"We don't have to stay long," she said, her voice clipped and strained. "Drinks and dinner, then we'll leave."
He adopted a relaxed stance, hoping it would rub off on her. "No worries. I'm happy to do whatever you need me to do."
She looked angry. "I don't need you to do anything. You shouldn't even be here." Forcefully clearing the mutinous expression from her face, she reached for his hand. "Thank you for doing this. You should be taking the night off, not be forced to schmooze with my parents' friends."
Ty wanted to pull her close to let her know that he'd play defense for her tonight, but his fingers had barely brushed over hers when she abruptly pulled hers away.
"Daddy!" she said in an abnormally high-pitched voice.
Ty looked up the winding, paved staircase to see if her father had changed much in ten years.
Nope. He was still lean, still tanned, still immaculately dressed. A Rolex watch gleamed on his wrist.
Ty's expression betrayed none of his dislike.
"You're late," was all Julie's father said in greeting.
She'd barely made an excuse about traffic when her father cut her off.
"Wonderful to see you again," he said to Ty.
Ty hadn't forgotten the day they'd met. He'd been a junior in high school and Julie's father had, like everyone else, wanted a piece of the superstar action. Ty was destined for the pros and lots of money. But first, he'd have to choose his launchpad.
Blake Spencer was a Notre Dame man, and he'd been sent to bring Ty on board using any means possible. Most sixteen-year-olds would have been awed by dinner at the Ritz--where the waiters hadn't asked for his ID--by the $1,000 bottle of champagne, the caviar, the filet mignon, and the hookers waiting in the limo after dinner.
But Ty was more comfortable getting burgers and talking strategy than he was with white tablecloths and waiters who bowed and scraped. He'd rather be out shooting pool with his friends than listening to some asshole go on and on about what great investments he'd made and how he ran his company with an iron fist. The couple of things Julie's dad said about football sounded weird, like he'd read them from a how-to book, or memorized a TV commentator's remarks.
So yeah, he remembered her dad. Only now did Ty stop to wonder why he'd never given Julie credit for surviving such a jerk of a father.
An invisible punch smashed into his solar plexus as the answer snaked through him: Because you thought you were surviving the worst. No one else had it as had as you, did they?
"We were all thrilled when we found out our Julie was working with you."
Ty nearly cracked a smile. Julie sure as hell hadn't been pleased. Which had been a large part of her charm.
Her father continued braying into the silence. "A client like you is really going to raise her profile. She should be very thankful that the Outlaws thought of her."
Julie remained silent. Ty had gotten used to her quick comebacks, her smart mouth. He didn't like seeing her behave like this, reduced to nothing but a rich man's pretty daughter.
Exactly what he'd assumed she was back in high school.
Ty smiled thinly. "I insisted on working with her. I told my agent I wouldn't consider anyone else."
Gratitude practically seeped from Julie's pores. Ty wanted to smash her father's face in.
Her father blinked, then tried to usher Ty inside, leaving Julie standing alone by the limo. Ty tried to catch her eye but she was staring down at her shoes.
This was bullshit.
Ty pulled out of her father's grasp and returned to Julie. He tipped his finger under her chin, blocking her father's prying gaze with his broad back.
"We're a team," he said. "You've backed me up all week. Tonight you depend on me. Okay?"
Her eyes were bright and he held them for several beats until they refocused.
She spoke so softly, he could barely hear her. "Okay."
Ty kept his arm firmly tucked around Julie's waist as they walked through her front door. A young, stacked blonde smiled up at them.
"Oh goodie," she said, "you're here! I'm Susie and it's so exciting to meet you."
Ty knew thousands of women like this one and he'd slept with a fair number of them. Funny how one week with Julie had changed things--because he sure wasn't feeling it for this girl.
Sure, she was cute and had big tits. But he had a thing for interesting, smart women with great breasts. Julie fit the bill perfectly.
Julie stiffened against his arm. "I take it you're my father's new secretary."
The girl nodded happily. "Since April."
Ah, he got it. Blake was doing his secretary. And if he wasn't mistaken, he did girls like her on a regular basis.
Ty'd heard enough shrinks talk to the team to know that when the people you trusted most cheated and lied, you learned not to trust anymore. Which went a long way to explaining Julie's initial aloofness to him. Sure, he'd screwed up in high school with her, but the way she'd held herself back from him went further than that.
Looking at her father and his newest "assistant" definitely clarified things.
Susie turned back to Julie. "Janie, you must feel so lucky to get to work with the legendary Ty Calhoun."
Julie's flinch was imperceptible to everyone except him, and he wished to hell they were anywhere but here. If only she'd told him that her father sucked balls, they could have blown off the party and had a good time somewhere, just the two of them.
"Julie's amazing," he said, emphasizing her name to Blake's little bimbo. "And I'm the lucky one."
He looked up and saw a faded, older version of Julie teetering down the wide, curving staircase. Everyone followed Ty's gaze, watching the woman grasp the rail tightly with each step. Her hair fell around her face like Julie's, and the shape of her mouth was similar as well.
She made it to the bottom of the stairs without once looking up. A waiter appeared with a tray of champagne and she reached for one, downing it quickly before exchanging it for a full glass and weaving her way into the living room.
All at once it hit him: Julie's mom was an alcoholic.
Julie could feel herself shriveling up into a tight wad of shame. All she'd wanted was for her parents to act normal tonight in front of Ty.
Which, she supposed, was exactly what they were doing.
Her father had another new girlfriend posing as his assistant, and her mother was masking her shame with booze.
Julie hadn't wanted Ty to see this side of her. She felt raw, exposed, and sick to her stomach.
"Excuse me," she said, fleeing for the kitchen, which would be full of caterers who wouldn't pay any attention to her. Ty was going to have to float tonight on his own. She couldn't handle it.
She could only think of one place to find refuge, the place she'd always gone and hid as a child. Her bedroom. She took the back stairs two at a time and the years fell away.
She was three all over again, running away from her parents' fighting, scared of their loud voices, their ugly faces.
She was six, wondering why her mother was talking funny, messing up her words at the dinner table.
She was ten, hating her father for making her mother so sad by coming home late and missing dinner again, and hating her mother for being so weak and just taking it.
She was fourteen, running up the stairs to dream about the new boy at school, a football player who didn't even notice she was alive.
She was eighteen, coming home the morning after the most wonderful--and horrible--night of her life, where she lost her virginity to the school's superstar football player, the same boy who hadn't looked or spoken to her for four years.
And now she was nearly thirty, still running up these stairs, still hiding from everything she didn't want to face, still looking for someone to love who would love her back.
She turned right at the top of the stairs and for a split second she wondered what she was going to find behind her closed childhood bedroom door.
Holding her breath, she turned the
gold knob. Everything was just as she'd left it. The Ralph Lauren floral bedspread, the Phantom of the Opera and Les Mis posters.
All the things she'd left behind were still here, gathering dust, waiting for her to return to them.
Her mother hadn't touched the room, hadn't put anything away. That would have been too big a project for Carol.
Suddenly, Julie wondered if they were more alike than she'd previously thought. After all, she hadn't been any more willing than her mother to deal with the memories and emotions that lingered in this room.
Maybe coming upstairs hadn't been a good idea, after all. Maybe she could sneak back downstairs and wait out the party in the limo. Her parents wouldn't notice her absence, not with her father focused on how impressed his guests would be by Ty and her mother drinking herself into oblivion.
A knock sounded on the door, then Ty's gorgeous frame filled the doorway.
"Mind if I join you?"
A mixture of relief and humiliation flooded through her. She was glad that she didn't have to pretend to be the happy daughter of the mansion with Ty; he'd see through that in a heartbeat. But now he knew her secrets.
He knew where she came from.
He knew what she'd been hiding.
"Sure," she said in a shaky voice. "Come in."
He stepped inside and the room shrank before her eyes. His broad shoulders and tall frame filled her bedroom, changed it in an instant from an innocent childhood hideout into something mysterious.
Dangerous.
"So this is where you grew up?" He looked at the bed. "Where you slept."
She swallowed, nodded.
"I've got to know--what did you wear to bed?"
Her cheeks flamed. "Not much," she admitted and he moved closer.
"Nice. Very nice." And then, "Good thing I didn't know that in high school. I already had a boner every time I saw you walk down the hall. Thinking about you naked in this bed would have pushed me over the edge."
Suddenly Julie wasn't thinking about her parents anymore, about how embarrassed she was at their behavior.
Instead all she could focus on was how good she felt whenever Ty was around. How much she wanted him.
"I have an idea," he said, sitting down on the edge of her single bed. A bed that had never seen a boy, and only the barest bit of masturbation.
"I'm all ears," she said, even though the more honest response was that she was all hormones, all the time, whenever he was around.
"Come here," he said, patting his lap.
She perched on the edge of his knee and he pulled her into him. His heat and his hard muscles branded her, took her breath away.
"Everyone is busy drinking and talking downstairs. I figure we've got a good hour to kill before dinner. Seeing your bed gave me some good ideas."
"I don't know if we should," she whispered.
"I do," he said with a wink, and in that moment, Julie couldn't stop herself from falling a little bit in love with Ty all over again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ty's hands were warm around her bottom. She lowered her mouth to kiss him and he was so tender, so careful with her. Finding out that her father was a cheat and her mother was a drunk could have been the perfect grenade to wave in front of her face. He could have used her shame to force her to back off, to cut him some breathing room during the next week.
Instead, he chose this tenuous moment to be kind to her. To "back her up."
She nipped at his lips, wondering why she'd ever thought that jocks were nothing but empty, muscle-bound shells. Because while Ty certainly had looks and charm to spare, he also had more than his share of warmth and understanding.
Pulling her lips away from his mesmerizing kiss, she said, "I'm ready to hear your ideas now."
She felt his erection stiffen even further against the back of her thigh.
He picked up one of her hands, traced the tops of each of her fingers with his thumb, then turned over her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm.
"I don't think I've thanked you yet for what you did to me last night under the bleachers."
Arousal sizzled deep in the base of her stomach. "You don't need to thank me," she said, her words breathless and excited. Something wonderful was on its way.
"I insist on returning the favor." The lack of blood to her brain made her slow to pick up his implication.
"Oh," she finally said. "You want to .. ."
"Tie you up."
The sensual image hit her square in the chest and she gasped.
"Blindfold you."
She licked her lips, wondering how it was possible for her heart to beat so fast.
"Taste you."
She couldn't take her eyes from his, couldn't think of anything but giving herself to Ty, wholly and completely.
Could it be that she was ready to trust him? At least with her body? She wanted to give her sexual self to him fully and completely.
"We don't have much time," she said, desperate now for the release he promised, wishing everyone downstairs at the party would just go home and leave them alone.
Where she'd once looked at two weeks as an eternity, she now saw that it would be over in a flash.
She would miss this incredible man very, very much.
He slid her off his lap and laid her down in the middle of her old bed. He got up and locked the door, then shrugged off his blazer and draped it on the back of a chair.
He was a man on a mission, his sole purpose to make her feel good.
As a teenager, she'd fantasized about what it would be like if Ty kissed her, if he held her close. But she'd never come close to feeling this aroused, this revved up.
Then again, she'd never imagined Ty tying her up so that he could take her any way he pleased.
He walked into her closet and emerged grinning. Swinging a woven brown leather belt, he said, "This will do nicely for your wrists."
He dropped the belt beside her hip and she sucked in a breath as he undid the knot of his tie. "And this," he said, "is the perfect blindfold."
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Was she crazy? Was she really going to let him do this to her? In her parents' house?
Drunken laughter drifted up through the floor. Didn't her parents realize that people were simply using them for free champagne and caviar, not because they actually liked them?
Perhaps being here with Ty was the perfect way to create a new, final memory in this house. After tonight, her last impression would be of a gorgeous man and the sinful things he'd done to her.
Ty sat down on the bed and his weight tilted the mattress, forcing her closer. He was warm and solid and she didn't hesitate for a second when he slid his silk tie over her eyes and reached beneath her hair to tie it.
Instantly, her remaining senses came to life. She loved his fresh, woodsy scent. The band playing "The Way We Were" downstairs sounded like the backdrop to their own personal love story. His kiss was minty on her tongue.
She suddenly saw things clearly.
All the sex, the fun, the laughter--it had been more than fooling around. She'd asked Ty to keep their relationship a secret not just because she wanted to keep her professional reputation intact, but because she was afraid that he'd turn on her, like he had before. But he wasn't a teenaged boy anymore. He was a wonderful man.
And maybe, just maybe, she thought as she reached out and laid her hand over his heart and felt its strong, steady beat, he was falling in love with her. fust like she was falling in love with him.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and she knew what he was going to ask.
"Only if you're sure," he said, and she smiled.
"I'm sure," she said and a moment later he had her arms secured to the bed frame, not so tight that it hurt, but just tight enough that she couldn't escape.
Heat and wetness pooled between her legs and her nipples grew hard.
"Now let's see what's waiting for me under here," Ty said, his voice and fingers coaxing a soft moan
out of her as he found the zipper on the bodice of her strapless dress and pulled it open.
"You're wearing my favorite thing of all," he murmured as he slid the lace over her breasts, exposing her bare flesh all the way to her rib cage. "Nothing."
Instinctively, she arched her back, hoping he would touch her soon, kiss her, run his tongue over her nipples. He cupped her breasts with both hands and pushed them together, so that when he began to lick her, he could pay attention to both nipples at once.
She'd thought that giving her body to Ty in this way was going to be a gift for him, but it was turning out to be a gift for herself too. She'd dug out her sexiest, skimpiest panties from the back of her lingerie drawer, and tonight she was wearing just a scrap of white silk and lace beneath her white dress.
He pulled her dress over her stomach and blew out a long breath. "Every time I take your clothes off, I think I'm going to be prepared, and every time I'm wrong."
He covered her mound, silk and all, with his mouth, and his hot tongue lapped long strokes against her lips, pushed at her sex, returning again and again to her clitoris. She pulled hard against her bindings, but she couldn't break free, couldn't get close enough to his perfect mouth. Then, thank God, he pushed aside the expensive silk and slipped one thick finger inside her. His tongue met her bare flesh and he flicked it against her clit again and again, first light and then hard, then softly again.
She was desperate for release, desperate to come against his mouth. All it took was the slightest touch of his thumb and forefinger on her nipples for her orgasm to take over, from head to toe.
Before she could fall back down to earth he put his hands on her back, said, "Trust me," and shifted her wrists over each other, turning her around so that she was on her knees and shins, her breasts pressed into her bed frame.
Was this really her in bed with Ty? Blindfolded, tied to a bed, up on her knees, waiting for him to take her? Desperate for it?