Playing His Game Part 5

"Okay, Mom." Roarke concentrated even harder on the plate and pretended to be completely engrossed in his pot roast and carrots. Deirdre took the hint and dropped the subject.

After dinner, Roarke left the Mediterranean-style house, taking a seat on the railing of the porch. He took the script from his inside jacket pocket. It was dog-eared from his many readings. As always, the scenes following the initial encounter between the playboy and the girl did nothing to inspire him. As with most scripts, the pa.s.sage of time was swift. By the next s.e.x scene, the girl was a willing convert. Roarke felt his mouth twisting, knowing Mya wouldn't be so easily won over.

Fantasies about all the things he wanted to do with her came easily, but they all seemed too forward this soon into the game. Roarke didn't want to frighten her with his desire, and he didn't want her to hate him anymore than she already did. He had to come up with something for tomorrow's meeting, but so far nothing he had thought up was the right thing.

The sound of the screen door opening had Roarke looking up, hoping it wasn't Mom coming to continue their discussion. To his relief, it was Sam. "Hey."

"What are you doing out here all alone?"

Roarke shrugged as he bent the script in half vertically so he could stuff it back in his jacket. "I just wanted to get away."

The grin teasing Sam's mouth grew, giving him a boyish look. "From Mom?"

"Maybe." Roarke's smile gave his real answer. "Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"You ready for fatherhood?"

Sam shrugged, and a hint of doubt showed on his face. "It's scary." He leaned against the railing on the

other side of the support post. "Ever give it any thought?"

"Nah. I'm too young."

"Four years younger than me, bud. That's not too young." Sam shook his head, which caused his brown

curls to flop. "Mom means well, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Roarke started to put the script away, but Sam took it from him. "Hey!"

"Another movie that's going to make you millions?" Sam flipped it open before Roarke could grab it back. His eyes widened. "What are these notes?"

Ruddy color swept across Roarke's cheekbones. "Nothing. Just director's notes."

"'Mya would hate this'." He flipped the script open to the middle. "'Possibility once I know Mya better'."

Sam looked up. "What is this? There's no Mya listed on the front page."

He s.n.a.t.c.hed the script from his brother's fingers and shoved it back in his jacket. "Nothing."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "C'mon. Spill."

"Honestly, it's nothing."

"Who's Mya?" His tone was casual, but his questioning eyes were sharp.

"No one. There is no Mya." Roarke averted his eyes.

"You never could lie very well." Sam chuckled. "Fine, don't tell me."

"She's just a girl." A girl I'm completely crazy about. "Nothing important." Why can't I stop thinking about her?

Lifting a shoulder, Sam said, "If you say so."

"She's driving me nuts!"

Sam quirked a brow. "What?"

"I can't stop thinking about her-fantasizing about her. She's in my dreams, dammit." To Roarke's

surprise, Sam laughed. "You think that's funny?"

"I never thought I'd see you fall in love."

"I'm not in love." He couldn't be. She belonged to someone else. He had only a tenuous hold on her, and

there was no way she could ever love him.

With a snort, Sam clapped him on the back. "I hope Mya realizes how lucky she is."

"Yeah, she's in seventh Heaven," Roarke muttered under his breath.

Sam frowned. "Problems?"

"She hates me."

His eyes widened. "What did you do to make her hate you?"

Roarke hesitated. His actions weighed heavily on him, but Sam was probably not the best choice of

confidant. He had very rigid moral views and would never understand. On the other hand, he gave sage

advice. "We're playing a game together." He handed him the script once more. "This game."

Sam's eyes grew round as he read the brief synopsis of the script. "I take it she doesn't want to partic.i.p.ate?"

"She's engaged to someone else."

He was succinct. "It'll never work."

"Maybe..."

"If you really care for the girl, don't make her do this."

Roarke's shoulders dropped as his brother confirmed what his own conscience had told him for days. "I know you're right."

"Good." Sam shoved the script into his hands. "If you're lucky, maybe you haven't ruined her life yet."

"Yeah." Yet. Despite his brother's words, and the p.r.i.c.kle of his own conscience, Roarke knew he couldn't let her go. The game hadn't played out to its conclusion. And for him, the game was all too real.

Chapter Seven.

Dancing Mya let herself into Roarke's apartment, unsure of what to expect. Her stomach clenched when she saw him propped against the counter in the kitchen. A blush swept across her face as she remembered the way he watched her at their last meeting. She dropped her eyes and frowned when she noticed he wore a tuxedo. She opened her mouth, but he spoke before she could ask about it.

He smiled at her as his eyes raked over the blue and gold sundress that displayed just a hint of cleavage. She looked wonderful-fresh and composed-but the outfit wasn't suitable for today's activities. "There's a box for you on the bed."

"Is every session going to start with dress-up?" Her tone was sarcastic. She ignored the flutter of excitement. She had never gotten many gifts from Bobby, but that was no reason to look forward to something from Roarke. It was sure to be another teddy, which was for him, not her.

Roarke shrugged. "Maybe." His sanguine response hid his anxiety over their upcoming meetings. Planning their meetings was nerve-racking, especially with him wanting each to be better than the last. He had a feeling she wouldn't be at all thrilled with the plans for their next meeting. He didn't even know how she would respond to today's events, and they weren't nearly as intimate. "Go get dressed."

Mya walked down the hall to the bedroom, alarmed to notice he followed her. "What are you doing?"

Roarke gave her a lop-sided grin. "Watching."

"I don't..."

"I'm staying, Mya."

She glared at him, then walked over to the large beige box on the bed and carefully pulled off the blue satin ribbon. She lifted the lid and gasped. It wasn't lingerie as she had expected. Mya lifted the dress out to examine it more closely. It was a midnight blue shade with a velvet bodice and full satin skirt. There were no straps, so only her own endowments would hold it up.

With a glance over her shoulder to gauge his reaction, she pulled the sundress off and draped it across the bed. Mya s.h.i.+vered as she felt his eyes slide over her body. She didn't have to turn around to know he watched her every move.

She unzipped the blue dress with trembling hands and dropped it over her head as quickly as possible.

"Beautiful, except for the bra straps."

Mya turned around and scowled at him. "It doesn't matter if they show."

Roarke shook his head. "It matters to me."

"Fine!" She pushed the dress down to her waist and removed the plain white bra. She heard Roarke's indrawn breath and froze. Mya lifted her bowed head and met his hungry gaze. She could feel her nipples harden as his eyes settled on them. It was almost like he was touching her. He lifted his eyes, and they locked with hers for a long moment. She had no doubts of how much he wanted to cross the bedroom and touch her.

The thought alarmed her, and she tore her gaze from his. Mya pulled the dress up and fumbled with the zipper, which she got halfway up her back. The back of the dress itself fell just below her shoulder blades. The bodice was lined with a slippery material that molded itself to her and caressed her body with every movement. The sensation, combined with the way he looked at her, caused her to s.h.i.+ver again.

"There's another box too," Roarke said.

She turned her attention to the smaller box on the floor. She lifted it up and removed a pair of high-heeled blue satin pumps. Mya kicked off her sandals before she slid her feet into the shoes. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she realized her hair didn't look right with the dress. She obeyed a spur-of-the-moment impulse and opened her purse to take out a brush and plain black barrette she kept to pin up her hair.

Mya started to brush her hair, but stiffened when Roarke walked toward her. Without speaking, he took the brush from her and began to brush out her long hair. Her stomach clenched, and her breathing grew shallow as his hands moved through her hair, gently wielding the brush and smoothing through the strands. He didn't touch any other part of her, but she found herself wis.h.i.+ng he would. That thought propelled her to step away. "That's fine."

He nodded and proffered the brush before he stepped away.

She gathered her hair into a ponytail and rolled it up, then fastened the barrette to hold it in place. Once more, she looked at the mirror, and her mouth bowed into an O of surprise.

She hardly recognized herself. She had never worn anything so elegant, not even for the prom. It seemed silly to waste the dress on whatever Roarke had planned, but she wasn't about to ask to keep it. She wouldn't feel comfortable wearing it again, and Bobby would throw a fit if she brought home a 'gift' from Roarke.