Heather Graham (17 page)

Another game … a different game. Was that what life—and love—all was to Kent Hart? Nothing more than a game? A challenge to be tried and tested?

“Don’t go to the Rockies—don’t be with him!” she commanded herself out loud.

But she knew she would go. Nothing on earth could keep her away. Katie knew with a sinking dismay that if someone were to guarantee her that she would be a loser, it was a game she would play anyway. She wanted him with a desperation she had never thought possible. And she had known from his words, from his touch tonight, that she would have what she wanted.

Katie barely slept. She twisted miserably throughout the night. Sometimes too hot, sometimes too cold—and always dreaming, envisioning, imagining his touch …

Morning dawned clear and cold. The game was scheduled for one o’clock; by noon the stands were filled to capacity.

Katie had a seat at the fifty-yard line with several of the players’ wives. Raff hadn’t arranged it, she knew. Kent—or maybe Sam—had done so.

By the end of the first quarter it was obvious that it was going to be a tight game—a “death struggle,” as Joan Patterson, Bobby’s wife, told her with only a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “This is for the Superbowl,” she added with a grimace.

“Umm, the almighty Superbowl,” Katie agreed. And she added softly, “Damn, but they’re vicious out there.”

Joan laughed. “Oh, I suppose it beats feeding Christians to the lions.”

“Or a pair of gladiators?” Katie asked dryly.

“Precisely!” Joan laughed.

The game moved into the second quarter with the score tied at seven. Katie found that she was screaming herself hoarse and jumping up and down like everyone else.

“Would we have done this for gladiators?” she asked Joan.

Joan shuddered with wide eyes. “I hope not!”

Halftime came and went. Toward the end of the third quarter, Sam and Kent connected. Kent ran it out for a thirty-five-yard touchdown. The crowd went wild.

He’s good at this, Katie thought resentfully. He loves it, and he’s good at it, and I resent him for it. Why?

Because my father was good—and he died, she realized dully.

At the beginning of the fourth quarter the opposition moved hard and fierce for a touchdown. The teams were even again. Then the Saxons had the ball. They struggled forward, lost the ball, then regained it. Two minutes remained in the game, and it was beginning to look like it would go into overtime.

Then it happened again—Sam and Kent connected. Katie was on her feet as she watched Kent, racing like a streak down the field, a powerful streak it appeared as men clutched at him but fell. He just kept running until he was over the line. People went wild, screaming, shouting, jumping. Then screaming and shouting all over again.

“Oh, God!” Joan suddenly exclaimed.

“What?
What?”
Katie demanded.

“It’s Sam! They must have sacked him really hard after he threw the ball. He isn’t up yet.”

Someone next to Joan murmured that Sam had to be okay. But he didn’t get up. They weren’t even helping him limp off the field; they carried him off on a stretcher.

Katie wanted desperately to get to the lockers, but it seemed impossible. People were everywhere, and she couldn’t seem to struggle her way through. At last she got onto the field. And at last she neared the Saxons’ lockers. Being near wasn’t enough. People kept shoving her back.

In the end it was all worthless. Sam had been taken to the hospital, and Kent had gone with him.

N
EWS REGARDING SAM’S CONDITION
was released immediately. It wasn’t that bad by many injury standards of the game. He had three bruised ribs and one cracked one.

By the time the commotion died down and Katie was allowed to see him—only because Sam had asked to see her—he was sitting up in bed, smiling away with Sam Loper’s charming and inimitable smile.

Kent was idly leaning against the wall by the window. Somewhere along the line he’d had the opportunity to shower and change. He was wearing jeans, a tailored shirt and vee-necked sweater, and his sheepskin jacket was on a chair in the room. His hands were plunged into his pockets, and he watched Katie enter with casual interest.

She cast him an angry glance. Apparently, while she’d been suffering the agonies of the damned over Sam’s condition, he’d been well aware that things hadn’t been too bad. He’d taken time for himself, but he hadn’t bothered to find her.

“Katie!” Sam exclaimed, wincing only slightly as he moved. “Don’t frown like that—you’ll get wrinkles. Come here and give me a kiss, chastely on the cheek, before the Cougar there decides to show his claws.”

Katie hurried to Sam, took his hands in hers, and kissed him quickly on the mouth. She ignored Kent. Then she leaned back, still looking at him worriedly. “You’re really okay? Not just for the press?”

“I’m okay, Katie. It’s my first crack, but I’ve bruised ribs plenty of times before.”

Katie gave him a dry smile for his attempt at humor.

“At least it was the last play,” he said, then added reproachfully, “You didn’t congratulate us yet, Katie. The Saxons are going to the Superbowl.”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” she said. “Congratulations. I just can’t give a damn about the Superbowl. But since it does seem to mean so much to you, I’m sorry you won’t be playing.”

Sam shot Kent a quick glance. Katie learned that Sam, too, could speak with an edge of steel when he desired. “Oh, I’ll be playing in the big game.”

“With your ribs like that? You’re crazy, Sam! Kent,
tell
him he’s crazy.”

Kent shrugged. He watched her lazily through half-closed eyes. “I can’t tell him anything, Katie. He’s over age, and the team doc has said that he should be all right for a quarter or two.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she pushed Sam’s hands away from her. “You’re both insane,” she said bitterly.

“Katie …” Sam murmured unhappily, “I’m not a fool. I’ll be okay.”

“That’s what my father said,” Katie snapped.

Sam glanced at Kent. Katie wasn’t watching them, but she sensed their exchange of looks. Kent walked around to her and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. “You’re not being a cheerful visitor, Katie. I think it’s time we leave.”

Katie tried to shake off his touch; it was no good. She tossed her head around to stare up at Kent. “If you were his friend, you’d talk him out of this.”

“I am his friend, and I intend to respect his wishes because of it. Dammit, Katie! It isn’t the same game your father played. There are new rules and regulations.”

“Oh, great! While Sam is hauled off to the morgue, the refs will be handing out penalties! They’ll—oh!” She broke off as Kent’s fingers bit into her shoulders.

“Say good-bye to Sam, Katie. Tell him sweetly that you’ll see him in New Orleans.”

She locked her teeth together and didn’t say a word. Kent tightened his grip and lifted her from the side of the hospital bed.

“Bye, Katie.” Sam chuckled. “Have a nice trip.”

Kent was pulling her out of the room. “Please, Sam, think about it! You’re talking about your health, about the rest of your life.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sam promised.

Out in the hall Katie managed to break Kent’s grip and face him furiously, her hands clenched at her side. “How can you be like this?” she demanded, only keeping her voice low by forcing herself to remember they were in a hospital. “He’s your best friend, and he’s been hurt. You should be with him! You should be telling him how foolish it would be to try and play in his condition! But no! You all think you’re such muscle men. A few aches and pains go with the territory. I wonder if you even really care! All you seem to be thinking about is getting away for your weekend. Dragging me out like a caveman, thinking of nothing but yourself and fun and games for the weekend—”

“Am I having fun and games?” he interrupted. “Why, Miss Hudson, it sounds to me like you’re planning an affair.”

For a second she was speechless; then she was furious again. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she retorted. “I was thinking that the whole thing should be canceled so that you can be with Sam.”

“Sam doesn’t particularly want me here tonight,” Kent said dryly. Katie saw his eyes travel past her shoulder. Then he smiled. The smile was warm—and not for her.

She turned around herself. A tall, pretty, and very sophisticated-looking brunette was walking toward them, her fashionable boots clicking on the tiled floor.

“Hi, Connie,” Kent greeted her, and Katie remembered that she had met the woman briefly at the Saxons’ party.

“Hi,” Connie greeted Kent in return, then her speculative gaze touched on Katie with recognition and speculation. “Katie Hudson, isn’t it?” she asked pleasantly. “On the trail of the Cougar still?”

She was very pleasant, warm, and likable—even if she was gorgeous and dressed so well that Katie felt like an urchin in rags. She forced herself to smile in return. “Yes, I’m afraid so,” she murmured.

Connie laughed, a delighted and delighting sound. “Well, good luck, honey.” She returned her attention to Kent. “How’s our wonderboy?”

“Not bad at all,” Kent replied, “and anxiously awaiting his nonregistered nurse.”

“Wonderful,” Connie declared. She lifted herself on her toes and lightly pressed her fingers against Kent’s chest as she gave him a little peck on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, Cougar,” she murmured huskily. “We can’t have two of you down, can we?”

“I’m always careful, Connie,” Kent replied softly.

Katie felt as if she were intruding on something more intimate than she cared to understand.

“Bye, Katie,” Connie said, waving as she sauntered toward Sam’s room.

“Bye,” Katie responded.

She watched Connie disappear into the room. Kent cleared his throat. “Can we leave now?”

Katie remained silent for a second, a second apparently too long.

She heard a sigh of exasperation. “Katie, I’m leaving now. Are you coming with me?”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming with you,” she said irritably.

“Such enthusiasm! Sure sounds like fun and pleasure to me,” he commented dryly. “Yep, sheer fun and pleasure.”

He put an arm around her shoulders, but it was hardly an affectionate gesture. He was simply determined to propel her along.

Katie had imagined that Kent’s place in the Rockies would be an elegant house, contemporary and full of glass and chrome and conveniences. She began to get the idea that it wasn’t long before they reached his place, mainly because it was taking so very long to reach. They had left the city in a Jeep. That should have been another warning point.

Katie watched apprehensively as the terrain became more and more rugged. The road took them through forests, jagged cliffs, and rising hills. They were driving for an hour before it began to grow dark, and then she could only feel their ascension by the climb of the four-wheel-drive vehicle.

Kent was quiet for most of the drive; she’d tried to make conversation when they started out, but his answers had been monosyllables and she had given up. He had that tension about him that he emitted like electricity when he was aggravated with her. Which, of course, aggravated her in return, because he had no right to be angry—she did.

The drive began to wear on her nerves. And for miles now she hadn’t been able to see much of anything. She was tired of sitting, and she was thirsty and hungry. He’d been in too much of a hurry to get started when they’d picked up their luggage to stop for anything to eat.

She cleared her throat. “Don’t you think we should stop somewhere?”

He didn’t take his eyes from the road. “Why?”

“To eat.”

“We can eat at the cabin.”

She waited a moment, then asked softly, “And when will that be?”

He shrugged. “Okay. It will be awhile. There’s a little café up here a bit. Hamburgers and chili and the like. Will that suit you, Miss Hudson?”

She didn’t rise to the taunt. “Yes.”

It wasn’t a “little café”—it was a greasy spoon, a very greasy spoon. But Katie didn’t say a word. She ordered a hamburger, fries and a soda. Kent did the same. He ate quickly, then watched her as she tried to finish. There was something about his look that she didn’t quite like. He chewed on a piece of ice, then asked her casually, “So, Katie, what do you do when you’re not pursuing me?”

She stopped chewing, stilled for a minute, then set her hamburger down and folded her hands together, leaning slightly against the table as she arched a brow. “I thought this was my time to ask the questions.”

“We’re not there yet,” he told her.

“Why are you asking?”

“Point of interest, that’s all.”

Katie shrugged and picked up her hamburger, but she wasn’t hungry anymore. “I don’t do much of anything,” she replied. “I work.”

She could feel his eyes on her. He lightly drummed the table with his fingertips.

“Let’s go,” he said at last as he put some money on the table. “You’re not eating that thing anymore.”

Katie rose. He led her out with one hand at the small of her back.

She paused outside, looking around as he opened her door. The air was fresh and clean. It was cold, but it was beautiful. The new moon partially lit the mountains and their snowy peaks, and oddly, a certain peace seemed to settle over her.

Kent prodded her slightly to return to the car. She stepped up into the Jeep.

Kent was quiet again as they started off. Katie yawned, weary of the seemingly never-ending road.

“How much longer?” she asked.

“You know,” he responded pleasantly, “you’re a pain in the butt to travel with.”

“Probably because it’s foolish,” she retorted. “I’m not even sure that I need to be here. It’s more than possible that I have plenty of information on you for a ten-page article.”

“Do you really? And just what do you know?”

“That you’re an arrogant ass who just happens to have the ability to catch a pigskin ball.”

He laughed. “So why are you coming with me?”

“Stupidity.”

“Is that it?” he queried softly.

She glanced his way quickly, but she could read nothing from his features. It was too dark in the car. Still, the sound of his voice had been like brushed velvet; she felt as if it had caressed her. Heat shot along her spine, and her fingers were trembling where she clenched them together in her lap.