Chapter 4
“Harder?” the sexy feminine voice asked, her breath tickling his ear.
“God, yes,” Jake moaned.
Go as hard as you want, baby. I can take it.
Her hands changed direction, gliding over his pecs and down his six pack, while her fingers teased his sides.
A woman’s hands on him was exactly what he needed after that race. Too bad it wasn’t the hands he wanted, he thought, remembering the way Georgia used to run her nails down his back in gentle scrapes—as if marking him as hers.
He’d never been anyone’s. Not even his parents’. They’d chosen to leave him to be raised by his grandparents. Not his sister, Rachel, just him—leaving him with a feeling of always being second. So being claimed by Georgia had been addicting.
“You’re really hard,” she said in a quiet voice. Her hands dropped to his hips. “We need to loosen you up a little.”
Crack.
“Jesus,” Jake hollered.
“You said hard,” said Jeanie, his physical therapist, her hands twisting his hips in opposite directions. Blood rushed to his head as the bone slid back into place.
Jake wasn’t one of those young guns anymore. At twenty-nine, his body couldn’t take the g-force of the car as easily as it used to.
But what a race. He’d taken first, leaving Henry in the dust and crossing the line with nearly six and a half seconds between them.
His focus hadn’t been this laser in months.
When he’d climbed into his car, it was as if they melded into one being.
Moved as one, his tires getting just the right amount of traction on the tarmac.
Singapore always brought the heat. At ninety-two degrees, with a humidity index of seventy-two percent, he’d lost eight pounds of water weight over the sixty-one laps. And his muscles felt it.
“How’s your shoulder?” Jeanie asked.
“Better than last week.”
“Magic hands,” she said and—
Right. Left. Right.
Crack.
Jake moaned in relief as the built-up pressure in his neck evaporated and the bones realigned. Then her hands slid up and around his shoulder blade, her thumbs digging deep into the muscle surrounding it.
Jeannie was one of the best in the industry.
Her chiropractic–deep massage combo was exactly what his body craved after a race weekend.
Between practice, qualifying, and the race, it was nonstop from Friday until Sunday.
And the intensity of the sport took its toll—on even the younger drivers. They just rebounded faster.
“Before you kick me out, I come in peace and—Oh God!”
He didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was Georgia.
In fact, her light scent hit his nose seconds before she’d said a word.
It was a smell of crisp winter nights and long-ago memories.
And something else, something he didn’t want to acknowledge.
Something that if he wasn’t careful might pop a wheelie beneath his shorts. And wouldn’t that be embarrassing.
“Do you even own clothes?” Georgia finished.
“Or maybe you just like interrupting me when I’m naked.”
“I’m Jeanie, Jake’s—”
“Oh my God. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She turned to leave.
“—Back cracker,” Jeanie finished with a laugh.
“Oh. I thought—never mind.”
Was that relief in Georgia’s tone? Interesting.
“Please don’t leave,” Jeanie said. “We were just finishing up. And he’s not naked. Although taking in the look you two are sharing, I’m going to excuse myself in case that is on today’s agenda.”
He could almost see the prim look on her face when Georgia said, “Oh no, this is strictly professional.”
“Uh huh.” Amusement lit Jeanie’s voice. “It was nice meeting you.” She looked at Jake, then Georgia, and bit back a smile before she sent Jake a wink and disappeared out the door.
The door suctioned shut. “What are you doing here?” Jack asked.
Georgia picked up his shirt off the bench and launched it at his head. He caught it midair. She rolled her eyes.
“Put it on.”
“As the lady wishes.”
He pulled his shirt on, ever so slowly.
She waved a hand down his front. “No need to show off for my sake. I’m not impressed.”
“Darlin’, every woman west of the Mississippi is impressed. East too for that matter.”
“Says who?”
He swung his legs over the side of the massage table and stood. “People magazine. US Weekly. Sports Illustrated. Playgirl. Shall I go on?”
“Jake, I’m not here to discuss your egotistic fantasies.”
The sound of his name sliding off her lips nearly did him in. “Then what fantasies did you come to discuss?”
She flapped her hands in exasperation. And damn, she was cute. “Can’t you be serious for even one second? It’s important.”
Something shook on her last few words. Something that had him sobering up.
He walked toward her and rested a hand on her shoulder. Sparks ignited. The surprise on her face told him she felt it too.
Not good.
He dropped his hand immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything.” She squeezed her eyes shut at the same time his throat squeezed shut.
“Tell me.”
“Things have changed.”
For the briefest of moments, he thought he was back in college, and she was coming to him to explain what had gone wrong, and that she wanted to try it again.
“I know you said you couldn’t commit to being the ambassador—”
Right, the endorsement. How could he have forgotten? His walls erected faster than his car with DSE.
“—But there is more on the line now.”
“What?”
“My boss gave me permission to take this idea and run with it. It can open up new avenues for fundraising.”
“And for you,” he said, because he wanted it all on the table. He wanted her to admit that she also had something to gain personally if he agreed.
“I’m not here for me.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Benjamin Peterson.”
An ache of uninvited envy stirred in his chest. “Who the fuck is Benjamin Peterson?”
“Ben is a ten-year-old boy with spina bifida who is going to spend what is most likely his last Christmas in and out of the hospital.”
Man, even hearing the words “spina bifida” sent a dull throb through his chest. And if it had that kind of impact on him, he could only imagine how Georgia felt.
It made him wonder how she did what she did—willingly jumping headfirst into the world of struggle, diagnosis, and inevitable death.
Where parents clung to their children, praying their family would be the lucky ones and beat the odds.
Jake only lived on the perimeter for a brief time, and he never wanted to go back. Ever.
But his discomfort was nothing compared to what Ben must face every day.
Then there was the woman who was asking. A woman who had never asked him for anything the entire time they’d been together.
“I’ll do it.”
“It’s just a few days out of your—what?” Her expression froze mid-sentence.
“I said, I’ll do it.”
“You will?” If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a mix of relief and apprehension in her voice. The relief he understood. But what was with the apprehension? The answer to that question was the only reason he could come up with for why he said, “On one condition.”
“Anything.” At his wicked smile she added, “I don’t even know why I came here. I thought you’d take this seriously and—”
He took her hand in his. “I am. Which is why I will be the ambassador for the project.”
If her jaw dropped any further it would’ve needed a leash. “All of it?”
“The gala, the auction, the shoot, and Ben’s party. The whole sha-bang.”
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What’s the catch?”
“I’ll need a handler from The Wish Project to accompany me to every event.”
“Done.” She stuck out her hand to shake it.
“Every event.”
“Of course.”
“Even if I piss them off, they can’t bail.”
She looked at him with disdain. “Anything else?”
“It has to be you.”
She dropped his hand as if it were made of hot lava. “Absolutely not. There is no way in hell I am spending Christmas with you.”
“Don’t worry, our agreement ends on the twenty-third, so you’ll have plenty of time to spend it with your family.” The second the words came out of his mouth he realized what he’d said. She didn’t have family. They were all gone. She was alone. “I just meant—”
She took a big step back—physically and emotionally. “This is a bad idea.”
“You wouldn’t let a little boy miss out on meeting his real-life hero.”
“How in the world do you always turn it around to be about you?”
“Do you want to talk about that night?” he asked abruptly, not sure what he was hoping she’d say.
“Nope.”
“Good,” he said, but his chest pinched with surprising disappointment. “I’ll have my grandma put fresh sheets on the bed.”
“I’ll rent a room in town.”
“I don’t think you and Pine Village share the same definition of ‘a room for rent,’”
“I’ll manage.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” he said. “What time is it? Can I see your phone?”
She stuck up her phone, and he snatched it, held it up to her face and unlocked it. She tried to grab it back, but he was taller. He swiped through her phone, every which way. She reached for it again and again; he held it over her head.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you my contact info.”
“I have your contact info.”
“You have the number I give to people I don’t want to talk to. This is my personal info.”
“This isn’t personal.” She reached for it again. He was faster.
He lifted a brow. “I’m half naked, seems pretty up close and personal to me.”
She folded her arms but tapped her foot to show her annoyance.
Finished, he handed it back. “I’m number one on your favorites list.”
She looked down at the screen and rolled her eyes. “Seriously, you put it under ‘Every Time’ Evans?”
He grinned. “I figured with our history first names aren’t needed.”
His phone pinged. She glanced at his screen.
“You sent yourself my info, didn’t you?”
“You have mine. Fair is fair.”
“I didn’t want you to have mine.”
“Can’t have you disappearing on me, now, can I?”
“Maybe back then you weren’t ‘Every Time’ Evans. In fact, stats show that eighty percent of women admit to faking it. So statistically, Mr. Math Guy, eight of the last ten women you were with didn’t get the ‘every time’ experience.”
“The ones who matter in that example of yours are the people I care for. And you, my dear, are a terrible liar. Now, the next time we negotiate either I need to be clothed—or you need to be naked. I prefer option two.”