Jaci Burton - Straddling the Line

“You’re welcome to join us, you know.”

The sounds of squeals and laughter drew her attention to the pool. She caught a flash of naked breasts, then shook her head.

“No, that’s okay. I’m tired. Besides, we have a business arrangement, remember?”

He gave her a look. “Sure. Whatever you say, Haven.” He went to the fridge and grabbed several beers. “I’ll see you in the morning then, right?”

“Right.”

Her stomach tightened, though she had no idea why she cared where he went and who he went with. She shouldn’t care. She didn’t care.

She walked up the stairs and went to her room, shutting the door behind her. She couldn’t shut out the sounds of laughter from below, though. And the memories came flooding back of every girl Trevor had been with in college. All the beautiful cheerleaders he’d dated, and how she’d longed for him to notice her as something other than his tutor.

He never had because he’d only been interested in how she could help him pass his classes.

She grabbed her iPod and shoved her earbuds in her ears to drown out the sounds from outside.

TREVOR SAT AT THE EDGE OF THE POOL WHILE TEN-Spot frolicked with the girls.

This had been a mistake. He’d known it, but Ten had hooked up with Audrey at the club, and Petra had come along for the ride.

Petra wasn’t even his type. He didn’t go for stacked blondes, especially the ones who were only interested in sleeping with a jock. The girl was obvious. She’d been grinding against him all night long, practically giving him a blowjob in the VIP section of the club. Trevor liked sex as much as the next guy, but he’d like to think he’d grown up a little and enjoyed being the aggressor. Plus, some of these women were a little too aggressive.

What the hell had happened to subtlety and seduction and letting things happen in their own time?

Maybe he was getting old, or just damn tired of the game.

Or maybe he was tired of women like Petra who were only interested in the exposure.

He didn’t want a girlfriend, anyway. He only wanted to focus on his career. And he was supposed to be concentrating on Haven, on making her feel better.

This wasn’t cutting it. He had to work harder, should have tried to persuade her to go out with him tonight.

Instead, he’d ended up with the drunk blonde in his pool who couldn’t care less which athlete she was with, as long as she got to say she slept with someone from the team.

Looked like Ten-Spot was going to get lucky with both of them, because after Trevor made it clear to Petra that he wasn’t interested, she’d pouted for about three seconds before joining Audrey in making Ten’s night.

Which suited Trevor just fine. He was tired, and he needed to figure out how to better help Haven.

He’d do better tomorrow.

WHEN TREVOR GOT UP THE NEXT MORNING, HE FOUND Haven in the sunroom, the smell of coffee drawing him there. He grabbed the pot and poured himself a cup.

“Hey, you’re up already.”

“Yes.” She sat at the table, her laptop and notepad sitting next to her. “Hammond was here early, cleaning up in the kitchen. He makes great coffee, too.” She looked around. “Where are your . . . friends?”

“They left not long after you went up to bed.”

“All of them?”

He crooked a smile. “Yeah. All of them. Petra isn’t my girlfriend. Or even a one-night stand, Haven.”

She diverted her attention to her laptop. “It’s not any of my business who you sleep with.”

Yeah, right. Except she’d looked irritated last night. And he had to admit that made him curious. Was she jealous? Why would she be? Was she interested in him? He looked over at her, so focused on whatever it was she was doing on her laptop.

“Ready to work so soon?”

“Whenever you are.”

“Coffee first. And then breakfast. Have you eaten yet?”

“I had some yogurt.”

He poured a cup of coffee. “Yogurt? That’s it?”

“It’s enough for me.”

He laughed. “No, it’s not. How about some bacon and eggs and pancakes? Maybe some biscuits and gravy?”

She finally drew her attention away from her laptop and looked at him. “Hammond’s not here. He said he had errands to run.”

“I told you I know how to cook.”

She gave him the once-over. “Maybe I should cook.”

He laughed. “I think you’ll just have to trust me.”

“Really. I’m good. The yogurt was fine.”

“It’s not fine. And I need to eat anyway. I need fuel for the day, and breakfast should be your biggest meal.”

“Uh, no thanks, really. I’m good.”

“Come with me. You can sit with me and drink your coffee while I’m cooking.”

She seemed to agree with that, following him into the kitchen and taking a seat at the island.

He pulled out several skillets. “I’ll make extra, just in case you change your mind.” She looked like she could use some calories, like she’d lost some weight since the last time he’d seen her.

“What are you working on over there?” he asked as he put bacon in the pan, then cracked eggs in a bowl.

“Just the outline for our program together.”

Deciding against pancakes, he took out bread and popped some in the toaster. “Okay. So what’s the plan?”

“It can wait until after breakfast.”

“Do you like orange juice?”

“What?”

“Orange juice. Do you like it?”

“Oh. Yes, I do. Why?”

He opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. “I also have carrot juice, apple juice, and cranberry juice. What would you prefer?”

“Um . . . orange juice is fine.”

He poured two glasses, then flipped the bacon over and got out two plates.

“Really, Trevor, I’m not hungry.”

He slid a smile her way. “No one said you had to eat.”

He finished the bacon, then put the eggs in the pan. In a couple of minutes, they were scrambled perfectly. He split them onto two plates and slid one in her direction. Not paying attention to her, he pulled up a chair at the breakfast bar and started eating.

It didn’t take her long to push her laptop to the side, grab the fork he’d laid on the plate, and dive into the food.

Never underestimate the power of the smell of bacon. She ate at least half of what he’d put on her plate, which he’d call a success.

When she finished, she pushed the plate to the side. “That was really good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re a good cook, Trevor.”

He leaned back in his chair. “This surprises you?”

“I don’t know why it should. You’re good at so many things.”

He shot her a grin. “Darlin’, you don’t know the half of it.”

She rolled her eyes and slid off the bar stool. “I’ll do the dishes.”

“You don’t have to do that. You’re a guest.” He got up and took her plate, and his, to the sink, rinsed them, and loaded them in the dishwasher. Then he washed the skillet.

“You’re just on your best behavior because I’m here, right?” she asked as she once again took her seat at the breakfast bar.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“First you cook, then you do dishes, too?”

He stacked the skillet on the dish rack, then grabbed the towel to dry his hands. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“This isn’t the Trevor I know.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

She studied him. “Maybe I don’t.”

“Good. Then you’ll have a lot of questions to ask for your super feature story on me, won’t you?”

She laughed. “I guess I will. Which, now that breakfast is over, we should get started on.”

“Sure. Let’s spread out a little. The breakfast bar isn’t comfortable. Where would you like to go?”