Chapter Twelve
Stacia stared atthe plain white door of Jason’s condo. She hadn’t been to his condo all weekend, leaving him and his mother to have time together. She had seen Celia at the stadium during the game, even shared dinner with them before Celia left Sunday night, but she needed space and didn’t return with Jason after dropping his mother off at the airport. He had looked confused, maybe even hurt, but the expression was masked so quickly, she wasn’t even sure she’d seen it. They had things to do, interviews to prepare for, and it was time to get back on track. Professionally speaking.
Personally speaking, well that was a whole other ballgame. She was quickly getting in over her head. What had started as a business plan, quickly morphed into a much more personal situation. The big question she had was, what was his perspective? Was she a convenient outlet for sex? Or was she something more?
Sleeping with a client was always a big no-no. She was riding a thin edge, her impartiality was compromised and everyone knew it. They were giving her latitude or was it rope to hang herself? If word got out that she slept with clients, she’d be ruined. She was pushing the envelope on this one and for what? A job she wasn’t even sure she wanted anymore? Or a relationship that may not survive another month? Or was it just great sex?
Damned if she knew what it was, or what she wanted.
Next on the agenda was coaching him through his ESPN interview later that day. Jason was a tough interview on a good day. Being up half the night after a Sunday night game was going to make him be a nightmare.
She steeled her spine and rapped on the condo door, firmly and loudly, the sound echoing in the bare spaces on the other side. After what seemed to be an eternity, the door was flung open and a rumpled and incredibly gorgeous Jason stood on the other side. He looked like sex and sin all rolled into one, wearing only a pair of boxers that left little to her imagination. Her mouth went dry at the full display of manhood and she wished she had time to explore it more thoroughly.
When she finally lifted her eyes up, his gaze skewered her from beneath scowling eyebrows and bed-head. “What the hell do you want?”
“And a good morning to you too! I brought breakfast.” She hoisted the donut bag and waved it under his nose. “Going without regular sex makes you grumpy.”
“There’d better be coffee too.”
“Here you go, grump.” He snatched the cup from her, careful not to spill anything and then hooked his foot around the door to slam it.
Stacia wedged herself firmly in the doorway, then bent back and picked up two grocery bags on the ground. “And something for later.” She pushed past him and walked down the hall into the kitchen, almost tripping over one of the boxes askew in the hallway. “Jeez, Jason. These are a menace. Can’t you move them? Maybe, I don’t know, unpack?”
“I won’t be here that long,” he muttered around a sip of coffee.
“Doesn’t mean you have to live out of boxes. Make it a home or something.”
“But it’s not my home,” he replied, following her into the kitchen. “It’s where I’m living until the season ends.”
She plopped the bags on the counter and turned to face him, hands planted on her hips. “Then what?”
He opened the bag with one hand and pulled out the donuts. He flicked his wrist and the bag fell to the ground. Kicking it to the side, he crossed the kitchen and perched on the bar stool.
She glanced at the paper then back at him. “I suppose you expect me to pick it up?”
He grinned, a boyish, charming grin with a hint of wickedness in his eyes. “Up to you. I don’t care.”
She stared at him for a few moments longer then huffed, annoyed at being relegated back to a servant, an employee, and not a lover. “You don’t care about a lot of things, Jason. Your home, your teammates, your fans. What do you care about?”
“I care about the sport. Baseball. That’s my life. This place, it’s not mine. It’s a temporary place, only slightly more permanent than a hotel room. My teammates? Half of them will be gone next year, on new teams, and so will I. And my fans? Where were they when the shit hit the fan? Gone. Like everyone else. Why should I give a damn about any one of them?”
She winced at the bitterness in his tone, could see it in the way he hunched in his chair, almost physically recoiling, and she couldn’t help herself. A small part of her shoutedstopbut another side of her reacted to the pain and loneliness and had to reach out, his pain a reflection of her own lonely years growing up the daughter of Senator Kendall and the responsibilities that went along with it.
She touched him on the shoulder intending to comfort but her hands slid across his back and to the other side. She leaned into him and hugged him, his muscles rigid under her embrace, tension radiating from his stance. Did he ever let himself go? Ever have anyone to just be himself with? Her heart ached at the pain in him. She pressed a tiny kiss to his shoulder, an innocent, light butterfly kiss, then laid her head on his neck. A shudder coursed through his body, but before he could push her away, she released him and stepped away to the other side of the counter and starting unpacking the grocery bags.
She worked in silence, while Jason brooded on the stool. When she pulled out a steak and a bag of vegetables, he grabbed her hand.
“What are you doing with that?”
“I’m putting food in the fridge. I thought it would be nice to have a home-cooked meal one night instead of restaurant or stadium food.” Maybe the stick would slide out of his ass and he would relax, go back to the fun Jason she was falling in love with.
Oh shit. As the thought registered, her knees weakened and she sagged against the counter. In love? Since when was this love and not business? This feeling was what everyone warned her about, why they were all so concerned. And she went ahead and did it anyway. She was so screwed and she didn’t care.
Oblivious as usual, Jason continued to complain. “Who’s going to cook it? I don’t even know if the stove works.”
She shook her head, amused at his attitude. “I’ll cook it, tonight after your interview. If you’re very good.”
His scowl returned at the mention of the interview. He tossed the empty coffee cup in the kitchen garbage. “I thought we agreed that interviews were a waste of time.”