Field of Pleasure Page 8

“I really have to work, tonight, Jared. I’m nearly done. If I pull an all-nighter, I can probably complete the first draft.”

  “Does that mean I can see you tomorrow?”

  “Didn’t you just see me last night?”

  “Yes, and I really liked what I saw. Makes me want to see it again, and again and again.”

  Her breath hitched at his admission.

  “Jared,” she started. “I…” But she couldn’t verbalize what she wanted to say. Because she wasn’t exactly sure of what to say.

  She’d told herself their date was a one-time deal. It didn’t matter that she’d laughed more last night than she had in months. Or that for nearly four hours she hadn’t thought once about school or work or the rent check that was due in two days. God, it had felt so good to leave that stuff behind.

  She could afford just one more evening of enjoying herself, couldn’t she?

  “What did you have in mind?” Chyna heard herself ask.

  A devilish smile curved up the corners of Jared’s mouth. Lounging in his media room, he flipped back to the previous defensive series on the muted television and pressed the play button.

  “Since I was adventurous enough to try your Moroccan food, I thought I’d test your level of adventure,” he said.

  “What kind of test are we talking about here?”

  His grin widened at the reluctance he heard in Chyna’s voice. “Jet Skiing,” he answered, bracing himself for her response.

  “Absolutely not!”

  Jared couldn’t hold in his laugh. “Are you scared?”

  “Not scared, just…smart,” she replied. “I try not to intentionally put myself in a position to suffer brain damage.”

  “This from a woman who spent the last week practicing dance moves just steps away from three-hundred-pound guys crashing into each other?”

  There was a pause before she said, “Touché. But I’m still not getting on a Jet Ski.”

  Jared paused the film and walked over to the bar to grab a bottled water from the wine chiller. “Who would have thought there was such a coward hiding behind those pretty gray eyes,” he said.

  “Don’t try your reverse psychology on me. I’m not falling for it.”

  “Fine,” he relented. “No Jet Skis. Why don’t you decide?”

  A few seconds went by before she asked, “How do you feel about dog parks?”

  He twisted the cap from his water and took a swig. “Since I don’t have a dog, I’m pretty ambivalent on the subject.”

  “I’ve been neglecting Summer, and I promised her we’d spend tomorrow afternoon at the dog park.”

  “And she understood your promise?”

  “Of course she did.”

  Jared shook his head. “I just love the way pet owners like to pretend their pets have human qualities.”

  “Hey, Summer is smarter than half the people in New York. Now, if you want to see me tomorrow, you meet me in Madison Square Park. I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “Only if you let me buy you dinner tomorrow night,” he said. “Don’t say no,” Jared entreated, sensing her hesitation. “I thought we established last night that you, me and dinner make a good combination.”

  “It did, but—”

  “No buts, Chyna.” He cut off her refusal before she had the chance to voice it. “You had fun last night. Don’t tell me you didn’t.”

  “I already admitted that I did.”

  “And I enjoyed showing you a good time. What objection can you have to doing that again?”

  “You’ll eventually want to take it further, and I just don’t have time to devote to anything serious,” she said.

  He leaned back against the bar and crossed his ankles in front of him. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed when you ended that kiss, or that I haven’t thought about it a time or two—” or two hundred, he thought “—since last night. But I’ve already promised not to push you any further than you’re willing to go.

  “I like you, Chyna.” As he said the words, Jared realized he meant them. Completely. “The only thing I had to look forward to this summer was working out at the practice facility and coming back to this empty house to watch tape. The promise of seeing you, it’s more than I could have hoped for.”

  She was quiet for several long moments before finally saying, “That was one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me.”

  “I meant it,” Jared said, imagining the smile on her face and feeling like a king for knowing he’d put it there. “What time should I meet you at the park?” he asked.

  “One o’clock,” she answered. “How should I dress for dinner?”

  A sense of triumph welled in his chest at her acquiescence. “I won’t make the same mistake twice,” Jared said. “We’ll go casual tomorrow.”

  “Enjoy watching your tape,” she said.

  “Good luck with the paper tonight,” he returned.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Goodbye, Jared.”

  “Goodbye, Chyna.”

  After a beat, she said, “Are you hanging up, or what?”

  “You go first,” Jared prompted.

  “And we’ve both just landed back in the sixth grade,” she said with a droll snort. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She disconnected the call.

  He’d smiled so much in the last ten minutes, his jaw ached, yet Jared still couldn’t wipe the stupid grin from his face.

  He went into the kitchen and pulled out the turkey on wheat Maggie had left in the fridge for him. Unwrapping the clear plastic wrap, Jared ambled over to the phone on the counter and dialed into his voice mail.

  He deleted the first three calls, two from his agent and another from the building concierge. The fourth was from his mom, letting him know she’d made it to Okinawa where she was spending the month with his sister, Sharon, while his navy doctor brother-in-law served his fourth tour in Afghanistan.

  He skipped to the fifth missed call. It was from his business partner, Patrick.

  “We got the go-ahead,” Patrick’s excited voice said over splotches of cell phone static. “Inspection is Monday. I’m meeting the contractor at noon tomorrow. Come over if you have time.”

  Jared finished off his sandwich and headed to his bedroom to change. He’d made an attempt to help out more with the Red Zone, but he was so used to being a silent partner in the many ventures he invested in, he had never gotten around to giving Patrick a hand. If he’d been thinking clearly, Jared would have gotten more involved. Helping Patrick bring his concept of an upscale, sports-themed barbershop to life would have helped to keep his mind off Samantha these past six months.

  Of course, now that he’d started whatever it was he and Chyna had going on, he didn’t need anything else to occupy his mind. She had taken up all available space and then some.

  Jared locked up his penthouse and hopped into his car. A half hour later, he spotted Patrick’s car parked in the alley beside the two-story brownstone Jared had purchased in Upper Manhattan’s Morningside Heights neighborhood. A contractor had gutted the interior and completely renovated it.

  Patrick Foley greeted him just inside the entrance to the barbershop. Jared clasped his college roommate on the shoulder. “Give me the grand tour.”

  “Prepare yourself, my man,” Patrick said with a gigantic grin. They set out on a tour of the shop, Patrick pointing out the features that had been added since the last time Jared had visited. “The waiting area has four televisions dedicated to four main sports—football, basketball, baseball and hockey. Unless there’s a major golf or tennis tournament going on.”

  They walked up three steps to the main area of the barbershop. Dark hardwood floors gleamed. The right side housed seven barber stations separated by clear, shoulder-high partitions. Each station was comprised of a heated leather massage chair, a stainless-steel sink, and a nineteen-inch flat-screen television extending eye-level from a long metal arm.

  The left wall held a bar with a movie-theater caliber popcorn maker and th
ree beer taps, along with two additional stations for shaving and a towel warmer the size of a refrigerator.

  “I would live here,” Jared said.

  Patrick laughed. “Well, there’s an extra bedroom upstairs. You are always welcome to it if Sam ever puts you—” His friend stopped. “Damn, man, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Jared said.

  “It’s just that you two were together for so long, it’s easy to forget that she’s gone.”

  For months he’d had that same problem, but Jared realized he hadn’t thought much about Samantha this past week. Not since he’d looked across the practice field at the Sabers facility and encountered a vision with gray eyes and a body to die for walking toward him.

  “Let me show you the rest,” Patrick said. He pointed out all the features that made the Red Zone different from your normal barbershop. A guy could spend his entire Saturday here. This place was a surefire goldmine.

  “How are the plans coming for the grand opening?” Jared asked.

  “It’s all good,” Patrick said. “I’ve got ad spots running on four radio stations starting on Wednesday. The Facebook page launched last night. And I just confirmed with the Sabers’ public relations that we’ll have three cheerleaders.”

  “You’re bringing in Saberrettes?”

  “Hell, yeah,” Patrick said. “I thought I told you about that. The free beer and pizza may bring guys in the door, but girls in skimpy outfits will keep them here.”

  Jared couldn’t argue with that logic. “You need anything else?” he asked. “You know, cash-wise, to help buy streamers and balloons or whatever else it is people use to decorate for a grand opening?”

  “I’ve got it covered,” Patrick said. “You’ve done enough. I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for this, man.”

  “Easy, you’ll write me a nice check every month.” Jared laughed.

  “Yeah, I know.” Patrick joined in with a chuckle. “Still, I owe you. After the divorce, not a single bank was willing to give me a loan. I needed this.”

  “You know you can always count on me,” Jared said, bringing his long-time friend in for a one-armed hug. “Now why don’t you start paying me back by ordering a pizza while we watch the Celtics and Lakers?”

  “You got it.” Patrick clamped a hand on his back as he fired up one of the flat screens.

  Chapter 8

  “Summer, no!” Chyna called in a stern voice. She bent down and scooped Summer into her arms before her tiny canine explorer could find another flower to chew. Nuzzling her Yorkie’s neck, she said, “Why do you insist on eating the grass? You’ll have these people thinking Mommy doesn’t feed you.”

  Summer’s pink tongue darted out and gave Chyna’s nose an apologetic lick, but as soon as the dog was on all fours again she darted for the foliage. Chyna tightened her grip on the leash, shaking her head at her ill-behaved baby.

  “Looks like she’s trying to get away from you.”

  The sound of that deep, amused voice caused a delicious ripple to travel from her shoulders to the small of her back. Chyna turned and forgot what she was going to say; the sight of Jared rendered her speechless. He wore tan deck shorts and a plaid shirt of light blue, tan and white. It was unbuttoned to reveal a white tank underneath that hugged his washboard abs. Expensive sunshades covered his eyes.

  Sweet Jesus, the man looked good.

  “Hi,” Chyna said, surprised that she had use of her tongue when it was still hanging halfway out of her mouth.

  “I thought you said one o’clock,” he said. “It’s not even twelve-thirty.”

  She gestured to the dog sniffing inquisitively at Jared’s dark brown sandals. “Summer was getting restless, so we came a little early.”

  “Restless, huh?” Jared fell to his haunches and went straight for Summer’s ears, scratching the spot that automatically sent the dog’s right leg to tapping. Chyna knew with that one move, Jared had become Summer’s new best friend. She wondered if he could zero in on her spot that quickly.

  “Stop it.” Chyna chastised herself.

  She realized she’d spoken aloud when Jared looked up at her and asked, “Why? She likes it.”

  “Not you. I’m sorry,” she said with an offhand wave, while her stomach knotted with an anxious ache that had been there since their kiss on Friday. “So, are you hungry? I’m buying you lunch, remember?”

  “Will it involve you slipping your fingers into my mouth?” he asked with a decadent grin.

  Chyna’s stomach instantly clenched with need, and a sudden throb starting humming between her thighs.

  “They do sell some of the best French fries you’ll ever taste,” she answered, surprised by the huskiness in her tone.

  “If they’re coming from your fingers, then I have no doubt.”

  Oh, but this one was dangerous. The man had more sexual magnetism in his left pinky than the last three guys she’d dated combined. The fact that the last date she’d been on before Jared had been well over a year ago made the situation even more perilous. If she wasn’t careful Chyna knew she would get way more than she’d bargained for when she agreed to kicking back and having a little fun. The look in Jared’s eyes promised way more than just a little fun.

  Chyna gave Summer’s leash a tug and they headed toward the corner of the park at Twenty-third Street and Madison Avenue, where the Shake Shack, a popular burger stand, was located.

  “How’d the paper writing go last night?” Jared asked, retrieving the sunshades he’d hooked over the collar of his shirt and placing them on his eyes.

  “I stayed up way too late finishing the first draft, which is why I’ll probably fall asleep in the middle of eating my hamburger.”

  “I remember those days.” Jared laughed. “The worst was philosophy. I hated that class.”

  “I wouldn’t think philosophy would be popular with football players,” Chyna remarked.

  “It wasn’t, but I was a political science major. It was required.”

  “Political science? What did you plan to do with that?”

  “Law school,” he answered nonchalantly.

  Chyna nearly stumbled. “Ooo-kay, I so wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Not typical of your average football player?” he asked with a grin. “I know, but I come from a family of high achievers. It’s what was expected of me.”

  “Don’t tell me the multimillionaire football player is the underachiever in the family?” she scoffed.

  He chuckled. “Money-wise, I’m winning the race,” he said. Then he shrugged again. “My dad’s a navy doctor and my younger sister married a navy doctor. They’re stationed in Japan. In fact, my mom is there right now.”

  “What does your sister do?”

  “She’s working on her Ph.D. in…wait for it…philosophy.”

  “Ouch!” Chyna laughed. “And you couldn’t even get into law school. The shame.”

  He ran a hand over his close-cut hair. “I actually got into a few, but I decided football would be more fun. Is that the line?” Jared pointed to the procession of people snaking around the southeast corner of the park.

  “That would be it,” Chyna confirmed. “This is typical of a Sunday afternoon. The Shake Shack is known for their burgers, fries and shakes.”

  “How come I’ve never heard of this place? Looks like everyone else in New York has.”

  “Well, their wine list isn’t very extensive,” she teased.

  He halted his steps. “Will I ever live down that bottle of wine?”

  “Not anytime soon,” Chyna said with a breezy laugh.

  They made their way to the back of the line, but then Chyna was immediately treated to one of the perks of being in the company of a celebrity. People began giving up their spot in line as soon as they recognized Jared. Moments later, a teen in a turquoise Shake Shack T-shirt greeted them and escorted them to one of the tables under the towering trees of Madison Square Park.

  “It’s so exciting to have you her
e.” The girl beamed. “What would you like to order? It’s on the house.”

  Chyna was stunned, yet Jared carried on as if this red carpet treatment was no big deal.

  “Two burgers, two fries and two shakes,” Jared said. “Are you a chocolate or vanilla person?” he asked her.

  “Chocolate,” she uttered. “And a bottle of water, if that’s okay?”

  “Absolutely,” the girl answered. “I’ll bring it right out.”

  Chyna gestured to the girl’s retreating form. “What just happened there?”

  Jared grinned. “Welcome to my world. Nice isn’t it? I would never have gotten this type of treatment if I had gone to law school.”

  “Unbelievable.” She shook her head. “You ball players are so spoiled.”

  “We’re used to getting what we want.” His grin was the epitome of sexy.

  Gazing at his face, which was streaked with slashes of sunlight filtering between the branches high above, Chyna tilted her head to the side and asked quietly, “And just what is it you want, Jared Dawson?”

  For a moment he didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at her. Slowly, one side of his incredibly decadent mouth tipped up. He leaned forward and crossed his arms over the table.

  “I’d tell you,” he divulged in a suggestive whisper, “but it would scandalize Summer’s innocent ears. Maybe I can show you later, once we’ve tired her out.”

  His bold proposal settled erotic and hot in Chyna’s belly. She was saved from responding with the arrival of their food. For the next ten minutes Chyna watched in awe as Jared polished off his burger, his fries and half of hers, along with the super thick milkshake.

  He leaned back in the rickety chair and patted his stomach, which was still tight as a drumhead. How incredibly unfair was that?

  “Now I understand why people wait in line for an hour.” He reached down and picked up Summer from where she’d been resting at Chyna’s feet. “Okay, Summer, what do you say we work off some of this food?”

  Summer yelped, her tail wagging excitedly. The little traitor. A bit of attention from a cute boy and the dog forgot all about her mommy. Looking at said boy as he rose from the table, Chyna couldn’t blame Summer one bit.