Читать книгу Forward Pass - Desiree Holt - Страница 8

Shay couldn’t stop looking at Joe, at his broad shoulders and hard chest with its scattering of dark curls. Water ran in rivulets over his flat stomach and his lean hips, his long legs and his—Ohmigod!—erection that exceeded even the most outrageous expectations. Whatever she’d imagined in her dreams, the reality was way beyond it.

All these years she’d nursed her secret feelings for him, all the time she’d lusted after him as a teenager, all her erotic fantasies he’d starred in—nothing ever came close to this incredible reality. She wanted to run her hands over those six-pack abs and feel the hard muscle beneath the skin. Let her fingers drift through the dark hair on his chest. Maybe let her fingertips glide over his flat male nipples. Lick the few drops of water still glistening on his shoulders.

Breathe, Shay. Slow, deep breaths.

She was enchanted by the sight of him, aching for him in every hot place in her body.

He’s not the first naked man you’ve ever seen.

But this was Joe Reilly! In all his glorious nudity. And glorious it was indeed. Her breath caught in her throat and her nipples hardened of their own free will. She felt the thrumming of the pulse in her cunt and moisture pooled in her panties. In fact, her entire body was doing a happy dance.

Oh. My. God.

Joe’s low laugh plucked at her nerve endings and vibrated through her body, shaking her out of her erotic reverie.

“Seen enough? Think I could get a towel now?”

The heat of embarrassment suffused Shay’s face and she backed away, turning so fast she almost bumped into the wall.

“Get some clothes on. Please.” She dragged in a breath. “I’ll be in the living room. And do it now,” she snapped.

Pacing, hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans, she scrabbled for the edges of her control. Her mind whirled, totally unsettled, as the implications of this situation peppered her. Joe Reilly. Here. In this house. Just the two of them. Alone. Was Hank crazy?

Maybe. He’d probably given less than two seconds of thought to it, off there in the wilds of Wyoming as he was. Had it even occurred to him she might not want to play housemates with a man who’d treated her all her life as if she were his kid sister?

This was ridiculous. She was an adult. No big deal.

Yeah, it was a big deal. Because this was Joe, the secret hero of every one of her dreams since she was eight years old.

Obviously, the car in the driveway belonged to him. Good thing he’d parked by the half of the garage that held Hank’s car. Like her, Hank always cabbed to the airport and back.

“Usually women are telling me to take my clothes off.” The deep voice behind her had a teasing edge to it. “This is a novelty.”

She whirled around to find him inches away from her. It was obvious he’d given drying off a quick pass. His dark hair curled from the dampness of the shower and tiny drops of water still snaked down his chest, drawing a path toward the waistband of his jeans. Her gaze dropped automatically to his crotch, and she forced herself to jerk it away.

Not. Good.

“There’s nothing funny about this. At all.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “Just what in the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

He grinned and she noted he still had the tiny dimple at the left corner of his mouth. A very sexy dimple. It just wasn’t fair. No man should be this downright appealing, especially when she wanted desperately to be angry with him.

“Simmer down, squirt.” He chuckled. “There’s a simple explanation.”

“Don’t call me squirt.” She spat the words out through clenched teeth. “I’m not a kid any more, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

His midnight-black eyes took a slow tour of her from the red ball cap on her head to her sneaker-clad feet. Heat surged through her as if he was undressing her with his eyes and she wanted to cross her arms over her chest.

“Oh, I noticed. Believe me. I’d say you’ve grown up a whole lot.” He actually had the audacity to wink. “So what are you doing here?”

Her jaw dropped. “What am I doing here? That’s a lot of nerve coming from you. I live here. What are you doing here?”

“You live here?” His eyes widened. “I thought you lived in New York.”

“I moved back about four months ago. Hank’s giving me house room while I take my time looking for a place of my own.”

“Well, damn.” He scratched his head. “Old Hank didn’t mention that when he said I could crash here for a few days.”

“Are you kidding me?” She was going to kill her brother the minute she laid eyes on him. “I can’t believe he did this. What’s wrong with a hotel?”

Joe frowned. “That’s not very hospitable of you. Hank told me to make myself at home. Much better than a hotel.”

Yes, killing was definitely on the agenda. Except she was torn between wanting to throw Joe out of the house or throw herself at him bodily. After all these years, at the very moment she’d decided to pack him into the memory closet and move forward, here he was. Control, she told herself. She had to stay in control and not get any wild ideas. The time for that was long past.

Anyway, why would he be interested in her? He had a gazillion women rotating in and out of his bed. He still saw her as a kid, so she’d better not get any wild ideas.

“Look.” Shay took a step backward. Joe had moved way too close into her personal space and his clean male scent was making her crazy. “Hank should have checked with me first. I’m sorry, this is just not going to work.”

“I don’t know why not.” He moved closer again. “You’ve got plenty of room here. Anyway, I have things to take care of so we’ll probably hardly see each other.”

“What kind of things?”

He shrugged. “Just business.”

“Fine. Whatever. It’s not as if I care.” Shay threw up her hands. “I’m going to my room to unpack. Do us both a favor and find a hotel room.” She turned to look at him. “And get your stuff out of my bathroom.”

One corner of his mouth turned up in a half grin. Shay did her best to ignore the dimple winking next to it.

“But isn’t this the bathroom for these two bedrooms to share?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then I’m sure this is what Hank meant for me to do. I promise I won’t get into your cosmetics. They probably aren’t my skin tone, anyway.”

“You’re trying to drive me crazy, right?”

His rich, low laugh made the pulse between her thighs throb like a drum. “Would I do that?”

She started to roll her suitcase out of the room as if everything was settled when strong male fingers closed over her arm.

“Hold on just a minute. That cap. I’ve seen that cap before.”

“My cap?” She frowned. “I doubt it. I’ll bet there’s a million red caps out there and this one is one of a kind.”

She tried to pull away but Joe’s grip on her was firm.

“But that’s a distinctive red.” He frowned. “Let’s see. You’re just getting home from out of town. You flew in from New York. Not too many flights from there to here landing at this time. I don’t have to be too bright to think you might be the idiot who tossed her drink all over me on the plane.”

Her stomach plummeted. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

He moved to block her path. “I don’t think so.” He reached behind her head and tugged on her ponytail. “I definitely think you’re the culprit. I should make you pay for my dry cleaning.”

“Fine. Whatever.” She had to get away from him. His nearness was driving her nuts and his touch sent threads of heat to various parts of her body. “Send me the bill.”

He tipped her chin up with one finger. When his eyes looked directly into hers, everything in her body went liquid. All her damn danger signs were flashing. He was just playing with her, nothing more. Just being Joe. She needed to remember that.

“I’d say it entitles me to guest privileges here, too. Don’t you agree?”

He wasn’t going to leave. That much was obvious.

“I said I’d pay for the damn dry cleaning. Just leave the stuff on the counter in the utility room.”

“I think that’s worth a lot more than just paying a bill,” he repeated. “Even more than house privileges. I should get special privileges. Like maybe having you cook my dinner, too.” Laughter lurked in his eyes.

“In your dreams,” she snapped. She knew he was yanking her chain, and he was doing a good job of it. Somehow she would find a way to get him out of the house while she still had her wits about her. Good thing she was more than over Joe Reilly. If only every one of her nerve endings didn’t sizzle when he was within two feet of her.

He chuckled, obviously enjoying himself. “Maybe I can think of a few more things to add to the list.”

“Forget it. Not happening.” She pushed past him, tugging her suitcase. “You clean up after yourself and don’t leave a mess in the kitchen.” At the door to her bedroom she looked back at him.

“Just be sure to stay out of my way. And if you insist on sharing the bathroom you’d damn well better keep it clean. House rules. I don’t even want to see a razor lying on the sink.”

“Wow. Stiff rules.” He laughed again. “I’ll do my best not to break any of them.”

Shay slammed the door to her bedroom and threw herself on her bed. Great. Just freaking great. She didn’t have enough stress in her life. Now she was forced to deal with Joe Reilly as a temporary housemate. Lying there with her arm over her eyes, something else occurred to her. She jumped up, yanked open the door, and stormed into the living room. Joe, unfortunately, was not there. She found him in the room he was using, pulling a shirt out of a suitcase.

Shay stopped, momentarily mesmerized by the sight of his solid chest with its dusting of dark hair. Again her pulse thrummed and the blood heated in her veins. She scrubbed at her cheeks that suddenly felt too hot.

Please don’t let him notice.

“Come right in,” he teased, slipping the soft, collared shirt over his head. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“How long?” she demanded.

He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s an ambiguous question. How long what?”

“Will you be here, damn it. How long?”

That sexy laugh rumbled out again. “Ready to toss me out so soon?”

She fisted her hands. “I just want to know when you plan to leave.”

He shrugged. “When I finish my business. Hank said no rush.”

“Argh!” She stamped her foot, then immediately regretted it. He’d never see her as a woman if she kept acting like a child. Oh, wait. He’d never see her that way at all. She let out a calming breath. “So? When?”

The grin disappeared from his face.

“Shay, is there some reason you don’t want me here? I thought we were friends.”

“Friends?” she squeaked. “What makes you say that? You never treated me as anything but Hank’s pain-in-the-ass little sister. We were never friends. And it’s too late to start now. Trust me.”

The look he gave her ignited every space in her body. The air around them crackled with sudden, unexpected sexual energy and the heat that flared in his eyes shocked her. Holy hell. She swallowed hard and sent a silent message to her body to behave. Now, after so long, was not the time to respond to Joe’s masculine sexuality. Actually, for her sanity, the time would be—never.

“So what’s the answer?” she persisted, ignoring the hungry look Joe suddenly gave her.

“The answer,” he drawled, “is I don’t know. Preseason’s not for a couple more months. That gives me time before I have to be back to get ready for the show. I have some things to take care of here.” His gaze seemed to bore into her. “Maybe as long as I’m around we can try to be…friends.”

“Friends.”

His gaze took a leisurely tour of her body again, as if mentally cataloging each of her assets. It took every bit of self-control to tear her eyes away, but the new Shay wasn’t going to be tempted.

“I don’t think so.” She frowned. “Let’s just try to stay out of each other’s way. Oh. And one more thing. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring any of your women here.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “My women?”

“Yeah. You know. Your usual harem. By the way, if your phone still has Bad Company’s Feel Like Makin’ Love as a ringtone, put it on mute.”

A smile threatened again. “You don’t like the song?”

“Well, it’s certainly appropriate for your lifestyle, I’ll say that.”

His face sobered. “Shay—”

“I’m sure your salary’s plenty big,” she interrupted. “You can spring for a hotel room when the need arises.” Under her breath she muttered, “Which will probably be about every night.”

“What did you say?” he demanded.

“I said you probably won’t be sleeping here much.”

“That’s a low blow.” She heard the edge of anger in his voice. “Is that how you think of me? Really?”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Before he could say anything else, she headed back to her room and slammed the door again. She knew she was being childish. Juvenile. But holy hell. Joe Reilly in her space for a whole week. Maybe more. How was she supposed to handle that?

* * * *

Joe stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, now clear of the earlier steam from his shower. Not bad-looking, he told himself. A few more lines in his face and just a hint of gray in the hair. The thing bothering him, however, was the lust flaring in his eyes, lust put there by the little go-round with Shay Beckham.

The image he’d carried with him from the last time he’d seen her, however brief the contact, was spot-on. Something he’d wanted to chalk up to an aberration on his part. An overactive imagination.

Hank had been in New York, staying with his sister for a couple of days, and Joe drove into the city to have dinner with him. When Shay opened the door and he’d looked at her, his system had gone into full-blown shock. Gone was the skinny kid and the developing teenager. In their place was a ripe, mature woman who made the spit dry up in his mouth and his cock try to urge him to do things strictly off-limits.

Then he saw her today and bam! The vision slammed into him again. Even tired and cranky, with no makeup and dressed down in jeans and a sweatshirt, she made his body sit up and take notice. His cock was already sending him a message and his balls ached like crazy.

This was Shay. Hank’s baby sister. The skinny little kid who used to stick to them like gum to a shoe. She wore a big Keep Away sign.

As a teenager, having a little kid hero-worship him stroked his ego. It tickled him to have his best friend’s sister hang out with him and Hank and talk football, unless of course there were females around. Then he’d made sure to let her know she was a pain in the ass.

He cringed now as thoughts from the past bounced around in his brain, memories of the dismissive way he’d always treated her. There was no dismissing her now. This Shay was a luscious, desirable woman and the way his body responded to her froze every nerve with shock. If she were anyone else, he’d already be figuring out a way to get her out of her clothes and horizontal.

“I said you probably won’t be sleeping here much.”

Her barbed words cut deeply. To think Shay still saw him the same way.

He’d always thought of himself as a man who loved women. Who was lucky women loved him. He enjoyed the hell out of them. For a lot of years he’d been jazzed by the dating game. It was heady stuff to be envied by others for a steady string of gorgeous women and certainly fed his ego. All those years he’d never given a thought to how people saw him. He rocked it on the field and reaped the benefits of his success with the female population.

Still, it had stunned him to suddenly realize he was tired of the eternal conga line of women in and out of his life. What was once his juice had suddenly became old hat.

Things had changed so much in the past five years. He was in a much different place. As his life continued to evolve, so did the things he wanted from it. Like settling down. Getting married.

What he really needed was a woman like Shay.

Joe blinked and looked around, as if someone had actually spoken the words out loud. Where in hell did that thought come from? Again he reminded himself that she was off-limits to him. Right, right, right. Maybe he could tattoo it on his brain. Even thinking of her that way was off-limits. He needed to keep telling himself that.

Okay, time to get dressed and find someplace to eat. Maybe he’d pick up a pizza and bring it back. Or Chinese food. Then early to bed. And sleep, if he could do it with Shay only a few feet away from him.

He wondered what she’d say if she knew about the work he did with kids? With teenagers? Obviously her entire image of him was crafted from those wild years and the accompanying tabloid coverage. But so much had changed. He had changed. Did she ever watch his television show? If so, what did she think of it?

Fuck, Reilly. Enough. Get your head out of your ass. Once more, idiot. She’s Hank’s baby sister. It would be nice if she liked him but it wouldn’t kill him if she didn’t.

He hoped.

Heading toward the front door, he bumped into the woman in question coming out of the kitchen. In place of her travel outfit, she now wore a T-shirt and skimpy shorts and was carrying a glass of water. When they bumped, her hand jiggled, spilling drops from the glass on both of them.

“Crap.” She shook her hand to rid it of the moisture.

“I already showered,” he teased. “Remember? You saw me?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll say it.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry. And I’m clumsy. Shoot me.”

She hurried into the kitchen for a paper towel, bright red staining her cheeks. Joe swallowed a smile when she busied herself blotting his shirt, frowning as she did so.

“There.” She stepped back and studied his chest. “I think you’re good to go.” She crumpled up the paper towel. “Wherever you’re going.”

“Shay.” He cupped her elbows and kept his voice low and even. Steady. Why did he get the impression he spooked her? He’d have to think about that. “It’s okay. It’s just a shirt. And it’s washable. Got it?”

“Yes.” She still wouldn’t look at him. “I, um, think I’ll just go back into my room.”

Damn!

“Wait.” He didn’t want her to retreat, even though he knew he should just leave it alone. Especially since—shock!—just touching her made him so horny he was afraid his cock would strangle itself.

“I’m going to my room, Joe.” Why did she refuse to look at him?.

“Wait. I, um, was going to head out for some dinner. Want to join me?”

She looked down at her outfit and then raised her eyes to him, a tiny smile teasing her mouth. Finally. “Where are we dining? Goodwill?”

“You know what? I don’t think I’m in the mood for a restaurant. How about if I order a pizza delivered? You can choose the toppings,” he coaxed.

What the hell was he doing? He needed to put space between them until he figured out what was happening here. Preferably several city blocks.

“Why do you want to eat with me?”

Of course he didn’t have a sensible answer for her. He just knew it was important to get her to say yes.

“Um, because I’m hungry and you’re hungry so, food together?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “There’s a special on tonight about Joe Montana and I plan to watch it.” She waved her hand at the living room. “In there, on the big-screen television.”

He chuckled. “Really? Your big hero? The man you raved about incessantly when you were younger? Okay, I think I can handle that.” He winked. “Although we both know I’ve got him beat in all categories.”

“In ego, maybe.” She tilted her head and looked up at him again. “You sure you want to do this? Buy a pizza and share it with me?”

“Sure, kid. It will be like old times. Only without Hank. We’ll just eat his share.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Was that disappointment on her face, or was he just imagining it? What did it mean? Did she regret accepting his invite, or did she read something more into it? Well, regret just wouldn’t work. This pizza thing was just damn stupid if he wanted to put space between them. Where was his brain when he needed it to work?

“I’ll call it in,” she told him. “I have the number on speed dial.”

“You and Hank don’t do much cooking?”

“Hardly.” She fetched her smart phone from her room and punched in the number, snapping out her order. “Lots of pepperoni and mushrooms,” she warned Joe when she hung up.

“Yeah?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I would have thought with all those years in New York you’d want pineapple chunks and chicken.”

“Please,” she mocked. “Do I look like I’d eat designer pizza?”

He watched her refill the water glass and take a long drink from it. The play of muscles in her throat as she swallowed fascinated him, as did the shift of fabric over her breasts when she lifted her arm. He noted the outline of her nipples beneath the flimsy T-shirt, a sure sign whatever was scratching at him was doing the same to her. His palms itched to cup those mounds and he curled his fingers to keep from reaching out to her.

Again the devil in his head, the really horny one, reminded him this was Shay. Hank’s baby sister. He needed to keep repeating it to himself. What the fuck was wrong with him? Now here she was. In this house. With him. Alone. And his brain and his dick seemed to be getting different messages.

Shit!

“Hello?” A hand waved in front of his face. “Anyone in there?”

“What? Oh, sorry.” Damn. He’d just spaced out. He hoped drool wasn’t running down his face. “Late hours catching up with me.”

“Maybe you should cut back on that list of women.”

Again with the women.

“Shay, look at me. Put down your empty glass and turn around to me.”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped.

“Please turn around and look at me. Okay?”

She set the glass in the sink and turned slowly, leaning back against the counter. Unfortunately when she did it stretched the T-shirt even more against her nicely rounded breasts and her nipples that reminded him of the gumdrops he loved. He forcibly restrained himself from smacking his lips.

“What?” The word was filled with belligerence.

“We haven’t seen each other much in a lot of years. Many, many, many years.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Did it ever occur to you I might have changed? Maybe I might not be the guy with the overload of testosterone anymore?”

She barked a laugh. “Right.”

“Maybe I’m a lot more like Joe Montana than you think, him who you so revere.”

“Hardly.” Was it possible for someone shorter than him to look down her nose at him? “He was never Mr. Playboy with a gaggle of females hanging off his arm. He was always business. Nothing more.”

In two strides, he was in front of her, his fingers wrapped gently around her upper arms. She tensed immediately and her lips thinned. He eased his hold, but he didn’t back away.

“I may not be Montana but I’m not the person you think I am, either. And somehow I’m going to make you see the truth of it while we’re here together.”

He was close enough to her now he could feel the outline of her body. The way her eyes widened, he knew she could also feel his, including his raging hard-on. Faint pink crept up her cheeks and he moved an inch or two backward. The air between them, though, still crackled with shockingly unexpected sexual energy.

“So.” Her eyes were still glued to his. “Exactly how were you planning to do that?”

Fuzz was wrapped around his brain, the effect of being this close to her. “What? Do what?”

She gave a breathy little laugh. “Make me see how different you are now.”

As he was digging in his woolly brain for an answer, the doorbell rang. Shay pressed her hands against his chest and pushed.

“I think the pizza’s here. You need to get your wallet out.”

Pizza. Wallet. Yeah.

He took another step back and headed for the door. Pizza. What he needed more than food, though, was another shower. A cold one.

“Bring the food in here,” Shay hollered from the living room.

When he put the box down on the coffee table he saw plates and glasses already set out, and—hallelujah!—two ice cold bottles of beer.

“Can’t watch Joe without beer,” she joked.

“Which Joe?”

“Ha!” She busied herself dishing out the pizza. “The real one, of course.”

* * * *

Why did he have to sit this close to her? His very nearness panicked her, eroded her self-control. She’d grasped at the Joe Montana thing like a lifeline, hoping to create a barrier between them. Change the feel of whatever it was buzzing in the air between them.

Needing distance, Shay had deliberately taken a seat at the far end of the couch, leaving the rest of it for Joe to stretch out. Instead he plunked himself down right next to her, sending her body temperature spiking. This was a bad idea. Very, very, very bad. She should have turned down Joe’s invitation and sent him out to eat. Someplace. Anyplace. And worn a caftan that covered her from neck to toes to disguise her body’s automatic reaction. It seemed not even Joe Montana could do anything about her reaction. How pathetic was that?

Where were all her good intentions, the resolutions she’d made in the cab ride from the airport? Here she was sharing a house with Joe Reilly, with temptation rapping on the door. It just wasn’t fair. If Hank were here, she’d kick his ass for putting her in this position. She wasn’t a saint, for God’s sake.

Damn him, anyway.

“So what made you move back from New York?” Joe asked, startling her out of her reverie. “I thought you really liked it there.”

She realized she was staring at him and gave herself a mental shake, shrugged and swallowed a bite of pizza. “It got old after a while.” And the men sucked.

Joe cocked an eyebrow. “Hank mentioned you were doing gangbusters in your design job. Told me you were excited about it.”

She nodded. “I was. I still am. I enjoy creating the designs, making someone’s idea come to life.”

“But?”

She took a sip of beer. “But I decided I liked San Antonio better. And my boss made me a great offer. I work from here and head into the city about every six weeks for meetings. Thus the plane ride today.”

The look he gave her was filled with curiosity. “I can’t believe you’re happier here away from the glitz and glamour of the Big Apple.”

“Yeah?” She sniffed. “Maybe you never noticed, I’m not exactly a glitz-and-glamour kind of woman. I love San Antonio. This way I get the best of both worlds.”

His gaze poured over her like warm melted chocolate. “There wouldn’t be some man in the mix, would there? I’d be very upset if someone messed with my girl.”

“Your girl?” She chuffed. “One, I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s. Two, I’m not a girl any more. And three, my private life is none of your business.”

“No?” He picked up another slice of pizza, bit off a piece, and chewed thoughtfully. “Maybe it should be. Hank not being here and all, I should probably make sure you’re doing okay. You know, kind of be your guardian.”

“My guardian? Are you for real?” Shay barked a laugh. “Hank doesn’t meddle in my business. You don’t need to, either. Remember, I’m not a kid who needs her nose wiped.”

He reached out and cupped her chin with one of his large warm hands—quarterback’s hands—and looked straight into her eyes. The look in his eyes stunned her. He was actually looking at her as a female. Desirable, even. His touch sent delicious shivers racing over her skin and the look in his eyes made her body want things that were impossible with this man. She needed to pull away for her own salvation but she couldn’t seem to make herself do it.

“No.” His voice was hot and slow, plucking at her nerve endings. “You are definitely not a kid. Not anymore.”

Shay wanted to tell him not to touch her but those fingers were like electric wands sending jolts through her system. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. When he reached for a napkin and dabbed at her lower lip, she wanted to bite him instead of the food.

“A little sauce.” His mouth turned up in a lazy smile. “Wouldn’t want Montana to see it, right?”

Montana.

The program.

Right.

When she turned her head, he was forced to move his hand. She picked up the remote and clicked on the television. “It’s about time for the special on Joe, so, no talking, please.”

For the first time she had to work to concentrate on a program about her hero. Video of him played out on the screen, shots of him tossing his unbelievably accurate passes to his favorite receiver, Jerry Rice. Of the celebrations following each of his four Super Bowl victories. Of his cool head under fire as the ultimate field general.

To her dismay she found her mind wandering to the Joe sitting next to her, all six foot four of his powerful masculinity. She was more acutely aware of him than she could remember. She couldn’t help stealing glances at his very male body next to her, long legs stretched out to the coffee table, muscles flexing in his thighs every time he shifted. Whatever he’d splashed on his body after his shower was driving her nuts, too. The clean woodsy male scent she always associated with him drifted across her nose and seemed to surround her. Tantalizing her.

No, no, no. This was all wrong. Control, she reminded herself. Control, control, control. She could do it.

“—don’t you think?”

“Huh? What?” Embarrassed, Shay realized she’d zoned out and Joe was saying something to her.

His sexy laugh rumbled through her. “I guess old Joe really does have you hypnotized. You haven’t heard a word I said, have you?”

“Um, sorry.” She picked up her bottle of beer. “You know how I block everything out when my hero is on the screen. What did you say?”

“Not important.” He recrossed his legs at the ankle. “So, still got the love affair going on with Joe, huh?”

“Hard not to. He’s the ultimate.”

Joe was silent for a long moment, holding a paper plate with another slice of pizza on it.

“Question,” he said at last. “Did you ever, you know, see any of my games? Look at my stats?”

“Why, Joe Reilly.” She couldn’t help laughing. “Are you jealous of Joe Montana?”

“Of course not. Just curious.” He nodded at the screen. “But I measured up pretty good against him. Just sayin’.”

Surely her ravings about Montana never bothered him. He was an icon in his own right. No, wait. Only his ego was affected, right? Because she was sure Joe Reilly didn’t give a rat’s ass if she idolized him or not. All those women more than did it for him.

The program ended and the silence between them was suddenly thick enough to touch.

Shay cleared her throat. “I’m going to clean this up and then do some reading.”

“Here. I’ll give you a hand.” He sat up and reached for the empty pizza box at the same moment she did, and their heads collided.

“Ouch!” Shay rubbed her forehead.

“Oh. Sorry. Here, let me look at it.”

Joe cupped her face and turned her head so he could see where they’d bumped. Suddenly the air around them changed. Her heartbeat ratcheted up at the hunger that flared in his eyes and her breath stalled in her throat.

For a very long moment neither of them moved. Maybe it was curiosity to finally find out what it would be like to kiss him. Maybe it was the simmering heat of the moment. Whatever it was, she didn’t pull away. So slow the movement was barely detectible, Joe leaned closer and touched his mouth to hers. His lips were cool yet their contact scorched her, heat sizzling through her body clear to her toes. His lean fingers cradled her cheeks with a touch light enough that a whisper of wind would have brushed them away yet Shay was unable to move, afraid to breathe. Every brain cell froze and her heart was beating hard enough she could hear it pounding in her ears.

When Joe’s tongue came out to trace the seam of her mouth, everything in her body went liquid. Her pussy throbbed, her nipples sprang to life, and a desperate hunger gripped her. The soft glide of his tongue was like the touch of velvet, coaxing her to open for him, to accept him. When he slid it between her lips she welcomed it, opening wider for him and letting her own tongue begin a dance with his.

All her life she’d wondered what kissing Joe Reilly would be like. The reality was so much better than anything she’d imagined.

They stayed that way for what seemed forever, exploring each other’s mouths, tasting, licking. The scent of his cologne still tantalized her nostrils and invaded her senses. Everything faded away for Shay except this incredibly sensuous contact. This was not a voracious kiss but a testing. A sexy little dance where neither partner was sure who would lead. As his tongue swept in slow glides, touching sensitive nerves, she hummed with pleasure and explored his taste the same way. Back and forth, an erotic dance that needed no music.

When Joe finally lifted his head enough to break the contact, he stared at her, shock written on his face. Shay locked her gaze with his. Who should speak first? What should she say? What could she say? She’d just exchanged a totally erotic kiss with Joe Reilly.

Joe Reilly!

He still cradled her cheeks in his warm palms, as if unable to let her go. Still neither of them moved or spoke.

Shay was trying to unscramble her brains when Joe dipped his head again and this time there was nothing light or gentle about the kiss. It was a predator’s kiss, ravenous and claiming. His tongue was a slither of flame burning the inside of her mouth everywhere it touched. He didn’t wait for her to offer her own tongue as she’d done before. Instead, he tugged it with his teeth and closed his lips around it, sucking it hard.

He continued to cradle her face, using strong hands to tilt her head this way and that to give himself a better angle. His body, hard and muscular, pressed against hers until she was lying back against the cushions. One lean, jeans-clad thigh insinuated itself between hers, nudging against her quivering pussy through her skimpy shorts.

Her responses were primal, an explosion of the need that had been building for years.

One of his hands slipped down to her arm, then eased beneath her T-shirt. His warm palm cupped one breast, his thumb rasping over the hardened tip. The heat of his body permeated hers, surrounded it. A moan floated in the air and she wasn’t sure whose it was, exactly.

He trailed his lips across her cheek and down the length of her neck. She ran her hands along the hard muscles of his back down to his hips, pulling him more tightly against her. When she arched to him, he took little nips, then soothed the skin with his tongue. Every one of her nerves was firing, her body so hot she was sure she would instantly combust.

He licked the hollow of her throat where her pulse fluttered wildly.

More. I want more.

She dragged his shirt free of his jeans, yanking it over his head, and touched his naked skin with her fingers. His chest was just as hard as she’d imagined, and the curls of hair covering it just as soft and silky. Touching him was like sticking her finger in an electric socket.

She felt his hands grasp her own shirt, pulling it loose.

“Lift up,” he whispered and tugged the shirt over her head.

Next to go was her bra and then his mouth was on her, his lips closing tightly over a beaded nipple. Streaks of high voltage raced to her core as he fed on her like a man with an insatiable appetite. A man in the grip of unquenchable desire. She tried to touch him everywhere, suddenly frantic with need. He sucked and nibbled, the tug of his mouth reaching way down to her pussy.

Her brain melted. With his hot mouth back on hers, feeding impatiently, she was only vaguely aware of the movement of his hands everywhere on her body. Sliding into her shorts and cupping her ass, then easing around to find her very, very wet slit. When he slid two fingers inside her, she clamped down on him and rocked her hips, focused only on satisfying the need raging through her.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his lips at her ear. “God, Shay, you are so hot you’re burning my fingers.”

He moved against her, the heat of his body surrounding her. The hair on his chest brushed erotically against her naked skin as he shifted position slightly. He licked the shell of her ear and traced the line with his tongue. Her responses were primal, raw, uncontrollable. Shivers raced along her spine. She lost all sense of time and place, her entire being focused on the unexpected climax swirling up through her body. It had been such a long time, and her body was so eager, and this man seemed to unlock every one of her secret places.

“Let go.” His voice was raw and urgent. “Let go for me.”

He pressed his thumb to her clit and as if a button opened a magic door, she exploded. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled herself as tight to his touch as she could and rode his hand like a wild horse. When the last spasm subsided, when the last tremor had rippled through her body, she lay there gasping, her heart galloping and her breathing ragged. When she opened her eyes at last, Joe’s face was barely a millimeter away from hers, his eyes still burning with lust.

And then…

Reality slammed into her. Ice water dumped all over her couldn’t have shocked her more. What the hell had she done here? Allowed to happen?

No, no, no, no, no. Big mistake. Huge mistake.

She pushed at him, trying to move him away from her body. She could tell when his brain snapped into focus again and the look of desire was replaced by shock.

Abruptly he sat up, shaking his head. “Jesus. Shay, I—”

“Don’t say a word. Not one word.” If he tried to apologize, she might have to kill him.

“Listen, I don’t know what—”

“Shut up, Joe. I mean it. Just shut up.”

She was hot and cold by turns, mortified and embarrassed by what happened. By what she’d allowed to happen.

No more hiding your feelings now, Shay, the ones you were so sure you’d buried.

She scrabbled around for her T-shirt and bra, clutched them to her, and pushed herself off the couch. If she could have somehow melted into the floor she would have. She could tell he was already regretting what happened and she just didn’t want to listen to it. Ignoring the debris from their dinner, she raced to her bedroom and slammed the door.

She’d never be able to face him again. What in God’s name must he be thinking?

* * * *

Joe was actually doing his best not to think. His big brain seemed to have vaporized and his little brain was screaming orders at him. Speaking of his little brain, he was rock hard to the point if he bumped into anything he was afraid his dick would break off and fall to the floor. Maybe it would be best since it seemed intent on dragging him into such trouble.

What the hell was wrong with him? This was Hank’s baby sister. The squirt. The tagalong.

Not any more, hotshot.

That was damn sure. Tonight he’d been seized with the unexpected desire to lick her all over. Because this Shay was a very sexy woman who turned him on full blast. And tempted him. Hell, temptation didn’t even begin to describe her. He only wanted one tiny taste of her. A little something to satisfy him after he’d carried the image of a mature Shay in his mind for so long. Well, he damn sure got his taste. What was the matter with him? Hank would kill him when he found out.

Maybe Shay wouldn’t tell him.

As he carried the empty pizza box, the plates, and bottles into the kitchen, he tried telling himself it would be okay. He’d find a way to make it so. He’d apologize to her.

No, not an apology. No matter how he worded it she’d take it wrong. What was he apologizing for, anyway? The fact he was hot as a pistol for her or the fact he’d acted on it? Would she be insulted? Angry?

Shit. He was supposed to be the expert on women. Now he realized just how little he really knew. Life had always been easy for him in that department. The Bad Company song she’d teased him about, Feel Like Makin’ Love, could have been his theme song.

So he’d cleaned up his act. So what? After tonight he was sure nothing he said would do any good. He’d certainly lived up to her image of him, pawing at her the way he had.

What the hell had come over him, anyway? If he could, he’d kick himself in the ass.

He sure as hell hadn’t the first idea what to say to her now. Her snarky, get-in-your-face attitude certainly wasn’t going to make it easy. Combine that with her image of him as the ultimate playboy and he had a big wall to climb here.

Heading down the hallway, he saw Shay’s door was still closed. As hard as she’d slammed it he wondered it hadn’t fallen off its hinges. He raised his hand to knock, then dropped it. What would he say to her? Sorry I’m an ass? I thought you were someone else? Oh, yeah. That would go over like a lead balloon.

He should go out somewhere. Anywhere. Out of the danger zone.

Perversity made him head for his bedroom, instead. Anyway, where could he go with such a raging hard-on he could barely walk? Yeah, he definitely should have taken himself elsewhere tonight. Lying on his bed, however, with his arm over his eyes, a thought struck him with alarming awareness.

She’d liked it!

Not only liked it, but came apart right there on the couch in his arms with nothing more than his mouth and his fingers touching her. Lifting his right hand, he sniffed the perfume of her liquid, then tortured himself by lapping the traces of it from his fingers.

Pathetic. Completely pathetic.

Yet here he was, obsessing over a woman he had no business even touching and hard as a spike because he never had a chance to get past first base. First base? What was he, in high school?

He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact he wanted to plunge himself inside her, let her wet heat surround him, and ride her until they both exploded. He had to get over this. Especially if they were going to share this house for more than five minutes.