Page 92 of Tempting the Player
God hates me. That was it. Well, she was the maid of honor, and any of the other Gamble brothers would’ve been fine as best man. But oh no, it had to be Chase Gamble. He was her older brother’s best friend, confidante, homie, whatever—and otherwise known as the bane of Madison’s existence.
“Staring at the invitation isn’t going to change a damn thing.” Bridget Rodgers leaned a plump hip against Madison’s desk, drawing her attention. Her assistant was a study in how a fashion disaster on some people could work for others. Today, Bridget wore a fuchsia pencil skirt paired with a purple peasant shirt sporting large polka dots. A black scarf and leather boots completed the look. Mysteriously, she actually looked good in what should have been a clown’s costume. Bridget was bold.
Madison sighed. She could use a little bold right now. “I don’t think I can deal with this.”
“Look, you should’ve taken my advice and invited Derek from the history department. At least then you’d be having wild monkey sex instead of lusting after your brother’s best friend during the whole wedding. A man who’s already rejected you once, might I add.”
Bridget had a point. She was crafty like that. “What am I going to do?” Madison asked, glancing out the window of her office. All she could see was the steel and cement of the museum next to her building—the Smithsonian, which always made her chest swell with pride. She’d worked hard to become one of the privileged few who got to work for this amazing cultural institution.
Bridget leaned down into Madison’s face and caught her attention again. “You’re going to put on your big-girl panties and deal with it. You may have a secret, undying love for Chase Gamble, but if he hasn’t recognized your awesomeness by now the man is clearly mental and so not worth this angst.”
“I know, I know,” Madison said. “But he’s just so… infuriating.”
“Most men are, sweetie.” Bridget winked.
“It’s fine he’s not interested in me. Disappointing, but I can deal. And I can even forgive him for changing his mind the one time we almost hooked up. Well, sort of.” She laughed without much humor and stared at her best friend, willing her to understand. “But he’s constantly poking at me, you know? Teasing me in front of my family, treating me like a kid sister, when all I want to do is shake him…and get him naked.”
“It’s just one weekend—how bad can it be?” Bridget asked. She was trying to add the voice of reason to what was going to be the worst weekend of Madison’s life.
Dropping the invitation on her desk, she leaned back in her chair and sighed, idly contemplating calling the history department.
Ever since she could remember, there was Chase. Always Chase. They’d grown up on the same block in the suburbs of DC. Her brother and Chase had been inseparable since, well, forever. Which meant, being the baby of the family, Madison had nothing better to do as a kid than follow behind Mitch and his friends.
She’d idolized Chase. It was hard not to with his masculine beauty, easy candor, and downright illegal dimples. As a boy and into adulthood, Chase had a fierce protective streak that could make a girl’s heart do a little flutter in her chest. He was the type of guy who would rip off his shirt in the middle of Snowmageddon and give it to a homeless person on the street, but there’d always been this raw, dangerous edge to him.
Chase wasn’t the kind of guy anyone messed with.
Once in high school, a boy had gotten a little too frisky with her in his car parked outside her parents’ house, and Chase had just been leaving when he’d heard her muffled protests as a hand went somewhere she didn’t want.
After that run-in, the guy didn’t walk right for several weeks.
And the occurrence pretty much cemented a puppy love that just wouldn’t die.
Everyone and their mother had known she had it bad for Chase throughout high school and the first two years of college. Christ, it was a well-known theory that wherever Mitch and Chase were, Madison wasn’t too far behind. Sad as it was—and it was pathetic—she had attended the University of Maryland because they had.
Everything changed her junior year in college, the night he’d opened his first nightclub.
After that…she did everything in her power to avoid Chase. Not that it worked or anything.
One would think in a city as overpopulated as Washington, DC, she’d be able to avoid the rat bastard, but oh no, the laws of nature were a cruel, unrelenting bitch.
Chase was everywhere. She’d rented one of the smaller apartments on the second floor of the Gallery, and weeks later, he’d bought one of the penthouses on the top floor. Even on family holidays, he and his brothers had seats at her parents’ dinner table, since they treated the Gambles like a flock of sons.
Working out at the gym, he’d be there pumping iron early in the morning while she did her daily pretend-run on the elliptical. And when he got on the treadmill? Oh, wow, who knew calf muscles could be so sexy? It wasn’t her fault that she stared and maybe drooled on herself a little. Had maybe fallen off the elliptical a time or two when he’d lifted his shirt, revealing abs that looked like someone stuck paint rollers under his skin for crying out loud, and wiped his brow with the hem.
