Ask For It

  ASK FOR IT

  By Selena Blake

  Payment of the download fee for this ebook grants the purchaser the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to download and read this file, and to maintain a private backup copy of the file for the purchaser’s personal use ONLY.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2013 Ecila Media Corp

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, places or events is purely coincidental. Characters, events, and organizations within this work are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously.

  DEDICATION

  For Zita, Jodie, Nicole, Lynn and Michelle for taking a first look at Trevor and JJ’s story.

  Read the prequel to ASK FOR IT free.

  http://site.selena-blake.com/members/

  CHAPTER ONE

  September

  Atlanta

  There were only two rules that JJ Fairchild followed to the letter. Rule number one: always wear clean underwear. Rule number two: never have sex with strangers. Thus far in her twenty-nine years on this planet those two rules had served her well.

  Her best friend Cindy Smith suffered from no such compunction about rule number two if her latest sexcapade was to be believed.

  JJ wasn’t a prude, but doing the horizontal hokey pokey with a stranger wasn't her idea of a good time. If she was going to do something potentially dangerous, well, sky diving was more her speed. For starters, death would be her own darn fault and if she lived, there would be no possibility of STDs.

  No, she had plenty to worry about without adding an unplanned pregnancy or diseases to the mix. For a moment she pondered checking her email to see if the bank had any word on the nine hundred dollars stolen from her account. But she knew she would probably find another less than pleasant note from her new boss so she got back to the conversation at hand.

  “I can't believe you just walked in there and had sex with the guy,” JJ murmured, even though she was secretly enthralled. Cindy would always be more sexually adventurous; hell, she wrote erotica for a living. But JJ would continue to happily live vicariously. It was safer that way. And Cindy was one hell of a story teller. Complete with accents, impersonations, and sound effects.

  Gretchen Mascoe shifted on the other end of the couch she shared with Cindy. Easily scandalized, she held a hand to the base of her throat. “I can't either,” she said.

  From the far corner of JJ’s sofa, Baby grinned. “I can.”

  Of course she could.

  Baby Campbell lived for sex. Whereas Gretchen was conservative in dress, politics and action, Baby wore short skirts everywhere she went. Except the gym, where she wore short shorts and attracted the attention of every guy in the place.

  “I didn't just walk in there and have sex with the guy,” Cindy denied. Sighing, she sent an exasperated look at JJ, then to Gretchen and finally, Baby. Baby shot her a “yeah, right” look right back.

  The four of them had been like sisters since college. Thursday night was a standing date for dinner, wine, and endless girl talk. So here they were; each snuggled into a corner of the opposing sofas in Gretchen’s living room. Tonight's vino selection was from a new vineyard in California and JJ was tipsy after two glasses of Merlot.

  But she wasn’t snookered enough that she’d let her friend get away with half-truths. She cocked her head at Cindy and raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, so I did have sex with him. But I didn't walk in there planning to,” her friend denied.

  “Well that's a relief,” Gretchen said. Of the four of them, Gretchen was saving herself for her one true love. Except for her college boyfriend. And the hot guy she'd met on vacation last summer. Poor Gretchen. Her heart got broken far too easily. Sex complicated things for her. She wasn’t the type that could just let loose and have fun. When she did, she had expectations and those expectations were never met in the end.

  In that respect, JJ knew exactly how Gretchen felt. They weren't getting any younger, and that was the problem. Their little quartet was still unmarried. Unattached. Very much single.

  JJ hated being single.

  She was plenty used to it, but hated not having someone to wake up to and run things by. Not to mention, it’d be nice to have someone to share her life and goals and dreams with.

  Baby leaned forward, the scoop neckline of her blouse hugging her cleavage. Of the four of them, she was the only one who liked being unattached and therefore able to date any man she wanted, whenever she wanted.

  “I just wanted to teach him a lesson,” Cindy said.

  “I bet you taught him a lesson, all right.” JJ snickered.

  Gasping in mock outrage, Cindy threw an ecru pillow at her. JJ jerked her glass out of the way and precious ruby drops came dangerously close to sloshing out. “Watch it!”

  Baby shushed them with a hand. “What did he say?” She looked like she was ready to beg Cindy for all the juicy details.

  JJ sent her an oh-please look.

  “What? I’ve been in a drought. Work’s been busy.” Baby shrugged and settled back in her seat. A petite blonde with a pixie cut and big blue eyes, she was the most experienced of their little group. She gave new meaning to the saying live hard, play harder.

  Which was saying something since JJ didn’t mind the occasional daredevil activity and Cindy wasn’t opposed to handcuffs in the bedroom.

  Cindy laughed, her eyes glazing over a bit. “I told him it was false advertising. You know. To post a ninety-nine percent up time and then have my site down for four days—”

  “Ninety-nine percent uptime.” Baby giggled and wiggled her blonde eyebrows up and down.

  Cindy grinned. “I told him it'd be like me walking in there and telling him I was going to suck his cock and then not following through.”

  Gretchen choked on her wine. Cindy, smug with satisfaction, leaned over and patted Gretchen on the back. She was definitely the most creative and had the best imagination. JJ admired that, but since she craved financial security, she’d gone the facts and figures route. She’d majored in journalism and free-lanced when she wasn’t traveling for work.

  “And you'll never believe what was on his computer screen.”

  “Porn?” Baby guessed.

  Porn at work? It wasn’t unheard of but JJ’s bet was a racy desktop background. And since the computer in question belonged to a geek, she guessed, “Trinity from the Matrix?”

  “What?” Gretchen asked.

  “My book. He was buying my book. Can you believe it?” Cindy refilled her glass and then tucked her feet up on Gretchen's oversized sofa.

  “Did you tell him it was your book?” Baby asked. Leave it to Baby to hope that Cindy capitalized on her writing. “You could use the whole experience as research,” she said wiggling her eyebrows up and down again.

  Knowing Cindy, the tech support geek had already made his way to the pages of her latest book.

  “No. I didn't even tell him my real name.”

  That was interesting. She started to ask why not when her phone made a low buzzing sound. JJ frowned and glanced down at her iPhone. A text message from John Culpepper, her new boss. Surprise, surprise.

  I KNOW IT’S GIRLS’ NIGHT, BUT PLANS HAVE CHANGED. CHECK YOUR EMAIL.

  Was he being condescending again? She couldn’t tell. Just when she thought that he was respecting her work, he’d make another snide comment that left her gritting her teeth.

  “Waiting for something?” Baby asked, leaning over to look at the screen.

  “No.” After JJ skimmed the message again, she clicked over to the email app. “Damn, I've gotta jet. They're sending me to New York early.” Her schedule had become a wreck ever since her new boss had taken over six months ago.

  “I’
ll call you a cab,” Gretchen said, reaching for the cordless phone.

  “Thanks.”

  “You're gonna be gone all weekend?” Baby asked.

  “I’ll probably be back Monday. The email doesn’t list my return flight. I want all the juicy details out of you next week,” she told Cindy. Her friend just grinned.

  JJ finished off her wine with an unladylike gulp and took the glass into the kitchen.

  “Hugs,” she said as she gathered her purse.

  What were the chances, she wondered as she headed for the door. Her getting sent to New York City, a week after some jerk at a New York City shoe store had stolen over nine hundred dollars out of her checking account. Her mortgage was due in seven days and if the bank didn’t return her money by then… No. She would put that worry on her calendar for next week.

  CHAPTER TWO

  New York City

  JJ wasn't going in. She wasn't.

  She should just head on to her hotel and figure out what to do for dinner. But as she clutched her handbag and stared at the colorful display of sneakers behind the large window, she felt her irritation rise. Why shouldn't she go in? She hadn't done anything wrong.

  Straightening her spine, she reached for the door handle and pulled. JJ didn't know what she expected to find in the shoe store. Obviously shoes, but certainly not the gorgeous salesman behind the counter.

  He stood with his back to her, a phone pressed against his right ear. He was tall with broad shoulders and plenty of chiseled muscle filling out the navy t-shirt and well-worn jeans.

  Staring is rude, her mother’s voice whispered through her mind. JJ knew that but she couldn’t help herself.

  There was something familiar about the man and she found it nearly impossible to tear her gaze away. Those muscles made her tingle in some very important places and it’d been a long time since her body had reacted so strongly, so quickly. There was no denying the increased heart rate, the sweaty palms, the way her knees trembled or her breasts tightened.

  Stopping next to a display of walking shoes she forced herself to look at the colorful laces and take a deep breath. The scent of synthetic material and rubber soles was thick in the air.

  Where did she know him from? A covert glance from the corner of her eye let her take in his profile. Holy smokes. At this rate she’d need a glass of ice water before he even turned around.

  As if she’d called his name, whatever it was, he hung up the phone and turned toward her. JJ bit back a gasp as she took in the golden blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. She'd know that handsome face anywhere...his strong jaw, full lips, and that sexy dimple in his cheek.

  Trevor Wyatt was only one of the best looking men to have ever played in the NFL. Not to mention, one of the cockiest. At least until his accident.

  Suddenly she was twenty four again and he was fresh out of the shower. The locker room was crowded with players and journalists but he’d drawn her gaze like a diamond drew a barracuda. He'd been her fifth interview, and boy was it memorable. The silver-tongued stud had stood there wrapped in nothing but a towel, flirted his ears off, and given her an interview...plus an invitation to dinner. She’d declined, not wanting to be involved with a jock who was only after one thing.

  Not the type to be easily dissuaded, he’d asked her out every chance he got over the years. Until he’d suddenly disappeared from the sport a little over twelve months ago.

  The chemistry between them had always been thick as butter. And once she’d lost the opportunity for another invitation, she’d really missed their easy flirtation. She'd never forgiven herself for declining. He may have been a playboy in his hay day, but he was one fine playboy.

  And the star of numerous fantasies.

  She gave him a quick smile and moved over to a rack of running shoes, picking up one with pink laces.

  Why the hell was he working here? At a shoe store in New York City? He was a millionaire many times over. Unlike many players, he’d never been extravagant that she knew of so the chances of him needing cash were slim. But what did she know?

  She knew he'd been in a car crash that had left him on the sidelines of the game he'd loved so much. But surely he could host a show or coach or something...

  Not for the first time, she wondered if there could have been something between the two of them. She’d never had time to date anyone seriously; there was always a sporting event to be covered. He on the other hand had dated a dozen glamorous, famous women over the years.

  A freckle faced teen in clothes three sizes too large joined Trevor behind the counter. Grinning, he said something, smacked Trevor on the back and then glanced around the store.

  JJ dropped her gaze to the shoe in her hand. The thick sole and padding promised a heavenly run.

  “Can I help you?” The teen's voice cracked a little as he approached. She turned toward him and noted the look of male appreciation in his eyes.

  She'd love a new pair of sneakers. Something light and dreamy. Something that offered support and cushion. She zeroed in to the price tag for the shoe in her hand. One hundred and forty four dollars.

  Her blood pressure spiked.

  How many pairs could she buy with nine hundred dollars? Better yet, when would she get the money back? An even better question was how had they stolen her credit card number? How had they used it? Was it an inside job?

  The bank had only told her that the money had been used for purchases at this store and asked if she’d been in the city or knew anyone who was.

  She knew next to nothing about thieves and how they stole things. What she did know was she wanted answers. And justice.

  Taking a deep breath she glanced back up at the teen. “No. Thank you.”

  “Okay. Well, my shift just ended so if you need something, ask Trevor.” He jerked his thumb, which sported black fingernail polish, toward the counter and then headed toward the door.

  Ask Trevor.

  If there’d been any doubt in her mind about the gorgeous man’s identity, the kid had cleared that up.

  Ask Trevor.

  That sounded simple enough. But just what was she going to ask Trevor? Dozens of questions popped into her brain.

  How was he doing these days?

  What had he been doing since he left the NFL?

  Did he miss playing football?

  Most importantly she wanted to know why he was working here and where her money had gone.

  Deep down, a part of her wanted to know what it would have been like to accept his dinner invitation and see where it led. To see if their chemistry was as explosive as she’d always assumed it would be.

  He probably wouldn’t recognize her anyway. She’d lost twenty pounds last year thanks to a no carb diet and a new found love of running. Well, as much as one could love exercise.

  Besides, her blonde hair was shorter and dark brown now.

  She’d made the change when John had taken over the reins at CSN and passed her by for story after story. She even wore brown contacts whenever she went into the office, to tone down the natural blue-gray color so many men found distracting. It was obvious by John’s patronizing tone that he hadn’t taken her seriously in the beginning despite her portfolio. This trip was proof that her physical changes had helped him see her as one of the guys.

  No. Trevor Wyatt wouldn’t recognize her.

  It wouldn’t matter if he did. She couldn't just walk up to him and demand to know where her money was, could she? He probably wouldn’t even know. And there was no way she could ask him to dinner. She’d lost her chance. Besides, he was probably involved with someone tall and leggy, curvy in all the right places.

  Not that JJ cared. She should leave. Just turn and walk right out the door. Back into the sunlight, away from him, away from the answers she so desperately wanted.

  Instead she found herself drifting closer to the counter, as if her feet had a mind of their own. She kept her gaze locked on the rows of shoes covering the wall, floor to ceiling.

&nbs
p; Maybe she should just call her bank again. Let them handle it. Yeah, that was a good idea. She could call them from her hotel.

  “Let me know if I can get anything from the back for you,” a deep, honeyed voice called. She turned toward it and Trevor offered her a brief smile.

  Her stomach did a round-off back handspring, back tuck before hula-hooping around her knees. The reaction was nothing new. She always experienced a little physics defying sensation in her gut when he spoke to her, not to mention a little shortness of breath.

  When he looked her up and down, his pensive blue gaze lingering on her legs, her pulse started to hammer. She was used to that too. And damn, she missed it. For whatever inexplicable, undeniable reason, she always felt so alive when he was near. All her senses heightened and everything seemed more acute, more exciting.

  “Thanks.” She glanced back at the shoes and decided it was time to go. The sneakers weren’t in her price range and she wasn't about to splurge on running shoes when she'd been eating salad and noodles for the last week.

  Every spare dime went into fixing up her latest flip; a cute condo in midtown Atlanta. Not that she had many spare dimes at the moment. And even if she was willing to splurge, most of the shoes that she was interested in would require her to dip into her savings since she didn't get paid until next Friday.

  Dipping into savings wasn't a possibility. She'd specifically set up savings in CDs and Money Market Funds that she couldn't touch without penalty for years at a time. She knew herself, and her impulsiveness, far too well. It’s how she’d gotten into flipping properties. Well, that and a persuasive but handy-with-a-hammer stepbrother.

  Despite a healthy nest egg, she still lived with the fear of having nothing to eat. Nowhere safe to sleep. Funny how most people couldn’t remember their fourth birthday; JJ remembered hers perfectly. She and her mother had been homeless. There were no presents to celebrate four years on the planet. No cake either.