Chapter 12

Ican't take my mind off tonight.

Apprehension and excitement eat away at me as the hours tick by to seven p.m. I'm nervous to go out in public with Jon. I'm a private person, and the thought of having my face plastered across the web and labeled as his latest conquest gnaws away at me.

Not just that, but what about my family? Jack would likely be delighted but Darcy. Seeing her mum being cast across media outlets with a world-famous athlete known for his playboy ways? Shit, this is a bad idea, and I need to squash it, fast.

I need to cancel.

I quickly grab my phone to text Jon and explain but see the time is now six-thirty. Double shit. He'll be on his way by now.

So instead, I scroll past his number and land on Kate's. Thankfully, at this time the office is mostly empty, and other than a few cleaners and Mark, who's tucked away in his office, the coast is clear.

Kate answers on the second ring. "Missing me already?" she purrs down the phone.

"So, I have an issue."

"Okay, go on."

"How do I put this? Well, it's like this. I got into work this morning and…um."

"Just say it, babe." Kate gets to the point, but her tone is one of gentle concern.

"Jon turned up at my office this morning, you know after the pictures went public from Saturday night. He wanted to explain, which he did. He then asked me to go out with him for dinner tonight so ‘we can talk' as he put it. He's picking me up outside the office at seven, and I'm dressed like an old woman who can't be bothered. I don't even have perfume in my bag. I haven't washed my hair and God only knows what he wants to talk with me about or where he's taking me and?—"

"And breathe," Kate interjects before pausing for a few seconds.

I can hear voices in the background on the phone, and I worry that I'm disturbing her evening, but then she continues. "Look, my best advice is to go out with him, let him talk with you and see what he has to say. If you don't, I know you, babe, and you'll be ruminating forever if you don't hear him out. That said, honey, just…"

Kate pauses again, blowing out a breath. "Just be clear on what you want from this evening. I get good vibes from him, and I trust him to take you out but don't get carried away and don't let feelings come into it. He has a reputation, and you're fresh out of a marriage wanting to ‘enjoy your independence again,'" she quotes my previous sentiment back at me. "If you want to have fun with him then be my guest. Christ, I couldn't blame you for wanting to climb that like a tree!" She releases a girly giggle before her tone snaps back to serious once more. "But for all that is holy, don't get emotionally involved with him. Seeing you so upset at lunch yesterday reminded me of how vulnerable you are, and I don't want to have to kick his ass when I'm picking you up off the floor if he breaks your heart."

She's right. Oh my god, she's right.

I drop my elbows onto my desk and lean forward. "I'm also worried about being seen out with him. What are people going to say about me? I've got my children to think about and you know how the press is."

"This is different. It's not some random Saturday night hookup, heading back to a hotel where you're all over each other. Plus, the press can predict where he'll be after games. A random Monday night, not so much. This isn't his first rodeo, babe, and he knows you won't want attention. Just go with it."

I exhale a deep calm breath. "Why are you so wise?"

"Not just a pretty face."

I feel the tension in my shoulders begins to ease. "I needed this. I needed you to talk me down from the ledge and knock some sense into me."

"So, what are you going to do about tonight?" Kate asks.

"Exactly as you say," I confirm without hesitation. Sitting up straighter in my chair and with more conviction to my voice. "I'll let him take me out, hear what he's got to say, and if he does suggest more, I'll tell him no. I don't do hookups, Kate, you know I never have, and I don't think I can see sex as casual without catching feelings for someone. So, we remain friends, and I definitely can't kiss him again, because…wow."

"I'm sorry, come again?" Kate blurts down the phone.

"I sort of kissed him when he came to the office. Mark pretty much caught us in the act too."

Kate bursts out laughing, like proper cackles. "Yeah, good luck keeping this one strictly friends, babe. Something tells me there's going to be benefits along the way and, hot damn, I'm jealous."

Recalling the kiss we shared earlier today sends my mind into a dreamy state. I can feel his touch on my cheek, the way he wrapped his rough palm around my nape, his hard length against my body, and how he took my mouth with his. I've never felt so possessed by a man, so wanted. But the hard truth is we aren't on the same wavelength.

"I can't romanticize Jon Morgan." I release a heavy sigh and feel my shoulders sag with the weight of my reality.

"I think that's for the best, honey. I just want you to be happy," Kate replies before adding, "I gotta go, but call me, and let me know how it all went, and you know where I am if you need me tonight. I'll have my phone on me."

I grab my jacket and bag and make my way downstairs to meet Jon. "Love you, babe, mwah!"

We end the call just as I reach the elevator. Hitting the button for the lobby, I inhale a few calming breaths and repeat my mantra not to fall for this guy.

My mantra went straightout the window the moment I stepped outside the doors.

He's going to be the death of me. Leaning against a gleaming pearly white Dodge Charger in dark gray trousers, a long-sleeved, white shirt, and smart, black dress shoes, Jon Morgan exudes sex. When I say sex, I don't mean the thank you very much that was a lovely night kind of sex. Oh no. I mean passionate, all-night-long, rail you into the mattress until you see stars and then rail you some more sex. Fucking you in each room of his apartment, taking you on every surface, and worshipping your body until your voice fails you.

As I walk toward him, his corded muscles strain against the white fabric of his shirt and his trousers cling to his incredible thighs, showcasing the delights that no doubt lie beneath. His dark-brown hair is styled back and away from his face tonight, and I can tell he's had the sides freshly clipped. His steely-gray eyes sparkle from the city lights, and his perfectly full lips curl up into a smile, popping his dimples as I near him. He's shaved since this morning too, but I can still see a small amount of stubble cast across his strong jawline.

He is truly a work of art, worthy of taking center stage in any gallery. Without a doubt, he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen, and as he steps forward to take my tote bag from my shoulder and open the passenger door for me, I'm also certain he is the most beautiful man I will ever lay eyes on.

"Good evening, Your Highness," Jon greets me in his deep smooth voice and there's a cocky glint in his eyes.

"Why, thank you." I play along taking the passenger door from him before getting into the car. A very nice car. All black inside with fancy, green interior lighting. It smells of Jon; his spicy cologne wraps around me which I admit does tingly things to my lady parts. I wonder how many other women have sat in this seat and felt the same? He leans across and buckles me in, and that simple act alone sends a need straight to my core. This man does things to my body and heart I'm scared to admit.

Turning to me with one arm draped over the steering wheel he lightly drums his fingertips on the dash, and I can't help but notice his gaze move from my eyes to my mouth. I automatically sweep my tongue across my bottom lip, remembering what happened the last time he looked at me like that. I half expect him to lean in and kiss me again. I know I want him to, even if we shouldn't.

He doesn't though, instead, moving his eyes back up to mine."How was your day, Angel?"

"Busy. I had so much to get through, made worse by this random man turning up at the office first thing this morning, demanding to talk and take me out tonight." I can't help but tease and yes, flirt. Because I have zero self-control. Nada.

Jon's eyes sparkle. "Oh, is that right? Well, I need the details on this guy for making moves on my girl. Can't say as I blame him for trying though."

My girl. My. Girl.

Oh, Jesus.

"So, where are we off to then? I could go for fried chicken." I'm not joking. I'm absolutely starving, having worked through my lunch break.

"Sorry to disappoint, but no fried chicken tonight; we're hitting up the finest restaurant in town." Jon cranks the engine as it roars to life. It's an absolute beast. I love cars and have a decent knowledge of them. My dad was a fan of racing, having spent many years marshaling at events, and I guess to some extent, his passion has rubbed off on me, especially when I went along with him as a young girl to places like Silverstone, Mallory Park, and Donnington.

In stark contrast to the utter masculinity around me, Miley Cyrus's "Midnight Sky" starts up, and I can't help but burst into fits of giggles. After a few seconds of trying to settle my hysterics, I look over to find Jon side-eyeing me with a full pout spread across his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, petal."

He shrugs before putting the car in gear. I hadn't noticed it was a manual car and there's something about the way he shifts between gears and presses the pedals that has me fluttering all over again."That's okay, baby. We can't all have great taste in music."

We both laugh at the same time, and any tension my body was harboring in anticipation of this evening instantly eases. There's clearly far more to this man than the bravado the press portrays—or perhaps what he lets the world see.

Clearing my throat and trying to stay on task for tonight, I gaze out the passenger window, the street looking somewhat familiar. "Where are we going?"

"I told you, the best restaurant in town."

I look down at my old gray skirt which is now sporting a coffee stain from earlier. "I told you; I'm not dressed for anywhere nice."

Jon turns to look at me, eyes ablaze with heat that instantly radiates to my cheeks. "You look fucking stunning."

I scoff at his comment. I'm by no means vain, but even I can see I'm hardly dressed for fine dining. "Oh, come on. I look like I haven't washed my hair and just finished a long day in the office. You, on the other hand, you look like..." I stop, my eyes taking him in, my body heating to boiling point at the sight. "Well, you look lovely."

Jon chuckles quietly. "You think I look lovely do you, Angel? Why, thank you."

I flush, hard, and turn back toward the window to hide my reaction. Fucking lovely?

On a Monday evening, the streets are relatively quiet, so we reach our destination quickly. Jon indicates, pulling into an underground garage and the electric doors open automatically.

I'm now more than curious. "So other than it being the finest restaurant in town, where exactly are we?"

He pulls down a ramp into a small car park lined with at least half a dozen beautiful vehicles. Amongst them, I note a black Audi A7 with all-black wheels, a silver Porsche Cayman, a midnight-blue Mercedes G-Wagon, and a BMW M 1000 motorbike. Whoa, we really are somewhere nice, and exclusive, clearly.

Thankfully, there's one space remaining, so Jon swings the car around before shifting into reverse. He throws his arm round the back of my seat and fires a wink at me before backing into the space. "You'll see. You're not good with surprises are you, Angel?"

Well, wherever we are, I'm heading straight to the bathroom to change my underwear.

He kills the engine. "Hang on."

He jogs around to my side, tapping his knuckles lightly on the hood, and then opens my door and reaches across to release my belt; he smells insanely good. Taking my hand, he helps me out of the car and places my tote back on my shoulder.At this point, I'm wondering whether to issue a missing persons ad because every ounce of feminism has abandoned me, and even more worrying—I'm not that mad about it either.

There's at least a foot in height difference between us, and it shows as I glance up at him. "Thank you."

He smiles sweetly then laces his fingers through mine and leads me to a pair of black double doors. Pushing through, we're met with an elevator, and once inside, Jon leans across and presses a button behind my back. His eyes find mine again, and as the elevator begins to climb, he doesn't say anything, just simply studies my face. I've noticed him looking intensely at my eyes a few times, almost like he's enraptured by them. I could say the same about his.

The elevator pings as it comes to a stop, and the doors slowly open to reveal…his apartment. I throw my head back in laughter as he steps out, taking my hand once again.

"Told you, Angel, the best restaurant in town."

"Oh, is it now?" I jest.

"Better believe it," he shoots back.

"What did you do? Hire a private chef or something?" I pull up onto my tiptoes to get a better view of the kitchen over his shoulder.

Jon's hands fly to his chest, clutching at his heart in mock hurt. "Private chef?" he exclaims. "No need for a chef when you possess these cooking skills." He wiggles his fingers in front of him with a cheeky grin on his lips.

Yes, and I can imagine those hands aren't just good for cooking either.

"Well, something certainly smells gorgeous." The aroma making its way down the hallway toward me is delicious.

"Oh, it definitely does," Jon smirks. "Come on, let's go eat." He waves at me over his shoulder as he walks into the kitchen. "I need to check on the beef."