Melissa felt dazed. Was this supposed to be a date? Or was this purely business?
Or, worst of all, was it round two of his apology for impulsively having sex with her?
It took every mind game Dominic knew to shake off the vision of Melissa in that tight purple sweater. Like one of Pavlov's dogs, he'd been salivating at the thought of tonguing her nipples again, of sucking her sweet flesh into his mouth. Jesus. He needed to get a grip.
He'd cornered her to make amends, not to fuck her senseless in the McKnight Agency boardroom. He still couldn't believe how calm she'd been this morning. She hadn't even wanted him to apologize for his out-of-line behavior. But his gut had told him he'd screwed up, and he had to fix it. Even if she didn't want him to.
Then he'd lost control again and kissed her. Shit, he hadn't been able to think straight, hadn't been able to concentrate on anything but her luscious curves and her sweet mouth. But the too-short kiss hadn't gotten her out of his system. Instead, he wanted her more than ever, wanted to continue where that kiss had left off.
For twenty years, he'd honed his control on and off the football field. Now was no time to lose it. It was time to put his mistakes behind him and move forward, just like he'd always done.
Bypassing Angie with a kiss on her cheek, he knocked once before walking into Tom's office. As they shook hands and said hello, Dominic studied the successful businessman. He would go ballistic if he found out his daughter was sleeping with a man he trusted. Any man would.
Ever since he'd fucked up big time in high school, he'd made it a point to stay out of the doghouse. No illegitimate children. No bar brawls. No trash talk. Until last night, with Melissa, when he hadn't been able to stop touching her, to keep his dick out of her slick heat.
Not wasting any time on pleasantries, he said, "I hear you gave JP to Melissa."
A flash of surprise crossed Tom's face. "Word travels fast in this business."
Dominic sat across from Tom on the leather couch. He remembered when Tom had been named agent of the year at the Sports Business Awards dinner. That was the year Dominic's endorsement offers had shot through the roof. And Tom had negotiated the hell out of them, making Dominic a very, very rich man.
"JP's gonna be a tough one."
Tom shrugged. "If she drowns in the deep end, it'll be her own damn fault for swimming out too far."
Dominic didn't like Tom's attitude, and his resolve to work with Melissa strengthened. "Move me. Melissa can have both of us."
Tom frowned. "Are you shitting me? Why the hell would you want her to represent you?"
"She's got potential. You're her boss; I'm sure you see it," Dominic added, even though he knew damn well that Tom saw nothing of the sort. "Someone's got to give her a chance. I've been in this business a long time, and I've watched her grow into a hell of a businesswoman. I'm happy to help out."
"Did she beg you to do this? Did she cry?" "Of course not." Dominic stood up. "Hand her my files."
He left, anger thrumming through his veins. He needed a killer workout to keep him from knocking his ex-agent's teeth out.
Tonight, over dinner, they'd talk business. And then he'd take her home and leave her there. With her doors locked and dead bolted, she'd be safe from him.
Like she should have been all along.
"What the fuck is going on between you and Dominic?"
Melissa spun around at the sound of her father's voice. He never swore. Never.
"Follow me," he demanded.
She shot out of her chair and followed him into the same conference room she and Dominic had occupied not five minutes earlier. Her father waited for her to step inside before closing the door. Loudly.
"Dominic just waltzed into my office and told me to transfer his files to you." He pinned her with a hard gaze. "Did you know about this?"
Melissa didn't know what to do. Should she lie? No, she was a terrible liar. It would only make things worse. "Yes," she said. "He wants to work with me. I told him no."
Her father's gaze was unyielding. "You turned down an offer to work with one of the greatest football players of all time?"
She nodded. "I want to be an agent, but I'm not going to steal your clients."
Tom walked past her to stare out the plate-glass windows at the Bay. "Sink or swim."
"Excuse me?"
Her father turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "I don't have the first clue why he wants to work with you. But go ahead, take him. He's yours." He strode to the door, stopping just inside the threshold, "just be careful, Melissa. Dominic might seem like a nice guy, but he's just like any other player, keeping an eye out for the next best thing to come along." He paused. "And I wouldn't trust JP as far as I could throw him. You're a pretty girl. Don't forget it."
Chapter Nine
Early that evening, Melissa spent another hour trying on outfits. She should have spent the time digging deeper into JP's situation, but too little sleep last night combined with her intense anticipation of dinner tonight made concentration impossible. So far, all she'd done was google JP and print out his long list of transgressions. The press certainly loved writing about all the trouble he got into. The huge stack of gossip pieces and articles awaited her tomorrow morning, along with an appointment with her new client at his oceanfront rental along the Pacific Coast Highway in South San Francisco.
She needed to settle things with Dominic tonight, so then she'd be clear-headed and focused in the morning. The only problem was, she couldn't forget the way he'd made her feel, the way he'd branded every inch of her skin with his touch.
One night with him had changed everything. She would never be able to settle for anything less than the passion he'd aroused in her. Which laid the impossible task before her: find another man who utterly and completely rocked her world.
The doorbell rang and her heart fluttered madly as she headed into her foyer/living room. Her apartment was piddly compared to Dominic's expensive, masculine lair, but it was a cozy place to come home to. She opened the door and lost her breath.
She should have been used to his magnificence by now, but she wasn't. Far from it.
"Come in," she said in as strong a voice as she could manage with no air in her lungs.
He handed her a single rose. A red one. "For you."
He was simply being a gentleman. He probably bought dozens of roses every week for dozens of women. Dominic's thoughtfulness was part of his innate charm. It had nothing whatsoever to do with how he did—or didn't—feel about her.
"Thank you. It's beautiful." Glad to have something to do with her hands, she found a vase for the rose.
His eyes hungrily traveled her body, and she wondered if she was imagining the possession she read in his eyes.
"You look wonderful."
The V between her legs throbbed with need, now that she knew how his touch could turn her inside out in the most pleasurable way possible.
No—she wouldn't keep doing this to herself. Crumpling the rose's wrapping into a ball and shoving it into the garbage can, she told herself to stay on track. Strictly professional.
As they walked out to his car, she stuck to business. "What do you think about the team's prospects for next year? Any new players to watch?"