The Big Bad Wolf Tells All

by Donna Kauffman

  He grinned even as he flushed. She loved it that she could make this man who seemed so sure of himself be self-conscious, even for a moment.

  “Okay, your turn.” She took a breath. “Why me?”

  He answered instantly. “Because no one else could wear wet, soggy bunny slippers and make me want them as much as I want you.”

  Surprised, to say the least, she glanced down at her feet, hadn’t even thought about what was on them when she’d given up trying to pretend he wasn’t out here and dashed into the rain. “And I’ve been wasting all that money on Jimmy Choo and Prada. Who knew the secret to a man’s heart was soggy bunnies?”

  “Come here,” he said, and pulled her closer still, lowered his lips to hers. “I don’t want to screw this up,” he said against her mouth.

  She smiled, feeling her heart pitch forward and take that final free-fall. “As long as I’ve got my trusty footwear, I think we’ll be fine.”

  He smiled as he kissed her, then looked back into her eyes. “The real reason it’s you is because you’re the last person who looks like she needs rescuing. And yet when I look at you, I can’t help but want to save you.”

  “I’ve never needed saving.”

  He nodded, smiled. “I know that. But I don’t know how else to explain it. I can’t help the feeling. And I’m actually arrogant enough to think I’m the man to do it, to be there for you, and at the same time pretty much terrified that I’m not.”

  “Oh, Riley—”

  He shook his head. “But here’s the tricky part. I never thought I needed to be rescued, either.” He tipped her chin up, dipped his head, brushed his lips against hers. “So explain to me, then, why, when I look at you, when you kiss me, something inside of me feels saved.”

  Then he kissed her again, and again, and Tanzy mercifully let her need for him take over. She better than anyone understood the power of words . . . and yet his had stunned her, robbed her of the ability to analyze, rationalize, compartmentalize.

  She shifted, wanting to be closer, and was surprised when he flinched in pain. She pulled back, intending to find out what was wrong. But instead she screamed.

  Because just on the other side of the window stood a young black man of monolithic proportions, a wide smile beaming from his surprisingly cherubic face.

  Obligations.

  What do we really owe the people we love? Do we owe them labor we would not otherwise choose to commit to? After all, if they truly loved us, would they honestly expect us to do something we didn’t want to do?

  Would they feel right, benefiting from those labors? Would we feel better doing it if it had been our idea in the first place? If so, then who are we really doing it for? The good of the family? Self-gratification? Maybe a little of both isn’t so bad. But it would be much easier to figure out if guilt could be taken out of the mix. Too often guilt blurs the line separating what does get done from what should be done.

  Chapter 16

  Riley swore while Tanzy scrambled from his lap back across the center console, certain she’d crippled him for life. “It’s okay,” he bit out, groping for the window switch.

  “You know him?” Her eyes were wide, her skin pale. And it hit him that she’d thought J.B. might be SoulM8. Oh sure, getting involved won’t cloud your judgment. Jesus, they’d been sitting in a car, making out like teenagers, free targets for anyone.

  “Yeah,” he said, stabbing the window button. “I know him.”

  “Dear God, he’s huge,” she whispered. “Is he harmless?”

  “Only off the field.” The window skimmed down and he turned to face J.B. “What the hell are you doing?”

  J.B.’s smile wavered. He lifted a large padded mailer. “Special delivery, Coach.”

  Tanzy perked up, her color rushing back, right along with her inborn curiosity. “Coach?”

  “I waited at the corner,” J.B. said, “but you didn’t show. I saw your truck, so . . .” He leaned down so he could wave at Tanzy. “Sorry I interrupted.”

  Riley snatched the package from J.B. and fished his wallet out of his pants. He passed him some bills. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  Naturally J.B. didn’t get the hint. Not because he was the stereotypical dumb jock. He just wasn’t ready to leave. And at six-five, three-forty, nobody usually made J.B. do anything he wasn’t ready to do. There were some exceptions, however. Riley was one of them.

  “Don’t you have classes to study for?”

  “I’m up to speed, Coach.”

  “Coach?” Tanzy repeated. “You coach this guy? In what?”

  Riley didn’t know whether to be affronted at her apparent surprise that he was capable of such a thing, or just annoyed at the topic in general. “He should be so lucky,” Riley said, but J.B. was leaning down again, smiling over at Tanzy.

  “You don’t know who the man is?” he asked incredulously. Obviously assuming that a woman who had just moments ago been sprawled in a compromising position with “the man” in the cab of a truck would know who she’d been sprawling with.

  Tanzy shook her head, her gaze darting to Riley, then back to J.B. again. “Apparently I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me.”

  Riley just groaned. If he thought there was a chance it would knock any sense into him, he’d have thumped his forehead on the steering wheel.

  J.B. was beaming. “Back in the day, our man Riley here—”

  At Riley’s glare, he quickly corrected himself. “Coach Parrish was a cornerback for the Pioneers. Known as R.P., number twenty-one. They used to call him Rocket Power.” J.B. smiled proudly. “He put the special in special teams.”

  Tanzy swung a surprised look at Riley, then grinned. “Really.”

  Riley noted it took about five seconds longer for the grin to waver as the rest of it clicked in. No one would ever accuse Tanzy Harrington of being slow.

  “So, the guy at the dance? From another job? He recognized you, didn’t he?”

  Riley just sighed and nodded.

  Her eyes widened farther as the wheels continued to spin. “And the radio show, when you wouldn’t give your name? Afraid someone would call in and spill the beans?” She shook her head and sighed. “And here I thought you were being endearingly shy.”

  “Hey. I can be as endearing as the next guy,” Riley shot back, affronted. J.B. just snorted behind him, but quickly wiped the smirk off his face when Riley swiveled around to glare at him.

  “Totally endearing,” J.B. agreed solemnly.

  “So, Rocket Power, how famous were you?” Tanzy asked, but when he shifted the look to her, she quickly amended it to, “Are you?”

  “It was a long time ago, and for a very short time. No one remembers me, I’m sure. Now can we please—”

  “Blew out the knee,” J.B. said, with a sad shake of his head. “A sorry day for the NFL. Pioneers haven’t gone the distance since.”

  Now Riley rolled his eyes. “I was a punt returner, J.B., not the quarterback.”

  J.B.’s grin returned. “And faster than Darryl Green, slicker than Deion Sanders.”

  Riley gave up and simply punched the button to put the window up. Tanzy was faster, hitting the button on her side and lowering it right back down again. “How do you know Riley, J.B.? He was probably before your time.” She shot Riley a fast grin when he scowled.

  “He’s an alumnus of SFSU,” J.B. said. “Helps us out from time to time.” As if finally remembering his manners, he leaned past Riley and stuck out his hand. “Jamal Brown. Folks just call me J.B.”

  Tanzy leaned across the console and shook his hand, which totally swallowed hers. Riley frowned. Nothing against J.B., but he wanted those smooth, slim hands on him. Time to end this little tête-à-tête.

  “Tanzy Harrington,” she said. “Folks just call me—”

  “Ms. Harrington,” Riley interjected.

  She rolled her eyes. “Make me sound ancient, why don’t you?”

  “Isn’t he a little before your time?” Riley mimicked, then
rolled his eyes right back at her. Which only made her laugh.

  But J.B.’s eyes had bugged out and he blurted, “You’re the Tanzy Harrington? With the column? On the Internet?”

  Surprised, as her audience tended to skew a bit older . . . and decidedly female, she nodded. “That’s me. You’ve read my column?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve caught you on the Billy Mac and JoJo Show, though. You’re off the hook.” The “for an old chick” was implied.

  “I assume being ‘off the hook’ is a good thing?” she murmured to Riley.

  “Oh, definitely,” Riley said. “The cat’s meow, even.”

  J.B. was oblivious. “My older sister reads your stuff, lectures me on how to treat the ladies.” He grinned then, and not for the first time Riley thought it was amazing how young and innocent a three-hundred-pound man could look. “Wait till I tell her I met you.”

  Riley put a hand on J.B.’s forearm. “I don’t think Ms. Harrington would appreciate details—”

  J.B. merely shook his head, looking sadly disappointed. “I’m not about that, Coach. I can be subtle.”

  “Yeah, right. Be discreet, too, while you’re at it. And the b in subtle is silent,” Riley added. “Just like you’re going to be about this little meeting. You dig?”

  Tanzy was obviously struggling not to laugh out loud at J.B.’s comical facial expressions. Riley didn’t look at her, or he’d have ended up laughing, too. Totally blow his badass rep with the guys. What little of one he had left. “You’re a bad influence,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

  “And don’t you forget it,” she shot back.

  J.B. shook his head, opened his mouth, shut it again, then laughed. “I can’t even say it. Don’t be such a fossil, Coach. ‘You dig,’ “ he repeated, then giggled, making his entire midsection rumble. It looked like an earthquake inside a football jersey.

  “He’s really cute,” Tanzy said.

  “Yeah, like a baby rhino.” Riley tapped the window button again. “Time to roll, J.B. Thanks for the delivery.”

  “Yeah, no problem.” He smacked the top of the roof, making Riley wince. J.B. had hands like hams. Riley was surprised the roof didn’t buckle in. “When are you going to trade this thing up, anyway?” J.B. asked. “Have you checked out the new Escalade?” He hummed. “They are tight.”

  “We’re tight enough, thanks,” Riley said, then glared at J.B. when he started to explain. “I was kidding. I know what it means. Now beat it.” Sometimes you had to hit him over the head. Or crush his fingers in the window. Whatever worked.

  J.B. sighed. “Always dissing me, man. It’s a good thing you pay well.” He patted his pockets, then bent down and looked over to Tanzy one last time. The smile came out again, in full cherubic force. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Harrington,” he said ever-so-formally as he tipped his chin in a little bow. Then ended by shooting a smug little “See?” smirk at Riley. “Subtle. Hunh.” He sauntered away, still smiling.

  “He’s something else,” Tanzy said, laughing. “Glad I don’t have to feed him, though. I’d need a government grant.”

  Riley couldn’t help it, he grinned. No matter how irritated, frustrated, you name it, he got, she made him smile. “I was thinking of that WWE-size fridge at Millicent’s.” He chuckled. “It would be a minibar for J.B.”

  Tanzy nodded, watching J.B. as he disappeared around the corner. “How many others are there? That you help out, I mean.”

  Riley shrugged. “A couple.” It was more like most of the offensive linemen and special teams players, but it wasn’t important. “They help me out, too. It’s an even trade.”

  “I’m not so sure,” she said. And then she got that look on her face.

  “Oh no, don’t do that.”

  “What?” she said, eyes wide.

  He didn’t buy the innocent tone. “You know what. Analyze me. I don’t fit into any neat compartment, trust me.”

  “Oh, that I know. But as for analyzing, fair is fair. You’ve got me pretty well pegged, it seems.”

  Riley snorted. “Fifty years and I’ll never have you even half pegged, trust me.”

  “Is that a sexist remark?”

  “Hardly. Give yourself some credit.”

  “Hmm.” She leaned back, folded her arms, lips curved in a satisfied smile. “I rather like thinking I’m bold and mysterious.”

  Riley couldn’t help it. He reached for her. It was automatic, like breathing. And it amazed him, now that he’d given in to it, how natural a response it was. And how far away she suddenly seemed, how empty his arms. He’d never thought anything like that before.

  “I’m not hauling my butt over that console again,” she warned him, leaning back. “It was only sexy once.”

  “It was sexy?” He grinned, rather liking that she thought that. “I thought it was more my usual bull-in-a-china-shop kind of maneuver, but I wasn’t really thinking finesse at that moment.”

  “Me, either.” She smiled, then tucked her slippered feet beneath her legs and leaned over to buss him loudly on the cheek. “You make a sexy bull.”

  He snorted. “I’ve known you less than a month and already I’m representing half the animal kingdom. A fact they can’t be happy about, by the way.”

  She sat back, laughing, then nodded at the envelope still clutched in his hands. “What’s in the pouch? Is it about my case?”

  He’d forgotten all about it. Just as he’d forgotten for the entire time she was wedged in his lap that there was someone out there, somewhere, stalking her. Clouded judgment, loss of perspective. The exact things he railed against with his father. “You know, I think we should bring someone else in on this. I know some people—”

  She shook her head resolutely. “Just you.”

  He started to argue, then figured he’d just handle it on his own, make some calls. What she didn’t know, she couldn’t bitch at him about, right? “We’ll see” was all he said. He stretched reflexively and his knee locked. He swore a small streak before he could stop himself. “Sorry,” he ground out, rubbing his knee until he could bend it again. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

  “That’s okay. I might borrow a few of those words the next time I stub my toe on the foot of my bed, though, if you don’t mind.” She looked at his knee, reached out as if she wanted to soothe him somehow, then pulled her hand back again, as if she wasn’t sure of herself. “Will the pain ever go completely away?”

  It made his body tighten, just the thought of her touching him. Reaching for him without thought, the way he wanted to with her. He could have told her that no amount of soothing would make the pain go away, but that her touching him would at least make him forget about it for a while.

  He shook his head. “Not totally. It’s a lifetime memento from the NFL. It’s usually not this bad. The rain makes it worse.” That and sitting holed up in his SUV for hours on end.

  “So,” she asked quietly, “when you said earlier about not doing what you’d planned to be doing, football is the career you would have chosen?”

  “Yeah. I worked toward that one goal from the day I first picked up a ball.” He shrugged. “But it’s a crapshoot. We all know it from the day we’re signed. I was fortunate enough just to make it to the big time.” He held up a hand to stall the myriad questions he could all but see bubbling inside her. “Mind if we head inside? I need to go over what’s in the package. And we need to talk about what’s next.”

  “About the case? Or about us?”

  He merely looked at her. “Yes.”

  Tanzy opened the front door to her three-story row house and waved Riley through. She nodded toward the small front room that flanked the tiny foyer. The room had a huge bay window that made the room seem bright, even on a rainy day.

  Her décor ran toward comfort rather than style. A puffy black futon couch, an oversize red armchair and ottoman, perfect for curling up with her laptop when she needed a break from her office. A cluster of
pillows on both in no particular color or pattern scheme, throw rugs on the floor. A big chunky coffee table with a scatter of magazines, bills, and books all over it. At least they covered the rings left by her Coke cans. She kept meaning to buy some plants, but had somehow never gotten around to it. Fortunately Sloan had contributed to her empty walls. And one of Wolfgang’s sculptures graced the corner. She absently wondered now if he’d screwed the woman who’d modeled for it.

  “Just sit wherever is most comfortable. I’ll get some ice and Advil.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Stop being a tough guy. I’m not J.B. You don’t have to impress me with your manly fortitude.”

  He grinned. “Good thing.”

  She impulsively lifted up on tiptoes and bussed his cheek. “You’ll always be manly to me.” Feeling silly when he merely studied her, she gestured again to the front room. He was tall, but she’d never thought of him as being a particularly large man—J.B., now that was a large man—but he filled her foyer. Or maybe it was the tension screaming between them that filled the foyer. Whatever it was, she could barely breathe because of it.

  But he was in pain. And that was partly her fault for not inviting him in sooner. They had a case to discuss, business to take care of. The screaming tension would have to wait.

  She started to turn away, but he took her wrist, stopping her. When she looked back at him, he simply tugged her the rest of the way around, pulled her wrist up, and turned her hand so he could kiss her palm. “Thanks.”

  Now it was her turn to study him. That and feel her knees go a bit wonky at the look in his eyes. “For?”

  “The spontaneous kiss. Touching me. I like it. A lot. Please feel free to do it often.”

  She tried to respond but her throat had gone dry, so she merely nodded. Then smiled a bit wickedly and reached up to kiss him again, this time on the lips.

  He tucked her wrist behind her back and levered her up against his body as his head came down, his eyes half closing. He groaned with satisfaction as her lips skated across his. She loved the feel of his chest, hard, solid. Her free hand slid up his arm, all sinew and muscle, and tucked around his neck as she lifted herself more fully into his body. With a grunt he let his weight fall back against the foyer wall, yanking her up against him as he dropped her wrist and wrapped his arms around her.