Playing the Game (6 page)

Barry cleared his throat but didn’t move. “So tell me about this money problem of yours,” he said.

Roxanne raised her brow in surprise and pushed herself away from him. She picked up her drink and headed back to the couch. She hoped he wasn’t having second thoughts about her, but then after a quick glance over her shoulder she reassured herself that the interest was still there. Maybe instead, he didn’t want her to have second thoughts about spending a night with a sex fiend. She smiled at the thought. Then, after taking a deep breath, she answered his question.

“Nothing to tell. I’m broke. But I’ll get by. I have a lot of assets to sell.” She winked and he, of course, laughed. She couldn’t make herself ask him for the interview just yet. She didn’t want to spoil the evening. She didn’t want him to think it was about money or her job. Because it had nothing to do with either. Shaking her head, she also realized as soon as she asked him the favor she would look bad. Not now.

“So tell me about this smoking problem of yours.”

“Nothing to tell. I’ll get over it—eventually. What about your late husband? Why’d you marry him?” Barry came over and joined her on the couch. He wasn’t giving her any room to breathe.

“Not that again. What about your ex-wife, why’d you marry her?”

“Because she was pregnant.” He stopped.

She waited for him to continue. He didn’t. He took a swig of his brandy.

“Tell me about it,” she prodded.

“We got married, she had the baby, and six months later she was history.” He said it matter-of-factly.

“She walked on you.” Roxanne was not surprised.

“Yeah. Said something about not being able to stand it anymore. But I told her up front I wasn’t thrilled with her, or marriage. Warned her not to expect much from me. I guess she was sure she could change all that. But she didn’t.”

“And now?”

“Now she’s married to some baseball player and they’re all playing house somewhere, happy as clams.”

“She likes sports, eh?”

“Yeah. She was a spoiled, bored socialite who thought she’d get her kicks by taming the big bad basketball player from the wrong side of the tracks.” Barry took another long sip of his drink.

“But you showed her, didn’t you?”

He finally let a small half grin show at her taunt.

“You didn’t tell me yet why you married your late husband?” He gave her a mock-daring look. She figured—what the hell? Since they seemed to be sharing secrets.

“Not because I was in love with him. He was a wonderful person and he adored me. He was very attentive and indulgent, kind of overwhelmed me with it. I confess I’m a sucker for that kind of attention. He also had lots of money and a prestigious family. I guess I was impressed with it all.”

“So you married him for his money?” Barry’s face was neutral.

She nodded. “It looks that way.” She stood up, averting her eyes. She did not want to have to explain the unexplainable to him. But the sound of his amused laughter startled her and she turned back to him.

“Then I don’t get it—why the money problems?” Barry asked.

Roxanne had no idea what to make of his response, but she was relieved as much as she was surprised. “You don’t pay attention to the news much do you?”

“Only sports,” he admitted.

“I suppose I should be thankful for that. Though it seems you’re the only one. I’ve become a branded woman these days. I’ve been labeled a gold digger, and stories invariably include veiled hints about Donald’s suspicious and untimely death. Every time I think the story is dead they turn around and find something else to talk about. It’s almost as if someone’s feeding them stories.” She sat back down.

“What about the money?”

“Oh that. I gave it all back.” She looked at him with a shrug. “I denied the will. They would have contested it anyway.” She took another sip of her brandy, remembering again what she needed from this man. An uneasy feeling swept over her.

“Then you didn’t marry him for his money after all?”

“It looks that way.”

He prompted her with an arch of one brow and a not quite CIA interrogation-level stare.

She mentally squirmed and then squared her shoulders. He’d asked for it. “Bonnie chalks it up to fatherly neglect, but I…”

“Who’s Bonnie?”

“My caretaker,” she responded automatically to his interruption.

“You get advice from your gardener?” He was enjoying this.

“No, she takes care of me,” she told him without the silent “stupid ass” tacked on for attitude. “Since my mother died.”

That took the amused look off his face.

“When you were a child.” He sat back and swirled the liquid in his glass. “Was it a lot of money?” He changed to her other least favorite topic.

“Not that again. This soul-baring stuff isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

“I like seeing you squirm.”

“I can think of a lot better ways for you to make me squirm,” she said what was on her mind for better or worse. Anything was preferable to this painful conversation. She’d already broken her rule about easy affairs with shallow men. Right now she felt as if she were naked and covered with boils, figuratively speaking. But the real issue was the fact that Barry Dennis was far, far from a shallow man. She shuddered. That’s what made him both exciting and frightening.

“Oh, we’ll get to more of that.”

“All right then.” She resigned herself with a sigh. “Yes. Don left me lots of money. Even by your standards,” she told him.

“How do you know what my standards are? Where I come from if you had ten dollars in your pocket that was considered a lot of money. We used to dream of having hundreds. I never imagined thousands, never mind millions of dollars.” Barry had stopped smiling as he remembered.

“And now you’re a multimillionaire.”

He looked at her seriously and paused a second. “Yeah. But my goal in life is to die without a penny. Money’s worthless unless it’s spent.”

She laughed at that and his lopsided grin flashed at her. She felt easier with the conversation back to him again.

“What are you doing for money now that you got fired from your TV job?” he asked.

Her ease was short lived.
He couldn’t possibly be reading my mind
. Then she took a deep breath. There wouldn’t be a more opportune time.

“Don’t worry about me. I already got the job back. I start again next week and this time they’ll stick to the contracted three days a week.” She smiled, but her pulse was racing at the high stakes gamble she was taking.

“How did you manage that negotiation?” Barry looked impressed. Roxanne took another, deeper breath.

“I promised them I could get that interview with you—and they believed me.” She kept her smile in place but didn’t take any more breaths as she watched the astonished look on his face. Then all at once, he broke out in uproarious laughter. She breathed again.

“This means you’ll do it?”

“I’ll do it.” His laughter subsided and he shook his head. “I knew I didn’t have to waste my sympathy on you.”

“Great. I’ll call your agent next week and arrange it.”

“There’s one condition though.” His half-grin was in place.

“What’s that?”

“It has to be a live interview.” Mischief blazed in his eyes and the one dimple creased his cheek.

She knew he must be up to no good, but for some reason she trusted this man. He had something on his mind. But she felt safe. “You’ve got a deal.” She raised her chin to meet the challenge of his dare. It was like they were playing a game.

The next morning Roxanne woke feeling contented. Sun streamed through the tall, uncovered windows of the unfamiliar room. She turned her head to see Barry, eyes closed, hair disheveled, smelling of musty sweat and sex with a hint of smoke. She felt her stomach clench and her nerves tingle and it felt good. She stretched her length alongside his. She didn’t even come close to reaching his toes and she smiled to herself. As he lay there on his back, eyes closed and breathing deeply, she contemplated how she was going to wake him. Propping herself on her elbow, she took a long look at his face. She couldn’t resist touching the dark scratchy stubble along his chin. Her finger continued its travel toward his full lips where she lightly caressed their softness.

“I wasn’t dreaming after all,” Barry said even before he opened his eyes and reached over to touch a loose strand of Roxanne’s hair.

She jumped back and laughed. “Oh yes you were, but the dream isn’t over yet,” she whispered.

“Now I remember. This is where I lose all the control of a sane man. I don’t think I’ll ever wake up.” He took her in his arms, enveloping her.

Roxanne felt playful and her fingers went from light tickling of the taught muscles in his abdomen to an all-out attack. The ensuing struggle had them both panting from their laughter.

“I give up. I’m ravenous. I need some food. I think I spent more energy last night than in an entire series of playoff games. Let’s go out to breakfast.” Barry rolled out of bed.

Roxanne mentally noted the comparison to basketball. She surmised that’s how everything and everyone was with Barry—compared to basketball.

Swooshing her covers aside, she revealed her naked body. “I’ll go out, but I’ll look awfully conspicuous in my cocktail dress.” Roxanne lifted her brow in mock challenge. She loved the fiery glow of passion that lit Barry’s blue eyes. He sucked in his breath and if she wasn’t mistaken, she’d caught him off guard this time. She didn’t know if it was because of her—or because of himself and his reaction to her.

The long, lean muscles of his body seemed always to be in motion. She sighed. It wasn’t that she wasn’t hungry too, but she thought she’d much rather stay in and play with Barry.

He moved a hand onto her stomach. Both their eyes followed its motion as if hypnotized. She couldn’t remember a man’s touch ever being so stimulating. He moved his fingers in a circle around her navel and all she could do was nothing. Barry looked up at her and she dragged her eyes away from his hand to meet his gaze.

“You don’t want to go out?” he confirmed.

“Not unless you know of any place formal to go for breakfast?” She spoke softly. Roxanne knew he was hungry, but she also knew there was something else pulling him, another more powerful urge. This man had complete control of her. But he didn’t have any control. They were both lost in their sensual awareness of each other. And Roxanne didn’t care; she reveled in it; marveled at the pleasure of complete abandonment.

“That’s right, all you have is that slinky number from last night. Maybe we’ll find something to eat in the kitchen.” He leaned close to her as he spoke. She could feel her heart beat faster the closer he got to her, anticipating the hot silky feel of his naked body against hers.

But he never touched her. Instead, he leapt out of bed. She didn’t bother hiding her disappointment and he laughed at the pout on her face. Now she knew what it felt like to be teased. Roxanne wasn’t sure how much of her disappointment was from frustrated passion—and how much was from bruised ego. Apparently his appetite for food was greater than his appetite for her after all. She kicked at the blankets spilling onto the floor and then propped herself up to make herself comfortable.

“I hope I can find some food. I really am starved,” Barry said as he turned and looked around the room as if he would find it in the bedroom.

“You sound like a stranger in your own house. Ah, but I forgot—someone else takes care of you.”

“I have a housekeeper.” He gave her a warning look, as if he had something to hide. Roxanne wondered if he was hiding another woman, then decided he had to deal with that problem himself. She refused to think about it again.

“I won’t be gone long…” he stopped and picked up the alarm clock and gave it a puzzled frown. “Look at this. It’s almost noon—no wonder I’m so damned hungry!” He towered over her lounging body.

“I confess. I turned off the alarm last night. I hope you don’t mind.” She wasn’t worried. Roxanne couldn’t help the smile that escaped. Barry stood there stark naked before her with the alarm clock in one hand and the other on his hip. What a picture he made, she thought. His features slowly turned to that familiar grin. How could he only smile with half his mouth—and make it so engaging—she wondered? It emphasized the dimple in that cheek. And his eyes: relentless blue blazes of color that intimidated by the very virtue of their intensity. Or was it Barry, the man, who was so intimidating? He stood exceedingly tall, but not lanky or awkward. She let her eyes wander down the length of his body to figure how this could be so. He had ropey muscles that defined his body and gave him that look of perpetual motion. She decided that he was simply perfectly proportioned. In fact, Roxanne decided, he was simply gorgeous, and her smile deepened at the thought.

He saw there wasn’t an apologetic bone in her body. But it didn’t matter; he couldn’t work up any anger with her. Somehow they were in synch. And that never happened.

“I guess I had nothing that important to do after all. Certainly nothing I’d rather do,” Barry said. Her dark hair fell around her face her in chaos—a very attractive chaos. Her smile was as lively as if she’d been up for hours. The sexy stretch of her curvy body warmed his blood. His favorite thing about her, he decided, was the mole on her cheek that danced around with each expression she made, emphasizing her mood. Right now, she looked in a playful mood. So playing games it was.

Then it occurred to him. “Damn. I’m playing in that charity golf tournament tomorrow and I was supposed to get in some practice rounds today.” He knew there’d been something he wanted to get up early for. But as his gaze followed the sumptuous line of her body down from her shoulder, dipping in at her waist, rounding out at her hip and making a long slow curve down her thigh to her toes, he made a decision. “The heck with practice. It’s only golf.”

“Excellent choice. Now I’m hungry too.” She moved to get out of bed, but he stopped her. He pounced on her and hugged her around her waist, cupping his hands down around her bottom and squeezing her to him.

She squealed. “I thought you said you were ravenous?”