Читать книгу Maverick Millionaires - Joss Wood - Страница 9

Prologue

Rory Kydd, dressed in a too-small T-shirt and battered pajama bottoms, walked into the kitchen of her sister’s luxurious kitchen and looked at the dark screen of the TV sitting on the counter.

Her best friend, Troy, had texted to tell her the Vancouver Mavericks had won and there had been high drama during the post-game interview. She was tempted to turn on the TV to see what he was talking about but, because she had a paper due and exams looming—and because she was trying not to think about one Maverick player in particular—she decided to have a cup of coffee and go back to the books. But even if she didn’t give in to temptation, it couldn’t be denied, team newbies Kade Webb, Quinn Rayne and Mark “Mac” McCaskill were a handful both on and off the ice, and Vancouver had three new heroes.

Three young, unfairly talented and, it had to be said, stupidly good-looking heroes.

And the best-looking of the bunch, in her opinion, was dating her older sister Shay.

Rory poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned her butt against the counter. Shay and Mac made perfect sense, she told herself. Again. Shay was a model and a TV presenter. Mac was the supertalented, superfine center for the city’s beloved hockey team. They were the perfect age, she was twenty-three and Mac a year older, and, according to the press, because they were both beautiful and successful, a perfect match.

It was all perfectly perfect.

Except that Rory wasn’t convinced.

And that wasn’t because Mac made her toes tingle and her stomach jump. It had nothing to do with her insane attraction to the man. No, she’d spent enough time around Shay and Mac to see the cracks in their relationship, to know the bloom was off the rose and Shay was acting like a loon. Judging by Mac’s wary, closed-off expression whenever Rory saw them together, Shay had him on the Crazy Express.

Rory would bet her last dollar Shay was feeling desperate, calling and texting relentlessly whenever they were apart. Since they both had such demanding careers, they were apart a lot.

Rory knew why Shay was insecure, why she couldn’t trust a man. Rory had grown up in the same house as Shay. The difference between them was that Shay kept hoping there was one man out there who could be faithful and monogamous.

Rory was pretty damn sure that, like unicorns and the yeti, such a creature didn’t exist.

Rory scowled and wrapped her hands around her mug. Shay hadn’t told Mac why she was acting crazy, Rory was pretty sure of that. To complicate matters further, Rory and Mac had somehow become friends. Sadly, that was all they could ever be. He was too good-looking, too much of a celebrity, too far out of her league. She was a college student. He was a successful player, both on and off the ice... Oh, and that other little thing—he was her sister’s boyfriend!

Besides all that, Mac treated Rory as he would a younger sister. He teased her, argued with her and made her laugh. So she’d caught him watching her with a brooding look on that sexy face once or twice but she wasn’t an idiot, she knew it didn’t mean anything. He’d probably wanted to talk to her about Shay, wanted advice on how to deal with her volatility. Rory never wanted to have that conversation.

A couple of nights ago, he’d given her a lift home from work and she’d been surprised when he didn’t mention Shay. Why he’d waited for Rory to finish her waitressing shift was still a mystery but sitting in his sports car, shoulder to shoulder, saying next to nothing, had been the best twenty minutes of her life.

He’d walked her to the door of her lousy apartment building—the same building that currently had no heat—and he’d stood there looking down at her. Something in his expression had heat swirling in her stomach; he’d looked like a man about to kiss a woman. But she knew that had to be her imagination working overtime. He was dating Shay, tall, slim, stunning.

But, just for a moment, she’d thought he’d wanted to kiss her, to taste her, to yank her into his arms... Rory sighed. It wasn’t possible. He was dating her sister. He was permanently off-limits; messing in Shay’s relationship was a line she would not cross. Thinking about Mac, like that, was a flight of fancy she had no right to take. Enough of that now.

Rory heard the front door open and she waited for Shay’s yell that she was home. It didn’t come, and Rory heard heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, a tread that couldn’t possibly belong to her sister. The saliva in her mouth dried up and her heart rolled; there was only one other person who had a key to Shay’s apartment and he was the one person Rory didn’t want to be alone with.

In her pajamas, with crazy hair, sans makeup and braless.

Mac appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, scowled at her and ran a hand over his tired face. He had a light bruise on his jaw—he’d obviously traded blows on the ice—and the beginnings of a black eye but his injuries looked superficial. It was the emotion she saw in his dark eyes that held her rooted to the spot; he looked frustrated and wound up.

“Where’s your sister?” he demanded, his deep, rough voice rumbling over her skin.

“Hello to you too.” Rory shrugged and his frown deepened at her response. “I have no idea where she is. Are you okay?”

Mac let out a low, humorless laugh. “Hell, no, I’m screwed.” He scowled at her and placed his hands on his hips. “Why are you here?”

“Heat’s out in my apartment. Shay said I could sleep here so I don’t freeze.”

“Just my friggin’ luck,” Mac muttered.

“Jeez, what’s your problem?” Rory asked him as he shrugged out of his expensive leather jacket and tossed it onto the granite counter. A long-sleeved black T-shirt clung to his broad chest and fell, untucked, over well-fitting jeans. He looked hot and tired and so damn sexy she could jump him right now, right where he stood.

Sister’s boyfriend, she reminded herself as he walked over to the fridge, pulled out a microbrewed beer and cracked the top. He took a long swallow, sighed and, closing his eyes, placed the bottle against his forehead.

“Bitching, horrible, freakin’ revolting day.”

She wouldn’t have thought the big badass of the Mavericks could sound so melodramatic. “It couldn’t have been that dire—you won the game.”

Mac’s ink-blue eyes lasered into hers. “Did you watch?” he asked, his question as pointed as a spear tip.

Rory shook her head. “Nah, had to study. Why?”

“Because I was wondering why my head was still attached to my neck.”

Rory narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”

Instead of answering, he gave her a long look. Then he placed his bottle on the center island and walked toward her. He gripped the counter, one hand on either side of her body. He was like a big human cage, she thought.

Up close and personal, she could see the slight tinge of auburn in his stubble, notice how long his eyelashes were, could see a faded scar on his top lip. And man, he smelled so good. She wanted to stand on her toes and kiss that scar, run her lips over that bruise on his jaw, kiss his eye better.

Sister’s boyfriend, sister’s boyfriend...she had no right to be standing this close to Mac, tasting his breath, feeling his heat. Playing with fire, coloring outside the lines was something her father did, his worst trait, yet despite that sobering thought she couldn’t make herself move away, was unable to duck under Mac’s arm. Even though Mac belonged to Shay, Rory wanted just one kiss from him. She wanted to know what he tasted like, how strong his arms felt around her, how it felt to be plastered against that solid wall of muscle. Just one kiss...

Gray eyes clashed with blue as his mouth hovered above hers. As she stood there, so close and so personal, she knew exactly what he’d do, how she’d feel...

His lips would slide across hers, cool, strong...smart. She’d open her mouth to protest, to say they couldn’t do this—or to let him in, who knew—and he wouldn’t hesitate. As his tongue slid into her mouth, his hand on her lower back would pull her into him and his other hand would delve beneath the elastic of her flannel bottoms to cup a butt cheek. His kiss would turn deeper and wetter and her hands would burrow under his loose T-shirt and explore the muscles of his back, his shoulders, his fabulously ripped stomach.

She’d think that it was wrong but she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. Mac would, ever so slowly, pull her T-shirt up to expose her too-small breasts and she’d whimper into his mouth and push her hips against him, needing to rub herself against his hard, hard erection. He’d be what a man felt like, strong, hot, in control...

“I just saw our entire kiss in your eyes. God, that was so hot,” Mac growled, and she tasted his sweet breath on her lips again.

“We can’t, it’s wrong.” Rory pushed the words up her throat, past her teeth, through her lips. Four words and she felt like she’d run a marathon.

Mac’s eyes stayed locked on hers and, in case she missed the desire blazing there, his erection nudging her knee let her know how much he wanted her. Mac wanted her...he really did. Tall, built, smelling great, gorgeous...how was she supposed to resist him?

Sister’s boyfriend, sister’s boyfriend...

Rory placed her hands on his pecs and pushed. Mac stepped back but as he did, he lifted his hand to run his knuckle over her cheek. That small, tender action nearly shattered her resolve and she had to grab the edge of the counter with both hands to keep from launching herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips and feasting on that fallen-angel mouth.

So this was primal lust, crazy passion. She wasn’t sure she liked how out of control it made her feel. Squirmy, hot, breathless...it was intensely tempting to throw caution to the wind and get lost in the moment. Did having such a flammable reaction to Mac mean that she was more like her dad than she thought? Ugh. This wasn’t going to happen, she decided. From this point on she would not kiss, touch or think about her sister’s boyfriend. This stopped. Now.

Rory held up a hand. “Back up.”

Mac took two steps back and she could breathe. She felt the craziness recede. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sent her a brooding look. “That was...”

“Wrong? Crazy? A betrayal of my sister?”

Mac frowned. “Let’s not get carried away here. We didn’t even kiss.”

“We wanted to!”

“But we didn’t so let’s not get too caught up in the melodrama.” Mac picked up his beer, sipped and sighed. His head snapped up and Rory heard the front door closing, heard her sister kicking off her heels. Rory tried to keep her face blank but she felt like her brain and heart were on fire as guilt and shame pricked her skin.

We didn’t actually kiss but I really, really wanted to...

“You’re here.” Shay tossed the words at Mac as she stepped into the kitchen. Rory frowned. Shay didn’t walk up to Mac and kiss him. It was what she did, every single time she saw him, whether they’d been apart five minutes or five weeks.

Mac made no effort to touch Shay either. He just stood there wearing that inscrutable face Rory knew he used when he wanted to avoid a scene.

But a scene, she knew it like she knew her own signature, was what they were about to have. Why?

Rory turned her eyes to her sister’s face. She recognized that expression, a mixture of betrayal, broken trust, hurt and humiliation. God, she looked devastated.

“What the hell, Mac?” Shay’s shout bounced off the walls.

Rory’s gaze jumped around the room. How could Shay know? Did she have cameras in the apartment? X-ray vision? A girlfriend’s gut instinct?

Mac held his hands up. “I’m sorry, Shay, for all of it. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Yet you’re doing such a fine job of it.” Shay wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. “There were easier ways to get rid of me, Mac. You didn’t have to humiliate me on national TV.”

Rory looked at Mac and then at Shay. Okay, maybe this conversation had nothing to do with Rory and the almost-kiss. “What are you talking about? What did he do?”

Shay let out a laugh that held absolutely no amusement. “You haven’t seen it?”

“Seen what?”

Shay’s laugh was brittle. “Well, you’re probably the only person in the city—the country—who hasn’t!” She lunged for the remote on the counter and jabbed her finger on the buttons to get the TV to power up. While she flipped through channels, Rory snuck a look at Mac. He gripped the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb and he looked utterly miserable.

Sad, sorry and, to be frank, at the end of his rope.

“And in today’s sports news, Maverick’s center Mac McCaskill was caught on an open mic commenting on sex, monogamy and hot women.”

Rory snapped her head up and looked at the screen. Footage of the post-match news appeared on the screen. Quinn, Kade and Mac lounged behind a table draped with the Maverick’s logo. Kade said something that was too low to hear and the three of them laughed.

“The blonde reporter in the third row is seriously hot.” Quinn’s voice was muffled and she could just hear his words.

“Did you see the redhead?” Kade demanded, his voice equally muted. “I have a thing for redheads.”

“You have a thing for all women.” Mac’s voice was clear and loud; obviously his was the only microphone that was live. Oh...shoot.

“Like you do. When are you going to give up this relationship BS and start playing the field again?” Quinn demanded. “It’s not like you’re particularly happy with your ball and chain.”

“I’m not and you’re right, monogamy sucks,” Mac said, looking past Quinn. Rory recognized that smile, the appreciation in his eyes. “Your blonde from the third row is very hot.”

“Shay is also hot,” Kade pointed out.

“Yeah but she’s crazy. Besides, I’m bored with tall and built. I’m thinking that petite might be a nice change of pace— Why is Vernon gesturing to me to shut up?”

Then a rash of swear words was followed by: “My mic is on!”

Rory looked at Shay, who’d dropped into a chair at the kitchen table with a vacant look in her eyes. She’d stopped crying and she looked like she’d checked out, mentally and emotionally. Mac picked up his jacket from the counter and walked over to stand in front of Shay. He bent his knees so he could look directly into her face.

“I’m sorry I spoke behind your back and I’m so sorry that I hurt you, Shay. It wasn’t my intention. I take full responsibility for running my mouth off. Not my finest moment and I am very sorry.”

When Shay looked through him and didn’t respond, he slowly stood up and placed his apartment key on the counter. Rory looked at her broken, desperately sad sister, grabbed Mac by the arm and pulled him into the hall, feeling as if her gray eyes must be full of angry lightning.

When their eyes met, he lifted one broad shoulder. “Told you I was screwed,” he said.

“So you came over here to screw me?” she demanded, thinking about that almost-kiss, fury clogging her throat.

Mac’s flashing eyes met hers. “Believe it or not, I’m not that much of a bastard. I didn’t even know you would be here.”

“What were you thinking, Mac?” she demanded, insanely angry. On behalf of her sister, but also because Rory had trusted him just as Shay had. “You’ve done so many interviews, you know how mics work.”

“I wasn’t thinking, dammit!”

Red dots appeared in front of Rory’s eyes. “Did you plan this? Was the smack talk an easy way to get out of your relationship with Shay?”

“Contrary to the evidence, I am better than that.”

Rory snorted. “You could’ve fooled me. First you insult my sister, then you almost kiss me? What was that about?”

Mac let out a harsh, angry breath. “I knew when I left that news conference that I was toast. I regret what I said. I came here to apologize to Shay but found you instead—”

“So you were angry and frustrated and I was there, a handy way to let off some steam!” Rory interrupted.

Mac’s curses filled the small hallway.

Rory drilled a finger into his chest. “How many times have you cheated on Shay? Because that move with me was far too practiced to be your first time!” The red dots turned scarlet and her chest tightened.

Mac stepped back and anger sparked in his eyes. “I’m only going to say this once. I never cheated on your sister. And, babe, you wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss you! I’ll take full responsibility for being a prick on national television but I will not take all the blame for what almost happened in there.”

Guilt swamped her. She knew he was right and she hated it. She didn’t want to shoulder any of the blame; it would be a lot easier if she could just blame him for everything: for being too sexy, for making her want something she had no right to want.

Mac raked his fingers through his hair. “Look, why don’t we let this situation settle down and I’ll call you? We can have coffee, chat. Sort this out?”

Pick up where we left off?

That wasn’t going to happen. There was no way she could date someone who’d dated—slept with—her sister, who’d almost cheated on her. Someone who’d made Rory so crazy with lust that she’d almost betrayed her sister! He would’ve kissed her had she not stopped him. He would’ve cheated...of that she was categorically convinced.

She could never trust him.

Ever.

“Don’t bother. I’m not interested.” Rory walked around him, yanked open the front door and gestured for him to leave. “Go. You’ve created enough havoc for one evening, for one lifetime.”

Mac, with a final inscrutable look, walked out of the Kydd sisters’ lives. Good riddance, Rory thought. The last thing either of them needed was a cheating, backstabbing man in their lives.

Rory turned and saw her sister standing in the kitchen doorway. She’d heard every word of their conversation. So she’d stopped the kiss. That meant little. The truth remained: she wanted Shay’s man, wanted him badly. They both knew she was more like their dirtbag father than either of them had thought possible. Shay was going to strip layers of skin off her and Rory deserved it.

“You two almost kissed? You had a moment?”

Facing her sister, she couldn’t deny the truth. “Yes. I’m really sorry.”

“Okay then. Thanks for getting rid of him,” Shay told Rory in a cold and hard voice. “Now get the hell out of my apartment and my life.”