I punch his chest and find myself laughing along with him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You guys should patent that brand of guilt.” He settles his hands at my hips and most of the humor flees as fast as it came. “I know we process right and wrong differently, but I refuse to believe what happened between us was wrong, and I don’t think you staying in a relationship that might never be what Zo wanted would have been right. I think we do things and we live with the consequences. We make the best decisions we can with what we have; with what we feel and know, and live through the fallout if it comes.”
“That’s how you get through . . .” the word mistakes stalls in my mouth “. . . decisions that hurt other people?”
“I live through those things by caring less,” he says. “And I know that isn’t an option for you.”
A humorless chuckle strangles in my throat. “Um . . . no. That isn’t likely for me.”
“But it’s one of the things I like about you most.”
Surprise gives me pause and has me staring at him like he has two heads.
“We’re often drawn to our opposite, right?” He lowers his head to nip my earlobe, sending a shudder skittering over my spine. “Saying I’m drawn to you would be putting it mildly.”
It pleases me, how easily he tells me he wants me. His frank appreciation after years of self-doubt in varying shapes and forms feels good. Not that Zo wasn’t up front about how attracted he was to me, or that I haven’t been with other men who told me they liked my ass or my breasts or my brain or my drive or . . . whatever. I feel in this moment when Jared looks down at me that he sees all of me at a glance. He takes in all my disparate parts, synthesizes them and is pleased with the whole. I’ve always felt seen with him, understood and accepted in a way that almost frightens me.
“I have an idea,” he says after a few seconds of us standing in the circle of each other’s arms, quietly, contentedly.
“This sounds dangerous.” I lift my head from his shoulder and peer up at him.
“I have to go to the Virgin Islands on a recruiting trip,” he says. “You should come with me.”
“Oh, so you need my help signing a new client?” I joke. “Cal wouldn’t be very happy about me working for the enemy.”
He slides my hand down between us and presses it to an impressive erection.
“This is the only thing I need your help with,” he says. “Let me know when you’re ready to do me a solid.”
My face burns, but I laugh and slowly—maybe slower than necessary—pull my hand away.
“You wouldn’t happen to be visiting Richard Tillman, would you?” I ask to shift the conversation to less flammable ground.
Tillman is a guaranteed first-rounder next year.
“Maybe,” he says slyly. “He might be the best thing coming from the Islands since Tim Duncan. Maybe once I’m done working, we could play a little.”
My teasing grin wilts around the edges. It’s fast. I was practically catatonic on my couch, depressed about Zo yesterday, and already Jared has spent the night and wants us to go on a romantic getaway.
“I don’t know.” I step away and turn my back to sort the workout clothes I set into chaos. “I have a lot of work to do.”
“You always have work to do.” He presses his hand over mine, staying the unnecessary task. “We both do. I can’t even remember my last vacation, Ban. Can you?”
I don’t answer. It has been a long time, and my body is aching for some rest. The biggest contract in my off-season cut me loose last night in more ways than one. Everything else feels manageable. I could afford a few days.
“How long are you thinking?”
And as if reading my mind he says, “A few days, maybe a week, and you can have your own room, if you want.”
We stare at one another, and the heat, the clawing hunger that possessed us in my office, rears and roars long enough to remind me my best intentions tend to run amok where this man is concerned. But I’ve already hurt Zo, driven him out of the agency. Things may have been painful, but they’ve gotten simpler. I want Jared and he wants me. It’s worth exploring, and now I can.
“My own room sounds great,” I finally agree.
“Your own room sounds redundant.” He laughs and shoots me a knowing look. “But we’ll cross that burning bridge when we get to it.”
27
Jared
I just signed one of next season’s colossal talents. His potential in the NBA has no ceiling. Lebron kind of impact. Signing this kid to Elevation may be the greatest coup in our young company’s history. I’d typically be crowing to August and already on the phone priming the endorsement pump with Nike and Gatorade. Those things can wait.
How often do you get a second chance at something truly great? Something you couldn’t fully appreciate at the time because you hadn’t yet experienced what the world had to offer and found it lacking? Hadn’t been with countless women only to always find your mind drifting back to that one who got away?
Now that the one who got away is sunbathing by the pool of a borrowed St. John villa, what do I do with her? I’m not screwing this up. I have to be patient and give her time to adjust to this Zo thing. Give her time to get over how things ended between them and time to forgive herself. Hell, maybe forgive me. I made no secret of the fact that I didn’t care about her relationship, didn’t acknowledge or respect it. Does that make me bad? Maybe, but I wanted Banner back and I have her. No one will convince me I shouldn’t have pursued her. I want her too much. I always have. Never more than right now.
If I finally have a week with Banner Morales, it won’t be in some hotel where I have to act civilized for other people. One of my fellow prospects from The Pride, who actually made it in, owns this villa in the Virgin Islands. Private. Secluded. I may not have joined The Pride, but I did make a few lifelong friends who come in handy regularly. He and Bent were two of the good apples in a barrel full of rotten ones.
Banner has scooped all her hair up, and she’s lying by the pool. Topless.