
had a good time.”

“Hmm?” Diana sighed, feeling some of her Disneyland-Finn high dissipate as she noted the spreadsheet open on her laptop. She sensed her shoulders beginning to tighten.

“You look…” Penny paused meaningfully.
“Relaxed.”

“I got some rest,” she agreed, although now that she thought about it, she hadn’t really. Between the park all day and Finn most of the night, she’d averaged about twelve hours of sleep over four days. Yet, for whatever reason, she’d been energized.

Now, after eight straight hours of slumber, why did she feel exhausted?

She frowned. The job was stressful, yes. But she also loved it. She
loved
solving problems. She loved finding solutions to things that people thought were impossible. Even the technical, eye-crossing details of contracts were like a puzzle for her. And while Thorn was a pain in the ass, he genuinely valued her.

So why was she suddenly so tense?

“Big boss wants an…update,” Penny said, still staring at Diana.

“Okay,
what’s wrong?
” Diana asked finally, standing up. “You’re freaking me out.”

“You just look so…” Penny struggled for a description.
“Loose.”

Diana blinked. And blushed.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean…” Penny said, then her eyes narrowed, and she glanced out the door to see if anyone would overhear. “Did you get lucky?” she asked, in a quiet, incredulous tone.

“Penny,” Diana said, mortified. “Really? Do we need to talk about this?”

“You’ve gone from being tight as a size two to mellow as a Berkeley hippie,” Penny said wryly. “If you’re going to tell me you just got this relaxed from taking a vacation, I’m going to book the next flight to Colorado with connections in Anaheim.”

“Actually,” Diana said, smiling gently, “I went to Disneyland.”

Penny’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “Seriously? Like, the park?”

Diana nodded.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Disney fan,” Penny said. “But, you know, good for you.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Sorry, that sounded weird.” Penny crossed her arms over her chest. “But you’ve been so stressed lately, especially with whatever the Finn business was. It’s nice to see you so calm.”

Penny left, and Diana knew the smile on her own lips had faltered.

The Finn business.

Her phone rang, and she picked it up. “Diana Song,” she answered, forcing herself to shift into business mode.

“What are you wearing?”

She burst into laughter, causing Penny to return, clearly curious. Diana motioned to Penny to close the door. “Black business suit, peach blouse, sensible heels.”

“Yeah, but what are you wearing under
that?
”

She felt her cheeks heat, even as she chuckled some more. “What if I said nothing?”

“Uh-huh, am now picturing that.” He paused. “If this keeps up, I’m not going to be able to fit in the cannon’s barrel, sticking out like this.”

“Vivid,” she murmured.

“I miss you.”

She stammered, stunned. “I…”

“I know, we barely know each other. But you’re fun.”

She blinked. Intelligent, ambitious, even sexy. But
fun?

When had anyone ever called her that?

“You’re fun, too,” she said.

“And sexy as hell,” he prompted.

“Well, yes…” she drawled.

“Ever had phone sex?”

She snorted, then lowered her voice to a hiss. “I am
not
doing that in my office.” Even as part of her was admittedly intrigued.

“You haven’t, have you?” From the sound of his voice, she’d bet anything he had a wicked gleam in his eye. “God, I love a challenge.”

“You…”

There was a curt knock at her door, and Thorn strode in without waiting. “We need to talk,” he told her.

“Thorn,” she said, standing up and almost strangling herself with the phone cord. “Um…”

“Damn it,” Finn said. “That sure ruins the mood. I’ll call you later, sexy.”

“Right. Later.” She hung up the phone with a clatter.

“So how did it go?” Thorn stared at her, expectant, and crossed his arms.

She forced herself to clear her head, damning Finn and his phone calls, and the way her body seemed to heat when he said something as simple as
Hi.

“I finished the hazing and the first challenge,” she said. “I only have to finish the manual and, ah, take that vacation to Paris, and I’ll be in.”

“Paris? Really?” Thorn looked irritated. “Did you just cook this up with my son so you could get some paid vacation time, or what?”

Automatically, her chin rose. “I could keep it local. We could always skydive, blindfolded and naked. Doing shots of absinthe.” She paused. “While shooting skeet.”

Thorn tried to stare her down, but she was too angry.

“Knowing my son, that’s probably a possibility,” he conceded. “So you’re saying I should be grateful that you’re keeping the challenges safe, if still extravagant?”

She wasn’t actually saying that, but if it worked for him, so be it. She simply crossed her arms to match his pose.

He ran a hand through his silver hair, a gesture of frustration that reminded her of Finn. “I swear to God, I will sleep easier when this month is over,” he said, leaning against her glass desktop. “Does he suspect?”

“Suspect what?”

Thorn growled. “Suspect that you’re going to torpedo him.”

Diana felt her breath catch for a moment. “No,” she said, and her stomach roiled. “No, he doesn’t suspect.”

“Good.” Thorn let out a deep breath. “It’s going to be hard for him to take, but it’s the best way, I think. If he knew that you were going to drop the hammer on him, so to speak, he’d probably pull out the stops to convince you to change your mind. He’s damned persuasive, and he’s like a Sherman tank when he decides he wants something.”

“Can’t imagine where he got that from,” Diana demurred, even as her heart rate pounded.

Thorn’s laugh was tired. “I’ll admit, I’m glad he has a strong personality. And if he’d just stop trying to get killed all the time, I’d probably be okay with whatever he decided to do. But this death wish crap has got to stop. It’s killing Betty, and frankly, it’s rough on me.”

Diana felt sympathy for her boss. He cared, a lot, even if he seemed like a total egomaniac. Still…

“If you’d really be okay with him giving up the Club and the death wish stuff and doing his own thing,” she ventured, “you could’ve had that. You didn’t need to agree to this crazy scheme.”

He stared at her, frowning.

“So why am I going to Paris, Thorn?”

“You know,” he said, “you and Betty are probably the only people who call me on this sort of thing.”

She held her breath.

“I’ll admit it. I want him to follow in the family business,” Thorn said. “He would be great at it. And I want the company to go to somebody in the family. I want another Macalister on the board. I want that very badly.”

“So you’re pulling a Sherman tank move.”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t be able to, if I didn’t trust you so much,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and looking fiercely into her eyes. “I know that you’re going to back me up. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t let you handle this situation at all.”

She swallowed hard. “You’ve always believed in me. That does mean a lot.”

“I saw it when you interned here as a law student. You’re hungry, you’re smart and you’re unstoppable.” He sounded matter-of-fact, and it touched her more than a list of fluffy accolades. “So don’t disappoint me, Diana. I want Finn working here. Don’t let him change your mind.”

With that, he turned to leave. “Enjoy Paris. We’ve got a ton of things coming up and I think it’s going to be a long damned time before you’re able to vacation again.”

He went, and she felt adrift.

“Hey, could you sign…” Penny said, entering Diana’s office. She stopped, giving Diana a long look. “Well, that didn’t take long.”

“What didn’t?” She was starting to get a headache.

Penny sighed, pulling a bottle of ibuprofen out of her pocket and reaching in the minifridge for a cold bottle of water. “For the tension to return. You went from light as a feather to a block of concrete in about five minutes.” She handed the water and the pills to Diana.

“Great.” Diana popped three of the pills into her mouth with a glug from the bottle.

“Maybe you can do…more of whatever you did before,” Penny suggested.

Diana sighed, thinking of Finn. The sexy, adventurous, caring, funny guy who thought she was amazing.

It figured. To back the one man who’d ever trusted her, she was going to have to betray the only one she’d ever fallen in love with.

IT WAS SIX-THIRTY and George was at the bar. He’d done the stultifying, stupid busywork that he had to, and attended several mind-numbing meetings that seemed both repetitive and interminable. Not to mention his going in on time—largely—and leaving late. Well, late enough, especially for a Macalister.

Oh, yeah, he’d
earned
this drink, and gulped down two manful swigs of his martini.

Alex, the bartender, already had his second martini ready. George smiled thinly, reaching for the second drink before his first was finished. “Thanks, man. Work was a bitch.”

Alex didn’t respond, which was just as well. George didn’t feel like pouring out his problems to the help, anyway, he thought with a sniff.

“There’s our hardworking man,” Jonesy said, claiming the bar stool next to him. “But chin up, my man, it’s all in a good cause. Alex? Set me up with the usual.”

Alex nodded silently, and had the neat whiskey in front of Jonesy before he’d finished his sentence…and had the second one set up, as well. Jonesy smiled expansively.

Jonesy might have a problem, George thought, toying with his olive.

Jonesy took a sip of his whiskey, then said, “Come on. Let’s move this to a booth, shall we? I don’t feel like screaming every word.”

Something private, then, George thought with a frown, grabbing both martini glasses. They trekked to the far side of the bar, ignoring and ignored by the business-suited happy hour folks. George waited until Jonesy sat down, then said quietly, “What’s going on? Everything all right?” Not that he cared, so much, but there was something about Jonesy that was ever so slightly unstable. If there was a problem, it might be better to know before things got out of hand.