Author: Roni Loren
“You sure the guy you were meeting with wasn’t setting you up? Couldn’t he have tipped off someone?” Grant asked as he walked out of the kitchen and handed her a steaming cup of coffee.
She took it from him, warming her hands against the mug. “I don’t think so. Rodney was taking a big chance talking to me. He told me in not so many words that he was paid cash from boosters during his first two years at Dallas U. before he blew out his knee. If that came out and was proved to be true, the NCAA wouldn’t just sanction the college, they’d do a full investigation on the current program. A program that is heading toward the national championship this year, by the way.”
“So I’ve heard,” he said dryly. “They beat my Longhorns to the ground a few weekends ago.”
“Your defense sucks. They beat themselves.”
Grant frowned at her, then apparently decided to wave off a football debate. Wise move. She’d win. “But this Rodney guy refused to give you an official statement. Seems kind of shady to me, like he was using that info as bait to get you out there.”
She shook her head and tucked her legs beneath her. “That’s not what my gut’s telling me. I think he was being honest. But he’s got kids now and putting his name out there as a snitch—well, it’s dangerous. You know how people are about football around here.”
Grant sat down on the couch across from her, his mouth set in that way that told her he was making plans without her input. “Yeah. I do know. It is dangerous. Which is why you’re going to back off for a while.”
She halted mid-sip. “The hell I am. Today proved how important it is to break this story. We just need to take extra precautions.”
“Charli, this is not a negotiation,” he said, his tone slipping into that dominant space he’d used with her the other day. “Your brother told me to keep you safe, and I intend to do that. But I can’t keep doing it from a distance. This story isn’t going anywhere. You need to cool your heels and let whoever is after you think that they were successful in scaring you off.”
The chill she’d been trying so hard to chase off disappeared in a rush of angry heat. “Cool my heels? Grant, that’s not how this works. I’m a reporter. This is what I do.”
“And I’m former CIA. When your cover is blown, you have to back off for a while or send someone else in. You’re blinking bright red on someone’s radar right now.”
She groaned; of course he’d been a government operative. That explained a lot. “I’m not going to let them chase me off. I need this story.”
“Why, Charli? Why do you need this story?” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “What is so important about it that you’d be willing to risk your goddamn life to get it?”
She started to open her mouth to speak, to give the knee-jerk reaction that wanted to come out, but she knew nothing she said would be the real truth. Yes, she believed that what was happening was wrong. Yes, she believed cheaters should be punished. But that burning, desperate drive to get this story as soon as possible had nothing to do with some reporter champion-of-the-truth moral code. This was about proving something to herself, to the mother who had walked out on her, and to everyone who ever told her she couldn’t do it. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, really? Try me,” he said, leaning back and using the same words she’d thrown at him in the kitchen two days ago. Despite her frustration with him, her body’s sensors perked at the memory.
She shifted on the couch and sighed. “I need to do more than I’m doing now. I didn’t get into this field to sit behind a computer gathering research for some other reporter’s piece. If I can land this story, there’s no way they won’t give me a promotion to an investigative reporter.”
“Is that really the job you want?”
She stared down at her coffee. “No, I want the anchor position. But apparently I’m not good on camera.”
“And those idiots who told you that must be touched in the head,” he said, a thread of anger weaving through his tone. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman. Yes, maybe you’re a little rough around the edges with your approach, but that’s something that can be refined. And if they can’t see your potential, then I don’t know if they deserve to have you anyway.”
Charli looked up, startled by the conviction behind his words.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said, his drawl thickening as he got more fervent about whatever ideas were churning in his head. “You take some time off from chasing this story, try to do most of your other work from here for a while, and I’ll take you on as my trainee. I usually require my trainees to stay here full-time for the month. But I know you can’t take off that long, so give me two weeks. I’ll make sure that when you walk in for that anchor audition, they won’t be able to pick their jaws up off the floor. You’ll be so damned polished they’ll have to put on sunglasses to shield themselves from the glare.”
She stared at him, then couldn’t help it, she laughed. “You may be a little overconfident in your abilities there, cowboy. I’m a quick learner, but there’s a lifetime of tomboy in here. Don’t think two weeks is going to cure me of it.”
The corner of his mouth tilted up, drawing his dimple out. “I don’t want to cure you of it, freckles. But I also know that if you give me a little time, I’ll show you how much woman is in there, too.”
The promise in his statement and the look he gave her had her swallowing hard. “What exactly would I be signing up for? Obviously, the other day was a disappointment for you.”
A crease formed between his brows. “You think I was disappointed in you? Darlin’, I can’t get you or that damn afternoon outta my head. I’ve barely gotten anything else done because you’re so…distracting.”
She looked down at her hands, trying to hide how much his words relieved her. After leaving his place, she’d been convinced she must have done something wrong.
“I was pissed at myself. I hammer into my members the rules of safe, sane, and consensual play. And here I am hitting a vanilla girl who’s never played before with a belt, not even knowing anything about your limits.”
She ran a finger around the rim of her coffee mug, not daring to look at him. “It was fine. You didn’t hit me that hard.”
“Yeah, but what if you’d had an abusive childhood where you were beaten with a belt and I had triggered that trauma for you? Or what if you had a former injury I needed to be aware of? It was irresponsible on my part, and I’m sorry.”
She glanced up, surprised by the deep sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t have an abusive childhood. And…” She attempted an it’s-no-big-deal shrug. “I kind of liked the belt, for what it’s worth.”
“Is that right?” he asked, a devious smirk forming. “Duly noted. Maybe you’re not as vanilla as I thought.”
She didn’t know what to do with that observation, wasn’t sure what the hell was going on with her at this point. All she knew was that for the last two days, she hadn’t been able to close her eyes without replaying the way Grant had handled her, the sharp way her body had reacted to his touch and words. She hadn’t been able to go to sleep either night without sliding her hand beneath the band of her pajama bottoms, touching herself and imagining it was Grant’s fingers and tongue instead. Her panties were damp already simply sharing the room with him.
She set her mug down and fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt, hoping her neck wasn’t as pink as it felt. Damn redheaded complexion. “What do you suggest for training?”
“You sure you’re serious about really trying this with me?” he asked. “Because I’m not good at doing anything halfway.”
Boy howdy, had she learned that. “Yes. Lay it on me. What do you propose?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, looking resolute and foreboding. “For two weeks, when you’re not working, you’re all mine.”
She wet her lips, her nerves starting to take root and bloom. “Meaning?”
“I’ll own you, Charli.”
ELEVEN
Charli had never been to a spa before. Her beauty regime usually consisted of a quick split-end trim in the salon at her gym with an occasional deep conditioner. For a rare treat, she’d spring for a pedicure. But today she had the feeling she was going to experience a whole other side of the rigors of beautification.
Kelsey was sitting in the zen-style waiting room when Charli walked in, looking vastly different than she had the first time Charli had seen her. The catsuit and expertly applied makeup had been replaced by jeans, a soft white sweater, and a bare face that was really unfairly beautiful. If not for the world-weary glint Charli had seen in her eyes the other night, Kelsey could pass for a college student.
Kelsey looked up from the magazine she’d been reading and broke into a smile. “Hey there. Guess you didn’t get lost this time?”
Charli pulled the note Grant had left on her counter that morning from her pocket and held it up. “Grant gives good directions.”
She cocked an eyebrow and her grin turned conspiratorial. “I bet he does.”
Charli shoved the note back in her pocket, trying to cover up her instinctive, awkward reaction at Kelsey knowing exactly what she and Grant were doing. Being open about sex was going to take some getting used to. She’d grown up in a household where even the mention of her period had set her dad into a stuttering, bumbling mess. Any talk of sex would’ve probably made his poor head explode. An appointment card for the women’s health center had just magically appeared on her bedside table the day after she’d turned sixteen. “No comment.”
Kelsey laughed and tossed the magazine onto the coffee table as she stood. “So are you ready?”
She shrugged. “I guess so. Grant didn’t exactly tell me anything more about this than to show up.”
“Uh-oh,” Kelsey said, pulling a note from the pocket of her jeans. She unfolded it and showed a very long list—all in Grant’s precise handwriting. “Then you have a few surprises to look forward to. He’s scheduled you for the works.”
Charli leaned forward, trying to read what was on the list, but Kelsey folded it before she could read anything more than “wax.” Oh, shit.
“No peeking. If he had wanted you to know, he would’ve already told you. But I promise you’re going to look and feel fabulous by the end of it.”
Kelsey linked arms with Charli like they were two little kids ready to skip down the hallway. The BFF vibe that rolled from Kelsey was foreign to Charli. She’d never really had that kind of thing with girls, even as a kid. While the other girls had been braiding each other’s hair and talking about boy bands, Charli had been knocking down the guys in touch football. The one time she’d even been invited to a slumber party, the other girls had ended up teasing her about her unshaved legs and lack of training bra.
But she liked that things didn’t feel fake or forced with Kelsey. The woman’s warmth and desire to help seemed genuine. So Charli took a deep breath, trying to relax even though she was completely out of her element. “If you say so.”
Kelsey pushed open the main door to the spa area. “I do. This is going to be fun. And boy, are you going to break some hearts tonight. All those subs who were interviewing to be Grant’s are going to be so jealous when they hear.”
Charli’s tennis shoe squeaked against the floor as her step faltered. “What do you mean?”
Kelsey peeked at her, a slight wince. “Shit. Big mouth. Sorry. Never mind.”
Charli stopped and unlinked her arm from Kelsey’s, her unease returning. “No, I want to know.”
