The Billion Dollar Player: A Billionaire's Club Story (2 page)

Avery hid a smirk. Probably not the first time she’d ever said that in front of an audience. Her gaze met Jason’s and she could have sworn they were having a moment. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips twitched as though suppressing a smile. It shouldn’t be funny. Really, Avery was mortified. So why did she suddenly feel like laughing?

“Can someone please get this lovely lady a towel or something?” Jason seemed oblivious to the expression of smug pleasure that blossomed on the Barbie’s face. “And as for the rest of you yahoos, go find something worth staring at. I thought this was a party!”

Nervous laughter followed and the crowd quickly dispersed. Avery had a feeling that Jason Blackwell was used to people doing as he said. Especially when it came to women. As she continued to sweep the shards of glass into a manageable pile, Avery caught sight of someone coming from the kitchen with a large, fluffy towel. Thank god. She was afraid she was going to have to mop up the champagne with her own shirt.

“Here you go, sweetie.”

The towel that Avery thought had been brought for her was draped over the Barbie doll’s shoulders by one of the waitstaff. Lovely. Could this night get any worse? Wait. She probably didn’t want an answer to that.

“Jase, could you show me to the bathroom?” Barbie cooed. “I want to rinse some of the sticky off me.”

Avery rolled her eyes.
Seriously?
One more crack like that and she was going to lose her cool. She refused to meet Blackwell’s gaze this time. They weren’t sharing a “moment” or anything else. She was the hired help and he was the football star. Fraternization wasn’t only far-fetched, it was flat-out impossible.

Jase. It was obvious that Barbie was on a nickname basis with him. Avery tried not to think of how cute it was or how the name suited him so much better than Jason. And likewise, she kept her eyes drilled to the mess in front of her as he pushed up from the floor to escort little miss wet ‘n’ sticky to the bathroom.
Gag
. Avery was willing to bet that she looked just like a Barbie without her clothes, too. Hard plastic parts and not an inch of her the body that god and her mama gave her. Just the way guys like Jason Blackwell liked their women, no doubt.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not making any progress.”

Avery’s heart stuttered in her chest as she looked up the length of Jason’s considerable frame. Dang. They really did grow ’em bigger in Texas. “Shouldn’t you be in the bathroom helping my unfortunate victim to disrobe?”

He squatted down beside her and was still a good foot and a half taller. He had to be pushing six and a half feet if he was an inch, and carrying at least two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle around on his large frame.
Close your mouth and stop staring, you idiot!
Jason Blackwell was a tower of masculine perfection.

“There were more than a few able bodies ready and willing to help your victim out of her dress,” Jason remarked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I left them to it so I could bring you this.”

He pulled a stack of white kitchen towels from behind his back and Avery almost squealed with delight. The rest of the waitstaff had treated her as though she were all but invisible, leaving her to flounder in a pool of champagne and a pile of broken glass as if her clumsiness was a communicable disease. She’d been just about to go on a quest for a mop and bucket before Jason showed up with the towels. “Would it be cheesy to say that you are officially my hero?”

“Hell no,” Jason replied. “In fact, I demand official hero status from here on out. But I do think you owe me a reward for my gallantry.”

“A reward, huh?” Avery wasn’t sure what he was angling for, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to pull up her skirt as a thank you. “Don’t heroes usually perform good deeds out of the kindness of their hearts?”

He flashed her a wicked grin and Avery was pretty sure that if she wasn’t already on her knees, that smile would have gotten the job done. “What’s your name?”

“Avery,” she remarked.

“Avery? Really?”

Aaaand enter the jokes, teasing, and comments that she had a boy’s name. She’d heard them all. “I take it your parents hadn’t planned on you being anything but an Avery, am I right?”

Stunned silence followed. Wow. Not even a single wisecrack. “Um, yeah. That’s pretty much it. My dad was planning on naming me after my great-grandpa. When I wasn’t a boy like they’d thought, he slapped my name on the birth certificate before my mom had a say.”

“Avery. I like it. I’m Jase Blackwell, by the way. Also known as the hero of the night.” He motioned to the stack of towels. “How about you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night? I’ll even help you mop up the champagne.”

“Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea. I mean, you’re—and I’m—” How could she possibly explain to him why a date was the worst idea ever? She took the towels out of his hands and averted her gaze. “It probably wouldn’t work.”

“You’re gonna shoot me down, just like that? You wouldn’t believe what I had to do for those towels.”

His nonplussed expression only solidified why it wasn’t a good idea for Avery to go out with him. Guys like Jase Blackwell got what they wanted when they wanted it. And the girls they dated were equally self-confident and just as gorgeous. Avery wasn’t exactly arm candy material. She wouldn’t last a second on a date with Jase before he realized what a monumental mistake it was. Ultimately, she was doing them both a favor by turning him down.

“You don’t have to do me any favors, really. This isn’t the first time and it sure as hell won’t be the last time I make a fool of myself in public. You don’t have to feel obligated to help me. I can wrap this up all by myself. Thanks for the towels, Jase. You’d better get back to the party.”

“Obligated? What the fuck does that even mean?”

The burn of Avery’s cool rebuff was still simmering just under Jase’s skin even after having a week to cool down. He couldn’t get her out of his head, his memory overwhelmed with images of her dark hair cut into an edgy bob, and the most gorgeous green eyes he’d ever seen. There was a pretty good chance he could have bench-pressed her petite frame with one arm she was so tiny, and she had the cutest button nose he’d ever laid eyes on. In a word, she was stunning. And the fact that he couldn’t have her, made him want her that much more.

“How in the hell should I know what it means?” Carson sat on his couch, watching game footage. There wasn’t a day of the week the guy wasn’t eating, breathing, or sleeping football. “I know I said she was the one, but maybe you should have cut your losses and moved on. The room was full of supermodel-gorgeous women.”

Supermodel-gorgeous? Hardly. More like rode hard and put away wet. The tension and bad-luck streak he’d hoped to end with a wild romp with Avery had crashed and burned. And rather than find some other woman to get the job done, convincing Avery to go out with him had become Jase’s single-minded obsession. “Can you just give me the name of the catering company?”

“I can, but I gotta say, this isn’t the best time to start anything. You were supposed to hit it and quit it, dude. Not chase after her like a lovesick puppy. The playoffs are around the corner and I want your brain getting the necessary blood flow. Know what I mean?”

“Dude. I don’t even want you thinking about where my blood is flowing. Know what
I
mean? Just give me the damned number and get back to your home movies.”

“You’re going to appreciate these home movies come next week. Especially when I decide to throw an outside right pass.”

Translation: give me any more shit and you won’t even touch the ball next game. “Have I ever mentioned how much I love the fact that you watch so much game footage? I mean—”

“All Occasions Catering. Now get lost.”

“Thanks,” Jase said as he headed for the door. “See you at practice tomorrow.”

“Don’t be late!” Carson called after him. “Cuz we’re going to the Super Bowl, baby!”

Another reason why Jase loved Carson: his unfailing optimism.

∗∗∗

Throwing together yet
another
last-minute party wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Especially since most of the people he’d invited had already been to one of the three he’d thrown last week or they had other plans. What had started out as a full-on bash was now more like a dinner party on steroids. Just a little bigger and bulkier than you might expect. Definitely not the sort of shindig that would warrant a handful of waitresses. Of course, just like for the past three parties, there was only one waitress that Jase wanted in attendance tonight.

He’d requested her again specifically and since the team—and now Jase—had thrown a lot of business their way, the caterer had assured Jase that Avery would be there without question. Jesus, he was nervous as a newborn calf, all wobbly legs and unsure steps. Twice already tonight he’d tripped on his own damned feet and he doubted that would do much to make an impression.

Unless he was planning to send her running the other way.

At half past six, the caterers arrived, carrying in boxes full of food that made Jase’s stomach growl. He’d requested good old-fashioned Texas barbeque tonight, the kind like his mom used to make. Brisket, beans, potato salad, and cornbread. Tailgating food.

“I swear, I’ve been here so many times in the past week, I feel like this is my own kitchen. I don’t even have to ask where the plates and silverware are anymore. I’ll go ahead and get the table set.”

Jase looked over at the caterer—Penny? No, Peyton. He’d been preoccupied, searching for one face in particular. “Sorry, what was that?”

Peyton repeated herself, but again Jase didn’t hear a word. Avery walked into the kitchen beside another woman, each of them carrying a cardboard box. His gut clenched tight and his mouth went dry. Damn, just the sight of her sent him reeling, like the rush of taking a shot of top-shelf bourbon. He was drunk on nothing more than her nearness.

“Mr. Blackwell?” the caterer gave him a quizzical look.

“Sorry?” Jesus, he wasn’t doing much to come across as a guy who had his shit together. He forced his gaze from Avery and let Peyton lead him toward the patio. Right, she’d asked something about where he’d wanted her to set up the buffet. “I’ve got tables ready to go over here.”

∗∗∗

“I think someone has a crush,” Kristie whispered in a singsong tone into Avery’s ear. Her stomach was slowly clawing its way to her throat and no matter how many times she swallowed, she couldn’t seem to get rid of the lump.

“I seriously doubt that,” Avery replied with a grin. “Just because he asked me out once, doesn’t mean he meant anything by it. He only took pity on me because I’d made a fool out of myself.”

“Uh-huh. Right.” Kristie’s rueful tone rang out in the expansive kitchen that gleamed with polished granite and stainless steel appliances. It was the sort of gourmet layout that was every aspiring chef’s dream. She’d kill for a kitchen like this. “This is the guy’s fourth dinner party in just over a week, Avery. And Peyton told me that he’s requested that you work every single one. I doubt it was your superior serving skills that put you at the top of his list.”

“Ha. Ha. Thanks.” Avery knew she wasn’t the world’s most graceful person. Her middle name was klutz. And as a server, she sucked. She’d taken this job with the hopes that Peyton would eventually put her in the kitchen doing what she loved most: creating culinary masterpieces. But so far, she’d done little more than arrange hors d’oeuvres on serving platters. Not exactly fulfilling her life’s ambition. “I think you’re wrong, but I’m not going to complain about the extra hours. It’ll be a nice pad to my paycheck.”

“Oh, I’m not wrong,” Kristie replied. “And I think I owe you a
big
thank you. Four Dallas Cowboys parties in less than a week. Bring on the man candy!”

From the French doors that led out to the patio, Jase Blackwell stared over the heads of everyone in the kitchen, those light-brown eyes zeroed in on her. A pleasant shiver rippled from the top of Avery’s head and slid down her spine. His back had been turned to her when she’d first walked into the kitchen, but even so, her heart fluttered when she’d recognized the defined muscles, the curve of his neck, and shock of tawny hair that was just the right amount of messy. When he turned and noticed her? Her knees had buckled. His effect on her was undeniable.

After a week of thinking of nothing but the sexy football star, how pathetic was it that she’d known him with his back turned to her? Their gazes locked and his lips spread into a slow smile. It was that wicked, confident, I-get-what-I-want-when-I-want-it expression that had nearly curled Avery’s toes when they’d first met.

“Look at the size of his hands,” Kristie said under her breath as she started to unload the boxes. “How would you like to have those palms cupped around your ass?”

Avery could think of worse ways to spend an evening. “Pro ballers are notorious for screwing around.” It was better to remind herself of why Jase Blackwell was off-limits rather than entertain any fantasies about what it would be like to have his hands on her. “Would you really want to subject yourself to that sort of revolving-door hookup, Kristie?”

“He could revolve my door anytime.”

Avery laughed. “Gross.”

“What? Are you seriously trying to tell me that you wouldn’t let
the
Billion Dollar Blackwell ring your bell into the wee hours of the morning if you had the chance?”

She’d had the chance. Sort of. And she’d sent him packing. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t you feel self-conscious? I mean, the guy must get propositioned by hotties all the time.” Women a thousand times more put together than she was. “I’d be so worried about measuring up that I probably wouldn’t enjoy myself.”

“You’re a total hottie, Avery.” Kristie nudged her hip into Avery’s as she took the foil off a pan of sliced smoked brisket. “You already measure up.”

Avery wiped an imaginary tear from her eye and sniffed. “And that is why you’re my BFF.”

“Damn straight,” Kristie said. “A girl can dream, right? I say go for it, Avery. When are you ever going to get another opportunity like this again? Live a little! In fact, I
dare
you to go after him.”