Game for It: Game for Trouble Part 3

No, Nick didn't know. He had no clue what was really going on with her personal life. She kept herself closed up tight. "So by having this new s.p.a.ce to work in, she thinks it'll help business grow, right?"

"Right. She plans on hiring a few people on a part-time basis to help her, and she can grow at the pace she wants to, versus feeling all over the place. You made her so happy, giving her the deal on the lease. She's very grateful."

He was hoping to use some of that gratefulness to his full advantage come tomorrow night. Yeah, he might be jumping the gun, thinking he could have her wrapped around his little finger after one measly date, but hey. A man could dream, right?

And the very best dreams he ever had always involved a certain someone.

Miss Willow Cavanaugh.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but she'd been working nonstop since Frank the property manager handed over the keys to her new building two days ago. She'd recruited Sheridan to help her the first day, moving over a bunch of equipment and supplies until the both of them were ready to collapse. The two college kids who helped her on the weekends came earlier today, helping her move the heavier stuff. Pretty much everything she'd wanted cleared out of her house was now in her new business s.p.a.ce. He'd allowed her to move in pending the signed contract, on a trial basis. She knew it was a done deal, so she could suffer through a few dates. No biggie.

This weekend when she wasn't working the two baby showers she booked, she was going to set up her new storefront and the supply room in the back. If she wasn't so d.a.m.n tired, she'd be bouncing on her couch, giddy at the prospect of putting together something that was now so uniquely hers.

Instead, she crashed out and took a nap, only to be woken up by insistent knocking on her door.

Grabbing her phone, she glanced at the time, cursing as she stumbled off the couch and went to answer the door.

There Nick stood, s.e.xy as h.e.l.l as always. Clad in dark jeans and a black sweater that stretched across his broad chest, his hair damp as if he just got out of the shower and his blue eyes locked on her face. She clutched the door handle for fear she might fall.

"What are you doing here?" she retorted, wincing at her snippy tone. Just seeing him looking so d.a.m.n good made it appear.

"Hey," he said as he drank her in, his brows furrowed. "Did you forget about our date?"

s.h.i.+t. She probably looked terrible. "I, uh...had a busy day and sort of fell asleep." This eight-date deal she'd made with him was irritating, but she needed to meet her obligation. Besides, it wasn't such a hards.h.i.+p, spending time with Nick.

Not that she'd admit it to anyone.

He frowned, full of concern. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Really." She nodded, offered him a little smile as she opened the door wider. "Come on in."

He strode inside, smelling of expensive cologne and irresistible man. Funny how the minute he entered her home, he seemed to fill it up completely. "If you don't mind waiting, I can take a quick shower and be ready to go in less than twenty minutes."

"Less than twenty, huh?" He turned to face her, his mouth curved in an adorable smile. "Sounds pretty quick compared to most women."

"I'm not most women." Great, there he went with the innuendo and dripping-with-s.e.xiness routine. Drove her crazy how he did that.

Drove her crazier how she so easily reacted to him, too.

"Trust me, do I ever know that," he drawled, his gaze trailing along the length of her, so intense it was as if he'd physically touched her. "Dress causal. We're going someplace easy tonight."

"Where?" She'd fully expected another intimate dinner at an expensive restaurant-a place that made her so nervous she'd consume too much wine and barely be able to eat her meal. The man agitated her that much.

"A great little pizza place Jared told me about. I guess he and Sheridan go there all the time."

She frowned, tempted to call bulls.h.i.+t. "A pizza place for our first date? You're serious?"

"Darlin', you're lucky I'm taking you out at all. My idea of romance back home is a hot tub, a jug of cheap wine, and a loaded extra-large pizza from the local Hut. No onions though, because I'd fully expect to kiss you before the night is through." He chuckled. "So consider this date my modified homegrown way of romancing you."

Willow wrinkled her nose. The scenario he described sounded like something out of a cheesy TV show. But it also sounded kind of fun. Different. "There will be no kissing involved on this date, I hope you know. None. I have no time for romance."

She was desperate for romance. Just not from him.

Well. Sort of.

"Really?" Nick frowned, leaning in closer, his mouth at her ear. "Guess I'll order those onions after all," he murmured, his voice low, his breath warm on her sensitive flesh. "Since I won't have any need to kiss you, being all anti-romance like you are."

A s.h.i.+ver moved through her. d.a.m.n him and his s.e.xy voice, talking about romance. "You're really taking me out for pizza?"

"Sure am."

"And this counts as one of our dates?"

"Sure does."

She pulled away from him, meeting his gaze. "And you won't try any funny business?"

His expression turned serious, those laughing blue eyes darkening in an instant. "Sure can't promise that. A man's gotta at least try, right?"

She half hoped he would.

"Twenty minutes," she told him as she started toward her bedroom. "I'll be ready."

"Hey Will." His soft voice reached her as she walked down the hall, and she turned to see him watching her.

"Yeah?"

"Wear your hair down."

Willow frowned. "Are you telling me what to do?" She remembered when he used to ask her to keep it down all the time when they were together that summer. How much he'd enjoyed stroking it with his fingers. Thrusting his hands in it when he kissed her. Tugging on it when he...

"Merely making a simple request. Reminds me of how you used to wear it when we were younger-except your hair was longer back then. I like seeing all that hair of yours loose and tumbling down your back. Makes me wanna bury my fingers in it when I kiss you."

Her heart fluttered. Their memories were on the same page. "No kissing, remember?" she said weakly, her mind awhirl at the images he was conjuring up.

"Right." He stretched the word out. "No kissing."

The moment she shut her bedroom door, she sagged against it, blowing out a harsh breath. They agreed to no kissing, but it was all she could think about.

Kissing Nick, those big hands of his in her hair, tugging her close, his tongue searching her mouth, his hips grinding against hers...

She wouldn't survive the night if her thoughts kept at this pace.

Chapter Four.

The restaurant was a cute, charming hole in the wall-if you could call anything in downtown Carmel a hole in the wall-with brick interior walls and a fireplace blazing with the coziest fire she'd ever seen. There was even a dog curled up in front, an old black lab with a gray muzzle, sitting on his dark green dog bed without a care in the world.

Willow loved it. Not that she'd admit it to Nick, but the restaurant was so cozy, so warm and inviting. The tables were full, there was a large room in the back filled with pool tables and a beautiful, gleaming wood bar that quite a few people sat at, tipping back beer and munching on pizza they sold by the slice.

Considering she'd grown up in the area, she couldn't believe she'd never heard of the place before.

Nick ordered an extra-large pizza fully loaded-sans onions, it should be noted-and a pitcher of beer just for her, despite her protests. He said it would relax her. She rarely drank beer, but whatever Nick ordered went down smooth from the first sip and next thing she knew, she'd tipped back two gla.s.ses and consumed three pieces of pizza.

And was seriously considering a fourth.

"d.a.m.n girl, you know how to put it back," Nick said with a laugh as he polished off his fourth piece.

Only Nick would point out she was a total pig. And only with him did she slip enough to eat like one. Was that because she'd known him for years? Back then, she'd been without a care in the world, eating whatever the h.e.l.l she wanted and never gaining an ounce.

But that was a long time ago. Now she exercised, ate right, and rarely indulged.

"I guess I was starving. I've been working a lot lately, moving everything in to the new spot." She wiped the corner of her mouth and reluctantly tossed her dirty napkin on her empty plate.

d.a.m.n it. She'd really been eyeing that thin slice still sitting on the pan.

Leaning over her, Nick grabbed the crumpled napkin and set it on the table beside her plate before he grabbed the very piece she'd been staring at and set it on her plate. "Don't deprive yourself," he murmured close to her ear. "You want it, you go for it."

He could be talking about a mult.i.tude of things, none of which she should be remotely considering. She slowly turned her head to meet his gaze, startled that his face was so close to hers. She could see the golden flecks in his eyes, the light stubble on his jaw, the tiny scar that ran at the corner of his lush mouth.

His mouth. She both despised and desired that mouth of his. The words he said irritated and aroused her-which, of course, was more than part of the reason she was irritated. She shouldn't let him get to her. He was blackmailing her, for the love of G.o.d, most likely doing this-forcing her to go on a date with him, multiple dates with him-just to drive her crazy.

Worse? A tiny, secret part of her wished there was something real between them. Something old yet fresh. She liked that they had a history, however painful it was for her to remember. Though there were good times between them. Plenty of good times...

Blinking, she realized she was still fixated on his mouth. He certainly knew how to use those lips so every thought that floated through her head evaporated upon impact. His mouth should be a designated lethal weapon.

She so needed to stop thinking about his mouth, their past...everything. It was pointless. This date was pointless.

"I'll get fat," she murmured.

"You are the farthest thing from fat." His gaze dropped to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her waist, and her backside. "Besides, I like curves on my woman."

"I am not your woman," she retorted, pulling away from him. Just like that, his mouth broke the heady spell she'd been so close to falling completely under.

"Don't squash my dreams, Will." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture sweet, the look in his eyes hot. "Have you gotten prettier over the years or what? I didn't think that was possible."

She scowled. Caught sight of the sincerity in his gaze, and, Lord help her, her mouth, her entire att.i.tude, softened. "Stop trying to sweet talk me," she protested.

"It's the G.o.d's honest truth. I remember when I first saw you, following your daddy while he strode the edge of the field."

"Yeah, yeah," she murmured, sort of wis.h.i.+ng he would go on.

"He wore a suit that probably cost more than my own daddy made in three months' salary. He scared the h.e.l.l out of me." Nick mock shuddered.

Willow laughed. Nick described her father perfectly. He was a lawyer to the rich and famous-a few celebrities, though most of his clients were professional athletes.

"And then I saw you trailing after him. Pretty as a picture, wearing those little shorts that showed off your long legs and all that dark hair waving in the wind and calling my name. You locked eyes with me and I was a goner." He smiled.

She had no reply. That was exactly how she felt the first time she saw Nick. A goner. He'd touched her, he'd kissed her, and she'd fallen into bed with him, just like that. Being near him shredded her willpower to bits.

"Give me a break," she said, though her voice wavered. Was he some sort of snake charmer? Working his magic on her with words and memories and heated glances?

He was hypnotizing her. She could try and blame it on the beer but she knew the truth.

Really, she blamed it on the man.

"I'm still a goner." His voice lowered to a dangerously s.e.xy level. "You've always had that effect on me, Will. Hard to think when I'm around you."

"If you think all this talk about our past and how hot we were for each other is paving the way for the two of us to end up in bed together tonight, you've got another thing coming," she warned, refusing to fall for his charm.

Fine. She had the same issue as he did when she was with him. They spent a few minutes in each other's company and next thing she knew, she was contemplating kissing him. Touching him. Allowing all the old hurt and long-held resentment to fade away until it was just the two of them. Alone. Together. Again.

Bad enough he tempted her, sitting there so close to her in an intimate booth, their thighs pressed together. All his hard, tantalizing heat searing her from the inside out, firing off all those sirens within her body, saying no, no, no.

More, more, more...

"So I hear from Sheridan your business has really taken off," he said, as if he was just making idle conversation.

She knew he was probably digging, but for once, she didn't care. They'd never really talked about her business before. Usually for Nick, when he saw her in his vicinity, it became all about the chase. "It has. That's part of the reason I was looking for a new location. I need more s.p.a.ce to make everything."

"Cotton candy, huh?" He grinned, and the sight of it made her feel young. Free. Made her think of the good times she shared with this man. "Now, I definitely think you're sweet, but this is the last type of business I ever expected to see you doing."

She stiffened her spine, going on the defensive. "More like you saw me as a spoiled little rich girl who lives on her daddy's money?" Because that's how everyone else saw her.

"No." He drawled the word, his gaze locked on her face. "You were always filled with determination, Will. I figured you'd become a cutthroat lawyer like your daddy."

Why his remark pleased her she wasn't sure, but she didn't have time to a.n.a.lyze it. "I thought about it at one point," she admitted.

"I don't doubt that whatsoever. Cavanaugh and Cavanaugh sounds downright frightening." He smiled. "So come on, tell me about your business."

Wariness settled over her. Why did he care? "I know, it's totally crazy. But it's also a lot of fun. And different. Not that many people have cotton candy at their parties, or baby showers or bachelorette parties, you know? And everyone loves cotton candy, right?"

"Absolutely. I've always been a fan of sweets." His gaze heated as it roamed over her, and she had the distinct feeling he wasn't talking about food.

"The flavors I come up with, I try and make them unique. And they're all organic, made with no dyes or preservatives." Excitement bubbled up within her. She enjoyed talking about her business. She was proud of it, of what she'd come up with. "People with allergies can eat my cotton candy. And my cotton candy c.o.c.ktails have become a real hit, too. It's crazy, how I've been so busy."

"You're smart, Will. I always had faith that you'd go far no matter what you did." His smile faded, though his eyes still sparkled. She could drown in them if she let herself. "You should be proud."

"I don't have anything to be proud of yet," she said quickly. Because really, she wasn't a complete success. A business took a long time to build, as her father not-so-kindly told her over and over again. When he wasn't trying to force money on her to "invest." She didn't know how many times she'd have to refuse him before he got the hint.

"Don't downplay your skills, darlin'." Reaching out, he drifted his fingers across her cheek, his feather light touch making her insides quiver. "You used to do that when we were together. You'd downplay everything. Even that pretty face of yours."