Playing for Hearts (96 page)

She leaned forward and picked at the hem of her cutoffs. She was going off course. “The thing is, what you don't know is during the last year I've been thinking of my future, a lot. Winning the Ironman for women was great and helped me be noticed by the press and organizations I needed to make contact with to get my name out as a trainer. But my love for what I do has always been about the training, and making other people feel good about themselves, set goals, and realize they, too, can succeed. And well, I want more in my life than a once a year event that'll either make me or break me. I want a boyfriend, a husband, a family. So, I think it's true, for me, I didn't see what was right in front of me this whole time. What's happening now had to happen when I was in the right place in my life for me to recognize it, I suppose. That's where you come in. The other day, I looked up and there you were standing in front of me.”

She stood and turned her back to Bruce. Fingering a book on the third shelf on her wall—ironically titled
How to Be a Winner
—she continued. “I don't want you to think I'm settling for you, because you've always been with me as a friend. That kiss … God, that was the most wonderful kiss I've ever had. You touched a part of me that I had no idea I even had. The last couple of days, all I can think about is having your lips on me again, all over me.”

Bruce remained quiet. She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She was afraid of turning around and seeing the horror on his face. They always talked about everything but had never approached having feelings for each other. Anxious and scared to death he'd find her repulsive for confessing her feelings toward him, she whirled around, needing to know what he was thinking.

“I need to know if you'll have sex with me?” she said. “I know this isn't romantic and I feel stupid enough as it is, admitting everything to you when you just got done cutting up a fish the size of which I'd never seen before, but it's driving me nuts not telling you all day how I'm feeling, 'cause … well, you're my best friend and I love you. I mean I
love, love
you.”

She waited for him to acknowledge his own feelings, or worse, to laugh at her and blame her delusional state on exhaustion making her loopy. Instead, he continued to lie there without responding. She approached the couch, leaned over, and peeked underneath his forearm when a soft snortle came from him, making her jolt. She rocked back a step.

The jerk was asleep.

Bruce lay unaware that she'd had a life changing moment. She folded her arms across the front of her and cupped her elbows. How could he do this to her?

When was she ever going to get up enough nerve to put everything on the line again? She ran her tongue over her teeth. God, they'd spent the last eight hours fishing. She'd taken a quick shower when they got home, but she hadn't brushed her teeth or put makeup on. She wore one of his shirts with a pair of her oldest cutoffs. What if he'd stayed awake and listened, while judging her looks? She was hideous.

She turned and walked out of the room, down the hallway, and closed herself in the bedroom. Not even bothering to get undressed, she lay on the bed and pulled the blanket at the foot of the mattress over her. What the hell was she thinking?

She couldn't compete with Janelle or any of the other beautiful women Bruce was attracted to. She also didn't want to be the aggressor in a relationship because, well, she liked that Bruce had kissed her without her begging him to or letting her reject him.

All she wanted was someone to love her for who she was, maybe sweep her off her feet, and take the responsibility away from her so she could take that jump with him. She closed her eyes. Was it so wrong to want what every other normal woman had?

She groaned. Tonight's outcome was probably for the best. At least Bruce had slept through her embarrassing confession. Because even if he had agreed to have sex, she'd always wonder if he was doing her a favor as her best friend. She needed more. She deserved more.

The bedroom door in the back of Crista's apartment shut with a soft click. Bruce removed his arm from his face and stared up at the ceiling, wide awake. His heart raced, and he was sure the thumping of his pulse alone would bring Crista back into the room.

Jesus, shit, and son of a bitch.
He opened his mouth and sucked in much needed air.

Once she'd started talking and talking and talking, he was afraid to interrupt her. Then she'd confessed about the opportunity to tell him her feelings were not romantic enough, and he decided to pretend to sleep. She was fucking right.

She deserved romance. To experience being swept off her feet for the first time, and ride the high of discovering love. The whole barrel of fish.

He continued lying there, afraid if he got up, he'd walk straight to her room and take what she offered. Jesus … she wanted to have sex with him.

She'd lied about their kiss. His smile grew and he rubbed his hand across his mouth, trying to wipe it away. He had to make plans. This was huge.

If she wanted romance, he'd damn well give her romance.

Rejuvenated over his epiphany, he watched the clock tick painfully slowly. She'd summed up his mixed feelings and fears every time he thought about her. She was his best friend. Nothing would change that, especially if they were both feeling the same way about each other. He definitely loved her. That was a given. But love-love?

Hell, he didn't even know what love-love was, but he liked the way she'd said the words together, as if they were special and deep.

When an hour passed and he was sure Crista had fallen asleep, he grabbed his cell phone from the counter and slipped out the door. In the hallway of the apartment, he let out the breath he was holding and jogged to the elevator. It wasn't every day a man found out his best friend loved-loved him, and he had to act now.

In the parking garage, he stopped. Glancing around, he declared himself alone and dialed the phone. There was one person who could help him and knew Crista almost as well as he did.

The phone stopped ringing.

“Yes?” Dominic answered.

Hearing the rough Russian accent on the other end of the call further excited him. “Hey, Chekovsky. What's up?”

“Uh … it's after midnight.” A groan came over the phone. “What the hell are you doing calling this late, Coldwell?”

“You were asleep?” He walked over to his rental car and sat on the hood. “Sorry, man.”

“Not all of us are single and party all night.” Dominic whispered to his wife, Diana, and came back to the phone. “Is everything okay? Diana's concerned.”

“Yeah, yeah, everything's great.” He smacked his forehead with his hand. “Listen, can you go to the john or in another room? I need to talk to you privately, and if Diana overhears, she'll call Crista, and all hell will break lose.”

“Sure, I have those hockey scores you want. I wrote them down in the other room. Let me go get them,” Dominic said.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked.

“Shit.” A clatter came over the phone, and then Dominic returned. “Okay, I'm in another part of the condominium. This better be good because Diana will punch me if she catches me lying.”

Bruce paused. He was right. Diana, Shauna, Crista, and Juan's wife, Dana, were best friends. Nothing got past the girls, and all his friends knew stealth and downright sneakiness was the only way they could keep anything away from them. “Fine. When we get off the phone, tell Diana I wanted to surprise one of the women in my life, and I needed your help. You won't be lying.”

Dominic laughed. “Get real. You never have problems with girls.”

“I'm going to tell you something that's going to fucking blow your mind, man.” He lowered his voice because although he was alone in the middle of the night in a parking garage, he'd never told a living soul what he was feeling about Crista, and for some reason that left him filled with adrenaline and wanting to shout it to the world. He also knew he should tell Crista first, but he had to try it out on someone else … to be safe . . . to know if he could even say the words out loud. “I'm falling in love with Crista.”

Dead. Silence.

“Uh … ” Dominic chuckled. “Do you want me to call for a taxi to come pick you up?”

He dug the heel of his shoe into the bumper of the car. “I'm not drunk. I'm at Crista's … out in the parking garage. Alone . . . because she wants to have sex with me.”

More silence. “Okay, I'm going to hang up and fly over there. Buddy, you need help.”

“Dammit. I'm not drinking. I'm not delusional. I don't want to go anywhere, and I sure in the hell don't want you flying over here,” he said.

“Are you telling me you want to have sex with Crista?” Dominic asked.

He closed his eyes for a few beats. Dominic was always slow when it came to women. “Yeah, Dominic, I want Crista.”

“I … honestly, don't know what to tell you. Are you sure you don't want to talk to Diana about this? She's usually the one who has the best advice when it comes to relationships, and—Crista and you? Seriously?” Dominic said.

His free hand came down and his back straightened. “What do you mean by that?”

“She's our friend,” Dominic said. “Hell, she's one of us.”

“So?”

“We've all slept with her.” Dominic lowered his voice.

“What?” Bruce bellowed, his throat closing up on him.

“You know, when we've shared hotel rooms and crashed during benefit dinners. Not sexual. We're friends. Friends don't have sex. It messes up the universe and brings bad—what does Diana call it—karma or mojo down on you. Maybe you're horny. You should go out and find a different woman. Don't hurt Crista.”

He inhaled deeply and held his breath. Dominic understood English, but he wasn't listening to him. He blew out his breath and talked at the same time. “I think I love-love her.”

He grimaced. Now he was even starting to sound like Crista.

“I've always loved her as a friend. She's my best friend. We do everything together, but I have to tell you, man, since I came to stay at her apartment, she's changed. I've changed. I can't stop thinking about her. She walks across the room and I get a—”

“No, shit, no. Don't go there.” Dominic muttered something in Russian. “I understand.”

“You do?” He hopped off the car.

“Yes, I do,” Dominic said.

He leaned back on the car. “I found out something tonight. Crista's like … a regular woman. A hot, sexy one.”

“Jesus, you've already had sex with her?” Dominic asked.

“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I'm saying she's not all about the triathlons. She has dreams about getting married, having kids, and settling down to train others about fitness. There's an uneasiness about her, and for the first time, I don't see another athlete. Bro, she's vulnerable, and I find that sexy. If I strip away my fishing career and her training, we're just a man and woman who kissed.”

“What?” Dominic said. “You kissed her?”

He laughed. “I saw her naked as a fish.”

“I'm hanging up.” Dominic coughed hard. “All I can tell you is to go slow, but fast. To tell her what you want, and don't make her guess. Women get crazy ideas when left alone to think too long. You have to be honest. Endearments help, too, but not ‘sweetcheeks'—I called dibs on that one for Diana.”

The tension in Bruce's shoulders eased. Dominic's advice was shit, but he understood. Or at least, he was coming around.

“So you think I should go for it?” he asked.

“Oh, boy,” Dominic muttered. “I think you know what you want to do. Use your head, not your dick.”

He planned to use both. “Thanks, man. I'll let you go.”

“No problem. I'll see you in a couple of weeks, yes?” Dominic said.

“What's happening then?” he asked.

“Grayson called and said we're all meeting in Cottage Grove. The women need a Girl's Night Out. He said you were down for coming,” Dominic said.

He groaned over forgetting about the plans. “Yeah. I remember. See you then.”

He disconnected the call.
Shit.

Grayson wasted no time. He'd planned the get together to coincide with his two-year anniversary with Shauna. Gary and his wife Angie, Dominic, Diana, Juan, and Dana were all going to be there. He and Crista both cherished the connection with the others. Now they were the only two not married and settled down.

A yearning to belong with Crista, to join their friends as a couple, and to settle down and enjoy life with the one and only person he needed hit him hard. Crista was a part of his life, and he suddenly wanted to scale mountains, see more of the world, hold her in his sleep, and veg on the couch on a Sunday while they teased each other over a bagel.

He wanted it all, and he wanted it with Crista. Not every few months, or daily phone conversations. He wanted to be a part of her daily life, forever.

“That's it,” he mumbled, smiling.

He had two weeks to romance Crista and solidify their new relationship. Hell, they were already best friends. They knew more about each other than most married couples do before marriage. They were already better off than Dominic had been when he started seeing Diana, who'd hated Dominic at the start. They got married only a few months later.

There really wasn't anything stopping Bruce from committing himself to Crista.

He marched to the stairwell, entered the apartment building, and kept on going straight up to Crista's apartment. Outside Janelle's apartment, he paused and looked over at the door. He was an idiot. He was also cruel. Crista deserved a man who knew what he wanted, and he never should have asked her to set him up with Janelle.

He continued down the hallway. First thing tomorrow, he'd call the florist and make reservations at an expensive restaurant with a corner table where he could talk to her in private. She needed to know how much he loved her and wanted to have sex with her. No, he couldn't romance her that way. She wasn't the type of woman to jump right into bed. He ran his hands over his face. But she had offered him sex; it was sort of the same thing.