Her hands fell away, and since he was being a good boy, he couldn’t be sure, but he suspected they landed on the snaps of her jeans.
She froze.
He didn’t, stripping his slacks from one leg, then the other, he stood there in nothing but his boxer briefs.
“What’s the matter, Piper?”
She bit her lip. The same lip he’d nibbled on just minutes earlier. “I’m not feeling like the girl next door right at the moment.”
“And I’m hard enough to pound nails right now.”
Her eyes dropped to the front of his boxers and she gasped.
“Piper—and here I thought you were a good girl,” he said with a raise of his brow.
She rubbed her neck and avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me right now. Here I just jump up your ass about treating me with respect and I—”
“I don’t know, I think I might have earned it. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. Go ahead, take the rest off.” With those words, he dragged his boxers down his legs.
“You won’t look.”
“Nope. Will you? You know, again?”
She gave him no answer, unless he counted the strangled sound that came from her throat when he asked. She hurried and dragged her pants and underwear off in one swoop. In the next breath, she was a streak of skin, beautiful skin, as she hightailed it to the massage bed and yanked a sheet over herself.
“Smooth, Piper. Very smooth.”
5
the backstory
MASSAGES WERE SUPPOSED TO BE relaxing. Instead, Piper spent the entire time calling herself all kinds of an idiot because of the way her girl parts practically sighed with Trevor’s every moan.
How humiliating was it to be twenty-five and still infatuated with your high school crush?
She'd worked backstage for years, with every variety of male dancer; the prima donnas, the macho cocky ones, the lazy lot, and the perfectionists.
She had seen some of the best bodies out there and she had always managed to keep her libido in check.
When she dated, she dated business types not so into fitness and their looks, but solid, respectable men with 401K plans and goals for a house, a family.
She wanted what her parents had, well, minus the stay at home mom part. She loved designing, loved working, she just needed to take the leap and hire a team so she didn’t have to do it all to make time for the rest.
Time for a man.
So, what the hell was she doing here, in upstate New York, shamelessly kissing her childhood crush, who might actually be the definition of a womanizer.
She jumped in the shower after the massage under the ruse of wanting to wash off the oil, as well as the traveling and shopping, but what she really did was stand under a frozen spray.
Wasn’t it usually guys who needed to take cold showers?
Well, she tried it. The thing was, it worked, until it didn’t. It started off shocking her system so all she could think about was her misery, until she became all too aware of the tightening of her nipples and the way those sensations shot right between her legs.
So, instead of cooling off, she fought the urge to take care of business, and stepped out of the shower with nipples hard enough to cut glass.
Frozen and a little bit pissed off, she threw on a pair of leggings and a thin sweater. She neatened her braid and ventured into the main part of the house where she found Trevor leaning against the black granite kitchen island with a beer in hand.
He smiled at her, the calculated gleam completely gone for once. “Thirsty?” he asked, raising his beer in the air.
“Parched.” She took the bottle out of his hands and tipped it back.
He smirked. “You must be, pilfering my beer and all. Would you like one of your own?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
Trevor opened the fridge and grabbed a fresh bottle, popped the top, and traded it for the one she stole from him.
They stood side-by-side, leaning against the island, their focus out the floor to ceiling windows along the back of the house giving them a glimpse of their secluded spot in the world.
From the curve of the lake's edge, the house sat nestled in the corner. She’d bet that the boss owned the whole bend, ensuring his privacy from residents that might peek through the trees.
“It’s a great house, but where is everyone?”
“They’re on the back deck while Davidson mans the grill.”
“All of them?”
“Yup.”
She pushed away from the counter and looked for the doors to the deck. “Then what are we doing in here? I hate being the last one to arrive.”
“Hey, relax, I waited for you to come down, and I wanted to give you a rundown on who’s out there. So, you can be prepared.”
“I thought you already did.”
“Yes, but now I can tell you about their significant others.”
“Okay, hit me with it.”
“I’m up against three candidates. Mike Higgins who’s here with his wife, Christina. Then there’s Kent Brochu and his fiancée, Deanne. The third is Rachel Clark.” He held his hand in the air. “I know, she was in the binder, but this is where it gets dicey,” he said with a wince. “I had a fling with Rachel.”
“Oh, goodie. The girlfriend meets the notch on the belt.” A flash of jealousy rose up, unwelcome, and the words hurled out of her before she could swallow them and send them to the bowels of hell where they belonged.
“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing down at his feet.
She shrugged, the aforementioned flash all but a distant memory. “Why? It’s in the past and you’re not mine, so other than for this, it’s none of my business.”
He nodded and straightened. “Okay. Harsh, but true. The thing is…it didn’t end well and she wants my blood. She’s here with this guy, Steve, and I’m pretty sure they aren’t really dating because, while I’m not positive, I think he’s her second cousin and she just borrowed him for the weekend.”
Which made her feel a whole lot better about Rachel. If she reeked of desperation, she wasn’t competition, because in the bit of time she had spent with Trevor, she sensed total desperation would be a huge turn off for a man like him. “That’s gross.”
“Only if they make out…actually, you’re right, it is gross. But the thing is, she’ll do anything to bury me. I never expected to have to compete with her, but Davidson had this bug up his ass about hiring someone settled and she’ll do anything to get to the top.”
“Like you?”
He paused. “Yeah, but I draw the line at dating my cousin,” he said with a tilt to the corner of his mouth. “Even if it’s only pretend dating.”
The look, with just a hint of his dimple, reminded her of all the times he winked at her when he stood up for her with her brother. This time though, she’d swear there was more behind it. “Okay, so I have to watch out for jack nut Rachel. Got it.”
“Jack nut?”
“It’s a technical term. Very scientific. It’s a special kind of nut job, the master manipulator kind, most often women since we’re far more complicated. Our minds are a minefield of intertwining information. Men have compartments. Simple. I’ve danced my whole life with hundreds of jack nuts. I’ve got this.”