The Rebound Guy (16 page)

“So, where did your love of baseball come from?” he asked.

His question jerked her out of her lust-infused daze. She tore her attention from his chiseled profile and focused on his eyes, which were now staring directly at her from behind his smoke-colored sunshades.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with your liking baseball,” he continued. “I just didn’t peg you as a sports fan.”

She shook her head to clear it. “No, I uh...I’ve always loved baseball. I grew up watching it with my dad.” She’d managed not to choke on the last word, which was a welcomed surprise. Maybe she was finally beginning to forgive the bastard.

“Did he take you to Yankee games? Wait,” he caught himself. “You grew up in Camden. That makes you a Phillies fan, right?”

Asia nodded. “I didn’t start rooting for the Yankees until I moved to New York.”

“From a Phillies fan to a Yankees fan? How did that sit with Dad?”

“I wouldn’t know.” She looked out at the diamond, where the Yankees players were heading to the outfield. “I haven’t talked to him since I was eight years old.”

She felt Dexter’s eyes on her, his stare penetrating. A bevy of unasked questions weighed heavy between them, but mercifully, he didn’t push her to elaborate.

Asia twisted in her seat and settled back to watch as the Toronto Blue Jays’ third baseman connected on a baseline hit, tying the game at three all in the middle of the seventh inning. The crowd stood as a rendition of “God Bless America” streamed from the stadium speakers.

Taking the Seventh-Inning Stretch tradition literally, Dexter raised his arms high above his head, elongating his fit body. “I think I’m going to get a beer,” he said. “Do you want one, or some popcorn, maybe?”

“I thought you didn’t drink?”

“I don’t drink wine. Beer is a whole different ballgame.” He signaled for the man climbing the stadium steps with a tray of iced beer hanging in front of him.

“I think you just haven’t found the right wine yet,” Asia said as he reclaimed his seat. She looked over to the scoreboard as the batting lineup for the bottom of the seventh flashed on the screen. After a beat, she said, “Maybe we can have a wine-tasting session. You may find one that you like.”

She looked over at Dexter to find him smiling at her.

“If you’re offering, I’m tasting.” His wicked grin clearly stated they were no longer talking about wine.

Asia’s skin heated to scorching levels that had nothing to do with the relentless sun. They could be deep in the middle of the damp, dense rainforest, and Dexter would still make her body burn.

Why, again, had she decided not to sleep with him?

What did it matter if she’d hired him? In a way, didn’t that justify it? She was paying the man a sizable sum; shouldn’t she get her money’s worth?

She glanced over at his strong profile as he brought the cup of foamy beer to his lips. She had no doubts Dexter would be worth every cent she’d paid, and then some.

The eighth inning went by quickly, with each team striking out. At the top of the ninth, Toronto’s shortstop hit a homer with bases loaded, and a collective groan washed over the crowd.

“Well, I guess I’m not a good luck charm,” Asia said, as they rose from their seats and started for the aisle. They climbed up to the concourse, following the sparse afternoon crowd toward the exit.

“Based on their record so far this season, the Yankees haven’t been playing at their best. They probably would have lost anyway. Don’t let that keep you from coming to the games.”

“I will try to make a few more games this season. Despite the loss, this was more fun than I’ve had in ages,” she said as they made it onto 161st Street. After a moment’s hesitation, Asia stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His eyes darted to hers. “Thank you for coming with me,” she said. “I had no idea how much I’d missed it.”

His gaze seared her, raking over her face with barely concealed desire. Releasing a strained, audible breath, he nodded and said, “You’re welcome.”

Tightening his hold on her hand, they continued walking toward the subway. Just as they arrived to the station on River Avenue, Asia’s work phone rang.

“Uh, oh,” Dexter said, eyeing the cell phone. “I guess my wine-tasting lessons will have to wait.”

She held up a finger as she answered. It was Lance, letting her know that the housekeeper at the Mandarin Oriental had accepted their offer and signed a waiver of liability form.

“Yes,” Asia said with a tiny fist pump. “Good work. Do you need me to come back to the office so we can discuss the next step?”

“I can handle it,” Lance said. “Forget about this place for a change, Asia. You deserve some time off.”

His words triggered a thought that had been needling Asia since the morning India had come to her place to offer “moral support.” Even when Asia took time off from work, her body was always poised, always ready to get up and go at a moment’s notice. She had been wrapped up in her job for so long, she wasn’t sure how to
not
think about work.

Until today. Dexter had insisted this outing be about her, and nothing else. And until Lance’s call, she hadn’t given the office a second thought.

 Claiming he was famished, Dexter insisted on dinner. They took the D Train from the Bronx all the way to the stop at Broadway and Lafayette, then spent the next three hours hunched over a small table in a quiet corner of an eatery in Little Italy. Dexter had ordered four entrees, insisting that Asia sample each dish to make up for all those Wednesdays she spent eating chips and salsa.

She was blown away at how such a simple gesture warmed her body from the inside out. She’d spent so much of the past few years catering to the needs of everyone else—her clients, her sister, Cortland. Asia had forgotten just how special it felt to have her own wants and desires met.

As they rose from the table they’d occupied for much of the evening, Asia looked over at Dexter and asked, “Were you serious about the wine tasting?”

His brow quirked. “Were you?”

“Yes, if you are.”

“I am.” He nodded. “Do you want to go to that bar where we met before the mixer, or do you want to try someplace closer?”

She bit her lip, giving herself a moment to think things through. Asia knew once the choice had been made there would be no turning back.

Decision made, she looked up at him and said, “I have another place in mind. I’m more knowledgeable about the wine collection there.”

Dexter hailed a cab and Asia gave the driver the address.

As they traveled up Third Avenue, she turned to Dexter. “Do you have to go home and check on your dog? I just realized that you’ve been away from her all day.”

“She’s with my neighbor. We have an equal trade. She’ll watch Roxie for me when I need a dog sitter, and I do odd jobs around her place. You know, changing light bulbs, picking up her groceries, taking out her trash.” He shrugged. “My neighbor doesn’t get around all that well, and I think she likes having Roxie for company.”

Asia wasn’t sure whether her heart was on the verge of melting or bursting. “That’s so sweet.”

Another shrug. “I think about my grandmother back in Georgia. I’d want someone to do the same for her since I’m not around to do it.”

Okay, so her heart was definitely melting.

The cab turned right onto East 24th Street and pulled to a stop at her building. They exited the cab and Dexter looked up at the seven-story former brewery that took up most of the block.

“Is this where we’re having the wine tasting?” he asked with a note of confusion.

“Yes,” Asia answered. “It’s my home.”

His eyes shot to hers, narrowing in question before widening with the realization of what her choice of venue meant.

A week ago, she hadn’t trusted him enough to even let him know where she lived. But a lot could change in a week.

They entered the building and she introduced him to Harmon, the night doorman. Then she led the way to her fifth-floor apartment. She entered ahead of him, trying to remember whether she’d left anything even slightly embarrassing in view.

Dexter walked up the steps leading to the living room and headed straight for the towering fifteen-foot-high window between the living room and her apartment’s small balcony.

“Wow!” He craned his neck to look at the skyscrapers of downtown, and Asia pointed out landmarks. He whistled. “You’ve got a magnificent view. I could stand here for hours looking out at the city.”

“Sometimes I do.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Well, not for hours. But sometimes I do stand here looking out for a long time, especially at night.”

“You’re lucky to have found this. My apartment looks out over an alley. At least until the tomato vines grow big enough to hide the view.” Then his gaze roamed around the split-level apartment. “Small but appealing. It fits you.”

Feeling herself blush, Asia retrieved three 2009 reds from her wine cabinet and took them into the living room.

“You think so?” she asked as she returned to the kitchen for glasses and a bottle of water and crackers for palate cleansing.

Dexter turned from the window and walked over to the sofa. Sitting, he gestured to her living room in general. “The clean lines. The hardwood floors. The cool, neutral colors. You don’t strike me as the frilly pink lace type. This place suits you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever possessed anything made of frilly pink lace.” She laughed as she sat next to him. She looked around the apartment, which, even though it had no walls, was a nice size by New York standards. “I fell in love with this place the moment the broker showed it to me. It had more personality and more light than anything else I’d seen. I could have probably negotiated a better deal if I’d held out longer, but I was too afraid I would lose it.”

“That’s the way I approach life,” Dexter said, his voice suddenly deeper. “I believe if you see something you want, you should just go for it.”

His eyes locked with hers, and Asia felt her heart slamming against the walls of her chest. She pulled in a deep breath and turned her attention to the wines.

“I figured we could do a horizontal tasting. I have three Merlots from three of my favorite regions.”

She started to open a bottle from Napa, but Dexter caught her arm. In a voice that drizzled down her spine like warm honey, he said, “Why don’t we save the wine for later? There’s something better I’d rather taste right now.”

He turned her toward him and pulled her flush against his body. He tilted her head back and connected his lips to hers. The minute his mouth touched her, everything inside her went liquid. Dexter was as masterful as he was sexy, teasing her lips open and languidly thrusting his tongue inside.

He eased his tongue in and out, applying just enough pressure to drive her wild. A low moan climbed up Asia’s throat, fluttering past her lips. She drew her hands up his arms, to the back of his head, linking them behind his neck as she leaned into him.

Dexter shifted, wrapping his arm around her back and angling her down on the sofa. A hint of conscience popped up as his body covered hers, but Asia batted it away. This felt too good to stop. She would deal with the consequences later, after her need for Dexter and all he was making her feel had been satisfied.

He deepened his kiss, his tongue overpowering her senses in its brutally sensual assault.

In and out he stroked, circling her tongue, sucking it inside of his mouth. One of his hands remained on her back while the other traveled along her ribcage, settling on her right breast. Asia arched into him as his fingers squeeze and rubbed, his thumb abrading her tightening nipple through the fabric of her shirt and bra.

He slipped his other hand from her back and snaked it underneath her shirt. A painful groan escaped as his fingers played along the slope of her breast.

“Please,” Asia cried in a hoarse whisper.

His eyes connected with hers for the briefest moment before he pushed her shirt up and pulled down the satin bra cup. He lowered his head, sucking her nipple into his warm, moist mouth.

Asia’s eyes fluttered close as her hand clamped onto the back of his head, holding him prisoner against her breast. All of her senses focused on the incredible sensation of his teeth nipping at her, his tongue laving her, his other hand moving down her side, to her thigh.

His mouth still on her, he levered himself up a few inches and fumbled at the waistband of her jeans, unbuckling them and pulling down the zipper.

That fit of conscience reared its head again as the backs of his fingers grazed her stomach, telling her that this was moving too fast, but Asia refused to put a stop to it. She had not felt this wanted, this desired, in far too long.

Dexter’s fingers found their way inside the front of her panties.

“If you don’t want this to go further, you need to stop me right now,” he growled against her breast.

Asia bit her lip, daring herself to make a sound. She wanted to go as far as they both knew it could.

Dexter lifted his head to look her in the eyes. “Say the word, Asia.”

She shook her head. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes heated and his head lowered again. He pulled the other bra cup down and lavished her other breast with the same sensual attention he’d paid to the first. His fingers inched lower until they met that dampening spot between her legs. He ran his knuckles up and down the seam of her body, wrenching a moan from her.

“Oh, God, please don’t stop,” Asia breathed.

But, apparently, God had other plans. A sudden, loud knock at the door brought everything to a screeching halt.

“Asia, open up!” The frantic voice on the other side of the door belonged to her sister.

She pushed at Dexter’s chest and jumped up from the sofa, straightening her bra into place. She zipped up her jeans as she hurried down the steps and raced to her front door. She opened it to find her sister holding her dented bicycle helmet. Blood trailed down her forearm, and a nasty cut crossed her knee.

“India, what happened?” Asia asked, ushering her into the apartment.

“I got sideswiped.” India stopped short as Dexter appeared at the top of the staircase. “Oh, shit, what did I interrupt?”