Going All the Way (Knights of Passion Book 1) (20 page)

“So, you’ll bail on me, a loyal employee who’s been very successful for you, with one exception, to keep my father happy?” Even knowing the answer, she had to ask the question, know where she stood with him.

“Shouldn’t you be asking why your own father would throw you under the bus?” His tone was sharp and pointed.

She sighed. “I know that answer already. Everyone is an extension of him and his image, especially his daughter. Politics first, everything else last. So of course, he’d want to control my life and my career, even to the point of blackmailing my boss. Michael, I had hoped for better from you.”

“He’s powerful and wields that power like a club. I may not like it, but I have to respect it, especially if I’m a target.” He huffed in the phone for a moment. “Stacia, I like you. You’ve been a good worker for us, but lately, something’s changed.
You’ve
changed. It’s like your heart isn’t it this anymore. Anything you want to tell me?”

She sank down in her chair, despair swamping her. Was he right? She had been hating her job for some time, but never thought it had shown. “That was certainly direct. And I owe you honesty.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not sure. I’m tired of the lies, whitewashing politicians and lying to the public. They deserve better. I can’t remember the last time I felt clean, Michael.”

“So, you pimp yourself out? Is it for the job or something personal? Are you cracking? Do you need me to send someone else? Sophie is between gigs.”

“Sophie? I thought she’d stayed with the campaign.” She sat straight up in her chair. Sophie was keeping things from her. What else was she hiding? Was she another Benedict Arnold, turning on Stacia in her moment of need?

“No, she decided she needed a break, although she phrased it as more of solidarity with you and how she felt you were
shafted
. Her words, not mine. So, she has some time on her hands and could take this on.”

Stacia was shaking her head even before Michael finished. Yes, it was the smart business decision. Her head told her to get out now, take a break and let Sophie handle it. Her heart was already too involved and had overridden her brain. The thought of leaving Jason now was too much to bear, especially when she didn’t know how she felt, how he felt about her. It wasn’t the smartest business decision, letting personal feeling override her direction, but she was loath to let anyone handle this. “No, I have this, Michael. I’m actually enjoying this job.”

“Are you sleeping with him?” His voice was mild and the sudden change of topic had her off balance. Vintage Michael, always knowing how to get to the heart of the matter in seconds. He came off like a good old boy but was really a piranha underneath the suit.

“That would certainly define enjoyment. But that’s private and my own business. It has nothing to do with the job. I’ve been successful.” No one could argue her success. Sleeping with Jason shouldn’t matter.

“You have,” he grudgingly admitted. “The client’s happy. Friar’s looking great on paper and is playing better, making everyone happy. But it’s only for a few weeks more, right? What’s your next step?”

“The usual. Interviews, maybe a charity event. We have six more weeks and the contract with the Knights is only for the remainder of the season. After that, it’s up to him. But this can set him up for a better contract next season.”

The subtle reminder that Jason was not going to be around for more than another couple of months or so wasn’t lost on Stacia. It was Michael’s way of telling her not to get too attached, not to lose focus. She appreciated his impartiality most of the time but right now, she didn’t want to hear it.

His tone roughened. “That wasn’t the job. We just had to keep him out of trouble for the Knights, our clients. You’re playing with fire, especially if you’re getting attached.”

“Right, and Jason isn’t my client, so there is no conflict of interest.” Yes, keep telling yourself that, Stacia.

“Semantics, Stacia. Weak argument. I’m not going to argue with you. What’s done is done. I just want to warn you.” His concern came through the line and she felt a rush of gratitude. Yes, he was her boss but he cared too.

“Duly noted. My job is on the line.”

“No, Stacia. I’m more worried about you. You don’t separate the job and personal very well. This is a big risk and I worry for you.”

She smiled, a genuine one. “Michael, I’m going to begin to think you care.”

He grunted. “Of course I do. That’s personal, but business is business. You need to be careful and watch your step. Your father isn’t happy. I’ll support you in this for now, but you’d better deal with him. And if the fallout affects my business, well, you and I will have to deal with it.”

The call disconnected with that final ominous note about her situation. Stacia rested the phone on the desk. She was in over her head, personally not professionally. Any professionalism she had been known for had gone out the window on this case. It
was
personal. She’d have to deal with the fallout once the season ended. She had no idea where it would leave her, but she had no illusions. Jason was a short-term relationship, if she could even call it a relationship. It had an expiration date and was more one of convenience than anything else. Someone was going to get hurt.

It was too late to protect her heart, she feared.

S
tacia stared at
the plain white door of Jason’s condo. She hadn’t been to his condo all weekend, leaving him and his mother to have time together. She had seen Celia at the stadium during the game, even shared dinner with them before Celia left Sunday night, but she needed space and didn’t return with Jason after dropping his mother off at the airport. He had looked confused, maybe even hurt, but the expression was masked so quickly, she wasn’t even sure she’d seen it. They had things to do, interviews to prepare for, and it was time to get back on track. Professionally speaking.

Personally speaking, well that was a whole other ballgame. She was quickly getting in over her head. What had started as a business plan, quickly morphed into a much more personal situation. The big question she had was, what was his perspective? Was she a convenient outlet for sex? Or was she something more?

Sleeping with a client was always a big no-no. She was riding a thin edge, her impartiality was compromised and everyone knew it. They were giving her latitude or was it rope to hang herself? If word got out that she slept with clients, she’d be ruined. She was pushing the envelope on this one and for what? A job she wasn’t even sure she wanted anymore? Or a relationship that may not survive another month? Or was it just great sex?

Damned if she knew what it was, or what she wanted.

Next on the agenda was coaching him through his ESPN interview later that day. Jason was a tough interview on a good day. Being up half the night after a Sunday night game was going to make him be a nightmare.

She steeled her spine and rapped on the condo door, firmly and loudly, the sound echoing in the bare spaces on the other side. After what seemed to be an eternity, the door was flung open and a rumpled and incredibly gorgeous Jason stood on the other side. He looked like sex and sin all rolled into one, wearing only a pair of boxers that left little to her imagination. Her mouth went dry at the full display of manhood and she wished she had time to explore it more thoroughly.

When she finally lifted her eyes up, his gaze skewered her from beneath scowling eyebrows and bed-head. “What the hell do you want?”

“And a good morning to you too! I brought breakfast.” She hoisted the donut bag and waved it under his nose. “Going without regular sex makes you grumpy.”

“There’d better be coffee too.”

“Here you go, grump.” He snatched the cup from her, careful not to spill anything and then hooked his foot around the door to slam it.

Stacia wedged herself firmly in the doorway, then bent back and picked up two grocery bags on the ground. “And something for later.” She pushed past him and walked down the hall into the kitchen, almost tripping over one of the boxes askew in the hallway. “Jeez, Jason. These are a menace. Can’t you move them? Maybe, I don’t know, unpack?”

“I won’t be here that long,” he muttered around a sip of coffee.

“Doesn’t mean you have to live out of boxes. Make it a home or something.”

“But it’s not my home,” he replied, following her into the kitchen. “It’s where I’m living until the season ends.”

She plopped the bags on the counter and turned to face him, hands planted on her hips. “Then what?”

He opened the bag with one hand and pulled out the donuts. He flicked his wrist and the bag fell to the ground. Kicking it to the side, he crossed the kitchen and perched on the bar stool.

She glanced at the paper then back at him. “I suppose you expect me to pick it up?”

He grinned, a boyish, charming grin with a hint of wickedness in his eyes. “Up to you. I don’t care.”

She stared at him for a few moments longer then huffed, annoyed at being relegated back to a servant, an employee, and not a lover. “You don’t care about a lot of things, Jason. Your home, your teammates, your fans. What do you care about?”

“I care about the sport. Baseball. That’s my life. This place, it’s not mine. It’s a temporary place, only slightly more permanent than a hotel room. My teammates? Half of them will be gone next year, on new teams, and so will I. And my fans? Where were they when the shit hit the fan? Gone. Like everyone else. Why should I give a damn about any one of them?”

She winced at the bitterness in his tone, could see it in the way he hunched in his chair, almost physically recoiling, and she couldn’t help herself. A small part of her shouted
stop
but another side of her reacted to the pain and loneliness and had to reach out, his pain a reflection of her own lonely years growing up the daughter of Senator Kendall and the responsibilities that went along with it.

She touched him on the shoulder intending to comfort but her hands slid across his back and to the other side. She leaned into him and hugged him, his muscles rigid under her embrace, tension radiating from his stance. Did he ever let himself go? Ever have anyone to just be himself with? Her heart ached at the pain in him. She pressed a tiny kiss to his shoulder, an innocent, light butterfly kiss, then laid her head on his neck. A shudder coursed through his body, but before he could push her away, she released him and stepped away to the other side of the counter and starting unpacking the grocery bags.

She worked in silence, while Jason brooded on the stool. When she pulled out a steak and a bag of vegetables, he grabbed her hand.

“What are you doing with that?”

“I’m putting food in the fridge. I thought it would be nice to have a home-cooked meal one night instead of restaurant or stadium food.” Maybe the stick would slide out of his ass and he would relax, go back to the fun Jason she was falling in love with.

Oh shit. As the thought registered, her knees weakened and she sagged against the counter. In love? Since when was this love and not business? This feeling was what everyone warned her about, why they were all so concerned. And she went ahead and did it anyway. She was so screwed and she didn’t care.

Oblivious as usual, Jason continued to complain. “Who’s going to cook it? I don’t even know if the stove works.”

She shook her head, amused at his attitude. “I’ll cook it, tonight after your interview. If you’re very good.”

His scowl returned at the mention of the interview. He tossed the empty coffee cup in the kitchen garbage. “I thought we agreed that interviews were a waste of time.”

“See, now I don’t remember it that way. I remember you saying you were willing to work with me and do a few interviews.”

“You were naked at the time. I would have agreed to almost anything.” He crossed his arms and pouted like a child.

“And so you did.” She slammed her hands on the counter. “Look, I don’t know what crawled up your ass and died but unclench and let it out. You agreed to this and I’m tired of fighting you.”

“You blackmailed me. I’ll need more than a steak as payment.” He corralled her into the corner of the kitchen and caged her neatly with his arms. “What else do you have to tempt me?”

She snaked a hand under his arm and pulled a chocolate cake out of the bag. She held it to his nose and waved it a few times. “Truce?”

He inhaled deeply, his eyes rolling back in his head. He reached for the cake box and she put it behind her. “Only if you’re good.”

He crooked an eyebrow, amber eyes melting like the frosting of the cake. “I can be very good, darlin’.”

“After the interview.” She pushed against his arms. She wasn’t going to fall for his little boy attitude and sexy he-man attitude. “You’re not getting out of this with sex.”

She ducked under his arm and behind him. She struggled to regain her equilibrium when her body screamed to get back under him, over him as long as she was touching him. She squared her shoulders and walked down the hall. “Now, let’s pick out what you’re going to wear. And leave that cake alone, Jason.” She sensed him following behind her but he was anything but meek. Once upstairs, she opened the closet door and saw nothing hanging. “Where are your clothes?”

He glanced around vaguely and waved his hand. “Somewhere in one of these boxes. I don’t know.” He flopped onto the bed and flicked on the TV.

She yanked the remote out of his hand and turned it off. “I see you had no problem unpacking the television.”

“And the sheets. Want to try them out?” He patted the mattress and waggled his eyebrows.

She smothered a smile, and pasted on her stern, headmistress face. “Not likely. We have four hours until your interview.”

“Well hell, I only need thirty minutes to drive to the stadium, maybe thirty more to get ready. Why the hell did you wake me so early? I got in at three a.m. I hate Sunday night games.” Irritation laced his tone, making him sound more like an overtired and cranky three-year-old than a thirty-something adult.

“You may have gotten in around three, but I still had to drive home, remember? So, I’ve had even less sleep than you. And you don’t see me whining.”