Xavier was a womanizer. I had seen how he made a move. He was never restrained. Of course, with those women he wanted them in his bed and they made it clear that they wanted to be in his bed too, so he knew his touch was welcome. I supposed it was a good thing that he didn’t want me in that way, and even better that he didn’t know I wanted what all these women did. “What did my mother want from you? Did she try to meddle?”
It took my brain a heartbeat to process his words. My synapses were on a break. “Nothing important. And no, she didn’t.” I wasn’t sure why I was lying to Xavier because I was almost certain that Georgia had, in fact, tried to meddle.
“That doesn’t sound like my mother. Meddling is her favorite pastime when it comes to me.”
“That actually sounds a lot like Fiona.”
I laughed, peering up at Xavier, and suddenly our faces were too close. Xavier’s breath became my breath as we stared at each other. Pull back.
But my body was frozen in time and space, because I couldn’t stop looking at him, at those gray eyes, at that mouth, which spewed self-assured bullshit half the time but the rest of the time, it said funny and heartwarming bullshit that made my stupid little heart skip a beat. And heaven have mercy, I leaned forward. That was all the encouragement Xavier needed because suddenly there was no air left between us and he kissed me, and there was nothing restrained about Xavier in that moment.
And yet, it wasn’t a Xavier kiss, not like the ones I’d witnessed.
Not the let’s-get-this shit-going kind, or the this-should-shut-you-up kind. It wasn’t impatient. He cupped my cheek and kissed me, consumed me, with his lips and tongue. I was lightheaded from his taste, his warmth, his touch. I had never been kissed like this, not anything close to it, hadn’t thought it possible to lose myself in a kiss, in the feel of someone like that.
His other hand touched my back and he pulled us closer until his warmth was everywhere. The fabric of my shirt might as well not have been there at all. My body responded, eager and hungry for his touch. I wanted Xavier. My body did, but so did my heart. What did this mean to him? His palm moved away from my back to my ribs, the touch gentle. I stiffened. I needed to stop this now.
But Xavier did before I could.
When he pulled back, I blinked at him, stunned. Xavier, too, looked almost surprised. For a while neither of us said anything. I cleared my throat and brought a bit more distance between us, but stayed in Xavier’s arm because it was too cold to leave his warmth. My eyes were drawn back up to the stunning night sky, trying to get distracted by the sight, trying to ignore the fireworks in my body and the way Xavier was still watching me.
This kiss could ruin everything.
Xavier’s warm manly scent clung to me, and I could still taste him on my lips, still feel him. I tried to think of something to say, anything, but my mind drew a complete blank.
Xavier finally looked away and up at the night sky as well. He was tense. My gaze was drawn to his hand, which was resting in his lap, and my eyes grew wide. I jerked my head up. There was an unmistakable bulge in his pants.
I had done that to him.
I, Evie, the dumpling. I had to resist the urge to drag him closer and continue the kissing.
Eventually, Xavier sighed. “Will this make things awkward?”
“We don’t need to let it get awkward. We are two adults who can handle the situation in a grown-up way, right?” My voice was strangely rough and breathless.
Xavier glanced my way, and I swallowed. “Yeah,” he rasped, and his eyes darted back down to my lips.
Awkwardness galore it was.
“Maybe we should head back,” I said. I had a feeling neither Xavier nor I were in a state of mind to make responsible decisions at this point.
He nodded and removed his arm from around me. I quickly slid off the truck bed and walked around the car, my pulse still racing in my veins. Xavier and I didn’t talk as we drove back through the darkness.
It only got worse when we entered the dark house. Only Sherlock and Watson greeted us. The rest of the family was probably already in bed. We walked up the stairs together, Xavier close behind me. I could feel his presence and wondered what he saw when he looked at me. A sum of imperfections? Had this kiss been a fluke? Had he been horny and kissed me because there was nobody else around to make a move on? Maybe his family’s meddling had gone to his head after all. Whatever had prompted the kiss, it wasn’t for the same reasons I had enjoyed it.
I stopped in front of my bedroom door. Xavier was closer than I’d thought, towering over me, staring at me with a look I couldn’t read. “Good night,” I said quickly, before I did something stupid like ask him in.
“Good night, Evie,” Xavier said quietly as I slipped in and closed the door in his face.
I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. What had I done?
Regret over the kiss was only a small part of my feelings, but it was the worst—because more than the kiss, I regretted that I hadn’t allowed Xavier to take things further.
I leaned against the wall for several minutes, stunned by what had happened. I’d kissed Evie. I’d kissed so many women, and pretty much every one of my assistants, but for some reason this felt different.
Evie wasn’t a girl I’d ever considered my type. Yet Evie’s personality would have made her attractive even if she were ugly.
But she was gorgeous, perfect with all her imperfections, and despite her amazing breasts and squeeze-worthy ass, that wasn’t the reason why I had kissed her. When I was close to her, silences didn’t feel like missed opportunities to leave my mark; they weren’t loaded or awkward. We could sit beside each other in comfortable silence, content in each other’s company, and moreover, content being ourselves. Fuck, I sounded like a fucking psychological love horoscope.
I dragged myself over to my room, reliving the kiss. Of course, my cock sprang to attention as I remembered Evie’s taste, her scent, the breathy moan she’d released, the way her breasts had brushed my arm. I couldn’t remember the last time a make-out session had left me this desperate for more, along with the crushing realization that there would never be, could never be.
Evie had kissed me like she meant it, like she too wanted to take things further, but she had stiffened, a fucking wake-up call if I ever needed one. I couldn’t sleep with Evie. I didn’t want to lose her, and sex would make that outcome inevitable.
Things remained awkward between Evie and me the next morning and of course my family picked up on it, exchanging questioning looks, and whispering behind our backs when they thought Evie and I weren’t paying attention.
To my surprise, neither my mother nor Marc or Milena interrogated me about it, but shortly before it was time to leave, Willow used our goodbye to speak her mind. I crouched in front of her, my hands cradling hers as she regarded me with a soft smile. “I really like Evie. She’s funny, and nice.”
“She is,” I agreed, chancing a glance at the rest of my family, who were hugging Evie as if she were the long-lost daughter they couldn’t bear leaving.
“Will you bring her over again?”
I sighed, pressed a kiss to Willow’s palm and straightened. “I don’t know.”
“I wish you were dating her.”
“I don’t date, Willow, and what’s more important, I don’t discuss my love life with my little sister.” I bent down and kissed her forehead to soften my words. Willow clung to my arms, forcing me to meet her eyes. “I’m not a little girl anymore. Being stuck in a wheelchair doesn’t mean I don’t see things. And I see how you’re looking at her, and how she’s looking at you.”
Willow had a point. I often ignored the fact that she’d soon be a grown-up but she was wrong about everything else. Whatever she saw, it was born of wishful thinking on her part. At least, that’s what I told myself as I hugged my sister goodbye.
I have a feeling that you might be the one to crack through his shell.
I’d occasionally entertained the idea that
maybe Georgia’s words could be true, that the kiss meant something, that there could be more between Xavier and me.
That proved what kind of idiot I was.
One day after our return, I entered Xavier’s apartment only to hear a woman screaming her head off in obvious ecstasy.
That was the answer I wanted and the wake-up call I needed. The kiss we’d shared had meant nothing to him. It shouldn’t have mattered because it had only been one kiss. Nothing to write home about, right? But that kiss…the memory still gave my heart palpitations.
For a moment I considered turning around and leaving. He was already awake and knew how to get to training. And maybe he’d forget and be late. Then the coach would put him on the bench for the next test game. The start of the season was only three weeks away, so he was less tolerant when it came to Xavier’s bullshit.
But I was Xavier’s assistant and even his friend, and being petty wasn’t in my nature, so I turned on the espresso unit so he could finish his business without me overhearing every second of it.
Taking a deep breath, I waited for Xavier to be done with his woman of the night and busied myself sorting through his mail. The only appointment, except for training, was something Xavier had added to the calendar only yesterday evening after he’d dropped me off at home. It said only “W.S. afternoon,” and I had no clue what to make of it. But the more pressing problem was that I needed to get Xavier to training in exactly forty minutes, and he was still busy banging his date.
My mouth twisting, I took out the milk and cups, and made myself a cappuccino. I sipped at it when more screaming rang out above, only this time it sounded angry, and a woman stormed onto the landing, half-dressed and looking royally pissed. Usually women left Xavier’s bedroom with a dreamy little smile or a look of sick infatuation. The anger came later, when he didn’t call them back. “You’re an asshole.”
He was.
Xavier stepped out of the bedroom, in his white Calvin Kleins, looking like a wet dream come true. “Listen—“
She interrupted him. “What’s my name?”
He grimaced.
He rubbed his head, eyes finding me. I had no clue who she was. She wasn’t someone I knew from the tabloids, so he couldn’t hope for my help in this case. I smiled at him over the rim of my cup as I took a leisurely sip of my coffee.
One corner of his mouth tipped up. He didn’t even care that he didn’t remember the woman’s name.
“You don’t remember, right?” she hissed. “I can deal with that, but calling me by a different woman’s name? Really? You are a dickhead.” The woman stormed down the remaining steps. Xavier followed without hurry. I lifted the lever of the espresso unit and the dark liquid poured into Xavier’s cup. I added one cube of sugar how he liked it. It was pretty much the only sugar he allowed in his meal plan.
The woman’s eyes landed on me, recognition flashing in her eyes. It was difficult to stay in the background as Xavier’s assistant. Her gaze darted from Xavier to me. “Let me guess, you are Evie?”
I frowned. “Yes. I’m Xavier’s assistant.”
She shook her head, then she left without another word.
“What was that?” I asked, handing Xavier the cup.
He took it. “The usual,” he said, then added quickly, “What’s on today?”
I paused. Xavier never asked about his appointments on his own accord. He needed ass-kicking and reminding twenty-four-seven. “Training in thirty-five minutes so you need to get your ass moving, and something you marked down as W.S. but I don’t know what it is. You never told me.”
Xavier downed his coffee and looked almost uncomfortable when he said, “It’s short for women’s shelter.”
“Oh,” I murmured. I hadn’t expected that. “What do you want there?”
“They asked me to pay them a visit.”
“Okay. Who of the press will be there?” I asked, taking out my phone to jot down the names and gather information on them. I needed to make sure Xavier didn’t say something politically incorrect. I was actually surprised he’d come up with the idea to improve his image by visiting such a facility. It wasn’t his usual style.
“No press,” Xavier muttered. He put down the cup without another word and headed back upstairs to get ready, I supposed. He emerged ten minutes later in his training attire. His expression was closed off, so I didn’t bug him about the women’s shelter despite my curiosity. Maybe he was still pissed because of the incident with his conquest, though usually that never got to him.
Once we were in Xavier’s car, I asked, “Will you go alone to the shelter?”
Xavier shook his head slowly as he steered the car onto the street. “I want you to come with me.”
“Okay,” I said. Somehow this was a big deal for him.
We made it to training with five minutes to spare. Coach Brennan came toward me and gave me a high five like he’d done every day for the last couple of weeks. “Seven weeks on time. That’s a new record. You deserve a prize, young lady.”
“She’s allowed to see my pretty face every day. That’s a prize if there ever was one,” Xavier drawled as he threw the rugby ball from one hand to the other.
I rolled my eyes at him, then smiled at the coach. “I deserve accolades from the queen, if you ask me.”
Brennan laughed. “I love her.”
Xavier regarded me with slightly narrowed eyes, still playing with the ball. Then Connor bumped into him, and the two of them began shoving each other in jest.
Xavier was oddly quiet on our way to the women’s shelter in the afternoon. These strange silences had become more frequent, and not just since the kiss.
“Why isn’t the press invited to this?” I asked. “If you’d let me know in advance, I could have arranged something. You could really use that kind of positive publicity Xavier.”
“It’s nobody’s business what I do in my spare time.”
I huffed. “Xavier, you flout pretty much every aspect of your life for everyone to see. People know about your women, your party escapades, your morning, training and evening routines.”
He parked the car in a narrow side street in Yennora, a suburb of Sydney where I’d never been, apparently one of the poorest neighborhoods in the region. Many of the houses were run down, and Xavier’s car drew unnecessary attention toward us. “That’s business.”
I tilted my head. His family had never been in the press. He hadn’t even mentioned them in interviews except for very general references. “How are your sexcapades business?”
Xavier grinned cockily. “They keep me on everyone’s lips.”
The way he said it held more than a little innuendo.
Of course he couldn’t leave it at that. “And in everyone’s mouth.”
I snorted. “You are a dickhead.”
That wolfish grin twisted my insides into a spitfire-hot knot. “I’m giving people what they want. The press, women, even the team’s marketing people.”
“And what is it you want?” I asked curiously.
Xavier didn’t say anything, only stared out of the windshield, leaving me to stare at his striking profile. My fingers itched to reach out and rake my nails over the dark stubble. The air became stuffy and hot inside the car. I shook the collar of my blouse to cool down. Xavier’s eyes darted down to my chest. I released the fabric, swallowed, and met his intent gaze. “We should get out. It’s getting too hot.”
Xavier’s mouth twitched and I narrowed my eyes at him, but then quickly got out of the car before things could get even hotter.
I glanced around. There wasn’t a sign anywhere that hinted to a women’s shelter, but I supposed that was necessary for protection. “Are you sure this is the right address?” I asked.
Xavier nodded. “I’ve been here twice before.”
As if on cue, a door in the three-story house in front of us swung open and a small, round woman with salt-and-pepper hair in a pixie cut stepped out. Like the other houses in the street the paint was peeling o
ff the front and the dumpsters were spilling over.
Xavier headed toward her and shook her hand. “This is my friend Evie, as I mentioned in my call.”
The woman nodded and greeted me with a firm shake of her hand.
She led us through the shelter, which was organized like a residential community with a common living room and kitchen, and several bedrooms for the women and their children. The inside was in a much better condition than the outside. “I can’t show you all the rooms because some women don’t want to be seen by anyone. They are worried.”
Xavier nodded. “I know. You don’t have to show me everything.”
“We want to make sure you see that your money has been used to do good, Mr. Stevens. We don’t get nearly enough support through government funds, so without your money we couldn’t have done this renovation. There are so many women who need a safe place, and we appreciate that you help us give it to them.”
Xavier nodded, but didn’t say anything. It was surprising to see him this…serious. We moved into the communal part of the shelter with a huge kitchen and several dining tables. A few women and children had gathered in the room. I had to stifle a gasp when I noticed a woman whose face was swollen, her skin red and blue, one arm in a cast. Two girls were with her. The older of the two had a bruise on her cheek. My heart clenched tightly seeing it, but Xavier’s reaction drew my attention toward him. He looked murderous. I had never seen that kind of anger on his face. His expression changed the second the girls turned to him, becoming gentle and kind.
The older girl rushed toward Xavier, a book clutched to her chest. He got down on his haunches at once as she smiled shyly at him and held out a friendship book. “Can you write in it?”
Xavier’s eyes flickered to the bruise on her cheek and he gave her a gentle smile. “Sure. It’s my pleasure.” He took it and she stepped close to his side, wringing her hands nervously. “What’s your name?”