Crazy for You Read online

  She hadn’t seen Jake in nearly a week. Dodging his calls, she worked out at the Refurbished Dreams gym when she knew he wasn’t on the schedule to volunteer.

  “Now I’m really starting to get a complex.”

  She nearly tripped over the sexy voice that haunted her dreams. He’s here? Someone must’ve told him. Lowering the speed on the treadmill’s dashboard, she slowed her pace and turned to face him. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

  “What am I . . . ” Quicksilver eyes narrowed as he blew out a breath. “A better question is why are you avoiding me?”

  “I-I’m not avoiding you. I’ve just been busy with work.” She had a strong urge to turn around to verify if her pants had caught on fire. Instead, she averted her eyes and reached for a towel to pat herself dry.

  Yanking the emergency stop cord on the treadmill, he towered over the machine.

  “Hey!” she protested. “I have ten minutes left.”

  “You and I are gonna have a conversation. We can have it now, at your job, where everyone can overhear, or we can take a quick walk to your place. Your choice.”

  She rolled her eyes, tempted to call his bluff. No way was he going to risk blowing his precious reputation by having a “lovers’ spat” in public.

  Hopping on the side of the treadmill, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Do not tempt me. I’ve called you and texted you, and you’ve been M.I.A. I don’t know what’s in your head, but we’re going to work through it.”

  She jerked her head back. “Don’t worry. I won’t sabotage your chances at getting your millions and into the warm beds of countless women.” She swallowed as if forcing down a spoonful of castor oil. Her words were bitter, ugly, and cruel. I’m turning into a coward and a shrew. I need to apologize.

  Before she could, his eyes changed lightning quick from mildly pissed to supremely angry. “Not gonna ask again,” he growled. “Do you wanna have it out right now?”

  Her eyes scanned the room. They were getting stares from mentees, parents, and other volunteers. No. This wasn’t the place. She didn’t want him to invade her home with his sexiness, but she’d rather have a private conversation outside her place of employment.

  “Let me get my bag from the locker room, and I’ll meet you outside.”

  • • •

  Jake stood behind Charlotte while she rooted through her purse for her apartment key. The woman was driving him batshit crazy. In all his adult life, he’d never had to track down a woman. After day four—yes, he’d counted—he’d called Damien. Charlotte’s boss was no help at all and seemed to take glee in giving Jake vague answers.

  Finally, he texted his mentee, Dax, to be on the lookout. The following day, Dax snapped a picture of Charlotte’s ass with a message that read, She’s here and looking good. Jake made a mental note to himself to smack the back of Dax’s head at the first opportunity. He was a good kid, but he was also the type to share that pic with friends.

  Unlocking the door, Charlotte dropped her gym bag near the entry and rushed to the kitchen. Swinging open the refrigerator door, she pulled out a bottled water and took a deep gulp. “You want one?”

  He shook his head. No, he wanted to get to the bottom of why she was avoiding him. He had a theory it had something to do with the confrontation with her parents. They’d bonded that weekend. He was sure of it.

  “No. I’d like for you to sit and discuss what’s going on.”

  “I’d rather stand.”

  “Fine.” He sat down on her loveseat. “Stand if you want, just tell me what’s up.”

  She shrugged. The off-shoulder t-shirt slouched even further down her arm. “Like I said, I’ve been busy.”

  “Right. What have you been so busy doing?”

  “Working with the media for my job and my dance classes, writing guest posts and articles to generate publicity for the center, and hanging with friends. You know, I do have a life outside of our agreement.”

  Acid corroded his insides. “You know this is more than an agreement. I thought after everything that happened with our families last week that—”

  Gripping the bottle, she shook her head. “No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Your parents,” he continued over her protest. “I get it. They want you to fit into a mold that isn’t you. But I saw the tears in your mother’s eyes . . . the guilt lingering in your father’s. They love you.”

  Charlotte tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin. “No, they don’t. The only person in the world who loved me was buried six feet under six months ago.”

  “You can’t believe that.”

  “I do!” She pointed to the door. “If you keep bringing them up, you can leave. We can talk about anything else but them.”

  He stood and slowly walked toward her. Chest heaving, she backed herself against the refrigerator.

  Nowhere to hide. Closing the distance, he slapped his palms on the top of the freezer, boxing her in. Her scent intoxicated him, and he nearly lost his focus. The throbbing vein in her neck was tempting the hell out of him, begging him to lick, nibble, and mark her. “Don’t you want me—I mean, us to be friends?”

  Expelling a breath, she pushed against his chest.

  He backed away and scanned her face. Lips quivering, she lowered her chin and stared at the floor. Damn, he’d hurt her. He didn’t know how or why, but her pain blended into his own. “Why are you upset?”

  “Sure. Whatever.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “We’re friends.” She spat the words out like a curse.

  “You don’t want us to be friends?”

  Eyes still closed, she remained silent. Damn, this entire time he thought there was something special. He’d never spent so much time with a woman without trying to get into her pants. Sure, he wanted in Charlotte’s pants more than he wanted to win the World Series, but she was a forever girl. And as much as he’d like to be, he wasn’t a forever man. He couldn’t go there with her. Not now, maybe never.

  He needed to focus on getting the deal, securing his nieces’ and nephews’ futures, and buying his parents and siblings their dream homes. Pay them back, somehow, for the countless hours they spent coaching him, going to games, and supporting his dream.

  “So, you don’t enjoy our time together?”

  She shook her head.

  “Fine, Charlotte. Just say the words, and I’m outta here. I can get the damn Threx deal some other way, and I’ll never darken your doorstep again.”

  “That’s not the problem, Jake. I want you here. I enjoy your company too much. I love your family, and I loved that you had my back at my parents’ house. I . . . ” She ducked from under his arms and rushed toward the living room.

  He turned to follow her.

  Shaking her head, she waved her hands. “This whole thing is so confusing. I don’t know where reality begins and fantasy ends. This past month, us spending every day together, I’ve gotten to know you. You’re a great man, and now you’re my best friend. But the foundation of whatever we are started on a lie. And I can’t tell what’s the truth and what isn’t.”

  He grabbed the back of his neck, sighing in relief. “Truth or dare.”

  Her bright eyes shimmered. “What? Now isn’t the time for games.”

  He pushed off the fridge, marched to the comic book cabinet, and whipped out the Lasso of Truth.

  Her eyes widened, and she backed away.

  He drew closer and, like a determined cowboy, he looped and locked her in. Her chest heaved against his stomach. “I’ll give you a choice again. Truth,” he tightened the lasso against her lush ass, “or dare.”

  “Truth.”

  Damn, he wanted a dare. Dare him to take her on the couch, to relieve the throbbing ache pressing against his jeans. Dare him to taste every inch of her delectable body.

  “Are we friends?”

  She nodded.

  “Now, your turn. Ask me a question. Any question, and I’ll tell you the God’s honest truth.” Ask me what
I want.

  She pushed away, forcing him to drop the lasso. “H-how do you . . . ”

  “How do I what?” He softened his tone, hoping to encourage her to ask the question she clearly needed him to answer.

  “Do you like me . . . umm . . . as a friend, I mean.”

  He stepped into her space again. This time, he pulled her into a hug. “The truth is, you’re my best friend. You know more than even my homeboy Shawn and my brothers know. Truth is, I’m finding the boy I lost in high school. Truth is, I’m my best self when I’m with you. I’ve never been as close to another woman as I have with you. I like . . . ” He stopped himself. Damn, he felt like he was in the hot seat at an intervention with Dr. Phil. But he’d placed himself there. “I like who I am when I’m with you.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry for acting like a brat. You’ve been nothing but forthcoming and kind. And I’m . . . I’m just way into my feelings right now. Friends again?” Friends. Damn, he was starting to hate the word, but it would have to do. He couldn’t give her more. More meant he would eventually break her heart when he’d developed a taste for other women. “Yes, friends.”

  She shyly smiled at him.

  “Okay, friend,” he said. “I’m starving. Can we grab something to eat?”

  “How about I freshen up and we can stay in? I was going to bake some fish and whip up a salad.”

  “Sounds good, angel. But before you shower, can I use your restroom?”

  “Of course.” She jerked her thumb toward the hallway. “It’s around the corner. You can’t miss it.”

  He stared at her. Standing there in her workout clothes, she looked so damn fine in her tight black shirt and even tighter black pants. His hands itched to explore her curves like a sculptor admiring a fine piece of art. “What is it?” She gave him a small smile.

  That small smile caused a large explosion of something he wasn’t quite ready to name in his chest. “Nothing.” He shook his head. “This way,” he jerked his head toward the bathroom, “right?”

  Real smooth, Ross.

  “Right.” She snorted and then turned around to open the fridge.

  Don’t look at her ass. He looked at her ass. A damn fine ass.

  His dick swelled. Now he would be using the bathroom for an entirely different reason.

  Turning around and walking toward the bathroom, he ran through his stats from last season. Thankfully, numbers did the trick on his slugger. He did his business, then reached for the eucalyptus mint soap and washed his hands. A small white device propped in front of a hand mirror caught his attention. After toweling his hands dry, he picked up the contraption that reminded him of a mini walkie-talkie his friends had used as preteens and pressed the OK button. A flashing icon that looked like a blood drop appeared.

  Jake’s blood went cold. He knew what it was but had to be sure. Opening her medicine cabinet, he found a small black kit that looked about the size to store the device. He then spotted a stack of white strips.

  Red hot energy coursed through his body. The fainting spell . . . her family having a history of diabetes. She told me she wasn’t diabetic. “Friends my ass.” He wanted to smash the monitor to smithereens. Instead, he marched into the kitchen.

  Charlotte hummed as she seasoned two pieces of salmon.

  He waved the device in front of her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She lifted her head, and her eyes widened when she saw the monitor. “I . . . ” She crossed her arms. “Why were you digging in my medicine cabinet?”

  “It was near your sink, out for anyone to see.”

  She shook her head, averted her eyes to the sink, and washed her hands. “It’s nothing, and I—”

  “No, Charlotte. It’s something. I’m your friend, or so you say.” He pointed to his chest and moved closer. “And I’m your trainer. It was imperative that you tell me about you being diabetic. Hell, I could’ve recommended you eat something that would’ve been bad for your health.”

  “I don’t have diabetes!” She jerked her hands up in a defense. “I have prediabetes. My gynecologist actually found out, and then I went to a general practitioner. But I’m doing well. My levels are going down, thanks to you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you trust me?”

  Licking her lips, she looked down at her feet. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just . . . you know Big Mama died from diabetes. And to be honest, we’ve had so many people in our family who lived with it that it didn’t hit me until she died from complications. And now . . . I don’t want you or my family or my friends to treat me differently, and you would’ve if you’d known. So, I haven’t told anyone.” She squeezed her eyes and her fists. “I’m going to beat this. And trust me, after passing out and bumping my head, I knew I had to do this the right way. And you’ve taught me a lot. I’m not going to put my life in danger any longer.”

  He flinched at the word danger. He couldn’t imagine a world without Charlotte in it. And she was right. She would win. They would win. She wouldn’t be alone in this. Not ever again.

  She nibbled her lips and rubbed her elbows as if warding off cold temperatures.

  Releasing his grip around the monitor, he placed it on the counter and then opened his arms.

  “Come here.”

  She rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

  He kissed the top of her head. “We’re in this together. I’ve got you.”

  “Okay, Jacob.”

  “And don’t lie to me again.” He didn’t try to hide the gruffness in his voice. She needed to know that what she’d done, even lying by omission, was risky. Not to mention that he didn’t like the fact that his angel felt it was okay to hide things from him.

  “I won’t. Not ever again. And I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He whispered against her head. His voice was calm, but his mind still raced, dizzy from the turn of events. He squeezed tighter and realized he didn’t want to let her go. Not physically and not emotionally. This no longer was about a deal or helping out a friend. The thought of losing her twisted his insides. Charlotte meant something to him, and life was too damn short not to explore those feelings.

  “Friends again?” she whispered.

  Hell fucking no.

  He was about to tell her as much when a buzz interrupted the moment, and she stepped away from his arms. Grabbing the phone from his pocket, he saw a text from his agent. “Damn. Gina wants us to go to some charity event this Thursday. Can you make it?”

  “Sure.” She gave him a shy smile. “It’ll be fun.”

  He smiled back. She had no idea, but he planned to wine and dine her. Then she wouldn’t have a doubt in her mind where they stood with each other.

  Chapter Ten

  Charlotte smoothed her fire-engine red chiffon gown as she stared into the full-length mirror. She had to admit that the stylist Jake hired for her was a genius. The halter top emphasized her full and pert breasts, and the skirt flared right below her hips, covering and highlighting all the right places. She twirled to check out her backside. Not bad, Ms. Jones.

  She felt a bit like Cinderella but bolder, wiser, and—dare she say—sexier. Surprisingly, she was excited to attend the celebrity-studded event to raise money to build schools in Africa.

  A phone ringing cut short her perusal. Grabbing her cell, she swiped the screen without looking. She knew it was probably Jake.

  “Hey,” his deep voice rumbled, causing all kinds of chaos to her heart. “I’m downstairs. Are you ready?”

  “Yes. I’ll be down soon.”

  “No. I’m coming upstairs to get you.”

  “Ummm . . . okay, I guess. I mean, I can just walk downstairs.”

  “Charlotte, I’ve been imagining what you’d be wearing all day, and I’ll be damned if I get a half-assed experience of you hopping into the limo. We have time. Unlock the door after you confirm that it’s me.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. The man was unna
turally preoccupied with her safety. She lived in an okay neighborhood, and her neighbors were friendly.

  “All right, Jacob.”

  “That’s my girl. See you soon.”

  Charlotte slipped her phone into a satin clutch and gave herself one last look. You’ve got this. Rushing to the bathroom, she put on the finishing touches—another swipe of clear deodorant, another dab of gloss, and a quick spritz of perfume.

  The door buzzer made her to hurry through her touch-up. “Coming, coming!” She hustled through the living room and flung open the door.

  “What did I tell you about . . . ” But the anger wrinkling his brows and flattening his lips disappeared. In its place burned a smoldering, let-me-change-my-panties gaze. The path of his heated stare started north at the curls piled atop her head, then slowly took in the necklace the stylist had found, and finally landed south to the fitted red dress.

  “Daaaammnn, angel. I see you took off the halo tonight.”

  I’ll take off more if you let me. Instead, Charlotte smiled. “And you look pretty darn good yourself.” Which was not an empty compliment. The man was Fine with a capital F and sure to turn heads on the red carpet. He wore a classic, European-style tux with satin lapels, black shirt, and a black bowtie. She wanted to unwrap him. With my teeth.

  The only color that stood out was the stark gray of his eyes.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here before that dress becomes an area rug.”

  “My dress on the floor? Why would I do that?”

  “You wouldn’t be doing anything. The pleasure would be all mine.”

  For once, she didn’t shy away from his bold comment. “We can stay in and snuggle on the couch.” She stepped closer. “But,” she reached for his bowtie, “you have to keep this on.”