A Better Man (13 page)

Behind her back she kept her grip on the doorknob that left the door partially open. Still, he received the mes
sage.

We're done
here.

He'd put her in an uncomfortable place when all he really wanted was to find out more about
her.

“I promise to see what I can do about talking to her friends, but the soonest I'll be able to contact anyone probably won't be until Monday,” she said. “And that's only if I can get in touch with anyone. A lot of people go on spring break vacation. I'll call you as soon as I know anyth
ing.”

Though Jordan played a game for a living, he didn't play games in real life. He was a man who usually knew what he wanted and always did his best to get it. For the first time he was unsure. But right now, he thought maybe he wanted
Lucy.

He walked up to her, placed his hand on the open door beside her head, and pushed the door closed. She shuffled backward until she became trapped between two unmovable objects—­him and the
door.

“Not good enough.” With his skates on, he was the epitome of in control. With Lucy he was ready to throw caution into the
fire.

“What do you mean, ‘not good enough'?” Annoyance puffed from between her moist, rosy lips. Fists slammed down on her shapely hips, and a furrow tightened the skin between her rich, brown eyes. “That's all there is. I'll find out and I'll call
you.”

“Don't you see, Lucy? I don't want just a call.” He touched the side of her face. Trailed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “I want m
ore.”

When her eyes widened he was tempted to just lean in and give her another toe-­curling kiss. “Go out with me tomorrow ni
ght.”

“W
hat?”

“You know . . . you, me, a movie, a box of popcorn. A d
ate.”

“You're asking me out on a d
ate.”

A statement, he noticed. Not a question. As if she couldn't comprehend the meaning. And that pissed him off. Lucy should be taken out often, shown off, and treated
well.

“I believe that's what I just asked. So are you game? Or do I have to start cluck
ing?”

“Cluck
ing?”

“Because you're too chicken to say
yes.”

“I'm not chic
ken.”

“Perfect.” Fighting a smile, he eased his way into the open space and stepped out onto her porch. “Then I'll pick you up at seven o'clock tomorrow ni
ght.”

“Se
ven?”

“Seven.” It didn't take much to pull her against him. She didn't fight it or the brief kiss he gave her to erase the confusion from her face. “Good night, Lucy.” Then he closed the door and said from the other side, “Lock the door so I don't come back in th
ere.”

Behind him the deadbolt slammed into p
lace.

He didn't know if she'd take him seriously. Didn't know if she'd actually be ready at seven, or if she'd dodge him and wouldn't even be home. Even with all those negatives hanging over his head, as he strolled to the SUV, he found himself whistling because he had a good feeling she'd be there. And when he felt this good he knew there was always a chance the evening would turn out to be everything he wa
nted.

Then again, there was every chance it would be a complete disa
ster.

L
ucy threw the deadbolt. Then, unable to stop herself, she marched over to the window, pulled back the curtain, and watched Jordan walk toward the black SUV. When he opened the driver's door, it was as if he sensed her watching. He turned, caught her red-­handed, and flashed her a smile. She let go of the curtain and huffed out a g
rowl.

Ziggy lifted his big head and looked at her like she'd gone off the deep
end.

“He drives me crazy, Z
igs.”

Her dog responded with a little w
hine.

“Seriously over-­the-­edge crazy.” She peeked out the window again but he was gone. “I don't know what he expects from
me.”

Throughout her entire life she'd left spontaneity at the door. With the exception of her rotten marriage, everything in her control had been planned to within an inch of her
life.

Jordan knocked her carefully laid plans and her logical thinking a
skew.

She'd always made valiant efforts to blend into the background and remain as invisible as she could. To keep her head on straight and move forward through life as quietly and as unassumingly as possible. She didn't live with high expectations. And she no longer dared to d
ream.

Big, flashy dreams were dangerous. For her, happy and content were en
ough.

Jordan, on the other hand, didn't ask. He took. He didn't back off. Didn't blink. He just forged ahead like a steamroller. Granted, his forcefulness was nonthreatening. But still, like those dreams, he was dange
rous.

When he'd had her trapped between him and the door, heat had radiated off him that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. It had been pure sexual masculinity and she'd wanted to lose herself in him. Wrap herself around him and climb him like a tree. Unwrap him like a present and touch all those hard, sexy muscles with her hands and, dear God, her tongue. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she desired a
man.

Sweet baby J
esus.

One thing was cer
tain.

Locking the deadbolt and securing herself inside her home was going to be a lot easier than securing her heart against Jordan Kin
cade.

O
n the way home, Jordan put his cell phone to good use. By the time he was driving up the hill toward his parents' house he'd put things for his date with Lucy in motion. She might be expecting popcorn and a movie, but Jordan wanted to give her much more. And if all went according to plan, she'd be completely surpr
ised.

He knew it was late, but he'd spotted Nicole's little Sonata in the driveway and he didn't want to miss an opportunity to let her know that, despite her ambivalence or wishful thinking, he was still
here.

A light drizzle beaded on the sleeves of his jacket as he tested the front door to the house and found it unlocked. For the first time in years he let himself in without feeling like he needed an invita
tion.

With the exception of the glow from the big-­screen TV in the family room, the house was dark and quiet. Before he headed in that direction, he glanced toward the stairs and wondered why his teenage sister would be locked up in her room on a Friday n
ight.

Or maybe she wa
sn't.

Maybe she'd gone out with friends and had left her car there. He hadn't considered that before he'd come in
side.

Trying to cope with the eerie absence of his mom and dad, he kept walking. In the family room he found Declan stretched out on the sofa, legs crossed at the ankles, with a huge bowl of popcorn balanced on his flat stomach. Surprisingly Mr. GQ was dressed in a T-­shirt and cargo shorts. On the big-­screen TV, Joe Fox—­aka Tom Hanks—­was writing an e-­mail to Shop
girl.

“I always knew you were a sentimental
sap.”

Declan jerked upright and popcorn flew from the bowl. He turned to Jordan with a murderous glare. “What the hell are you doing h
ere?”

Jordan chuckled. “Hoping to stay hidden long enough to see you weep into your hankie. Guess my cover's blown
now.”

“Great.” Dec started picking up the popcorn kernels and tossing them back in the bowl. “Now I'll have to make a new ba
tch.”

“Dude. I just caught you watching
You've Got Mail
without a girl in the room and you're worried about the popc
orn?”

“I had a girl on the phone while I was watching. Does that co
unt?”

“Depends on the g
irl.”

“Brooke Hasti
ngs.”

“Your assist
ant?”

Dec no
dded.

“Were you having phone
sex?”

“With
Bro
oke
?”

“No, with the neighbor down the road.” Jordan sighed. “Yes with Bro
oke.”

“She's my assist
ant.”

“And hot as h
ell.”

The brief silence told Jordan that his brother hadn't considered his assistant in that way. But he damn well should. The long-­legged blonde had a beach bod, brains that went on all day, and a bubbly personality that said she could easily be a kid sister, best friend, mom of the year, or the hottest thing between the sheets ever. She was every man's dream. Except apparently Decl
an's.

Stupid
ass.

“Jesus, Dec.” Jordan planted himself in the recliner. “Don't tell me you're one of those all work and no play kind of g
uys.”

“I've been building a busin
ess.”

“Brother, it's built. You're a success. Time to have a little fun. When was the last time you went out and had a good t
ime?”

“Mmmm . . .” In deep thought, his brother studied the ceiling. “Maybe a charity event to fund a new hospital wing or someth
ing.”

“You don't k
now?”

“I know I banged a hot redhead that night when I went h
ome.”

“Well, at least you're getting l
aid.”

“Y
eah.”

Thanks to his twin, Jordan felt a headache coming on. “Exactly how the hell long ago was this charity ev
ent?”

“Octo
ber?”

“You asking or tell
ing?”

“No.” Dec snapped his fingers. “Novem
ber.”

“So what you're saying is you haven't gotten laid for at least six months, you're not having phone sex with your hot assistant, and you're watching a rom-­com.
Al
one.
”

“You make it sound so
bad.”

Jordan laughed because there was nothing else to do in the situation. “Brother? We've got to take care of this situation pro
nto.”

“I can find my own wo
men.”

“Prove it.” Jordan scooted to the edge of the recliner. “Pick up your phone right now and call Brooke b
ack.”

“Haven't you ever heard mixing business and pleasure is a bad idea?” Declan set the popcorn bowl on the coffee t
able.

“Then if you have to choose, take pleasure. Unless you like going to bed alone and your morning wood becomes a sad little man because he knows he's going to be lonely ag
ain.”

“Watch how you use the word
little
, jackass.” Declan glared. “And if you're such hot stuff, when was the last time you got l
aid?”

Jordan didn't hesitate. “Two weeks
ago.”

“Dry spell huh?” His brother leaned back on the sofa. “Guess everything going on kind of takes away the m
ood.”

“I didn't say I wasn't in the mood.” Hell, if Lucy gave him a green light he'd be all over that in a matter of sec
onds.

“Spare me the deta
ils.”

Jordan laughed. God it was fun joking around and giving his brothers hell a
gain.

Dec ran a hand through his short dark hair. “When are you heading back to North Carol
ina?”

“No plans to go b
ack.”

“Seriously? Your team is working their way toward the playoffs and you have no plans to go back? Are you fucking cr
azy?”

“No crazier than you for not noticing your hot assist
ant.”

“Tou
ché.”

“I made a promise to the family.” Jordan shrugged. “I intend to keep
it.”

“Everyone understands you have a career and responsibilities that go with it.” Declan hit the
MUTE
button on the remote when a commercial for toilet bowl cleaner came on. “I'm dedicated to working things out here too. Hasn't your coach or your agent been wondering when you're coming b
ack?”

“So far they've been polite and understanding. But Coach left a voice mail tonight and he doesn't sound so patient anymore. Guess the team lost ag
ain.”

“You haven't been watching the ga
mes?”

“They're not all televi
sed.”

“They want you back so they must think you're the man to save the t
eam.”

“I'm no savior. I just have a hell of a right hook and a mean slap s
hot.”

“And don't forget you're an expert at warming the bench in the penalty box.” Dec's smile vanished. “I'm serious, Jordy. The family will underst
and.”

“Our sister won't.” He glanced over his shoulder at the darkened staircase. “Which reminds me, is the baby dragon h
ome?”

Dec nodded. “Upstairs with her headphones on and texting so fast I'm sure her fingertips are
raw.”

“Gotcha.” Jordan stood. “I'll be b
ack.”

“Okay, Arnold.” Dec hit the
MUTE
button again, and the room filled with the fiesta party sounds of a cruise line commer
cial.