Impossible You (Players to Men Book 2) Page 2

  Barely suppressing my snort, I dispensed the drinks, ignoring the sharp look Jack cut me. Who knew he could hear me with so much estrogen enclosing him?

  “You’re finishing your shift now, right?” my sister asked as I passed her a vodka tonic.

  “Yep, I’m done.”

  “Then you’re coming over to the loft?”

  Damn. “No…” Instinctively, I cut War a furtive look. “I have plans tonight.”

  “Really?” she asked, lifting a skeptical eyebrow.

  “If you must know, it’s a date.” A hookup. A one-night stand. Who the heck cared what it was called? My sexual encounters left me staring at the ceiling, waiting for it to be over. And for once, I wanted someone to knock me off my feet, blow my mind to the next state. An experienced guy to introduce me to the carnal side of life I’d only read about, convinced me it was the way to go, and without the ties or any of the awkward morning-after convo.

  Yup, it was a great present to myself. I’d wanted to hire an escort, but War had protested vehemently. Just as well since I couldn’t afford one on my budget.

  War only knew about this because I needed a guy’s input. I couldn’t ask Max, he’d simply veto my plans, going all big brother on me. And him? I wouldn’t even share the same air space with the killjoy. So, War it was.

  “Who?” Ila demanded.

  Ugh. “It’s er, umm…in the early stages. Until I’m sure, then I’ll tell you.” Hopefully, it would be over and done with before that happened.

  “Ray.” Ila cut me a gimlet glare. “I know you. Whatever you’re planning, it’s not good.”

  “You’re forever on my back, telling me to date.” I sniffed innocently, stroking my beaten silver thumb ring with my index finger. “Now I am, and you’re still not happy.”

  “Yes, because you won’t say who.”

  I wiped my guilt-damp palms on my skirt, suddenly aware that the king of players was no longer interested in queen slutty’s banter. Those pale eyes were pinned on me like lasers.

  “I will soon,” I evaded, collecting the empties, ignoring Jack’s penetrating stare. My sister could be so tenaciously persistent.

  “It’s with me,” War said.

  “Dammit, War!” A growl breaking free, I snatched the tray and escaped to sign off for the evening. Let him handle the heat since he’d let the cat out of the bag. If he breathed one word of the truth to either Max or Ila, so help me, War was so dead.

  Jack

  What the hell? War had a date with Ray?

  Was he fucking mad? I had to make the dumb idiot see sense. As gorgeous as she was, Rayen Logan had a mouth that could insult a person to the next state, to never want to cross paths with her again. I steered clear of the pretty but sharp-tongued little bug.

  War was asking for trouble. We had both stuck to Max’s elicit warning to keep our tainted claws off her. He’d treated her like his little sister pre-Ila—the sibling relationship now a reality because he was about to marry her sister—and we heeded the caveat that family was off-limits.

  Sure, we kept an eye on her, so the sleazeballs in here knew to watch it. The asshole who’d slapped her backside earlier was on my radar, preferably with a broken jaw before the night was over.

  The brunette near me continued spinning drunken promises, I barely heard or had any inclination towards. Irritated, I waved her off. “I’m not interested.”

  “What the hell are you up to, War?” Max demanded, while Ila nailed him with a dark glower before she stomped off after her sister. “I told you to lay off Ray.”

  “Hey, it’s just one date,” he protested. “We’re…er, testing the waters, so to speak. My career’s going well, and I think she’ll keep me calm, help me not get into fights.”

  Max’s brow lowered like a bull about to charge. Yeah, the bastard was pissed. Hell, I wouldn’t want to face my best friend when he let that temper of his loose.

  “Warrick, I don’t give a fuck about your anger issues right now. This is Ray,” Max snapped, cutting a sharp look at Ila, who was trying to talk to Ray. But the thorn in my side sported a stubborn look, one I knew too well.

  War slouched back in his seat, his gaze fixed on Max. No, he wasn’t relenting. Max shot to his feet. “You do anything to her, friend or not, I’ll hurt you.”

  As he strode off after Ila, I narrowed my eyes at War. “What’s going on with you? And don’t give me that crap about a date.”

  War’s mouth pressed into a hard line, and I knew he wouldn’t say shit. Frustrated and needing to work off the anger still roiling through me, one not even a vigorous afternoon surfing session could eliminate, I lurched to my feet and headed for—I paused—I had no fucking clue where I wanted to go. I strode to the restroom.

  Since this morning’s debacle with my family, every damn thing pissed me off, and now this.

  On my way back, my gaze lit on Ray walking in front of me, untying her apron. I jogged after her and grabbed her arm. She spun around. When she saw me, she rolled her hazel eyes and grimaced as if she’d tasted something sour. “I’m clocked out, Griffin. Get another waitress to tend to you.”

  Sometimes, I wondered what it would take to have her smile at me. Just smile because she didn’t dislike me. My mood dropped lower. “What the hell are you up to, Rayen?”

  Her eyebrow cocked in the way Max’s did. And she’d gone and gotten another piercing, on her tongue, as if the marching row of gold studs on her left ear wasn’t enough metal to disturb the gorgeous lines of her face. Hell, she was sexy and damn hot regardless, with striking eyes and naturally tan skin due to her mixed heritage. But why would she go and add all that metal?

  “You’re acting like I’m going to go rob a bank or something.” She sniffed. “If you really must know…War’s setting me up with someone.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re clever, or so I’ve heard,” she taunted. “But considering the blank look that takes over your expression, and probably your gray matter, with the slanks you hook up with, it seems highly doubtful.”

  Goddammit. I wanted to shake her. “Ray,” I barked.

  “Ugh!” She expelled an exasperated breath, disturbing the overlong, purple-streaked bangs falling into her face. “Go away, Griffin.”

  I grabbed her wrist. She cut me an aggravated glare. She might be tall, but I was taller and used my six-feet-two height to loom over her with every intention to intimidate.

  She bowed back, the counter behind her stopping her from completely tipping over. Pity, maybe a fall would knock some sense into her rock-hard skull. I rested my palms on the counter, caging her. “Talk, Bug.”

  “That aggressive caveman threat won’t work on me. I’m not one of your floozies. And don’t call me that!” She slapped her hands on my chest and shoved. It did little to move me. But a sharp buzz streaked through me like lightning, sending my mind off-focus. And then I realized why. She’d never touched me before. In all the time I’d known her. Then, stunning the hell out of me, she leaned in close as if coming in for a kiss, but her lips missed mine by a mile and went to my ear. The stab of loss startled me.

  “If you must know the reason for my plans,” she whispered, her breath warming my skin, “it’s so I can get laid. I wanted an escort, no awkward morning-after convo and disappointed faces because the other won’t call. But War didn’t agree. So, he’s setting me up with a hockey player. Heard they’re the best in the sack. You know what’s even better? I don’t have to see them afterward.” She pulled back and grinned, catching her tongue piercing against her teeth.

  It took a moment for what she’d said to sink into my sluggish brain, pulling my mind away from the fantasy of her tormenting tongue doing wicked things to my body—

  The air suddenly rushed out of my lungs. I stood there speechless, stunned by the craziness of what I’d just heard. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “When?”

  “Really?” She arched her feminine brow. “I don’t ask you when you
’re getting laid. I gotta go, I’m delaying War and my date.” Smirking, she ducked under my arm and disappeared down the corridor. I stood there, clenching the counter like a frozen idiot.

  No fucking way. We always kept an eye out for her. She was my best friend’s girl’s sister, and I wasn’t letting her get herself into trouble. I knew what assholes men could be. Hell, I probably led the pack and deserved the names she tagged me with, but this shit wasn’t happening. She’d thank me when she got that damn hard skull of hers on straight again.

  Before I could go after her, the brunette who’d dropped her napkin on my lap, one I’d tossed away, swooped in with a sultry smile. “You changed your mind, yes?”

  “I’m busy.” I sidestepped her, my attention fixed on the dim hallway and the staff entrance through which the pain in my temporal lobe had disappeared.

  “Asshole,” the woman bit out. “He’ll never get a piece of Eva now.” She stomped off.

  Did she just refer to herself in the third person? I shook my head. In the past, she would have been perfect for a meaningless fuck. Now, she didn’t even ping my interest. In the last year, nothing had.

  As I glanced back to where Ray had disappeared, my gaze stalled on Cliff, my grandfather’s caregiver, seated at the counter. He nodded and resumed nursing his soda. The guy didn’t drink, but he appeared to like hanging at the bar on his nights off.

  Ray strolled out from the back. She’d changed into a sleek, dark blue dress that hugged every inch of her sexy body and glided right past me as if I were part of the furniture.

  “Hey, Griffin.” Two former university buds cornered me, yakking about some surfing event, which, right then, I didn’t give a damn about. “It’s being held in Main Break—Australia. You gonna do it?”

  “I don’t know. Gotta go.” My attention zipped back to the entrance, except Ray had vanished. Dammit. I took off after her, but people kept getting in my way. A guy bumped into me and shoved me back, hiking my already buzzing temper.

  Growling, I pivoted and was about to take off when I realized who it was. The drunken asshole who’d felt up Ray earlier. Anger surged. My fist flew into his face before my brain connected with my thoughts, sending him crashing into his pals. “You ever touch Ray like that again, I’ll break both your fucking hands.”

  Fingers clenching, blood pounding in my ears, I stormed outside—wishing I could tackle my other problems as easily. In the brisk night air, I halted on the crowded curb, inhaling harsh breaths of exhaust fumes. Chatter crowded my ears as I scanned the sidewalk. No sign of her. Goddamn these Logan sisters. They sure knew how to garrote a guy by the balls.

  I should just go home. But spying War leaning against his new Ducati, I jogged over. “Where is she?”

  His expression hardened. “Leave her alone, Jack. Yeah, she told me you interrogated her. She’ll be fine with Cal.”

  “Calum Moore? That fucking manwhore?”

  “What are we? Saints?” War snorted. “At least he’ll give her what she wants. I’m waiting for her call when they’re done.”

  For some reason, his words landed as if someone had sucker-punched me in the gut. They were doing it tonight—now? I yanked War off his bike by his shirt collar, despite him being taller and bigger. “Tell me where she is, or I swear you and I will make tomorrow’s news.”

  War eyed me like I was some sad loser and shook his head, his mouth turned down in pity. “You’re in way over your head, man. Let it go. Keep her at a distance like you usually do. It’s best for everyone, especially you,” he said, as if I’d asked for his goddamn advice. And what the hell was he talking about? This was about saving Ray from her own foolishness. Not me.

  “You’re too fucked up—”

  “War!” I snarled.

  A growl rumbled free as he glared in irritation, then muttered, “You’re a goddamn bastard, Griffin. She’s meeting Cal at the BlackRock.”

  At the mention of her hooking up in our hotel, my teeth ground down. “Give me your keys.” I tossed him the ones to my Porsche.

  Minutes later, the bike vibrating between my thighs, I cut through the thick traffic and headed for the BlackRock downtown. Parking at the front of the hotel in what felt like hours later, I leaped off the machine, flung the keys to the valet, who nodded when he saw me, and took the stairs three at a time. I sprinted into the foyer and headed for the busy bar. They’d better be here, or Calum Moore would be scrapings on the floor, and Ray would wish—

  There she stood, near the low-lit counter, talking to the smirking asshole.

  What was it with her and blonds? Biting back my irritation at the shit this girl so carelessly stepped into, I strode across the room, grasped Ray around the waist, and dragged her to me. “Sorry, bud, a misunderstanding with my girl here,” I flung a hard smile at Cal.

  Ray’s gaze snapped to me. Her mouth fell open, snapped shut, then opened again. Before she created a scene, I hauled her away, wanting to get out of this place.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She yanked at my hold, halting me. “Let me go!”

  Guests turned. Shit. Lowering my voice, I bit out, “Create a scene, and I’ll give the guests something to talk about. My way, or yours?” I released her wrist.

  Her eyes spitting fire, she pressed her lips together and crossed her arms. With one hand at the small of her back, I propelled her to the reception desk. It was best to talk to her in a quiet place and make her see the foolishness of her actions.

  Ignoring the curious stares from the personnel behind the desk, I got the keys for the penthouse, then headed for the private elevator and steered her inside.

  “What the heck are you doing?” She jerked away from me as the metal door rolled shut.

  “We’re going to talk—”

  “Go to hell!”

  I gritted my teeth and remained silent, watching her as the elevator whooshed up. The moment it halted, and the door slid open, Ray folded her arms again and skewered me with a death-glare, refusing to move.

  My patience flat-lining, I swept her up and dropped her over my shoulder. Her breath escaped in a rush, and the blissful moment of silence shattered. She slapped my back, finally finding her voice. “Put me down!”

  I let her spend her fury, then she pinched my back, and she didn’t let go. It might only be a tiny little nip, but the thing stung like hell. I slapped her ass. Hard.

  “Oww—” An outraged gasp. She rubbed her backside. “I’m going to kill you, Griffin, I swear. I’ll call the cops and charge you with abduction and assault!”

  “Go ahead.” I stepped out of the elevator and headed for the penthouse. Using the key card, I flung open the door and then slammed it shut, walking into the suite of rooms. At least she’d stopped with the hitting and pinching. I strode through the living room into the bedroom and tossed her unceremoniously on the bed. She bounced once and then shot to her feet, her hazel eyes sparking a furious green—a stunning contrast to her light, honey-hued face.

  “Take me back this minute!” She shoved back her inky hair falling in a striking, wavy mess to her shoulders. The fact she’d undone the silly pigtails she usually wore at the bar and that she’d dressed up for the dumbass jock of a hockey player irked me more than it should.

  “Not until you listen.”

  “To you? Never!” Her chest rose and fell in fury. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Saving you? Because you have no sense of self-preservation. You just throw yourself at the sluttiest of men—”

  “I want slutty,” she spat.

  For some reason, that set me off.

  “You want slutty? Do you? Very well.” I undid a few buttons of the gray dress shirt I’d worn to the office, grabbed the back collar, and dragged it off.

  Her mouth formed a shocked O, eyes rounded like saucers. Then the words rushed out. “Wait-wait—Jack, what are you doing?”

  “Oh, so you do know my name.”

  Those lush lips thinned into a mutinous line.

  “Ac
cording to you, I’m a player,” I continued, “sluttier than all the alley cats put together. Why go to some amateur when I can give you what you want?” I flung the shirt onto the bed.

  She blinked. The delicate curve of her throat moved as if she’d swallowed a boulder. Yeah, she finally realized I was dead-serious. Good. Maybe some sense would finally reclaim its space in that stubborn head of hers.

  Except her gaze drifted over my body, following my hands to my pants as I unbuckled and got rid of my belt. Slowly, I tossed it on top of my shirt, and her gaze rushed to mine. I prowled closer. She hurriedly stepped back as if that would stop me from making my point.

  The bed halted her retreat. She glared. “I don’t want you.”

  “Too bad.”

  I lowered my hands on her waist. Her eyes popped even wider. For once, she seemed at a loss for words. Satisfied she hadn’t pushed me away, I lowered my head and brushed my lips along her jaw. She didn’t have to know I wouldn’t do anything more than this.

  Her breath hitched…in anticipation?

  Was she actually that damn curious about sex…or was it with Cal? Something inside me coiled like a spring at the thought that she would seek out a dickhead like him to fulfill whatever lusty fantasy she had—

  Hell, she smelled amazing. Like flowers…and apples. The fragrance seeped into me, lodging in my olfactory cortex or whatever the hell it was that trapped smells in my senses. At the sensation of her peach-smooth skin beneath my mouth, the air caught in my lungs, and the swirling emptiness—even the shitstorm that had plagued me since this morning—quieted.

  As if her mind finally caught up with her brain and waded through her shock, she slapped her palms against my bare chest, a touch I felt right in my solar plexus, stunning me senseless once more. “Don’t you dare, Griffin,” she choked out. “Or…or I’ll tell Max.”

  “Go ahead. Here’s the thing, Bug. Max, your idol? He asked us to keep an eye on you. War must have lost his fucking mind looking into those limpid hazel eyes of yours. Go ahead, shout it from this hotel rooftop to all of San Francisco. It makes little difference.”