TRIPLE PLAY: AN UNRATED PREQUEL Page 4

  But no, none of the above. Instead, after he’d admitted the truth—though without an explanation—she’d locked him up and stormed out of the penthouse, slamming the door behind her.

  “Well, that didn’t go the way I envisioned it,” he muttered. He rubbed his free hand against his raspy jaw, wondering when, exactly, he’d lost control of the situation, and how he’d managed to screw this up so badly.

  He had probably made a mistake coming here, and he’d definitely made one by telling her she was why he’d come. Hell, he’d waited for seven years; he could certainly have drawn things out a little more. At least until after she’d let go some of the anger she obviously still harbored toward him. Maybe then he could have explained why he’d never responded to her messages or tried to track her down.

  The truth was, he had promised her brother he would leave her alone until she grew up. While eighteen might have been legally old enough for him to give her what she’d been begging for, he’d realized that emotionally she was nowhere near ready.

  Emily’s childhood had been a screwed-up mess. Her parents had been embezzlers who’d fled the country to evade criminal charges, dragging Em and her brother to South America to live in hiding, practically keeping them prisoner. Their grandfather had rescued them, taking them in and raising them under a super-protective eye. Emily’s trip to California had been the first chance she’d ever really had to let loose and enjoy normal teenage experiences, and it had certainly been the first time she’d gotten physically close to a guy.

  Yet none of that had seemed to matter the night of her birthday, when he woke up to find her warm, naked form entwined with his, her hungry mouth whispering desperate pleas. If Seth hadn’t walked in on them, he’d have plunged his cock into her hot body and probably never found his way out again. He’d been fantasizing about her since he’d first laid eyes on her, and for weeks he’d been holding off his twenty-one-year-old hormones with every ounce of strength he possessed. No guy his age would have been able to resist waking up to the girl he wanted more than anything begging him to take her virginity.

  Seth hadn’t seen it that way, however.

  Once big brother had walked in, they hadn’t been able to finish what they’d started. And Rand had wondered about it ever since, the way he occasionally wondered how his life might have turned out if that knee injury in his junior year at UCLA had been more serious. Or if his dad hadn’t died right before Rand’s junior year of high school. Or if he hadn’t said yes whenever his father had asked him if he wanted to play catch in the backyard as a little kid.

  Those paths not taken, the things-that-might-have-been, had always intrigued him. But the one with Emily Crowder most of all.

  Because, though they’d only spent a few weeks together, during those weeks, he’d experienced emotions for her that he’d never had for any other woman, before or after.

  He’d fallen for her. Hard and fast. And even though he’d been angry about what had happened between him and Seth, and even though he’d kept his word to stay away, she’d never been out of his mind for long.

  He hadn’t done anything about it, though, until a couple of months ago when he’d caught sight of her brother across a crowded reception hall. He’d seen Seth’s eyes but his mind had remembered Emily’s.

  That was the moment he’d decided to track her down.

  Rand had been at a turning point in his life that night, having spent months wondering why he had everything men wanted, but he wasn’t happy. He’d wondered why none of his relationships seemed to last, and why he didn’t care. He’d wondered why he couldn’t get one beautiful girl out of his mind. And suddenly, he’d needed to find out what had become of that girl, the sweetly passionate one who’d haunted him for so long.

  He’d kept his promise to Seth. He’d stayed away, ignored her messages, let her grow up, go away to college, experience everything her brother had wanted for her. And now it was time to discover what the road not taken might have held. Time to find out if the fiery emotions she’d ignited in him, still quietly simmering after all these years, could burn even brighter than before.

  Of course, first he’d have to get her to speak to him again.

  Oh. And get out of the handcuffs.

  4

  GIVEN HOW BUSY her evening was, Emily should have completely forgotten about Rand and his shocking claim that he’d come to Chicago just to see her. The hotel was sold out. As always, there were complaints from people about dripping faucets, noisy neighbors, cold room-service food. Plus, tonight, the staff was scurrying to accommodate both the overnight guests and everyone attending the gala event in the Grand Ballroom.

  The fund-raiser/New Year’s Eve party was packed with elegantly dressed people celebrating and bidding on silent auction items, the proceeds of which would go to local shelters. The staff had to watch for any guests who’d overindulged but still believed they could drive home. So a sexy ballplayer and his outrageous assertion should have been the last things on Emily’s mind.

  Of course, they weren’t. She hadn’t been able to get the man out of her head for more than sixty seconds since she’d left his room. Especially because every time she went into the ballroom to check on the event staff, she heard his sexy voice urging people to donate more money to the cause. Hell, if the event had been a bachelor auction and he’d been selling a date with himself, every shelter in Chicago would be funded for a year.

  The only thing that made her smile about the situation was wondering how long it had taken him to get out of the handcuffs.

  “Wait, are you telling me you really know Rand McConnell?”

  “Knew,” she clarified, quickly glancing at Nora, one of the other floor managers, who was Emily’s closest friend on the job. Their shifts were changing and she’d just filled the other woman in on what was happening in the hotel tonight, since it would be Nora’s responsibility until 7:00 a.m. tomorrow. Emily got off at 11—about ten minutes from now—and would be heading home before the drunks hit the road after their midnight celebrations. By the time the clock struck twelve, she’d be safely in her PJs.

  She’d also happened to mention to Nora that she used to be friends with Rand. That was far more interesting to the other woman than anything about the job.

  “How did you know him?” her friend asked, her voice both curious and a little awed.

  “Through my brother. They used to be friends. It was years ago, before he hit it big.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Cocky.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Talented,” she admitted, her tone grudging. “Smart.”

  “Hot.”

  “I suppose, if you like the athletic type.”

  “Who doesn’t like the athletic type?” Nora wagged her eyebrows. “That man could swing his big bat my way anytime.”

  “Eww. I’m sure he’s swung it toward plenty of other women.”

  “So? If it connects with your sweet spot and you score a home run, who cares?”

  Of course Nora would see it that way. Her love life was a revolving door, and she had a man’s attitude when it came to sex. Take the pleasure, forget the pain, and move on.

  Emily suddenly grew still, contemplating that. She’d never dwelled on Nora’s philosophy, being one who always carefully considered going to bed with someone. She viewed sex as a big milestone that sealed the deal of a serious relationship. That one experiment as a wild child with Rand had made her realize that her good-girl roots were best when it came to relationships. She’d never again thrown caution to the wind and taken someone she really wanted, just for pleasure’s sake.

  While none of them had complained about her nice, quiet nature, they also hadn’t always agreed with her sex-has-to-mean-something stance. In fact, to a couple of them, sex had been the culmination of the experience and once they’d got
ten her to give it up, they’d headed out the door.

  She’d never played the game that way...the way those men did. The way Nora did. She just wasn’t wired that way.

  But why not try it? Why not take what Rand wants to give you, take every ounce of pleasure, and then wave happily as he walks away?

  Could she do that? She honestly wasn’t sure. She’d been wildly in love with the man once and sex and love had gotten all mixed up together for her. Could she separate the emotions and just take the sex now, while she had the chance?

  She didn’t think so. No matter what she told herself, her heart would be at risk.

  But even if she ended up having to nurse another broken heart, having the memories of really being his lover this time...wouldn’t that make it all worthwhile?

  “If that man gave me a second look, I would so go for it,” Nora said, still chattering happily. “Rand McConnell is total masturbation bait. Every woman alive would see him and need the strongest setting on her shower massage.”

  “No, thanks,” Emily mumbled, still focused more on her own worries than on the conversation. “I’ll stick to sexy romance novels and my vibrator.”

  Behind her, Emily suddenly heard someone clear his throat.

  Oh, God, please no. Let it be anybody but him.

  But judging by the way Nora’s eyes rounded, her mouth plopped open and her face flamed, Emily strongly suspected her good-luck-fairy was still on vacation.

  She turned around and saw Rand standing behind them. He’d come out of the ballroom and walked into the small alcove near the front desk, where she and Nora had ducked for a quick conference. Obviously, neither of them had even heard him come up behind them; the man was as quiet as a cat. Maybe that was why he was so good at stealing bases, and, according to the tabloids, women’s hearts.

  “Hello, Emily,” he said, his voice sounding normal, though an amused smile tugged at his lips.

  “Mr. McConnell.”

  Tsking, he asked, “What were you two talking about?”

  She shot some flames at him through her eyeballs. “Nothing that matters.”

  Ignoring her jab, he directed his attention to Nora. “I’m Rand McConnell.”

  The other woman gushed a greeting, almost falling over the tongue that was hanging out of her mouth. Rand, smooth and charming as always, managed to calm her down and soon the two of them were chatting as if he were simply another gorgeous, hunky, studly, rich, famous hotel guest.

  “Emily, I’ve been looking for you,” Rand said, moving his full, female-brain-cell-zapping attention back to her.

  Oh, please don’t embarrass me. Considering that she’d just been standing here contemplating giving Rand what he’d come here for, taking some orgasms and hot memories for herself while she could, it probably wouldn’t be hard for him to put a blush on her face.

  “The people from the charity are starting an impromptu auction and I think you should be in there.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean? The organizers worked with our staff planner and there aren’t supposed to be any other events without prior approval.”

  Anything that would require more staff could present a problem, since they were stretched so thin taking care of the thousand people attending the event. Plus, the organizers had already tried to include a raffle that would run afoul of gaming laws, and she’d been worried they would try to slip something similar in under the radar.

  “I don’t know, but I figured you’d want to check.”

  She glanced at Nora, who still had a few minutes before her shift started. The other woman still had that glazed, hot-man-in-her-sights look in her eyes. She’d be of no use, and, technically, it was still Emily’s job to put out any fires that arose.

  Sighing, Emily left her friend to drown in her own drool as she chatted with Rand, who seemed content to watch Emily go. She hurried to the ballroom, entering just in time to hear the evening’s emcee, who’d been reading off the results of the silent auction not long before, announce the winner of what appeared to be a not-so-silent one.

  “The winner of this dance, with a bid of one hundred dollars, is the tall gentleman in the back. Sir, come claim your partner!”

  A giggling woman in a blue gown came off the stage and met the broadly smiling winner at the bottom of the portable steps. The couple came together on the nearly empty dance floor, swaying to the smooth tones of the jazz band as onlookers clapped and continued drinking, eating and celebrating.

  “A dance auction?” she said, assessing the situation quickly.

  Okay, this wasn’t a problem. They wouldn’t require more staff, food or security. No, the coordinators hadn’t included it in their plans for this evening, but she didn’t see the harm as long as the participants were all willing.

  “Now, who’s next?”

  “Five thousand dollars!” a voice called.

  The crowd gasped, searching the room for the bidder as the auctioneer peered out among them. “Hold on a minute, sir, we need somebody for you to bid on before you go naming the price. But hold that thought, that’s a very generous offer.”

  “Five thousand dollars,” the man’s voice—a familiar one—repeated. She placed that voice right before he added, “For a dance with Miss Emily Crowder.”

  No. Oh, hell, no—he had not just done this.

  She was going to kill him. Truly, she was going to put her hands around Rand McConnell’s throat and wring his neck. He had just made a spectacle of her by throwing her name out among these bigwigs, as if she, a uniformed hotel employee, could just join the party.

  She considered slinking out, pretending this Emily Crowder person didn’t exist, but Rand was having none of that. He was striding through the room, the crowd parting like the sea around Moses as he beelined toward her. His attention was focused on her face, so there was no way he could miss her glare. But he didn’t seem to mind one bit.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.

  “Supporting a good cause. I love animals, especially dogs.”

  “So find a Chihuahua to dance with.”

  “I’d rather dance with you.”

  “Sir, is that the lady you’re bidding on?” the emcee asked.

  “Yes. Five thousand dollars for a dance with Miss Crowder.”

  “I’m going to kill you for this.”

  “Dance with me first. And give me a chance to pay up.”

  “What do you say, Miss Crowder?” asked the auctioneer.

  “I really can’t,” she said apologetically. “I’m afraid that’s not in my job description.”

  “Raising money to save animals in need is in everybody’s job description, as far as I’m concerned,” Rand said. “I’m sure Miss Crowder’s superiors would give her a five-minute break to earn ten thousand dollars for such a worthy cause.”

  She flinched. “You said five thousand.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Oh, you sneaky bastard,” she mumbled, even as the crowd’s comments swelled in approval of Rand’s generosity.

  Emily was torn, knowing she would be crazy to expose herself to any more of Rand’s charm, but also remembering the argument she’d been having with herself before he’d shown up.

  Why not be like Nora for a change?

  How many chances would she have with this man, who made her whole body sing in anticipation?

  “Come on, dance with me, Em. It’s the least you can do to make up for the handcuffs.”

  That elicited a tiny, self-satisfied grin. “How long did it take you to get out of them?”

  “A half hour,” he admitted. “It was a little tough to do without someone holding the cuff steady.”

  She nibbled her lip. “I’m sorry. That was childish.”

  “Make it up to me with a
dance.”

  She hesitated, then suddenly remembered that a widowed Scarlett O’Hara had said fiddle dee dee and danced with Rhett Butler at a charity ball. Like Scarlett, she was tapping her toes. She wanted to dance with him. How crazy was that? She’d been trying to decide whether to leap on him or avoid him like the plague, but right now, being in his arms on the dance floor seemed to be the perfect compromise. Besides, what harm could come from being held by him in the middle of a huge crowd? It’s not as if she could do anything terribly stupid or desperate when there were so many witnesses around.

  “Shall we?” he asked, reaching for her.

  She slowly nodded, letting him lead her to the dance floor. There, he drew her close, pulling her tightly against his tall, tuxedo-clad body. Emily, in her navy skirt and white blouse, had to look completely out of place. But as the two of them melted together, she didn’t really care.

  One dance, for charity. What harm can come from that?

  So they danced. The music was low and smooth, meant for close-in dancing, probably to encourage attendees to pay more for their partners. Rand took full advantage, his hand pressed possessively to the small of her back, so that his fingertips brushed against the curves of her rear. Her breasts were heavy and sensitive, the press of his chest bringing her nipples to full, tight awareness. The moment the dance ended and she drew away, he would be able to see the effect he had on her through her simple white blouse—and so would everyone else. But now, when she was so close to him, it didn’t matter.

  “It’s been too long since we danced,” he murmured, his mouth near her temple, his breath brushing her hair.

  “We never danced together.”

  He breathed against her hair, as if inhaling her scent. “Sure we did. That night in the pool.”

  The late-night swim. The one when they’d kissed.

  “There was music coming from that party across the street,” he added.