Read The Player's Club: Scott Online

Authors: Cathy Yardley

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The Player's Club: Scott (5 page)

BOOK: The Player's Club: Scott
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Lincoln smiled slowly.

“We do.”

Scott processed that for a moment.

“Seriously,” Lincoln said, “if you decide you don’t want to join the Club, we’ll be okay with it, as long as you don’t tell anybody about tonight. We’ll probably be changing meeting locations anyway, we do all the time, so we’ll just vanish. If you don’t want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, that’s understandable. Hell, that’s
sane.

Scott felt his stomach start to unclench. He’d satisfied his curiosity, hadn’t he? He knew what they were meeting about. He discovered what he wanted to. Now, he could go back to living his life in relative quiet.

When was the last time you did something that made you feel as though your life was worth getting out of bed for?

Scott took a deep breath. From the open hatchway, he watched the sun start to peek over the horizon in shades of salmon and gray. The ground looked very, very far down.

“Last chance,” Lincoln said. “Just stay on board, and you’ll get dropped off at the airfield. Take one of the limos waiting there. It’ll get you home, no questions, no judgments.”

Scott waited a long, painful moment.

He pulled his goggles over his eyes.

“Let’s do this.”

He caught Lincoln’s quick grin, making the guy look ten years younger. Within a minute, he was hooked up on Lincoln’s harness. Lincoln told him what the jump would be like, but in Scott’s hyper state, he barely understood a word.

“Okay, here we go,” Lincoln said. “One…two…”

Scott held his hands out, feeling the rush of the wind.

“Three!”

With that, Scott found himself leaping out of the plane, with nothing but air whooshing between him and the ground.

 

 

IT HAD TAKEN AMANDA A FEW days from her brunch with Jackie to actually get the courage to ask Scott out to dinner. Now she stood in front of Scott’s apartment, wearing her “sexiest” outfit—a white, eyelet-trimmed tank top over a breezy, silvery skirt, with white sandals. It might not scream “have-wild-hot-sex-with-me,” but it was the best she could manage with what was in her wardrobe. She confessed she mostly had either business outfits, or comfy, grungy clothes.

If he took the bait, she thought anxiously, she might need some wardrobe improvements. Underwear—
lingerie,
she corrected herself—at the very least.

She knocked on his door gingerly. She’d decided the best approach would be to ask him out in the early afternoon, before he went out for the evening. She doubted he spent a lot of evenings home alone. She’d see if she could book some time with him during the week, like a Wednesday night or something. The guy couldn’t be busy every night of the week, could he?

There was no answer. She knocked again, feeling uneasy. Maybe he wasn’t home. Maybe he
was
home…and with, er, company.

This could be bad. Very bad.

Oh, God, what was I thinking?

She heard someone fumbling with locks, muttering incoherently. The door swung open wide. “Mmmmhello?”

She struggled not to gape. There was a trail of clothes from the door to the bedroom beyond. At least they were presumably only
his
clothes…

Then she got a good look at him and her mouth fell open. He was standing there, just wearing a pair of shorts. Did the guy not own a shirt? Not that she was complaining, but…
damn.

“Um, hi,” she said, biting her lip. His hair stuck out in cute angles, and his eyes were low-lidded, his skin flushed from sleep. He was good enough to eat—as if he’d just gotten out of bed, and would like nothing more than to go right back. She wouldn’t mind joining him.

What is he doing getting out of bed at one o’clock in the afternoon?
Even for a Sunday that seemed a little, well, unusual. On the other hand, not everyone was a morning person like herself.

She forced herself to focus.

“Hi,” he said, his voice husky and a touch warmer. He stretched a little, the motion doing nice things for his muscles. She knew she was staring. “Sorry. I was out really late last night. This morning, I mean.” He looked a tiny bit goofy as he sent her a crooked smile, and she couldn’t help but smile back. “What’s up?”

Her hormone levels were up, for one thing. And worse, they were throwing off her plan. “I, er, made a bunch of brownies, and I thought you might like some…”

She held out her bribe. Seeing his response to her hot cocoa, she knew he had a sweet tooth. She was armed with a dozen double-dark-chocolate brownies, with bits of macadamia nut toffee dotting the surface, interlaced with ribbons of caramel. She might not be sure of her own wiles, she thought with a small smile, but her sweets could seduce a chocoholic at ten paces.

“Brownies.”
He said the word reverently, his eyes going fully awake as he took in her offering. His stomach growled, and he laughed. “I haven’t eaten since last night. Those look amazing.”

She handed over the plate, and he quickly grabbed one off the top, taking a large, unapologetic bite. His moan of pleasure made her skin tingle.

“This is
incredible,
” he mumbled around a mouthful. “This is heaven wrapped in chocolate.”

She smirked. “You should taste my Thin Mint milk-chocolate mousse pie,” she murmured. “Trust me, it’s orgasmic.”

He paused, then grinned wickedly. “Don’t tease.”

The grin made her skin tingle and her stomach flutter pleasantly. She cleared her throat. “I was thinking of making one Wednesday night,” she said, hoping it sounded casual. “Maybe you could stop by. For a slice.”

There. If that wasn’t suggestive, then she’d swear off chocolate for a year.

“Really,” he drawled, taking a step closer to her, his dark brown eyes warming her. He was still smiling. “That sounds…nice.”

She shivered. How did the man manage to pack that much invitation in just one syllable? Especially one she’d always considered completely innocuous?

“What time should I drop by?”

She smiled, feeling relief and adrenaline pump through her bloodstream. “How about…”

Before she could set a time, his phone rang. He let it ring once, twice, still staring at her. Then he cursed softly, as if he remembered something. “Wait a sec. I’ll be right back.”

He dashed inside his apartment, leaving her at the open door. She could hear his voice, saying a slightly grumpy, “Hello?”

She waited, her whole body alight. This could work. She’d lay a trap with chocolate, and once she got him in her apartment…

What was she supposed to do then?

She gulped. This required a little more planning. Jackie probably had a risqué idea or two to try out. At least she had a few days to…

“I wasn’t expecting you to call me so soon.” Scott’s surprised tone broke through her mini-mental-panic-attack, accentuated by the fact that he’d deliberately lowered his voice. It was so strange to hear, she suddenly strained to catch what he was saying.

“What? When?” he said, sounding obviously surprised. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ve got the address. Am I supposed to bring anything?” A long pause. “Okay. I’ll be there. And I’ll clear my plans.” Another long pause. “Yeah, I remember the rules. I won’t tell anyone.”

He remembered the rules? She frowned, puzzled. What rules? And why did he suddenly sound so secretive?

He came back to the door without the brownies, looking a little sheepish. “Um, sorry about that.”

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“What? Yes. Sure.”

He wouldn’t look at her, and he was shifting his weight from foot to foot. She wasn’t a master criminologist or anything, but was he hiding something?

“Well, anyway…how about seven?”

“How about seven what?” he repeated dumbly.

She felt the blush creeping over her cheeks as embarrassment kicked her squarely in the ass. “Um, seven o’clock Wednesday?” she said, hating the now-blank look on his face. “For the Thin Mint chocolate mousse pie…?”

“Oh.
Oh,
” he said, and now he looked embarrassed. “Um…something’s come up.”

“Oh,” she echoed, hoping that she didn’t look as disappointed as she felt.

“Oh, hey, don’t take it that way,” he said quickly, and to her utter chagrin she realized she probably looked even more disappointed than she thought. “I really did want to go. Do, I mean.”

“Maybe we could reschedule,” she muttered, feeling masochistic.

He sighed. “I would like that, I really would,” he said. “But…”

“But.” She cut him off. “Trust me, that’s explanation enough. Okay! Enjoy the brownies, I’ll see you around.”

She turned to flee, to bury her mortification in hot chocolate…heavily doctored with Godiva liquor, or maybe some Bacardi. But before she could get two steps away, his hand was on her arm, catching her. Stopping her.

“I mean it,” he said, and she could hear the sincerity, see the heat and truth in his eyes. He stroked her arm as he spoke, and she shivered. “I can’t remember the last time I had an invitation I’d like more than a slice of your pie.”

His voice was so deep, the words so warm that she reveled in it. That is, until her mind put together the double entendre, and her eyes widened to the size of teacups.

He apparently did the verbal math at about the same time. “Whoa. I didn’t mean it
that
way,” he quickly clarified. “I mean, I sort of… Oh, crap. I am screwing this up.”

She laughed. “Actually, it was pretty smooth, all things considered. Sort of crept up on me.”

“Well, normally I take a woman to dinner first, before moving up to the nudge-nudge-wink-wink stuff,” he said, and she couldn’t help but giggle. “The bottom line is, I like you, and I’d love to spend time with you.”

She nodded, waiting.

“But this week is turning out to be sort of crazy,” he said, dropping his hand from her arm. “I’m sort of mixed up in this…” He paused. “I’ve got a…” He stopped, looking frustrated. “My life has gotten a little complicated recently.”

“Ohh-kay,” she said slowly.
What the heck does that mean?

“So my schedule sort of got filled up,” he completed, looking miserable. “For…er, the foreseeable future.”

“Oh.” She stiffened. “Okay.”

“But I really do like you.”

“Sure.”
Can I just slink away now?

He ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

She shrugged. “I…”

He leaned down and kissed her.

She froze in shock. Then after a few seconds, her body reacted instinctively, ignoring her paralyzed mind. She kissed him back.

Not surprisingly, he tasted like chocolate and caramel and macadamia toffee. He held her tightly, and she smoothed her palms along his bare chest, loving the feel of all that heated skin beneath her fingertips.

The kiss was meant to prove a point, she felt sure. She wasn’t sure what point exactly, nor did she care. As long as this chocolate kiss continued, he could be proving the theory of relativity and she’d just go ahead and let him.

His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her flush against him, and she let out the tiniest moan of pleasure.

Just like that, he released her, looking dazed. “Whoa. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, her voice breathless.

“I just… I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“Oh?” She had no idea what the right idea was at this point.

“So, I guess I’ll see you.” He blinked, then shook his head. “Later. I mean, around.”

With that, he retreated into his apartment and shut the door, leaving her standing there, completely confused.

BOOK: The Player's Club: Scott
7.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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