After Hours Bundle (10 page)

Troy put his hands up, palm out. “Hey, don't get all mad at me. I know that you were different, okay, and I admire you for that. But the majority of girls have no interest in doing what you did.”

Peg took a deep breath and counted to three. “Let's just change the subject. Because if we don't, I might be tempted to shove those bread sticks where the sun don't shine, buddy.”

“God, I love it when women threaten me with violence. It makes me all horny,” Troy teased her. “What bread sticks?”

She glared at him. “The ones Benito's bringing to us right now. Hi, Benny!” She turned to the restaurateur with a sunny smile. “How are you?”

“Very well,
grazie.
You?” Benito placed a large napkin-covered basket in the center of their table. The aroma of hot bread wafted out, hot bread liberally spread with garlic butter. Peggy's mouth watered, and Benito beamed at her. He gestured toward Troy.

“I see you have dinner with our so-handsome landlord! Should help with the rent, eh?” He winked and laughed. “
Ciao,
Mr. Barrington. You like-a more wine?”

“Landlord?”
Peggy stared at Troy.

Troy shrugged and looked sheepish.

“He no tell you? He inherit whole strip mall from his uncle, Newton Baines. When, one month ago, you say?”

Troy nodded.

Peggy felt like an idiot. She'd called the cops on their landlord? “Why…”

“Benito, I'd sure love to take you up on that second glass of wine. How about one for the lady, too?”

“Right away, Signor B.!”

“I didn't tell you because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable,” Troy said quickly, after Benito left. “About the whole stalking thing, or like you had to go out with me since I owned the place.”

She shoved her embarrassment away. “I wouldn't have. I already told you, your money doesn't intimidate me.”

His mouth twisted. “Trust me, there's not as much money anymore. Three college funds, my sister's retirement fund and a bunch of property, and it takes a mint to maintain that.”

“Well,” she said coolly, finishing her glass of Cabernet, “After Hours must be quite the cash cow for you.” Oh, hell. How had she gotten back to cows and milk again?

Troy crunched down on a bread stick and didn't answer. She supposed her comment had been tacky. This evening was going all wrong, and she didn't know how to salvage it. Didn't know if she even wanted to, after his comments about girls and football.

She knew Troy spoke the truth about how many girls went on to play high school or college ball, but it irritated her that he saw no need to change the status quo. That he was fine with girls being cheerleaders, supporting their male football teams. It made her want to scream.

“Tell you what, Mr. Landlord,” she said. “We're gonna challenge you guys to a game toward the end of the season. And you are going to eat your words. Then you're gonna owe us the helmets
and
new uniforms. Not to mention pink cleats for the whole team.”

“Deal,” he said. “But can I ask you something? If you're so eager for your
ladies
to be taken seriously, why not lighten up on the pink?”

“Because I'm making a point. You're about to suggest that they shave their heads, maybe get nose rings and tattoos just to look tough, aren't you?”

“No.”

She ignored him. “Well, they're not going to do that. My girls are going to look as feminine as they please while kicking ass. They're going to pulverize the opposition after touching up their lipstick! I'm so
sick
of these stereotypes—that if women are good at sports, they've gotta look butch. Not true.”

“Okay, calm down,” Troy said, pulling the napkin-covered basket toward him. “I'd offer you a bread stick, but I'm afraid of what you might do with it.”

That got a smile out of her, but she nodded. “Damn straight.”

“You're a tough one, Peggy-Sue. I have a feeling that any moment now you'll challenge me to swords, pistols or bread sticks at dawn.” He grinned that irresistible grin of his, the one where both dimples flashed.

“On guard,” she said. “Watch out for the garlic.”

Benito appeared with their second glasses of wine and took their orders, chicken cacciatore for her and manicotti for Troy. They both chose the Caesar salad.

“A good thing if there's any kissing later,” Troy pointed out. “We'll
both
have the breath of camels.”

“Kissing?” She raised her glass to her lips and flooded her mouth with the tart Cabernet. “Aren't you presuming a lot?”

He avoided her gaze. “Yeah, I guess I am. And I shouldn't.”

She set her glass down. “Why did you ask me to dinner, Troy? Because I could swear that you had no intention of doing it. All that stuff about how you wanted to get to know me, and then when I called, you didn't seem pleased to hear from me.”

He swore under his breath and ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “Peggy, it's not that. Believe it or not, I was thrilled when you called.”

“Yeah, you were turning cartwheels. Come on, Troy!” Encouraged by the wine, she leaned forward and said in low tones, “Just go ahead and give me the speech about how it's not me, it's you, or tell the truth and say that since we had our sex-a-thon, you don't respect me anymore. Because I must be loose, and while you might screw that kind of woman, you sure don't want to date her—”

“Peggy—”

“You already got a bucket of free milk, so why tow around the cow—”

“Hey! That is complete bullshit—”

“Right, of course it is. Then give me your version.”

“Damn, woman! Look, I like you a lot. You're smart, you're beautiful, you're challenging and you turn me on like you wouldn't believe. But the thing is that you're also my nieces' coach. And when you called I was just thinking that it's not a good idea to take this any further. That's all.”

“Then why did you ask me to dinner?”

“Because I wanted to anyway, even though it's probably not smart. You're an amazing woman, Peggy. I like to look at you, I like to talk with you, and I damn sure like to touch you….”

Heat blossomed all over her skin, and she felt foolish. She'd just behaved like a raving lunatic, but Troy still sat opposite her instead of storming out. He had a perfectly reasonable explanation for his hesitance on the phone.

A waiter, not Benito this time, appeared at the table. “Cacciatore?”

She nodded, and he placed the dish before her.

“And manicotti for
signor.
”

Troy thanked him.

Dinner was served, and Peggy was intensely grateful to be able to concentrate on her food. What were she and Troy going to talk about next? They'd already covered sex. Might as well move on to the other taboo subjects: politics and religion.

Then he turned the tables on her. “So, Peggy-Sue. If you didn't think I really wanted to ask you out to dinner, then why did you accept my invitation?”

T
ROY ASKED THE QUESTION
partly to make her squirm after her tirade, and partly because he really wanted to know the answer.

Peggy avoided his gaze, finished chewing her bite of chicken cacciatore and pushed a piece of zucchini around her plate before she answered. “Because I wanted to see you again.”

He smiled. “And why would you want to see me?”

“Well, you're not the ugliest guy I've ever taken back to my apartment.”

“Thank you,” he said, hugely entertained. “And?”

“You left your lips at my place and I wanted to return them to you.”

“That's so generous. A man with no lips is a tragic sight. He'd never be able to kiss another woman.”

“Yeah, and I was worried about that.”

“So when are you going to give my lips back? Where are they, in your tote bag?”

“Nope.”

“Tucked in your bra?”

“Nope, not there, either.”

His smile widened. “Oh, lower down, then?”

Her white teeth flashed. “Yup. They're all puckered up and I'm sitting on them.”

Troy choked. “Are you trying to tell me that I'm kissing your freckled little ass?”

“It's the natural order of things, dude.”

“I am
so
going to enjoy punishing you for this later.”

She laughed. “Promises, promises. Maybe you'll get the chance, and maybe not. My aunt Thelma would say you got way too much free milk last night.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but I figure you'd get upset if I tried to pay you for it.”

Peggy threw her napkin at him.

“So that's not what Aunt Thelma is suggesting?”

“Not exactly.”

Benito came over to ask if their food was okay, and they assured him that it was delicious. He brought them each another glass of wine without asking.

“You trying to get us drunk, Benny?” Peggy asked.

“
Sì,
so you can take advantage of him.”

Troy could think of nothing he'd like better. His appetite right now was not for food, it was for Peggy. Forget scruples and ethics and all that…he wanted to reach across the table and pull her into his arms. He wanted her ripe, soft mouth; he wanted her full breasts filling his hands, her pink nipples thrusting against his palms.

He wanted her lips on his cock and her sweet ass riding him, urgency filling her as much as he did. He wanted to be sliding into her hot, wet body, smell her desire and hear her gasps and whimpers in his ear as he sent her into a frenzy.

Jesus. He had to get a hold of himself—they were sitting in a public restaurant, and he was so hard he could knock a plank off the table.

Opposite him, Peggy picked up a bread stick and met his eyes as she brought it to her mouth. Christ, she was reading him like a book. Her eyes slanted like a cat's, she darted out the tip of her tongue and licked at the end of the bread. She wrapped her lips around it and pulled gently. Then she slid it halfway into her mouth, caressing the bottom of the stick with her tongue.

“I'm so gonna make you pay for this,” Troy said hoarsely.

Peggy bit the end off the bread stick. “Mmm.”

That was when he felt something sliding against his crotch. Troy grabbed it and found that it was her small renegade foot.

Her eyes on his, her hand still wrapped around the bread stick, she flashed him a wicked smile. “Sporting wood, are we? Naughty, naughty.” She nudged his balls with her toe, and that was the last straw.

Troy gripped her ankle, forced her foot up and searched for some kind of revenge that was acceptable in the middle of a restaurant. He began to tickle the bottom of Peggy's foot.

She had just the reaction he was looking for. She pulled hard to get away from him, banging her knee on the underside of the table and making the candles jump.

Troy smiled blandly and kept tickling.

She squeaked and yanked again, unable to get away. “Let go!” she snapped, dropping the bread stick.

“Why, little Miss Perv, are you ticklish? What a shame for you…should have thought of that before you started this, huh?”

“I hate you!”

“I know. It bothers me a lot, as you can see.” He trailed his index finger from big toe to arch and then down to her heel, and she went nuts.

Peggy thrashed and gave a final mighty yank, just as he let go. She tumbled backward off the bench and onto the ceramic-tiled floor, still wearing only one shoe. He could see her blue satin underwear under the short jean skirt.

The other guests eyed her curiously, while Troy laughed so hard he almost blew the manicotti off his plate. “You okay?”

Peggy sat up just as Benito rushed over. “I'm fine, Benny. Thanks.” She pushed the hair out of her face and sent Troy a Death Stare. “Our landlord just seems to have this effect on women.”

 

T
HEY LEFT BY THE BACK DOOR
, and as soon as it had shut Troy pinned her against the stucco wall of the building and took her mouth. The little witch was making him crazy. He would have swallowed her whole if he could have.

His hands roamed her breasts freely, moving up to cup them under her stretchy top. She moaned. Damn if he didn't want to take her right against the wall, here. He slipped his fingers under her skirt and cupped her soft bottom, then dove lower and pulled aside the panties.

He fumbled at his fly, almost crazy with the desire to push inside her. He freed himself and pulled up her skirt.

She broke the kiss and pushed at his chest. “Someone might see us!”

“I find it so hard to care about that right now. And there's nothing back here but a five-foot fence and some sky.” He stroked the soft wet folds between her legs and watched as her head fell back, felt her thighs begin to tremble. She was beautiful. And he wanted her right now.

She whimpered and her breathing turned shallow, came fast. Troy lifted her and sighed with satisfaction as her legs went automatically around his waist. He positioned her so that he probed her slick entrance and then thrust up in a single, almost savage motion.

She made a soft sound of shock and pleasure, and he slid his hands down to her bottom to support her, doing his best not to bang her against the wall as he stroked in and out of her. He felt like a caveman, was acting like one, too, and didn't care. She didn't appear to mind, and that was all that mattered. But…he really, really didn't want to stop and fish out a condom. “Birth control?” he gasped.

“Pill,” she managed.

Relief filled him. “Let me see your breasts,” he said, sliding in to the hilt again and knocking the breath out of her. Her hair was tumbled over her shoulders, hanging in her eyes, which were half-closed with desire. She nodded, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

He bent forward and took it between his own, wanting to possess everything about her. He wanted her body and soul, completely at his mercy. “Let me see,” he said again once he'd released her mouth.

She pushed up her top, pulled down her bra so that her breasts poked impudently over it. Troy pulled out just enough so that he could bend his head to them, capture a nipple between his lips and suck hard. She cried out, he released it and drove into her. He worked her into a frenzy; she met his thrusts with the same urgency; until he hit some nerve deep inside of her. She gasped, arched her back and convulsed against him, shaking.

Just the sight of her, the feel of her losing control sent him over the edge, too. He pushed himself as far as he could into her sweetness and heat and spilled himself inside her, cursing softly.

He stood like that, embedded in her, until he realized how uncomfortable she must be, and gently lifted her off him, setting her on her feet. She automatically straightened her clothes, probably still fearing discovery, but not even a mosquito seemed to have witnessed their public indecency.

He noticed that her thighs were shaking and she could barely stand up. He gathered her in his arms, pulling her against him. He kissed her hair. “You okay? I'm sorry I was rough—I don't know what got into me.”

“I wanted it rough,” she said into his chest. She bit his nipple through his shirt, bit it hard.

“Ow!”

Peggy tipped back her head and smiled at him in the darkness. “Where are we going for round two, cowboy?”

 

S
HE RODE HIM
in the moonlight on his freshly screened back porch. His entire yard was surrounded by a virtually impenetrable ficus hedge, ten feet high. It was one of the few things he liked about the place, since it offered total privacy.

The scents of sex, new wood and citrusy lantana mingled with the night air. A touch of chlorine from the pool intruded, too.

But mostly what he smelled was her: a green-apple eau de parfum, a honey-coconut shampoo, a tinge of sporty deodorant and the rich, natural musk of her body's secret places.

He lifted her easily, in spite of her protests, and rolled her under him, pinning her with his big body. Then he ate every succulent inch of her, drawing her flesh into his mouth and savoring it.

Feeding at the juncture of her thighs, he reduced her to begging before he rolled her onto her stomach and settled his cock in the cleft of her buttocks. He slipped his fingers down, found her lips and parted them. Then he thrust into her once again, unbelievably turned on when she raised her bottom to meet him, taking her weight on her knees.

She raised her torso on her hands, too, and her heavy, lush breasts swung free. He reached around her waist for them and pleasured them as he stroked into her, pulled out, rammed himself in again until he thought he'd die from the sheer ecstasy of it.

He squeezed her breasts gently, toyed with the nipples until she arched her back, cried out and ground against the root of him, body trembling and convulsing around him. He thrust two, three more times—and then collapsed over her, murmuring her name.

 

T
HEY WENT SKINNY
-
DIPPING
afterward, bodies slipping through the cool, silky water. It soothed all the parts of them that were oversensitized, allayed some of the burning that Peggy felt between her legs. Troy's body looked even bigger submerged in the water, her own small and white beside him.

There was a shelf at the deep end of the pool, and he tugged her over to it, then into his lap. He folded his arms around her and they sat in the water listening to the night noises: the wind in the trees, the cicadas in song, the frogs' amphibian baritone.

This is as close as it gets to heaven on earth.

She snuggled back against his hard chest, feeling safe and protected and thoroughly sexed-out. She didn't think about the future much, just that Troy had been sweet to have concerns about dating his nieces' coach. That showed a rare, old-fashioned honor that you didn't see much these days….

She gazed inside at his house, which he laughingly referred to as the hovel. It wasn't one, but the ancient old-person furnishings like the avocado-green couch and the gold-and-orange-and-brown crocheted afghan hadn't been what she'd expected.

She'd thought his living room would be dominated by a massive wide-screen television, wall-to-wall carpet and a big, ugly black leather couch. Nothing could be further from the truth. The floors were scarred pine and the TV was a relic from the 1960s, tiny and sporting rabbit-ear antennae that made it look like a martian's suitcase.

The kitchen was something out of a time warp, too: old-fashioned cabinets with 1950s handles, an unspeakable stove and a refrigerator that she'd swear was powered by squirrels running on a wheel. The only “modern” addition was a gray plastic answering machine, its wires trailing from the wall-mounted phone.

The slick decorator-chosen furnishings of most pro ball players weren't in evidence. No bearskin or tiger-head rug. No trophy case. No revolving round bed under a mirror.

“Where are your things?” she asked him. “These must have come with the house.”

“Gorgeous, aren't they?” He chuckled. “All my stuff's in storage. I'll bring it in when I'm done remodeling the place. We'll be making a huge mess, knocking out walls and redoing the roofline. I'd rather trash the poor old geezer's furniture than mine—and I have to sit on something.”

“So we're both making a new start,” Peggy said. “You came down here from Gainesville, I came down here from Connecticut.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I never want to be financially dependent on the whims of a team owner or an athletic program again.”

She had to ask. “So did you leave a girlfriend behind?”

His arms stiffened. “No. No girlfriend. There were a few women who kept trying out for the position, though.”

She slid under his arms and under the water. When she surfaced, she shook water out of her eyes. Treading water, she said, “Trying out for the position?”