night, when they’d gotten back to Seth’s place, they’d gone for a swim to cool off. In the silky waters of the pool, beneath a starry sky, Rand had taken her into his arms and kissed her the way she’d dreamed of him kissing her. Deeply, erotically, hungrily.
But then he’d climbed out of the pool and taken off as if he’d burned himself. Ouch.
The next day, he’d reverted to the big-brother treatment, not touching her, no matter how much she’d wanted him to. That, more than anything, had probably been what drove her to make the craziest mistake of her young life.
They’d been celebrating her birthday at a big party at a private beach house, and Rand had come along. When he had gone to bed, Emily snuck into his room. She’d hoped he’d only been staying away until she was eighteen and officially an adult, and would be awake and waiting for her.
He hadn’t been. He’d been sound asleep.
But that hadn’t stopped her. Wanting to prove that she was not just the cute kid he thought she was—but, instead, the wild woman she dreamed of being—she’d stripped naked and climbed into bed with him. He’d woken up to a clinging, wanton, naked girl kissing him. And while he’d used all the right words to protest, insisting three years was too big an age difference between them and that he wouldn’t take advantage of his agent’s sister, his body told her he wasn’t immune to her. Not one bit.
She’d thrown pitch after pitch at him. With desperate, sensual caresses, she’d invited him to step up to the plate and take a swing, until at last, he’d picked up the bat. Rand might be a shortstop, but that night he’d rounded the bases, sliding into third as if he’d just hit a triple play in Game 7 of the World Series. He’d taught her things about her own body that she hadn’t even dreamed of, proving that mouth of his was good for a lot more than smiling.
It had been perfect. Wonderful. Literally orgasmic. And if there were any justice in the world, he would have sunk into her thoroughly aroused body and made her his in every way possible. She should have been left with a magical memory of the most amazing entry into womanhood any girl had ever experienced.
Instead, her brother had burst in. The overprotective ump had stopped the play at third, ended the game and shipped her back to the minor leagues.
Rand had gone on to be a superstar and a superstud, and she’d resumed being the good, quiet girl who didn’t make waves or take many chances. She could probably say she’d been his very first groupie. That’s apparently how he’d viewed her, judging by his utter silence and lack of response to any of her messages. Ugh.
“I got it!” he suddenly chortled, snapping her out of her uncomfortable trip down memory lane.
She glanced down; he had, indeed, disengaged the lock. The cuff she’d been holding had popped open. The other one was still attached to the bed, but at least now Rand knew it could be done. “That’s good. Now you can crawl under the bed and disengage the other side.”
“I will.
“Where’d you go just then?” He’d obviously noticed that she’d drifted away from their conversation into a past she’d tried hard to forget. “Just remembering all the things I still have to do today. I really should go. Please excuse the inconvenience, Mr. McConnell.”
He held tightly to her hand, stopping her. “That’s lame.”
“What?”
“Mr. McConnell? Please. You’ve called me by my first name since the day we met. Remember, you kept calling me Randy?”
If the adjective fits... Of course, it took one to know one. She’d more than earned that adjective all on her own, at least whenever she was around him.
“Well, we’re not exactly the people we were then, are we?”
“I am.”
She snorted. “Right. You’re just the same young, hungry baseball player, only you have seventeen cars, a Learjet, a beach house and a Swiss villa.”
“Where do you get this stuff?” he asked with an eye-roll. “Have you started reading the tabloids?”
“The point is, we’re nothing like we once were, and since you’re a guest at the hotel where I am employed, I’ll stick to Mr. McConnell.”
She tried again to get up, but again he kept her hand entwined with his, stopping her. “Don’t leave.”
“I have work to do. And I suspect that, handcuffs notwithstanding, the suite should be acceptable, even to a superstar of your caliber.”
“The suite’s fine,” he said, edging closer. Close enough that she felt the warmth radiating off his big body, and had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.
Big mistake. Those green eyes captivated her—they always had. Rand had a way of looking at a woman as if he couldn’t see anyone else. He was staring at her that way right now, as if he could gaze at her for hours and never tire of the view.
“God, you grew up to be one hell of a beautiful woman, Emily Crowder.” His voice was thick, throaty, filled with something she could now identify as hunger.
Rand wanted her. He desired her.
The realization shocked her for a moment, though it shouldn’t have. He’d certainly wanted her the last time they’d been together. Just not enough to contact her once her brother had forced them apart.
Big brother’s not here now, though.
She was all alone—on a bed—with the man of her dreams.
And no clue what she was going to do about it.
EMILY LOST HERSELF to possibility for a moment, imagining what might happen if she got rid of all the anger and self-doubt and just threw herself into Rand’s arms. He’d be willing, of that she was sure. In fact, his expression said he was aware of what was going through her mind and hoped she’d come to the decision he wanted her to reach.
But she quickly snapped herself out of it. Gulping, she insisted, “I have to get out of here.”
Rand ignored her, lifting a hand and brushing his fingertips across her cheek. “I knew you would be beautiful; you always were. But, Jesus, when you crawled out from under that bed, I almost had a heart attack.”
“Please don’t remind me,” she mumbled. She wasn’t sure it was better that she’d totally humiliated herself in front of Rand instead of a complete stranger. If only she’d heard him coming in—but the penthouse was huge. She’d never heard the door, never suspected she wasn’t alone until he spoke.
“It’s not something I’m ever going to forget.”
“I wish I could.” She forced a bright smile. “Anyway, duty calls. Please don’t hesitate to contact the front desk if you need anything during your stay.”
That had sounded good—calm, professional, unaffected. Somebody who didn’t know her, who wouldn’t have noticed the telltale flush in her
