Tycoon For Auction. Katherine Garbera
a very short time standing barefoot in the sand wearing borrowed clothes. Rand wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.
Her mind ceased functioning and all she could do was breathe in the masculine scent of his aftershave and feel the warmth of his body pressed to hers. His leg was hairy and tickled where it rubbed against hers.
“Here’s the plan,” he said, his words brushing across her skin.
“I can’t hit the ball very hard,” she said.
He smiled at her. It was the kind of smile that people always gave you when you were athletically challenged. “Don’t worry. I can.”
“Tell me what to do.”
“I will.”
“Don’t let this go to your head,” she said.
“How?”
“I’m still in charge.”
“How can I forget it? You bought me, remember?” he asked.
She knew she didn’t want to like him but realized it was too late. He served the ball and the game progressed. She realized that Rand Pearson was the kind of guy that made her wish she still believed in happy endings.
Three
Rand knew Paul had meant for the game to be friendly; the inclusion of the women pretty much said it without words. Angelica, though, was a fierce competitor and Corrine as well rose to the occasion, playing with more spirit than skill. But Rand had never been able to participate in any match and not give it his total concentration.
Even his demons demanded perfection from him. He did everything to the max without worry for the consequences. And sometimes the price he paid was high.
He forgot about winning the first time Corrine flinched, putting her hands up to block the ball instead of hitting it back over the net. But it soon became apparent that Corrine didn’t like to be unsuccessful. She watched Angelica and Paul and found weaknesses in their game that allowed her and Rand to stay even with them.
They’d probably be able to win if he could keep his eyes off her bare legs. It wasn’t as if hers were the first he’d ever seen. But for some reason his eyes kept straying there. And his libido went into overdrive.
The sand was warm beneath his feet and he imagined only the two of them remained on the volleyball court. She was sweaty from the sun and from playing. Her T-shirt clung to her torso like a second skin, revealing all that her neat dress had hidden earlier. He wanted to toss the ball to the ground and pull her close to him. Not to huddle over game strategy but to taste those full lips of hers.
“Rand?” she asked. He imagined her calling his name in a much more intimate situation. Urging him closer to her body, bringing her mouth to his and whispering his name as her lips touched his.
“Rand?”
He glanced up to find Corrine staring at him. He became aware of the ball in his hands and the fact that he was supposed to be serving instead of ogling his teammate’s legs. Damn, she got to him faster than any other woman he’d ever known. The tension that was always his companion settled in the pit of his stomach. It had been a long time since another person had affected him this deeply.
“Yes?” he asked, hoping his reaction to Corrine wasn’t visible to the world. His beach shorts weren’t made to disguise the hardening of his groin. He shifted a little and decided he had to concentrate on the game. The sexual thing he could handle if that were the only draw to Corrine. But the depths he kept glimpsing of this woman’s soul made him wary.
“You okay?” she asked. She’d pushed her sunglasses to her head, and her eyes were serious as she watched him.
Did she suspect where his mind had been? “Fine. I was figuring out the score.”
“Two-two,” she said.
Okay, time to play and forget about the tempting woman whom he didn’t want to like. The woman who’d shared some of her past with him and whom he realized he wanted to know more about. But he’d never ask. Because knowing more meant forming bonds and commitments. He wasn’t a “forever” kind of guy. He couldn’t ask anyone to share the life he lived because it was based on subterfuge.
He served the ball and the game ensued. It was fast and furious, and despite her claim not to be good at sports, Corrine played well. The next serve would determine who won the game.
Rand just couldn’t wait for it to be over so he could hit the shower, preferably a cold one. And try to forget about how Corrine’s shorts had ridden up on the curve of her buttocks as she’d lunged for the ball. She had a sweet, curvy rear that made his fingers tingle with the need to test the resilience of those curves.
“Time out,” Corrine called, and walked to the center of the court. She stood there staring at him. Had she realized his mind wasn’t on the game?
“You tired?” he asked. She was flushed and her eyes seemed exhausted.
She shook her head. “I want to talk to you.”
He waited, but she gestured impatiently for him to join her. Angelica and Paul were huddled together, but it looked as if they were smooching rather than discussing strategy. Part of him hungered for what they had, but Rand quickly pushed it deep down and ignored it as he always did. Having it all came at a high cost and he wasn’t willing to pay the price.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Umm…”
He waited. She didn’t smell sweaty, he realized, but faintly floral and something else that he associated only with Corrine. He’d held her in his arms twice and some things had become imbedded in his senses.
“Were you serious about playing for fun?” she said at last.
Not really, but he knew that coaxing her into the game had been his motivation earlier. Still, he couldn’t tell her how important winning was to him. “Yes, why?”
“Good.” She nibbled her lower lip and he watched. He thought she said something about not caring if they didn’t win, but all he could do was watch her teeth and tongue and her sexy lips and wonder how they’d taste under his. Would she react with the passion he sensed was bottled up inside of her? Or would she be cool like her outer surface image?
“I think we have a good shot at winning,” he said at last.
“What if we didn’t?” she asked.
He realized she was trying to tell him something without saying the words. “I’m not making the connection here, darling. Just tell me what you’re trying to say.”
She shrugged. “I don’t think I should beat my boss.”
“Paul doesn’t care if we win. I’ve played him lots of times at basketball and golf. I usually win,” he said.
“That’s different.”
“How do you figure?” he asked, leaning closer to her.
She tilted her head to the side and then stood on her tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “You don’t work for Paul.”
He ignored the jolt of that went through him. “That’s right, I don’t.”
She pulled back and met his gaze evenly. “You work for me, right?”
He arched one eyebrow. “We both know I do.”
She grimaced at him. “I’d like to see you lose when you do that eyebrow thing.”
“Oh, does it bother you?”
“You can be so annoying when you try.”
“I know. It’s a gift.”
“I don’t like it, Rand.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“Good.