Crazy for You Page 5

  “Got it.” She flashed him a shy smile and reached for the sauce.

  Soft, pert breasts brushed his arms. A zap of electricity heated his body, and his heart punched through his chest. After turning the stove on low, he shifted to face her.

  She licked her lips. Jake’s eyes zeroed in on the target, her mouth. Crowding her space, he leaned down, cupped the back of her head, and descended until he crushed his lips against her softness. So damn sweet. A forbidden fruit he was all too happy to sample. And he did, lick by delicious lick until they were both breathless.

  The bottle slipped from her hands and toppled on the floor. Charlotte jumped away and touched her bruised lips. Lips he’d thoroughly kissed, if her pink-tinged cheeks were any indication.

  She cleared her throat. “I d-don’t think . . . we shouldn’t have done that.”

  Sucking in his breath, he stilled as if concrete blocks weighted down his shoes. He could damn near taste the confusion permeating the air. Fighting his instincts to dominate and claim, he slowed his breathing. Not that it did any damn good. If it were possible, he would still his heartbeat, still the adrenaline that surged through his body, and still the blood that rushed through his veins. He yearned to hold onto the warmth and intimacy she’d offered.

  The loss of her warmth made him shiver. And dammit, he was tired of being cold.

  His shy trainee picked up the bottle and put it on the counter before backing out of the kitchen.

  Pulling in a deep breath, he uselessly attempted to calm the rush of blood funneling to his other head. If I keep this up, I’m gonna have a permanent zipper imprint.

  “Come back in here. We made out. Sometimes we’ll have to do that for the camera. No big deal.” He shrugged.

  “S-so. That was pretend? Like practice?”

  “Yep,” he lied and it tasted like soot on his tongue.

  She nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. As long as it’s pretend. I don’t want there to be any confusion.” Her voice sounded off-pitch, weird. Like she was convincing herself of something. He wasn’t the only liar in the room.

  “We’re on the same page.”

  Quiet as a church mouse, she returned and leaned against the opposite end of the counter.

  Focusing on cooking, he tapped the spatula against the wok and then poured Sriracha over the chicken. She’s putting distance between us. Not a bad idea. He needed to keep his head in the game. Get the deal and, after a few respectable weeks—two weeks, tops—end their fake relationship. Jake had held up his end of the bargain. She’d lost weight and looked damn good too. No doubt she would easily find a real boyfriend to replace him. Someone worthy of her. His stomach churned.

  Mark would no doubt spin some bullshit about them respecting each other, but being better off as friends. Then he’d need to cool his heels for a month and, after his time was up, console himself in the arms of a beautiful woman.

  Damn. He couldn’t even get himself excited at the prospect.

  A sweet sigh interrupted his thoughts. One that had him imagining silken sheets and soft skin and luscious thighs wrapped around his waist.

  “What’s up?” He didn’t turn around. He didn’t want to tempt himself with the cute pout that she would, no doubt, have on her face.

  “Are we watching Jessica Jones tonight?”

  “Is that actually a question? Fire up Netflix. I’ll plate our food.”

  “Okay,” her soft and eager voice answered.

  After fixing their plates, he hurried into the living room. Typically, he would set the formal dining room as his mother and grandmother had drilled into his head. But after Charlotte had introduced him to the action-packed show, they’d become hooked on watching it during dinner.

  She squirmed, seated as far as possible on the other end of the couch. Spooked like a horse in a barnyard fire, she smoothed her hands over her Lycra-clad legs, nibbling her plump bottom lip and darting her attention from the jazz art on the wall to the blank TV screen.

  “I’m starting to develop a complex.”

  Charlotte’s attention darted back to him. “What do you mean?” She grabbed the plate he proffered and placed it on the table.

  “Why do you always sit on the far end of the couch?”

  She shrugged, stared at her lap, and then resumed rubbing the shiny material around her delectable thighs.

  “Wow, angel. I haven’t felt this rejected since I was twelve years old and my next door neighbor stood me up for the Valentine’s Day dance.” He sat in the middle seat, next to her.

  Charlotte’s head jerked. “Someone was dumb enough to stand you up?”

  “Yeah, I told you I wasn’t always the ladies’ man that you know and love today.”

  “So when did you turn into a ladies’ man?” Her eyes gleamed with interest. Yes! She hadn’t scooted further away.

  “Right after middle school. I started running the summer before my freshman year. I wanted to make the varsity baseball team and knew I needed to get into shape to do it. I was also blessed with a growth spurt that summer and begged my dad to get me contacts. All of a sudden, I’m the “It” guy in high school. All the guys wanted to be my friends, all the girls wanted to screw . . . ” He cleared his throat. “I mean, date me.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to censor yourself around me, Jacob.”

  “I know. But you’re a lady, and you deserve respect.” He dipped his wrap into the sauce.

  “How did it make you feel?”

  He lifted his finger for time to chew and swallow. “How did what make me feel?”

  Grabbing her plate, she tucked a leg under the other. “How did going from being a . . . a . . . ”

  “I think the word you’re searching for is ‘reject’.”

  “No, never.” She shook her head vehemently. “I mean, how did it feel to become popular, practically overnight?”

  Jake remembered the jocks suddenly giving him pats on the back in the hallways, and the girls sneaking letters into his locker, giving him sly looks and whispering all the things they’d do for him, to him. “It was . . . weird. Overwhelming at first. I tried to keep my old friends from middle school, but they didn’t seem to want to hang out with me anymore. I don’t blame them. I became friends with the guys who would pick us last in gym class. Well, with the exception of baseball for me. The guys that would crack jokes or pretend we didn’t exist. So, I guess I didn’t like it at first.”

  “And the girls?”

  “That was overwhelming, too. I had no idea what I was doing, and I was way over my head. But then cockiness and hormones took over, and I quickly got over my fear.”

  “Fear? Of what?”

  “Of people finding out who I really am. Just an anime, video game, math-loving geek whose idea of a good time is dressing up as my favorite character at Comic-Con.”

  He plucked another piece of lettuce from the plate and piled on chicken. “And then . . . well, people saw the outside and assumed the kind of guy I was. Hell, even teachers didn’t take me seriously. If I turned in a paper that was stellar, they assumed someone else had completed the assignment. I guess I just became what everyone believed I was. But you know that ad campaign that I did for Nathan and Tiana’s company? The one about the many faces of Jake Ross?”

  “Yeah, I remember. I was at one of the shoots, shadowing Tiana and Nathan. Was all that stuff about you being a nerd true? I loved the concept but assumed it was scripted.”

  “Yeah. You and a million other people. I loved those commercials. I was proud because, for the first time in over a decade, I was actually myself.”

  Scooting closer, she rubbed his thigh. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? You didn’t do anything.”

  “Yes, I did. I’m no better than your classmates. I made assumptions about who you are and I . . . ” She squeezed her eyes shut and licked her lips. Her eyelids fluttered open, and big, brown, earnest eyes filled with determination. But on the edges, a hint of apprehension
lingered. “You’re . . . you know that you’re a good-looking guy. But until we started hanging out, I just saw the surface. You’re so much more than the shell God gave you. I wish people could see how beautiful you truly are.”

  Clasping her cheek, he zeroed in on those gorgeous lips. He wanted to bite and suck. Fuck it. I’m going for it.

  Bzzzz!

  His cell phone vibrated on the table. Charlotte jumped away, mumbling something about Jessica Jones. He looked down at his screen and saw a text from his brother D’Mario.

  MA AND GRANDMA ETTA HAVE BEEN COMPLAINING ABOUT NOT MEETING YOUR NEW GIRLFRIEND. EXPECT A CALL FROM THEM SOON. PROBABLY TONIGHT.

  Damn. He didn’t need his family getting involved with anything right now. He hated to lie to them, but no way was he going to try to explain to his eighty-seven-year-old grandmother that he and Charlotte were in a fake relationship because he wanted to get a multimillion-dollar deal. Even if it meant buying his parents and siblings a house. Grandma Etta would demand he pick out a thin branch or, as she called it, a switch from outside and let her swat him across his ass.

  He texted thanks to his brother and focused back on Charlotte, who was once again seated on the far end of the couch. “That complex I mentioned earlier? It’s getting worse. Why don’t you want to sit beside me?”

  Her eyes were wary. “Because I think we’ve done enough practicing for tonight.” She sagged her shoulders. “And I probably stink. I did a quick wash off in the locker room, but not a full shower.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to wait for me. I know how you get antsy about someone harassing you for an autograph.”

  Damn, she’s sweet. All of his ex-hookups would’ve loved the exposure. “You’re worth the wait. You know what? You could take a shower here.” He could feel himself getting hard, imagining her soapy and wet.

  “No, no.” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Proper?” Moving in closer, he gripped her waist and whispered, “Take off the halo and have a little fun with me.”

  The look in her eyes wasn’t the brush-off he expected. No, it was something else entirely that dared him to move his grip lower and then squeeze and spank the tight, round object of his obsession.

  Hunger, longing, and passion burned in those big brown eyes. A flash of pink teased him when she licked her lips—another thing that haunted his dreams. A shaky hand slid up his chest. His heartbeat ramped up and sped under her touch. This time, I won’t pretend this is for practice.

  The Star Trek theme blasted from his phone, rattling the side table.

  Dammit!

  The hand that had so lovingly stroked his chest now pushed him away. “You should get that.”

  Reaching over without looking, he pressed the button to silence the cock-blocking device. “So you’ll bring your stuff over to shower?” He needed a small victory, a consolation prize after the loss of her lush body flush against his.

  She tucked a loose bang behind her ear. “Okay. Next time I’ll bring my shower stuff and some extra clothes.”

  He wanted to chuck his phone out the window but instead grabbed the cell from the table. Thirty more seconds, and he could’ve had her on her back, pulling him close and not pushing him away. He looked down at the screen and saw “Mom” on the missed call list. Damn, she’s starting already.

  He sighed. “That was my mom, which brings me to our next order of business. First, eat your food before it gets cold.” He nodded to her plate on the table. “Second, we need to talk about my family.”

  “We do?” Her hands froze midway through rolling the piece of lettuce.

  “Yes, we do. Go ahead and eat.” He waited until she finished the wrap. “My brother just gave me the heads up that my mom and grandmother want to meet you. I think it would be best if we flew down to Alabama instead of them coming to New York. Less risk of paparazzi, and I can see my nieces and nephews.”

  “But don’t you want us to be in front of the media? You know, for the sponsorship deal?”

  “Yes, but I’d rather not have my family around the media. The kids still aren’t used to it. We can take a few photos, and have Mark send a few pics out to the press.”

  Charlotte nodded. “That could work.”

  “So does that mean you’ll come with me?”

  “I-I guess. Where would I stay? What part of Alabama are you from?”

  “Eat.” He waved to her plate again.

  She rolled her eyes and complied.

  “We’ll stay at my parents’ house. My grandmother lives there as well. It’s more eyes, but you’ll have your own room, and I’ll be on the couch since my mother and father won’t let us sleep together until we’re married. I mean . . . n-not that it’s going to happen.” I’m not turning in my player card anytime soon.

  Charlotte nodded as she bit into another wrap. “Right,” she whispered.

  “Oh, and I’m from Mobile.”

  “Are you serious?” Her voice garbled a bit from the lettuce wrap in her mouth.

  He laughed. “Chew and swallow, Charlotte. I can’t hear you.”

  “First, you force me to eat. Now, you force me to speak.” She huffed. “I’m from Pensacola, Florida. We’re practically neighbors.”

  “That’s cool. We can swing by and visit your folks, too.”

  Grabbing her water, she gulped it down. “Yeah, I’ll see . . . if . . . they’re . . . around . . . ”

  Is she hiding something? He didn’t like that. But instead of giving her the third degree, he let it lie. “So are you okay with the plan? We could leave on Friday evening and return on Sunday.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  He was suddenly excited at the prospect of Charlotte meeting his family. They would love her. He could see his grandmother sharing family recipes and his mom going shopping with her. Charlotte would most likely spoil his nieces and nephews, and they would adore her, too.

  Slow down, Ross. She’s not your girl. This time, he did the moving away. Maybe having some space between them wasn’t a bad thing. He was the bad boy of baseball. He loved women and they loved him. He wasn’t ready for anything serious.

  Chapter Six

  Charlotte was in love . . . with Jake’s family. The moment they’d entered his parents’ four-bedroom, ranch-style home, everyone had been welcoming and gracious. From the way his family teased him, she almost forgot he was a millionaire baseball player.

  Grandma Etta, her favorite family member at the moment—she switched favorite family members every ten minutes—was hilarious.

  The eighty-seven-year-old woman was the first person to rush out to greet them. The walking cane seemed to hinder rather than assist her descending the three front-porch steps. Smiling, Jake had opened his arms for her to rush into, but his smile quickly disappeared when Grandma Etta had given Charlotte a hug first. The matriarch kissed her cheek and not-so-quietly whispered, “Thank God for you. I thought JR was gonna come home with one of those fast-looking models.”

  He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Like I’ve told you time and time again, just because they’re models doesn’t mean they’re fast.”

  Grandma Etta jerked back her head and, somehow, the curls that formed a white halo around her head didn’t move an inch. “Ha! You hear that, Theresa?” she yelled into the house. “The last one didn’t have a stitch of clothes on. Lord, I thought she was gonna catch old and new-monia.”

  Now, Charlotte, Jake, his dad, and his grandmother sat around the kitchen table while Jake’s mother Theresa stirred a pot of gumbo and fried corn bread.

  Gerald, Jake’s father, plopped two cups with ice in front of her. “We need you to settle an argument, Ms. Charlotte.” He turned around and grabbed two glass pitchers from the granite countertops. “Mama Etta and I have a long-standing competition on who has the best sweet tea.”

  Oh, no.

  Jake, seated next to her, squeezed her shoulders. “Sorry, angel. Both sets of my grandparent
s grew up together and have been in competition for decades. Since my dad is the next generation, he feels it’s up to him to uphold the Ross family feud.”

  Gerald poured tea into both glasses and then waved his hand toward the drinks. “Go ahead. Don’t be shy.”

  Charlotte averted her gaze from the drinks to Jake. “Do something!” she hissed under her breath.

  His deep laugh reverberated in her belly. The sexy sound would’ve usually given her a quiver elsewhere, but her attention was occupied by the Hatfield and McCoy Tea Feud. “C’mon, Dad. We just got here,” Jake half-heartedly argued.

  Hands folded over her chest, Mama Etta reclined in her chair and nodded toward the drinks. “You’re not diabetic, now, are you, sweetie?”

  The pace of her heartbeat sped. Do they know? “Ummm . . . w-why do you ask?”

  “Wouldn’t want Gerald to send somebody else into a diabetic coma.”

  “Oh, goodness,” Charlotte whispered under her breath. She didn’t want to be outed for her prediabetes by overly sweet tea. She hadn’t told anyone about her condition and had no plans to do so. She didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her or treat her differently, especially since she’d planned to get better. I’ll sneak off and check my blood sugar after we eat.

  Gerald stroked his snow-white goatee. “You didn’t mistake the salt for the sugar again, did ya, Mama Etta? We wouldn’t want to repeat the mix-up you had back in ninety-nine when you spiked Sheila’s blood pressure.”

  Jake patted and squeezed her thigh. She looked down at her jumping knee, then jerked her head back to him. She stopped her nervous tic and gave him a smile. Well, she tried to, but the effort was more like a kid being forced to smile on school picture day.

  “Oh, Lord.” Theresa shook her salt-and-pepper curls, thumped the wooden spoon against the pot, and then pointed it like a weapon at the dueling duo. “Why can’t we ever have a nice family dinner? I thought I told both of you to not harass Charlotte. Lord knows JR has never, ever brought a nice girl home, and here you both go, trying to scare her off.” She shook her head again and returned to stirring the pot, mumbling under her breath.