Breathless (Players to Men) Read online

  Ray poured coffee and set the mug on the counter. “Sit.”

  I dropped on one of the three stools. Hell, I really didn’t need the added stimulant to stay up. I did just fine on my own.

  She leaned on the opposite side of the counter and blew the overlong bangs from her brow into disarray. “Shoot, I forgot the muffins.” She jumped up and brought out a flimsy white box. The multiple stud piercings she sported in one ear glinted in the light. “Here. And happy birthday.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You look tired, Maximus,” she said like some old soul who understood the depths of my pain. Truth? I just felt empty.

  “It will be okay.” She patted my hand on the counter.

  I stared at her in bafflement as she got the OJ from the fridge and poured herself a glass. How she’d integrated herself into my life, I still had no idea. Since the day I’d kicked the asses of some drunken jocks who’d cornered her after her part-time waitress shift down in the Mission, we’d sort of fallen into this relationship, a friendship of sorts.

  She was pretty, with striking, hazel eyes and naturally tan coloring due to her mixed-race parentage, so no surprise she was hit on all the time. But Ray didn’t seem interested in hooking up with anyone. All she cared about was school and her job at Mulligan’s.

  She filled me in on what had happened while I was away, about moving in with a sister I never knew existed, and then something about her folks who’d just celebrated their twenty-sixth anniversary. Ray could talk the ears off anyone without so much as a pause for breath at times, and, obviously, had a friggin’ fairytale family life.

  I tuned her out and stared at my now calloused hands gripping the mug.

  “Want to talk?” she asked quietly.

  “No,” hovered on my lips, then I shrugged. “I had enough of the party. I left.”

  She said nothing for a second. “Are you going back to Jack’s?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t deal with the people. I’ll book in somewhere.”

  “You’re welcome to our couch. It’s old, a relic from way before I was born, I’m sure. My sister rescued it from my folks. It used to open into a bed, it’s jammed now. But it’s very comfy, I can vouch for that. It’s yours if you’d like.”

  I met her compassionate gaze. Yeah, she was forever watching out for the underdogs. Probably why she’d adopted me. And why I liked her.

  Why she liked me, I had no idea, considering she knew most of my shit and the wreck I was. It was no secret I avoided my family home and my father whenever possible. Yet Ray never probed.

  “You sure? What about your sister?”

  “Oh, she won’t mind.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I have friends staying over at times. She’ll be okay with it.”

  “Thanks.” I pushed to my feet, weariness taking hold. “Shower? I need to get out of these wet things and get the dirt of Peru off me.”

  “You just got back?”

  “A few hours ago. Had no time to do much with the surprise party Jack laid out.”

  “Jack’s an idiot.” Her mouth thinned in irritation. It was no secret she couldn’t stand him. “Bathroom’s upstairs. Last door in the hallway. Max, there’s no need to rush off in the morning. Stay a few days, sort yourself out.”

  “Thanks.”

  She cut me a dimpled smile, opening her laptop again.

  As I turned to leave, one of the snapshots tacked on the fridge door caught my attention. Ray was licking the face of another girl whose features were scrunched. Again, the need to be included in the warmth drew me. Strange, I never felt that way about Ray—if anything, I saw her more as a kid sister.

  The image of the dancing, laundromat girl flickered through my mind, along with the momentary flash of sunshine. The urge to go back, to find her, talk to her, took hold.

  Truth was, even if I did return, it wouldn’t take long before I destroyed her life, too. Like I had the only person I’d ever loved.

  Ila

  The warmth of my apartment was a familiar comfort, my safe haven. Gratefully, I shut the door behind me, inhaling the aroma of coffee-infused air. Books were strewn on the coffee table and the couch.

  I adored my sister, but Rayen was like a walking tornado, one with a really keen brain. She had decided to major in math, which I never understood. But then she was the smart one, unlike me. Balancing my checkbook was like tackling a quantum equation.

  Dumping the heavy, linen bag on a chair, I retrieved the laundry, sorted through the items, then left my sister’s stack on the dining table. “Ray?”

  “In here.”

  As I walked into our tiny kitchen, I found her in the middle of eating a muffin and working on her laptop. The girl was a bottomless pit, ate like a horse, and didn’t gain a pound. Lucky for her, she was also tall while I was short and petite.

  “Your things are on the table. It’s your turn to do the laundry next.” I cut her a stern look so she’d know I was serious. Ray barely tackled chores, and laundry was a dead zone for her.

  “Aww, man. I hate hauling that ugly bag down to the laundromat.” Her lips curved in a sulky pout. “When are you gonna get the washing machine fixed?”

  I pulled off my damp jacket and dropped it on the stool. “Feel free to call Mr. Wong. If you can get him to move any faster, I’ll give you—”

  “Five hundred dollars?” she asked with a bright smile.

  A snort escaped me. My sister could wheedle almost anything she wanted out of anyone, probably because of those dimples of hers, or, maybe because of her big heart and compassion for the downtrodden. “You wish. A big smoochy kiss is what you’ll get.”

  She scrunched her nose, then grabbed me and licked my cheek.

  “Gross, Ray! Really?” Scowling, I swiped my face with the back of my hand. “Must you do that?”

  “Yup.” She grinned. “So you wouldn’t do it to me.” She picked up a cranberry-orange muffin and stuffed more of the crumbly cake into her mouth.

  Sniffing, I shook my head. “At the rate you inhale food, good thing I don’t have to pay Mrs. Renner the kind of rent this place goes for, or we’d be living on the street.”

  “Good thing I’m here, or everything in this kitchen would gather fungus,” she shot back. “We’d probably discover a new species of spores living inside our fridge and cause the next big disaster worse than the Ebola virus. Scientists would call it the Ila—”

  “Shut up, Ray.” Amusement tugging my lips, I freed my hair from its ponytail and headed for the stairs. Shower, then work.

  “Ila, wait—”

  I sprinted up, ignoring her frantic cry. She must have discovered something else that needed expounding upon. Mold? Grimacing, I pulled off my clammy tank top and dashed into the—steam-filled?—bathroom, nearly tripping on a pile of clothes strewn on the floor. “Dammit! What the…?”

  My mouth fell open. My gaze locked on the vision in front of me.

  A naked, golden Adonis stood just a touch away, towel-drying his dark blond hair. A light scruff shadowed his jaw. With his lean face and chiseled jaw and chin, he was utterly gorgeous. Built like a swimmer, he sported black and gray tattoos on his biceps, snaking to his forearms. More ink ran to his back and parts of his chest, a striking contrast against his golden skin—

  Holy mother! He had both nipples pierced!

  He was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.

  Jeez, but he was tall. I probably stood waist-high or something. As if my eyes had a will of their own, they traveled down his well-defined abs, past his navel—

  Whoa—ugh, dammit! Tearing my gaze back up, I clashed with eyes the color of a lake hidden deep in a verdant jungle. And stilled. What secrets did they conceal? God knew my own smiles hid an abyss of hurt and pain. My ex filled my mind, and just as quickly, I shut him out when despair threatened to resurface.

  He, however, didn’t seem to care about my staring. His cool indifference took on a spark of interest. His left brow, bisected by a scar, rose, and a smirk
lit his handsome face.

  Reality smacked me upside the head. Here I stood, half-naked, and ogling him. Heat scorching my face, I pulled on my tank top again.

  “That’s a shame.” At his teasing words, I cut him a cold glare.

  Instead of yelling, “who the hell are you?” I barked, “Raaaaay!”

  Shaking his head and pressing his lips together as if trying not to smile, he wrapped a towel around his lean waist just as Ray made a winded, laughing appearance.

  “Sorry, sis! But Max is hanging with me for a few days.”

  Hanging? I sincerely hoped she meant ‘just friends watching movies’ type of hanging and not that they’d been doing the horizontal tango while I’d been at the laundromat, because…because…I had no idea why I’d even think there was a because.

  Heck, who was I to preach after the mess I had made of my life? I’d chosen to live like a virtual recluse at nearly twenty-five, sheltered within the walls of my home and buried in my work, much to the dismay of my family. But that didn’t mean Ray could break my rules by bringing random hookups into our home.

  I glared at my sister. Didn’t trust the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, while he crossed his arms over his bare chest and listened, no doubt highly amused by our exchange. “You couldn’t tell me this downstairs? Or yell it?”

  “I tried to warn you,” Ray grumbled. “But, jeez, you’re damn fast when you don’t want to be caught.”

  “Explain.” I pinned Ray with a gimlet glare, more out of embarrassment that I’d been caught staring at her guest than anything else.

  “Max needs a place to crash for a few days. I said it was okay.”

  Aware that he still hadn’t uttered a word except for the provocative comment moments ago, I remained silent. Ray’s mouth had a tendency to run at full steam sometimes. Worse, we were having a conversation in the bathroom with a nearly naked guy who was standing far too close. Or maybe our bathroom was shrinking because I could literally feel his body heat, or, maybe menopause had hit early. Ugh. Clearly, I’d lost my mind.

  I walked out, then ran downstairs to the living room, rubbing my heated face. I picked up my laundry and carried it back to my room.

  Ray appeared and hesitated in the doorway. “I’m sorry, sis. I tried to warn you I had a friend over. It’s okay, right?” Worried hazel eyes searched mine. “Max is really nice. He needs a quiet place to stay for a while, and he saved me from those drunken assholes last year after I left work. He got hurt in the fight, too.”

  Instantly, all my protective instincts raced to the forefront. Ray had told me about the incident, but the pissed-off fighter named Max didn’t line up with the sexy, beautiful man in my home.

  Just because I had no interest in men at this point in my life didn’t mean I wasn’t aware that he was good-looking.

  He had saved Ray. The least I could do was let him stay. More, it was the first time Ray had shown interest in any guy or had one stay over. But she was still my little sister. “Fine, but he takes the couch.”

  “Gotcha.” A cheeky grin appeared. “Hey, he could totally share my bed, and it would mean nothing.”

  “Ray, enough.” I didn’t want to hear it, or how they’d hooked up. “Go do something. Order dinner. Surely you must be hungry by now?”

  She smirked. “Yeah, I am. In fact, I didn’t finish my muffin, which is all your fault. So, what shall I get?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  She dashed off. Seconds later, the thud of knuckles banging on wood sounded. “Hey, Maximus, what would you like to eat?”

  “I’m good with whatever.” His quieter, muffled tone drifted to me. A door squeaked open, then his heavy footsteps followed my sister’s lighter ones down the stairs.

  I pulled out a change of clothes and headed for the shower, which, of course, brought my encounter with Max back in vivid detail. Warmth flooded my face—eesh, you’d think I’d be used to nudity instead of blushing like a teen, considering I’d painted nudes while at university.

  Irritated at myself, I stripped off my dank clothes, tossed them in the hamper, and stepped into the shower.

  A half hour later, as I changed into jeans and a tee, my cell beeped with a text. Food’s here.

  Right, now I’d have to go face my sister’s guest. I stared at my cell, biting my thumbnail. Then realizing what I was doing, I grimaced, pocketed my cell, and trudged downstairs. If Ray didn’t call me to eat, she’d probably find my skeletal form slumped over my easel. Time ran away when I painted. Unlike my day job.

  As a window designer, the job should be fun, creative, but my boss, Kate, made the Dementors seem like paragons of happiness. I’d leave if I could, but I needed a steady income until my paintings took off.

  As I cleared the bottom stair, soft voices drifted to me from the television, and the teasing aroma of savory, cheesy pizza had my tummy rumbling.

  Ray sat on the floor while Max stood near the window, staring outside, his cell pressed to his ear. At the sight of Matt Smith’s cute face on TV, I wasn’t surprised she had him watching her favorite show, a Doctor Who rerun.

  “Thought you’d never come down,” Ray said. “Pizza’s getting cold.”

  “It’s okay.” I crossed to the low table, aware that Max had turned and now watched me as he ended his call. Ignoring him, I selected a cooling pepperoni slice from the box and took a bite. As I straightened, my gaze met his, and my stomach tripped at the intensity of his stare.

  Darn, I needed a drink. I made for the kitchen, retrieved the merlot from the cupboard, and poured a glass of red. One hefty gulp later, and the miracle wine eased the tension inside me.

  Calmer now, I headed back to the living room and bit off a disgruntled sigh. Max had claimed my armchair. My pillows stacked on a chair. He slouched in my comfy spot, long legs stretched out and those muscled, inked arms folded over his flat belly.

  Since I couldn’t physically pick him up and move him—the guy was way tall and outweighed me by more than a hundred pounds—I kicked off my flip-flops and sat on the couch near Ray, curling my legs under me.

  My sister gabbed nonstop, mostly about people I didn’t know, gaming, and then she asked Max how far he’d progressed on his “piece.”

  A gamer? It fit.

  Usually, any episode of Doctor Who grabbed my attention. But not today. Now, it was next to impossible when our unexpected houseguest sat just a short distance away. Ack. Shutting him out of my thoughts, my mind drifted to my meeting with a new client this evening—well, more, it was the other half of an engagement portrait I had to complete. I’d finished Sue’s part and was meeting with her fiancé, Gus, to set up a schedule so I could work on his.

  As the end credits rolled on-screen, I made my way to the kitchen and tossed the pizza crust in the compost bin under the sink. Despite having work to finish, I stood there for a second, a strange restlessness stirring within me. I wanted to go to the rooftop, lie on the chair there, and stare at the stars until my head cleared, but it was raining.

  Exhaling wearily, I turned and almost collided with a hard body. Crap, I jumped back, my heart thumping wildly against my ribs. He smelled really, really good. Woodsy, with a hint of cedar and warm male…and a trace of my apple shampoo.

  “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

  “Or in the living room,” he said quietly.

  He didn’t just say that, did he?

  When he continued to watch me with those inscrutable lake-green eyes, I decided it was best not to say anything. He set the pizza box and soda can on the counter. I walked around him. He stopped me, a hand on my arm. My breath caught. My blood buzzed like a lit fuse at his touch. And I stood there stunned for what felt like years—a lifetime.

  “Tell me your name.”

  “What?”

  “Or is it a state secret?”

  My hazy thoughts finally connected. Crap. He’d asked my name.

  “Okay, then,”—a slight smile tugged at his lips—“I’ll just call you the sist
er or Logan.”

  At his teasing, heat rushed to my face. Dammit, I should have just told him. Now I appeared like a gaping, witless idiot. It took everything in me not to step back, uneasy at how a simple touch rattled me.

  “It’s Ila. My name’s Ila, okay?”

  “That sounds very nice, but too late, Logan.”

  Oh, man. Safer to change the subject. “Did you want something?”

  His gaze skimmed over my face and lowered to my mouth. “Yes.”

  Warmth seeped into my cheeks. Before he saw how his words flustered me, I picked up a glass, filled it with water, and swallowed some.

  “Is it okay if I stay here?” he asked.

  Leave. Go. Yet, my conscience wouldn’t let me voice that. No matter my unfortunate reaction to him, he did save Ray. The doorbell rang. I breathed in relief. My appointment was here, and I could escape this suddenly stifling space.

  I set the glass down and turned, and found him raking back his overgrown blond hair. His actions drew my gaze to his bulging, tattooed biceps. It was so tempting to step closer and study the spiraling musical design on his forearm. I said instead, “Yes, it’s fine. If you need anything, ask Ray.”

  “Sis?” Ray sprinted into the kitchen and dumped her plate and soda on the counter. “Your client’s here—whoa, he’s one yummy, silver-haired fox. Said you’re supposed to show him what you do, so I left him in your room of shocking activities.”

  She enjoyed teasing me about my closed door. I didn’t like disturbances when I worked.

  “Hey, Maximus,” Ray said. “You’re probably beat with the kind of day you just had and on your birthday, too. Do you wanna crash early?”

  “No.” He shook his head.

  As I went off to greet my client, Ray’s words echoed in my mind. It was his birthday, and he spent it without his family?

  My cell beeped. Absently, I pulled it out of my pocket. At the shortened text, an unstoppable jolt of pain flooded my chest.

  Ila, please, please talk to me. I miss you—

  Devyn.