Bring The Heat: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Bad Boys of Summer Book 1) (13 page)

“Then what are you doing here?” I asked, releasing her wrist in a flinging motion once I realized I was still grasping it. “Why are you with the team? Why are you in this locker room? Why are you even talking to me if I’m such a piece of shit?”

Her eyes flashed, more angry than sentimental. “Because I’m still in love with you.”

“No, you’re not.” I pulled my shirt on, suddenly feeling too exposed. “You’re not in love with me, Summer. You’re in love with the fame and fortune that comes with what I’m doing. You wanted to be a baller’s wife since day-fuckin’-one. Don’t you think I saw through you from the beginning? You picked me like some old geezer picks a fuckin’ race horse at the track. You looked around the campus and watched all of the athletes, studied us like we were fuckin’ animals trained to perform, and then you latched onto me. You wanted to be with me, marry me, have my kids. Maybe you loved me then, but that was after the fact. A side effect, not the reason you wanted me.”

“Cody—”

I held up a hand, silencing her. “No. I’m not going to listen to this. I’m sorry I hurt you all those years ago. I am. But it’s been a long time. I’ve moved on and so should you.”

I pushed past her. “Go home, Summer.”

“This isn’t about money, or fame, Cody!” Her footsteps came after me and I stopped near the door. I rounded on her. “I already told you who I’m with now. Willis is more wealthy than you’ll ever be. He gives me everything I want. I bat my eyes and it appears. It’s easy. But that’s my whole point…it doesn’t matter to me because I want to be with you. I want what we had.”

“Then go find it with someone else. We have burned too many bridges to ever go back to the way it was before.”

Her eyes filled with glossy tears. “We can fix it…”

“I’m seeing someone else, Summer. I’m happy. I don’t wish you ill will, but you need to leave me alone.”

“You’re seeing someone?” She genuinely seemed shocked by the statement. “Like, dating?”

I set my jaw and gave a firm nod. “Yes.”

She folded her arms. “That’s not what I heard…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Before I came here, I did a little digging. You have a certain reputation…and it’s not the kind that makes me think you’re telling me the truth right now. Everyone I talked to said you don’t date. You use women to get your rocks off and then never call them again. From what I can tell, you haven’t had anything meaningful since me.”

It shouldn’t have surprised me that she’d done her homework. That was classic Summer. Smart, ambitious, and ruthless when necessary.

“It’s new.”

“And made up,” she fired back without blinking.

My fists went tight. “Her name is Chelsea and she’s very real. She’ll be sitting in my section at the next game. You’ll be there next to your boyfriend-a-
saurus
. See if I’m lying.”

I whipped around and stalked from the room. “Leave me alone, Summer. This conversation is done.”

She didn’t follow after me this time, but as I ducked into the hall that led out of the stadium, a sinking feeling settled into the pit of my stomach, and I knew that while the conversation was done—the situation was only just beginning.

Chelsea

“And so, I present to you, Lucky the clown fish’s next big adventure! Pause for music…” I waited a beat, and then flourished with my arms at the crescendo of the “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” theme. “Lucky Plays Fishball!”

The fish didn’t seem interested. It was times like these that I needed a dog. At least they would have the decency to look at me while I held mock up presentations.

I sighed and set my laser pointer on the coffee table. I took a step back and considered the oversize poster board I’d patched together with finalized versions of the sketches and drawings I’d started a week earlier. I had four days left until my big presentation and the nerves were already gripping a hold of me and making it hard to think about anything that wasn’t related to the game.

Which was good, because if I slowed down, I’d remember that it had already been a week since Cody called and I’d shot down his offer for a date. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d hung up the phone and knew—or thought I did—that within a few days’ time, I’d get a call for his second—or was it third? —attempt at talking me into going out with him.

But so far, crickets.

Paris thought I should call him. I’d shot that idea down hard, hoping to finally get my point across to her.

And hell, in the meantime, I’d got a lot of work done. So it had all worked out just fine.

I went through my speech once more and then put everything away, my brain too fried from a day at the computer to try one more time. I had four days to get it right. There was plenty of time. I went upstairs and started to change out of my business attire—I found it easier to practice presentations and take myself seriously when I wasn’t in yoga pants with three days’ worth of oily hair. I stripped the navy blazer and was working on removing my matching slacks when the doorbell rang.

“Pizza time!” I grinned. I glanced down at myself, figured I was decent even though my bra was peeking out from under my camisole, and went down the stairs. “I’m coming!” I shouted, snagging my purse from the table off to the side of the front door before throwing it open. “Coming!”

I drew in a sharp breath. The man on the porch wasn’t holding a pizza. He was holding a bottle of wine and a bouquet of red and white roses. And a signature grin that made me want to roll my eyes and melt into a puddle all at the same time.

“Normally, I have to work a little harder to get an ‘I’m coming’ but hell, it’s cool if you started the party without me too, sugar.”

I fought off the twinges of heat shooting between my legs at the growl of his voice, and blew out the breath I was holding in an exasperated sigh. “Cody…what are you doing here?”

He flashed another devastating smile. “I came to take you out to dinner. This is for after,” he said, holding up the bottle of wine.

I took it and gawked at the vintage. It was a pricey bottle. “No, no, here, take it back. We’re not doing this,” I said, each refusal painful to say. For the past week every spare moment in between work was devoted to missing him. Now, he was on my doorstep and I wanted—needed—him gone again.

It was enough to make my head feel like it was spinning.

“Chelsea, come on, please,” he said, his voice low.

Please? Since when does Cody Wright say please?

“All right, come on in.”

He entered the foyer and I glanced over at him just in time to catch his eyes lingering on the backside of my form fitted slacks. I flushed at the look in his eyes. Damn it!

“I gotta say, baby, I’m not understanding your getup. Where are you going?”

I glanced down, my cheeks warming another ten degrees at the lacy bits of my bra poking out from under the shiny camisole. “I was—” I stopped short, wondering how crazy it was going to sound when I told him what I was actually doing.

He glanced past me and his eyes landed on the presentation board. “Oh! You were rehearsing.”

So maybe it wasn’t that weird…that’s a relief.

Not that I cared what he thought anyway.

Right.

“I have to present to the investors in a few days so I was practicing my pitch. I find it helps to dress the part…” I added, glancing down at myself.

He cocked a grin. “Well, if you want my advice, lose the jacket in the first five minutes and you’ll have them all hooked.” He turned toward the fish tank. “Sorry guys, poor choice of words.”

I giggled at his finger waggle at my fish. “Don’t worry about them. Hell, I eat sushi in here sometimes.”

Cody grimaced. “Sadist.”

I laughed and nodded. “It is pretty sick.”

“You wanna go out for some tonight? Ya know, out of sight of your slippery roomies over here.”

“I actually have a—”

The doorbell rang.

“A pizza.”

“Aha. Living it up without me. Good thing I brought a bottle of red. Why don’t you stick that in the fridge? I’ll get the pie.” He reached behind him and fished out a battered looking leather wallet.

“Oh, no! I couldn’t—”

“Chels, chill. I got it.”

He started back to the door before I could stop him. I shook my head, wondering how he managed to always swoop in and dominate a situation with hardly any effort. A few well timed, sexy grins, dark looks and I was freakin’ putty in his hands.

I stashed the wine in the back of the fridge to get it chilled and then poured two glasses of iced tea. I added a couple of lemon slices and carried them back into the living room just as Cody was bringing in the pizza box.

He glanced up at me and smirked. “I think your pizza boy was bummed to find out you have a boyfriend. He nearly shit a brick when I opened the door.”

“He probably wasn’t expecting to see Cody Wright answer the door,” I argued, glossing over that boyfriend comment. For the time being.

Cody shook his head. “Nah, he wanted to see
you
answer the door, looking like that.”

I froze in place, captured in his intent gaze. “Plates!” I said, ambling to get back to the safety of the kitchen. I exhaled slowly at the cabinet and pulled out two plates. “Keep it together, Chels. He’s just a guy…”

Right.

That was a load of bullshit and I knew it.

I took the plates out to the living room, passed them off to Cody, and then backed up for the base of the stairs. “I’m going to go get redressed…or changed…”

Cody smirked up at me as I started to ascend the stairs. “If my vote counts for anything, I’d prefer undressed.”

“Good thing it doesn’t,” I replied, shaking my head.

I got to my room, shut—and locked—the door and tore out of my camisole. I shucked off the slacks and my square toed flats. “Look like a fucking librarian,” I said, kicking off the last shoe. “Better than a stripper,” I added, catching a glance of my lacey bra in the mirror. What would happen if I just went down there like this? I blinked. I knew exactly what would happen. And that idea sent a new flood of heat through me.

“Okay, Chels, nothing has to happen. If you don’t want it—” I snorted.

Right. Again.

I contemplated changing to a nude t-shirt bra and a pair of cotton briefs that couldn’t possibly be considered sexy, but at the last minute, ditched the bra altogether, pulled on an athletic top with a built in bra and a pair of black leggings. I piled my hair up into a messy bun and applied a layer of clear lip gloss. There. Basic. Nothing to see. I wasn’t trying too hard.

Perfect.

I jogged back down the stairs and watched Cody’s eyes as they went down my body and then back up. “Damn, woman. How do you make me so fuckin’ hard just looking at you?”

Okay, so that plan didn’t go as expected.

“I think you’re hard from the time you wake up to the time you go to sleep. Of course, that’s mostly because you’re so into yourself.”

Cody laughed but slapped a hand to his chest like I’d stabbed him through the heart. “Ouch!”

“You’re fine.” I slapped his thigh to get him to drop his feet from my coffee table and then took a spot on the couch beside him. Close enough to reach the box of pizza but not too close to where we would brush elbows. Cody grinned at me and crossed one ankle to the opposite knee. He balanced his plate in the nest it created and I saw he’d already piled half the pizza onto his plate. “Hungry?” I asked, throwing my chin at the direction of his plate.

He grinned. “Carb loading. I’m planning on burning some serious calories tonight.”

I rolled my eyes. “You going to the gym after this?”

He laughed and took a bite off his first slice. “You love this. Admit it. The banter and the insults. It’s fun.”

“Is that why you’re here? To argue with me and get me all riled up?”

“Riled up, yes. Arguments could be skipped unless they lead to crazy, hot make up sex on the staircase or something.”

“Not gonna happen. You can share my pizza and we can have a glass of wine but that’s it. This isn’t a date.”

“Hmm. I brought flowers, wine, we’re alone and eating dinner. Kinda
feels
like a date to me.”

“I didn’t accept the flowers. The wine was a gift. And I didn’t invite you to dinner. You invited yourself. So, if anything, this is a pity date.”

“Damn. Cold, baby. Very cold.”

I glanced over my shoulder and spotted the roses in a vase on the dining room table. “Oh, how nice, you raided my closet to find a vase.”

He laughed. “Yeah, top secret stuff. Spatulas, measuring cups, and cookie sheets, oh my! Scandal!”

I shoved his arm making him miss his next bite. “Don’t be a jerk.”

“It’s kinda my thing.” He shrugged and then stuffed the rest of the slice in his mouth.

“Why is that?” I asked, leaning back and angling my body towards his.

“What do you mean?” he asked once he swallowed and washed it down with a swig of iced tea.

“Why play the jerk all the time? I have this inkling, and hey, maybe it’s way off base, but I think there’s a better version of you somewhere in there,” I said, leveling my finger at his chest.

He worked his jaw for a minute. “Being the loud mouthed jerk is easier than being who I really am.”

“Why’s that?” I leaned forward, prepared to hang on his every word. The energy in the room had shifted and I was wrapped up in Cody once again. This time for a completely different reason.

Cody set his plate down and wiped his fingers on one of the napkins that the delivery boy had dropped off with the box of pizza. “You really want to talk about this? I can find things that are a lot more fun.”

“I really want to know, Cody. Please.”

He glanced away and then dragged his eyes back to mine. “I’m the jerk because it makes it easier to let shit roll off of me. My dad was a pro baseball player too. I grew up in this world. I’ve seen the inside, the guts of this industry, and if I can tell you one thing—the less you give a shit, the better off you’ll be.” He paused, and glanced down at his hands. When he brought his eyes back up to mine, they were dark, like emeralds set ablaze. “No one can hurt you if you don’t give a shit. If you let on like the whole thing is a joke, then people leave you alone after a while because they know they can’t get under your skin.”