Game On (14 page)

“You have access to my medical file. You know I’m clean,” he said as he continued to finger her while he pushed off the sheet with the other hand. She moaned as she caught sight of him. Biting her lip, she pushed his hand away. But instead of retreating, she crawled across his thighs, straddling him, the lacy fabric of her panties tickling his skin. She smiled wickedly as she ran her hands down his chest, trailing her nails across his nipples. His breath came out in a hiss as she bent her head to kiss his belly. A cascade of damp hair hid her face as she moved lower. Before he realized what she intended, she’d taken him in her mouth. He tangled his hands in her hair as he pressed his head back against the pillows. She ran her tongue along the length of him and his breath hitched as she wrapped her lips around him more fully. Cool hair brushed the hot skin of his belly as her round bottom bopped rhythmically.

“Carly!” he bellowed, pulling her up by her hair so she lay across his chest. He was close to the edge. With another sinful smile she wrapped a warm hand firmly around his cock. She tongued his nipple as she stroked him to climax with her hand. He swore as he came in a rush.

She busied herself by using the damp towel to wipe him off.

“Get some sleep.” She brushed a kiss over both his closed eyelids as she pulled the sheet over skin that still burned from her touch, tucking him in like a little boy. He watched her retreating backside through half-closed eyelids, but he couldn’t summon the strength to call her back. She disappeared into the bathroom as he drifted off into oblivion.

When he awoke several hours later, Beckett sat staring at him, a stuffed cow clenched in his jaw. At the first crack of Shane’s eyelids, the dog’s tail began to wag frantically, the cow mooing as the dog bit down on it in his excitement. Beckett squirmed closer as Shane became more alert.

“Okay, buddy, I’m getting up,” he said as the dog dropped the cow and tried to scramble up on the bed. “Off, you beast! She may love you now, but I guarantee she’ll never let you come over again if you get dog hair all over her bed. What time is it anyway?” he asked as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. Shane absently patted the dog’s head as he looked at the clock: eleven fifteen. With a groan, he stretched, feeling rested for the first time in days. He glanced at the bedside table and saw the note Carly had left him.

Beckett’s been fed and put out. Fresh towels are in the bathroom. Coffee’s in the carafe in the kitchen. Lock up when you leave. C

Shane smiled as he picked up the key chain. It was a miniature beach sandal with
Bethany Beach
written in rainbow ink on the heel. Most likely a gift from one of her nieces, he thought, because it didn’t fit Carly’s personality at all. But after last night, he wasn’t really sure what her personality was: the straight-arrow conservative administrative assistant or the sex kitten in the white-hot lingerie. One thing he was sure of: one night with Carly March wasn’t enough. Trying not to delve into that too much, he stumbled off to the shower.

Twelve

Carly squinted at the bright sunlight as she and
Donovan stepped out of the courthouse. It had taken the better part of the day, but they had accomplished their mission.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Donovan said as he slid on his sunglasses. Carly dug in her purse to pull out her own.

“It’s just a piece of paper, Donovan,” she said as they climbed down the steps onto West Pratt Street and walked the half block to the parking garage. The sun was warm on her skin, but she still felt chilled. Three hours in the air-conditioned courthouse cooling her heels waiting for the judge had left her a bit frosty. “I’m not sure what kind of deterrent it will be.” The judge’s pointed questions and insinuations that she was somehow asking for Joel’s attention hadn’t helped her demeanor.

“I know that was rough, Carly. But a restraining order gives you a little more leverage if he does anything else.” Donovan’s words sent a shiver up her spine. He gently gripped her upper arm as he led her to his BMW. “The judge’s order covers the training facility and your neighborhood. He can’t leave you any more flowers or gifts at home or at work. All he needs to do is send you another unwanted love note via email and he is in violation of the restraining order. Because you went to the trouble of getting the RTO, anything he does that might otherwise have been considered a misdemeanor can now be treated as a felony.”

“It wasn’t a love note,” she grumbled.

He opened the car door and she slid in, the sun-baked leather warming her legs. Despite it being nearly ninety degrees outside, she couldn’t seem to get warm. Donovan walked around the car and took off his suit jacket before climbing behind the wheel. The German engine purred to life when he turned the key and a blast of air flew from the air vents. Carly shivered again. Wordlessly, he adjusted the vents away from her.

“What if the restraining order has the opposite effect?” she asked, staring out the windshield at a family of tourists making their way from the aquarium, a stuffed whale under the father’s arm as he held a sleeping toddler with the other. “What if it makes him angry and he does something else? I mean, he was pretty spaced out at the gala.” She finally braved a look at Donovan. His rich brown eyes softened as he took her hand in his.

“Not gonna happen, Carly.” His voice was like velvet as he stroked her palm. “His grandfather won’t be pleased when he finds out about the restraining order and he’ll probably have him in rehab tonight. I’m sorry you had to put up with all the humiliating questions from the judge, but the laws against stalkers aren’t always that black and white. Like I said before, you did the right thing. Everything will be fine now.”

Carly tried to give him a reassuring smile as he released her hand and pulled out of the parking lot. But she didn’t feel reassured. And deep down, she didn’t think Donovan did, either. She had the feeling he was as frustrated as she was, he was just a lot better at maintaining his cool. Carly also knew he’d never let anything happen to her. He was playing it by the book with the law, but she was aware of the efforts he’d put in place at the team’s training facility and within her neighborhood. The security guards at both places had received a severe briefing from Donovan earlier in the day.

Leaning her head against the seat’s headrest, she closed her eyes as Donovan maneuvered through the late-day traffic mix of commuters leaving the city and tourists on foot. She knew he was right; she needed to get the restraining order, but it didn’t make her feel any better. The laws surrounding stalkers were loose and open to interpretation by the presiding judge. Aside from the assault in the hotel, Joel hadn’t done anything she could prove constituted stalking. Yes, he’d been leaving her red roses for weeks now. On her desk chair, her doorstep, the windshield of her car. No note ever accompanied the flowers, but she knew they were from him. He’d always ask her if she’d found them, usually in front of another reporter or insignificant Blaze personnel. The roses had stopped appearing since the altercation with Donovan and Shane outside her home several weeks ago.

There had also been that time Joel followed her home, but was he a stalker? His grandfather had downplayed the incident in the hotel as a by-product of his drinking problem—a result of a troubled youth. Maybe his grandfather was right; he wasn’t dangerous, just a pest Carly should feel sorry for.

Only, she didn’t feel sorry for him. What she felt was fear.

It was a feeling she wasn’t familiar with. As a child, her mother had put her in harm’s way numerous times. But Carly had never felt frightened. Perhaps she’d been too young to know she should be scared. Later in life, after the death of her mother and then her grandmother, she’d felt lonely and apprehensive, but never true fear. Life had toughened her up. Why, then, was she succumbing to fear now? The email last night hadn’t been overly threatening, but it had set off alarm bells. She said a silent prayer of thanks for Shane’s unexpected arrival on her front porch the night before.

At least thoughts of the previous night were helping to warm her up. She told herself that she should be ashamed of using Shane that way. But after Joel’s email, she hadn’t wanted to be alone and he was a means to an end. Of course, she knew she was lying to herself. Carly wanted him as much as he wanted her. Had they not been interrupted several nights before by the news of Bruce Devlin’s death, their fling would have been over and done with. So what if last night he was using her to forget the tragedy of his father’s death? She’d been able to offer him comfort in the only way he would accept it. What she had with Shane last night was just that—sex. Incredible sex, but nothing more. It was what they both had agreed to.

Besides, Shane wasn’t happily-ever-after material. But there was nothing wrong with enjoying herself while she waited for Mr. Right. Except, of course, for the fact that it really didn’t bode well to be fooling around with a football player. Hadn’t she learned her lesson where professional athletes were concerned? Carly let out a soft sigh. Her wicked side would have to be happy with one night of hot, steamy sex for now. She couldn’t risk her job—or her heart—with anything more.

Donovan interrupted her thoughts. “I have to let Hank know about the RTO, but I’ll let you handle telling the coach.”

“I’m not telling Matt!” Carly whipped around to face him as they pulled into the parking lot of the training facility. “He’s got too much on his plate right now. My sister is finally feeling better and they’re leaving for a family vacation next week. I don’t want them worrying about me. Besides, you said everything will be fine now. You did mean that, right?”

His lips were set in a grim line as he jerked the car into his assigned parking space at Blaze headquarters. He turned a stern glare on her, which probably worked when he as in the military but was having little effect on Carly. She didn’t flinch, only raising an eyebrow at him. Donovan let out a slow hiss before speaking. “I guess it’s your call. But when he comes at me with a baseball bat, I’m hiding behind you. Got it, gorgeous?”

She manufactured a bright smile. “You’d better be glad this is a football team, then,” she teased. “Thank you, Donovan. For understanding. And for your help today.” Leaning across the center console, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“It was nothing. I’m just doin’ my job.” But she swore he blushed underneath his dark skin as an aw-shucks grin lit up his face. The chill finally left her body as the late afternoon sun bathed the parking lot with warmth.

* * *

“Did you know that more than one million women
are victims of stalking every year?” Asia asked. The two women were walking to Carly’s office after Asia intercepted Carly and Donovan when they returned from the courthouse. Carly picked up on the meaningful glance the two exchanged, but she couldn’t get a word in edgewise to interrogate Asia on it. Frankly, she’d rather discuss what was going on between the team’s media rep and its security chief than listen to statistics on stalking.

She’d had enough for one day.

Unfortunately, Asia obviously spent the day surfing the Web and wasn’t going to be denied her press briefing. Trying to tune her out, Carly flipped on the lights of her office, stopping short when she spotted the rose on her desk chair. But this wasn’t Joel’s usual red rose. It was a beautiful Oceana rose, a brilliant peach color, with baby’s breath wrapped in the plastic. Asia stopped in midsentence, following Carly’s gaze.

Spying the rose, Asia reached for the phone. “I’m calling Don,” she said.

“No!” Carly said. Something was different. Forcing her feet to move forward, she picked up the delicate blossom with shaky hands. A note lay beneath it. When she saw her key chain lying beside it, her body relaxed and she allowed a smile to spread over her face. “It’s okay, Asia. This isn’t from Joel.”

“You have multiple stalkers?”

Laughing now, she read through the note.

Dinner tonight. My place. S.

He’d signed it with a big
S
similar to the way she’d signed her note to him this morning.

“Nope, just a friend.” She lifted the rose to her nose and sniffed, hoping to restore her equilibrium.

Asia crossed her arms across her chest. “Spill it, girlfriend.”

“Sure, when you tell me everything that’s going on between you and Donovan,” Carly said, aiming a smug smile at her friend.

Asia turned on her heel and left as quickly as her cane could carry her.

“That’s what I thought!” Carly called after her with a laugh. She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face now if she tried. Shane’s note had resurrected the happy afterglow brought on by a great night of sex. Her day at the courthouse was pushed to the back of her mind as her body hummed with thoughts of Shane.

She shouldn’t see him again. They’d agreed to one night—and what a night! There was no harm in a little dinner, though, Carly rationalized. A girl had to eat.

* * *

Two hours later, Carly pulled into Shane’s garage
and parked her car next to his. She’d called him earlier and they’d agreed not to advertise her presence at his house. Too many Blaze employees lived in the neighborhood and could recognize her car. She knocked on the mudroom door.

“It’s open! Come on in,” he called from inside the house.

Beckett greeted her with a slobbery tennis ball as she emerged into the kitchen. Something was sizzling on the industrial-sized stove. Butter and garlic, from the smell of it. She brushed her fingers over Beckett’s head as Shane turned from the pot he was stirring.

He looked delicious, dressed in a pair of ancient Levi’s, worn out in all the right places. A T-shirt advertising a San Diego microbrewery stretched perfectly over his broad, sculpted chest. His feet were bare and his hair damp as if he were fresh from the shower. Turning from the massive cooktop, he tossed a dish towel over his shoulder, greeting her with his now-familiar wolfish grin. Tingling began in the pit of her belly.

“Hey there,” he said, his voice husky as his eyes took in her dark blue suit like a man who knew exactly what she wore underneath it—which he did. “I hope you’re hungry.”

It was all she could do not to lick her lips. She stepped out of her high heels and slowly strolled across the kitchen, stopping inches from him. She could feel the heat of his body—or was it hers? A little sigh of satisfaction escaped her mouth at his indrawn breath when her hands came in contact with his taut abs. Slowly, she slid her hands up his chest before wrapping them around his neck. The look in his eyes told her everything she wanted to know.

“I’m starving,” she whispered before pulling his lips down to meet hers. Her resolve to keep tonight dinner-only evaporated as quickly as the steam escaping the pot on the stove behind them. She lost control of the kiss instantly as Shane devoured her mouth, his tongue pressing in and exploring all of her. It was a heady sensation, his kiss. One her body couldn’t seem to get enough of. Somehow his hands had already found their way beneath her skirt, but he stopped kneading her bottom long enough to reach behind him to turn off the gas.

“I planned on eating right away, but I guess we can enjoy some appetizers first,” he said, kissing the side of her mouth. Then he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around him, her skirt riding up to her waist as his hands continued to caress her backside while he carried her to his bedroom.

* * *

“So, where did you learn to cook?” Shane looked
across the table at Carly. She’d pulled on one of the dress shirts he’d left by his bed when he unpacked earlier that day. The wrinkles in the shirt and her rumpled hair made her look as if she’d just tumbled out of bed—which she had. Her skin still held a trace of pink and her blue eyes sparkled against the blue of the shirt. Spearing another bite of sea bass with her fork, she waited for him to answer.

“The
Food Network
.
” He fiddled with the stem of his wineglass as he watched her enjoy the grilled fish and pasta.

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Rachael Ray, Sandra Lee, and food. What’s not to love? Besides, a guy’s gotta eat. If you can read and follow a recipe, you can cook.” He took a sip of his wine.

She laughed. “It figures. I’ll bet you love Giada, too.”

“Hey, I’ve been told my linguini in clam sauce is to die for.” He watched as she speared another piece of fish. She closed her eyes as she chewed and swallowed, a look of bliss on her face.

He could watch her eat all night.

Shane was glad she enjoyed the food he’d prepared. Thankfully, she wasn’t one of those women who counted every calorie, analyzing every morsel before putting it in her mouth. And her body was none the worse for wear in spite of it. His hands and mouth had covered every inch of her over the past twenty-four hours and he could testify to the fact that she was luscious and firm in all the right places. He’d frequently seen her working out in the gym at the training facility, so he knew she wasn’t careless about her body image, just not obsessed with it. It was one of the things he liked about her.