Page 26 of He Has Charm

“Speaking of which, I have some good news for you,” she says. But her smile says she’s not convinced. I wait for her to deliver and she takes a deep breath, never a good sign, then licks her lips, distracting me. Until she sits at the table and talks.

“I spoke with Mamma Regina’s and got them to agree to extend your promotional contract.”

“Great job, St. John.” The good news barely jolts my happy meter, but it is good news. I raise my hand and give her a high five across the table. I’m proud that I’ve managed to resist reaching over and giving her a big fat kiss not sparing the tongue. Now that would definitely fuck with my happy meter. She slaps my hand and her smile brightens for a second before it flickers and goes out like a dead candle. “But why do I have a feeling you’re not telling me the whole story.”

“There’s a catch. A condition. The extension is temporary.” She fidgets with her hands and I stare at her with a forkful of chicken suspended halfway to my mouth. Not even the enticing smell of needed delicious food makes me shove it into my mouth until I’ve heard about the condition. My gut clenches with the unknown possibilities.

“We have to shoot a new commercial. And we have to pay for the shoot.” She stops and looks down and I’m confused because it doesn’t sound so bad, but I know there’s a catch to the catch. And then I realize she said we.

“What do you mean by we?” She visibly gulps.

“We, you and Jett Agency, will have to pay for the shoot and they won’t air it until the end of the season, contingent on… your behavior.” She stops again, not looking at me. “It’s at Children’s Hospital. With the kids.” Boom. That’s the catch I didn’t want to hear and she sneaks it in as an afterthought. I put down my fork.

“You’re exploiting sick children to bail out my reputation—”

“It’s not like that. It’s about you in your natural habitat. Look, I know you visit children’s hospitals wherever you go. I know you donate and send personal gifts to children.” She stops talking and my mouth hangs open because this is a well-guarded secret. For the exact reason that I don’t want to exploit these already too vulnerable kids, to use them for my personal promotion. All I want to do is give them a smile and a few bucks to ease their burdens.

She meets my stare and I soften the glare because she is doing the best she can with the clusterfuck I handed her. She lifts her chin and her face clears of chagrin.

“It will raise awareness for the cause, Maddox. Nothing bad will happen to the kids if they appear in a commercial with you. No lightning will strike them dead—I mean—shit. Sorry. You know what I mean.” She waves a hand, flustered and pink and all poise gone. But the fire remains. She has a spark of passion that never dies. No matter how much she tries to hide it.

She also has a point, but it doesn’t sit well.

“Can we cancel it?” I ask, knowing the answer and weighing the surrender of my integrity against the financial needs of my family. I’ve become my mom’s sole support and I can’t fuck up my contract with the Brawlers or any potential sponsor because my career could end at any minute. I need to make as much money as possible while I can to take care of mom and all of us for the rest of our lives. Because I could drop dead from heart failure like my dad.

“Not a chance. I need this deal as much as you do and I worked hard—”

I put my hands up in surrender. She’s one more person relying on me for money. That’s a sobering thought I ought to remember next time I get any ideas about kissing her or… never mind. Focus.

“Look, I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t like the idea. I don’t want the kids to think I’m there for the promotion. I want to be there for them, you know?”

“I get it. We’ll make some visits to the hospital without the cameras. I’m sure they’ll get the message.” She closes up and retreats into her serious-business protective shell, no more apology in her words or demeanor. I want to shake her or, better yet, kiss the feigned coolness from her. That wouldn’t help. Wrong way to think. She’s trying to soldier on and I can’t stand that she’s been put in this situation.

“You’ll come to the hospital with me?” She nods and looks away then stands. She walks toward the window and shrugs from her suit jacket as if she’s hot and I watch every movement, especially the strain of her pristine white blouse over the large mounds of her breasts, disproportionately large for her frame. She’s in shape, fit with toned muscles, but she’s not a big woman. She must be fast as hell on skates.

“What got you started playing hockey?” I throw my napkin onto the table and join her at the window, though she doesn’t turn to look away from the harbor view. Just as well since I can stare at her profile without censure this way, let my eyes wander.

“Where did that question come from?” She gives me a brief, curious glance then turns back to the window. “My father. Back when… never mind. You have a haircut appointment.” She turns toward me abruptly and the move brings her close, within touching distance. Too close. I have nothing to contain my boner as it thickens in my shorts.

“Although,” she says, her voice a whisper and her stare unwavering, her eyes glittering with what I could swear was hunger, “I kind of like your hair long.”

“Cancel the appointment,” I say. If she likes it then I want it because I want to be everything she wants. My heart’s beating faster and I feel the pull to step closer, the need pulling me in her direction like my dick and her pussy are magnetized. She doesn’t say a word, isn’t even breathing, I realize. My hand reaches out and pushes a tendril of her wavy auburn hair from her face and I watch it flash with red fire in the sunlight.

Tension chokes me and my balls and I need to relieve it, to get out of this cauldron without doing something stupid, something we’ll both regret.

“Mind if I use your shower?” My voice comes out gruff and I see her eyes watching my mouth.

“Didn’t you already take a shower at the rink?” Her voice is pitched high and panic flashes in those eyes before disappearing. She steps back. I step forward. She clears her throat. “Why do you need another shower now?” The look I give her is nothing short of simmering, relaying my meaning without spelling it out as I rake my eyes over her body, covering every sensual line, even what’s covered by the business suit.

I can literally see her go from warm to volcanic in so short a time it doesn’t seem possible. But one look at those sizzling green eyes and I feel the answering passion reaching out and grabbing me by the balls. The need to escape to the shower intensifies because the alternative is to ravish her where she stands. Holding up to the invitation of her shiver, her mouth slightly open and her tongue darting out to lick her lips, whether she understands the siren call she’s screaming at me or not, is getting harder by the second. Literally. I swallow because there’s no mistaking that she knows what I want to do in that shower. And that I would so rather do it with her.

“Take my word for it, Harper. I need a shower. Now.” Her eyes flare wide for an instant.

“Maybe I should,” she says, then pauses and clears the rasp from her voice before continuing, “should take that extra room and leave you on your own tonight.”

“And free the prisoner?” I can’t resist taunting her. And I don’t want her to leave in spite of the torture. “What kind of warden are you anyway?” Struggling to match my lighthearted words, the slight twitch in my jaw muscle betrays my tension, the raw sensuality of my posture and vibration in my voice impossible to control. The intensity of my passion scares the hell out of me. She’s wearing an unattractive brown skirt and we’ve never kissed let alone had any other real intimacy to tease my appetite for her. Yet it’s there in full, technicolor, ball-tightening reality, and I can’t seem to control it.

And most unfortunately, there’s no relief in sight. Except the shower.