Falling Into Drew (7 page)

Drew stood in the starting gate just as he had hundreds of times over his career, only now no one was timing him. Training and discipline made him automatically rein in his excitement as he visualized the course one last time, stomped his skis to shake off any snow that clung to them, and took a few deep breaths.

Without hesitating, he pushed off and as he gathered speed lowered his body into a racing tuck, adrenalin pumping through his veins. The goal today wasn’t to set any records; he just wanted to have a good time and clear his head, but speed was part of that.

There were no cheering crowds along the course, although even when they’d been there his focus had been so intense that he’d been unaware of anything but his run. Today, the only sounds were made by his skis as their edges sliced through the steep course’s icy particles. He zoomed through the sharp turns, took some air over uneven terrain, and paid no attention to the screaming muscles in his powerful thighs as he maintained the low position that helped his speed. Moments later he crossed the finish line and straightened, snow flying as he turned his skis sideways to stop.

Still holding his poles, he pumped his fists in the air and a loud whoop erupted from his mouth the instant he took off his helmet. Only then, finally, did he hear the applause and shouts. He’d thought he was alone, but evidently word had quickly gotten around that Drew O’Connor was on the downhill course. To skiers, watching him was the same thrill as witnessing Tom Brady throw a tie-breaking touchdown pass or Tiger Woods sink a hole in one.

He lifted his feet out of his ski bindings and bent to hug the young boy who’d been his companion on the lift. Then he happily posed for a selfie with him. Still smiling, he gathered his gear, chatted with a couple of racers he recognized among the spectators, and headed back to the nearby chalet. His thighs protested the flight of stairs he had to climb to the front door and once inside he collapsed into a chair, his face glowing with happiness.

“That you, Drew?” said a groggy Charles as he came downstairs in his boxers, hair sleep-tousled. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed the moment he saw the racing suit on his friend.  “I’m glad that you got down on your own and not lying on a sled with a medic working on you.”

“It’s still such a rush. I love it, especially on a day like this when conditions are perfect and my body does what I ask of it. There was no way I could stop myself from getting out there and the only thing I’m sorry about is that no one timed me. I may have broken my own record.”

Charles walked to the kitchen and started to make coffee. “The knees are okay?”

“For now, although I’m sure my body’s going to hurt like a bitch later, but it was worth it.” He sat up and slid the racing suit’s zipper down. “I better get out of this and into a hot shower.”  When he reached the stairs he turned toward his friend. “Are there any ladies upstairs or can I strip off on my way to the bathroom?”

“That would be a treat for them, but the so-called ladies left right after the blow jobs and fucking were over.”

Drew guessed there was more and waited.

“You’re right about Inga. That woman does things with her mouth that my cock will never forget. For a while I thought she intended to suck it right off my body!”

“You might want to ice it.”

“Nah, I’m good. Go take your shower. You’re due at the broadcast booth at eleven.”

As he soaped his body, Drew’s high settled and his mind went to Kate. He wished she’d been there, seen what made him who he was, not to impress her, but so she could help him describe it in that book of hers.  He’d never be able to capture that feeling in words.

His cock stirred and hardened and his hand went to it as he pictured her face, the way her golden brown eyes sparkled, the way her full lips parted, the way his lips felt against hers, the way her walls throbbed around his cock when she came. He leaned against the tile and gritted his teeth as his orgasm approached and ribbons of semen pulsed onto the shower’s opposite wall. “What’s happening to me?” he wondered as he slowly sank to the floor.

Chapter 11

Kate took her place at the long conference table and tried to get comfortable. She crossed her legs first one way and then another, flipped through her notes, pushed her hair off her face, adjusted the sleeves on her black cashmere sweater, and twirled a gold bangle bracelet around her wrist.

These weekly pitch meetings were routine, yet she’d never felt so nervous about presenting a project. Maybe the other editors wouldn’t think Drew’s book was “right” for them or that it didn’t balance out the list of already contracted projects. Very few autobiographies made it past this group and those that did tended to be more serious, not about some celebrity and Drew definitely fit that category. Plus, he still hadn’t agreed to do it. She couldn’t tell this group he was on board, since if they were enthusiastic and it turned out that he wasn’t, she could kiss her job good-bye. Hell, she didn’t even know if he could write. Yet from all the potential books that she’d considered, his was the one she wanted to take on. Their personal relationship was a conflict of interest, but somehow she didn’t care.

Kate barely listened as one editor after another reported on the status of works in progress and tried to sell the group on new acquisitions. When the senior editor chairing the meeting called her name for the second time, she jerked her head up.

Ed Harper lowered his round tortoise shell glasses with one finger and looked her way. “Nice of you to join us, Ms. Porter.” If there ever were an illustration of a middle-aged preppy, he would be it, complete with a blue oxford cloth shirt, striped tie, tweed sport coat, tan trousers and tasseled loafers. He had a perpetual tan and wore his thick, dark blonde hair parted on the side. It never looked like he’d had a fresh haircut since he visited the barber weekly. A lot of effort went into looking effortless.

“Kate, the rumor mill is buzzing about whatever you’ve got in the pipeline because of a visit from a certain very recognizable someone. I’m anxious to know what you’re working on.”

Besides Harper, the room was filled with other editors, publicity, marketing, and sales directors whose opinions would be part of any decision.

Kate cleared her throat and folded her hands together so no one could see them tremble. She filled her lungs with air and slowly exhaled, the adrenalin rush similar to the one Drew had experienced at the top of the mountain. “You’ve heard, I’m sure, that Drew O’Connor was in our offices last week. For those of you who don’t follow sports, he won a couple of Olympic gold medals in the downhill and holds many, many World Cup titles. Since retiring, he’s become something of a celebrity along the lines of Nacho Figueras, the Argentine polo player who’s the face of Ralph Lauren. Suffice it to say he’s very recognizable. His agent almost has O’Connor convinced that he should write his autobiography. I made it clear that this would only work for us if he revealed more information about his life than is already out there.  Since he’s at a ski race in Austria this week, I need more time to determine if he’s on board. Should I continue to pursue this?”

The publicity and marketing people’s enthusiasm was boundless since television, radio, print and online media would do battle over who could get him first. Foreign and film rights were also discussed.

“Drew O’Connor would make our job easy, since the press loves him,” said the head of publicity. “Hell, he’s been all over the Internet this week just for being mauled by a stunning blonde at some ski event. Her hand was resting on his...well, you can imagine.”

Kate’s face paled. A gorgeous blonde? Of course, just his type. Why should she be surprised? That was the real Drew, not the fantasy man she’d slept with, the man who seemed to feel something for her. She reached for a bottle of water, but put her hands in her lap when they began to shake. She hoped no one else had noticed her reaction.

Editorial weighed in last. Their go-ahead on the project came with a warning. Kate would have to lock this down fast so that Drew’s agent didn’t approach other publishers and start a bidding war.

She called herself an idiot for the unprofessional way she’d handled or, more likely, mishandled, this. She should never have slept with a womanizer like Drew. If he didn’t do the book or went with another publisher, not only would all the people in this room be disappointed, her reputation in the industry would also take a dive. Her work was cut out for her.

The morning after their one amazing night together, Drew had entered his cell number into Kate’s phone, then pressed his body against hers to kiss her senseless. He told her he was leaving for Europe the next day to work at a major ski event. A week later, he hadn’t called, texted or even emailed and the tabloid pictures of the ski bunny stroking his cock explained why. He may have had to work, but he’d had enough time to fuck
fräuleins
.

Kate kicked off her shoes and paced from one side of her office to the other as she debated how to handle what she’d titled
The Drew Problem.
It would be too humiliating to call him, yet for the sake of her career, she had to get an answer about the book. She blamed herself for blurring the line between her work and private life, but her body had battled her mind until she gave up the fight. She knew better than to expose her emotions to a man like him, but that night had been worth the risk — except for the shitty way she felt now.

“Damn him,” she muttered and pounded a fist on her desk. The editorial board would expect an answer before next week’s meeting and there was only one way to get it — by talking to the author, but she refused to call Drew. She rested her head on the desk and closed her eyes to think.

“That’s it!” She looked heavenward and smiled with relief.  Charles would be the perfect intermediary. He could push Drew for an answer since she was sure the bastard had already forgotten all about her. Besides, she’d been attracted to Drew’s handsome agent. He was easy to be with and didn’t unnerve her the same way Drew’s rock star fame did.

She flipped through the stack of business cards on her desk until she found Charles Morrison’s. A quick search turned up the international code for Austria and she placed the call.

“Kate! Great to hear from you.” Charles’ voice was loud enough for Drew to know who’d called. He wandered across the chalet’s oversized living room and stood, waiting for the phone to be passed to him. He tapped his foot impatiently, but Charles ignored him and continued to talk.

Based on the “uh huhs,” “okays” and “sures” and the smile on Charles’ face, it was clear that Kate was doing most of the talking until his friend said, “Are you sure? I’d love to. Yes, see you soon,” and then disconnected.

“Why didn’t you give me the phone? Didn’t she want to talk to me?”

“No, she didn’t,” Charles said. “The only mention of you was when she said that you must be very happy that the locals have greeted you in such an extremely friendly way. She emphasized ‘extremely.’”

“Shit. That means that she saw those pictures of Inga’s hand on my cock.” Drew pounded the table and glared at Charles. “It was stupid to think she wouldn’t. Is that why she called, to let me know she’s pissed?”

“I’d say so since you were not included in the invitation to have dinner at her apartment when we get back. Maybe after sleeping with you she’s declared me the real winner.”

“There’s no competition for this woman. I told you, she’s mine.”

“It didn’t sound that way when she was talking to me. She doesn’t seem like someone who tolerates cheating and you, friend, are in deep shit.”

“Fuck off,” Drew said, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator. He swallowed half of it and put the bottle down with a bang, then turned to his best friend. “We’ve never allowed a woman to mess up our friendship. I’m really into her for some reason, but if she’s done with me and picks you...” He didn’t finish the sentence.

“She may like me, but in the two times we’ve met, she never looked at me the way she looked at you. “

“Okay, so…”

Charles stretched an arm to squeeze Drew’s shoulder. “She wasn’t asking me on a date. She needs an answer about your book. I’m guessing you haven’t called her or she would have gotten the answer from you. And maybe she wanted to pay you back for that photo and make you jealous.”

“Well, she succeeded because if a woman is cooking for you at her place, it’s personal, not business. I don’t like it.” He rubbed the back of his neck then raised his thumb to his mouth and gnawed on the nail. As a child, he’d sucked his thumb until he was old enough to realize that he had to hide the comforting habit, but when stressed the digit still was likely to find its way to his mouth. “Are you going?”

“Hell, yeah. You heard me tell her I would.”

“Then I’ll come too. If it’s about this pain in the ass book, then it’s about me. I should be there.” He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I really screwed up by not calling her this week, especially after that picture came out. Shit!”

“I’m sorry, man. The bitch probably staged the whole thing to get back at you for something.”

“I told myself not to involve Kate in my fucked up life.” He released a breath. “She’s the kind of woman you date and I haven’t exactly had a lot of practice with that.”

“Dating? You? That would be something to see,” Charles said and laughed. “My bet is she won’t be happy if you show up at her dinner uninvited, but if you insist on going, you better be ready to a give her a final answer about this book.”

Drew bristled at his friend’s needling. “Stop pushing me.” Drew put his hand on his stomach when it growled. “Let’s get something to eat. I’ve got an idea about how this can work.”