Playing for Hearts (94 page)

“Another tournament?” he asked.

Grayson shook his head. “It's for Shauna. She's hosting a gala for the senator next month.”

“I can't believe how far she's come. Ever since her success with the fundraiser at Cottage Grove, she's put on some huge events.” Bruce slapped his hand on Grayson's shoulder. “I envy you your family. That's what it's all about. A good woman who loves you. A son. Success. Wimbledon status. Retirement in the bag. Not to mention sex whenever you want it. I want to be you, bro.”

Grayson's lip twitched and he lifted his chin, motioning behind Bruce. He glanced over his shoulder at Crista, holding Trevor, and Shauna. Going by Crista's imitation of an endangered spotted owl in an Oregon forest and Shauna's crinkled eyes as she tried unsuccessfully to hide her amusement, Bruce concluded that both of them heard what he'd said to Grayson.

“Just pumping him up and making him feel better.” Bruce winked at Shauna, trying to save his reputation.

Crista continued to stare at him without making any comments. At a loss for words, he stood there and looked back at Crista, willing her to understand. But how could she when he didn't even understand what he was talking about?

Eventually, Trevor broke the awkward silence when he squirmed to get down and Crista looked away.

“Go.” Trevor caught himself when he tripped over the rug in the kitchen and headed straight to Bruce. “Go.”

Bruce laughed and Trevor wrapped his arms around his leg and sat down on his foot. “You remember, huh?”

Two months ago, he'd shown Trevor how to sit on his boot and then proceeded to take him on a ride. To keep him entertained at the Schylers' party, he walked around with Trevor glued to his leg. He felt like an idiot at the time, especially when his leg needed a rest after awhile. But he could hardly tell the little boy to get off because Trevor was not only content but was also giving his parents a needed break.

“Why don't you give him a ride to the elevator? We need to get out of here if we're going to beat the traffic up the coast.” Grayson stepped over to Crista. “Sorry we're only dropping in to say hi. We were afraid we wouldn't get to see you before you left for Hawaii, and Shauna thought it was better to have a short visit than no visit at all.”

“No, I'm glad you did. I just wish we had more time together, and we, uh, I could take you out to eat and show you the town.” She kissed his cheek. “I'll fly to Cottage Grove soon and catch up with you then. The girls are all due for a night out, anyway.”

“Sounds like a plan. Bring Bruce along, and I'll call Dominic and Gary. We'll make it a party … say in a couple of weeks.” Grayson stepped back and opened the door. “Get your Uncle Bruce moving, Trev.”

Trevor squealed and bounced on Bruce's bare toes. He led the way, feeling stupid but knowing he'd do anything for the kid. No wonder Grayson looked so damn happy. Who could be pissed off at the world when the guy had everything he could want?

Halfway down the hall, Janelle's door opened and she posed in her doorway. Bruce hesitated. Not because he looked forward to another verbal spar with her, but because Crista didn't deserve to have to put up with the girl's shit. He glanced down at Trevor. The kid didn't need to have his Uncle Bruce introduce him to the shadier side of life.

Janelle stuck her nose up at him and smiled in Crista's direction, though her eyes went straight to ogling Grayson. Bruce held his arm out and motioned for them all to keep walking.

“Crista … I noticed you have more guests visiting.” Janelle stepped in front of Shauna, completely ignoring Crista. “I'm Janelle, supermodel for
Sports Illustrated
and the top runway model for Pierre Duponte in Paris.”

“Shauna Schyler.” Shauna gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Janelle turned her attention to Grayson, but before she could take one step toward him, Shauna blocked her way. “I don't think so.”

Janelle batted her lashes. “Excuse me?”

“Back off.” Shauna glanced behind her at Grayson. “Honey, can you get
our son
and I'll meet you at the elevator?”

Grayson smacked Shauna's ass as he walked by and whispered loud enough everyone heard him, “That's hot, baby.”

Crista bit down on her bottom lip to keep from laughing, and the sight of her happy warmed Bruce's chest. He scooped up Trevor and passed him to his dad. He not only wanted to find the contentment Grayson had found in his life, but he'd also pay big money to see Crista go toe-to-toe with Janelle the way Shauna had.

He glanced behind him at the girls, who stood facing each other off. Crista tugged on Shauna's arm and whispered something to her. Bruce turned back around. For some reason, Crista backed off from confronting Janelle, even with Shauna there as back up. It was long past time she put a stop to Janelle being a bitch to her.

Crista's lack of confrontation when it came to Janelle bothered him. What stopped her from standing up to Janelle if the bitch made her miserable?

Between the training class Crista was teaching and Bruce running down to Cabella's to autograph fishing poles to sell to the customers, he hadn't had time to talk to her in the two days since Grayson and Shauna's visit. He'd tried, but Crista kept the few minutes they had together before running in different directions all about what food was in the fridge and occasionally kidding him about cleaning the bathroom while she was gone.

His frustration level exceeded anything he'd ever experienced. Even disasters during a fishing tournament bothered him less. At least out on the water, he was in control. In Crista's apartment, he seemed incapable of finding a solution to put their friendship back in order.

He lay on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Hell, he didn't want to go back to being only friends. He wanted more with Crista. She consumed his thoughts, and his feelings toward her had grown. Looking back, he'd always had his best moments when she was with him. Their kiss had simply multiplied how much he wanted her in his life. Now he wanted more than laughs and companionship. He wanted to experience everything with Crista.

One thing was for sure: if he couldn't kiss Crista again, he'd rather go fishing. Out on the water, he'd be able to clear his mind. He sat up. Hell, that's what he'd do. He had equipment in the rental car. All he needed was a boat.

Pumped to do something to keep his mind off his troubles, he grabbed his cell phone off the coffee table and dialed his friend Allan. Then his answer to his problems hit him. He'd find out if Crista wanted to move forward or if she wanted to remain just friends. If he could get her alone out on the water, she'd focus on him, and he could convince her to give him a shot. Whatever happened, he'd take it because he wasn't going to lose her.

He'd ask Crista to go along with him. No, he'd demand she take the time to go fishing. She'd never be able to tell him no because she always enjoyed going out with him. He'd have her alone, no one around … secluded.

“Hey, Coldwell,” Allan said. “It's been a hell of a long time since I talked to you.”

“Hey … ” He chuckled, hearing Allan's booming voice over the phone. “I know, man. It has been a long time. I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Name it,” Allan said.

“I'm in town and need to borrow your boat. Just for tonight.” Bruce ran his hand through his hair and continued. “Nothing big, just me and a friend.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Allen said.

Bruce grinned, excited that his plans were falling together. “Great. I owe you.”

“Dinner. Next time you're in town.” The phone beeped. “Hey, that's Chuck. He's here to take me to the airport. The keys for the boat are tucked inside the left cabinet, bottom drawer. Take care of yourself, and I'll catch you next time, 'kay?”

“Yeah, sure thing. Bye—and thanks.” He disconnected the call, tossed his phone in the air, and caught it. “Perfect.”

Thirty minutes later, he had a picnic basket—okay, a plastic sack full of food—and the poles and tackle box they'd need in the car. He only needed the girl.

Ten minutes later, Crista came through the door and stopped. He waylaid her by blocking her off from walking down the hallway to her room. “Change your clothes, we're going fishing.”

She set down her gym bag. “Now? I just got out of the shower.”

“Did you shower at the gym?” He cocked his head. “Why didn't you come up here and shower?”

“Uh … 'cause it's safer.” She rolled her eyes.

“Right.” He had to get her onto a different subject and stop bringing up what he referred to as their naked kiss. “Great. Then let's go. I have a boat on reserve, and we can spend the rest of the afternoon floating on the water, enjoying ourselves.”

“Go ahead and go without me.” She squeezed the ends of her damp hair. “I have to … ”

He waited for her to finish, but she looked away. “You're avoiding me. I get that, but we're friends. This will be good for both of us. We'll do something normal and get back to not worrying if I'm going to kiss you again.”

“Ha! You probably think about it, but it hasn't entered my thoughts. It was nothing, just a kiss. You know you're not the only man I kiss. There are hundreds of men, some I barely know, who I end up kissing.” She flounced away. At her bedroom door she said, “Give me five minutes to change.”

Yes.
He grinned and headed for the door. Not only was he going to go fishing, he was going to prove her wrong. She might've kissed a few men in her life, but she hadn't experienced everything he could do with a kiss.

She was lying—she'd been right there with him when they kissed. He'd had her practically climbing his body. She couldn't deny what they'd done. He'd let her believe her lies and then prove her wrong. First, he had to make sure Crista understood that nothing was going to come between them. Not the kiss, not what he planned to do with her in the future, and definitely not Janelle. From now on, Crista got all his attention.

A half hour later, he escorted Crista onto Allan's yacht. He made quick work of untying the boat from the dock and setting the course out into the Pacific Ocean. The tide was going out, and they cruised over the barrier and hit smooth water fifteen minutes out. He stretched his shoulders, reveling in the ease of his muscles now that he was out on the water. The weather was perfect to get away from everything.

Seagulls flew overhead and the sun lay low on the horizon, keeping the heat of the day off them. Cool sea mist splashed over the rail as the yacht rocked. He walked over to Crista. Confident and relaxed, he was on his own turf, and he wanted to put her at ease, too.

She held on to the round railing, still struggling to find her sea legs. He stood beside her, enjoying the way she tilted her face to the wind and seemed to enjoy the antics of the birds swarming around the boat, looking for handouts.

Even more than actual fishing today, he wanted to have Crista out here sharing part of his life with him. He loved teaching others about fishing—maybe not ocean fishing, but a line in the water anywhere pleased him. That's why he spent the majority of his free time traveling to different fishing exhibitions and educating others on the newest techniques and equipment from his sponsors.

Crista nudged him with her elbow. “Have you ever thought of living out here?”

“On the ocean?” He shrugged. “I have a boat back home, and it's great for solitude. I don't think I'd want to make it permanent. I need some social activities.”

She turned around and leaned against the railing, putting her back to the sea. “I'm like that with training. When I run, I'm in my head. I know most people reach the zone where they can't even remember what thoughts run through their head. I'm the opposite. Doesn't matter if I'm running, biking, or swimming. I'm aware, but nothing bothers me.”

He half turned to face her because he wanted to follow the conversation and so far, he was failing. Something had bugged her since he'd arrived, and her subdued attitude had nothing to do with their kiss. “Does it bug you that you're always thinking, planning, reaching for goals?”

She sighed. “Yeah. Sometimes . . . ,” she shrugged. “I don't know. It'd be nice not to think too much. To live each day for whatever reason and not think about tomorrow.”

Booyah.
Supporting his friend was easy. She finally wanted to talk, and he really wanted to listen.

He pulled her over and wrapped his arms around her. She laid her head on his chest and he placed his hand on her hair. “I know my hugs don't compare to Satchel's, but I'm here for you.”

Her arms went around his waist and she said, “You'll do. Sorry I've been such a freak lately.”

“Anything I can do?” He rubbed her back.

She rubbed her cheek against his shirt. His balls tightened and he stopped rubbing her body. He waited because he knew what was happening. For once in his life, his brain was working faster than his dick.

Her warm body molded against his. Her breasts smooshed against his stomach, and he swore he could feel her hard nipples, nipples he remembered well, pressing into him. He tilted his head back without letting her go. In fact, he held her tighter.

Ah. Ah. Ah. There it was. He closed his eyes, willing his cock to stand down. She was going to kill him. Today was all about getting back into friend status, not jumping her bones.

Crista wiggled away. “I'm okay now. How about we fish … or you can fish and I can watch.”

He wanted to jump for joy, pump the air with his fist, flip off the air. Yes, he was safe. His hard-on would go away, and she'd never know what he was thinking. He'd made it through the first hurdle.

“Yeah, let me get the bait and poles.” He walked away, one leg stiffer than the other to hide his erection, and hoped he appeared as if he was walking with the sway of the boat.