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“Life is short, Blondie. If something lights up your eyes like that, you shouldn’t push it – or him, away.”
My instinct was to snap at Miles, but he was right. “It’s business, Miles. Just business.”
But as I thought about meeting up with Gunnar, butterflies attacked the protein shake in my stomach and I started thinking about things I never thought about when it came to a business meeting, like what I was going to wear.
SIX
GUNNAR
Everleigh was a lot of things– some positive, a lot negative – but she was also a woman of her word, and within an hour I received a call from her assistant. The only time that she could fit in a meeting with me was at nine o’clock at night.
I typed the address Greg had given me into my phone and groaned when I saw that it was on the other side of town. I’d assumed that we’d be meeting at her office and had gone into King Coliseum to work out in the team’s gym, but now I barely had time to shower and get across town. And that was if there weren’t any delays on the train. When I was in the city, I pretty much left my giant car parked in the underground garage. Manhattan was not a friendly place for a boat-sized car.
Soap suds ran down my body as I rehearsed my speech. I wasn’t going to see Everleigh. I was going to see Miss King, the general manager of the team. If Colton King, the team’s captain and her brother, found out what I was doing he’d be pissed. There was a formal chain of command and by meeting directly with Everleigh, I was skipping a couple of middlemen. But there was no way that I could tell Colton or Coach my theory about why Everleigh was switching things up. I didn’t have any proof, but the pukey feeling in my gut told me that it was my fault.
And if it was my problem, it was my job to fix it.
As much as I wanted to hate Everleigh, I had seen the sweet side of her. The public and the team only ever saw the salty side. I squirted shampoo into my hands and while I massaged it into my hair – a buzz cut that had grown into a thick hockey flow that almost hit my shoulders – I could almost hear the laugh that came from her bright smile – her real smile, the one that showed her slightly crooked eye tooth, and not the red-lipped one she gave the media.
“Shit,” I muttered as the chub that accompanied the imagery of Everleigh brought me back to reality. How was I going to sit through a meeting with the most beautiful woman I’d ever known without getting rock hard, when I couldn’t even imagine her smile without getting a stiffy?
Trying think about the shitty side of Everleigh – the assertive, bossy, sweary, aggressive side – backfired. Sure, all of those things were negative. But they were also hot as hell. My hair wasn’t even rinsed, and my dick was already rock hard.
Gripping my shaft, I knew that I had to take care of things. I couldn’t trust my cock to remain calm in the meeting, especially once I got a whiff of her musky vanilla blond hair that felt like silk. The veins in my shaft throbbed as I remembered her smell, and it didn’t take long – a few firm-gripped strokes along with the memory of her perky breasts, for me to shudder with release. I rested my hand against the tile wall and let the water drill into the back of my neck.
No other woman had this effect on me, and as I toweled off, I hoped that the jerk off session would be enough to keep my horndog feelings away. But I didn’t know how to deal with the tightness in my chest or the thumping of my heart against my rib cage. Those feelings – emotions, I guess you could call them – how did I get rid of them?
My brow beadedwith sweat as I paced the street. The address Everleigh’s assistant had given me had to be wrong.
“Fuck,” I swore under my breath, something I didn’t do often. Once, while I’d been hiding out in her office en suite, I’d overheard the repercussions of someone who dared to keep her waiting. I knew if I was one minute late, she would either leave or refuse to see me. I was surprised that she had even agreed to meet with me in the first place, and paced the street frantically trying to find the address. Disrespecting her time would ensure that I would never be given the opportunity again.
I passed a bodega, three closed clothing stores, a bakery, and a dark breakfast diner, before checking the address again. Unless Greg had made a mistake, Everleigh had arranged to meet me at a bakery. But then what I’d missed – a light, flickered in the back of the bakery. I tested the door and breathed out as it opened.
“Hello?” I shouted, my voice echoing off the glass display cases. The smell of bread and icing made my mouth water. The steak dinner I’d had at five o’clock felt like it had been eaten days – not hours – earlier. “Everlei—Miss King?” I caught myself before I said her full name.
“Back here.” There was no mistaking her low, husky voice. “Lock the door behind you.”
“Pleaselock the door Gunnar,” I whispered under my breath and turned to follow her orders.
“Please.” There was a softness in her voice this time. She was backlit and standing in the doorway to the rear part of the bakery. I couldn’t see what she was wearing but it had to be tight and formfitting, as her curves were obvious, outlined with light.
As I neared, I could see that she was wearing a pencil skirt with heels, and one of those silky shirts with ties around the neck that on some women would look librarian-ish, but on Everleigh looked sexy. If we were in a movie, this would be when she’d take off her glasses and shake her hair free from the bun.
But it wasn’t a movie, and her hair remained tied tightly on top of her head, with no glasses in sight.. “Have a seat, Mr. Lockwood.” She pointed to the stool across from the stainless steel table.
The metal of the stool was cold, and I realized that we were in some kind of oversized refrigerator.
Don’t look, don’t look.My brain ordered my eyes to keep their focus on Everleigh’s blue ones, but they couldn’t resist glancing down to her chest. Her perfect pink nipples pressed against the silky fabric and my cock pulsed. Shit. I cleared my throat, blinked hard, and hoped she didn’t notice my wandering gaze. I knew that I was in trouble.
“What are we doing here?” Even though my throat was constricted, my voice came out low and confident.
Everleigh slid a pink box onto the table in between us. “Give me your hand.”
My brow scrunched together as I tried to figure out what was going on. “What?”
Everleigh pulled my hand to her, and I felt a literal shock, like the kind my cousin used to give me after shuffling across the carpet in his knee-high tube socks. But then the shock was replaced with a chill as Everleigh placed something cold in my palm. It felt like an ice pick, but when she removed her hand, I could see that it was a plain, ordinary fork.
Before I could ask any questions, Everleigh opened up the pink box. There were three pieces of cake inside – big ones. “Which one do you like the best?”
