Saints and Sinners: The Complete Series Page 34

  Gia bristled. She did anytime any woman got referred to as a girl, particularly by a man, but especially when it was a man like this one. “Miss Nobel is a fine athlete, as are all our players,” Gia said, glancing up at the numbers above the door, willing the car to hurry.

  “You’re right, of course…of course you are.”

  “Honey,” Lydia said, grabbing hold of her husband’s arm. “You always pester that poor woman. Look at the state of her. I’m sure Miss Jilani wants to be left alone after working so hard.”

  It was a subtle, but cunning dig and not one that Gia should have cared about. But Lydia was being petty, calling her out for being sweaty, pointing out that her hard work somehow made her unapproachable. That pissed Gia off. It brought out her inner bitch. She usually let her out when her players needed to be scared, but today Gia was feeling generous.

  “Well,” she said, moving her gaze to Lydia, then straight to her husband, “some of us have to keep in shape the old fashioned way,” she couldn’t help but say, plastering a saccharine, fake smile across her mouth. “It’s not all of us that have the constitution for Dr. Delaney’s knife.” She nodded to them, her smile widening when Lydia’s grin fell, and the door opened. “Afternoon,” she said, leaving the elevator.

  But Gia’s small victory against the pettiest woman she’d ever met faded quickly when she took five steps away from the elevator and stopped short, jerking back to move out of the way of two men yanking a large, overstuffed sofa from the door across the hall from her front door.

  “Excuse me,” she tried, attempting to go around them, snake behind the biggest man, but the guy seemed distracted by her voice, jerking his attention to her, then dropping the sofa on the floor just as his partner inside the apartment pushed it forward.

  “Hey! Hey! Hey!” the man in front of her said, waving toward the open door, dropping his extended hand before he leaned back against the wall and blew out a whining breath. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Is there a problem?” she asked, immediately feeling stupid when he pulled out his phone, glancing from the screen, to her, then at the sofa wedged between the opened door and wall. The hallway was large, but the angle of the large cushions and metal frame had pinned it between the threshold and hinges.

  “Kenny might weigh a buck twenty,” the man told her, scrolling through his phone. He glanced through the door, head shaking when he spotted something inside. “The homeowner is a big dude, but he’s…not available and my other crew is on the other fuc…um…other side of the city,” he continued, looking away from her when she crossed her arms. When Gia stood there, moving on the tops of her toes to see if she could scale the sofa and make it to her door, the man in front of her shook his head. “Sorry, darlin’. We were short staffed. I had my cousins in here helping me but then my aunt called and needed them, and those little assholes left all the damn boxes blocked right in the hallway.” Behind the man, Gia spotted two solid rows of plastic bins and a few metal containers; all looked heavy, all stacked against the wall, one in front of the other. Several smaller pieces of furniture were in front of the containers and on the other side of those, were even more boxes. There wasn’t a single available space apart from the right of Gia and the space between the elevator and the five feet she’d walked from to get to where she stood now.

  “Unbelievable…” she muttered, her body already starting to ache from tiredness.

  The mover waved his phone, head shaking when no one seemed to pick up on the other line. He looked at the screen again, his thumb moving through the contacts as he continued to speak to Gia. “I swear I’m trying.”

  “Does the super know you’re moving this guy out?” she asked, nodding toward the open door.

  “Out?” he said, looking away from his phone to stare down at her, his head shaking again. “No, ma’am. We’re moving his stuff in. It was furnished, but he wanted this thing gone.” He nodded at the large sofa.

  That seemed unusual to Gia. Apart from the small laughter she’d heard in February during Mardi Gras, and the two women who’d smiled at her as she drunkenly moved inside her apartment at four a.m. the night she and Cat had ventured to Summerland’s, she’d never heard or seen anyone in that apartment. Manny, her neighbor from directly across the hall, told her he’d only seen whoever lived there once, and that was two years before when he, Manny, had been stone drunk. All he could remember of that guy was that he had to be part giant. He’d learned later that the man only used the apartment for friends visiting the city and during carnival.

  So why would he be moving all his stuff in now?

  “You’re supposed to wait for the weekend to move…” Gia started, but the man, Nick by what she could make out from the embroidered name stitched over his front pocket, was already talking on the phone, his thick Cajun accent working so fast Gia couldn’t make out a single word he said. “There are rules…”

  Nick held up a finger, silencing her and Gia glared at him, deciding to take matters into her own hand. “Hey! Hold up, boo,” the man yelled as Gia leaned one hand on the sofa and one on the wall and vaulted over the wedged cushions, moving through the open door, nodding to the skinny mover Nick called Kenny.

  “More room in here,” she told the men. “And if this guy is big like you say, maybe I can get him to help you.”

  The apartment was a mirror to her own. Where her entry opened in on the left, this one came into the right. The living room was on the west side of the building and opened into the large dining and kitchen. At the back of the dining, stretching to the entire length of the apartment, were floor-to-ceiling glass doors, similar to Gia’s, but hers faced the bridge over the Mississippi River. This one was directly overlooking the river and Riverwalk itself with no obstructions.

  Like Gia’s apartment, every wall was white, every fixture black, and brass accents adorned the light chandeliers and cabinet pulls and accented the metal surfaces. But where Gia had tossed down warm, welcoming area rugs with vivid purples and pinks and had covered the cool walls with a gallery of black and white photos of her family and colorful paintings from her favorite artists, this man had kept his apartment ultra-modern and minimal. There was no artwork on the walls, nothing at all that gave any indication that this was nothing more than a model home apartment, staged to illustrate what living in this luxury building could offer. It felt cold and unwelcoming.

  Until Gia glanced out onto the balcony and caught the form leaning against the railing, his elbows on the metal, one hand holding a phone as the other adjusted the earbud connected to the cell. There was nothing remotely cold or unfeeling about the body in front of her. Gia stepped farther into the apartment, her gaze caught on his, so familiar, so similar to the kind of man she’d always seemed attracted to. There had always been a type for her and this was it—large, wide shoulders, big enough to shield her, cover her. Arms that could surround her, stretch to bend and take her, engulf her. Hands that were strong, twice the size of her own with pronounced veins indicating years of training and athletic ability, precise maneuvering. Biceps that were large, developed; that could hold him over her, that could lift her and carry her anywhere she needed to be. Thighs that were thick, a powerhouse of muscle; strength made tangible; that could sustain him, them both—a body that promised stamina and strength, pleasure and pure masculinity. It had always been men like this for her. She knew why. She knew who she was trying to recapture, but Gia could not help herself.

  Out on that balcony that beautiful body stretched, those massive arms moving over his head, that brown, smooth skin shining in the sunlight. And there was more of what she found erotic and sensual—those tattoos. Not simple cartoons of birds and flags, logos or sayings that represented contemporary life. But, ancient symbols of cultural pride. Glyphs of family and language, ways of life that had begun to die and were being reborn. There was honor in those marks, the distant memory of generations living and breathing in the shadows of ink covering those beautiful bodies.

  This
man was no different. He moved, arms outstretched, and Gia made out waves of black ink depicting the sun and sea creatures, fire, earth, wind and water. She’d seen similar markings and knew their meaning. Seeing them in front of her now told her there was something so familiar about this man, so beautiful…

  And then, Gia didn’t think about his beauty or how just watching him had affected her. She disregarded the way her nipples hardened and how the ache between her legs had begun like a low pulse and crested to a hard throb the more the man moved, once he turned, lowering his arms, catching her gaze and freezing as he looked right at her.

  A frown shifted over his mouth as he spoke into his cell. Then he nodded, taking no time at all to end the call, his attention trained on Gia, his features softening as he seemed to recognize her. Then, Kai Pukui pulled the buds from his ear and wrapped the cords around his cell, that frown of confusion, moving with a twitch along his top lip as he walked away from the railing and came into the apartment.

  By the time he stood in front of her, the frown was gone, his arms were crossed, and Kai’s lips were curved up, his straight teeth visible as he grinned down at her. “Miss Gia Jilani,” he started, moving his tongue along his bottom lip. “How’d I get so lucky?”

  There were a lot of thoughts flying around Gia’s head. They warred with the emotions that bombarded inside her. She wasn’t sure what to make of any of them and held up her hand, giving the lineman her palm, needing a second before she moved to the window, inhaling deep.

  Gia wasn’t blind. She wasn’t stupid. The reflection she caught of his grin, and the way the man watched her should have insulted her. After all, she was his boss and he still wasn’t acting like he cared much about that fact. But she was still too angry and irritated and confused to do any real arguing with him. So, instead, she decided to ask questions.

  “Why, Mr. Pukui,” she started, turning to face him, not surprised that he hadn’t stopped grinning like a fool at her, “are you in my building?”

  “Your building?” he asked, that grin morphing into a full-fledge, highly pleased smile. “It is my lucky day.”

  “Can you just…answer the question?” Gia mimicked him, crossing her arms, annoyed with herself that her thoughts had shifted to the reminder of Lydia telling her husband how rough Gia looked after her run. Why the hell should Gia care how she looked at the moment?

  Kai lowered his smile moving to the sofa still in his living room, this one smaller than the one presently wedge in his open doorway. He leaned against the back, still watching her intently. “You were the one that said there were no promises made to me or my head coach for this season because of his…issues with McAddams.” Kai shrugged, scratching his elbow before he continued. “I only signed a six-month lease last season. Since I’m not sure what’s going to happen this season and you’re leveling fines at me, I asked a…friend if I could crash at his place until things get settled.”

  “A…friend?” Gia asked, stepping closer, her curiosity leveling up. She didn’t realize any of her players lived in the building. That might have been a deal breaker for her buying her apartment if she’d known. “Who’s your friend…”

  “A friend who wants to keep himself…to himself.” Kai laughed when Gia rolled her eyes. “Gia…” He held up his hand when she glared at him. “I’m sorry…Miss Jilani…”

  “You really aren’t concerned, are you?” She walked closer and Kai dropped his hands, resting them at his sides. Gia tried not to watch how his chest flexed or how the skin on his shoulder appeared raised where the loop of swirling waves connected to his chest and back.

  “Concerned about what, nani?” His voice was low just then, bringing her attention back to his face.

  Gia could tell by the soft, hinting smile he wore over his lips that he knew her attention had been diverted by his naked chest. “Why…don’t you put on a shirt?”

  He stood, bringing his chest nearly to her face. She stepped back, looking away when Kai reached behind her, grabbing a white button up on the table to her right. “Am I distracting you?”

  Gia hated how easily he could affect her. She hated lying to herself, telling herself she’d felt nothing when he’d kissed her. But there had been a spark, it burned her skin. She felt it now moving between them, in the lick of his gaze over his skin as he watched her.

  She inhaled, reminding herself that this was inappropriate and unprofessional. He was her player. He was not going to play her. She opened her eyes, grinding her teeth when she caught the smirking grin on his face.

  “Mr. Pukui,” she said, moving her chin up. “I don’t know how often you need the reminder, but I am your general manager.” That bastard nodded, slipping on his shirt one shoulder at a time, his movements like a dance—his long, defined arm through one sleeve, his shoulder shifting, the muscles in his chest and traps bunching and twisting under that glorious dark skin as he fixed that thin fabric over himself. “I…think it’s inappropriate…” She moved her gaze to his fingers, watching each button as he fastened them, able to make out the round curves of his chest once he’d finished.

  “Eyes up here, Miss Jilani,” Kai said, a laugh coloring his tone.

  Gia grunted, taking another step back. “This is what I’m referring to.”

  Kai shook his head, still grinning. “Fuck me, ‘referring to.’ Go on then, to what are you referring, madam manager?”

  “You are skating on very thin ice.”

  He shrugged. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” Kai said, and his laughter seemed to rise then.

  Kai moved back to the sofa, stretching out his legs as she rounded on him. “Try ten thousand,” Gia said.

  All traces of Kai’s amusement deflated, and he didn’t recover for several seconds.

  “It all seems highly amusing to you, doesn’t it? Your unsigned contract? Your unreliable management?”

  That got his attention. Kai widened his eyes and flexed his jaw as she watched him. She decided to strike while she could.

  “But…Ricks said you were…full of shit about him and McAddams…”

  Gia stepped in front of him, her stomach coiling when the man dropped the flirtatious smirk and something serious, something that reminded her of real fear took over his face.

  “Coach Ricks has a job to do, and he does it well, but at the end of the day we’re all beholden to Mr. McAddams. If he’s unhappy, then we suffer.”

  Kai seemed to search Gia’s face, looking for something behind her expression that told him she was bluffing again. But this time, there was no bluff. “Right now, with nothing guaranteed, you don’t have a lot of leverage. No matter what Ricks says.”

  The bravado that had always puffed him up seemed to fracture just then, and Gia almost hated to see Kai deflate so quickly. His shoulders and arms went slack and he sat staring at his hands, watching them like he couldn’t bring himself to look at her directly.

  “The money is…” he started but seemed to realize he’d begun to admit something he’d wanted to keep to himself. Gia found his self-correction telling, but she wouldn’t pry. It wasn’t her business how the man spent his cash, but there was a kindle that began to spark, a nugget of worry that she thought best to hold onto.

  “McAddams won’t be swayed,” she said, coming to sit next to him. She kept several inches between them, hoping he realized it wasn’t only the owner he had to contend with. “Neither will I.”

  She could feel his stare as he watched her but refused to return it. She had a point and would make it without giving Kai an easy opening. “I think you forgot, months back, that I’m still your boss.”

  “How could I ever forget that?” he asked, turning to stare at her outright.

  Gia kept her attention on the river outside the large expanse of glass that seemed to stretch on forever. When Kai didn’t elaborate, she waved her hand, not sure what he’d say. “You seem to have come to the idea that it’s okay to speak to me like I never asked you to forget what happened.” Kai shook his head, and
Gia finally turned, wanting to see the look on his face. “Is that it? You think I didn’t mean it?”

  He glanced at her, shaking his head once, but she wasn’t convinced of his refusal. “I never said…”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “I…respect you…as a person.”

  “Then, Mr. Pukui, stop flirting with me,” she told him, standing, her back straightening when he touched her wrist.

  He only dropped it when she looked down at the curve of his fingers and how they fit around her wrist. “If it had been bad…or even only decent, then I would have never given it a second thought.”

  “That…doesn’t matter,” she told him, pulling her hand free from him. When he stood to face her, Gia didn’t step away from him. “Mr.…”

  “It shouldn’t,” he admitted, standing inches from her, not touching, not doing anything more than just watching her. “But somehow it does to me.”

  Gia turned her head, wondering why she’d never noticed how dark his eyes were before now. There were small flecks of brown and green in the iris when the sunlight moved through the window and shone against his eyes. “Nothing is ever going to happen between us. It was one night. It was a stupid mistake.”

  He nodded, moving his teeth across his bottom lip again. “Maybe,” he said, leaning his head until there was hardly any space between their mouths at all. “But, God help me, that’s a mistake I keep wanting to make over and over again.”

  “Why…are you always trying to distract me?” Gia asked him, unable to keep from touching his arm when he came closer.

  “Look at you. Sweaty. Sexy. This,” he said, tugging on the end of her sleeveless, gray workout shirt. He brushed his fingertips against the fabric and Gia held her breath when Kai’s thumb slipped underneath the edge near her rib. When he spoke, his tone was low, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them before. “This is enough to have me trying to make distracting you an Olympic event.”