The Beastly Groom Read online

  “Ah.” Maia put a hand to her heart. “Thank you.” She lowered the mic and whispered, “Thanks for the plug—the studio will love that.” Bringing the mic back up to her full red lips, she threw her arm to the side. “Well, ladies, who can resist a heartthrob like this who is also a devoted father? Shall we start the bidding at fifty thousand?”

  Knox shifted his weight and prayed. I’m trying to be charitable, Lord. Please let this be over quick, and let the woman who buys me be kind and not interested in my face, my body, or any kind of stimulating conversation.

  Ema tried to catch a full breath after the second time she’d noticed Knox Sherman looking at her. Whew, the man could heat up a girl’s blood with one brooding look. What was he, a good-looking version of Edward Rochester? Well, Ema was no Jane Eyre, so she was safe from falling for the dark, passionate hero. She stifled a smile, doubting Knox had that much fire in him. Then again, the way he played football and how he’d just declared his devotion to his daughter … Hmm, maybe there was a passionate heart lingering under that hard, perfect-looking exterior.

  She hated all the longing sighs women were giving when he talked about his daughter and the few times he’d cracked a smile, which transformed his face from picture-perfect to carved by angels. Ema’s hands tightened around her bidding paddle. She was winning this bid and the rest of these women could back up a step.

  Maia, the princess sweetheart, started the bidding at fifty thousand. A blonde in a tight black dress threw her paddle up quickly. The bidding jumped in five-thousand-dollar increments as a gorgeous redhead and a petite brunette joined in. Ema waited, not wanting to run the bid up on herself.

  As the number reached a hundred and twenty thousand dollars, Maia took a breath and paused, grinning at Knox. “Whew. We’re starting this off right tonight. Just to give these women a little more incentive for their generous donation, what do you plan to do on this dream date?”

  “Whatever she wants,” Knox growled, his glower deepening.

  “Whatever?” Maia’s eyebrows arched up. Her question wasn’t an insinuation—she was too sweet and adorable for that—but Ema could tell a lot of the women took it that way.

  Knox’s brow furrowed. “Look,” he ground out, his glare sweeping the room and slowing down to focus on each of the women who’d dared to bid on him. “I’m only here for Scar and the vets. Can we please get this over with?”

  Maia took a small step backward.

  “Wow. He’s kind of scary,” an older lady next to Ema muttered.

  Ema didn’t think he was scary, just private. How was it going to go over when she bought him and told him why she’d done it? She straightened her back, and when Maia quietly resumed the bidding and said, “Who will give me one hundred and twenty-five thousand?” Ema waited for someone to respond. None of the former bidders moved. Ema smiled and lifted her paddle; Knox had done her sponsors a huge favor getting all grumpy and defensive.

  Knox’s gaze swung to her, and the fierceness in his eyes melted away as they connected from across the room. She tried to tell him with her gaze that she wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t take advantage of him, no matter what dumb thing she’d said earlier. He seemed to be studying her soul and she wasn’t sure if she came up short or not.

  “One hundred and thirty thousand?” Maia called out.

  The room was deathly silent. Knox’s fierce statement and glare had obviously scared the rest of the bidders away. That was fine by Ema, who’d been pinned by Knox’s unblinking gaze like a butterfly.

  Maia waited and waited, then said, “Going once, going twice … Sold! One hundred and twenty-five thousand to the beautiful lady in the blue dress.”

  Knox finally broke his concentration on Ema and stalked away from Maia and back to his seat. Riker Dylan, the new quarterback for the Titans, said something to him and laughed at his own comment. Knox flashed him a token smile, then reclined into his chair and focused on Ema again.

  The rest of the auction was a blur to her, and she seesawed between trying to avoid Knox’s gaze and allowing herself to give in and get tangled in this nonverbal communication with him. He was intense, and the lady next to her was on to something: there was something scary about him. But it wasn’t scary like he would hurt her physically—more that he could devastate her emotionally. She was in way over her head.

  “Oh, my, he seems to really like you,” the same older lady commented.

  “No. I think he’s mad I bought the date with him.”

  “Take a chaperone with you, dear.” The lady patted her hand. “I think that one’s a warrior who could devastate an innocent beauty like you.”

  Ema looked at the older lady. “I don’t think he’d hurt me.”

  The lady pursed her lips. “I hope you’re right, but there are other dangers. Any young beauty would be at a huge risk of falling for a handsome, broody man like that.”

  Ema couldn’t help but stiffly nod her agreement.

  Mike nudged her from the other side. “You okay, boss?”

  Ema forced a smile. “Never better. It’s all working out perfectly. I’ll talk to Knox after the auction and get us set up for the visit.”

  He nodded, but his dark blue eyes looked uneasy. Mike was always a little overprotective of her. He’d insinuated and badgered far too many times that they should take their relationship past working together, but Ema didn’t feel any connection to him, no matter how good-looking and competent he was.

  The auction finally wound down and people stood, milling around. Despite her brave words to Mike, Ema didn’t know if she dared talk to Knox right now or if she should simply let his agent work out the details. She had about decided to walk out of the conference room and let the agent deal with Knox’s backlash when she smelled his crisp Perry Ellis scent—it was a mix of bergamot, lavender, and amber that she had always been partial to. His large palm wrapped tenderly around her elbow. She glanced up and noticed how tightly clenched his jaw was, a muscle working furiously in it. A contrast to how gently he was touching her.

  “You and I need to talk,” he muttered.

  Ema nodded and allowed him to lead her away.

  “Chaperone,” the lady from dinner called to her back.

  Ema laughed and gave the lady a thumbs-up behind her back.

  “What was that?” Knox demanded.

  “That lady told me I shouldn’t go anywhere alone with you.”

  Knox’s cheek crinkled and it looked like he was going to smile, but he didn’t. “She’s a smart woman.”

  Ema didn’t know what to say to that.

  Knox took her out into the open corridor, down the hallway, and into an alcove leading into a vacant conference room. He stopped, released her elbow, and faced her. “Why did you buy me?”

  “Wow. Somebody’s direct.”

  He held up a hand. “I don’t play games, Ms. …”

  “Kahue,” she supplied, sounding it out: Ka-hoo-ee. Most mainlanders failed miserably at pronouncing Hawaiian names.

  “Ms. Kahue.” He said it correctly. “You already showed that you’re interested in coming home with me. You need to know right up front that no matter how beautiful you are, you will never stay the night with me or be invited into my home.”

  Ema’s eyes widened. He’d just called her beautiful, but it didn’t feel like a compliment. “I didn’t mean it like … that.”

  He arched a challenging eyebrow, obviously not believing her.

  “I’m the host of Live Like a Celeb.”

  His eyes didn’t give any indication that he knew what she was talking about.

  “We come into celebrities’ homes for a few days and then show the world their mansions and insights into their personal lives. We release within a week of filming, so you can send out up-to-date info to the world about any products or events you might want to share.”

  Her plug fell flat as his jaw clamped tight and his eyes darkened. “Claire sent you,” he muttered.

  She nodded. “Claire thoug
ht I could get through to you this way. Instead of a date with you, I’d like to bring my film crew in and interview you at your house.” When he swelled, looking ready to explode, she held up a hand. “I won’t stay for days like I usually do, just a few hours …” She paused, scrambling for that connection she’d felt earlier to him. What was he afraid of? It dawned on her, and she spit it out quick. “We can keep your daughter out of it.”

  He still said nothing, but his shoulders lowered a fraction.

  “Please, Knox …” She cleared her throat as his dark eyes seemed to thaw, but maybe that was wishful thinking. “I mean, Mr. Sherman. A candid glimpse would be a good thing for your career and your sponsors. Claire said you would agree.”

  He took a step closer and his warm breath brushed her forehead. She was tall, but this guy was a giant. “Claire is fired,” he growled.

  Ema’s eyes widened. She wrapped her hands around his forearms and got temporarily distracted by the breadth of them, the corded muscles that seemed to singe her hands as she held on to them.

  He glanced down at her right hand, then back at her, blinking but not moving from her touch.

  She struggled to remain focused on their conversation. “No. Please don’t fire Claire. We shouldn’t have tried to get you to agree this way.”

  “Dang straight you shouldn’t have.” His brow was so furrowed she could’ve driven a tractor through it.

  Ema released his forearms and gently rubbed at the furrow. “It’s okay, big guy.”

  He stared at her as if in a trance. His breath shortened and their eyes caught and held.

  Ema’s fingers stilled on his forehead, and then, without realizing what she was doing, she trailed her fingertips across his brow and down his temple until they reached the short hair of his beard and lingered there. She licked her lips and took a brave step forward. “Sun’s going down. Sun’s getting real low.”

  Knox’s hand darted up and grabbed hers, pulling it away from his face. “What are you doing?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. She had no clue what she was doing. “I, um … I was just trying to calm you down. Like, you know, Natasha does for the Hulk.”

  He gave a harsh laugh. “Well, I’m not the Hulk, and you and I have no connection.”

  Ema’s hand felt warm and safe encased in his, and sparks flew between them when he looked at her. Either he was lying about their lack of connection, or she was delusional. “That’s hurtful,” she muttered.

  For a moment his face softened and he gave her a genuine smile, but then his morose expression returned. He released her hand and took a huge step back. “You and Claire can take your schemes and try them on somebody else.”

  “Please.” She wasn’t above begging, and not just for her show; she really liked Claire and didn’t want the woman to lose a big-time client. “We weren’t trying to pull a scheme on you. The public is dying to know more about you. Claire is trying to be a good agent. I promise my show will paint you in a good light.”

  “You think I care what the public thinks of me?” he growled at her.

  It was Ema’s turn to step back. “I, well, most people care about what others think.”

  “I’m not most people, Ms. Kahue, and you’d better stand down.” His dark eyes were shooting full-on bullets at her, and she could see why he’d moved up the ranks in the military so quickly. “If I see you anywhere near my home or my daughter, I won’t leave you to the mercy of my overly qualified security team. I will personally throw you off my property and get a restraining order against you.”

  Ema sucked in a quick breath. He was vicious and more than a little intimidating right now. “Yes sir, sergeant, sir,” she said sarcastically, falling back on the only weapon she knew.

  “You’ve been researching me?” He stepped close again, and Ema was suddenly terrified. He was every bit as scary as that older lady had insinuated.

  “Y-yes. I always do my research before I start a job.”

  He bent closer to her, and her heart thudded quicker and quicker. She wasn’t physically afraid of him, though he could easily overpower her. She sensed he was honorable toward women, but there was something scary yet alluring about him.

  “You’re done researching me,” he said. “My private life is not up for dissection and film crews. I hope for your sake, Ms. Kahue, that we never see each other again.”

  With that, he spun and strode down the hallway.

  “You still owe me a date,” Ema called to his back, proud of herself for her bravery. Or maybe it was sheer stupidity. She wasn’t scared of what he could physically do, despite his hulking frame, but getting close to him was an insurmountable obstacle, like hoping to climb Everest without any help from the Sherpas.

  He turned slowly and met her gaze. Then he stalked back toward her. Each slow step was like a funeral march—Ema’s funeral. She gulped, but the lump in her throat didn’t leave. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. Ema stood her ground, even though she wanted to throw a white flag at him, yell that he’d won, and sprint the other direction.

  He stopped half a foot away from her and his gaze pinned her in place. “You want your date?” he growled.

  Ema’s hands clenched into fists, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of backing away or diverting her eyes like she wanted to do. “Yes, I do. I purchased it. If …” She lifted an eyebrow. “You can promise to be a gentleman.”

  His eyes widened and he blinked at her. “I may not be some charmer, but I treat ladies with respect, Miss Kahue.”

  She nodded and hoped he couldn’t see she was trembling from head to toe. He wasn’t going to rip her apart like he would the quarterback of an opposing team. He inhaled and released a few powerful breaths through his nose, and she wondered if he was attempting to calm himself or coming up with a way to slip out of the date.

  “But do you keep your word to a lady?” she asked, clenching her hands tightly together.

  His eyes swept over her and the muscles in his neck bunched. Finally, he muttered so quietly she barely heard him: “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

  Ema stood tall and tried to act professional. “Where shall we meet?”

  “Los Tios.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. The Mexican restaurant was in the historic section of Fort Worth and was owned by Ace Sanchez’s family. Ace was a legend with the Titans and the restaurant was extremely popular, especially since Ace’s sister had married Rennen Bradley, an all-star running back for the Titans who was known as The Ghost. “I love the food there, but it’s not a very intimate setting, so you may have a different idea.”

  His brow lowered again and he leaned closer to her. He smelled amazing, from his cologne to the breath mint he must’ve popped in after dinner. “If you want intimacy, you’ve got the wrong guy.”

  Fury raced through her and she tilted her chin up. He thought he was so big and bad, but she wasn’t going to retreat. “I wasn’t hoping for intimacy, Mr. Sherman. I simply know you’re a private person, and Los Tios is a hot spot for paparazzi and cleat chasers.”

  “I appreciate your consideration.” He rolled his eyes. “But we’ll be fine in a back booth.”

  She licked her lips and bravely said, “There won’t be much room for my camera crew.”

  His face darkened again and his eyes become colder than ever. “You bring your camera crew and I’ll be gone before the chips and salsa arrive.”

  Ema’s hand flew to her neck then in a protective gesture, and she took a steadying breath. Why did he have to be so intimidating? She steeled her spine. She was tougher than this Beast realized. She could climb Everest without Sherpas or ice picks. “You promised to keep your word to a lady,” she reminded him.

  “You wanted a date; that’s all you’ll get. I’ll see you tomorrow night at seven.” With that, he turned and stalked away.

  Ema watched him go, her heart slamming against her chest. Did she really want to spend one more second around that man? Yet, at moments tonight, she�
�d caught a glimpse of something in his eyes. He’d been wounded deeply and all the anger and coldness were simply barriers to keep his heart, and his daughter, safe. She wished he would let her into his private world.

  She rolled her eyes at herself. As if he was going to share his secrets with her. Her career alone would keep him from telling her anything of depth. He liked his privacy. The whole idea of spotlighting him for her show was stupidity, overambitious, career suicide, and a whole slew of other bad ideas.

  “Well, that went well,” Mike said from behind her.

  “How long have you been there?” she asked without turning to him. She couldn’t take her eyes off the retreating figure of the man who looked and acted like the beast they claimed he was on the football field, but she sensed it wasn’t just his anger at having his privacy threatened. He was protecting his daughter. Had something happened to the little girl that wasn’t public knowledge? She’d seen overprotective fathers, but Knox took it to a whole new level.

  “I was hiding around the corner. Didn’t want to get in that guy’s way.”

  “He wouldn’t have hurt you.” Ema hugged herself for warmth, suddenly depressed at the thought of never being close to Knox again. That was silly. She didn’t even know him.

  “Says you. He wouldn’t hurt a female, I’m sure. As angry as he was just now, he would’ve pummeled me.”

  Ema wondered if Mike was right. How much anger was built up inside of Knox Sherman? No wonder he was so effective at sacking quarterbacks.

  Chapter Two

  Knox’s phone rang as he strode through his bedroom suite toward the hallway. He yanked his cell out, hoping he could either ignore the call or make it quick. Shelby wanted to ride horses before her quiet time this afternoon and his workout had taken longer than usual this morning. It was the off-season, but he still pushed himself extra hard. He loved being the best in the league at his position.