Night Games (10 page)

Hundreds of questions fought for supremacy, hundreds of doubts reared their logical heads, and hundreds of years stretched between Ally and this man who sat beside her.
If
his story was true. It was time to take her head out of the sand and decide what she truly believed.

“Tell me about your life. All of it. The truth.” She didn't look at him.

“Will you accept what I say?” He carefully took the pictures from her hand, then used his index
finger to tilt her face toward him. “Will you believe?” His voice was a husky whisper.

Talk to me in that voice forever, and I'll never doubt you.
“Make me believe.”

As though he'd forgotten his purpose, he slid his fingers through her hair and gently massaged the back of her neck. “Afraid of me, babe?”

His touch would end up shattering any composure she'd managed to maintain. She thought of lying. She didn't. “Yes.”

His soft chuckle brushed over her like a promise. “Fear can be erotic when what you fear is what you really desire.”

Oh God. She was losing it. Not only was she thinking about believing the unbelievable, but she was contemplating something even worse.

“Brian?”

“Hmm?”

“How do you feel about older women?”

“Older?”

“Five hundred years, give or take a few.”

 

 

 

 

“What?” Brian leaned back to stare at her.

She sat ramrod straight. Her expression indicated she was steeling herself to meet a solar firestorm.

“I need to know how you feel about older women because once you tell me about your life in 2502, I want you to help me with my book.” She avoided his gaze.

“Your book? The one about coping with single life? What does that have to do with older women?” He shouldn't have spent time talking to her. He only talked to women during the game. When the game was on the line, he told women what they wanted to hear, got it done, and walked away. This wasn't a game situation.
Then what the hell was I doing a few minutes ago?

Ally finally looked at him. “The premise has
changed a little. My publisher wants me to write about sexual adventure in the single life. Sex sells in any time, and my editor hinted sales might plummet if I don't hook up with someone, then write about it. I sort of can't do that, but maybe . . .” She sighed, then shrugged. “Maybe you could give me some ideas. From the sex god perspective.”

Brian narrowed his gaze. She was lying. That last part wasn't what she'd started to say. “I'm still waiting for the older-woman connection.”

“There isn't one. I almost made a poorly thought-out suggestion, but I changed my mind in time. So tell me about your life.” She turned to glance out the back window of the wagon.

Brian had the impression she didn't want him to see her expression. He had a suspicion. . . . “Would that older woman be you?”

“Five hundred years is a sizable maturity gap.”

She was now staring out the window in the front door of the wagon where he could see Katy's upper body. When Katy turned her head, he could see she was talking. He smiled. Everyone ended up talking to the Old One. She stimulated conversation.

“Let me guess. The mind-changing thing. At first you were going to suggest that I sacrifice myself on the altar of your one night stand for research's sake.” His body tightened at the thought. It must be a reaction to the new environment because he could have sworn that after the season
he'd just finished, he wouldn't even want to look at a woman until training camp.

“For just a moment. A mini-moment.”

Ally glanced at him, and he could see a flush rising to her cheeks. When was the last time he'd seen a woman blush? Never? Women who came to him wouldn't even think of blushing. They were either too busy anticipating what he'd do to them or determined that they would be the one woman to resist him.

She drew in a deep breath. “I couldn't do that with someone I just met. I'd have to know him better.”

“So know me better.” He didn't like the curl of excitement that lowered his voice, took his breath away until he spoke in a whisper.

Ally finally seemed focused. “You're playing with me. I heard you talking to . . . Cap, and I know you won't be having sexual relations with anyone.” She shrugged. “And I wouldn't want to be with a man who thought of sex as a game. But I do want to know about your life. Then you can tell me what I need to know for my book.”

For now, Ally. For now.
“I was born on one of the outer planets. Space travel's common in my time, and the haves and have-nots aren't separated by neighborhoods anymore. They're separated by planets. There's an even wider gap between the classes than in your time. Social programs for the poor don't exist.”

Ally grimaced. “It sounds pretty grim.”

He smiled. “There's still opportunity for someone with drive and ambition.”

“And that's you?”

Brian nodded. “Earth is home to the financially secure. No one has to lift a finger to do anything. Machines have come a long way. If you don't feel like thinking, a machine can do it for you. Most of the people who live on Earth inherited their wealth and have never had to do a thing in their lives. Genetic engineering produces humans who aren't susceptible to disease. Medications not only keep you thin, but can cure anything you do happen to get. So why exercise? Sorry to say this, but humans have become donothing blobs.”

“I want to know about
you.
”

He shrugged. “I never knew my parents, or at least not long enough for it to matter. I lived on the streets. I did physical work because on the outer planets people aren't rich enough to afford technology. They're better off in some ways.”

She looked away. It made him uncomfortable not being able to see her expression, so he reverted to what did make him feel secure. Touch. He reached over and lifted her hair away from her neck, then curled a strand around his finger. He liked the way her hair curled in the Irish humidity. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stopped long enough to notice what a woman looked like. The only parts of a woman he focused on were the parts that led to a team win.

Ally didn't stop him. “So tell me about your career.”

“My agent, Jupe, took me off the streets when I was sixteen. He saw potential. I trained for two years, then was drafted by the Testosterone Titans. Cap owns the Titans. Last year I was a free agent, and the Old One picked me up for her team, the Sex Monarchs.” He shrugged. “The Monarchs won the Sex Super Bowl this year.”

She nodded. “Go on.”

He stopped touching her hair and slid his hand down her back, massaged a circle at the base of her spine. “In 2502 all contact sports are banned. Too violent. But people still crave contact, so the game of sex is the most popular sport of my time. Hey, it's the only game in town. I'm at the top of the heap right now, and I intend to stay there for a long time.”

“Aren't you embarrassed?”

She wiggled her bottom into a more comfortable position. One that made him drop his hand from her back.

“Times change, Ally. Attitudes change. In my time, a man's ability to perform sexually is considered a talent to be nurtured and viewed openly. There's no stigma attached to it.”

Ally shook her head. “I can't believe that. How could five hundred years make such a difference in what people view as acceptable behavior?”

For some reason, it was important she understand. “Think about what was accepted behavior in your great-aunt's time, then think about now.
Would some of the music videos and movies you have now be allowed in her time? Think about some of the reality shows on your television. It won't be long into your future before
Sexual Survivor
airs to a national audience for the first time. It'll be condemned, but people will still watch. Then when something more outrageous is shown, people will think of
Sexual Survivor
as normal viewing. It'll happen. Soon.”

He could feel her mentally shaking off her horror. For the first time in his career, he felt the stirrings of distaste for what he did. Because he was seeing it through her eyes, her perspective, her values. He didn't like what he felt.

“I guess I believe you.” Ally didn't want to believe him. She couldn't conceive of the future he described.
Any more than Katy could conceive of MTV when she was young.
“One thing's been bothering me. Why do you speak so much like me?”

Brian grinned. “Contact sports are banned, but I guess humans will always be fascinated by violence. Movies from the past have been preserved. The ones that glorify violent sports are cult favorites. The whole planet tries to talk like the characters in the movies. For the last ten years, fight movies have been popular, especially . . .”

For the first time since he'd started explaining his time, Ally was ahead of him. “No, let me guess.
Rocky.
Everyone in your time talks like Rocky Balboa.”

“Yo.”

She knew he expected her to laugh. She couldn't. The whole idea of his life was so bizarre, what he was doing in her life even more bizarre.

He shrugged. “I also used the Language Assimilation Program. It scanned this time period's American speech pattern into my mind. When I don't need it any longer, I can have it deleted. I didn't want an Irish speech pattern. It would be too easy to check where I came from.”

Thoughts of technology always made her eyes cross. Time to change subjects. “So what do you spend your money on? Big house, big vehicle? Any favorite charities in your time?”

She watched his expression close, his lips tighten, and knew he was going to lie to her.

“I don't do anything with my wealth.” His body language said he'd told her all he intended.

Ally prepared to call him on his lie when a car horn blared much too close. The wagon swerved and leaned precariously, then shuddered as something hit it with an ominous crunch of wood and metal. Losing her balance, Ally slid from the bed and landed on the floor of the wagon with a solid thud.

“Katy!” Frantically Ally crawled toward the front of the wagon. Brian reached her in one stride, lifted her to her feet, then yanked open the door.

Ally scrambled out behind him, then paused to
absorb the enormity of what had almost happened.

The wagon was tilted at an unnatural angle against a stone wall while the horse placidly cropped grass.

Katy jumped up and down in place while she shook her fist at a car disappearing around a curve. “Come back here and fight like a man, you scumbag. Where'd you get your license, out of a cereal box? You want road rage, come back and I'll show you some road rage.” Katy in full voice could shatter a whole set of Waterford goblets.

Brian's muttered curse distracted Ally from Katy's tirade. She followed his gaze to the top of the wagon. The Old One crouched on the wagon's roof, every hair on end, her mouth opening and closing on soundless snarls.

The Old One's fear touched Ally, and she wanted to pull the cat into her arms. Even as she reached up, she realized it was her automatic comfort response.

Brian put his hand on her arm. “Don't. She's trying to change forms. This is not a good thing, believe me.” He turned his attention to the cat. “Calm down, Boss. Everything's okay. You don't need to do this.”

His voice had become a husky purr. Ally sure enough would want to do whatever that voice asked. But then Ally wasn't an ancient shapeshifter.

“Don't change. We're not in danger anymore.” He reached up to touch the Old One, but she
backed away from him, then started to shake.

Ally had seen enough. And what she saw wasn't the interfering owner of the Sex Monarchs, but a cat. Just a cat. She stood on the wagon seat and reached for the Old One. “Come on, girl. Women should stick together. I don't blame you for being scared. Whatever happened scared me too.”

And to the shock of everyone, probably including the Old One herself, the cat crawled to the edge of the roof and allowed Ally to scoop her up. Ally held the cat in her arms until the shaking stopped. Ally didn't have the courage to pet her. It would probably offend the Old One's sense of dignity anyway.

Climbing off the seat, Ally turned to her great-aunt, who was making internationally understood finger signals toward the departed car. “What happened, Katy? God, look at the wagon.” This was directed at Brian, who'd leaped to the ground and was inspecting the damage.

“Lots of bent and crunched stuff on this side. Afraid we won't be going anywhere with the wagon in this condition.” Brian walked to the other side of the road to peer down at a steep drop-off. He stopped well back from the edge.

Ally and Katy climbed off the wagon and joined him. Ally gulped. The rocky cliff dropped straight down to where the sea churned far below. Suddenly, the condition of the wagon paled in comparison to what
their
condition might have been. The Old One took a glance, then with a plaintive meow, crouched lower in Ally's arms.

Surprised, Ally stared at the cat. “She's terrified. And she's certainly not terrified of humans.”

“She can control humans.” He shrugged. “Everyone fears something.” There was nothing mocking in his statement.

“Even you?” Ally realized his answer was important to her.

“Even me.” His tone warned Ally that his fears weren't open to discussion.

He put his arms across both women's shoulders, then turned them away from the road edge. Ally felt a sense of security that she couldn't explain, didn't want to dissect.

“What happened, Katy?” His tone was grim.

Katy drew a deep breath, then was off and running. “I was driving there on the other side of the road, next to that cliff, just relaxing, when here came that car from behind me like a bat out of hell.” She paused for an editorial aside. “Stupid jerk.”