by G. K. Brady
This woman’s comforting me? After the story she just told? You gotta be shitting me.
“No,” he croaked. “But I appreciate the offer.”
In that moment, it struck him he was capable of falling in love. Because he was pretty sure he was already there. And by some strange magic, he couldn’t care less if he had the time or not or if she had a child or not. None of that mattered. He’d met the woman he needed to meet, and she was a sweet, sultry songbird named Lily Everett.
His world had been tipped completely upside down. And it scared the shit out of him. Because unless he could convince her he should own a place in her heart—despite the dead husband already living there—he’d never be able to set it right side up again.
Chapter 17
Shall He Do Her?
Days after Gage’s return from his road trip, Lily was working in his office, surrounded by boxes holding fan mail she’d been opening, reading, and sorting. Hobbes lounged in a late-morning, sun-splashed corner of the desk, flicking her tail in time with soft jazz playing in the background. A tall shadow slid down the hall.
“How’s your grandmother?” Lily called out.
“Much better, thanks,” Gage called back. “Everything seems to be back to normal at good ol’ Skyview Acres.”
Lily slit open a letter and pulled out a folded piece of pink paper. Her eyes quickly scanned the contents. “Oh my God,” she shrieked. “This … this …”
Gage stuck his damp head around the door frame. “What’s going on?”
Apparently, she’d gotten somewhat comfortable padding around his place without him there because moments like this—when his sexy self appeared out of nowhere—jarred her while simultaneously igniting her. Even with the telltale yellow-green hue of his fading bruise and the angry gash above his eye, he was all delectable hotness. And he seemed to be getting better and better looking every time she laid eyes on him, if that were even possible.
There was that urge to fan herself again, which she deftly ignored. “She describes—in graphic detail—what she wants to do to you,” she spluttered instead. “And my God, her name!”
His interest obviously piqued, he stepped fully into the office and cocked his head. “What’s her name?”
She rolled her eyes. “Shally Dewar.”
He blinked. “Shall he do her? As in—” A light bulb seemed to wink on, and a grin spread over his face.
“I swear, the crazies box is overflowing with letters just like this one. Is this normal?”
“Normal for what?” He came closer, leaning in over her shoulder, his eyes traveling to where her finger pointed. Fresh from morning skate, he’d just showered, and a heavenly man smell wrapped her up and clouded her brain.
Apparently, his brain was functioning at its usual above-average speed. “If you’re talking about the licking part and riding me all night long, yeah, that’s pretty normal,” he said matter-of-factly. “As for the handcuffs and blindfolding me with my tie? Those are an interesting twist I haven’t seen in a while. Could be fun.” He shrugged. “Most women propose sucking and licking—so do the guys—that’s standard fare. I guess the other stuff is too.” He shifted his gaze back to her, the hint of a smirk hiding in his beard. “Are you offended, Goldilocks?”
“Me?” she squeaked. “No, but you should be.” She reminded herself of the prim librarian stereotype: so tightly laced she’d need a button hook to get herself unwound. Which she wasn’t. Even if she was performing an awesome imitation of one.
Her mind took a wander to his drawer full of women, just waiting to be plucked out of their hiding place. Did they elbow each other when he opened that drawer? “Pick me, Gage, pick me!” Had any of them come from letters like these?
“By ‘other stuff,’” she repeated, “you mean …”
He casually planted a hand on the back of her chair and the other on the desk, his rigid arm so close its warmth teased her shoulder. She tried to round up her gallivanting thoughts, tried not to picture Gage’s broad back underneath his tight T-shirt. She was a back-and-shoulders girl, and Gage’s were an outstanding example, all defined muscle under smooth skin. The sight had been on a loop inside her head since last July and hadn’t gotten old. But she was also a strong-rough-hands kinda girl, and the recollection of his on her body played on a separate loop. She averted her gaze from the hand currently gripping the edge of the desk.
His dark eyebrows peaked over very amused, crystal-clear eyes tinged in different shades of the Caribbean Sea. “Sexual intercourse. Yes. That’s what I meant. Like what you and I—”
She craned her neck to put some distance between them. “What she’s describing, Professor, isn’t straightforward, missionary-style, vanilla sex.”
Now his eyebrows kissed his hairline. “As I recall, neither was what we engaged in. Well, at least not one time. And there was plenty of”—he bent over, peering at the letter as though reading—“licking and sucking that night too. On both our parts. You were pretty enthusiastic and plainly weren’t offended since you yourself suggested a few of those other-flavored positions.”
A hot flush surged over every square inch of her skin. “I didn’t suggest anything!”
Still bracketing her in the office chair, he darted his eyes to the ceiling. “Well, maybe not verbally. Nonverbally, you were very clear. And it was”—his voice took on that gravelly quality—“incredibly. Insanely. Hot.”
Heat engulfed her face. She’d need a fire extinguisher any minute now. He was obviously getting a big kick out of this. “I don’t remember being … assertive,” she muttered.
“Trust me, you were. I have excellent recall.” He leaned down closer, his mouth inches from her ear, his warm, moist breath a soft caress. “In fact, I recall it all the time. And I haven’t forgotten a single detail,” he whispered, sending shivers up her spine. Her body betrayed her with a telltale shudder.
Upright again, he shot her a devilish grin. This was a different side of his personality, and, God, it was turning her body into an incendiary device. Forget the fire extinguisher. She needed to dunk herself in one of the team’s ice baths.
What did it say about her that Cocky Gage, combined with Sexy Gage, got all her pistons firing at top-fuel-dragster speed? Did top-fuel dragsters have pistons? Who cares?
With a tap of his finger on the letter, he grew more serious. “These we ignore. File them away, but don’t acknowledge.”
Her brain came back on board. So did her snark. “In other words, I don’t send them the autographed eight-by-ten glossy of you posing naked with a strategically placed helmet that says, ‘Eat me’ on it?” Don’t picture it, Lil, just don’t!
With a laugh that seemed to rumble through his chest, he pivoted and headed for the door, where he stopped, turned, and smirked. “It’s nice to hear you say it takes something as big as a helmet to cover my junk. Apple?”
Her head on spin cycle, she repeated his question. “Apple?”
“Okay. I’ll bring you one too. Be right back.” With a wink and a waggle, he was gone.
Oh my God!
Lily dropped her head on her arms and broke into an unstoppable giggle fest. This man is going to be the death of me! The thought occurred to her that there were worse ways to go.
When Lily had first screeched, Gage had expected to find a mouse or a spider or something sinister crawling on her. Instead, she’d shaken another pervy letter at him. The letters were ridiculous and normally got tossed as soon as they were opened, but Lily’s shock was turning it into a game that had him in stitches. Her reaction was adorable. She was adorable. And sexy all at the same time, which, he was discovering, was a lethal combination.
He took a moment, or five, to rearrange himself before grabbing two apples from a bowl on his kitchen counter. Sauntering back to the office, he tossed one at her, which she caught and promptly placed on the desk.
“Let’s read another one,” he goaded. Game on, Lily Everett.
She gaped at him.
Pinching the letter by its corners, she scanned the contents, her pretty blue eyes getting rounder by the second. He held back a slew of snickers.
“This woman not only describes what she’d like to do to you but wonders if you’d like to meet her. She’s given you her home address and will even tell you where she’s hidden a key, for God’s sake!”
He burst out with the laugh he could no longer hold back. “Oh, is that all?”
“Is that all? You mean this is also normal?”
“God yeah. Some even mail me the key with the letter.” An exaggeration, but it was too fun to resist. He took a satisfying chomp of the crispy apple. “So what does this one want to do to me? I might be interested,” he teased.
Lily shot him daggers. “Ew. Just ew.” After a beat, she said, “You should steer clear of fans like this.” She shook the letter under his nose.
“You really think so?” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I dunno. She is making it easy for me—”
“Because she’s easy,” she snapped. “And probably diseased.”
He coughed to mask a laugh. “Yeah, but this one’s leaving a trail of big, fat crumbs that a blind man could follow, and it has been a while.” He caught her eyes with his. “Since T.J.’s wedding, to be exact.”
Surprise and disbelief played in her sparkly blues. “No way,” she tossed back, her voice sounding a bit wobbly, as if she wasn’t sure.
“No? You been spying on me?”
A bright blush washed over her cheeks, and he was pretty sure her cute ass was squirming in the chair. He loved it. As his mind leapt to how he might get his hands between said cute ass and the seat, she stammered out, “N-no, but you are a hockey player—”
The good feels evaporated. “And you’re a singer, and we all know about rock stars, don’t we?” He bounced his eyebrows on his forehead. “How long’s it been for you?” Shit. I don’t want to know.
She barked out a laugh. “Why, an hour ago, of course! With my reverse harem of firefighters.”
“What’s a reverse harem? Oh! Didn’t know that was a thing. You’re kidding, right, about a reverse harem? And why firefighters?” He exaggerated a scoff.
She gave him a dramatic eye-roll. “Yes, Professor, I’m kidding. Why firefighters? Because they do it with heat.”
“Ha! Cute.”
“As for your comment, I’m not sure if I should be flattered or completely insulted. On the one hand, I think you’re calling me a rock star. On the other hand, I also think you’re calling me a slut.”
“You’re kinda dodging my question.” The question I don’t really want answered unless it’s a good answer. So why the hell do I keep asking?
“Which question?”
He rolled his hand in a hurry-along motion. “How long?”
“Is that any of your business?”
“No, it’s not.”
Her eyes slid to the side, and she blew out an exasperated-sounding breath. Yeah, he was a complete idiot. “The wedding,” she conceded quietly, and a small riot broke out in his stomach. He almost punched his fist in the air and shouted out a “Yes!”
“Speaking of dodging, Professor, I’d like an explanation for your slut comment.”
“Ah. I didn’t actually call you a slut, nor do I think you resemble anything remotely slut-like. I was just making a point about presumptions. Being a hockey player doesn’t make me a player. And just because I get lots of stupid letters and I slept with you that night doesn’t mean I fall into bed with every woman who asks. Actually, come to think of it,” he took another bite, “you didn’t really ask. You just kind of, you know, seduced me.”
“Seduced you?” she squawked.
“I seem to recall someone asking someone else not to leave.”
The look on her face was unreadable. Part-sheepishness, but she also seemed to be holding something back. Her eyes traveled to the ceiling, then landed back on him. “And being the gentleman you are, you had no choice but to let me seduce you, am I right?”
He gave her a wicked grin and shook his head. “I don’t recall being a gentleman that night.”
She paused mid-protest, her mouth hanging open. Her face and throat were covered with bright pink blotches that reminded him of what her skin had looked like right after sex. Yeah, he should stop, but it was so much fun to rile her up. And she was hotter than hell when she was riled up. Which was riling him up. Shit. He stuffed what was left of the apple in his mouth, grabbed a box of letters, and sat with it in his lap.
“These are letters from the kids?” He was going for casual, but his voice betrayed him when it cracked an octave higher. He eyed his half-eaten apple before returning his gaze to her. “So. How are you going to respond on my behalf to this vixen who wants to assault me with her tongue?”
Lily’s eyes widened, if that were possible, and an unintelligible croaking noise rolled from her throat. She straightened her shoulders, striking a dignified pose. “You didn’t read the letter, so how do you know what she wrote?”
“Because they all write the same thing,” he sighed. “Does this one describe what kind of outfit she’ll wear?” He gave her another eyebrow waggle and took a bite of his apple.
Lily barked out a laugh, then proceeded to hiccup. “Okay. I see what you’re doing here. I’ll just answer for you and tell her, ‘Meet me at Bar Louie Friday at five o’clock.’ Better yet, in the parking lot? No point in spending money on cocktails if you don’t have to.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Put that one in a file in case she decides to stalk my ass, which she probably won’t, but otherwise forget it.”
“Sorry you can’t indulge your fantasies, Professor?” Sporting a smug look, she folded her arms across her chest, the little minx.
“Oh, don’t you worry about me. I indulge my fantasies just fine. Usually, I’m in the shower, and I’m picturing this beautiful blond, and she’s got these gorgeous blue eyes, and this nice—”
Lily put up a hand. “I don’t want to hear about your Kathryn Tappen fantasies.”
“They’re not about her. Didn’t I mention this particular blond has long, curly hair?”
She blinked. “Stop. Right. There. Just stop.”
“Okay,” he chuckled. “Sorry.” Not. Especially after getting an eyeful of that tantalizing telltale blush.
She dropped her forehead into her hand. “I was just thinking the other day how nice it was that you weren’t one of those cocky athletes, but I stand corrected.”
“Don’t you mean confident?” he tossed out and nearly gave himself a Grandma head slap.
She groaned in response. Not a good kind of groan.
“Damn. And here I thought I was playful and endearing.”
“And I didn’t know you were a smartass.”
“And I didn’t know how many shades of pink your face turns. Like right now it’s flaming pink. See all this great stuff we’re learning about each other now that you’re here?”
With a headshake, she returned to her letters. “Just go away.” She was fighting a losing battle with the giggles, which shot him through with warmth. Making her laugh might have just become his new all-time favorite thing to do.
Unfortunately, her giggle battle did other things to him, like cause his growing problem to transform into a full-masted problem. He waited until her back was turned and stood, box in front of him, mumbling about going through the kids’ letters himself because they were his favorites. As he lurched out of the office, his mind grasped at inventorying the mites’ gear, filling out insurance for
ms, deciphering musical notes—anything to keep him from lingering on the curve of Lily’s neck or the flare of her hips or the pink pout of her lips.
In the family room, he sat down with the box and stared at its contents without seeing them. Mentally, he meandered in and around the game tonight, the playoffs, the chase for the Cup. Despite his mind’s wanderings, though, it was never far from Lily. He could practically feel the strings growing, attaching him more solidly to her, to her world.
Fifteen minutes later, she tiptoed out from the office. “Finished for today. I have to hit the grocery store before the bus drops Daisy off.”
He stood and came toward her until a mere foot separated them. “Ah.”
“And if I’m not mistaken, it’s about nap time for you, right?” Her lips curved in a way that wasn’t exactly suggestive, though it nudged his mind toward the suggestive side.
Right. Nap. He had a game tonight. He needed to focus. But damn if his head didn’t succumb to his dick and leap to a different sort of nap—one that involved no sleep with a sexy blond. “You sure you can’t be there tonight?”
She shook her head, and her curls bounced around her. He pictured the silk twisted around his fingers. “I wish I could, but there’s no one to watch Daisy.” She gave him a cute pout.
“I’ll get a ticket for her too.”
“It’s a school night.”
Tongue-tied, his synapses firing haphazardly, he was incapable of lobbing a retort because desire lit him like a damn torch. He needed to wrestle the beast back where it belonged.
He blew out an exasperated breath. “Nothing says you have to stay for the entire game. Just leave before the end.”
Blue eyes stared into his, and for a moment the space between them seemed to shrink, their bodies leaning closer together. It was becoming difficult to breathe.