Читать книгу Forward Pass - Desiree Holt - Страница 9

At eight in the morning, after a mostly sleepless night, Shay reluctantly dragged herself out of bed. Her dreams had been filled with images of Joe Reilly and the feel of his hands as he moved them over her curves. She could still feel the scratch of his stubble as she touched her palms to his cheeks. Still feel the abrasion of the curling hair on his chest against her breasts, teasing her nipples to agonizingly hard points. The heated look in his eyes after he stroked her to orgasm still scorched her body. She ached with rising need even as her brain tried to shut everything down.

She felt stupid. Humiliated. Completely embarrassed as the tendrils of the erotic dream still wound themselves around her. So much for her good intentions and new resolutions.

But oh holy God. The touch of his mouth, his kisses hot, wet, teasing. The way his hands caressed her. The heat he created in her body. Her teenage dreams had barely scratched the surface of the reality. What was it Hank always said? Oh, yeah. Expect the unexpected. No kidding!

Never mind. She could handle this. She just needed to keep reminding herself Joe was still—well, Joe. Hot sports figure who never took anything serious except the game of football itself. Ladies’ man. What happened last night was an aberration, in his life as well as hers.

What prompted him, anyway? She’d give a week’s pay to know what had been going through his mind and what he thought now. For her part she’d just chalk it up to a surge of hormones. That’s all. Her hormones had to be way out of whack. Maybe she could take a pill, or something. Anything to get this out of her system before she made a bigger fool of herself.

She had no idea how she’d face him today. She wanted to jump back into bed, pull the covers over her head, and stay there until Joe left town. Or found someone to shack up with. Of course, that was totally unrealistic.

Her cell phone chimed, and she picked it up from her nightstand.

“Laura out of there okay?”

Shay ground her teeth at Hank’s text. Laura would have been a lot easier to handle. For a moment, she was tempted just to ignore the message. He’d just text her again until she answered him, though. Crap.

“She was gone.” She paused a moment, then typed, “Different houseguest. He needs to leave.”

A long moment passed before Hank texted back.

“Oh, yeah. Forgot. Told Joe he could bunk there. All good.”

No, it was not all good. Not even a little.

“He needs 2 go 2 hotel.”

“B nice, Shay. He’s good friend.”

“Call him. Tell him 2 leave.”

“Told you to take good care of him, right? Do that for me.”

“I can B nicer if he’s in hotel. CALL HIM!!!!!”

She waited and waited. Kept watching the screen. Nope, no more texts came through.

“Damn you, Hank.”

Shay tossed the phone onto the bed. Now what? She’d have to come out of the room sooner or later. She strained her ears to catch any sound of movement in the house but heard nothing. Maybe he was already gone for the day, doing whatever it was he was here in town to handle.

She cracked the bedroom door an inch and listened intently. Still no sound. Okay. If he wasn’t gone maybe he was still sleeping. In which case the tank top and boy shorts she’d slept in would do fine for a quick trip to the kitchen to fix a cup of coffee. Just in case, she walked on tiptoe and held her breath as she moved down the short hall and through the living room. The kitchen was empty. Good so far. She let out a sigh of relief and set about brewing her coffee in the single-cup machine.

“Think you can fix one of those for me?”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Shay jumped at the sound of the deep voice, banging her knee against a cupboard door and nearly cracking her elbow on the counter. She turned slowly, praying her face showed no emotion. Holy Mother, it was a sin to look that good in the morning. The Fox Sports T-shirt and running shorts did little to disguise the hard, masculine lines of his body. Despite the fact Joe Reilly hadn’t played one down in five years, he obviously worked hard to keep himself in shape. She couldn’t keep her eyes from taking in every inch of his still-athletic body. The scruff on his cheeks and slightly mussed hair only enhanced the sexual hum in the air around him.

Shay closed her eyes for a moment and prayed she was still in her bedroom. That she was just imagining this. Then reality set in, she blinked and realized Joe was taking in every detail of her body as she’d done to him. The tank top and boy shorts seemed suddenly insubstantial, and she wished for a shroud to appear and wrap itself around her. No such luck, so she tried for an attitude of nonchalance.

“Um, yes. Coffee. Sure.” She busied herself taking down mugs and putting the little prepared cups in the machine.

“I need a slug of caffeine before I head out for my run.” His voice was rough with a gravelly, early morning rumble.

Sexy. Way too sexy. A pulse with a mind of its own set up throbbing between her thighs and her nipples hardened and tingled. Damn body! Traitorous body.

“You run every day?” She tried to make distracting conversation.

“Sometimes work prevents me, but I try to get a run in as often as I can. Keeps the leg limber.”

Shay turned to hand him his coffee and her gaze fell automatically to his knee where a white scar bisected the flesh. The knee he’d wrecked in the last game he played. The one the doctors had replaced. She was sure for him it was a constant reminder of the end of his dreams. Shay knew how vital knee flexion is to a quarterback. He needed the ability to keep his legs slightly bent as he stepped in to make the throw and to rotate over the leg on the release. When that was gone, the ability to play disappeared with it.

He saw the direction of her gaze. “I’m good with it. God’s truth. Football gave me a lot of good years and now I have a new career I love. I’m luckier than a lot of guys.”

“Yes, you are,” she agreed.

For a very brief moment, sorrow for everything he’d lost swept over her. Then their fingers touched as she handed him the mug and high-voltage electricity shot through her. Joe’s gaze dropped to her tank top where she was sure her traitorous nipples poked back at him. At least if the flare of heat in his eyes was any indication.

So much for wiping last night out of her mind. She wanted him, plain and simple. All these years she’d wondered what an erotic touch from him would feel like. Now she knew and she wanted more. He was like addictive chocolate—one bite and you wanted it all. Maybe she should look at this differently. What would it hurt if she indulged herself? Gave in to temptation? She could get him out of her system once and for all.

But not until she was sure she had her act together.

And had her heart well protected.

Maybe.

Shay took a step back, picked up her own mug, and started toward her bedroom.

“Shay.”

She stopped, still facing away from him. “What?”

“About last night.” Uncertainty tinged his voice, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to bring it up or not.

“Forget it.” No, she wasn’t ready to talk about it now. Not until she was sure she had full control of herself. “You got carried away. I understand. No explanations necessary.” She paused. “You probably thought I was someone else, anyway.” She took a step forward again.

“Shay!” This time the word was almost a shout. “Damn it, take a minute and listen to me.”

“I can’t imagine what you’d have to say to me. We’ll just forget it ever happened.” If she didn’t get out of the room soon, she might say something she’d regret. Like let’s do it again. And she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. “That’s what you were going to tell me, right?”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

Was that desperation in his voice? Maybe he thought she had expectations now. She could certainly disabuse him of that in a hurry.

“It’s okay, Joe. Listen, enjoy your coffee and have a good run.”

Speaking of running, she almost ran to her bedroom, holding her mug so no liquid sloshed over the rim. She closed her door and leaned against it, hoping he didn’t follow her. Her pulse was racing, and she had trouble catching her breath.

Think, think, think.

What if she did this, gave in to all her urges? If he wanted to have sex with her again she’d go for it, making it very clear he was under no emotional obligation. She was a big girl. The thought of finally being completely naked with Joe and having wild, uninhibited sex was way too tempting.

She could do this, especially if she could manage to control the situation.

She waited, listening for any sounds in the hallway. The soft tap on the door sounded as loud as a thunderclap.

“Shay? Come out here and talk to me. I owe you a huge apology.”

Oh, great, an apology. The kiss of death. He was going to apologize for forgetting who she was and thinking she was one of his hot numbers, just when she’d made up her mind to go for it.

“It’s okay. Please just go for your run. And don’t knock again. I’m heading for the shower.”

Which she did, closing the door loudly enough that he could hear it in the hallway. She turned on the shower full force, then sat on the closed lid of the toilet and took a swallow of her coffee. She didn’t need his apology or his pity, if that’s what he was offering. She took another swallow of coffee, easing the lump in her throat. Finally, convinced he’d left the house, she stripped off her shorts, and top and stepped under the hot water. Maybe, if she stood there long enough, she could wash away the memory of his touch.

* * * *

Joe enjoyed running whenever he got the chance. People always focused on a quarterback’s arm, not realizing strengthening his legs was just as important. A big part of the precision and timing of a throw depended on leg action. After the surgery, he’d forced himself to start again as soon as he got the all clear. Even though his playing days were over, he maintained the routine. He’d discovered when he ran for pleasure it felt very, very good.

There was a small park about three blocks from Hank’s house, which he headed toward. He set off at an easy lope, enjoying the freshness of the morning air. Stopping when he reached the start of the jogging trail, he took a minute as he was doing his stretches to check on Gina. He’d transferred the money as he promised Lisa, but he wanted to make sure she used it for the right purpose.

She answered right away.

“Hi, Joe. I got the money. Thanks so much.” Her voice sounded a little strained, or was that his imagination?

“Everything okay?”

“Sure, sure, sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”

He leaned against a thick oak tree. “You took her shopping, right?”

“I did. And to a salon to get her hair styled and a manicure.”

“When’s the interview?”

“Tomorrow. In the afternoon.”

Did Lisa sound a little hesitant or reserved?

“Fine. I want you to text me afterward and let me know the results. And Lisa?”

“Yes?”

He closed his eyes and let out a breath. “This is going to have to be the end. You hear me?”

“But—”

“No buts.” He shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him. “Seven years is a long time to carry her. Now she’s got to carry herself. Make it happen.”

He disconnected before she could say anything else and zipped the phone into his pocket. It was past time to be done with this. With the impression of him Shay had built up over the years, God only knew what wild things she’d imagine if she found out he’d been giving Gina money all this time. It was suddenly important to him what Shay thought of him. How she saw him. What her opinion was.

By the time he hit the jogging path, his muscles were warmed up and he could set a steady clip. This morning, in addition to sticking to his routine, he wanted to work the restless energy out of his system. And his unsatisfied sexual urges.

What the fuck had he been thinking last night, anyway? One minute they’d been sitting there watching a program about fucking Joe Montana. The next he’d had his mouth on hers and his hands everywhere on her body. This was Shay, for crap’s sake. Little Shay. Only she wasn’t so little anymore. She was a warm, desirable woman. One touch of her mouth, one taste of her, and she completely blew his mind. Where did this hot, sexy female come from, anyway?

Hank was going to kill him.

Yeah? Then he should have been smart enough not to leave the two of them alone in that house. He’d studied biology. He knew all about how sex worked.

Now what the fuck did he do? He not only didn’t regret what happened, he also wanted to do it again. And more. Lots more. He wanted to strip them both naked and watch his cock slide into her sweet, delectable pussy. Feel her clamp those hot muscles around him, the ones that singed his fingers last night. The problem was figuring out what she wanted and what last night meant to her.

Shit, shit, shit.

He pounded along the path, his body on automatic pilot, as every single moment of the previous evening replayed itself in his mind. By the time he slowed and began his cool-down, his cock was hard enough to use for a tree trunk and his balls ached like a sonofabitch. When at last he dropped onto a park bench and leaned his head back, he was thoroughly confused and thoroughly aroused.

Two things stuck out like the trip wires they were—Shay Beckham had grown up to be a very hot, very enticing, very sensuous female despite her girl-next-door appearance, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone in his life. Wanted? Wait, that wasn’t even half of it. The little seed of something planted inside him last night when he laid eyes on her now burst into full bloom through his body.

He was fucking in love with Shay Beckham! Holy shit! In love? Where the hell had that come from? People didn’t fall in love this fast, did they? Did you fall in love with someone in less than the blink of an eye?

But Shay was no stranger to him. Truth be told, she’d been on his mind for a very long time. Had this been growing inside him since that brief episode in New York or maybe even before that, even while he’d been so busy living the high life?

Jesus! In love with Shay, a woman who pushed all his buttons the right way?

His entire body felt as if a thunderbolt had speared through it, delivering the shocking realization that he was in love with Shay Beckham.

Yes, you ass. All this time you’ve just been too stupid to realize it.

Until now. Until they’d been thrown together in a situation where the attraction had exploded and consumed him. He’d had just a taste of her and now he wanted all of it. Everything. And not just for the here and now.

God. He could hardly wrap his mind around it.

He certainly had a lot to overcome with her. All those years he’d dissed her as Hank’s pesky kid sister. The overload of women he’d drowned himself in. The reputation the tabloids had hung on him. He needed to change her image of him and at the same time make her realize things were different now.

Oh, yeah, sure, jerkoff. Because she doesn’t have her defenses up, right? Taking on a Super Bowl championship team with a broken arm would be a lot easier. First he had to get past whatever she was feeling about last night.

For him it had been an awakening. Had it hit her the same way? That’s what he’d wanted to tell her, ask her, this morning before she shut him down, avoided the subject completely. Did she regret what happened? Was she ashamed of it? Somehow he had to get her mind turned around about it because he wanted more. With her.

He needed to breach her defenses because his desire for the grown-up Shay had exploded into a living, breathing thing. This was a whole lot more than sex. He wanted all of her, the whole package. Forever.

If he was going to move forward here, he needed a plan. This was no different than quarterbacking a game. Register the pitfalls presented by the other team, set the objectives and put the field plan together. He could do that, right?

Then he would get her to change the way she looked at him. The person she thought he was. He hoped. Show her she wasn’t just another addition to a long list she seemed to think he kept. He just needed to get her to listen to him.

Slow, he told himself. Just take everything real slow.

Okay. Now he knew what he had to do, but business first.

He mentally ran over his agenda for this trip. He’d be speaking to a couple of the coaches groups Scott had set up as part of his Coaches Conference. He was also meeting with the committee planning a big fundraiser for scholarships for athletes. He’d agreed to make an appearance at the event and use his connections to solicit sponsors and merchandise. Because it was close to his hometown and because football had been very good to him financially, he agreed to match all the funds raised from other sources. Keeping this out of the media until the last minute was the only promise he’d extracted from them.

That was the one thing he and Scott continued to disagree on—using his Coaches Conference program, his speeches, and his fundraising for publicity purposes. He didn’t mind personally soliciting people for contributions for worthy causes, or speaking to coaching staffs of varied sizes. As he changed the flow of his life, however, it occurred to him discussing his charity work would seem too much like puffing himself up. Telling people how wonderful he was for doing these things.

“We’ve been over this a bunch of times, Scott.” The agent’s words had irritated him. “You’re the one who told me I was too much of a publicity hound, remember?”

“I do. But that was more your life-of-the-party image. This is good stuff, Joe. People need to know about it. To see who you’ve become. Which is a damn fine person.”

“I’m the same person I always was,” he’d snapped. “Just older and wiser. And I don’t want to look like I’m buying a new image with money and good deeds. Doing this for a less than stellar purpose.”

“Joe,” the agent had begun.

“Isn’t it enough the gossip hounds aren’t after me anymore? That I’m off the gossip pages,” he’d pointed out. “That alone should make you happy. And I think it’s time to keep my private life just that. Very private. If I can tap into my connections to help people, I’m more than happy to do it. But I won’t use any of them to, as you say, polish up my image. I’d feel cheap doing it.”

“That’s very noble of you,” Scott had told him, “but hiding your good works won’t get people to take you seriously. You cut a pretty wide path through the female population for a long time, sport. Your bosses at Fox Sports One would love to see you settled down.”

“How about if I just promise to keep my social life out of the media? If people want to quietly discuss my other activities, okay, fine. No big publicity campaign, though. I mean it.”

“Wow!” Scott had grinned. “A conscience. My baby boy is growing up.”

This afternoon he would be meeting with the people putting on the fundraiser for athletic scholarships. The past few weeks he’d wrangled major commitments from former teammates and some of the Fox Sports One guys. He had Scott working his current sponsors and he even got commitments from a couple of his former backers. He felt good about not just reaching but surpassing the goal, especially with what he planned to contribute himself.

He gave a brief thought to telling Shay where he was going today but changed his mind immediately. Better to wait for the right moment, when things with the two of them were on a different footing. Between her firmly etched opinion of him and last night’s grope-a-thon, she’d just think he was blowing smoke to make himself look better. If he told her about his meeting today, just dumped all of it on her like that, she probably would. Cleaning up his image with her would take some work.

Instead he’d casually ask her if she was going to be home tonight. Tell her he had some game videos to review for his show—no lie, he actually did—and would she like to watch with him. Yeah, low-key it like that and hope she didn’t have plans.

If she was home when he stopped to change, he’d put on his friendliest face, not mention last night and see if he could at least get them on friendly footing. Yeah, okay. Good plan. Friends first. Then they could ease into the rest of it when she began to trust him. Which she obviously didn’t at the moment. He wanted to tell her how much he’d changed, how different his life was now, but he knew it would take a lot to convince her. He’d just have to set the stage.

On his way home after his meetings, he’d pick up Chinese food for dinner. Then he’d find the place that made those cookies she liked so much. They used to get them from a bakery in Granite Falls, a branch of the one in San Antonio. That should buy him some brownie points. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and looked up the San Antonio address. Right on his way home. Perfect.

Cookies. And maybe ice cream. They could watch the videos together.

He hoped.

He also hoped when Hank found out he didn’t cut off his balls.

As if conjured up by magic, his phone chimed and he saw a text from Hank.

“Settled in? Everything okay?”

Joe blew out a breath.

“Fine. Thx. All good.”

Yeah, right. Everything was just peachy keen.

* * * *

Normally, the day after she returned from one of her New York trips Shay hung around the house in slop clothes, read, and watched sports to decompress before going back to her current project, or starting a new one. A minimalist where makeup was concerned to begin with, on those days she never even swiped a lipstick over her mouth. She’d put her hair, usually still damp from the shower, up in a messy ponytail and pull on a very old Granite Falls Coyotes T-shirt with a faded pair of jeans shorts. Until she got a good read on where this thing with Joe was going, she didn’t want him to think she dressed in any way for him, so she stuck to her routine.

And what exactly was this thing? Maybe it was just once and done for him. Maybe he’d decided to satisfy her craving for him. God, she couldn’t stand it if that’s all it was. Then she really would have to kick him out of the house.

But what if he wanted more? What if he wanted…everything. Full-blown, all-out sex?

She told herself to quit overthinking it. So she’d had almost sex with her childhood hero. They were both adults now. Things were different. Hadn’t she decided she’d just take it for what it was, enjoy the ride while it lasted, and walk away with her pride intact? Anyway, he probably wouldn’t be around all the time. Not Joe the ladies’ man.

Passing the mirror in her bedroom, she got a glimpse of herself. Yeah, she looked like a first-class slob all right. Certainly a far cry from the glamorous females Joe was used to. Besides, he’d probably get back from his run, shower, and head out to hook up with whatever women were waiting for him.

Images from last night kept playing over and over in her mind and she couldn’t quell the little thrill of expectation wriggling through her when she heard his car pull up in the driveway. She did her best to focus instead on the glass of orange juice she’d poured. Maybe its icy coldness would smother the heat building inside her.

“Hey, Shay.”

The gravelly voice made her lady parts stand up and take notice, especially the inner walls of her pussy that contracted at the memory of his touch.

“Um, hey, Joe.” She didn’t need the sound of his footsteps to tell her he’d come into the kitchen. Her body had an uncanny ability to sense his presence. “Have a good run?”

“Yeah. I like the little park near here. Not too crowded. Nice and pleasant. So, uh, listen.”

“Yeah?” Okay, here it came. The excuses. The apology. She wanted to tell him just to keep his thoughts to himself and then run into her room.

“I have a couple of meetings this afternoon….”

Was that a euphemism for hooking up? Okay, she could handle that.

“Have a nice time.” She sipped at the orange juice.

“Anyway, I thought if you didn’t have any plans for tonight, I’ve got some DVDs of games I need to watch before my show starts up again. I know you like football. It isn’t Montana, but I’d like it if you’d watch them with me. Get your opinion on some things. If you want to, that is.”

Did she want to? Hell, yes. She also wanted to get completely naked with him. Too bad what he offered didn’t sound close to an invitation to seduction. She’d shut him down that morning when he wanted to bring up last night, but maybe that was a mistake.

“Um, yeah. Sounds okay.” Right. Couldn’t let him know her hormones were jumping up and down. She could wait and read whatever signals he sent out.

“So how about if I pick up some Chinese on the way home and maybe some dessert?”

Now she turned to look at him. She had to see the expression on his face, but it was carefully blank. But the blatant heat in his eyes nearly ate her alive. Allrighty, then! The muscles in her pussy gave a hopeful flutter and her mouth suddenly went dry. She cleared her throat.

“That would be very nice. Thank you.” Orange juice in hand, she eased out of the kitchen.

“See you around six,” he called after her.

Her nasty voice, the one she’d been listening to for so many years, wanted to ask him if the afternoon would give him enough time. But he was being so nice she pressed her lips tightly together to keep from saying anything. At least until she knew what his game was. Because this Joe Reilly was nothing like the one she’d always known. She wondered just how much of it was an act.

* * * *

“Shay?” He called out her name as he carried his packages into the kitchen. “I brought goodies.”

Silence greeted him and his stomach dropped as he realized she might have gone out. Maybe she’d had second thoughts, regretted last night, and planned to just avoid him until he left town. Then the sound of a door opening broke into his consciousness. Yes! She was here. In a minute the delicious scent of whatever soap she used tickled his nostrils and he sensed her behind him in the kitchen.

“Goodies? Besides the Chinese food?” She pounced on the bakery box on the counter. “Ohmigod! Is this what I think it is? Snickerdoodles?” She started to untie the ribbon.

“Uh-uh-uh.” Joe playfully slapped at her hand. “No dessert until you eat your dinner.”

“Then let’s get to it.” She pulled the big brown paper sack toward her and began removing the cartons of takeout. “What did you get?”

Joe was relieved to hear the casual, almost playful tone in her voice. She’d either decided to pretend last night never happened—bad—or was hopeful it would happen again. That was good, right? Right? He voted for option two.

When he turned to look at her he almost swallowed his tongue. Her hair, the color of corn silk, fell softly to her shoulders, framing her face. He wanted to fist his hands in it, let it sift through his fingers. White shorts cupped her sweet ass and she’d paired them with a T-shirt, the soft fabric the same deep blue as her eyes and draped gently over her breasts. Oh, God, were her nipples actually visible through the material? No makeup except some pink gloss slicked over her lips, but as far as Joe was concerned, she didn’t need anything else. Didn’t those lips just beg to be kissed? He had to stop himself from licking his own.

Shit. Kill me now.

He was in such big fucking trouble here. How the hell was he supposed to take things slow? How could he make time to establish a new relationship with this woman—and she most definitely was a woman, not a little girl—when just looking at her made him hot as a pistol and harder than steel?

Suck it up, he told himself and grabbed two of the cartons from her. He was anxious to have something to do with his hands before he put them all over her.

“Here, I’ll do that. Why don’t you get the plates and silverware?”

“What’s in this other bag?” She unrolled the flap on a white paper sack. “Ice cream?” She squealed like the little kid he remembered. “Cookies and cream. Yum, yum, yum.”

He took the sack away from her and shoved it in the freezer. “Like I said, dinner first. This is to ease the pain while I bore you with a bunch of football crap later.”

She cocked her eyebrow, giving him a quizzical look. “Boring? Football? You must have me confused with someone else.”

“Okay.” He chuckled. “It’s just not Joe Montana football.”

“I’ll suffer through it.” She turned away from him and busied herself with plates and silverware. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starved.”

Joe made sure to sit across from Shay at the table, not next to her. He needed to avoid touching her as much as possible. Put distance between them until he could figure this thing out. As it was, it took every bit of the discipline he’d learned playing football to look away from the way her T-shirt fabric caressed her breasts, the outline of her nipples visible beneath the soft material. His blood pulsed heavily through his veins, pressure building in his cock. He hoped if Shay noticed him drooling she’d think it was for the Chinese food. He gave thanks the table hid his ranging hard-on, which apparently appeared now whenever he was in her presence.

Conversation. They needed conversation. Anything to distract his body and his little head, which seemed to think it was in charge.

“Sorry New York turned out to be a bust for you.”

Shay speared a piece of orange chicken, popped it into her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. When she licked a drop of sauce from her lower lip Joe was afraid he’d combust right there at the table. The look she gave him reminded him they’d had this discussion before but he was desperate for a safe conversational topic. Anything that dropped a virtual ice cube in his pants and cooled him off.

“It was okay for a while. I had the big-city adventure and scored a fabulous job.” She shrugged. “The bloom just wore off quickly. Besides, I’m a Texas girl through and through.” Her voice was flat and uninflected.

Joe would give a lot to know what was really behind her decision to move back.

“So, no hot guys?” he teased. “No broken hearts left behind when you came home?” He made his voice as casual as possible.

Another bite of chicken. More chewing. Joe tried not to focus on the smooth play of muscles in her neck as she swallowed.

“None that you’d find interesting. They were all too sharp-edged. Too high energy, I guess. Too—” She waved her fingers in the air. “Too New York.”

Joe sensed an intense story behind her casual comments, but she sure wasn’t going to open up to him tonight over takeout.

“Besides,” she went on, “I get my fix of sidewalk hot-dog vendors and pizza by the slice when I go back for a few days of meetings.”

He frowned. “And that’s what New York is to you, hot dogs and pizza?”

She laughed, the now familiar musical sound that cut right into him. “I guess. Apparently I’m just not a city-slicker girl at heart. What about you? You like it? You’re living in Los Angeles now, right?”

“Actually I don’t live there anymore.” He scooped more fried rice onto his plate. “Too metrosexual for me. I guess I don’t like the city any better than you do.”

“So where are you living now?”

Hadn’t Hank told her? Exactly what information had her brother given her about him? More than that, did she even ask or show interest?

“Houston. Fox Sports has facilities there as well. And I like it much better than the West Coast.”

“But you flew in yesterday from New York,” she reminded him.

“Meetings on one of my endorsement contracts with a company rep and my agent.”

She studied his face, her eyes serious. “Forgive me if I’m stepping into forbidden territory, but does it bother you? Not being able to play again?”

Joe thought he’d gotten past those feelings pretty well until the little taste of bitterness surged in his throat. “I think I’ll always miss playing, but I’m lucky. My agent hooked me up with a terrific television contract and my bosses seem to be happy with me. We’re going into our fifth year and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight.”

“Unique name, Inside the Helmet. Good show, too.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You watch it?”

She flipped a hand casually. “When I get a chance.”

Alright! She watched his program. He gave a mental fist pump.

“Well, let’s clear this stuff away and you can help me watch some video for the earliest fall shows.”

“Me? Help you?” She laughed. “I don’t think anyone knows more about what’s in a quarterback’s head than you do, Mr. Hotshot Quarterback Joe Reilly.” The smile left her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease—”

“It’s okay. I’m past it.” Mostly. “Let’s do this.”

“What about dessert? I want my ice cream and cookies.”

“After the first video. A reward for your help.”

In the living room, Joe pulled a disk from his briefcase and slipped it into the DVD player. He picked up the remote, careful to take the recliner and leave the couch to Shay.

“So what’s up first?” she asked.

“The young quarterback for the San Antonio Mustangs, as a matter of fact. I’ll be doing a piece on him before the first preseason game. Maybe even analyzing their entire quarterback situation. We’ll see. I have some background work to do, but first I want to watch the kid in action.”

“Is he any good?”

He shrugged. “You tell me. Let’s give him a look.”

He was so conscious of her his skin felt as if he’d sandpapered it. He wondered if she felt the sexual tension as much as he did. He wanted her with an intensity that stunned him. He couldn’t just sweep the remnants of dinner aside, though, and jump her bones, much as he might want to. He had to move slowly. He could not afford to give her the idea this was some casual hookup, like the ones she seemed to think he enjoyed on a regular basis. Somehow he had to dredge up every bit of discipline he’d spent a lifetime learning and keep a lid on things until the right moment. The next time it would be a lot more than a grope session.

Managing to do it was going to be easier said than done.

* * * *

Shay studied the man standing in front of the television. It was hard to wipe away the image of him naked from the shower, the one from yesterday that was etched in her mind with acid. He still had the toned athlete’s body only now it belonged to a mature man. She wanted to see it again, without any of those clothes concealing it. Run her hands over his muscles and squeeze his very fine butt.

After last night, just being in the same room with Joe made her pussy throb and her blood heat. She didn’t know about him but for her it had occupied nearly every waking moment during the day. He sure didn’t seem like he was going to make another move on her. If she had half a brain, she’d take her dessert and hide in the bedroom. Wait! Wasn’t that what she’d been doing this morning before she finally snuck out to the kitchen?

Okay, no more hiding, not if she really wanted sex with Joe Reilly. Real sex. She wished she knew if he was being so nice to her because she was Hank’s sister, because he was afraid he’d pissed her off last night or because he wanted more with her. He’d brought her ice cream and her favorite cookies and asked her to watch the videos with him. Exactly what did that mean?

She tried not to look at him stretched out in the big chair, his masculine sexiness like an aura clinging to him. He still wore the clothes from the afternoon, the khakis outlining the lean length of his legs, the dark green of the soft-collared shirt stretched across wide shoulders and a muscular chest. Her palms itched to touch him again, feel that soft chest hair scattered over hard chest muscle. God, she wanted him more than a snickerdoodle.

She was so lost in her imagination the sound of his voice startled her.

“Shay? You with me?”

“What?” She blinked. “Sure. Sorry.” She tried hard to focus. The last thing she needed was for Joe to catch her salivating over him.

“I’d like to hear more about your take on this kid. You’ve got a sharp eye.”

“Um, okay.” Damn straight she had a good eye for players’ strengths and weaknesses. She’d studied them all these years. She took in a breath. “Sure. Be happy to.”

Joe pressed Play on the remote. “He declared for the draft in his sophomore year and pretty much rode the bench as a rookie. I saw him in training camp last year when he was still a raw recruit. The coach says he’s come a long way since then. Watch his two-step dropback when he gets ready to throw.”

Shay curled her legs beneath her and forced herself to concentrate on the screen. The young quarterback actually had good moves, a good rhythm. In some ways, he reminded her of Joe in his college days. The lithe athleticism on the verge of maturity. She watched Joe making notes in his iPad as the video unfolded, then eject the disk when it came to the end.

“I wanted to be able to study him before I meet with him,” he told Shay. “Like I said, the Mustangs have great hopes for him and my producer wants to lead off the show this season with his interview. What did you think?”

“Good footwork,” she told him. “Good timing. He shows a lot of promise.” She grinned. “Like a young Joe Montana.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe Montana can show up and get you some ice cream.”

“No, hey.” She jumped up from the couch. “You can’t get out of this. I want my treats.”

“Do you now.” He winked at her. “Ask nicely.”

She wrinkled her forehead in a mock scowl. “Give me my ice cream and cookies, or I’ll have to hurt you.”

Joe threw back his head and laughed. “If that’s nicely, I don’t want to be around when you’re ticked off. Come on. We’ll dish it up. I have more video to watch.”

Shay followed him into the kitchen, her body heated just from their close proximity. How on Earth had she allowed herself to agree to this “friendly” evening? She was torn between wanting a repeat of last night—no, more than last night—and wanting to hide until Joe finally left the house and the city.

Sighing, she plated the cookies while Joe dished up the ice cream and they carried their food back into the living room. She set the cookies on the coffee table and picked one up. Biting into it, she hummed with pleasure as the sugary flavor exploded in her mouth.

“Shay?” Joe’s voice broke into her thoughts. “You okay?”

She drew in a breath. “Just enjoying my treat. Mmm. This is yummy good.”

“They always were your favorite.”

“I can’t believe you remembered.”

“It’s hard to forget,” he told her. “I don’t think there was ever a time I was at your house you weren’t eating those cookies or begging for them.”

He remembered? The thought gave her a warm feeling. Of course, then she’d just been Hank Beckham’s little sister. But now? Had last night changed how he looked at her?

Drive yourself nuts, why don’t you, Shay?

“Well.” She licked her fingers. “Thank you for remembering. And for getting them today, although it wasn’t necessary.”

He looked at her as if about to say something then shook his head. After sliding in a new disk, he hit Play again.

It took every bit of Shay’s willpower to sit there quietly watching game video and discussing the details with Joe. What was going on here? Were they just going to keep pretending last night hadn’t happened? She was ready if he ever made another move, but she was pretty sure she couldn’t make the first one herself. Staying in the house with him under these circumstances was going to be a strain on her self-discipline. Maybe she could bunk with a girlfriend until Joe left. Her problem was her few friends from the past years were in New York, people she’d chosen now to disconnect herself from.

She hadn’t exactly made time since she moved back to reconnect with anyone. In fact, it depressed her to realize how much time had passed since she saw or spoke to any of the people she used to hang out with from Granite Falls. She’d left home for college and apparently left them behind, too. Why? Was she just so focused on herself, on getting away from Granite Falls, she wanted nothing to do with them?

No help there. If anyone was going to leave, it would have to be Joe, and that didn’t look like it was going to happen.

Argh! She wanted to pull her hair.

Damn Hank, anyway.

“Shay?” Joe’s deep voice cut into her thoughts. “Are you with me? I just asked you a question.”

“What?” Oh, great. Her mind had been wandering again. He probably thought she was bored to death. She set her ice cream dish on the table. “Oh, yes. Sorry. I thought the guy was terrific. Great hands.”

Joe’s deep laugh rumbled in the air again. “Nice try. That was ten minutes ago. Here. Let me have your ice cream before it turns into soup.”

“No, no, no.” She gripped the bowl. “I was paying attention. Truly. And I want my ice cream.”

“Then let me get you some that isn’t melted.”

He stood up and reached to take the bowl from her. When his fingers touched hers, she nearly dropped the bowl. The color of his eyes darkened now to polished onyx, the savage heat so incendiary it could have singed off a complete layer of her skin. They stood there, frozen, staring at each other. A muscle twitched in his jaw and electricity jolted through her to her breasts and her pussy. Her hands shook.

Lordy!

Joe opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, then practically grabbed the bowl from her.

“I’ll get us some fresh ice cream.” He looked over at the plate, a corner of his mouth turning up in a crooked grin. “I see you did a number on the cookies. I guess we need to put out the rest of them. Then I’ll pop in another video.”

Ice cream. Cookies. Video.

Okay. She made herself move, one foot in front of the other as she walked toward the kitchen. Was he playing some kind of game? One minute he looked like he wanted to lick every inch of her naked body. The next he was treating her as if nothing had happened between them. And damn it! Something had happened. Now that she’d decided she wanted it to happen again she was having trouble waiting for him to make the next move.

She certainly wasn’t about to throw herself at him. She’d watched women do that for years. No, whatever happened she was going to wait for him to take the lead. But she’d certainly be a willing participant.

She just had to keep her emotions under control. No way could she let Joe be aware of her real feelings for him. Ever. She’d never let him know she’d been in love with him all these years.

Love. Crap.

Yes, Shay. You’re in love with him. It’s your little secret, and it’s going to stay that way.

Because she knew it was pointless. He’d never see her as a woman, never have those feelings for her. It was easier just to be at odds with him. Then she’d never get hurt. Everything she’d ruthlessly suppressed over the years, that she buried behind a snarky attitude whenever she was with him, had just boiled over last night and now here she was.

God. Make up your mind, Shay. Bring it up, don’t bring it up, but quit driving yourself crazy.

For one fleeting moment she’d thought, from the look in his eyes, he might feel the same way. Yeah, right. Joe might be in lust with her, but that’s all it would ever be. Of course, she could always tell him she thought he’d turned into Joe Montana.

Yeah, right.

Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Why did life have to be so friggin’ complicated?

“Cookies?”

Joe’s voice nudged her into awareness. “Oh, yeah. Cookies. Coming right up.”

At least, she thought, it seemed like they were going to be friends instead of adversaries. Maybe she could get through his stay without letting her real feelings show, as long as he wasn’t here for too long. She was strong. She could handle it. As she plated the rest of the cookies, she swallowed a sigh. Maybe she should have stayed in New York after all.