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CHAPTER 10
“We should talk about it.”
“Talk about what?”
“Among other things, the reason you don’t want to talk about it.”
Dara stretched in bed, warm in her cozy cocoon, completely bare under the sheets. She’d been far warmer when Jason held her, when they’d make love two – no, three times – during the night. It far surpassed her imagination, and she longed to be close to him again, and not just physically. Yet a life-changing question trumped all else:
Was she falling in love with Jason Sterling?
She shouldn’t fall in love with him, couldn’t fall in love with him. He was her colleague, a man sought after by millions. There was the accident, which still haunted her. Even if he wasn’t as bad as the tabloids suggested, he’d had his share of women, and would likely move on to the next swiftly. She wouldn’t be one of those women.
She’d awoken to find Jason fully dressed and watching her (how long had he been doing that?), the harsh rays of morning sunlight streaming through the open window. The air was cool and fresh, the world refreshed from last night’s tempest. It was the perfect time to start anew. She wouldn’t let herself fall for him, no matter what her body – and heart – demanded.
And she would ignore the voice that whispered, too late.
“There’s nothing to talk about. We’re two consenting adults who shared relations after a rough night.”
His expression darkened, and she winced. She’d made it sound like something cheap. Maybe it was for the best. She didn’t want to hurt him, but he needed to understand it couldn’t go any further.
“You claim to feel nothing?” He moved closer. And she felt everything. “I’m not sure you mean that, Miss Everett. I believe it meant more to you than you admit, and it’s scaring the hell out of you.”
She held his gaze, silent at his all-too-accurate estimation. He came closer, approaching the massive bed where they’d made love. He was dressed in all black, in a Dragons t-shirt and tight jeans that outlined every inch of those delectable muscles. “There something between us, far more than physical.”
She averted her gaze, amidst the dual desires to push him away and demand he conduct a more intimate perusal. “We should forget it and continue with our professional relationship.”
“You really believe you can forget it?”
Never.
Once again, he interpreted her silence with perfect precision. “Despite your denials, there’s something between us. Something more, something substantial.”
For a second, she allowed herself to believe she could have a relationship with the powerful ballplayer. A connection where they shared their hopes and dreams, endless conversations and beautiful nights, their very future. But then she forced herself back to reality. There was simply too much between them. “I can’t.”
She expected him to argue, but instead he rose. “We should get ready, or we won’t have time to eat before practice. I’ll get the clothing the manager sent up.”
Dara hid her surprise as he walked away, from the conversation and from the room. Was it really that easy? No. Jason’s blazing tenaciousness proved he was far from finished. No doubt he had some scheme, some plan to change her mind. Which left the true question:
Did she stand a chance of resisting him?
“Son, do you know why I called you here?”
Jason gazed steadily at his mentor, his boss, the man he considered one of his greatest friends. “I’m guessing it doesn’t have to do with baseball.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Pat acknowledged, sitting forward in the plush executive chair. They were alone in the guest locker room at the stadium, an hour after Jason left Dara at the hotel to sort through her belongings. Practice wasn’t due to start for half an hour, but Pat had called him in early. “I trust you, Jason. Do you know that?”
Jason nodded.
“You do realize the hotel arrangements weren’t coincidental.”
He dipped his head again. “Yes, sir.”
“So when I get a call from the hotel manager – a very discreet man thankfully – with a wild tale about a late night swim that involved less than adequate clothing, you understand my concern. I trust it wasn’t what it appeared.”
Jason didn’t let his gaze, or voice, waver. He respected the man far too much to lie. “I do, sir, and, no, it wasn’t.”
“You have to understand something about Dara.” The older man gestured to a photograph on his desk, one he carried to every office he occupied, no matter how temporary. It showed a far younger Pat, his wife and three young children – Dara and her siblings. “She may be my niece, but she’s like the daughter I never had. She’s always been independent, never accepting assistance. The truth is I bought her on board to help her. Not that the team couldn’t use an image makeover…”
