His Seduction Game Plan (6 page)

“I don't think he's up for visitors. I'm happy to look through his boxes, though,” she said.

“I don't want you to have to do that. Maybe I'll call back next week and see if he's any better.”

“Okay,” Ferrin said. “That would be fine. I'll let him know you called, Graham.”

“Thanks,” he said, hanging up the phone. She wondered what was in those boxes that everyone wanted to look at and her father wasn't interested in sharing. She suspected that for her father, it would be bittersweet for him to be reminded of a time when he was young and fit and healthy.

A little while later, when it was almost lunchtime, Ferrin went into the kitchen.

“I'll take his lunch tray up,” Ferrin said to Joy. Then she remembered how reluctant he was to leave his room. “On second thought, would you mind setting up our lunch on the patio by the pool? I think it will be nice to get him outside.”

“I don't mind setting it up out there, but how are you going to convince him to come downstairs?” Joy asked.

“Leave that to me,” Ferrin said. Armed with her new advice from Hunter, she was pretty sure she could motivate him to get out of the bed.

She climbed the stairs and realized the song “Walking on Sunshine” was running through her mind. Really? One call from Hunter and now she was energized.

She paused midway up and stood there. She knew the psychology of falling for someone. Understood that the newness of it could flood the body with euphoria. But she'd never experienced it herself before. She didn't want to fall for a man. Especially one like Hunter, who was clearly not going to be long in her life. It was complicated. It made no sense.

But she couldn't deny that for the first time in a week she felt peppy.

She hurried up the steps and knocked on her dad's door.

“Come in.”

She opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dark, gloomy. The curtains were closed. She walked over and opened them as she had when she'd come up for breakfast.

“Who closed these?”

“I did. The sun is so bright today,” he said.

“I'm glad to hear you got up to close them,” Ferrin said, ignoring his grumpiness. “We are having lunch downstairs.”

“What?”

“Doctor's orders, I'm afraid.” A little white lie never hurt anything, she thought. She just needed him out of this room. Maybe he'd find something to renew his happiness.

“Told you she had it in for me. She knows I can't get out of the bed,” he said.

“By your own words you closed the drapes.”

“Damn, heard that, did ya?”

She smiled at him. There were moments when he was the father she'd always wanted. “Yup. Now up and at 'em.”

“I'm not sure I can,” he said.

“Really?” she asked, walking over to the bed. “You told me that you don't want to retire, but you will have no choice unless you get up. The thing is, you aren't going to be able to do it all at once. Just one small step each day.”

“You think?”

“I know. Isn't that what you would tell your players?”

“Touché.”

Pushing the covers back, he swung his pajama-covered legs over the side. He was a big man, almost six-four, and he was solid. She came to his side and offered him her arm, which he took to stand up. He held on to her as he carefully rose. Their eyes met and for the first time in her life she felt as though her father needed her.

Being here while he lay in bed hadn't really made her feel like anything other than a glorified nursemaid. But this...this mattered.

He shuffled over to his chair and she helped him sit down so he could put his slippers on.

“I'm pretty weak,” he admitted.

“You are. That's why we are having lunch outside.”

She helped him stand up again and he took a few steps on his own and then walked toward the door. It was as if he was trying to make sure he knew his own limitations.

“I've always made my guys who were recovering from an injury get back on the field. Made them move. I guess I needed someone to make me do it.”

“Guess so,” Ferrin said.

“Thanks, sunshine,” he said, before opening the door and making his way carefully down the stairs.

Ferrin followed him down the stairs, wondering how much of their problems was down to her always falling back on childhood disappointments. Maybe she and her dad should start with a clean slate. Start over so she could get to know him as an adult.

Joy was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, watching their slow progress. She winked at Ferrin as Coach stepped off the stairs and made his way out to the patio.

“Good job,” Joy said.

“He was ready,” Ferrin admitted. But she was secretly pleased.

She stopped in the kitchen to don a beach hat and her sunglasses before picking up her father's college baseball cap and his sunglasses.

She handed them to him as she joined him at the table. Coach stared out at the horizon and she wondered what he saw out there.

“What are you looking at?” she asked.

“Your mom and I used to talk about buying a boat,” he said suddenly.

Ferrin figured it wouldn't help him to know that her mom and stepdad had one that they took out on the lake every weekend. “Why didn't you?”

“I was busy and you were little. Didn't want you to drown. You weren't very strong as a kid.”

“Strong? I was healthy,” Ferrin said.

“Yeah, but you weren't outdoorsy,” he said. “I tried to teach you to swim but you cried. I tried to teach you to play football, again with the crying.”

“I'm sensing a theme here,” she said. “I remember you tossing me into the pool.”

“Yeah, your instincts never really kicked in,” he said.

“That's not how you teach a kid to swim,” she said.

“It's how my dad did it,” he said to her. He looked at her and not for the first time she realized how little she knew about her father.

“I never knew that. What was he like?”

“Like? He was a man. He told me to do something and expected me to do it. I think he was proud that I played ball and when I got the coaching job...he liked always coming to the games,” Coach said.

“I wish I'd met him,” Ferrin said.

“No use wishing for things that can't be.”

And that sort of reminded her that he hadn't really changed.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, looking down at his plate. “I told Joy I wasn't eating any more salads.”

“The doctor insists. You know you had a heart attack,” she said.

“Don't sass me, Ferrin. I'm aware of my health issues,” he said.

She folded her hands together on the table. “One of your players told me to remind you that games are won by showing up every day and making small improvements. You can't beat this if you stay in bed and eat junk.”

“Good advice,” he said. “Which player of mine told you that?”

“Hunter. Hunter Caruthers,” she said. Of course, he'd take Hunter's advice but not hers or the doctor's.

“Hunter?”

“Yes. Do you remember he came to visit you?”

He nodded. “I'm not feeling so well. Get Joy to bring this rabbit food up to my room.”

Ferrin got to her feet, worried about him. But he shrugged her off.

“I'm fine, girl. I can get back upstairs.”

Hurt, she sat back down. “I'm not going to be here for dinner. I have plans.”

“Fine. See you tomorrow then.”

He shuffled away and she sat there watching him. Why did she keep trying to break through to him? When was enough going to be enough?

Six

K
ingsley Buchanan's house was nice. Okay, it was gorgeous. His fiancée was a whip-smart Latina with beautiful skin and hair and a laugh that was infectious. Conner was adorable. But what really captured Ferrin's attention was the way that Hunter was with the toddler.

Hunter's guard was down.

She'd tried to see the man behind the charm and when he was with Conner she was pretty sure she saw that man. He was open, and the affection he felt for his godson was clearly visible on his face.

“Ready for some football?” Conner asked. “Daddy taught me to throw.”

Given that Kingsley had been a very big deal quarterback in the NFL based on the trophies and pictures she'd seen as they'd walked through the house earlier, Ferrin was betting on Conner being very good at throwing.

“I am, buddy,” Hunter said. “But Ferrin can't catch. Can you help me teach her?”

She groaned.

“Really?” Conner asked. “Ever'body can catch.”

“Not me,” she admitted.

Conner came over to her. The football was too big and he held it with both hands against his body. He tipped his head back to stare up at her. “Unca Hunter can teach you. He showed me and I'm good.”

“I bet you are the best.”

He smiled up at her and she felt her heart melt a little. Being a mom wasn't something that she'd ever really had on her radar. She knew that just having a kid wasn't a guarantee that a person would be a good parent and she wasn't sure how the genetics would work out for her. Would she be like her mom or her dad?

Why chance it?

But seeing this sweet little boy, his smile and his earnest way of speaking, made her think about it.

“It's easy,” Conner said. He held the football with one arm and then reached for her hand and drew her down the hall.

Hunter watched her with amusement in his eyes and something else she couldn't really define as he followed them out to the yard.

“Stand here,” Conner said.

He positioned her in the yard where he wanted her and walked back over to Hunter, who had followed them out. Conner handed the ball to Hunter and looked up at his godfather for a long minute.

“You're better at catching than throwing,” he said.

“I am. But I still throw farther than you,” Hunter said.

“Not for long,” Kingsley said as he joined them, scooping his son up and propping him on his shoulder. “Conner's got my arm.”

“You think he should throw the ball to Ferrin?” Hunter asked. “She's never caught a ball.”

Something passed between the two men and Ferrin started to worry that they might see her as a charity case. Why had she told him she couldn't catch? She'd managed fairly well in her daily life without catching all this time.

“Maybe,” Kingsley said. “Why don't you coach her on catching while I give this monkey some advice.”

King turned Conner upside down and the little boy dropped the ball as he started laughing. Safe in his father's arms, he wasn't afraid of falling or of failing. She felt a pang because she'd never experienced that.

Grow up
, she thought.

She smiled at the laughter that filled the backyard and shook off her feelings. Her father wasn't this kind of hands-on dad and she had to admit that she loved the fact that Kingsley was.

Hunter came around behind her. He didn't touch her but she felt the heat from his body all along her back. She remembered the way he'd felt at the beach when he'd kissed her.

She shivered and he put one hand on her shoulder. She glanced back at him. The intensity in his eyes suggested he remembered their kiss, too.

“Okay, so catching...”

“Yes, catching,” she said. He put his hands on her shoulders, his touch moving slowly down her arms to her hands, which he cupped in his. “You're creating a pocket for the ball. You aren't catching it so much as giving it a safe place to land. Once you feel the tip of the ball in the pocket then close your hands. The grip is going to be awkward but that's okay. Once you have the nose in your hands, you've got it. And no one is going to tackle you.”

“That's a huge relief,” she said. Her hands shook a little bit and she realized she wanted to be good at this. That she wanted to be able to catch this ball. What if she didn't? Would Hunter get disgusted and walk away? Or lose his temper? Not that she'd seen any evidence of that.

“Good. Now, in the past when you've caught the ball, what was the hardest part?” he asked.

“Keeping my eyes open. It's unnerving to see something hurtling at me,” she admitted.

“Fair enough. I'm going to let you in on a secret,” he said.

She turned to face him because being in his arms made it really hard to concentrate and she wanted to hear his secrets.

“Yes?”

“I don't always look either. I run a pattern and then I get to the spot where I'm supposed to be. The rest of it is up to King. He has to hit the target.”

She tossed her head back and laughed. “Target? That right there is why catching sounds scary.”

“He won't throw it that hard. Do you want me to help the first time?” he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face Conner and Kingsley, who were both waiting.

“No,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I have to do this on my own.”

Plus it was distracting to have him pressed against her.

“Okay.”

Hunter took a few steps away from her. She watched him moving with that smooth fluid grace that always took her breath away. Then he stopped and gave Kingsley a hard look.

Kingsley smiled and nodded and she realized that she was being set up to succeed. For the first time in her life a man—an athlete—was determined that she would be good at something associated with football. She didn't bother to analyze the warmth that started in her stomach and spread throughout her body. She knew it was affection.

She'd just never guessed it would feel so good.

She cupped her hands the way that Hunter had showed her and Kingsley handed the ball to Conner, who drew his arm back and let the ball fly with more power than she'd expected. She immediately understood he'd been training with his father for a while.

It was all she could do to keep one eye open as the ball headed toward her. But she did it. She took a step forward to catch the ball and it landed in her hands with a solid thump. She hesitated for a moment and then closed her hands around it.

“I caught the ball!”

Hunter let out a whoop and Kingsley and Conner applauded as she opened her hands and let the ball fall to the ground. Hunter scooped her up in his arms and twirled her around.

“I couldn't have done it any better,” he said, bringing his mouth down on hers.

* * *

Watching Ferrin catch the ball that Conner had thrown was fun.
Fun.

It wasn't a word that he routinely applied to his life. How could he?

Before he retired from playing he'd been busy working out and taking hits. He'd stayed out of the locker room after games to avoid the press, and aside from showing up on TMZ and in gossip magazines very occasionally, he'd done a good job of keeping his private life private.

“Hunter?” Kingsley called his name.

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you were going to San Francisco tomorrow for the opening of the latest Seconds nightclub,” Kingsley said.

“Sounds very exciting,” Ferrin said. “I don't think I've been to a nightclub since I graduated college.”

“It should be a lot of fun. Conner is going to stay with a nanny from Gabi's agency while we go out,” Kingsley said.

“Normally my parents would watch him,” Gabi said. “But they are going, too.”

“To a nightclub?” Ferrin asked.

Hunter smiled. “Gabi's cousin is a co-owner. Guillermo de la Cruz.”

“I didn't make the connection,” Ferrin said. “So you are related to the Spanish aristocracy?”

“Very distant. I'm in the branch that left that all behind,” Gabi said with a smile.

“Gonna see my new cousins,” Conner said.

“Now that we are engaged, Conner is calling Gui's girls his cousins. In fact, you should be heading to bed, young man,” Kingsley said. “We are leaving early.”

“Okay. But I need a bath and bedtime story,” Conner said.

“You two should take a walk in the gardens. We will be back soon,” Gabi said.

Gabi and Kingsley got up and took Conner with them as they left the dining room. Hunter looked over at Ferrin; she was toying with the stem of her wineglass, spinning it between her fingers.

“So, do you like my friends?”

“I do. They're very nice. I am definitely seeing a different man here than I did at the beach and at Coach's house.”

“Good. I want you to know me better,” he said.

“Well, this is very nice. Not like the other night at dinner when it was like being in a fishbowl. I guess you are used to your celebrity,” she said.

“Not really,” he admitted. But it wasn't celebrity drawing their attention but notoriety that had been the cause of the stares. “Want to walk in the garden?”

“Yes,” she said, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. He led the way out of the house to the manicured gardens. There was landscape lighting to lead their way through the shrubs and plants. In the center of the garden was a stone patio with a fire pit that someone had laid earlier. The night was comfortable so he led the way to one of the benches and gestured for Ferrin to sit down.

He should ask her again about the files. Try to get what he needed from her. But he didn't want to pressure her. He liked Ferrin and wanted...a future?

Right. He had no future unless he could clear up the mystery of Stacia's death. And his gut was saying the answer was on those missing gym tapes.

She tipped her head back and glanced up at the sky. It was hard to see the stars here, but the moon was full. Big and bright. She nibbled her bottom lip and he wondered what was going on in her mind.

She wasn't carrying around the past like a fifty-pound weight the way he was. “What's on your mind?”

Wrapping her arm around her waist, she looked over at him, but her eyes didn't meet his. “I was jealous of a toddler today.”

“Conner has a great life,” Hunter said. “I think he deserves it but I can see why it might inspire jealousy.”

“No you can't. Even though you wanted to be a football player instead of a cowboy, you still had something to connect with your dad.”

“You didn't?”

“No. Part of the reason I'm reluctant to go through any of Dad's files is the fact that it stirs up old resentments. Old feelings of inadequacy in myself.”

He draped his arm over her shoulder and hugged her. “But you can catch now.”

She laughed but it was forced.

“What's the matter?”

“Not everything can be laughed away. I'm twenty-five, Hunter. I shouldn't be jealous of a toddler because his dad loves him,” she said. “Maybe that's too intense for you and not what you are thinking about in terms of me and you, but there it is. Those files you want to look at, I'd just as soon burn them, because they represent everything that he loved more than me.”

Hunter let his arm fall from her shoulders and leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. God, he didn't need these complications—he needed to see those files. He'd gone as far as he could with stories and hearsay. He needed some kind of evidence that other co-eds had been attacked so that the girls involved could come forward and help them find the person who'd killed Stacia. He sympathized with how Ferrin was struggling with her past. Being back in the house that was Coach's and not really hers was making her a little edgy. Hunter understood. But how would he ever get past barriers like this?

“I joke because it pisses me off, Ferrin. It makes me mad on your behalf. You're right when you said my dad and I connected. He might have thought I was being foolish to try to make a living off of football but he loved me enough to give me the room to try. I don't understand how Coach could be so good at motivating us and so horrible at parenting you.

“And I'm frustrated that no matter how much I show you my life and myself you keep doubting me. I get that you don't want to upset your dad—believe I understand it more than you probably think I do—but I need those answers to be able to see a future for myself. I want those files to make sure that when Conner goes to school kids don't point and stare because their parents remember King and I being arrested for a murder we didn't commit. And I want Stacia to finally rest in peace.”

“I'm sorry,” she said, quietly. “Truly I am. It might seem selfish to you—”

“It doesn't. I meant it when I said I get how delicate your relationship with your father is.”

“Maybe—”

“Don't. I don't want you to make a promise that will be hard to keep. Just know that nothing with you is a game to me.”

He couldn't push her further for access to the records. Not now. He wanted Ferrin to feel comfortable with him and in her own skin. He sat back and she put her head on his shoulder.

* * *

Ferrin pulled away as they heard footsteps behind them.

“Sorry to interrupt but Ferrin's phone keeps ringing,” Kingsley said.

She sprang to her feet as if she'd been given a reprieve and he wondered if that was how she felt. After all, she kept blowing hot and cold with him. Hunter didn't let it bother him. He was playing a game. A long game. Games weren't won by Hail Mary passes.

Kingsley sat down next to him on the bench.

“I was going to ask if you'd had a chance to talk her into letting you see Coach's files but I can see that you weren't thinking about the past,” King said.

“I wasn't,” Hunter admitted. “I'm playing the long game.”