Going For It, Page 2

  “Fine, it’s a date thingy then.”

  “Great, pick you up at 7:00.”

  “7:15.”

  Jake wore down her defenses and he’d gained a lot of yards on this play so he’d let her have this. “Be ready.”

  Chapter 3

  Hannah meditated as Brooke, make-up artist extraordinaire, put the finishing touches onto the face People Magazine named to their most beautiful list. Without the special effects like airbrushing, and the proper lighting she could be the girl next door. The reality of what it took to create an image that women aspired to be amounted to a magic show. Hannah never left the house with what she called her ‘face’. She’d never get caught on one those Stars Without Makeup pages. Jake had been the only man ever to see her sans make-up. To his credit, he didn’t even seem to notice and would ravage her in the morning light. Except this morning, of course, but she knew he was trying to prove a point. That she wanted him.

  Nerves tightened inside her stomach. The man always set her on edge. Of course it could just be hunger pangs. Yes, that’s all it was.

  The doorbell rang, and she pictured her assistant Nate, dressed in black skinny jeans and a neon green blazer, answering the door and then Jake impatiently glancing at his watch, upset that he had to kill time in her living room, especially after ordering her to be ready. He’d wait and he won’t complain one bit. Not once he laid eyes on her. She was pulling out all the stops.

  “All done.”

  Hannah peered into the adeptly named vanity mirror. “You’re truly an artist, Brooke. In every sense of the title Make-up Artist.”

  “Please, you’re not a challenge.”

  “I barely look like I’m wearing any.”

  Brooke was a beauty in her own right but was several inches shorter than the average model. “Well, yes that is the trick.”

  “See? Genius. The Leonardo Da Vinci of the make-up world.”

  “Hmmm, maybe I should put that on my business card,” said Brooke as she packed up her case filled with the tools of the trade.

  Nate opened the door and poked his head in. “He’s pacing. He reminds me of a Latino Rhett Butler.”

  Hannah shook her head. “What? He’s bald. No moustache. And I don’t think he’s even Latino.” Jake’s light caramel color starkly contrasted with Hannah’s almost ghost like skin. A fleeting picture of what their children would look like faded before it could fully form.

  “Whatever. He’s yummy all the same. Besides it’s all in the attitude.” Nate snapped his fingers.

  Brooke closed up her case. “Oh, I have to check him out before I leave.” She rushed out of the bedroom as Nate entered.

  “You know if you’re going to keep this one you should think about changing the décor of your boudoir.” Nate helped her with the clasp of a pink diamond necklace.

  Hannah glanced around the room and noted the frilly lace pillows, pink walls, and sparkly chandelier. “Who said I’m keeping him?” Walking over to the huge full-length mirror propped up against the wall she added, “Besides, if you ask him what color my walls are he wouldn’t be able to tell you.”

  Nate came to stand beside her. “You look like a life-sized Barbie doll,” said Nate.

  “And in my living room is my so-not-like-Ken doll.”

  “Thank God. Ken is not anatomically correct.”

  A naughty smiled appeared on Hannah’s face. “Jake is beyond correct.”

  “Don’t make me hate you, girl,” said Nate with dramatic flair.

  “Hannah!” bellowed Jake from the living room.

  “I wouldn’t keep him waiting any longer. He’ll come in here and get you himself.”

  Hannah laughed. “Can’t let him ruin my grand entrance.” She twirled out of the room pretending she was in the middle of a fairy tale. As long as she didn’t expect a happy ever after at the end she could pretend all she wanted.

  “Your lat—”

  Hannah performed her Red Carpet pose. The overhead lights danced off the sparkles of the deep pink dress. “You were saying?”

  Jake slowly approached her—no, not so much as approached as in stalked. He reached out and curled a tendril escaping the upswept ponytail around his thick finger and rubbed the texture with his thumb. Then he stepped in closer. Hannah couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He had frozen his prey and all he had to do was go in for the kill.

  “You’re the beauty to my beast, Hannah.”

  A thrill shot up her body and settled in her chest making it hard to breathe. Jake may act like a caveman from time to time, and though he sported an Armani black tuxedo with a dark, gray silk shirt he still looked like a bad boy, but he was no beast. He only proved her right when he unwound the strands and caressed her cheek as if she were a delicate orchid.

  She leaned into the caress for a moment, savoring his touch on her skin, scared to tell him she thought he was gorgeous and sexy but then opened her eyes and bravely admitted, “You’re handsome.”

  Jake’s tongue slid along his lips like a wolf ready to devour it’s prey. “I’m glad you think so, but I was referring to how I’m feeling on the inside.”

  Under the influence of his low, sultry voice, Hannah’s knees buckled and she thought she might actually swoon. Now she understood Nate’s Rhett Butler comparison. Get a grip. This isn’t some 20th century romance novel. I just need to breathe. Or perhaps it was those hunger pangs causing her to feel faint.

  “Baby doll, if you don’t stop staring at me like I’m your next meal I won’t be responsible for another torn gown.”

  “Sounds like I’m going to need a leash.”

  Jake shook his head no. “You’re going to need chains.”

  Chains? But all he needed to enslave her was his words.

  He brushed a light kiss across her frosted lipstick. “Hell, maybe even a whip.”

  His kiss deepened and so did her growing need. He was probably ruining all of Brooke’s hard work but Hannah didn’t care. Make-up could be re-touched. If only the heart could be so easily mended then maybe she’d risk loving Jake.

  “Seriously Hannah, you’re going to have to be the strong one here or we’ll never leave,” he said in a thick whisper.

  Fueled with feminine power, Hannah stepped back and pulled him to the door, adding a sashay in her step and laughed when Jake practically grunted.

  Once settled in the limo she asked him if he wanted champagne, which he declined with a shake of his head. “I’m a scotch man.”

  Hannah sipped from the flute since she didn’t know what to say. They never really talked before. Their past relationship—if you can call a one-week affair a relationship—had been solely based on sex. The one time they talked seriously was the one time they argued and then promptly broke up. Jake fiddled with his tie and she supposed he struggled with the right words as well. If only their minds connected as well as their bodies joined together. “I wonder what Samantha and Ryan are doing,” she ventured.

  “What I’d rather be doing to you right now.”

  “Oh.” His words conjured visions of last night. Of his hands sliding possessively over her body. Of his mouth claiming hers. Of him entering her gently. It hadn’t felt like sex. Well, the second time hadn’t. The first time—oh yeah, definitely hot and raw sex.

  Silence descended again and so did Hannah’s nerves. Maybe she was kidding herself. Just because Jake triggered explosive orgasms deep within the well of her being didn’t mean anything other than that he had a lot of practice. Once football season started he’d probably go back to his low-maintenance, groupie bimbos. Stop thinking! Talk. Say anything. Just stop thinking!

  “Nate thought you were Latino,” she blurted.

  “Did he?”

  “Yeah. So I was wondering—”

  “Does it matter?”

  Hurt filled her heart. “Well, no, obviously it doesn’t. I was just making conversation.” She wouldn’t admit it to him now but she was trying to get to know him. Other than his occupation, gift for ma
king women melt and mixing up a batch of waffles that would make any woman sigh, Hannah knew nothing about him. And he brushed off her first attempt to reach out to him. Obviously she was a trophy. Just shut up and look pretty Hannah. She looked out the window before Jake could see the tears welling up.

  “Hey, Hannah. Don’t get mad. Growing up I put up with a lot of shit. Didn’t know where I belonged. Even within my own family.” Jake reached out and tilted her face back to his. “I didn’t want to think it made a difference to you.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “Are those tears?”

  “No.”

  Jake didn’t call her on the lie, merely brushed away a lone drop with his thumb. “I’m quarter Black, quarter Italian, and the other half so mixed up I make a mutt out of the pound look like a candidate for the Westminster Dog Show,” he said adding a laugh.

  But Hannah didn’t find it funny. “You’re exotic. Perfect.” How could anyone think otherwise?

  “Men can’t be exotic. Now what about you Miss American Pie?”

  “Hardly. My father’s side is from Russia. I even speak Russian.” Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask about her mother, who was from the former white ruling class of South Africa when she immigrated to the States. He’d think that his racial background did matter and it didn’t to her. Her mother? That was a different story.

  “Really?”

  “I can do more than pose, you know.” Annoyance lit her voice. She was tired of everyone thinking she was a dumb blonde.

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “In fact, I speak Spanish fluently and can converse in Japanese.” Hannah had an ear for languages that she discovered while on modeling assignments around the world. And boy oh boy she was big in Japan where she’d done several commercials.

  “Impressive. Say something in Russian for me.” Jake took her hand and interlocked their fingers.

  The connection reminded her of last night, of their long limbs entwining until it seemed as if they were one person. Her heart leapt as if it were trying to escape the box she sealed it away in. She feared Jake had solved the riddle to open it. So she said to him what she couldn’t say in English. “Я падаю для вас,” she said with her best Russian accent.

  “That is so sexy. What does it mean?”

  I’m falling for you. Hannah wasn’t about to reveal the true meaning of the words. “It means I want to sit on your face.”

  Jake’s deep laughter filled the confined space. “Later,” he promised. The limo pulled up to the Red Carpet. “Do you think we’ll land one of those smashed up names like Bradgalina?” he grimaced.

  Hannah blinked and her stomach dropped. It’d been a long time since she’d been romantically linked with a man and it seemed like Jake wasn’t relishing his upcoming role either. The media circus was about to begin. Shaking off the dread, she reached for her phone, deciding to beat the paparazzi at their own game. “Wait Jake.” She waved the phone in the air. He put his arm around her, their heads touched as she held the phone out. With his musky cologne lighting up her erogenous zones it was hard to concentrate on posing. She snapped the photo and then retrieved the picture to view it. It passed inspection and she tweeted it to the world.

  “How many followers do you have?”

  “Something like 2 million.”

  “Most of them men, I bet,” said Jake as he got out of the limo and held out his hand.

  Hannah didn’t know if that was a rhetorical question or not and besides she didn’t know the answer. Tweeting about makeup tips and dating advice she doubted Jake’s assumption. She placed her hand in his and slid out carefully so that the slit on her dress didn’t expose the lace panty thong she wore underneath.

  The flashing lights blinded her for a moment as the paparazzi rushed to get a shot of the new couple. Still holding her hand, they walked a few feet until the shouts of the photographers forced them to stop for another photo. Then like any good escort on the red carpet, Jake stepped aside to allow Hannah to be photographed alone. Even though he was within arms reach she missed him being right by her side. A camera crew and interviewer stepped up to Jake. “Jake Miller, Super Bowl MVP with Supermodel Hannah Hahn! How long has this been going on?”

  Hannah pretended to ignore the question as she held her smile but did side step a bit closer to listen to Jake’s response as the interviewer held out the microphone.

  “I loved Hannah from afar for a long time.”

  Oh he was good.

  “Tell us what’s your favorite part of Hannah’s body?” the interviewer asked in a tone better suited to conspirators.

  Hannah’s mouth dropped slightly but she quickly recovered hoping no one caught it on camera. She turned to glance at Jake and caught his annoyed gaze before he slowly took in her form.

  “Hmmm, so much to choose from.”

  She blushed and looked away to finish up with the photographers.

  “But I have to say it’s her heart.”

  Her heart? Her eyes bugged out. Oh my God that was going to be an unattractive photo. And of course that would be the one to hit the papers. How she kept a smile plastered to her face as Jake continued to praise her work with the Wounded Warriors Project could only be attributed to her many years in front of the camera.

  How did he know? She didn’t get a chance to tell Jake. In fact, she never spoke about her charity work to anyone unless she was running an event like tonight.

  Her heart? Not her boobs, or legs. Nor any of the other various parts of her body that sold products to millions of women. My heart. Finished with posing Hannah turned away from the paparazzi and as Jake took a step closer so did she and before she knew what she was doing, planted a big kiss on his lips.

  Chapter 4

  The heat of the flashbulbs was nothing compared to the scorch of Hannah’s lips. He lied when he said his favorite body part was her heart. Not that Hannah, try as she might to hide her tender side, didn’t have a huge heart behind the voluptuous breasts that spilled out of the Victoria Secret bras she modeled. If he were being truthful, he would’ve said her pouting lips shaped like a bow drove him wild.

  But he wasn’t about to tell that ass of an interviewer whose sexist question objectified Hannah as a plaything. Perhaps this explained her fixation on her looks.

  By her unbridled response he’d say he won some brownie points with his answers. Though he hoped she didn’t read anything into his statement that he loved her from a far. Women, he knew, could make up a whole story from one innocent sentence.

  The kiss ended as spontaneously as it began and he told himself it was the flash of the cameras that stunned him and not the luscious lips breaking away from his. But as she stepped back he believed for a moment that the smile on her face was for him alone and not for the paparazzi. The bluest of eyes shone back at him like he was her whole world. It seemed women weren’t the only ones who could make up a story. Back to reality Jake.

  She tugged on his sleeve to move inside. The simple gesture pulled at his heart and he reminded himself how easily she tossed him aside after the silliest of arguments. He barely survived it and they had only been together for a week. He’d planned to walk away after last night even if it meant alienating his best friend’s new wife. But like a recovering addict presented with his first temptation after a long stint in rehab, he relapsed.

  Jake believed a good offense was a good defense, so while he foolishly planned to see this to the final play, he’d re-evaluate his game plan and shore up the blocks around his heart. Big, badass running back brought down low by a mere kiss.

  He followed Hannah’s lead into the ballroom keeping his hand splayed across the small of her back. A gesture more to center them in the sea of celebrities piling in like it was the Academy Awards, than an act of possession.

  Hannah had a lot of pull, though a celebrity would be committing career suicide by turning down an invite to a Wounded Warriors Project fundraiser. Once inside she turned to him. “Um, I do have
to mingle. Do you want to make the rounds with me?”

  “You go ahead.” Jake had no desire to be introduced as Hannah’s latest. “I see some of the guys.”

  “Okay.” Hannah shrugged.

  “Unless you want me to?” In front of the world Hannah appeared confident but when they were alone she let down her guard and he could feel the uncertainty radiating from her.

  “No. Go have a good time.”

  He approached his teammates who were more comfortable in a group than working the room.

  “Twenty-four hours and she hasn’t dumped you yet,” said Glock, the other running back who gunned for Jake’s starting role each year.

  The muscle in Jake’s jaw twitched and he quickly smiled so not to let on how much the dig hurt.

  “So are they real?” asked Todd, the quarterback. “You never did tell us.”

  Usually he’d answer with a crude remark. Hell, he’d offer up information. But Hannah was different. Hell, he was different when he was with her. Saying things he would never say, feeling things he’d never felt.

  “Can’t understand why she’s with you,” jibed Glock. “It’s not like she needs your money.”

  “I bet she rakes in more than you,” said Todd.

  That did not bother him. He hated gold diggers who were the worst kind of woman. After a knee injury sidelined him during his junior year in college his girlfriend of two years went after a more profitable target, his team’s quarterback. During the long rehab back into playing shape he vowed he’d never let another woman get under his skin. It was a vow he kept until Hannah embedded herself into every pore of his being.

  But if she wasn’t after his money then what was she after? Despite her humble upbringing she fit right in with the high society crowd that saw him as an uncouth thug. They would assume he coasted on classes like basket weaving instead of earning dual degrees in Pre-Law and Business Administration.

  When his body was used up and his playing days were over so were the parties and fame. And the women. So many women. Man, he was a pig. And a hypocrite for thinking the interviewer was an ass.