Touchdowns and Tiaras: The Complete Boxed Set

by Sosie Frost

  “We did.”

  “When?”

  I stared only at the television. It didn’t help. The sportscast did a recap of training camps around the league, and Jude popped up on the screen as well.

  Smiling. Gorgeous.

  Perfect.

  “We were dared,” I said. “When we were kids. Thought we’d catch cooties or something.”

  He squeezed my hand. “I think I’m safe now…unless babies are contagious.”

  “Well, I certainly wasn’t sneezed on.” I shrugged. “Guess I got blessed though.”

  “Don’t seem too sure about it.”

  “It’s scary. You’re walking through life, everything’s planned out for the next five years or so and then—Bam. You get the sneeze. I can’t help but wonder what might’ve happened if he had…you know.”

  “Used a Kleenix?”

  Or a second condom. “Let’s just say there’s not many gentlemen left in the world who would offer a lady their handkerchief.”

  “Good thing you have me,” Jude said. “I consider myself quite the gentleman. Care for a demonstration?”

  He raised my hand to his lips.

  “How continental.” My heart fluttered a bit too much. I hoped the baby could pick up the slack.

  He kissed the back of my hand with a flourishing grin. “How’s that for convincing?”

  He sure as hell convinced me. “Well, shucks. That’s swell. Everyone at the soda shop will think we’re going steady now.”

  I giggled, but Jude hadn’t released my palm. His smile faded, and he exhaled, a masculine moment of contemplation.

  “You know, Doc. You’re right.”

  “It might be a fake relationship, but you already know what I like to hear.”

  “We do need to be comfortable with each other.”

  “I agree.”

  “You should kiss me.”

  I would just as soon as I grabbed the nearest defibrillator. “W—What?”

  “A lot of people kiss in public,” he said.

  “Yeah.” My voice wavered. “I guess we should practice kissing.”

  “I don’t mean to brag...but I am pretty damn good at it.”

  “Yeah?” I liked this game. A lot. “You can’t be better than me.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “Proof is in the pudding.” I pointed to my belly. “Well…placenta.”

  “You’re awfully confident. Game on.” He curled a finger. “Get back here, Rory.”

  And this was exactly why I never gambled. Not enough to bet and entirely too much to lose.

  An arm length separated us over the couch. Was I supposed to scoot over? Would he meet me halfway? Maybe we should have stood for this. The couch felt too puffy. It complicated everything and bogged us down within the leather and fluff.

  Too many seconds had passed, and we were beyond awkward and shooting into uncomfortable. I sucked in a breath and pinched my eyes shut just so I wouldn’t see myself tremble.

  I could do it. It was just a kiss. Just a sweet, simple kiss with the absolute man of my dreams who had no idea how obsessively, freakishly often I had imagined this very moment—

  I surged forward.

  So did he.

  And our foreheads cracked together with a spectacular thunk.

  “Damn…” Jude rubbed his head. “Don’t I get battered around enough on the field?”

  Oh God. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  I held his cheeks in my hand and stared into his eyes.

  He was onto me. “I’m thinking this isn’t a romantic gaze.”

  “Checking your pupils.”

  “My skull isn’t made of Styrofoam, Doc. I can take a head-butt…especially if it gets me this…”

  He pushed forward, cradling my cheek while leaning into a sweet, tender, and amazing kiss.

  The zip of shock trembled me from my fluttering lashes to my curling toes.

  I froze and heated and squirmed and went limp all at the same time. The kiss ended all too quickly—little more than a peck, less than an I Do at the altar.

  I was left with a quiet gasp and dizzying lungful of his earthy scent.

  “There.” He was damn proud of himself. “I kissed you. See? We’ll fool anyone.”

  I swallowed. “Right. That was very…convincing.”

  “You think?”

  I was too afraid to lick my lips in case I’d taste more of his perfect saltiness. “Yeah. That was perfect.”

  He nodded. “I guess that’s good.”

  “You guess? Do you think there’s something…else we should do?”

  Hope wasn’t supposed to shame me, but I was crossing every finger and toe for luck.

  “Nah,” he said. “That was probably enough.”

  “We don’t want probably. We need absolute confidence.”

  “Okay. So that was a polite kiss. Like a hello and goodbye peck. The kind you’d give me at the practice facility.”

  This thrill was entirely inappropriate. “You’re right. It’s a bit safe.”

  “People might expect more.”

  “And we are supposed to be madly in love,” I said.

  “Desperately in love.”

  “And, say you were my boyfriend?” I let the delight linger. “You’d probably be all over me.”

  Jude didn’t hesitate. “All the time. If a guy was lucky enough to get with you, he’d be damn proud to show you off all hot and heavy.”

  Was it possible for my heart, head, and core to simultaneously implode?

  “So, we should…try something a bit more passionate?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Something…primal.”

  I straightened on the couch, marveling at the fierce grey of his eyes. “I mean, technically, you would have gotten me pregnant. You’d be used to that sort of…” I swallowed. “Ravishment.”

  “Ravishment?”

  “Oh. As long as the pregnancy doesn’t repulse you, of course.”

  Jude’s smile grew, but it wasn’t exactly friendly. More revealing. Dangerous. “No man in his right mind would be repulsed by that. A pregnant woman?” His voice lowered, driving my pulse hard and fast. “Between you and me, Doc, I don’t think there’s anything sexier.”

  “Really?”

  “Ask any real man.” Jude tugged me close. “There’s something about a lovely woman, in the prime of her life, so natural and…”

  He bit his words. God, I wished it had been my neck.

  I swallowed. “Pregnancy isn’t exactly glamorous.”

  His gaze drifted over my body, returning only to stare at my lips. “But you look so beautiful. Soft. Feminine.”

  The last time a man complimented me so much, I’d gotten pregnant. This time, I made an even bigger mistake.

  I launched into a kiss. Jude caught me as I wrapped my arms behind his neck. I trapped him, or maybe he trapped me. It didn’t matter. I crashed against him and fell into a passionate embrace.

  Jude tugged my hair, forcing me to gasp. My lips parted, and I murmured a quiet groan as his tongue flicked over mine. His touch was soft and quick, but it chilled me to goosebumps only to sear through my core. He crushed me against his chest, and I was certain in that moment, he’d know everything.

  He'd feel my warmth.

  He’d sense my secrets.

  He’d hear it in my whispered pleasure.

  The kiss exposed more of me than if I had completely stripped for him.

  I clutched at Jude—the only man I had ever wanted to touch, to taste, to feel. For so long, I’d imagined this moment, never thinking it’d come to reality.

  But it wasn’t fair.

  Not to me. Not to him.

  And not to the baby.

  I ached for a man who had no idea how much he meant to me. Every flick of his tongue and nibble of his lips coiled within me. I tensed and trembled and nearly embarrassed myself with the truth. All it’d take was a whisper, and I’d reveal all of my irresponsible and dangerous feelings.

  B
ut Jude kissed me, hard and fast. His fingers tangled in my hair, and we fell back onto the couch. I wiggled on his hips, and his free hand grasped my thigh, pulling me tight against him.

  We embraced as if we belonged together. As if we’d kissed this way a thousand times before.

  I warmed against his hot flesh and bare chest. He had a new tattoo since I saw him last—tribal and dark. It only highlighted the subtle strength and quiet tension that rolled through his body.

  Like he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.

  This was a mistake.

  One more kiss and I’d be done. One graze of his tongue and I’d lose myself.

  One touch of my body and I’d completely surrender.

  But suddenly, I had all three. His hands tightened over my hips, and my moan echoed in my head. I’d begged his name, whispered as both a plea and a moment of gratitude.

  This was happening. Every fantasy I’d ever dreamed and every pleasure I’d ever imagined. I panted, wetted, and gripped at him.

  Too much. Too fast. Too hot.

  Our weight shifted. I rested over him, and Jude tensed. He rolled us both, but our legs tangled. His hands jammed against the cushions. My head fell back.

  And my stomach lurched.

  Thud.

  I grunted as we tumbled from the couch and collapsed in a panting pile of almost-regret and awkward-relief.

  “Are you okay?” Jude laughed as I twisted under him. I freed my arm from his leg. “Sorry. I thought…”

  I forced myself to speak—to say anything as quickly as I could before the truth escaped.

  “You mean rug burns aren’t normally part of a kiss?” I asked.

  “I usually save that for later, Doc.”

  I nervously laughed. The fake giggle even annoyed the baby. Genie decided to bubble in her lamp, and I clamped my lips shut before any magic hurled out.

  Jude helped me to my feet, granting me a charming, carefree smile. “I think we’ve got this kissing part down.”

  “Yeah.” I struggled to breathe.

  “I didn’t jostle Genie, did I?”

  No, but he’d tumbled everything else inside me.

  I pulled away, washed in guilt so thick I swore he saw me sweating it out.

  What was I doing?

  It was wrong of me to think and feel the things I did for Jude, especially since I was pregnant.

  Especially since it was another man’s baby.

  Especially when I knew I’d be raising the baby alone. I had to put Genie first. The baby was my life now.

  And I’d love her more than my heart could ever break for Jude.

  “I should get ready for the movers,” I said. “They’ll be here soon.”

  Jude winked. “Sure thing, darling.”

  “Right…” I gave him an awkward gun-slinger tip of my fingers. “Daddy.”

  He chuckled, and I escaped from his touch, his scent, his presence.

  I should have called the movers and cancelled everything. Should have told him it was a bad idea, and that this would only get us in trouble.

  I couldn’t have a fake relationship with Jude.

  Not when everything already felt so real.

  6

  Jude

  “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  My question broke the stillness. In the dim morning light, Rory’s face bathed in shadows.

  Her gorgeous eyes widened with a dangerous curiosity. “I’ve been ready, Jude. I’ve been waiting forever.”

  “You know we can’t go back after this.”

  “I know.” Her breathing wavered. “But I want you to take me.”

  “I promise I won’t go too fast.”

  “I just need you to get me there.”

  “Tell me if you need me to stop or slow down. I want to be safe.”

  “I always feel safe with you.”

  “Then say the word, Doc, and I’ll take you on a magic carpet ride.”

  Rory tossed me the keys to my Jeep and grabbed her lunch. For the third time, she peeked into the paper bag and frowned.

  “Okay, I’m ready to go. But can you run me past the store super quick? I’m not feeling this peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

  I handed her a twenty from my wallet. “Treat yourself. Or, you know, eat in the cafeteria with the rest of the team.”

  She refused the money, but I stuffed it in her bag regardless.

  “I can’t eat with you guys,” she said. “All those smells make Genie mad. She gets out of her lamp and stomps on my stomach.”

  “She?”

  “What?”

  I shouldered my bags. “You keep calling the baby a she.”

  “I do?”

  “Ever since you told me about her. Do you have a feeling? Mother’s intuition?”

  Rory went quiet.

  Uh-oh.

  Her pregnancy hormones ticked like an active bomb strapped to her tummy. And, like an idiot I kept plucking the wrong wires. I backed off.

  “Never mind,” I said. “It’s not important.”

  Rory looked away. “I guess…it just seemed like the right thing to call her.”

  “Then I’m sure it is. Go with your instinct.”

  Rory’s lip trembled. Shit. My instinct was to duck and cover.

  Too late.

  The tears welled. Rory covered her mouth. She sobbed.

  I dropped my bags. This wasn’t the first time I’d accidentally made her cry, and one of the many times I had no idea why she got upset.

  “Oh my gosh.” She sniffled. “I didn’t even realize I was calling her a her. I had no idea. I never thought about it. The baby was just…something in my life. She wasn’t…she wasn’t…”

  I froze. Did I hug her or dive away? Give her a smile, or offer her more money?

  I finished her sentence with a hope and a prayer. “A…girl?”

  “Real.”

  Thick tears rolled over her dark cheeks. Rory fanned her face, but her voice still quivered. “It’s all so real all of a sudden.”

  “It hasn’t been real before?”

  “No!”

  “But it’s been twenty weeks.”

  That didn’t help. Wrong thing to say.

  “Oh, God. You’re right. It’s been twenty weeks, and I’m just now thinking of the baby as a real person? I must be the most self-absorbed monster in the world.”

  I reined her back to a kitchen stool and offered a bottle of water. “You’re not a monster. You’re perfectly normal.”

  “Oh, please.” Rory chugged the water. “I know it’s just hormones. I can tell you exactly the type and what their function is and why my body is producing them. But it just doesn’t help when I know I’m being crazy and I can’t do anything about it.”

  “Name of the game, Doc. But you’re doing everything you’re supposed to be doing.”

  “Yeah.” She sipped the water. “I’m so used to freaking out alone. It’s…nice to have you here.”

  Uh-oh. I expected a smile. I got the water-works. “I’m glad to help.”

  Her voice trembled. “God, Jude. You’re so…so…”

  Utterly confused?

  I welcomed her into my arms because I had no idea how else to comfort her. A pregnant woman could switch from hungry to sad to homicidal to exhausted just by flipping through the trending shows on Netflix.

  Make her a sandwich for lunch? She’d rage about chunky peanut butter. Stick a bow on the dog? She’d burst into uncontrollable tears imagining how she’d dress up the baby.

  It’d been a week of living together. I was already battle scarred. We had another five months to go. I’d need a bullet-proof vest, some chocolate, and a lot of warm baths—either to soothe her or to hide in with Phillip.

  “You’ve been so sweet.” Her voice muffled in my shoulder. “First you take me into your home, then you play this crazy game with a fake relationship, and now you give me lunch money…”

  The tears started again. Happy ones this time. We were making progr
ess.

  “Now you’re giving me a ride to practice,” she said.

  I rubbed a tear from her cheek. She finally smiled, and the pressure on my chest eased.

  If only that weight hadn’t gone right to my cock.

  What the hell was wrong with me? I was trying to comfort this woman, a friend who needed help. And I couldn’t get our kiss out of my head. The one memory that might have been good to forget haunted me in forbidden and selfish pleasure.

  I was a gentleman. An honest man.

  But if I didn’t control myself, I wouldn’t be able to strap a cup on for practice.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “We’re already pretending to have a baby together. It’s time to take the next step—carpooling.”

  Rory checked the time. The mood swing shattered, and she dragged me out the door. “Oh, no! We’re going to be late!”

  We raced to the garage. Fortunately, I hadn’t put the doors or windows on the Rubicon, and we hopped right into the Jeep. Rory needed a minute after the vigorous exercise, but she waved for me to drive.

  “I’ll lean out if I get sick.” She pointed. “Go, go, go.”

  Good thing I had an expert navigator in my passenger seat. I wasn’t used to Ironfield, but Rory knew a shortcut that got us to the practice facility just in time to arrive with the team. We’d scheduled a public kiss, and our PDA quota for the day was met before we left the parking lot.

  Rory could check it off of the chart.

  I knew she was dedicated, but she had made a spreadsheet—in her spare time—to guarantee our appearances. She wanted to give the Rivets empirical evidence that we were a real couple.

  I didn’t argue. At least it got me a kiss, though as soon as I stepped onto the field, my focus switched to the game.

  After eleven seasons in the league, I knew how training camp worked. Conditioning in the hot sun day after day was taxing, but I was eager to prepare for our first exhibition game. This was the football I liked. Men on the field. Fans cheering from the stands. Players who ignored the heat and sweat and injuries to line up for one more drill.

  I made certain I was the first on the field and the last one off. It helped me to become the player I was. Yes, I was old. At the end of my career. But I understood the game better than anyone. Read the defenses. Saw the schemes. Knew where and when to block and juke. Age had destroyed my knees, but it honed my instincts, and I was going to use them to win.