Oh sweet Jesus, she wished that people would stop staring at her. The hussy sporting the dress that looked like it came from the Jenna Jameson private wardrobe collection was still fuming, her talon-like acrylic nails tapping a quick staccato on the sequined waistline of her dress. If she could, Avery would have melted right into the marble floor tiles and disappeared.
“I’ve got other pants at home. And you know, there’s this thing called a washing machine. It’s revolutionary. You just throw dirty clothes inside, turn it on, and in an hour? Clean clothes!”
Avery paused, her stomach somersaulting through her rib cage. She resisted the urge to smile at his attempt at levity while she swallowed down a groan. The sound of his voice, as dark and rich as grade-A Belgian chocolate, did something wonderful and terrifying to her insides all at the same time. This was torture. Pure, unmitigated, hellish abuse. “Um…” Say something, Avery. Anything would be good. Her mind drew a blank, her vision filled with Jason Blackwell in all of his glory. Christ Almighty he was good looking. “Seriously, I’ve got this. This is your party. Go enjoy yourself.”
She wanted to look away. She really did. But he was like the sun, holding her in orbit with his magnificence. And likewise, everyone else within a twenty-foot radius. Avery’s gaze shifted and her cheeks flushed with renewed heat. It was easy to forget there wasn’t a crowd watching her every move when she stared into his gorgeous whiskey-brown eyes.
But the annoyed and somewhat breathy tone of Porn Star Barbie’s words was enough to break the spell. “Oh, god, I’m absolutely dripping wet.”
Avery hid a smirk. Probably not the first time she’d ever said that in front of an audience. Her gaze met Jason’s and she could have sworn they were having a moment. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips twitched as though suppressing a smile. It shouldn’t be funny. Really, Avery was mortified. So why did she suddenly feel like laughing?
“Can someone please get this lovely lady a towel or something?” Jason seemed oblivious to the expression of smug pleasure that blossomed on the Barbie’s face. “And as for the rest of you yahoos, go find something worth staring at. I thought this was a party!”
Nervous laughter followed and the crowd quickly dispersed. Avery had a feeling that Jason Blackwell was used to people doing as he said. Especially when it came to women. As she continued to sweep the shards of glass into a manageable pile, Avery caught sight of someone coming from the kitchen with a large, fluffy towel. Thank god. She was afraid she was going to have to mop up the champagne with her own shirt.
“Here you go, sweetie.”
The towel that Avery thought had been brought for her was draped over the Barbie doll’s shoulders by one of the waitstaff. Lovely. Could this night get any worse? Wait. She probably didn’t want an answer to that.
“Jase, could you show me to the bathroom?” Barbie cooed. “I want to rinse some of the sticky off me.”
Avery rolled her eyes. Seriously? One more crack like that and she was going to lose her cool. She refused to meet Blackwell’s gaze this time. They weren’t sharing a “moment” or anything else. She was the hired help and he was the football star. Fraternization wasn’t only far-fetched, it was flat-out impossible.
Jase. It was obvious that Barbie was on a nickname basis with him. Avery tried not to think of how cute it was or how the name suited him so much better than Jason. And likewise, she kept her eyes drilled to the mess in front of her as he pushed up from the floor to escort little miss wet ‘n’ sticky to the bathroom. Gag. Avery was willing to bet that she looked just like a Barbie without her clothes, too. Hard plastic parts and not an inch of her the body that god and her mama gave her. Just the way guys like Jason Blackwell liked their women, no doubt.
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not making any progress.”
Avery’s heart stuttered in her chest as she looked up the length of Jason’s considerable frame. Dang. They really did grow ’em bigger in Texas. “Shouldn’t you be in the bathroom helping my unfortunate victim to disrobe?”
He squatted down beside her and was still a good foot and a half taller. He had to be pushing six and a half feet if he was an inch, and carrying at least two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle around on his large frame. Close your mouth and stop staring, you idiot! Jason Blackwell was a tower of masculine perfection.
“There were more than a few able bodies ready and willing to help your victim out of her dress,” Jason remarked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I left them to it so I could bring you this.”
He pulled a stack of white kitchen towels from behind his back and Avery almost squealed with delight. The rest of the waitstaff had treated her as though she were all but invisible, leaving her to flounder in a pool of champagne and a pile of broken glass as if her clumsiness was a communicable disease. She’d been just about to go on a quest for a mop and bucket before Jason showed up with the towels. “Would it be cheesy to say that you are officially my hero?”
“Hell no,” Jason replied. “In fact, I demand official hero status from here on out. But I do think you owe me a reward for my gallantry.”
“A reward, huh?” Avery wasn’t sure what he was angling for, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to pull up her skirt as a thank you. “Don’t heroes usually perform good deeds out of the kindness of their hearts?”
He flashed her a wicked grin and Avery was pretty sure that if she wasn’t already on her knees, that smile would have gotten the job done. “What’s your name?”
“Avery,” she remarked.
“Avery? Really?”
Aaaand enter the jokes, teasing, and comments that she had a boy’s name. She’d heard them all. “I take it your parents hadn’t planned on you being anything but an Avery, am I right?”
Stunned silence followed. Wow. Not even a single wisecrack. “Um, yeah. That’s pretty much it. My dad was planning on naming me after my great-grandpa. When I wasn’t a boy like they’d thought, he slapped my name on the birth certificate before my mom had a say.”
“Avery. I like it. I’m Jase Blackwell, by the way. Also known as the hero of the night.” He motioned to the stack of towels. “How about you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night? I’ll even help you mop up the champagne.”
“Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea. I mean, you’re—and I’m—” How could she possibly explain to him why a date was the worst idea ever? She took the towels out of his hands and averted her gaze. “It probably wouldn’t work.”
“You’re gonna shoot me down, just like that? You wouldn’t believe what I had to do for those towels.”
His nonplussed expression only solidified why it wasn’t a good idea for Avery to go out with him. Guys like Jase Blackwell got what they wanted when they wanted it. And the girls they dated were equally self-confident and just as gorgeous. Avery wasn’t exactly arm candy material. She wouldn’t last a second on a date with Jase before he realized what a monumental mistake it was. Ultimately, she was doing them both a favor by turning him down.
“You don’t have to do me any favors, really. This isn’t the first time and it sure as hell won’t be the last time I make a fool of myself in public. You don’t have to feel obligated to help me. I can wrap this up all by myself. Thanks for the towels, Jase. You’d better get back to the party.”
Chapter Two
“Obligated? What the fuck does that even mean?”
The burn of Avery’s cool rebuff was still simmering just under Jase’s skin even after having a week to cool down. He couldn’t get her out of his head, his memory overwhelmed with images of her dark hair cut into an edgy bob, and the most gorgeous green eyes he’d ever seen. There was a pretty good chance he could have bench-pressed her petite frame with one arm she was so tiny, and she had the cutest button nose he’d ever laid eyes on. In a word, she was stunning. And the fact that he couldn’t have her, made him want her that much more.
“How in the hell should I know what it means?” Carson sat on his couch, watching game footage. There wasn’t a day of the week the guy wasn’t eating, breathing, or sleeping football. “I know I said she was the one, but maybe you should have cut your losses and moved on. The room was full of supermodel-gorgeous women.”
Supermodel-gorgeous? Hardly. More like rode hard and put away wet. The tension and bad-luck streak he’d hoped to end with a wild romp with Avery had crashed and burned. And rather than find some other woman to get the job done, convincing Avery to go out with him had become Jase’s single-minded obsession. “Can you just give me the name of the catering company?”
“I can, but I gotta say, this isn’t the best time to start anything. You were supposed to hit it and quit it, dude. Not chase after her like a lovesick puppy. The playoffs are around the corner and I want your brain getting the necessary blood flow. Know what I mean?”
“Dude. I don’t even want you thinking about where my blood is flowing. Know what I mean? Just give me the damned number and get back to your home movies.”