Player Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Title

  Also by Kara Sparks

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Newsletter

  Contents

  Copyright

  Title

  Also by Kara Sparks

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Also by Kara Sparks

  Newsletter

  Copyright © 2017 by Kara Sparks

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  PLAYER

  BY

  KARA SPARKS

  Also by Kara Sparks

  Trouble

  Ride

  SEAL Daddy Next Door

  1

  NATE

  “Come on, we all know that old ‘Notorious Nate’ here has had more girls than all of us combined.”

  The work site folds into a blur of laughter as everyone has a chuckle at my expense. It’s lunchtime and the guys are doing what they do best, sitting around and talking about women. It’s Friday, and it’s been another long week of throwing up McMansions in new suburbia.

  “What’s your secret Nate? How do you make those girls so crazy?” Grant, one of the younger guys on the site, asks while tearing a chunk out of a salami sandwich.

  I take a sip of my coffee and shrug, I never really intended to be a womanizer, it just ended up happening. “I dunno, but your mother can’t seem to get enough.” It’s a cheap shot, and it’s not exactly creative, but the guys love it, and the whole yard breaks into a blaze of laughter. We’re loud enough to remind the boss, Charlie, that it’s time to get back to work. The guys peel away reluctantly and get back to it.

  I can turn my hands to most things when it comes to building, but I’m generally hired for my woodworking skills. I spend the rest of the afternoon cutting planks to size and hammering A-Frames together. It’s menial work, and it doesn’t even come close to testing my skills, but it pays well enough and keeps me busy. My real passion comes alive when I’m creating. One day I hope to have my own shop where I can build custom furniture and sell sculpture, until then I’m happy grinding away at my nine to five and putting up with the locker room talk.

  The whistle blows at three in the afternoon, signaling it’s time to go home. Most guys take the opportunity to finish up early on the weekend, but I decide to stay and ignore the sign to leave. The site empties over the next few hours. I pop my earphones in and listen to music while I cut pieces of lumber for next week. I assume that everyone else left hours ago, but a tap on my arm tells a different story. Looking up from my saw, I see it’s my boss Charlie. Charlie is fairly used to seeing me here past the whistle. The overtime rates are good and he knows I’m saving up for my own shop. He slides his hand across his throat, telling me to kill the saw. I shut it off and pull my plugs out.

  “Get going.” He says while pulling the saw plug from the wall. “You’ve worked enough this week as it is. I’ll write that you worked overtime until eight.”

  I look down at my watch and see it’s six. “Mighty fine of you Charlie. How can I repay this kind gesture?”

  “Heck,” he folds his tanned forearms over his chest and his eyes glint. “Indulge an old man with some tales. What you up to this weekend? You busy lady killing again?”

  I can’t help but laugh. Charlie has a couple decades on me, and he’s been a devout husband since I was wearing diapers. My reputation as the ‘Fling King’ proceeds me, and he takes joy in hearing tales of my exploits. I pull my phone out my pocket and look down at the screen, there’s a dozen text messages and countless notifications from my social media accounts. Every message and every notification is an invitation from one of my many admirers, and they all want the same thing: a rumble with Notorious Nate Rogers.

  “The offers are starting to roll in.” I say while shoving my phone back into my pocket. “But I’m actually working again this weekend, so my schedule is pretty packed. I doubt I’ll have much time to do any serious lady killing, but I might be able to fit a girl or two in.”

  Charlie’s eyes crease, and he bursts into laughter. “God, I wish I was young again. If you want my advice—and I know you don’t—forget about the part time work and have fun. You’re not still doing that darned limo work are you?”

  I nod. “Sure am. You know me Nate, I’m trying to save every silver dollar I can.”

  Outside of being a carpenter in the week, I work as a model / chauffeur for a limo company that specializes in transporting women. Hunks in Limos specializes in providing a ‘luxurious travel service’ to female clientele. As a driver, my job is to look good in my uniform, which is a cap, bow-tie, thong, and not much else. It’s not exactly the most respectable gig in the world, but it’s good fun, pays well and I end up meeting a lot of girls through it.

  Charlie shakes his head and laughs. “Man. I wish I understood kids today. Me and Nancy just like to sit in and watch Millionaire reruns on Friday evenings.”

  “Damn, that sounds perfect to me. I’ll ring the Limo company and call in sick.”

  “Oh hey, before you go, there was a request from a tenant over in number four. Something about a busted chair. Can you look at it quickly before you head off?”

  “Can do.”

  I pack my things up, throw my tools into my sky blue pickup and drive over to number four. The site we’re working on at the moment is a big suburban job, developing three hundred new homes for the ‘Golden Meadows’ gated community. The site has been in development for a few months now, some homes are already finished and the first tenants are starting to move in. The homes are brand new, state-of-the-art, custom built to fit the needs of our wealthy customers.

  As I pull up to the house, I see a stick thin silicone lipped soccer mom unloading groceries from a giant SUV on the driveway. I grab my toolkit, hop out the pickup, introduce myself to plastic-zilla and head inside to fix the busted chair. It turns out the chair was just missing a few screws from the back, so the job only takes a few minutes. Soccer mom promptly forgets about her groceries and hovers over me while being overtly flirtatious and a little too handsy.

  “You’re that guy right?” She says in her velvet smoke voice as I make a hasty exit. Her eyes dart up and down my body. “They call you ‘Notorious’… I know you. You want to see the bed upstairs? I think that needs fixing too.”

  Her hand is on my arm, squeezing my bicep. She somehow manages to make her eyebrows raise. Most guys would probably go crazy to have a chance with a woman like this, but I’m not most guys. The giant rock on her finger tells me she’s married, and I swear there was a stroller on the driveway. Aside from that, she’s too ‘modified’ for my likings, and sleeping with a client seems plain stupid.

  “I appreciate the offer,” I say respectfully, “But I’m needed elsewhere.”

  “That’s a shame. I can tell you somewhere you’re very much needed.” She says w
hile walking behind me. I push past her and head outside to my pickup. She follows me with a thick lipped pout.

  It’s a little darker outside now, and the sky is turning orange. The street is alive with movement. Quite a few families are moving in today. Moving trucks are everywhere, and lawns are packed with people carrying boxes. As soon as I step onto the porch, I see that there is a stroller on the driveway, and there’s a baby girl inside. What kind of mother is this woman, leaving a child alone like that?

  “My offer still stands with the bed.” She says from behind me. “Just call at any…”

  She breaks off when I drop my toolbox into the lawn of brand new grass. I take off with a sprint to the stroller which is rolling down the steep driveway. Not only did this woman leave her child alone, she forgot to put the brakes on too. She seems to clock the runaway stroller and shouts out from behind me.

  “My baby! Help! Help!”

  The stroller picks up momentum fast and barrels down the driveway, heading down the smooth tarmac in a straight line, aimed perfectly at the road below it. My eyes jolt to the road and clock the moving truck that is barreling down the street. By the time the stroller hits the street, its going to be in the path of the truck, and the truck driver can’t see it from his vantage.

  I sprint as fast as I can down the driveway with my arm stretched out for the stroller. I’m catching up, but it’s just out of reach and I can’t get it in time. The driveway runs out as the stroller zooms onto the street. I’m inches away, and I don’t have to look left to see the giant truck on our left, which is inches away from crushing both me and the baby.

  Diving forward I wrap my arms around the stroller, pushing it out of the truck’s path. The stroller tips and I hurtle through the air out the way of the truck, I wrap my arms around the girl in one movement and shield her as I tumble across the street into a car on the other side. The truck skids to a halt, its wheels screaming smoke on the freshly poured tarmac.

  It seems that everyone on the street sees my act of ‘heroism’ and thirty seconds later I’m surrounded by a large group of people. I’ve got a few cuts and bruises from my dive, but there’s not a single scratch on the girl. Her mother runs down the driveway on her stiletto heels, her face a mess from tears. She has the nerve to scold the driver while clutching her baby through sobs, but everyone knows it wasn’t the drivers fault. Soccer mom retreats back inside her house, embarrassed and thoroughly hysterical.

  I try to make a quiet exit, but the crowd saw everything, and a few women start taking pictures when they recognized who I am. I clamber back into my pickup and head home to shower before my shift for Hunks in Limos. My phone is buzzing away the whole ride home as notifications and messages stream in, more so than usual. When I pull up to my drive, I flick through the screen, quickly getting the gist of the messages. One of the women at the scene has tagged me in a picture. In it I’m on the ground, holding the baby girl. The picture is captioned: ‘@NATE saves baby girl from freak accident. Hunk AND a hero! <3 <3 <3’.

  The picture has been shared a few thousand times, and I can’t even keep track of comments from my adoring public. Sighing, I lock my phone and head inside to shower. So much for keeping my heroics on the down low.

  *

  After I’m clean and changed, I drive over to the limo depot and change into my uniform. The owner of Hunks in Limos is Natalie, an entrepreneurial housewife who has a couple years on me. Natalie has a great mind for business, but she’s laid back and a good friend. I emerge from the changing room into the office and approach the desk where Natalie is sitting, typing away at a computer.

  “There’s the man of the hour. Notorious Nate Rogers… hunk AND a hero.” Natalie chuckles as she slides the limo keys and route notes over the desk toward me.

  “Christ, you heard about that too?”

  “I think every single woman on the east coast heard about it honey. You think I’m not going to keep tabs on my star driver?”

  I shrug. My ‘fame’ has been attracting extra business for Natalie’s limo service ever since she started plastering my face all over their social media page. Bridal parties now call in asking to be driven by me personally.

  “I just want to keep my head down and do my own thing. What we dealing with tonight?”

  Natalie talks me through the groups for tonight. A PR company is having an office party on a boat at the docks, and they’ve hired our company to take the girls to the party. It’s a simple enough job, and there’s enough runs to guarantee me some solid tips.

  Once I’m in the car, the rest of the evening passes by in a blur. Working the limo is easy and entertaining the girls is just stupid fun. For the most part I’m on my own so I just chill and listen to music. The bulk of my interaction happens at pick up and drop off. At these points I’m expected to woo the ladies. They’re usually drunk and get a kick out of flirtatious banter. The groups I’m escorting tonight didn’t request be my name, but more than a few recognize me and ask for pictures. Working for tips, I’m always happy to oblige. The pick ups and drops offs go easily enough. In total I have to make four trips, and the girls get a little more drunk with every journey.

  I’d normally be on my way to pick up other clients, but Natalie has asked that I park the limo by the boat tonight and stand outside ‘looking pretty’ as a promotional thing. As more guests file onto the boat, a lot of women come over to talk and get pictures. I hand out a good number of business cards to interested customers. It gets dark, but it stays warm out. It looks like people are having a great time on the yacht. Music is blaring, laughter bubbles up into the night. After a while I’m just stood there on the dock by myself. All the guests have arrived and my promotional opportunities seem to have trickled dry. I shoot Natalie a message telling her that I’m going to head back, and she fires a message back giving me the all clear. I’m about to climb in the car and head back when a solitary girl stumbles down the gangway from the yacht to the dock.

  “Hey, you! Wait up! Sexy driver man!”

  A leggy blonde stumbles toward me on impossibly tall heels. The first thing I notice is her figure. She’s wrapped in a silver cocktail dress which glitters in the dock light like diamonds. Her long slender legs stretch on forever, leading up to a body that is tight, toned and curvy in all the right places. My eyes carry on up to her slender jawline. Her lips are full and look wholly kissable. She’s got a tiny button nose and two blue eyes that are dressed with long black lashes. Her long blonde hair is parted down the middle and falls down her back in thick and luscious curls. My heart slams against my chest and my dick hardens. She might be the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life.

  “You’re gonna give me a ride Mr. Sexy driver man.”

  She stumbles over one of her heels and trips, falling straight into my arms. The scent of alcohol rises up to meet me.

  She’s drunk. Super drunk.

  “Take it easy there.” I say while holding her up. “I think you might have had a little too much to drink. Where are your friends?”

  “They’re inside.” She says, hiccuping. “I want to go home. You’re my driver right? Take me home.”

  It doesn’t take much to realize that this girl is clearly upset about something. She doesn’t strike me as the type that gets blind drunk very often, but right now, she is on the verge of unconsciousness. She’s mumbling, having trouble keeping her eyes open and the only thing keeping her standing is me.

  “You’re with the PR company?” I don’t remember seeing this girl in any of the groups I brought over here.

  “Yeah. I missed the limo because of… reasons—” She hiccups again. “But I’m here now and I want you to drive me home Mr. Sexy driver man.”

  I don’t have it in me to tell the girl that our services were only one way. Natalie double checked that the PR company made sure of this, and they promised her that taxis home had been arranged. I can’t see any taxis, and I don’t really feel comfortable letting this girl stumble off into the night alone in
search for one. This part of the docks is fairly cosmopolitan, but there’s no telling what lurks out there in the darkness.

  “Look, let me take you back onto the boat and I can help you find one of your friends. They can help you get home.”

  She struggles in my arms and closes her eyes while shaking her head with a grimace. “No, please. I can’t go back on that boat. You don’t understand—I just—I just can’t.” Her voice becomes raised and panicked, her breath turns into fast sobs.

  “Hey it’s okay.” I smooth my hand down her arm and try to calm her down. “Relax. We don’t have to go back on the boat if you don’t want to.” I have no idea what happened on there, but it’s clear from her reaction that the girl has had a crappy night and just wants to go home. It’s not usually wise to take girls into the limo unscheduled. All it would take is one false claim to ruin my life, but she doesn’t strike me as the type of girl that would do that.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Aurora heights.” She says while brushing tears from the corners of her eyes. Aurora heights is fine for me. It’s on the way back to the depot, anyway.

  “Climb in.”

  I walk the girl around to the passenger side of the limo so I can keep an eye on her. She looks cold so I grab my jacket out the trunk and throw it over her. She smiles and mumbles something resembling a ‘thanks’. Fifteen minutes later I’m pulling up outside her house. As I kill the engine, I realize she’s completely unconscious. All my attempts to wake her fail, so I end up having to carry her to the front door. Only then do I manage to wake her.

  “Hey. Girl. Wake up.”

  Her large blue eyes flutter open and her face lights up at seeing me. “You came home with me.” She mumbles.

  “Yeah… I gave you a lift. Have you got a key? We’re at your front door.”

  She looks around as if the comment surprises her and fishes a key out of her bag. “My name is Holly,” she mumbles while turning the key in the lock. I can’t help but chuckle. She’s drunk out of her mind, but she’s still trying her hardest to act sober.