That Wild Player
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Titles by Nadia Lee
About Nadia Lee
Copyright
That Wild Player
A Sweet Darlings, Inc. Novel
Nadia Lee
To Ravena.
Chapter One
Michelle
Tap, tap, tap-tap, hip swing. Then repeat…as I half dance, half trot up the walk toward the three-level end-unit townhouse I share with my best friends.
My heart is going cha-cha-cha, and my steps change to match the rhythm. The second I open the door, my arms are up in the air like I’m the champion of the universe. Sudden pops explode like miniature fireworks and colorful confetti flutters around, gradually settling on me and the floor.
“Congrats!” Sammi and Jan squeal in unison.
Giggling with exultation, I look at both of my friends. I just won the company-wide charity raffle for a week-long Caribbean cruise…for two. A balcony cabin plus a grand in on-board credit to splurge with. Woohoo! I’m still squealing inside. Smart of our CEO, Alexandra Darling, to make the announcement a quarter till five. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to get any work done.
“Thanks!” I say, then execute a perfect pirouette despite my sky-high heels and blue dress with a tight skirt. See? The day is as fabulous as it’s going to get.
I shove my loose hair out of my face. Sammi walks toward me with purposeful steps, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief and affection. A dedicated daily runner, she’s slim and super fit. Her pink shirt that has a glittery GODDESS across the chest adds to the cheeriness. I gave it to her a couple of months ago because it’s perfect for her.
She runs her hands along my back and sides, making me giggle, since I’m ticklish.
“What’s that for?” I say.
“For a bit of your fairy dust, you lucky bitch!” Sammi says with a grin.
“Oooh, me too!” Jan rushes over and runs her hands over my shoulders.
“You too?” I roll my eyes. “What would Matt think about your superstitious ways?” A pretty green-eyed redhead, she’s engaged to a no-nonsense lawyer.
“Matt loves getting lucky,” Jan says with a giggle and blush.
It’s cute how she can still blush. She isn’t even a virgin anymore. Matt took care of that for her. From what I heard, every virgin needs a Matt. Too bad we can’t clone him.
“How many raffle tickets did you buy? I bought ten,” Sammi says.
“Fifteen,” Jan says. “I was sure I’d win something. I had such a great dream about rainbows and unicorns last night.”
Sammi turns to me. “You?”
I press my lips together, then shrug. “Just one.”
Both the girls’ jaws drop. “Seriously?” Jan squeaks. She gets up and goes to the kitchen.
“Laura said I had to get one, but I only had ninety cents on me. I totally forgot about the raffle, so I had to borrow a dime from her to buy a ticket.” I toe my shoes off since my arches feel tight, then walk into the living room with my besties and plop down on the couch, my feet propped up on the table. Aaaah… So nice. “I probably got her lucky dime. Hey, does this mean I have to take her with me?”
“No…but you should probably pay her back that dime,” Jan calls out from the kitchen.
Sammi settles herself cross-legged on the floor. “Still…only one ticket?”
“I know, I know.”
“You only need one if you were meant to win,” Jan bellows.
Sammi looks down at her GODDESS T-shirt. “I’m unworthy of this shirt.”
I give her a look.
She sticks a tongue out. “Just kidding. I’m still a GODDESS. The GODDESS of code.” Then she puts her hands on her hips and adds a loud, exaggerated “muwahahahahaha.”
I laugh.
Jan returns with three glasses and a pitcher of margaritas.
“I thought we were out of tequila,” I say.
“Matt’s tequila es mi tequila.” Jan giggles. “I made it extra strong. Hehehe. And there’s another pitcher in the fridge.”
She serves, and we clink glasses in good cheer. My margarita is superb. And Jan wasn’t kidding about it being strong. It has a serious extra bite. Yummy.
“So you’re taking Nathan?” Jan says.
I nod. He’s my current boyfriend of three months. “Yup. On our six-month anniversary. August is supposed to be a great time to cruise.”
Nathan’s exactly what I want in a Mr. Right. We both like the same things—fashion, good food, and good wine. Our taste in music is compatible. He’s a lobbyist for an environmental group, and we both want an upper-middle-class future that comes with a loving marriage, children and a dog. Okay, so what if he’s a bit cheap when it comes to flowers and brings me whatever’s on sale? Every man has a flaw, and as far as those go, his is nothing. I’d rather have him be frugal than spend money left and right.
“Lucky bastard,” Sammi says. “Maybe I can ask Luke to book a cruise for us, too. Make it a foursome.”
“That’d be totally cool,” I say. Sammi recently got engaged to Luke, the guy she thought would be all wrong for her, but turned out to be her perfect match. They make a wonderful couple because not only do they totally click, they enjoy the same sort of torture—getting up early for runs. Personally, I could never date the guy. They look like Masochists ’R Us when they start from the house together, their dark heads pointed straight ahead.
“I want to go!” Jan says. “Maybe we can make it all six of us. I’ve always wanted to take a cruise.”
My phone beeps in my purse, and I fish for it. Sammi and Jan’s phones’ alerts go off as well, and they reach for theirs.
An email from Nathan. Yay! Gotta remember to tell him to ask for a week off three months from now…
Subject: Re: Barbecue next weekend
I sigh. That’s an email I sent Nathan, Jan, Sammi, Matt and Luke two months ago to talk about the barbecue logistics. Nathan can be lazy with email. He always digs up an old one to respond to rather than creating a new one with a proper subject.
I thought it’d be better to do this via email. Text seems a bit too impersonal. I don’t think it’s going to work out. People say, “It’s not you, it’s me”…but it really is you. You’re just too frigid and unresponsive. I know it’s you who has the problem, and I don’t have any reason to put up with it when the world is full of hot chicks. You just aren’t worth it for me.
I stare, totally uncomprehending for a second. What the hell does h
e mean, it’s me, not him? And I’m frigid? And not worth it because the world is full of “hot chicks”? What the…? What the hell?
Loud gasps, and I look up. “What?”
“Is Nathan fucking crazy?” Sammi screeches.
“What an idiot,” Jan mutters, shaking her head. “How is an email any better than a text?”
Wait, what? “How do you know?” I quickly look at the recipient list. Holy mother of God! That son of a bitch hit reply all and CC’d not only Sammi and Jan, but Matt and Luke as well.
Blood pounds in my head, and the room starts to spin. Either my skull’s going to explode or it’s going to fall off my neck. Either way is fine with me. That’s better than dealing with this humiliation…and the pitying looks.
Suddenly Sammi takes my face in her unnaturally hot hands and stares at me, her eyes intent. She’s saying something, but I can’t make it out over the roaring in my head. She studies me, then pulls my face toward her… Oh my God. Is she going to try to kiss me to prove I’m not frigid? She totally isn’t my type. Even if she were, she’s taken. She’s engaged! To Luke! Who I like as a friend.
I resist. Sammi refuses to be denied, exerting more force. Jan helps her, putting a hand on my back and pushing me forward. “What the hell, Jan. I thought you were my friend!” I yell as Sammi finally shoves my head between my knees and barks, “Breathe!”
What?
“You turned white, and you’re clammy. Now breathe,” Sammi orders.
I do as she says, since I can’t fight her and Jan at the same time. I don’t have the strength at the moment, and the room did spin around, and maybe I was about to faint. Ugh. I’d rather die than pass out over a damn email from Nathan like some wilting Victorian maiden.
Fucking Nathan!
Grinding my teeth, I sit up. “I’m going to kill him with my bare hands!”
“I’ll hold him while you beat him to death,” Sammi offers.
“And I’ll cheer you on from the sidelines. With pompoms. Every douchebag ex-boyfriend beating should get a cheering squad,” Jan says, then gets up and heads back to the kitchen.
She returns with another pitcher of margaritas. She hands me a full glass, and I start gulping it down, hoping the cold drink will restore some calm.
It doesn't work. I still want to kill the bastard in the most painful way possible. He’s entitled to break up with me, of course. But he isn’t entitled to humiliate me in front of the people I care about the most in the world.
“It isn’t my fault his dick is below average in performance,” I say, even though a teeny part of me says maybe his dick isn’t the problem.
Shut up, shut up, shut up.
“No shit!” Sammi’s eyes blaze with incredulity and outrage. If Nathan were in the room, she’d be throwing daggers in his direction. And hitting him, too. She’s good at darts. “It’s you? What the hell? He should be kissing your feet for deigning to date his sorry ass!”
“There are at least ten developers who would love to date you,” Jan says loyally.
Sammi cocks an eyebrow. “Only ten?”
“He probably got a lobotomy. That’s the only explanation,” Jan says. “In which case, you’re better off without him.”
“Totally. He’s lost his mind. Off his meds.” Sammi rolls her eyes. “‘Frigid.’ What you are is freakin’ hot. If I had any inclination toward the other team, I’d be tapping that ass.”
I almost spew my wine at Sammi’s lewd eyebrow waggling.
“I mean, if you’re frigid, what does that make us?” Sammi gestures at herself and Jan.
“Unresponsive hags, that’s what,” Jan says, because she’s the best kind of girlfriend, even though my face heats so fast that I almost sympathize with my mom’s complaints about hot flashes.
Sammi keeps going, coming up with more unflattering things to say about Nathan’s breakup remarks.
“Tundra cave,” Jan says, and Sammi snorts a laugh.
I manage a grim smile because I’m supposed to be amused, but my stomach feels like it’s full of broken glass.
Not to be outdone, Jan tosses out another, and Sammi volleys back. Things escalate pretty quickly. After all, we’ve had almost two pitchers of margaritas, made with extra tequila.
I should be grateful for my friends’ loyal defense of my sexuality, but instead, it makes me feel like a fraud. My shoulders rise a quarter inch every time they come up with something new.
But how I can tell them the truth?
“Sahara snatch,” Sammi says with a chortle.
Jan laughs. As the last one of us to lose her cherry, she would’ve blushed, but alcohol is a wondrous thing. “Ice clit.”
Except everything they say seems to be directed at me.
“The crystal cave,” Sammi says.
“Well with all that lack of sex, at least she’s tight.”
“Yeah, like stalac-tight!” They laugh uproariously.
Ack! I can’t stand it anymore. “I’ve never had an orgasm!”
My outburst shatters the hilarity, and I cover my mouth. Did I just say that out loud? At high volume?
Sammi and Jan swivel their heads like twins from The Exorcist.
“What did you say?” Jan asks, blinking.
Maybe they didn’t hear me. “Nothing.”
“You never had an orgasm? Like…ever?” Sammi stares, her jaw slack. “Are you an OrGin?”
“An origin? What?”
“An Orgasm Virgin. You know.”
I roll my eyes, since I’d rather focus on anything but what I just said. “There’s no such thing.”
“But…didn’t you have, like, at least five pretty serious boyfriends?” Jan doesn’t mean anything, but I can sense pity in her voice.
Hell, I’d pity me too, if I were her. “Yeah, but—”
“I’m so sorry, girl,” Sammi says. “That’s awful to not know what it’s like to finish on a high note.”
I press my palm against my forehead. “I know what high notes are like. I’ve hit them plenty of times. Plen-ty.”
“But…”
“What I mean is…I’ve never had one with a guy.”
“Oh.”
“Just, you know, my vibrator.”
“Wow,” Jan says.
“That’s…something,” Sammi says. “So if Nathan can’t give you what you need, who cares? I’m legit going to email that motherfucker and tell him the reason you’re frigid is because he’s a shitty lover, worse than a vibrator.” She stops and gets a calculating look. “Have you had an O with an anal toy?”
“Uh…”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Even better. I’m gonna say, At least an anal toy can give her satisfaction, unlike your sorry-ass micro-dick.” She laughs. “I’ll be all like, You’re worse than a butt plug!”
Jan almost spits her drink. And so do I. It’s just like Sammi to get excited about a good offense. Although she’s an app developer, she’s more like a pit bull than a geek. Any attack on someone she cares about is an attack on her.
“It’s insulting…but no great loss,” Jan says. “I mean, can you have a happily-ever-after with a guy who can’t give you an orgasm?”
“Right.” I’m afraid to add anything more in case I end up humiliating myself further.
“What you need to do is date all over the place until you find a promising candidate,” Sammi says. “Get on a few dating apps and start making connections. You never know when or where you’re going to find Mr. Michelle Malone. A guy who not only knows how to stick it in, but how to”—she lowers her voice into a sexy contralto—“move it for your pleasure.”
I drain my glass. “You know what? You’re right. I deserve more.”
“Correct. You need someone who’s going to pop your OrGin cherry.”
“I’ve had orgasms!”
“Fine. ManOrGin.”
Ugh. I can’t debate Sammi with margaritas swimming in my veins. I drop my forehead on my knees. Still, she has a point. Maybe—just maybe—I need
someone like Nathan…except that he can also give me orgasms.
“All right, girls, time for my beauty sleep.” I wobble as I get up.
Jan and Sammi give me a group hug. “We’re going to make that asshole sorry.”
“I know,” I say. Blowing them a kiss, I go up to my room, toss my purse on my bed and wipe the makeup off my face. I change into a V-back pink sleep shirt that says BOMBSHELL and collapse onto the mattress. Seriously, I want a do-over for today. Preferably with me with my One True Love and everything I need for a perfect, happy life. I’d even give up the winning raffle ticket.
I reach under the bed and pull out two thick scrapbooks. The covers read Michelle’s Dream Wedding I and Michelle’s Dream Wedding II. I flip over and look at the glossy photos of pristine beach ceremonies. Both books are full of ideas for weddings I’ve been clipping from bridal and travel magazines since I was seven. I’ve always known what I wanted from my life—what my parents have. A loving marriage. A kid or two. A kickass career. Nice, upper-middle-class suburban bliss.
Mom always hinted—very subtly—that I would need to do better to get those things. Although she never said anything overt, I know she’s disappointed I didn’t do well enough on the LSAT for an Ivy League law school. She also worries I’m sleeping my life away because high performers don’t sleep eight hours a day, and I could always lose more weight and dress better. She also believes I should make more money, which is why I moonlight as a PI’s honeypot.
I pull a couple of in-flight rags I filched on my last trip off the night table and look at them. They have some cool shots of the most gorgeous cathedrals. I’m pretty sure they’d say no to me—I’m not Catholic—but they looked too pretty to not go into the scrapbooks.
I cut out a few pictures and glue them onto a blank page on Michelle’s Dream Wedding II.
Then I sit, cross-legged, and place both albums on my knees. Putting my hands on them, palms up, I start to meditate. “I will measure up. I will have a perfect life. I’m capable of getting whatever I want.” It’s my mantra, and I murmur it over and over again.
I keep it up for a while, but after a few minutes I look up at the ceiling…and begin to cry.
Chapter Two