Power Play Page 20

  On a whim, I called Ryker while I was waiting for the bus. We’d left things kind of shaky yesterday, but I was hoping he was around.

  “I’m playing hooky from work,” I said when he answered. “There’s a White Sox game at three.”

  “I’m there,” he replied.

  “Okay. Meet me out front.”

  Just like that, my bad mood melted away. I knew Parker would find out pretty soon that I’d dissed his car—and my mother would be none too pleased that I had to cancel—but it served him right. And if I happened to let slip that I was out with Ryker when he called (because I knew he’d call to yell at me), well, so much the better, right? All’s fair in love and war.

  Being with Ryker was a relief after the emotional angst of being around Parker. He was waiting for me when I hopped off the bus, his jeans and White Sox T-shirt almost an exact duplicate of what I was wearing, only I was in cutoffs.

  He grinned when he saw me, his aviator sunglasses reflecting my image when I got close enough. “Nice hat,” he said, reaching out to tweak the brim of my baseball cap. “I’m glad you called. Couldn’t have picked a better day for it.”

  And it was a gorgeous day. We bought tickets in the cheap seats, hot dogs and beers, and settled in to watch the game. I’d even put mustard on my hot dog, and it tasted fabulous.

  No one sat in front of us, so I stretched my legs over the back of the seat in front of me. Might as well get some sun on my legs, too, and not just my thighs.

  “It’s a little hard to concentrate on the game when you do that,” Ryker said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile.

  “I need to start working on my tan,” I explained. “Bikini season is just around the corner.”

  His mischievous grin was full-on now, plus dimple. “Now that’s something to look forward to.”

  Ryker was an incurable flirt and player, and I didn’t take half of what he said seriously, but boy could he pump up a girl’s ego. His teasing innuendos had me laughing and blushing at the same time, and it wasn’t until after the seventh inning stretch that he went somewhere I didn’t like.

  “So what’s Parker up to today?” he asked. “Any word on the deal with ZNT?”

  I finished chewing the handful of popcorn I was munching on. “He’s out for the afternoon,” I said curtly.

  “Do you know where he went?”

  I took a sip of beer (because the ball park didn’t sell vodka) before answering. “Nope. Didn’t ask.”

  “Could he be meeting with Viktor?”

  “I’m not doing this,” I said, turning to fix him with a glare.

  “Not doing what?”

  “I didn’t invite you here so you could quiz me about Parker,” I said.

  “Since what Parker’s doing has a direct impact on you, my asking is less about the case and more about how much danger he’s putting you in.”

  Ryker’s frank response had me staring dubiously at him. “After all the BS you’ve been shoveling my way today, how am I supposed to take you seriously?”

  He had the audacity to look confused. “What BS?”

  I waved my hand. “You know, all the compliments and teasing, telling me how great I look, et cetera. You’ve been laying it on thick—which I appreciate, don’t get me wrong—but then how am I supposed to know when you really mean something you say?”

  He didn’t respond for a moment, then reached up and slid off his glasses. The blue of his eyes was as clear as the sky above us.

  “Sage, I’ve been perfectly honest with you today. It’s not BS. You’re gorgeous and I like making sure you know it. This isn’t a pickup line or a performance designed to get you into bed.

  “If you don’t want to talk about Parker,” he continued, “then we won’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to make you see sense when it comes to him.”

  Okay, well he’d been doing good up until the see sense part. I sighed inwardly. He hated Parker, distrusted him, and nothing I said was going to change that.

  “Let’s just enjoy the game, okay?” I asked. It was a peace offering, and it seemed Ryker recognized it as such because he smiled as he slid his sunglasses back on.

  “Sounds good to me.” He draped his arm over the back of my chair, his hand lightly resting on the back of my neck bared by my ponytail. It felt nice, kind of possessive, and I liked it.

  A few minutes later, my cell buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and grimaced. I’d known it was coming but still, a confrontation with my boss was usually something I avoided.

  “Why the hell didn’t you do what I said?” was his opening line the second I answered.

  “You gave me the afternoon off,” I replied coolly. “What I do when I’m not on the clock isn’t regulated by you or anyone else at KLP Capital.” Not quite true, since I’d been at Parker’s beck and call for over a year, but it was past time for that to change.

  “I gave you time off so you’d get out of town until it’s safe for you to come back,” he retorted.

  There was a crack of the batter hitting a ball and the crowd cheered. Music played over the sound system.

  “Are you at a fucking baseball game?” Parker growled in my ear.

  I cringed at the anger in his voice, but kept up my bravado. “Not just a baseball game. The Sox are playing today.”

  “So although I tell you it’s not safe, you’re at a public venue, alone—”

  “Who said I was alone?” I interrupted. Of course since I’d been fawning over him the other night, he’d assume I had no one else in my life. Wrong, buddy. “Ryker’s with me.”

  Silence.

  “Trying to get back at me, Sage?”

  That stung, because it hit too close to home.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped. “I know it’s impossible for you to comprehend that he might actually be into me, but you’re wrong.” I glanced at Ryker, who was listening and now had a big grin on his face. Quickly, I covered the phone’s mouthpiece and spoke in a hushed whisper. “He is wrong, right?”

  Ryker slid his fingers up my nape to curl around my neck. “Oh, yeah. He’s very wrong.”

  Good to know.

  I spoke into the phone again. “So have a good weekend,” I said. “I plan to.” I ended the call without waiting for a response. Darn close to hanging up on my boss, but I’d been pushed beyond my limits this week.

  And had I just insinuated that I was going to sleep with Ryker this weekend? Kinda. Hmm.

  So maybe I had invited Ryker just to get back at Parker, but it had been done unconsciously, so I didn’t think it really counted. I was hurting from his rejection, so yeah, maybe I had wanted to prove that I wasn’t a troll, and using Parker’s sworn enemy to do it was probably infantile, but I couldn’t help the satisfaction that came from that phone call.

  Yes, I was officially fifteen years old again.

  “Sorry about that,” I said to Ryker, sliding my phone back into my pocket.

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Parker’s a dick.” No argument from me on that one, not today. “You want to use me to get to him, I’ve got no problem with that.”

  That made my cheeks heat with embarrassment, but Ryker didn’t seem upset, so I gave an internal shrug and let it go.

  “So tell me, how’d you get into baseball?” he asked.

  I raised an eyebrow, twisting in my seat to look at him. “What? A girl can’t be a baseball fan?”

  He grinned. “That’s not what I said. I’m asking how you got into baseball.”

  “My dad,” I said, settling back to stretch my legs out again. “He loves the Sox and I grew up watching them on TV. I can’t remember not watching baseball with him. What about you?”

  “I used to play.”

  “Really?” It seemed incongruous, given what he’d told me about his childhood.

  He laughed a bit, leaning back and bracing his elbows on the arms of his seat. “Don’t look so surprised,” he said. “My mom insist
ed I get involved in some kind of sport. Thought it’d help keep me out of trouble. So I picked baseball.”

  “What position did you play?”

  He flashed a shit-eating grin. “Third base.”

  I laughed out loud. I should’ve known. It was so appropriate for Ryker.

  “I take it you didn’t play a sport in high school?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No sports, no.”

  “Then what? No wait, don’t tell me…the debate team.”

  I laughed again, swatting him playfully on the arm. “Please. I wasn’t smart enough to be on the debate team.” Ryker caught my hand in his and threaded our fingers together, which distracted me enough to tell him the truth. “I was a cheerleader.”

  Now it was his turn to laugh. “No way,” he said through his chuckles. “You? Not possible.”

  “Do I have to get up and do my ‘Ready? Okay!’ for you?” I asked with mock outrage. “And don’t make me do the splits, because I’m telling you, I’ve still got it.”

  “I’ll need proof of that,” he teased, squeezing my hand.

  Our eyes met behind our sunglasses and time seemed to slow in one of those moments destined to imprint on my memory. In the warm spring air, with the sunshine heating my skin, the smell of hot dogs and popcorn in the air, and the crack of the baseball, it was the most perfect moment I’d had in a really long time.

  A shout broke the moment and we both looked up to see a baseball hurtling toward us. I cringed, hoping it wouldn’t hit me. But Ryker’s hand flashed up and the ball smacked into his palm.

  A beat passed, and then we were both on our feet, cheering and laughing as he held the baseball aloft in triumph for the sparse crowd out here in the way-way outfield. Catch a homer at a White Sox game? Check.

  “Damn, that hurt like a sonofabitch,” he said with a laugh, shaking his hand out.

  “You’re not supposed to say that,” I teased. “It’s unmanly.”

  Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulled me into him. “Oh, it is, is it?” he asked, his lips twisting in a mischievous grin. “So does that mean I don’t get a kiss for saving you from injury-by-baseball?”

  “I didn’t know you wanted one,” I said loftily, playing hard to get. “I didn’t want to just assume—”

  He cut me off with a kiss, his lips warm and soft against mine. I melted against him like cotton candy left too long in the sun. Ryker needed no more encouragement to deepen the kiss, which made the bill of his cap knock me in the forehead.

  “Pretend that didn’t happen,” he murmured against my lips as he twisted the cap around. “I’m usually much smoother.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, your image is totally ruined now.”

  “I’m going to have to fix that,” he rasped. Then he deepened the kiss and I forgot all about his hat.

  After the game, Ryker took me home on his bike. I decided I could get used to this. His body was hard against mine as I held on. Illinois had no helmet laws and since we were relatively close to my apartment, we both forwent wearing one, which allowed me to lean my head against Ryker’s back. His Sox T-shirt was soft against my cheek as the wind tousled my hair.

  Parker was a constant presence in the back of my mind, but I was trying really hard to shove thoughts of him away. There was no earthly reason why I shouldn’t enjoy Ryker’s company and forget all about Parker and all that wasn’t going to happen between us. We’d had a really fun time at the baseball game, and I liked how Ryker made me feel. I’d gone so long with a one-way admiration for Parker, it was as though I’d forgotten what it was like to have a man constantly touching me, giving me compliments, asking me about myself, and looking at me as though he was picturing me naked inside his head.

  Ryker walked me up to my door, but this time I was smart enough not to unlock it. I was honest enough with myself to know I was in a vulnerable state, and sleeping with Ryker tonight would be a lot more about Parker than it would be about Ryker, and that wasn’t fair to him.

  “I have to work tomorrow,” he said, “but I can see you on Sunday.” He was close to me, his hands settling on my hips as I looked up at him. The hall light glinted off his dog tags.

  His blue eyes twinkled into mine, his jaw shadowed with slightly more than a day’s growth of whiskers, giving him that bad-boy look that went so well with the muscles and motorcycle.

  I abruptly decided that Ryker was just what I needed to move on from Parker. There were worse things than a drop-dead gorgeous cop with an attitude matched only by the size of his ego. He may be a player and a cliché who’d lose interest the moment after we had sex, but at least I was going into it with my eyes wide open.

  “What if I have plans Sunday?” I asked.

  “Break them.” He took my wrists and lifted my arms to wrap around his neck, then kissed me.

  It was way easier not to think about Parker with Ryker’s lips on mine. He tasted of beer and salt, his cologne now masked with the scent of sun and sweat from sitting outside at the ball game. And not the nasty kind of man-sweat smell, but the kind that oozes pheromones and is more potent than the most expensive cologne.

  His arms wrapped tight around my waist, drawing me up onto my toes as he kissed me. He was a good kisser and my brain stopped working entirely as I sank deep into the moment. Time passed, but I didn’t notice, until we finally came up for air.

  Usually it took more than a man’s kiss to get me going, but if we’d been inside my apartment I would’ve dragged Ryker to my bed without a second’s hesitation. Now reality crept back in and I was glad we weren’t inside. Sort of.

  “I had a really nice time today,” he said, his voice a husky rasp that shot straight through me. He was looking at me with a promise in his eyes that I sincerely hoped he’d keep come Sunday.

  “Me too,” I said.

  “See you Sunday.” He winked, then eased away to head down the hall, leaving me weak-kneed and propped against my door. I watched as he disappeared into the stairwell, the door slamming shut behind him.

  I was lost in a misty world of daydreams about Sunday as I unlocked my door and walked into my darkened apartment. I stepped out of my flip-flops as I thought. I’d have to clean tomorrow and change the sheets on my bed. Definitely didn’t want to bring Ryker back here since I hadn’t had a chance to clean in a while—

  I screamed.

  A man was sitting on my couch in the dark, the outline of his body seen only because of the glow from outside filtering in through the slats on the blinds. A lamp flicked on, and I could breathe again.

  It was Parker.

  “Oh my God, you scared me,” I said, leaning against the wall. My hands shook and my heart was pounding. “Why the hell would you do that?”

  Parker stood and walked toward me. He still wore his suit jacket, but he’d discarded the tie and undone the top two buttons of his shirt. The look on his face had me swallowing hard and rethinking the wisdom of sassing him earlier on the phone.

  He ignored me, snapping back with a question of his own. “Where’s Ryker? I thought he was keeping you safe.”

  “He left,” I shot back. “Why? Were you going to try to scare him away if he wanted to spend the night?” I loaded up on the sarcasm.

  “I don’t care what you do with him,” he bit out. “But why the hell would you play games with me about this?”

  “Play games about what?” My back was to the wall and he was all up in my business.

  “Play games about your safety,” he retorted. “I’m up to my neck with these people, trying to do what I have to do, and you’re making things more difficult when your job is to make them easier!”

  He was yelling at me, and Parker had never yelled at me. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him this angry before.

  “I didn’t want to go visit my parents—”

  “I don’t give a shit!” He cut me off mid-sentence. “I told you to do something, needed you to do something, and you completely disobeyed me.”

  Tears stung my eye
s at the force of his fury, and if I was honest, I was scared, too. A nerve pulsed in his jaw and his eyes were practically shooting sparks at me. His entire body vibrated with anger.

  “Goddamn it, Sage!” Parker raised his hand to shove his fingers through his hair, but I didn’t know that. I just saw him raise his hand and I reacted, cringing away from him and squeezing my eyes shut.

  I waited, barely breathing and not even thinking. Now I was terrified and heartsick. But nothing happened. After a few moments of standing stock-still, I cautiously opened my eyes. Parker was staring at me, his expression stricken.

  “Good God,” he rasped. “Do you really think I’d hit you?”

  And I promptly burst into tears.

  Parker pulled me into his arms. “Sage. Sage. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  He was trying to comfort me, but all the hurt and fear came pouring out of me, turning me into a blubbering mess, smearing mascara on the lapel of his suit. Again.

  He kept talking, apologizing, his voice a hoarse, tortured whisper in my ear. I barely heard. Tears still poured down my cheeks as I tried to pull myself together.

  “Please stop crying. I’m sorry. I’d never hurt you, you know that.” Parker leaned back, taking my face in his hands to look in my eyes. “Tell me you know that.”

  He swiped at the tear tracks with his thumbs, and when I didn’t answer, he pressed his lips to my cheek, kissing away my tears. First one side, then the other. “I’d never hurt you. I swear it,” he murmured. “And I’d kill anyone who did.”

  It was overwhelming, and such a tremendous relief from how I’d felt just moments earlier, but I barely had time to process what he’d said before he lightly pressed his mouth to mine in a chaste, sweet kiss.

  “Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he whispered against my lips.

  I took a deep, shuddering breath and tentatively kissed him back. Just a tiny movement of my lips against his, but it was as though someone had thrown gasoline onto burning embers. In the next moment, we were kissing feverishly in a tangle of lips, and teeth, and tongues.

  His desperation fed into me and I raked my nails through his hair, clutching him to me. His lips and tongue skated down my neck, sucking at the pulse beating a staccato rhythm underneath my skin. I sucked in air and said his name. His mouth returned to kiss the syllables from my lips.