Page 5 of The Billionaire's Catch

His eyes twinkled. “The Goddess of War? How fitting.” Did he know she was making up every single word? “Would you like to dance?”

Before she could answer, he was already up and grasping for her hand. Then he was leading her away from the table and toward a dance floor lit with flashing multicolor lights. It was already full, but people moved aside for them, whispering, pointing, smiling with knowing expressions. He took her in his arms, spreading heat across her veins. Of course, an elite athlete would be an excellent dancer.

They moved together in perfect harmony. Sweat formed under the sequined black dress that hugged her curves. People brushed by them, and they pressed together, softness to hardness, plentiful curves to granite muscle. Hot breath and heat surrounded her, but at least it was a fast song.

The song ended. As a slow dance strummed a soft melody, she pivoted, but Jason grasped her around the waist, bringing them face-to-face. She should protest, could protest, yet the words caught in her throat. He towered over her, his heat surrounding her. He took her hand, and then they were swaying to the music.

Dara’s speeding heart belied the soft moves, as she edged ever closer to this man who was everything and nothing like he seemed. His body was so solid, so hard. He was warm and attractive, and the inexplicable urge to push even closer fired. Desire washed over her, the same as before but somehow even stronger. He gazed down at her, as if he could see straight through her mask.

The song stopped, and yet they continued to sway. Another started, but she barely noticed as they danced through a fathomless rhythm. All thoughts of the tragic past, the tumultuous present and undefined future vanished as pure physical desire took over. He stopped, yet she could not escape a hold as encompassing as iron shackles. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispered. He said it with such sincerity, such genuine truth, even she couldn’t doubt him.

She should do something, say something, to break the web he so effortlessly spun. She knew who he was, what he did, what he had done. But sapphire eyes captured her, unarming her defenses and storming her will. She couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything, as he slowly leaned closer, closer, closer until he was but inches away. She closed her eyes.

His lips took hers.

A world of sensation exploded as warm lips caressed her, as he massaged her softly and then bolder and bolder, as he probed more, demanded more. Her resistance fled as she pushed back into him, as she touched that sensual mouth, breathed in his scent. She moved with boldness, but he wouldn’t give up control, only holding her nearer. She longed to get even closer.

Suddenly the music changed, the slow ballad giving way to a fast song. It was enough to break the spell. What was she doing? She broke the kiss, pushing back with all her strength. For a second, his arms remained around her, holding her, capturing her. In the next moment, he let go, just enough for her to move back but not escape his hold completely. She gasped for breath, as he commanded desire, challenge… and something more.

What had she done?

“I have to go.” This had not been part of the plan. She wanted to see how he behaved, to see if his role in the scandal had been justified. She hadn’t planned on immersing herself in him. Without another word, she broke away and dashed into the crowd.

“Wait!”

She ignored the voice behind her. Luckily, the chords of sweaty bodies had become dense in the darkened chamber, and she slipped across the room and out the door without him seeing her. Yet true escape was futile, for soon enough he would learn her identity.

What would he do when he discovered the truth?

Where was she? Jason traversed the seedy street for the fourth time, as sharp unease tightened his chest, amid images of the mysterious woman in the unsavory downtown alley. The roads were all but deserted, the sidewalks inhabited by rough-looking men who would enjoy a beauty like his Athena. Despite her ridiculous assertion, she was not the Goddess of War, and no one should be walking in this area alone after dark. He’d searched for his disappearing beauty for an hour, and could only hope she’d made it home without incident.

Jason turned back, not to the club but to his car. He’d had enough of carousing for one night. Actually, he’d had enough for a lifetime. It had been difficult to plaster a smile on his face, to accept when his buddy had placed that beer in front of him. How could they think he would drink when he would be driving? He’d only gone because he wanted to show his team that life goes on.

His team minus one.

A memory flashed, retelling the minutes that had ruined one life and forever defined his. He forced it back to the recesses of his mind, and images of a woman rose to replace it. It was unusual for anything to take his mind off the accident, and he wondered of its significance. No matter his reputation, he did not usually kiss women whose acquaintance was measured in minutes. There was something about her, something special that struck him immediately. It left one path: He would discover her identity.

He should check to make sure she was okay, but he couldn’t do that if he didn’t know her name. Fortunately, they kept a detailed log of the guests at The Sweet Spot. He took out his cell. Fairytale princess or Goddess of War – time to discover who she really was.

A few minutes, later he had a name.

Dara. It didn’t take long for the owner of the club to give it to him. It was unique and beautiful, and far more suiting than Athena. And yet her surname shocked him: Everett. As in Pat Everett, owner of the Florida Dragons Major League Baseball team and his boss. It couldn’t be a coincidence. She had to be related to Pat somehow, related to the team. A quick Internet search confirmed it. She was his niece.

Did this have to do with the scandal? Had they sent someone to spy on him, to make sure he wasn’t out of control? He had only spent a few hours with her, but he couldn’t deny the connection, a rare spark. She may be a good actress, but he’d bet his last signing bonus she felt it, too.

At least he now had a way to contact her. And he would. He’d learn why she followed him to the club, and why she pretended to be a stranger. Then he’d decide what to do about it.

Time for the prey to become the predator.

“I’m just so furious, Mom.” Dara sank down on the stone bench, slipping into the heavy scent of gardenia-scented mist. The surface was heated and hard, covered in jagged pebbles that stabbed her thighs like tiny daggers, yet the familiar sensation was somehow comforting. If she could feel, she was alive. “I have to stay professional, but it’s hard. Do you know what he did?”

A hundred memories whispered from the past, etching tragic details in repetitive refrain, like a warped merry-go-round from a horror novel. Her voice was also a whisper, but of course they heard. “It should have been a good, no, a great night. After that win, everyone was exuberant, yet for Jason the natural high wasn’t enough. He pushed drink after drink on the kid.”

She paused. “I know what you’re thinking. Alan wasn’t technically a kid, but he was barely out of high school. Jason not only encouraged him to drive but gave him the keys to his car. He may as well have gift wrapped them with a big bow and a handwritten note. They went joyriding together. And now…” She stopped. Breathed. Shuddered. “Now Alan is paralyzed and may never walk again. It’s a miracle he didn’t kill anyone.”

“I’m sure you understand, Dad.” She turned to her father. “How can I deal with a man who would do such a thing?” Another breath, another regret, another resolution. “But I have no choice. I’m a professional, and I can’t let my personal feelings get in the way. When I was with him, something happened, something beyond the anger, past the fury. It’s almost like we connected. Is it possible to be furious and attracted to someone at the same time?”

Wry humor lifted her lips. “Dad, you probably don’t want to hear this. I know you still think of me as your little girl.” She pushed a smile to her face. “Enough about me. Don’t think I forgot your anniversary.” She held up the bouquet of marigolds, freshly plucked and wrapped with a gingham yellow bow. “Mom, your favorite. And I gave to your favorite charity in your honor.” She looked heavenward, then back down. Her voice came out quieter. “In your memory.”

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