by Anna DePalo
“Jordan and Matt had a bet—”
“Players often do.”
“—that he couldn’t seduce you. Or, uh, to be more precise, make you ‘melt.’”
She froze. It was like Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew, and she knew what her role was. Her lips tightened. Yes, she was pissed off. But she was going to hold her fire and question Jordan at the appropriate time. Have him explain himself. If he could.
She sighed, conceding her brother’s good intentions in telling her all this. “Thanks, Dante.” She watched a cloud pass in front of the sun, darkening the inside of her car. “I owe you.” Poor Sera, saved by her family again.
Surprisingly, though, she didn’t get an immediate wisecrack from Dante. Instead, her brother matched her tone of resignation. “What are siblings for? Anyway, these days, you’ve been coming to my aid just as much. More, actually.”
Dante’s words were almost enough to bring a smile to her face. Because he was right—and there was the small silver lining to her current predicament.
* * *
She was a mature and intelligent woman. Or so Sera kept reminding herself.
In the days since speaking with her brother, she’d come up with a plan—once she was done being miffed. She was willing to give Jordan the benefit of the doubt. After all, she’d witnessed plenty of ribbing banter while waitressing at the Puck & Shoot, just as she’d told Dante. The best strategy might be to beat Jordan and his buddies at their own game.
Could it have been only a week since Constance and Oliver’s wedding? So much had happened, including the buildup of sexual frustration. Work and other commitments had kept her and Jordan apart except for physical therapy, and then Dante’s news had led her to bide her time until tonight, when Jordan had suggested dinner out at Altavista.
She and Jordan had been served wine but had yet to order their meal. Time to have a little fun.
She leaned close, drawing Jordan’s attention, so she could keep her voice low. “I’ve been thinking all week about Saturday night.”
Jordan’s eyes kindled. “What a coincidence. So have I.”
“Hmm.” And not just so he could claim to have won a stupid bet?
“I don’t want to rush you, but, yeah—” the corner of his mouth turned up “—I’ve wanted a repeat.”
She dipped the top of her finger into the top of her wineglass and then, without breaking eye contact, brought that finger to her lips.
Jordan swallowed, his throat working.
She knew him well enough now to recognize the flare of arousal. They occupied a cozy corner table for two, where they could engage in semipublic flirtation without attracting too much attention. She wanted to have some fun while she made him eat his words.
Deliberately, she let her leg brush against his. Her wrap dress clung to her breasts, and she leaned forward, knowing her cleavage would be on full display. “I want to make you melt.”
“Sera,” he said in a low voice, his gaze kindling, “the appetizer hasn’t even arrived, and you’re—”
“Ready for dessert?” She trailed the wine-stained finger from her collarbone to the swell of her breasts.
Jordan cleared his throat and lowered his eyes to follow the motion of her finger.
“I came straight from work. I’m a little...breathless.”
He lifted his gaze then and fixed it on her. “You’re wearing clingy dresses in your therapy sessions these days? For which client?”
She gave a throaty laugh. “Don’t be silly. I changed into my thong and dress in the bathroom before I drove over here.”
Jordan sucked in a breath. “You’re playing with me, aren’t you?”
Yes, she was enjoying turning the tables.
“I don’t know what’s put you in this mood—”
“Well, it’s been a while since we’ve had sex. Now that I’ve had a taste, I want more.”
He groaned, and she gave him a naughty smile.
Jordan thrust his crumpled napkin onto the table. “That’s it. Let’s go. I’ll leave a big tip for the wine we ordered and for the meal we didn’t.”
“But we haven’t had dinner.”
His gaze was hot on her face. “We’ll order in. After.”
“Jordan,” she murmured, “you look a little flushed. Are you hot?”
“Yeah, for you,” he growled back, waving away an approaching waiter. “Great invitation, by the way. I accept.”
She curved her lips and then shifted in her seat. She took a large swallow from her water glass to steady herself and then regarded him over the rim.
“Sera.” There was an edge to his voice. “We need to leave now. Otherwise I won’t be able to without—”
“Mmm. Wouldn’t want your teammates to see that, would we?”
“Exactly.”
“After all, you’re the one who’s supposed to make me melt.”
Jordan stilled and then groaned again. Except this time, the sound was self-deprecating.
Sera tilted her head and regarded him.
“I can explain.”
“I’m sure. I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Who told you? Dante?” he said on an exhale. “Sera, it was a ridiculous bet—”
“At my expense.”
“And a flippant remark—”
“To uphold the great and mighty Jordan Serenghetti reputation?”
“Damn it.”
“Amen.”
“Are you going to make me grovel?”
“Or at least work for it,” she replied teasingly. “Let me help you out here. ‘I was just being one of the guys.’”
“Check.”
“‘We don’t wear emotion well.’”
“Check.”
“‘It was false male bravado. Psych 101.’”
“Check again.” He took her hand. “I’ll take it from here. I’m frustrated about not being on the ice. Getting grief about you from my teammates was heaping—”
“Insult onto injury?” she asked drolly.
He looked sheepish. “Yeah. I didn’t want to go there with them...about you. Because it was you, and you’re special.”
“I’m going to have to get tough with the Razors crew.”
Jordan smiled. “They already know you can kick ass on TV.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Forgiven?”
“I ought to make you take cooking lessons live for a season.”
Jordan shuddered. “Please. The last episode nearly did me in.” Then he sobered. “Anyway, this isn’t about some asinine bet or tit for tat. The truth is I’ve lost track of which one of us owes a favor to the other. Because somewhere along the way, I stopped caring. Except about being with you.”
Wow. She wanted to believe those words. His bet had cast doubt on what she’d thought was something genuine and true and beautiful. She still had faith in him, but it had been nicked. But then, she hadn’t expected him to crack open with emotional honesty tonight.
“I had this germ of a plan to make a major donation to Welsdale Children’s Hospital,” Jordan went on after a pause. “Thanks to you, I might still have a career that’ll make that possible.”
She blinked.
“It’ll be a hospital addition for rehabilitation facilities. Because I understand how important physical therapy is.”
Sera parted her lips on an indrawn breath. She’d started out annoyed and ready to teach him a lesson, but somehow they’d ended up in a place where he held her heart.
Jordan caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I have a meeting with hospital management in the next few weeks. I’d like you to be there.”
She blinked again. It wasn’t a marriage proposal, but this was heady stuff. He was asking her to weigh in on a major life
decision—one that would involve millions of dollars. “Why?”
“You’ll have a perspective on things that I won’t. I value your opinion.” He gave a lopsided smile. “You’re important to me.”
His words were sexier than any underwear billboard. On impulse, she cupped his face and kissed him, heedless of the other diners scattered through the dim restaurant.
When she sat back, Jordan laughed.
“Hey,” he said, “I wasn’t joking earlier when I said we needed to get out of here fast. Any more PDAs and—”
“—we’ll be putting on an R-rated performance?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you have a knack for finishing my sentences?”
“We’re on the same wavelength.”
“That’s not all I’d like to be,” Jordan growled.
“Get the check, Serenghetti.”
Twelve
By the time he and Sera arrived back at his place, it was all Jordan could do to hold himself in check until they stepped off the elevator inside his apartment.
“This place is different than I remember,” she remarked. “But then, I was a little shaken up after the accident and maybe not picking up the same details.”
He was shaken up now. He kissed the back of her neck and let his hands roam up her body.
He wanted to make love to her again. It was a need he hadn’t experienced this sharply...ever.
She’d surprised him with her reaction to the ridiculous challenge he’d taken up with Marc. Another woman might have given him the silent treatment and left him to guess why.
But Sera had...attitude. She drove him crazy and made him ache with need.
Even in his sleep, he could taste her and inhale her scent. And ever since their encounter after the wedding, he’s been itching to get her alone. He’d meant it when he said all he could think about these days was being with her.
When they got to his bedroom, he turned her around to face him and kissed her. She met him with a longing of her own, her mouth tangling with his.
He pulled at the tie at her waist and her dress fell open. He drank her in with his eyes. “You’re a fantasy come true, Sera.”
They kissed again, and he inched her in the direction of his bed. Within a few steps, her dress fell to the floor, followed by his shirt.
He cupped her breasts, feeling their luxurious weight and letting his thumbs move over the twin peaks covered by the thin fabric of her bra.
“Do you like my hands on you?” he murmured.
“Yesss.” Her breath was shallow and rapid, her pupils dilated.
He wanted her to feel the depth of his need and reciprocate it. He wanted to bring her pleasure.
Sliding his hands under her arms, he unhooked her bra at the back and watched those glorious breasts spill against him.
Then holding her gaze, he bent and gave attention to each breast with his mouth.
She moaned, and her fingers tangled in his hair. “Jordan...”
He closed his eyes, focusing on drawing one peak into his mouth and then the other.
Sera’s knees bent, and she leaned in to him.
Yes. He told her all the things he wanted to do with her, until her breath came in rapid rasps. Her skin tasted flowery, making him want her all the more.
When he straightened, his hand went to the juncture of her thighs. “You are so ready for me, Angel.”
She had a half-lidded look, her color heightened, her lips red.
“It’s going to be so good. I’ve been waiting for days for a repeat.”
She wet her lips and then stroked her hand up and down his erection. “Please.”
He breathed deep. “What do you want?”
In response, she surprised him by undoing his belt and stripping him out of his pants. She pressed kisses to his bare chest, making him groan. And then she stroked him with a sure hand, bringing him ever closer to the brink.
“Ah, Sera.”
She bent before him and took him in her mouth, loving him.
Jordan’s eyes closed on a wave of pleasure. When he couldn’t take anymore—knowing he was unbearably close—he tugged her up and stripped her underwear from her.
She lay back on the beige comforter covering his bed, her hair splayed around her.
Jordan fumbled with some protection from a nearby dresser drawer and then braced himself over her.
Holding her gaze as her legs came around him, he sheathed himself inside her, and they both sighed.
Jordan gritted his teeth. “You’re so damn hot and tight. So good.”
He began to move, and she met him stroke for stroke. Jordan closed his eyes, intent on drawing out the interlude. Within minutes, however, it was too much for both of them.
Sera lifted her hips and arched her back with her climax, and watching her glorious reaction, Jordan came apart himself, his hoarse groan a testament to reaching a new peak.
Afterward, he slumped against her and gathered her to him, and they were both content to let sleep claim them.
* * *
Sera reflected that the only word that could sum up the past week or so was idyllic. She and Jordan had snuck away to spend a weekend at a cozy bungalow he had on Cape Cod, taking a balloon ride over the wooded fields and overall enjoying living in their own new and kaleidoscopic little world.
Now as she and Jordan arrived hand in hand at a local movie theater near Welsdale, Sera found herself both content to enjoy the evening and bursting with plans for their burgeoning relationship. Jordan’s recovery was going so well, soon they’d be able to head to the boxing gym together. And in future outings to Cape Cod, they could water-ski, take a boat out on the water and even go parasailing. Jordan had dared her to try the last.
“Jordan, Jordan!”
The paparazzo came out of nowhere, camera flashing like a firearm. Sera bent her head down as she and Jordan headed toward the doors of the theater. So far, they’d been able to duck photographers despite his celebrity. Probably the fact that it was the off-season and he’d been convalescing helped.
Sera didn’t delude herself, however, that their honeymoon would last forever. Jordan was too well-known. And while they’d been able to keep their relationship under wraps until recently even from their families, this photographer meant she’d have to figure out fast how to deal with being outed. The fact that she and Jordan were holding hands was a giveaway that they were more than casual acquaintances.
As the photographer snapped away, he also jogged to catch up to them. “Any comment on the news report?”
“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Jordan tossed back.
“Are you denying that you’re the father of Lauren Zummen’s child?”
Sera stiffened and swung her gaze to Jordan, whose expression had turned grim.
“Anything you want to say?”
“Again, no.”
In the next moment, Jordan changed course and was hustling her back to his car—obviously trying to shake the paparazzo.
“No denial?” the photographer called out after them.
“How did you know where we were?” Jordan asked, not looking behind him.
“I have my sources.” The paparazzo sounded cheery.
Stunned, Sera silently followed Jordan. Suddenly, what their families might think of their relationship was the least of her problems. And her concern about the stupid bet he’d made with his teammates seemed laughable in comparison.
They both said nothing as they got into the car and Jordan pulled away from the curb, leaving their pursuer far behind them. Obviously, a night out couldn’t happen now. They’d be sitting ducks for more unwanted attention.
Sera felt a roaring in her ears. Finally, she forced herself to say, “Do you know what he was talking about?”
She could tell from Jordan’s face that he had
some inkling at least—and he’d chosen to say nothing to her about it.
“There are rumors...”
She gripped her handbag, pressing her knuckles into the folds. She could’ve heard those rumors at any time and would have been unprepared to deal with them. She was unprepared to deal with them now. “Where are we going?”
“Back to your place because it’s closer, so we can talk. Privately.”
She took his words as confirmation of her worst suspicions and briefly closed her eyes. “So there’s a baby?”
Jordan nodded, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Did you know the mother?” She felt as if she was chewing sawdust as she said it.
“The first time I heard her last name attached to the rumors is when the photographer just said it. Yes, I knew her. But once and for a short time.”
“Once is all it takes, isn’t it?” she retorted.
This time, he did glance at her. “There’s no proof that I’m the father.”
“And there’s nothing to say you’re not.”
Jordan hit his palm against the steering wheel. “You’re asking me to prove a negative when I haven’t even taken a paternity test.”
How could this be happening to her again? Was she a marked woman? She’d now dated two men who’d had families—children—she hadn’t known about. For the second time, she’d experienced the most brutal deception.
“Sera, those kinds of accusations are not that uncommon for professional athletes.”
She knew what he was saying. Sports stars were targets for fortune hunters. Her own cousin Marisa was the product of a pro athlete’s short-term liaison, though Aunt Donna hadn’t asked for or received a penny from Marisa’s father, whose minor-league baseball dreams had died along with him in a freak accident.
“The story is that the girl is two and a half,” Jordan said quietly.
“When are you going to take a paternity test?”
He didn’t take his eyes off the road—didn’t glance at her. “This allegation has come out of the blue. I need to have Marv, my agent, arrange to investigate it.”