Priceless

“What?” Beth asked, her voice surprisingly shaky.

“That your weak spot is chocolate.”

“That’s one of them,” she agreed.

Mack lifted his glass of water. “To discovering the rest,” he said, his tone soft and his gaze serious.

Mack Carlton
—He knows a lot of moves…on the football field and off. He took the game seriously until an injury forced him to the sidelines. Now he sits in the owner’s box, usually with a gorgeous woman close by, and takes very little seriously. It’s way past time for a reality check.

Beth Browning
—As a pediatric oncologist, Beth confronts life-and-death struggles every day. She has no patience with frivolity such as football or the grown men who live for games. Beth is a more than even match for a man like Mack, but when it comes to fate, she’s no match at all.

Destiny Carlton
—Mack’s aunt knows as well as anyone that life can take a tragic twist, so she’s an ardent believer in living every moment to its fullest. It’s Destiny’s opinion that her beloved nephew Mack understands all about the rules of the game of football, but nothing about the game of life. Until he loses his heart, she won’t be satisfied that he’s destined for victory.

One fun-loving man, one woman who’s suffered too much loss, and Destiny’s touch. Touchdown!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

M
ack Carlton, who’d had more quick moves on a football field than any player in Washington, D.C., history, had been dodging his Aunt Destiny for the better part of a month. Unfortunately, Destiny was faster and sneakier than most of the defensive linemen he’d ever faced. She was also more highly motivated. It was a toss-up as to how long it would be before she caught up with him.

Ever since she’d succeeded in getting his older brother, Richard, married a few weeks back, Destiny had set her sights on Mack. She wasn’t even subtle about it. A steady parade of women had been popping up all over the place. Not that that was an unusual occurrence in Mack’s life—he did have a well-deserved reputation as a playboy, after all—but these women were not his type. They had “serious” and “happily ever after” written all over them. Mack
didn’t do serious. He didn’t do permanent. Destiny, of all people, should know that.

Not that he had the same issues with love and loss that had kept his big brother off the emotional roller coaster. Mack preferred to think that his hang-ups had more to do with a desire to know lots and lots of women than any fear of eventual abandonment. Why limit himself to one particular dish when there was an entire buffet to be sampled? Sure, he’d been affected by the deaths of his parents in a small plane crash in the Blue Ridge Mountains when he was barely ten, but the trauma hadn’t followed him into adulthood as it had Richard.

Not that Destiny or Richard believed that. Hell, even his younger brother, Ben, was convinced they were all emotionally messed up because of the crash, but Mack knew otherwise, at least in his own case. He just flat-out liked women. He appreciated their minds, their quick wits.

Okay, that was the politically correct thing to say, he conceded, even though there was nobody around who was privy to his private, all-too-male thoughts. Truthfully, what he really appreciated was the way they felt in his arms, their soft skin and passionate responses. While he enjoyed a lively conversation as much as the next man, he truly loved the intimacy of sex, however fleeting and illusional it might be.

Not that he was any kind of sex addict, but a little wholesome rustling of the sheets made a man feel alive. So maybe that was it, he thought with a sudden rush of insight. Maybe what he loved most about sex was that it made him feel alive after being reminded at a very young age that life was short and death was
permanent. Maybe he had some emotional scars from that plane crash, after all.

He was still pondering the magnitude of that discovery when Destiny sashayed into his office at team headquarters, where he was now ensconced as part owner of the team for which he’d once played. He was so thoroughly startled by her unexpected appearance in this male bastion, he brought the legs of his chair crashing to the floor with such force it was a wonder the chair didn’t shatter.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Destiny said pleasantly, sitting across from him in her pale-blue suit that mirrored the color of her eyes.

As always, Destiny looked as if she’d just walked out of a beauty salon, which was a far cry from some of the pictures around the house taken during her years as a painter in the south of France. In those she always appeared a bit rumpled and wildly exotic. Mack occasionally allowed himself to wonder if his aunt missed those days, if she missed the life she’d given up to come back to Virginia to care for him and his brothers after the plane crash.

As a child he’d never dared to ask because he’d feared that reminding Destiny of what she’d sacrificed might send her scurrying back to Europe to reclaim it. As he’d gotten older, he’d started taking her presence—and her contentment—for granted.

Now he gave his aunt a cool, unblinking look, determined not to let her see that her arrival had shaken him in any way. With Destiny it was best not to show any signs of weakness at all. “You’re imagining things,” he told her flatly.

Destiny chuckled. “I didn’t imagine that it was your behind I saw scurrying out the back door at Richard
and Melanie’s the other night, did I? I saw that backside in too many football huddles to mistake it.”

Damn. He thought he’d made a clean escape. Of course, it was possible that his brother had blabbed. Richard thought Mack had taken a little too much pleasure in Destiny’s successful maneuvering of Richard straight into Melanie’s arms. He was more than capable of going for a little payback to see that Mack met the same fate.

“Did you really spot me, or did Richard rat me out?” he asked suspiciously. “I know he wants me to fall into one of your snares the same way he did.”

“Your brother is not a tattler,” she assured him. “And my eyesight’s twenty-twenty.” She gave him a measuring look. “What are you scared of, Mack?”

“I think we both know the answer to that one. I also suspect it’s the same thing that brought you to my office. What sort of devious scheme do you have up your sleeve, Destiny? And before you answer, let’s get one thing straight, my social life is off-limits. I’m handling it very well on my own.”

Destiny rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ve seen how well you’re handling it in every gossip column in town. It’s unseemly, Mack. You may not be directly affiliated with Carlton Industries, but the family does have a certain social standing in the community. You need to be mindful of that, especially with Richard entering politics any day now.”

The family respectability card was a familiar one. He was surprised she’d tried the tactic again, since it had failed abysmally in the past. “Most people are capable of separating me from my brother. Besides that, I’m an adult,” he recited as he had so often in the past. “So are the women I date. No harm, no foul.”

“And you’re content with that?” Destiny asked, her skepticism plain.

“Absolutely,” he insisted. “Couldn’t be happier.”

She nodded slowly. “Well, that’s that then. Your happiness is all that’s ever mattered to me, you know. Yours and your brothers’.”

Mack studied her with a narrowed gaze. Surely she wasn’t giving up that easily. Destiny was constitutionally incapable of surrendering before she’d even had a first skirmish. If she were so easily put off, Richard wouldn’t be married right now. Mack needed to remember that.

“We appreciate that you love us,” he said carefully. “And I’m glad you’re willing to let me choose my own dates. It’s a real relief, in fact.”

She fought a smile. “Yes, I imagine it is, since the kind of woman
I
see you with is not the sort of mental and emotional lightweight you tend to choose.”

He ignored the slap at his taste in women. He’d heard it before. “Anything else I can do for you while you’re here?” he asked politely. “Do you need any team souvenirs for one of your charity auctions?”

“Not really. I just wanted to drop by and catch up,” she claimed with a perfectly straight face. “Will you come to dinner soon?”

“Now that I know you’ve given up meddling in my social life, yes,” he told her, deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt for the moment. “Is everyone coming for Sunday dinner?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll be there,” he promised. At least there was some safety in numbers, in case Destiny had a change of heart between now and Sunday.

She stood up. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

Mack walked with her down the hall to the elevator, struck anew by how small she was. She barely reached his shoulder. She’d always seemed to be such a giant force to be reckoned with that it gave the illusion she was bigger. Then, again, he was six-two, so Destiny was probably a perfectly average-size woman. Add in her dynamic personality, and she had few equals of any size among Washington’s most powerful women.

She was about to step into the elevator when she gave him her most winning smile, the one reserved for suckering big bucks from an unwitting corporate CEO. Seeing that smile immediately put Mack right back on guard.

“Oh, darling, I almost forgot,” she claimed, reaching into her purse and pulling out a note written on a sheet of her pretty floral stationery. “Could you drop by the hospital this afternoon? A Dr. Browning spoke to me earlier and said one of the young patients in the oncology unit has a very poor outlook. The boy is a huge fan of yours, and the doctor feels certain that a visit from you might boost his morale.”

Despite the clamor of alarm bells ringing in his head, Mack took the note. Whatever Destiny was really up to, it was not the kind of request he could ignore. She knew that, too. She’d instilled a strong sense of responsibility in all of her nephews. His football celebrity had made fulfilling requests of this type a commonplace part of his life.

He glanced at his watch. “I have a business meeting in a couple of hours, but I can swing by there on my way.”

“Thank you, darling. I knew I could count on you. I told Dr. Browning you’d be by, that the other requests must have gotten lost.”

Mack felt his stomach twist into a knot. “There were other requests?”

“Several of them, I believe. I was a last resort.”

He nodded grimly, his initial suspicions about his aunt’s scheming vanishing. “I’ll look into that. The staff around here knows that I do this kind of visit whenever possible, especially if there’s a kid involved.”

“I’m sure it was just some sort of oversight or mix-up,” Destiny said. “The important thing is that you’re going now. I’ll say a prayer for the young boy. You can tell me all about your visit on Sunday. Perhaps there’s more we could be doing for him.”

Mack leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You ought to be the one going over there. A dose of your good cheer could improve anyone’s spirits.”

She regarded him with a surprised sparkle in her eyes. “What a lovely thing to say, Mack. That must explain why you’re such a hit with the ladies.”

Mack could have told her it wasn’t his sweet-talk that won the hearts of the women he dated, but there were some things a man simply didn’t say to his aunt. If she wanted to believe he owed his social life to being a nice guy, he was more than willing to let her. It might keep a few tart-tongued lectures at bay.

“It’s a game, for heaven’s sake,” pediatric oncologist Beth Browning declared, earning a thoroughly disgusted look from her male colleagues at Children’s Cancer Hospital. “A game played by grown men, who ought to be using their brains instead of their brawn—assuming of course that their brains haven’t been scrambled.”

“We’re talking about professional football,” radi
ologist Jason Morgan protested, as if she’d uttered blasphemy. “It’s about winning and losing. It’s a metaphor for good triumphing over evil.”

“I don’t hear the surgeons saying that when they’re patching up some kid’s broken bones after a Saturday game,” Beth said.

“Football injuries are a rite of passage,” Hal Watkins, the orthopedic physician, insisted.

“And a boon to your practice,” she noted.

“Hey,” he protested. “That’s not fair. Nobody wants to see a kid get hurt.”

“Then keep ’em off the field,” Beth suggested.

Jason looked shocked. “Then who’d grow up to play professional sports?”

“Oh, please, why does anyone have to do that?” Beth retorted, warming to the topic. She’d read about Mack Carlton and his rise from star quarterback to team owner. The man had a law degree, for goodness’ sakes. What a waste! Not that she was a huge admirer of lawyers, given the way their greediness had led to hikes in malpractice insurance.

“Because it’s football, for crying out loud,” Hal replied, as if the game were as essential for survival as air.

“Come on, guys. It’s a game. Nothing more, nothing less.” She turned to appeal to Peyton Lang, the hematologist, who’d been silent until now. “What do you think?”

He held up his hands. “You’re not drawing me into this one. I’m ambivalent. I don’t care that much about football, but I don’t have a problem if anyone else happens to find it entertaining.”

“Don’t you think it’s absurd that so much time,
money and energy is being wasted in pursuit of some stupid title?” Beth countered.

“The winner of the Super Bowl rules!” Jason insisted.

“Rules what?” Beth asked.

“The world.”

“I wasn’t aware they played football in most of the rest of the world. Let’s face it, in this town it’s about some rich guy who has enough money to buy the best players so he’ll have something to get excited about on Sunday afternoons,” she said scathingly. “If Mack Carlton had a life, if he had a family, if he had
anything
important to do, he wouldn’t be wasting his money on a football team.”

Rather than the indignant protests she’d expected, Beth was stunned when every man around her in the hospital cafeteria fell silent. Guilty looks were exchanged, the kind that said humiliation was just around the corner.

“You sure you don’t want to reconsider that remark?” Jason asked, giving her an odd, almost pleading look.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because I’m pretty sure you mentioned when we started this discussion that you’ve been trying to get Mack Carlton in here to visit with Tony Vitale,” Jason said. “The kid’s crazy about him. You thought meeting Mack might lift his spirits, since the chemo hasn’t been going that well.”

Her gaze narrowed. “So? This community-minded paragon of football virtue hasn’t bothered to respond to even one of my calls.”

Jason cleared his throat and gestured behind her.

Oh, hell, she thought as she slowly turned and stared
up at the tall, broad-shouldered man in the custom-tailored suit who was regarding her with a solemn, steady gaze. He had a faint scar under one eye, but that did nothing to mar his good looks. In fact, it merely added character to a perfectly sculpted face and drew attention to eyes so dark, so enigmatic, that she trembled under the impact. Everything about his appearance spoke of money, taste and arrogance, except maybe the hairstyle, which had a Harrison Ford kind of spikiness to it.

“Dr. Browning?” he inquired in an incredulous tone that suggested he’d been expecting someone older and definitely someone male.

Despite the unspoken but definitely implied insult, his quiet, smooth voice eased through Beth, then delivered a belated punch. She tried to gather her wits and to form the apology he deserved, but the words wouldn’t come. She’d never have deliberately insulted him to his face, even if she did have an abundance of scorn for men who wasted money on athletic pursuits that could be better spent on saving mankind.