Preview of The Love Experiment

Decker Jamison knew his past would catch up with him someday, and it seemed that today was the day. That he was sitting in his favorite sports bar, Double Ds, while his former teammates fought for the Stanley Cup, made it even worse because the place was packed shoulder to shoulder like commuters during Los Angeles rush hour. It was a sea of black, silver, and white, with every eye glued to the big flatscreens plastered on every wall of the joint.

This was the last place he wanted to be when news of this sorts broke. All it would take was a single fan recognizing him and it would be game over.

“How bad is it?” Decker asked over the loud chatter of the bar as he squinted at the TMZ article on his phone.

“Keep reading,” his older brother and business partner, Brian said from the bar stool next to him.

Deck didn’t have to look past the headline to know that he’d screwed the pooch—or a set of twins who wanted their fifteen minutes of fame.

Decker took a long swallow of beer and nearly spit it out when he read: Holly and Molly, twin daughters of Stan Castle and heiresses to the Castle Homes fortune, nailed the assist when they decided to take their family’s construction empire with NHL’s five-time player of the year, Decker “Drill ‘em Hard” Jamison, from partners to paramour with a single goal.

Brian had been wooing Stan Castle for over a year, which was how their construction company, Jamison Builders, had landed a ten-million-dollar deal with Castle Homes. It was the biggest contract to date and Decker had just put it, and his brother’s respect, in jeopardy. It was the last part that had a wave of shitty emotions churning in his stomach.

Decker had already blown his hockey career by playing it fast and loose on the ice. And now it seemed like he was going to blow his family’s business by playing it fast and loose off the ice.

He pulled his Jamison Builders cap lower to shade his face, then turned to Brian, and met his dark gaze. His brother was dressed in his typical uniform of jeans and a button down, looking more cooperate than construction, except for his hands which were those of a working man, calloused and scarred—kind of like he and Decker’s relationship. Something Decker was hoping desperately to repair.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Decker said.

“Maybe start with, “I’m fucking sorry. Then you tell me how you’re going to fix it.”

Decker ran a hand down his face. Just like when he blew his knee out, he didn’t know how to fix it. He only hoped that this wasn’t the end of his second career. But looking at his brother, if he didn’t come up with a solution—and fast—he’d let his team down once again.

Only this team was family.

Their father had founded Jamison Builders with nothing more than a truck and toolbox to his name. And while Decker had been chasing his dream of fame and glory, Brian had given up his own to run the family business after their dad had died. And now, with one thoughtless swing of his hockey stick, Decker might run it into the ground.

“We have millions tied up in this project. If we lose Castle, we lose our reputation and the chance at working with other builders,” Brian said as if Decker wasn’t aware of the stakes.

The money didn’t matter. Decker had enough to buy a small country. But it was their father’s name that he wouldn’t be able to salvage.

“We have a contract in place. There is no legal way he can back out of it now.”

“According to Castle, he can and says he will,” Brian informed him.

“He knows?”

“He left me several messages. Hell, my phone has been blowing up since Laruen showed me the article,” he said referring to his wife. “All he has to prove is that you acted in a way that could adversely affect their image and it’s game over for us.”

“It was consenting, single adults blowing off steam. Not five o’clock news material.”

“You didn’t just sleep with Castle’s daughter. You slept with both. At the same time.”

Yeah, he read that part. Only it wasn’t true.

“I didn’t do it,” he whispered so that only his brother could hear.

“What?” Brain asked with so much disbelief it tore at Decker’s gut. “She’s swinging your jersey like a lasso. Plus, that guy looks a hell of a lot like you.”

“First off, just because she’s swinging my jersey doesn’t mean I screwed her. And that video is grainy as hell. It could be any dark haired white guy who played for the Knights over the past five years. As for the twins, I remember them, remeber the night, but I didn’t go home with them. I was with Cami,” he defended and like always, whenever he brought up his ex-fiancé’s name it was like a punch to the gut. Not that he wasn’t over her—he was—but because it brought back all the anger that came with being used for his fame and money.

Relief overtook his brother’s expression. “Thank Christ. Then all you have to do is tell the press that it’s not you.”

And this was where it got tricky. “I can’t.”

“What the hell do you mean you can’t?” Brain snaped.

“Because if I do and the find out who is really on the tape it could ruing a man’s marriage.”

“That asshole was married?”

“Not then, but he is now. and he’s going through a rough patch. He’s got a little girl and another one on the way. This will destroy what’s left of his marriage.” Decker shook his head. “I can’t.”

“But you can let your own niece think that her uncle is the kind of man who sleeps with a set of twins and films it?”

His heart slammed against his sternum and regret hit hard. “Ella knows?”

“One of her friends texted her the video.”

Shit.

Decker couldn’t even imagine how that conversation went. Just like he couldn’t imagine how he was going to explain this to his niece without sounding like a douche. Ella was only twelve and one of the best things in Decker’s world. He loved being an uncle and he didn’t want to jeopardize that.

Decker rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I can make this right?”

“By staying silent?”

“I can’t put a teammate’s family in jeopardy.”

Brian retreated as if Decker had just told him he’d taken out a hit on his family’s life. “But you can jeopardize your own family? Jesus, man. That is such a classic Deck move. When are you ever going to put this family first?”

And there it was. His brother’s only weapon against—the words that he knew Decker had no defense against. Because he had put his team ahead of his family once and he’d regretted it ever since. But this time was different and Brian knew it.

“We can weather it. My friend won’t. As long as you know it isn’t true, I’m good taking the fall.”

“Don’t you get that none of that matters. All the media will report is that your act-now think-later reputation is alive and well,” Brian pointed out. “That’s the last thing we want potential clients to associate with Jamison Builders.”

Decker swore because his brother was right. Even though Decker wasn’t a kiss and tell kind of guy, the women he dated seemed to be. Then the puck heard around the world happened and he was so focused on PT and getting back on the ice he ignored all the gossip, too tired to deny the rumors.

Maybe he should have paid more attention.

“I’ll call Castle and fix this.”

Brian laughed but there was no humor behind it. “And how would that go? “Sorry I looks like I screwed your daughters, but I can’t talk about the night in question.” Hell, for all we know he thinks you leaked it.”

“Why the hell would he think that?”

“Because what kind of father is going to believe that his own daughters would?” Brian let out a long, strained sigh. “I’ll handle Castle. You focus on repairing your reputation.”

“And how should I do that? You know that if I say one word to the press besides, “No comment,” that it will only add more fuel to the fire. Our best play is to keep quiet.”

“Agreed. Which is why I think you should lay low and let this blow over.”

A sick feeling started in Decker’s gut. “Is this your way of telling me you don’t want me to be a part of dad’s legacy?”

Brian didn’t have to say a word, his expression said it all. His brother was a one-strike-and-you’re-out kind of person. Second chances weren’t built into his DNA. Then again, giving up his own hockey dreams to run the family business while Decker went on to play in the NHL must have been hard.

The day his dad died he’d lost two of the most important people in his world. Brian hadn’t hesitated to step up and he’d never let Decker forget it. Which was why it was so important to salvage this deal. He went into business with his brother to fix their relationship, grow it from a seven-figure company to an eight, so he’d be damned if he let one misunderstanding ruin what was left of their brotherhood.

“No. This is my way of telling you that you need to man up and do whatever it takes to pull your weight,” Brian said as if Decker’s name hadn’t landed them the contract in the first place.

“It sounds like you have a strong opinion on how I should live my life, so go ahead and let me know what you’re thinking?”

“You can rethink that project your agent came to you with.”

Decker blinked. “You want me to fix my public persona by going on a television show?”

Last month his agent had approached him with an offer to co-host a fixer upper show and he’d quickly declined. The last thing he wanted to do was be on television. He’d had enough press to last a lifetime. He was tired of being the frontman and was more interested in keeping his head down and putting in the work to grow the family business.

“It’s the perfect place for you to disappear. The show films for six weeks. You’ll be on the property for the entirety so the press can’t get to you. And if you negotiate having a say in the direction of the narrative you can show America that you’re not that guy anymore.”

His brother’s words hit hard because he was no longer that guy. Hadn’t been since he met Cami. Sure, he’d had a few one-nighters after the breakup. What guy wouldn’t after having their heart shattered? But he’d been so broken from his career and engagement ending within weeks of each other that the thought of dating made him sick.

“I want when people look at you that they see a business owner not a player and this is a great opportunity to do just that,” Brian said. “Not to mention how great the exposure could be for our company.”

So, Brian was all for using Decker’s fame if it benefitted the bottom line, but when it got in the way of the all mighty dollar Decker’s fame was a liability? He understood the ramifications of keeping quiet, but it still sucked that his brother wanted to wash his hands of Decker until he brought in the right kind of press.

“How will you handle the builds we’ve already started if I’m MIA for six weeks?”

Brian lifted a nonchalant shoulder. “I’ve been handling things for over a decade on my own. I’ll manage.”

And just like that, Decker felt like that selfish eighteen-year-old all over again, who chose his own wants over the needs of his family.

“I’ll call Asher and get the details,” he promised referring to his agent.

“I already did. He wants to discuss what it would entail.” Brian stood to leave.

“Can I at least buy you a beer?”

“I gotta go. Lauren has dinner cooking and I promised I’d help Ella with a school project.”

Not that Decker would change the past ten years but there were times, like right then, when he wondered what it would be like to have a family waiting for him at home. Then again, he’d tried that once and lost out big time. He wasn’t eager to go there again.

“Tell the family I say hi.”

With a grunt, Brian disappeared into the crowd leaving Decker alone with nothing but his thoughts and regrets for company.

He picked up his phone and texted Asher.

Decker: Remember the project I told you to go fuck yourself on? Well, I might have been too hasty.

Asher: Is that your way of telling me I was right?

Decker: An hour ago I would have said no, but my position may have changed.

Asher: I figured. It’s why I called earlier.

Decker didn’t have to look at his phone to know that his agent had already called five times. But he’d been so excited to go out with his brother and shoot the shit that he hadn’t wanted the distraction.

Decker: In a bar. Couldn’t hear it ring.

Asher: Is that the story you’re going with?

Decker: For now. Where do you want to meet?

Asher: Stay there. I’ll come to you.

Decker: I should probably bail before someone recognizes me. Meet at me place?

He was waiting for a reply when someone slid onto the barstool next to him. He didn’t have to look up to know it was a someone of the female persuasion. A floral and feminine scent wrapped around him like a familiar blanket.

He loved women. The way they felt beneath his hand. The way they smelled. And the way they screamed his name when they were beneath him. To make matters worse, women loved him right back.

He glanced over and found a pair of denim-encased, mile-long legs attached to one hell of a rack that had his internal warning signal screaming, “Finish your beer and go home. Alone.” Only he made the mistake of meeting her eyes and well, fuck him, he couldn’t seem to look away.

They were the most vivid shade of violet he’d ever seen and so full of emotion that, even though he told himself to get up and walk out of there, his ass cemented itself to the bar stool.

“I am so sorry I’m late,” she said and her voice was low and throaty. “I got stuck at work. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I got sucked into work and time slipped away from me. Does that ever happen to you?”

“Sometimes,” he said, amused at the speed with which the words came spilling out of her mouth.

She looked relieved. “Then you understand.” She folded her hands nervously in her lap. “I have to be honest, I wasn’t even going to come but I didn’t want to leave you high and dry sitting at a bar alone. I’ve been there and it sucks.”

Decker had a hard time believing that anyone would stand this woman up. She wasn’t the normal Hollywood type that he went for. In fact, besides a touch of gloss on her lips, she didn’t have a spot of makeup on. Her hair was in a ponytail and her top was more casual than couture. Not exactly date attire, but she clearly thought he was someone else.

Before he could ask who she was there to meet, and clarify that is wasn’t him, she was talking again.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to meet you, I just don’t date that often. Especially when my aunt sets me up.”

“Does that happen a lot?” he found himself asking.

“It’s the worst. Being the single niece of a famous match maker means that she is determined to find me my soul mate. It doesn’t cross her mind that I’m not looking for a soul mate.” She grimaced and rested her hand on his leg. It was like she’d poked him with a live wire. “Not that there’s anything wrong with looking for a soul mate. Most people are looking, right?”

He leaned an elbow against the bar top. “But you’re not?”

She snorted. “Maybe once upon a time. But I’ve been there, done that, and still have the skid marks on my forehead to show for it. No thanks. I’m more focused on things that are in my control. Like my career.”

“And what is it you do?”

“I flip houses. What do you do?”

How ironic. He was surrounded by hockey fans and she hadn’t a clue as to who he was? Now he was more than intrigued. So instead of politely excusing himself, he said, “I’m in construction too. New builds, not flips.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Why do I not look like I can swing a hammer?”

Her gaze dropped to his arms and he found himself flexing. “I don’t know. You just don’t seem the type to get his hands dirty.”

He laughed. “Do you like a guy who can get dirty?”

She rolled her eyes. “Does that line usually work for you?”

Yes, it did. Decker wasn’t just an MVP, he had a PHD in banter. His flirt game was so strong all it took was a strategically placed comment and women were asking if they were headed to his place or hers.

“You tell me.”

This time when she snorted it was followed by a carefree laugh. “Most definitely not. I’m more of an emotional connection kind of person. Flirting is easy. It’s the real stuff that makes a date good.”

“Ten minutes ago you were telling me you were going to stand me up and now you’re telling me my flirting is cliché?”

“I could say no, but then I’d be lying, and I suck at lying. Too many details to keep track of.”

Well, wasn’t that refreshing. If it were true. Because based on his experience with women—and he’d had a lot—there was always a few little white lies deep down that had the potential to blow things sky high.

“So you’re an angel?”

“What does that mean?”

“You don’t date. You don’t lie. And you’d rather spend the night playing with your toolbox.”

“Better than spending it with a tool,” she said with such an innocent smile he had to laugh.

“Are you suggesting I’m a tool?”

“You were the one talking about my box.”

“No box talk. Got it.”

Before he could say more the bartender came over. “What can I get you two?”

The violet eyed beauty studied the bartender, then the exit and finally him. She was going to bolt. If he were a smart man, he’d let her. Being in public with a beautiful woman after his day was asking for trouble. He was supposed to be focusing on how to fix things, not charm a woman out of her panties. But this was the first time he’d felt like a normal guy without the weight of the world on his shoulders all night. He didn’t want it to end.

“I really do have to get going,” she said.

“At least let me buy you one drink. That way you can tell your aunt you didn’t stand me up.”

God, he was an ass. Instead of correcting her mistake he was playing along. Oh, but what a fun game it was turning out to be.

The bartender narrowed her eyes as if trying to place him and it took everything he had not to pull his ballcap down even further and disappear into his hoodie.

Angel seemed to weigh her options and he knew the moment she gave in, because she let out a sigh. “Fine. One drink. But then I really do have to go.”

“Unless I can convience you to turn that one drink into two.”

“You really need to work on your game.”

“Noted. Now, what shall it be?”

He expected here to say some kind of fruity drink in a martini glass like most women he came across in the city of angels, but instead she reached over and grabbed his beer, then took a swig.

She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand then smacked her lips. “That’s good. I’ll have what he’s having.”

“Make that two,” he said to the bartender, who was still studying him as she walked off.

“So Decker,” she said shocking the shit out of him. She clearly knew his name but not who he was. He glanced around the bar looking for his agent to pop out and say, “Gotcha!” But when he met her gaze there wasn’t an ounce of deception there. She had really come here to meet him, which made his wonder what the actual fuck was going on. “Why did you agree to this date? You don’t seem like the kind of guy who needs to be matched.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, you’re…” She waved a hand down his body.

“I’m what?”

She gave him a challenging look. “You know what you are.”

“Charming? Sexy? Your kind of guy?”

“I was thinking more confident airing on cocky and conventionally handsome,” she said and it didn’t sound like a compliment.

“Are you not into conventionally handsome men?”

She held her hands up to show off her chipped nails. “My go-to style is a ponytail, jeans and a tank top. I prefer moisturizer to makeup, and I’d rather spend my night demoing than on a date. I’m as far from conventional as one could get.”

“I’m a sucker for a good ponytail. You’re too pretty for makeup. And I’d demo with you any night of the week.”

She was so startled by his answer she actually blushed then looked away. It was the first time she’d broken eye contact since she’d sat down. It made him wonder what kind of assholes her aunt had set her up with.

“I feel like we’re bordering on talking about my box again.”

“Honey, I can talk about your box all night long, but I’d hate to come off as conventional tool.”

Her cheeks pinkened. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

He lifted a brow. “I thought you said that you didn’t lie.”

“I don’t,” she challenged. “When I said conventionally handsome, I just meant that most women in this bar would sell their soul to be sitting in my chair.”

“Let me guess, you’re not most women.”

“Maybe once upon a time, but like I said I’m more focused on my business at the moment. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for dating. That was if I was interested in dating. Which I am not.”

She might not want to dip her toes in the dating pool, but he was pretty certain that she found him attractive—conventionally handsome or not. There was only one way to find out.

Decker leaned in so that his lips skated along the curve of her ear as he whispered, “So you’ve said. Yet you’re still here.”

He felt her shiver at the contact and that was all the clarification he needed.

“Only because that is a damn fine IPA. How could I pass that up?”

“Then this has nothing to do with the company?”

Unabashed, she met his gaze head. She didn’t play it coy like other women. Oh no, she was too real for that. “Maybe a little. Plus, we’re both in the same industry. Do you know how rare that is in a city full of celebrities and entitled assholes?” He kept his mouth shut because he was both a celebrity and, as tonight’s video implied, an asshole. Not to mention that she had no idea that he hadn’t come here for a date.

“So, why new builds?” she asked. “Besides the money.”

“I like the idea of starting from scratch. A fresh slate. How about you? Why flips?”

“Flips sounds so transactional. I see myself as more of a protector of the forgotten. I like discovering the history and memories of a house and then passing that passion along to the next owners. How long have you been in construction?”

How to answer this one without giving away his hockey past. He didn’t know why but he wanted to keep his identity a secret for as long as he could. Plus, the moment she found out who he was she’d google him and he already knew what would come up first. So he’d play this game until his time ran out.

“It’s the family business. Me and my brother took it over.” There. That was vague enough to avoid further inquiry into his past professions, yet to the point without lying. “And you?”

“I started restoring antique furniture when I was a kid with my dad, and I fell in love with it, so I’d search swap meets and find treasures that needed some TLC. When I turned twenty, I blew my entire life savings on my first house. It sat on the market so long it nearly bankrupted me. Then I learned that people want some kind of emotional connection to their home that goes deeper than design and aesthetics, so I got smart about getting the history of the house out there and it practically sold itself. I reinvested into my second and then my third. And here I am flipping three houses a year.”

Color him impressed. “Do you do it all by yourself?”

“I hire out specialty work like plumbing and electricians, but for the most part I am a one woman show. How about you? New builds require a big crew, right?”

There were so many people on payroll that he felt like a joke in comparison. It took thirty men to do what this woman did by herself.

“We have a crew,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t get my hands dirty.”

She grabbed his hand and held it up for inspection. Again, there went that bolt of chemistry coursing up his arm and through his body.

“Dirty enough for you?” he whispered.

Her eyes flew to his and her breath caught. She dropped his hand like it burned her.

Join the club, angel.

“What makes you think I like dirty?” she whispered back so low he barely heard it over the excited chatter of the crowd. They were surrounded by a few hundred patrons, yet it felt as if it were just the two of them—alone in their own bubble.

Decker hadn’t felt like that in a long while. If ever.

“Besides the way you’re looking at me? Gut instinct. And my instincts are always right. What are your instincts telling you?”

She opened her mouth to speak, and he practically fell off the chair he was leaning in so close to make sure he heard every word when the bartender came back with their beers.

“I knew I recognized you,” the bartender said and he felt his stomach bottom out.

He felt his not-a-date date’s eyes on him, but he refused to look over when he said, “You must be mistaking me for someone else.”

“You’re Decker Jamison,” she said. “And you’re on television.”

He looked up and the screen on the opposite side of the bar, unable to believe his luck. Because there, playing in one-hundred-and-five inches of HD glory, right below his signed jersey and next to a poster of the Los Angeles Kings, was a guy who looked a hell of a lot like him and two socialites, twisted like a trio of pretzels. The women were in matching silver thongs with LA Kings written across the ass and his doppelganger was in nothing but an FCC censored tag and his team hat. One girl was yanking on his hockey stick like it was the final play of the Stanley Cup and the other was swinging a number thirty-eight jersey—his jersey—over her head like she was aiming for the net.

He looked at the charming and beautiful woman beside him but she was looking at the screen—mouth gaped open horror on her face.

“I thought you were in construction,” she said sharply.

“I am,” he said and once he started talking he couldn’t stop himself. Hell, he’d say anything to take them back to thirty seconds ago. “I used to be a pro hockey player.”

“I can see that. And so much more.” She was standing and fishing through her pocket. She pulled out a twenty and tossed them on the bar.

He grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. He didn’t want the night to end on a bad note. He’d had too much fun for that to happen. “It’s not what you think. I promise. Just give me a minute to explain.”

To his surprise, she didn’t move. Well, she did fold her arms across her chest in a fuck-off-and-die kind of way. But she was willing to hear him out. “You have thirty seconds.”

How to explain that video away without ratting out his friend?

“I’m not that kind of guy. That was taken a long time ago. In the early stages of a career when the fame and what came with it was all new and a stupid kid made a stupid decision. Haven’t you even made a decision you regretted?”

Her eyes softened a bit, but her stance was still giving clear fuck-off vibes. “I have.”

He felt his chest loosen. Maybe he could fix this and rewind so that she was still smiling at him like he was interesting and funny—and not some douche who supposedly screws twins on film. “I really liked our night and I’d love to get out of here and explain more.”

He looked around the bar and her gaze followed. He knew the minute she understood that the entire bar had gone silent and all eyes—and a few hundred cameras—were pointed at them.

Her hands nervously came together in front of her. “I don’t know. I’m not looking for anything right now and you’re clearly going through something. Maybe it’s just best if we call it a night.”

She turned to leave again and again he caught her elbow. “Wait, um…” he went to say her name and remembered he didn’t know it.

She yanked her arm back. “You don’t even know my name, do you?” she asked and he remained silent. “Oh my god. Did you even know that this is a date?”

“No, but when you clearly thought this was a date I didn’t know how to correct you.”

“Maybe by telling the truth.” She shook her head in disgust. “You are still that guy because if you had any respect for me at all you would have done the hard thing and been honest from the start.”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

She waved a hand at the crown who were rapt with every interaction they had. “Well, you screwed that one.” She looked at the screen. “Then again it looks like screwing comes easy to you. I would say forget my name but that won’t be a problem since you never knew it to begin with!”