LEANDRO’S ARMS SCREAMED with exhaustion, and his lungs heaved, desperate for air as he worked the heavy battle ropes up and down in an undulating rhythm. Sweat cascaded down his temples, soaking his hair and coating his bare torso. He spared a glance at the timer on the wall; twenty seconds to go. With an anguished cry, he pushed himself even harder, pouring every remaining ounce of energy he had into the training drill. After what seemed like an eternity, the timer went off, and with a final burst of strength, he slammed the ropes down onto the rubber mats covering the floor.
“Filho da puta,” he muttered to himself, somehow managing to pick up his towel with his dead arms and wipe some of the sweat from his brow. He sank down onto the weight bench and took a long pull on his water bottle, giving himself a minute to recover. He’d been working harder than ever, challenging himself to get stronger, faster, better, but it never felt like enough. No amount of sweat, torturous drills, or training could erase the fact that he felt like a fraud. Maybe if he trained like a world-class champion, he’d actually feel like one.
From his spot on the bench, he glanced up at the shelf where his WFC championship belt sat, the gold glinting in the bright morning sunshine streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He’d placed it in the center of his home gym because every time he looked at it, he didn’t feel proud or satisfied. No, instead he felt hungry and eager to prove himself. He’d vowed that next time would be different. He’d be ready, no matter who his opponent was.
With a groan, he rose from the bench and made his way over to the heavy bag in the corner. He pulled on his gloves and started working it in varying combinations, throwing in elbows, knees, and kicks as he got going, losing himself in the rhythm of feigned combat. The only sounds were the hip-hop playing from the Bluetooth speakers in the ceiling, his harsh breathing, and the satisfying smacks of his limbs against the leather bag. This was why he’d set up his own gym in the house when he’d moved to Vegas. The WFC facility was nice, but too crowded, too noisy. Too distracting. He preferred to train alone, focusing entirely on technique. Trainers came to him, and he set his own schedule, not the other way around. Along with the battle ropes and heavy bag, he’d also set up a weight rack, a treadmill, and various other small pieces of equipment—jump ropes, plyo boxes, and medicine balls. An open area in the middle left him space to practice grappling and jiujitsu. For everything else, he used the WFC facility.
The chime of the doorbell pulled his focus from the bag, the echoing, melodic peal settling over him like dread. She was here. But he didn’t move to answer it—one of the staff would take care of it. He’d make her come to him. Just because the situation had been forced on him didn’t mean he couldn’t quickly and easily gain the upper hand.
He hit the bag harder, anger and resentment churning through him. First his grandfather, and now this bullshit. Why couldn’t people just let him be? He wasn’t hurting anyone. Well, except the scumbag he’d punched for assaulting Red, but he’d gotten far less than he’d deserved as far as Leandro was concerned. He was an adult, and other people needed to learn to mind their own business. He didn’t need some PR woman telling him what to do and where to go. Didn’t Craig Darcy understand that he was Leandro fucking Oliveira? If he wanted, he could buy the whole goddamn WFC.
He paused. Maybe that was the solution. He’d buy the league and run it his way. But just as quickly as the thought had appeared, he dismissed it with a shake of his head. Too much work.
He heard the front door open and close, and then the distinctive click of heels echoing off of the polished hardwood floor as they approached. The main floor of his home was open concept, bright and airy with no walls separating one space from another. The living room, kitchen, and dining room all flowed together seamlessly, and he’d converted the back corner into his gym, mainly because he liked the view and the way the light came in through the windows in the morning while he trained.
“Mr. Oliveira,” said his housekeeper Loretta, “Ashlynn Fields is here to see you.”
He grunted and nodded, still working the bag, not looking at her. Making her wait. Setting the tone for how things were going to be. He wasn’t sure how long he ignored her. Fifteen, maybe twenty seconds, and then he heard her heels once again clicking against the floor, moving away from him before he’d acknowledged her. He dropped his fists and glanced up from the bag just in time to see the world’s most luscious ass heading toward his kitchen. Thick blond waves fell down past her shoulders, reaching almost to her tiny waist. Long, toned legs emerged from her black pencil skirt. He hadn’t even seen her face, and he was already conjuring up all kinds of dirty fantasies. Maybe, if God was kind, she’d have a lazy eye or a missing tooth.
Before he could stop himself, he followed her. “Hey, wait. Where are you going?”
She turned around, and he knew God was laughing at him because she was stunningly gorgeous. Bright green eyes, high cheekbones, wide mouth, creamy skin. His eyes dipped lower, and he wasn’t sure if the situation was made better or worse by the fact that even her loose-fitting blouse couldn’t hide her ample breasts.
Her eyes met his and something flashed in them, almost like a victory.
Fuck. She’d made him chase after her on purpose.
“You seemed busy, so I thought I’d wait in here. Nice place,” she said, and he could tell she was trying to keep her tone casual, but the tiniest hint of intimidation had crept in along with it. Perhaps she wasn’t used to taking meetings in multimillion-dollar mansions.
Seeing his chance to try to regain the upper hand, he shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess. It’s just a rental.”
She glanced around, and for a second, he tried to see it through her eyes. The modern architecture with clean lines. Hardwood floors and recessed lighting. Floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded a view of the infinity pool and a golf course. A fireplace that stretched up the entire length of the wall. Massive pieces of modern art on the walls. Expensive furniture. A kitchen filled with a quarry’s worth of marble.
She raised her eyebrows. “I think you and I have different definitions of okay, Mr. Oliveira.”
“Please, just Leandro,” he said, holding his hand out. As they shook, her eyes traveled down his bare torso, and a subtle flush crept up her delicate neck. Suddenly he was very confident that winning the upper hand in this less than desirable situation wouldn’t be so difficult. He’d flirt with her, unnerve her, charm her, and he’d be able to do whatever he wanted. Problem solved.
“Ashlynn,” she finally said, clearing her throat softly as she took her hand back.
Hell, maybe this would actually be fun.
He reached past her, his bare arm brushing hers as he plucked an apple from the glass bowl on the kitchen counter. “Hungry?” he asked, offering it to her.
She hesitated for a second, staring at the apple as though it might bite her, and then shook her head. “No thank you.”
He raised one shoulder in a casual half shrug that he knew made his muscles bunch and flex. “Suit yourself.” He took a bite of the apple, chewing slowly. She watched as he swallowed, and he found that he liked her gaze on him.
She cleared her throat again. “Is there somewhere we could talk?”
He nodded and led her outside to the terrace and the little table where he ate his breakfast the mornings he was at home. He pulled her chair out for her and then sat down opposite her, taking another bite of his apple. Her eyes roved from his face to his chest and back to his face again. She swallowed and bit her lip, fidgeting ever so slightly in her seat. Blood flowed into his semihard cock as he imagined her wiggling that ass against him, breathless and sweaty, begging and moaning.
She looked up and when her eyes caught his, he could barely see the green, her pupils were so wide.
Perfect.
She took a breath, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then clasped her hands on the table. “As you know, I’ve been brought on to help with your public image.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my image.”
She scoffed. “Craig Darcy and some of the WFC’s biggest sponsors beg to differ. Now that you’re the champion, you’re subject to even more public scrutiny than before. We can’t undo what’s been done, but we can give the media positive things to focus on going forward.”
He leaned back in his chair, fighting his frustration with the situation. “I haven’t done anything so bad.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, challenging her, wanting to make her list his transgressions, his litany of sin. Wanting to see her react, wanting to throw her even more off balance.
“Oh, really?” She raised a brow. “The sex tape alone is concerning, not to mention your little fight two nights ago.”
A blush rose on her cheeks when she mentioned the sex tape, but to her credit, she didn’t look away.
“You’ve seen it?” he asked, the corner of his mouth kicking up. Her blush deepened and then her gaze flicked down to his crotch.
Oh yeah. She’d seen it. His dick twitched in his athletic shorts, and he wanted to ask her what she’d thought of it. Had she liked it? Touched herself while she watched? That last thought took his erection from halfway to all the way there.
But her response surprised him. “I’m sorry your privacy was invaded that way. I know you never intended that night to be public.” She sent him a sympathetic smile, and suddenly he was the one off balance. For a brief moment, he felt like an asshole for trying to manipulate her when she was only doing her job, and being kind to him on top of that.
But the moment passed when she continued talking. “My point is, like it or not, you’re a media figure now. Your actions aren’t just about you—they reflect on the entire WFC organization. Both Coke and Warner Brothers are threatening to pull out of their contracts because of your behavior.” She leveled her gaze at him before bringing down the hammer. “It’s selfish, Leandro. Your actions could cost the league a lot of money, which in turn could affect a lot of other fighters. Fighters who don’t have anywhere close to the same means as you.”
Her words hit home, and he shifted uncomfortably.
“We need a course correction,” she continued. “We need to generate some positive PR in order to help people forget about the negative stuff—that’s why I’m here.”
He nodded slowly, taking another bite of his apple. “So what’s your plan?”
“I’ve arranged for you to make an appearance at the Sunrise Children’s Hospital here in Las Vegas.”
He made a face. “Fine. What else?” He knew there had to be more than just that. Craig Darcy wouldn’t have hired a PR consultant to manage him if it was just going to be one event.
“Over the next few weeks, you have several appearances coming up. I’ll be coming with you to help you manage any questions about the negative press, and . . .” She swallowed and licked her lips. “And to make sure there are no further negative events.”
He opened and closed his mouth and then held up his hand. “Wait. Wait just a second. I’m fine with doing the hospital visit. But I can handle my own interviews, and I don’t need you to . . .” Shit, the English word he wanted was escaping him. “To . . . sit on me.”
Their eyes locked, and his mind conjured up an image of her doing just that, and the air around them seemed to grow heavy. Her lips parted slightly, and just that tiny movement felt like a victory. There was something appealingly innocent about her, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. All he knew was that it made him want to wrap that blond hair around his fist and show her all the ways he could corrupt her.
She glanced away, her cheeks pink. “Do you mean babysit?” she asked, an amused smile playing across her lips.
He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Yes. Babysit. I don’t need you to babysit me.”
“If that were true, I wouldn’t be sitting here.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a folder, setting it on the table between them. “Please read these over. They’re talking points and PR strategies I’ve put together for you.” She opened it and pointed to a business card tucked in the front. “If you have any questions, call me.”
He plucked the card from the folder, smiling playfully at her. “You want me to call you, huh?”
She rolled her eyes and stood. “This entire situation is of your own making, so if you don’t like it, you only have yourself to blame.” She leaned down, tapping her finger on the folder. “You can try as hard as you want, but you’re not going to be able to flirt your way out of this. Like it or not, I’m in charge.” She pushed the folder toward him. “Read it. I’ll see you Saturday for the visit.”
Without another word, she gathered her bag and headed back into the house, taking her luscious ass and long legs with her.
Well. He’d always liked a challenge.
PLEASE DON’T BE an asshole. Please don’t be an asshole.
That mantra had repeated itself in Ashlynn’s mind for the past twenty-four hours; pretty much ever since she’d stepped into the cancer ward on the fourth floor of the Sunrise Children’s Hospital the day before to confirm things with the community outreach coordinator. She’d seen the sweet little faces of the kids staring back at her and had imagined all kinds of horrible scenarios. What if Leandro was rude to the kids? What if he showed up pouting about having to be there? What if he walked in with his typical arrogance and was cool and aloof?
What if this event had been a gigantic mistake?
On paper, having Leandro spend time with the kids was the perfect solution to their problem. It’d show another side of him, a softer side that wasn’t shallow and self-absorbed. A side that was concerned with making a positive impact on the world. It wouldn’t erase the unsavory things he’d done, but it could help to paint a more complete picture of the man, giving fans and advertisers a reason to overlook some of the negative press. Now that it was time for the event to start, she was having serious doubts about it working out the way she’d planned. If it blew up in her face, she’d have no chance of working with the WFC full-time. Not to mention that the PR circle in Las Vegas was small, so it could affect her ability to piece together more freelance work.
The lobby of the cancer ward floor was a giant community area. Nurses and staff bustled behind a check-in desk to the left, but the rest of the room was set up like a lounge with comfortable chairs and couches spread out over the space. A wall of windows kept it bright and airy. Each wall was painted a different color of the rainbow to match the brightly colored furniture and tile floor.
Ashlynn had first arrived with a few WFC staff members about an hour ago to set up. They’d arranged the furniture around an open area where Leandro would show off his moves for the kids and the official WFC backdrop covered one corner so that Leandro could pose for photos with the kids afterward. They’d also brought in several life-size cutouts of the current champions, and some of the kids were walking through them now taking pictures with their parents.
Her contact at the hospital had gently suggested having Leandro visit patient rooms before he left because some of the kids were too sick to participate in the demo in the common area, and Ashlynn’s heart had clenched. She’d tried to call Leandro the day before to go over everything, but he hadn’t answered and hadn’t bothered to call her back. If he screwed this up . . . She glanced at the news crew from KLAS-TV and the reporter from ESPN Radio who sat near them. A few MMA websites had sent their own reporters and photographers too. With fifteen minutes before Leandro was due to arrive, they all waited patiently, ready to film every second of her potentially giant screw-up.
She needed to talk to Leandro before he walked in. Punching the button on the elevator so that she could meet him on the ground floor, she stepped inside and pulled out her phone. She’d texted him a reminder that morning, but he hadn’t responded. No surprise there. Ashlynn had considered the fact that Leandro might be so angry he’d bail, so she’d asked Jules to bring her fiancé, Nick Giannakis, the reigning middleweight champion, just in case. Her knees went weak with relief when she saw Jules’ text.
ETA 15 minutes.
Even if Leandro was a no-show, at least there’d be someone for the kids to meet and the day wouldn’t be a complete disaster.
When the elevator doors opened, Ashlynn moved to step out, nearly colliding with a broad male chest. She gasped and wobbled on her heels, but a pair of strong hands grabbed her hips to steady her. She knew from the sizzle of electricity that zapped down her spine that it was Leandro. Her suspicion was confirmed when she looked up to see his strong jaw covered in scruff and his dark brown hair a carefully arranged mess. Up close Leandro seemed so much bigger and more intimidating than he had the other day. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but he raised a brow and smiled, revealing straight, white teeth. “Leaving already?”
Her heart fluttered at his deep, smooth voice, and she was speechless for a minute simply from having the intensity of his attention focused on her. She’d felt it the other day at his home, but he hadn’t touched her then except to shake her hand. That had left her fingers tingling and her heart racing, causing her to realize just how acute her attraction to him was. But this . . . Not only was her heart was racing, but her nipples had tightened and heat moved through her, making her whole body come to life. He moved his thumb in a small sweep over her hip, and something pulsed deep inside her, begging for more.
It wasn’t a good idea to get close to him, she realized. Not if she wanted the job Craig Darcy had promised her. That thought was driven home when the spicy scent of his cologne met her nose. He smelled like long nights in front of a fire, making love. Like champagne and long, hot baths. Like swimming in the Mediterranean. He smelled like decadence.
Get it together, Ashlynn. One whiff of his cologne and she was in a Dior commercial. She took a step backward into the elevator and his hands fell away so she could think again. “No, I was coming to meet you.”
One corner of his mouth tipped up, like he knew she’d been worried he wouldn’t come. He probably had. Making her worry had undoubtedly been his petty revenge for having to do this. “I don’t break promises, Ashlynn. I told you I’d be here.”
She bit her lip at how much she liked the way her name sounded in his accent. He followed her into the elevator, and she realized he wasn’t alone. She recognized Sunya Leekpai, a Muay Thai trainer who frequently worked with the WFC, and said hello to him, thanking him for coming. He nodded politely in return. The other man with Leandro gave her a once-over that was vaguely insulting, and she disliked him immediately. She recognized him as one of the men who’d accompanied Leandro to the cage at his championship fight. He’d also been in the video clip of Leandro leaving the restaurant, laughing when Leandro gave his now famous sound bite to the paparazzo. Something told her he probably wasn’t the best influence on Leandro.
“This is my friend, Thiago,” Leandro explained as he turned to stand beside her. Thiago transferred Leandro’s championship belt from one shoulder to the other, but he didn’t say a word.
Ashlynn forced a smile and pressed the button for the fourth floor. “I’m glad you’re here a few minutes early. I wanted to discuss the plan.” As the elevator took them upstairs, she quickly went through the itinerary for the next two hours, trying not to breathe too deeply so she wouldn’t get another whiff of Leandro’s cologne.
Instead of acknowledging her plan, when the elevator doors opened Leandro took off his sunglasses and looked at her. She was struck by the intensity of his blue-green eyes. “Relax, Ashlynn. Let life happen.” With those words he stepped out onto the fourth floor and the kids recognized him immediately. As their excited voices got louder, he passed his sunglasses to Thiago, who handed him the heavy championship belt.
She followed everyone off the elevator, a little miffed by what he’d said. Who was he to tell her to relax? Maybe in his world everything happened without very much effort on his part, but in her world—the real world—people worked for a living and had schedules to keep. Besides, she was very good at relaxing. She just chose not to do it while she was working because she wanted to keep her job. Jerk.
Her gaze narrowed as she watched him strut across the room to the demo area. Somehow he managed to look like he’d just stepped off a runway modeling workout clothes. He wore dark gray sweatpants that clung to his hips and emphasized the defined muscles in his backside, and a WFC-issued T-shirt that he’d modified to include the Brazilian flag on the sleeves. No doubt Craig Darcy would fine him for that. Again.
Now that he was here, she wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected to happen. But after the hospital’s outreach coordinator introduced him, he smiled and stepped into the demo area as if he’d done it a million times. He was friendly and easygoing with the kids. He passed the belt around so that they could touch it and cracked jokes about how heavy it was. Then, instead of demonstrating moves with Sunya like she’d expected, he brought a couple of kids up and taught them some holds.
“Oh my, someone knows how to work a crowd.”
Ashlynn turned to see Jules approaching, and followed her gaze to the front desk, where a line of nurses had gathered to watch Leandro, all with infatuated grins on their faces. One even tilted her head a little, presumably to better appreciate his ass, and whispered to her friend, who did the same thing. Ashlynn smiled. “He’s doing better than I thought he would.” There was something appealing about watching Leandro be so gentle with the kids. Her glance went to the news crew, who had a camera trained on Leandro, and she hoped the footage would be enough to reverse some of the damage.
“Me too,” Jules said, her gaze on Leandro as Nick walked up and put his arm around her. “I admit I thought it’d be an unmitigated disaster. I’ve never had any luck getting him to cooperate in the past. I’m glad I was wrong.”
“I knew he’d be fine,” Nick said, a smile on his handsome face.
“How’d you know that?” Jules asked.
He shrugged and kept his voice low. “Oliveira wants to prove himself. He felt cheated by the way Gabe let him win the belt. He won’t do anything to jeopardize his chance to prove himself in the cage again. As long as there’s a risk Craig might take that away from him, he’ll behave.”
Ashlynn watched Leandro let a kid get him into a headlock, feeling lighter as some of the weight of the task before her began to lift. Nick had just given her the key that would allow her to control Leandro, at least until his next bout.
“Thanks so much for coming,” she said to Nick and Jules. “But it looks like he’s got everything under control if you have other plans.”
“Nah, I’ll stay.” Nick waved at a kid who’d noticed him. “It’ll be fun.” Giving Jules a squeeze, he walked over to the demo area and challenged Leandro to a mock fight for the belt. Leandro played along and pretty soon they had all the kids laughing.
“He always does this,” Jules said with a smile on her face as she watched Nick. “Kids adore him.” The love she felt for him was evident in her smile, and Ashlynn felt a tug of longing for that same love in her life.
Ashlynn had found herself wanting someone special in her life for a while now. She thought she’d done everything right. She looked for responsible men to date who had steady jobs, reliable cars, and everything else her mother had drilled into her that she should look for in a guy. Her own father had been one of the most irresponsible men on the planet. A mechanic who’d drifted from job to job, he’d taken off with some motorcycle club in Southern California when she’d been six years old. She’d seen firsthand how her mother had struggled to raise her and her younger sister on her own. She didn’t want that fate for herself, but none of the responsible guys had worked out because they left her feeling bored and unfulfilled in a way she didn’t understand. And the few times she’d gone with her gut and dated guys who excited her had all ended in disaster. Every single one of them. There’d been the guy who’d constantly borrowed money, the guy who’d had a secret gambling addiction, and the guy who’d left her in some shady bar in Reno while he’d hooked up with a stripper.
It was official: she had horrible taste in men when left to her own devices. Her self-preservation meter was broken, so she chose men who had no problem hurting her. It was probably why she was so attracted to Leandro. He was selfish, shallow, consumed with his own pleasure, and was everything she needed to stay away from. So why couldn’t she stop staring at his ass in those sweatpants?
Shaking her head, she grabbed her phone to distract herself, intending to send a text to her sister to make sure they were still on for dinner that night. But there was a text waiting for her from an unidentified number.
Can I come over tonight? – Jason
Her heart jumped into her throat as she read the name. Jason. Her most recent mistake.
Leave me alone.
She typed out the words and then blocked him for the second time. Maybe it was time for her to change her number. She typed out a quick text to her sister to confirm their plans for the night and then spent the next several minutes talking to Jules about Leandro’s upcoming interviews and appearances. They’d moved to one of the couches off to the side of the room to talk, and she didn’t realize how the room had cleared out until one of the nurses approached.
“Thank you again for arranging this, Ashlynn. The kids loved it.” The woman had plump cheeks and salt-and-pepper hair that she wore in a bun. She looked like a sweet grandmother, but Ashlynn knew she ran the floor like a general. She’d seen a few of the younger nurses pick up their pace around her.
“I’m so glad they enjoyed it.” Ashlynn stood to talk to her. “Thank you for allowing us the opportunity to be here.”
“Anytime, dear. I must say I’ve never watched a WFC program, but if these young men are an example of what to expect, I’ll be tuning in.”
Ashlynn couldn’t hold back a laugh. She had a feeling the woman was talking about Nick and Leandro’s physiques more than their fighting skills. “Thank you. We’re always looking to reach new fans.”
Ashlynn and Jules spoke with the media, answering last-minute questions before clearing out the room and moving the furniture back to its original spot.
About the time they’d finished, Nick and Sunya emerged from a patient’s room at the end of the hall. Ashlynn thanked them again for participating and walked them to the elevators where they left with Jules and the rest of the WFC staff. Turning around, she gave the room a once-over to make sure everything was back where it should be. She frowned when she saw Thiago sprawled out on a couch, his attention on his phone’s screen while the championship belt rested next to him. Where was Leandro?
She made her way down the south wing, trying to be unobtrusive as she glanced into rooms with open doors to look for him. He wasn’t there and she started to worry that maybe he’d left somehow without her knowing. She was halfway down the hall in the north wing when she noticed a group of nurses and volunteers hovering outside one of the rooms near the end of the hallway. They each carried a bouquet of flowers or balloons, and one by one they disappeared into the room, only to emerge without them. But instead of leaving, they stood near the doorway, murmuring to one another and smiling as they looked at what was going on inside.
“He is so hot,” one of them said.
“It shouldn’t be legal to be so hot and so sweet,” another answered.
Ashlynn smiled as she realized she’d found Leandro. “Excuse me,” she whispered as she brushed past them to get into the room. She wanted to gently suggest it was time to leave before they overstayed their welcome, but she came to an abrupt stop at the sight before her. Every surface in the room was covered with bouquets of flowers with balloons attached to them.
“I can’t believe this is all for me!” A little girl who looked to be around ten sat in the bed wearing a purple robe. Her skin was pale, but her cheeks were rosy with excitement. Her mother sat on the bed next to her, wiping her eyes as she smiled.
“You said you wanted flowers, so I bring you flowers,” Leandro said from his place in the chair next to the bed.
“You must have bought out the entire gift shop.” Her mother laughed and gave her daughter a hug.
“It’s the least I can do.” Leandro shrugged. “No one should have to be in the hospital on their birthday.” He smiled as he plucked one of the pink roses from a vase and put it behind the little girl’s ear. “Happy birthday, minha flor.”
She grinned and put her arms around him. “Thank you, Leandro.”
Much to Ashlynn’s surprise, he held the girl close in a hug, his eyes closed as he tightened his hold. “You’re welcome.” When he pulled back, he gently touched the girl’s chin to hold her gaze. “Remember, never give up. You’re a fighter like me.”
The girl smiled and nodded, and Ashlynn felt a lump well in her throat.
“Thank you for this, Leandro. You’ve made her day so special. We’ll always remember this,” the girl’s mother said.
Leandro nodded and rose to his feet. “Get some rest, minha flor. I’ll come check on you again someday, okay?”
“Okay,” she said and laid down, pulling the blanket up. “Bye, Leandro.”
“See you soon.” He smiled and ran a gentle hand over the hat she wore.
He seemed surprised when he turned to see Ashlynn there, but didn’t say anything as he made his way through the crowd to the hallway. She quietly followed him, waiting until they’d left everyone behind before saying, “That was very nice of you.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t much. Just some flowers.”
“I know, but it meant a lot to her. It was nice of you to take that time with her.”
He stopped walking and looked down at her. “You say that as if you’re surprised.”
She swallowed, a little alarmed that he’d picked up on that. “I might have misjudged you. I didn’t expect you to get so personally involved.”
His eyes darkened somehow as he dropped his gaze to her breasts and then lower. “Hmm . . .” Heat swept over her skin as the sound of his voice moved through her body. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Ashlynn.”
He took a step toward her, invading her space and bringing his maddeningly enticing scent with him. “In fact, I think I can read you a lot better than you can read me.” He took another step, and her back hit the wall. She let out a small, undignified squeak, too caught up in being surrounded by Leandro to move. He trailed a hand up her arm, leaving tingling goose bumps in his wake. “You doubt me, you make assumptions, you think you know me when you won’t even admit to yourself how much you like me.”
Keeping up her string of undignified noises, she snorted softly. “I don’t like you.”
“I guess it’s just cold in here then, hmm?” His gaze dropped again to her breasts, and her nipples tightened almost to the point of aching.
No! She wasn’t going to let him get to her.
“Positively frosty.” She glanced down at his sweatpants and the monster they contained. “Which would explain . . .” She let her voice trail off and raised one shoulder in a casual shrug.
He grinned. “Call me if you ever want to know more.” He dropped his head, his breath brushing over her ear. “About anything.” Then he walked away with his typical Oliveira swagger.
She watched him go, certain that she would not be calling him no matter how much her body wanted her to. Some things were best left unknown, and Leandro was one of them.