It Had to Be You (19 page)

He was so eager to please, she couldn’t help smiling. “All right.”

“Do you want wine or a beer? I’ve also got some iced tea.”

“Iced tea, please.” She took a seat at an old butternut drop leaf table.

He poured both of them a glass and then began fixing the sandwiches. A copy of Stephen Hawking’s
A Brief History of Time
lay open on the table. She used it as an opportunity to restore some semblance of normality between them. “Pretty heavy reading for a jock.”

“If I sound out all the words, it’s not too bad.”

She smiled.

He tossed the sandwiches into an iron skillet. “It’s an interesting book. Gives you a lot to think about: quarks, gravity waves, black holes. I always liked science when I was in school.”

“I think I’ll wait for the movie.” Taking a sip of iced tea, she pushed the book aside. “Tell me what happened with Molly.”

He braced his hip against the edge of the stove. “That kid’s a crackerjack. I met her inside when I was making my phone call. She told me some pretty hair-raising things about you.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that you’re keeping her a prisoner in the house. You tear up her mail, put her on bread and water when you’re mad at her. And you’re slapping her around.”

“What!”
Phoebe nearly knocked over her iced tea.

“She told me it doesn’t hurt.”

Phoebe was flabbergasted. “Why would she say something like that?”

“She doesn’t seem to like you too much.”

“I know. She’s like a fussy maiden aunt. She disapproves of the way I dress; she doesn’t think my jokes are funny. She doesn’t even like Pooh.”

“That might be good judgment on her part.”

She glared at him.

He smiled. “As a matter of fact, your dog was cuddled around her ankles most of the time we talked. They seemed to be old friends.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I might be wrong.”

“She honestly told you I slap her?”

“Yes, ma’am. She said you weren’t evil, just twisted. I believe she compared you with somebody named Rebecca. The first Mrs. de Winter.”

“Rebecca?” Understanding dawned, and she shook her head. “All that talk about Dostoyevski and the little stinker is reading Daphne du Maurier.” For a moment she was thoughtful. “How do you know she wasn’t telling you the truth? Adults slap children all the time.”

“Phoebe, when you were standing on the sidelines at the game, you looked like you were going to faint whenever anybody took a hard hit. Besides, you just don’t have the killer instinct.” He turned to flip the sandwiches. “For example—correct me if I’m wrong here—but I’m guessing it’s more than a fickle appetite that made you turn down Viktor’s barbecue that day we ate in your kitchen, not to mention that good sandwich meat I’ve got in my refrigerator.”

This man definitely saw too much. “All those nitrates aren’t healthy.”

“Uh-huh. Come on, sweetheart, you can tell Papa Dan your ugly little secret. You’re a vegetarian, aren’t you.”

“Lots of people don’t eat meat,” she said defensively.

“Yeah, but most of them are on their soapbox about it. You don’t say a thing.”

“It’s nobody’s business. I simply happen to like unclogged arteries, that’s all.”

“Now, Phoebe, you’re wiggling around the truth again. I have a feeling your eating habits don’t have anything to do with your arteries.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me the truth now.”

“All right! I like animals. It’s not a crime! Even when I was a child I couldn’t stand the idea of eating one of them.”

“Why are you so secretive about it?”

“I don’t mean to be secretive. It’s just— I’m not philosophically pure. I won’t wear fur, but I have a closet full of leather shoes and belts, and I hate all those hair-splitting discussions people try to push you into. Some of my reticence is habit, I guess. The housemother at my old boarding school used to make it rough on me.”

“How was that?”

“We once had a showdown over a pork chop when I was eleven years old. I ended up sitting at the dinner table most of the night.”

“Thinking about Piglet, I bet.”

“How did you know?”

“It’s pretty obvious you’re a big A.A. Milne fan, honey.” His eyes were warm with amusement. “Go on. What happened?”

“The housemother eventually called Bert. He yelled at me, but I couldn’t eat it. After that, the other girls came to my rescue. They took turns sneaking my meat onto their plates.”

“That doesn’t entirely explain why you’re so secretive about it now.”

“Most people think vegetarianism is a little kooky, and my kook quotient is high enough as it is.”

“I don’t think I ever met anybody other than football players who invests so much energy in pretending to be tough.”

“I am tough.”

“Sure you are.”

His grin annoyed her. “Just because I wasn’t strong enough to fight you off tonight doesn’t mean I’m not tough.”

He immediately looked so stricken that she wished she’d held her tongue.

“I’m really sorry about that. I’ve never hurt a woman in my life. Well, except for Valerie, but that was—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

He turned off the heat under the skillet and walked over to the table. “I’ve explained what happened, and I’ve apologized every way I know how. Will you accept my honest apology, or is this going to be lurking around every time we’re together?”

His eyes were so full of concern she had a nearly uncontrollable urge to slip into his arms and ask him if he would just hold her for a few minutes. “I accept your apology.”

“An honest acceptance or one of those female things where a woman tells a man she forgives him for something, but then spends all her spare time thinking up ways to make him feel guilty?”

“Does Valerie do that?”

“Honey, every woman I’ve been close to has done that.”

She tried to slip back into her old role. “Life’s tough when you’re irresistible to the opposite sex.”

“Spoken by someone who knows.”

When she attempted to frame a retort, nothing came out, and she realized that she didn’t have any resources left to play the part she had staked out for herself. “Those sandwiches must be just about done by now.”

He went back to the stove, where he checked the bottoms of the sandwiches with a spatula, then lifted them out of the skillet. After neatly halving them, he returned to the table with two brown pottery plates and sat in one of the captain’s chairs.

For several minutes they ate in silence. Finally, he broke it. “Don’t you want to talk to me about the game today?”

“Not really.”

“Aren’t you going to second-guess me on that double reverse? The sportswriters are going to rake me over the coals for that one.”

“What’s a double reverse?”

He grinned. “I’m beginning to see that there are some definite advantages to working for you.”

“You mean because I don’t have any secret desire to coach the team myself?”

He nodded and bit into his sandwich.

“I’d never do that. Although I do think you might consider opening up the offense more and starting Bryzski instead of Reynolds.”

He stared at her, and she smiled. “Some of Bert’s cronies got to me in the skybox.”

He smiled back. “The reporters were upset that you didn’t show up at the postgame press conference. People are curious about you.”

“They’ll just have to stay that way. I’ve seen a few of those postgame interviews. A person would actually have to know something about football to answer the questions.”

“You’ll have to talk to the press sooner or later. Ronald can help you through it.”

She remembered that Dan still thought she and the general manager were personally involved. “I wish you wouldn’t be so negative about him. He’s doing a good job, and I certainly couldn’t function without him.”

“Is that so?”

“He’s a wonderful person.”

He regarded her intently as he picked up a paper napkin and rubbed it over his mouth. “He must be. A woman like you has a lot to choose from.”

She shrugged and listlessly picked at her sandwich.

“Damn. You’re sitting there looking like a mule that’s been kicked one too many times.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He balled his napkin and tossed it aside. “I can’t stand to think that I did this to you. Where are your guts, Phoebe? Where’s the woman who maneuvered me into taking Ronald back as GM?”

She stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Like hell you don’t. You conned me. It took me a couple of days to figure out your neat little scam. You and Ronald set me up. He actually had me convinced the two of you were lovers.”

She was relieved to see that he seemed annoyed rather than angry, but she picked her words carefully. “I don’t know why that’s so hard to believe. He’s a very attractive man.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it. But the fact is, the two of you aren’t lovers.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do, that’s all. I’ve seen the way you treat him when you think I’m watching: running your eyes all over him, nibbling on your bottom lip, cooing when you talk.”

“Isn’t that the way women behave with their lovers?”

“That’s just it. You behave the same way with the janitor.”

“I do not.”

“You behave like that with almost every man you meet.”

“So what?”

“Everybody but me.”

He watched her push away her uneaten sandwich. “You try to tantalize me with that man-eater body of yours, but you can’t pull it off very long, and the next thing I know, you’re staring at your feet or foolin’ around with your fingernails.” He leaned back in his chair. “It hasn’t escaped my notice that you stick your chest out for everybody in pants, but lately it seems I can hardly exchange two sentences with you before you’re hunching your shoulders. Now, why is that?”

“You have an overactive imagination.”

“I don’t think so.”

She stood. “It’s late. I have to go.”

He rose, too, and came around the end of the table to touch her for the first time since the incident in the gazebo. He was relieved when she didn’t flinch, but his stomach still clenched when he thought about what he’d done to her.

As she stood before him in his old blue shirt, she looked both beautiful and fragile, and he couldn’t remember ever meeting a woman so full of contradictions. He didn’t want to like her, but it was getting increasingly difficult not to.

He closed his hand over her shoulder. “Are you still afraid of me?”

“Of course not.”

She might not be afraid, but she was skittish, and his conscience couldn’t tolerate that. Lowering his hand, he began very gently to rub her arm through the soft cotton sleeve. “I think you are. I think you’re scared silly I’m going to turn into some kind of deviant and attack you again.”

“I’m not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am.”

“Prove it.”

“How do you suggest I do that?”

He didn’t know what devil was prodding him; he only knew his teasing made her smile, and he loved the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when that happened. With a mischievous smile of his own, he pointed to his jaw. “Give me a kiss. Right here. A friendly little smacker like one friend gives to another.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Her eyes were crinkling, and he couldn’t resist teasing her a bit more, although it wasn’t exactly teasing since he kept thinking about how that incredible body would feel pressed up against his own, which, considering their earlier encounter, wasn’t the best reflection on his character.

“Come on. I dare you. We’re not talking about one of those unsanitary soul jobs. Just a friendly little peck on the cheek.”

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

He noticed that she’d waited a few seconds too long to protest, and those golden brown eyes of hers were as soft as her lips. He was no longer in the mood to tease, and his voice sounded husky. “Liar. All this heat can’t be coming just from me.”

He dipped his head, and the next thing he knew, he was nuzzling the side of her neck, finding a soft spot just below her ear. He didn’t draw her into his arms, but the tips of her breasts brushed his chest.

He heard her sigh. “We don’t like each other.”

“We don’t have to like each other, honey. This isn’t a permanent partnership. It’s animal attraction.” He kissed that alluring mole at the corner of her eye. “And it feels good. You feel good.”

She moaned and leaned against him. He gently cupped her arms, and his kisses moved lower until he found her mouth.

Her lips were soft, neither parted nor sealed, just soft and right. She tasted good, smelled good, like baby powder and flowers. He felt like a randy sixteen-year-old, and as he slid his tongue over the plump curve of her bottom lip, he reminded himself that he’d outgrown her type of woman years ago. Unfortunately, his body seemed to have forgotten that fact.

He deepened the kiss, telling himself that he might be starting to like her, but he didn’t respect her, he didn’t trust her, and if he couldn’t touch those breasts of hers soon, he was going to explode. Except after what had happened in the gazebo, he needed to move slow, but, God, she was driving him crazy.

She pressed against him and made a soft moaning sound that was like a shot of whiskey straight to his veins. He forgot about moving slow. He forgot about everything except this hot little, soft little, eat-me-up baby with the come-to-papa body.

Her lips parted and he plunged inside her warm mouth, but he wanted more. He caught her hard in his arms, felt those cream whip breasts spread against his chest while rockets shot off in his head. And then he had one hand on the sweetest curve of beautiful ass he’d ever touched in his life, and he deepened the thrust of his tongue, but even that wasn’t good enough because he wanted to curl it around her nipples and slide it between her legs and lick the sugar right off her. He was hard and crazy and his hands were all over her, his lunacy fed by the throaty moans she was making and the frenzy of her movements against him.

He wanted her to touch him. He wanted her on her knees, on her back, straddled, spread, any way he could get at her, right here where the heat from their bodies would burn up the floorboards and send them plunging straight down to the fiery center of the earth.