Playing for Kicks (Play Makers Book 5) (42 page)

“Order yours in French, not Spanish, Bammie,”
he urged her mischievously.

“I would,” she said with a shrug. “But my
accent only works with a cute guy’s tongue down my throat.”

“
Aaaaand
she’s back,” Bam announced,
grinning victoriously.

Johnny howled, and even the waiter chuckled,
while Erica informed Rachel dryly, “Didn’t I tell you? She’s worse
than your fiancé sometimes.”

Rachel beamed at Tess. “I was afraid you were
holding back on my account. Apparently not.”

“She can’t help it,” Bam said with a grin.
“Thanks, Bammie.”

She smiled at him, then suggested, “I could
roast a turkey next Sunday as a compromise. It’s my specialty.
Assuming Sean’s okay with the mess.”

“Sounds great,” Sean said easily. “As long as
we keep some leftovers.”

Bam held up a hand in protest. “When you say
turkey, do you mean
my
kind? Or Rachel’s kind?”

“Rachel’s kind, obviously. Even though I
don’t know what that means.”

Rachel arched a teasing eyebrow. “He’s
obsessed with his mom’s stuffing.”

“No,” Bam corrected her. “Rachel opposes
all
stuffing. She fills the carcass with
mandarin
oranges
. Who does that?”

“Oranges?” Tess bit back a laugh. “Sorry,
Rachel, but I’m with Bam on this one. That’s an abomination.”

Rachel sighed. “I’ve offered to make it his
mother’s way, but she won’t give me the recipe until we’re
married.”

“Huh?” Tess arched an amused eyebrow at the
halfback. “Your mom’s hard-core, dude. Luckily, the Colby family
recipe is the best in the world. And I’m willing to share.”

“It’s probably good,” he conceded. “But Mom’s
is the best.”

“Are your ears bleeding?” Sean whispered to
Erica and Johnny.

“It’s unbelievable,” the QB agreed.

Ignoring the naysayers, Bam quizzed Tess on
the ingredients for the Colby family stuffing. When she said
sausage, he nodded, impressed. When she said black olives, he sat
up a little straighter.

And when she said butter, Rachel chimed in
with: “Sausage
and
butter? Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Back off, teach,” Bam warned. “I’m liking
this idea. Sunday, right?”

Tess nodded. “I’ll pick up my gear in Seattle
after my last shift.”

“You have turkey-making gear?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“Oh, my God,” Erica complained with a laugh,
and even Rachel rolled her eyes.

But Bam was clearly in heaven as he stood and
raised his Pilsner glass, saying, “To Bammie. For luring Deck away
from Kerrie. We’ll owe you forever, babe.”

Tess wanted to protest. To insist she hadn’t
“lured” anyone away from anyone. But Johnny got there first.

Unfortunately, he made things worse by saying
cheerfully, “Give Erica some credit. She’s the one who set them
up.”

Rachel’s brow knitted. “I didn’t realize you
guys met each other before—well, before the breakup.” To Erica, she
added warily, “You set them up? I mean, that’s fine. I just didn’t
know.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Tess said quickly. “I
was interviewing athletes for an article. And Erica suggested Sean.
Strictly business.”

There was a moment of strained silence, then
Erica said, “It wasn’t just business. I’m sorry, Rachel, but Tess
just seemed like such a free spirit. And he was so bogged down with
Kerrie. It was like we were losing him forever. So yes, I wanted
him to get a taste of—well, something more positive before it was
too late.”

The silence was deafening. Then Rachel
surprised them by admitting, “Remember our engagement party? When
we all met Darcie for the first time? I had the
exact
same
impulse. That Darcie and Sean would be better together. Or at
least, less complicated. Not an uphill battle like him and Kerrie.
So I get it, Erica. I promise.”

“Women,” Bam growled. “Why can’t you just be
happy? Deck has Bammie, we all love her, and she knows how to stuff
a turkey. Even Riga thinks she’s cool. So problem solved.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Johnny said with a
laugh, hefting his beer as Bam had done.

Tess felt her cheeks warm.

Sean must have noticed because he said
cheerfully, “I’m glad you guys like her. But she’s
my
date.
So I’m gonna dance with her.”

Pleased, she stood and took off her sweater,
then hung it on the back of her chair, conscious that she had just
bared more than her shoulders. This dress with its blazing-scarlet
silk and curve-hugging contours turned her body into a weapon and
she knew it.

“Geezus, Bammie,” Bam croaked. “Put your
clothes back on.”

Johnny chimed in, demanding in a semi-serious
tone, “What the hell?”

But Sean said it all when he looked her up
and down, then murmured, “Man . . .”

“It’s this dress,” she insisted. “It would
make Olive Oyl look curvy.” Then she took him by the hand, obsessed
with feeling his body against hers, and told the table, “If the
food comes, just dig in. We might be a while.”

• • •

Sean held her close, loving the feel of her.
Loving the way she had braved the fire with Rachel. And most of
all, loving how her ass looked in this dress.

Unbelievable . . .

“You were right about Rachel,” she told him
in her most breathless voice. “She’s incredibly sweet.”

“Forget about Rachel.” His hand slid up to
her breasts. “I’m digging this no-bra trend.”

“No panties either.”

“Huh?” He wanted to scoop her up and take her
to his suite, but a part of him—the stubborn part—needed to know
what had changed. They had been waiting for her to check all the
boxes—the articles, bartending, the job with Erica.

Now suddenly, she was good to go. Why?

“Just promise me it’s not about the horse,”
he said gently.

She rolled her gorgeous blue eyes. “Not even
close.”

“Great. Let’s get out of here.” He nuzzled
her warm neck. “Man, you’ve got the best shoulders.”

“Be civilized. We have to eat first. Then you
should propose a toast to Rachel and her big move to Portland.
Then
you can wrinkle my dress.”

He stared down at her, more in love than
ever. “Can I tell you something? Seriously?”

“Okay.”

“When I say you’re cool? When I tell Riga and
John and anyone else who’ll listen? It’s
this
. The way you
handle things. Married twins, harems, lame horses, raccoons,
Bannerman. Crazy shit, but you always come back for more. It’s
awesome.”

“Thanks.” She tousled his hair in that sexy
way she had. “We need to go back to the table, Sean.”

“Why? They’re fine on their own.”

“Except the music stopped. And people are
staring.”

“Dang.” He chuckled and took her by the hand.
Then he stepped back, looked her up and down, and said with a
self-satisfied grin, “Eat fast, okay?”

• • •

No one complained when Tess and Sean left
right after the main course, and she knew why. Like Erica, they
craved this. To see Sean in love. Even poor Rachel seemed pleased,
although it had to be bittersweet for her. And awkward, since
Kerrie might ask if Sean was seeing anyone, and Rachel would feel
the need to be honest.

Don’t think about that,
she told
herself as Sean wrapped his arm around her waist and hustled her
toward the elevators.
Remember what she said? Things are getting
better for Kerrie. So maybe she’s seeing someone else by now too.
Or back with her husband, even though he’s supposedly a
dick.

“So how does this work?” Sean demanded when
they were alone in the elevator. “Do I just unwrap you?”

She giggled happily. “There’s a secret
zipper, so be patient. Plus, I have this all planned out.”

“A zipper?” His hands traveled the curves of
her body, then up under her skirt. “Am I getting warmer?”

“Oh, Lordy . . .” She molded against him
amorously. “More like hotter.”

The doors opened and he hurried her to his
suite, asking gallantly, “Do you need anything from your room?”

“No, thanks.”

“Are you going to sleep there? When we’re
done, I mean?”

“I don’t think we’ll
ever
be
done.”

“Huh?” He seemed momentarily dazed, and she
realized he had expected it to be like sofa sex—playful and
satisfying in its own way, but not quite complete.

Smiling, she took his key card and swiped it,
then pushed open the door. He took over, opening it all the way so
she could walk to the middle of the living area, taking stock of
the surroundings. A little chilly, but they would take care of
that. The clock radio had an iPod port, champagne was already
cooling on the built-in bar, and a bed was visible in the next
room.

In other words, they were all set.

He stepped into her, his green eyes hot with
desire. “Tantric? Or old school?”

“I was hoping we could dance. I brought music
. . .” She snapped open her purse, pulled out her iPod, and
queued up the Eagles song. “Okay? I mean, it’s not Hawaii .
. .”

“Sure it is,” he murmured, pulling her close
again. Then he crooned in her ear, his voice even clearer, sexier
than she had imagined, transforming the romantic lyrics into a true
love song.
Their
song.

You know I’ve always been a dreamer
. . .

Tears poured down her cheeks as he warbled
softly, and then, because the song told them to, they took it to
the limit, kissing madly, gasping for air, moaning each other’s
names as their mouths devoured each other. Then she stepped back,
her gaze locked with his as she worked the buttons of his shirt.
When he had stripped it off, she showed him the zipper in the side
seam of the dress and he slid it with slow anticipation, then
pulled the fabric down over her hips and to the ground so that all
she was wearing were her high-heeled sandals.

“Geezus, Tess,” he said in a husky voice.

“Yum.” She climbed him, half mischievous,
half amorous, and he freed his erection so he could get in on the
fun. Backing her against the wall, he hoisted her up and worked his
way into her, gentle at first, then avid, rhythmic, until she was
crying out with excitement.

She hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t done it this
way—so hedonistic and unrestrained. Joyful beyond belief. She had
pictured a bed, but who needed a bed when her insides were going
wild. As she arched and ground herself against him, frantic to feel
every nuance of pleasure, her climax built to a fever pitch, again
and again until she was sure it was the mother of all sex dreams.
Meanwhile, his hungry mouth was all over her neck, her breasts,
anyplace it could reach, but never kissing her, and even in her
groggy state, she finally realized why.

If he kissed her—if they joined together so
completely, so perfectly—he’d come.

And since she wasn’t a procrastinator, she
grabbed his face between her palms and kissed him until he exploded
inside her, taking her with him for a final, mind-crushing climax
that seemed to go on forever. Like nothing she had ever felt, and
she had felt some worthy efforts in her time.

But this? She could barely comprehend it, so
she didn’t even try. Instead, she just went with it, wringing out
every bit of sensation, bizarrely conscious of his flexed muscles
and feverish skin.

He was still holding her up off the floor,
their bodies still melded, still virtually humming, when she
managed to whisper a single word, “Sean.”

“Yeah, nice,” he agreed.

“Just nice?” she teased. Then she looked up
into his gorgeous green eyes and saw the truth—the blaze of awe and
disbelief of a man who had just re-discovered his freedom. So she
stroked his jaw and said gently, “We’re so lucky we found each
other.”

“It’s a miracle,” he said hoarsely. “My God,
Tess. When I think about what I almost did . . .”

“Then don’t think about it. Think about
us.
Or Erica, obviously.”

His gaze lightened. “Yeah, she’s pretty hot.
But I’m disbanding the harem. More work for you,” he admitted as he
lowered her to her feet, “but I’ll make it worth your while.”

She looped her arms around his neck. “Naked
Jaws?”

“The minute we get home.”

“No worries,” she told him with a teasing
smile. “I brought the DVD.”

• • •

The next morning, Sean sat propped against
two bed pillows as Tess straddled his body and fed him blueberry
pancakes. He wore jeans, a leftover from answering the door for
room service, but had peeled off his shirt the moment they were
alone again. Tess hadn’t donned a stitch of clothing since he
unwrapped her from the Hawaiian dress, and so as he listened to a
silly story from her childhood his gaze shifted contentedly from
her nude form to the pancakes.

When his phone played “California Girls,”
they both knew it was Rachel, and Tess urged him to answer it, so
he said cheerfully, “Morning, Rachel. You’re on speaker. How’s it
going?”

“Hi, Rachel,” Tess called out.

“Hi, you two. We’re in the lobby, but no
hurry. Johnny made arrangements for breakfast at the Cliff
House.”

Sean winced. “We didn’t know that was
happening. So we’re already having pancakes.”

“You and your pancakes,” she said with a
laugh. “We’ll miss you guys. You’re still coming to the game,
aren’t you?”

“Unless we’re having pancakes again,” Tess
said mischievously.

When Sean cracked up, Rachel laughed too.
“Why do I get the feeling we’ll never see you again?”

“We’ll see you on Turkey Sunday,” Tess
promised. “It was so much fun meeting you, Rachel.”

“Yes,” she teased. “I’m sure it was the
highlight of the weekend.”

“Best weekend ever,” Tess agreed.

Sean eyed the phone. “Hey, Rachel? What are
the odds your berserko boyfriend will storm our suite?”