Game On

by Collette West

  "You'd better have something ready by the time I come back." He smiles against my lips before giving me a gentle kiss and bounding off the bed.

  I watch his naked back strut across the room before he bends down and riffles through his suitcase for something to wear. This mammoth-sized man is a sight to behold, like an ancient Viking come to life or a strapping Scottish highlander minus the kilt. He stretches his muscles, straightening his long legs when he finds what he's looking for, tossing over his shoulder the sweater I just bought for him knowing it'll bring out the brown flecks in his eyes. He gives me a wink before heading into the bathroom.

  I smile giddily up at the thatched roof above my head, relishing that Jilly and I somehow ended up here like we were destined to rollick in this enormous feather bed beneath these ancient eaves. Somewhere in my heart I know that, no matter where the two of us ended up, we would have arrived at this spot, like it was calling out to us from across the centuries.

  I scramble to my feet, hearing his electric razor start to whir. I don't have much time if he expects to see something when he comes out. I fire up my laptop and open a new document, my fingers flying across the keyboard.

  The white, fluffy pillows, his boxers hanging over the side of the bed, the Irish sunlight filling the room—yes, this is what heaven feels like.

  The innkeeper lovingly called this abode 'The Nest' because of its egg-shaped bed and the numerous children that were undoubtedly conceived in it. It's a place where couples go to shut out the world for a while and focus on each other, tuning out all possible distractions, returning to a simpler age when all a man and woman needed was a bottle of wine and a few lit candles to ignite that spark between them.

  And 'The Nest' certainly lived up to its billing. We explored every inch of its continent-sized bed, diving beneath the sheets and only coming up for air. I concur with the women before me who've experienced its joys. My man has never been so passionate as he was last night. The crackling fire threw our conjoined shadow against the wall as we lost ourselves in each other again and again.

  It's the kind of secret getaway where we can let go and fully express our love for one another, a hideaway retreat that makes us feel like we're the only two people in the world, the frost on the windowpane encouraging us to cling to each other for warmth, the exquisite softness of the mattress keeping us nestled together through the night and long into the morning.

  I wouldn't mind if we did conceive a child here.

  I sit back in the antique chair, holding my finger over the delete button. Is that going too far? Will it freak Jilly out? But with the time change and the jet lag and all of the traveling, I forgot to take my birth control pill yesterday. In fact, I haven't taken one in almost forty-eight hours. It's my fault. I got distracted, too caught up in the moment to remember my womanly responsibilities.

  Jilly very well could've gotten me pregnant last night. He stopped wearing condoms once I went on the pill, trusting me to hold up my end of the bargain. But I didn't this time—I slipped up. The room dubbed 'The Nest' lured me under its baby-making spell.

  I rest my hand against my forehead and listen to the water begin to squirt from the showerhead. It won't be long now until Jilly reads these words. But do I want him to? Will he be mad?

  I step away from the computer and bite my thumbnail, anxiously looking out the window at our ancestral town below. It's beginning to stir to life on this freezing-cold Saturday morning, smoke billowing from the stone chimneys all around us. I hug my arms to my chest, allowing my fingers to graze across my middle, wondering if there's a newly conceived child growing inside me.

  The water shuts off and Jilly opens the door a crack to let out some of the steam. I sit down on the bed, crossing and recrossing my legs, wondering how he's going to take the news. Unable to sit still, I stride over to the fireplace and rake the coals, throwing another log on the fire, careful not to get burned by the flying cinders.

  I turn around and freeze when I see him reading what I just wrote, leaning over the table, intently staring at the screen. I didn't hear him come in, the noise of the fire having covered his footsteps. His hair is still wet from the shower, but he's donned the sweater and jeans as well as the slippers.

  When he starts to type, I hold my breath, anxious to know what he's writing. After a few keystrokes, which he punches in mostly with his pinkie finger, he pushes away from the computer, eyeing me with an indecipherable look bordering on excitement mixed with dread.

  "Come read…" he starts, but he stops for a second, like he's overwhelmed. He takes a deep breath before continuing. "Come read what I wrote."

  I cross the room, padding across the hand-embroidered rug. I shoot him an anxious glance and then another before I work up the courage to read the four words staring up at me from the screen.

  "Will you marry me?"

  My hand flies to my mouth in utter shock as his strong arms encircle my waist, the width of his palm resting against my stomach where, seconds ago, I pondered what might lie within.

  "You're telling me we might've made a Jilly junior?" he whispers softly, holding me like I'm the most precious thing in the world to him.

  "Maybe…if it's a boy," I reply, leaning into him.

  "When it comes to family, you're it for me," he says, making me realize how much he wants this to be true, to have something he never had growing up—a family of his very own. "So…what do you say? Shall we make this official then?" His lips caress the side of my face, and I can feel how much he loves me.

  "I think we should." I turn my head, meeting his lips with mine.

  "Good," he groans, kissing me before uttering, "I think it's time for another name change for you. Forget R.D. Bukater. Hailey Gillette—now I really like the sound of that."

  "Me, too," I whisper, kissing him back with everything I have in me. "Me, too."

  BONUS Chapter One

  Hailey

  There's not a cloud in the Florida sky, and Jilly is looking fantastic on the mound.

  It's almost April, and spring training is coming to an end, but Jilly won't be able to join the team when the guys head north for Opening Day. He still has a few more months of rehab to go, but he's making spectacular progress. No one wants to rush him back even though, so far, he's pitching better than ever. The Kings are taking a cautious approach, easing him back into things, giving him the full twelve months his surgeon recommended to recuperate.

  It's exciting to see him throw all of his pitches for strikes. His breaking ball is dropping when it crosses the strike zone. His cutter is jamming hitters inside. His fastball is clocking in at ninety-eight. But he hasn't attempted the slider yet and his stamina is questionable if he gets in trouble and has a big inning, which is probably why the Kings aren't taking him up now. Tony knows that pitching in a game situation is a lot different than these exhibition inter-squad matchups where he's facing a combination lineup of major and minor league players.

  After today's game, they're icing down his arm, taking every precaution until he's back to normal. I don't mind waiting for him to shower and change and get whatever therapy he needs from Liam before he leaves for the day. I'm all about him making a full recovery.

  "Wow. If it isn't R.D. Bukater in the flesh."

  I turn around, my heart plummeting when I see Drake Schultz saunter up behind me. "I was wondering when you were finally gonna man up and come talk to me," I respond, not letting him know that I've been dreading this conversation for weeks.

  "You're not so quiet after all, are you?" he sasses me, joining me at the rail overlooking the Kings' spring training facility.

  "Appearances can be deceiving." I give him a quick once-over, gauging his reaction.

  "You can say that again." He smirks, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

  "So when are we getting started?" I hold my breath.

  "On what?" he inquires, slyly.

  "Your book." I shoot him a critical glance, letting him know that playing dumb isn't
going to work with me. "You're gonna have to tell me your life story eventually if you want me to be the one who tells it."

  "Who said anything about spilling my guts to you?" he bristles, getting agitated.

  "You did," I remind him. "Or don't you remember why you're not taking me to court?"

  "Your idiot boyfriend got it all wrong. That's not what I told Jilly," Drake huffs. "I said I needed you to make me more attractive to the ladies. I never said anything about dredging up shit from my past." He tightens his mouth, scowling at me.

  "Why? Got something to hide?" I goad him.

  "Everyone's got something to hide," he responds flatly.

  "You're quite an elusive figure for nabbing the largest contact in baseball history. I checked your Wikipedia page." I watch his eyes widen slightly. "It's all career stats, and not much else. Your personal line begins and ends with your ex-wife and two kids. No parents. No siblings. Not even the name of your high school. What gives?"

  "I moved around a lot," Drake answers vaguely, staring off into the distance at the empty seats.

  I turn to face him, only to get a view of his profile, his eyes staring straight ahead. "Care to elaborate?"

  "I had what you'd call an unconventional upbringing," he says, shifting his head to the side. "I led a pretty nomadic lifestyle, if you catch my drift."

  "Why? How many states did you live in?" I ask, trying to pin down some facts.

  "After a while, I stopped counting," he drawls listlessly.

  "Was it because of your dad's job or something?" I question him further, trying to come up with a possible explanation.

  "I never knew my dad," he remarks, bending his head.

  "And your mom?" I gaze at him like I'm seeing him for the first time. This guy who threatened to make my life a living hell for slandering his reputation is more of a mystery than I thought.

  "My mom?" he huffs, grimacing like it pains him to even mention her. "Yeah, she's a piece of work."

  When Jilly warned me that Drake wanted me to write a book about him, he mentioned one thing that really stood out, so if I'm going to mention it, now's the time. "What's with you and motorcycles?" I ask in a rush. "I've never seen you ride one. I couldn't even find a picture of you riding one."

  Drake turns to me, an unreadable smile on his face. "I read your impression of me, but I'm not the bad guy everyone thinks I am. Or should I say…wants me to be?"

  "Too bad your actions prove otherwise." I hold my ground.

  No way am I backing down. He's not going to delude me into thinking he's 'Mr. Nice Guy' when he's anything but. Forget what he threatened to do to me. He attacked Jilly when he was hurt and I'll never forgive him for that. He could have injured him permanently.

  "Because I think people like to look at someone they think is beyond redemption and use them as an excuse for their bad behavior. They like to tell themselves, 'Well, at least I'm not as bad as Drake Schultz,'" he laughs bitterly. "It's human nature to build yourself up by tearing down someone else. But you don't know me. Nobody knows me."

  "Chase does," I correct him, knowing how tight they were when they were rising through the ranks as the two hottest prospects in baseball.

  "Chase doesn't know shit," Drake mumbles, stretching his arms against the rail.

  "Well, what about your ex-wife?" I counter.

  "Let's just say that, what she found out about me, she didn't like," Drake says, leaning back to observe me. "I don't think you would either. You don't seem like that type of girl."

  "You bet your ass she's not."

  I feel Jilly's hand come to rest on my back, sending Drake the clear message that he's out of line and his conversation with me ends now.

  I'd never go against Jilly, not when it comes to Drake, but I'm kind of disappointed. I felt like I was really getting somewhere with him. Like, for some reason, he was letting me in, allowing me to see a side of him no one's ever seen before. And I have to admit that I'm intrigued to learn more.

  "Hey, man. I waited until you fucked her first, didn't I?" Drake snarls, instantly ruining any goodwill he might have established with me.

  Jilly steps in front of me, his shirt clinging to his back. I flush, knowing it's still hard for him to reach it with a towel because of his arm, and it's a job I've gladly been doing, drying him off whenever we shower together.

  "You talk like that to her again and I'll be sure to keep my promise to you as well," Jilly says menacingly, making the hair on the back of my arms stand on end.

  "No need, big guy. Just glad you finally got some," Drake chuckles, purposely bumping into Jilly's shoulder when he strides by.

  I expect Drake to say something nasty to me too, some snide remark or incendiary comment, but he doesn't. In fact, he acts like I'm not even there, like I'm suddenly invisible, and that burns me up even more.

  "I guess we'll pick up where we left off then?" I call out to him, letting a surge of anger creep into my voice.

  "Nah, we're done," Drake replies like he's bored. "After our little chat, I don't think you're up to the task."

  Jilly takes a step toward Drake, but I hold him back, shaking my head. Drake gave us a free pass by not having his lawyer go after me. The least we can do is humor him a little—even though he's even more of a jerk than he appears in my books, albeit a more complicated jerk.

  "Hailey, I don't want you working with that scumbag," Jilly pleads, staring deep into my eyes.

  "You heard the man. It's not gonna happen." I raise my hands in surrender. "Maybe it's for the best. He's way too dodgy to get a handle on anyway."

  "Really? I think he's easy enough to figure out," Jilly grumbles. "Once a dick, always a dick."

  "True, but I think he's scared," I respond, watching Drake get into his Mercedes in the players' parking lot, ignoring the fans along the chain link fence clamoring for his autograph.

  "I don't think so," Jilly sighs. "Fucked up is more like it."

  "Yeah, that too," I say dishearteningly.

  "He's not worth it, Hailey." Jilly strokes my hair, not wanting to see me upset. "Don't waste your time worrying about a selfish prick like that."

  "I won't," I respond, snuggling into him, loving how he smells right after a shower.

  "You know what I can't stop thinking about?" he whispers absently against my ear.

  "What?" I reply, closing my eyes, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms.

  "That bed we shared in the B&B," he laughs.

  "Jilly!" I chuckle against his shirt.

  "I know I need a large bed, but that one took up half the room," he moans softly against the top of my head.

  "I don't know. I kinda miss that bed," I say, raising my head with a gleam in my eye.

  "Yeah. Now that you mention it…" He bends down and gives me the sweetest kiss imaginable. "Maybe I'll have to look into getting one of our own."

  "Now that'd be fun." I smile up at him.

  "You feel like getting outta here and rolling around in the bed we do have?" he asks, his mouth turning up.

  "If the Kings want you to increase your stamina, we'd better get on it," I tease him, running my hands up and down his chest.

  "Then what are we waiting for?" he cries, swinging me over his shoulder and rushing toward the parking lot.

  "Bruce! There are people around!" I scold him, shrieking in his arms.

  "Good! Let'em see where R.D. Bukater gets her inspiration from," he jokes.

  And this time, I don't bother arguing with him. I just bury my face in the crook of his neck…because thanks to him, the New York Warriors have never been hotter.

  BONUS Chapter Two

  Jilly

  I feel the sweat roll off me as I lie back on the pillow, Hailey on top of me. That was fucking incredible. I like when she takes charge like that, not afraid to show me who's boss.

  "You can untie me now," I whisper against the damp ringlets next to her ear.

  "Do I have to?" she teases, her head on my shoulder.

  "W
e've been going at it for hours," I chuckle when her hair tickles my chest. "And you are pregnant with our child."

  "So?" she responds mischievously. "It's all about whipping you back into shape."

  "But cutting off the circulation to my pitching arm probably isn't the best way to go about it." I struggle against her makeshift restraints to drive the point home.

  "Oh my God, Bruce! I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell me sooner?" She scoots up on her knees to reach the headboard.

  "'Cause I was enjoying what you were doing to me too much to stop," I answer honestly, loving the view of her naked body above my head, especially the tiny pouch already visible in her usually taut stomach.

  "There. Does that feel better?" she asks, massaging my wrists.

  "Any time you touch me, it feels good," I murmur.

  "Do you know I've wanted to do that to you since that night at the library?" she reveals out of the blue. "I've been daydreaming about what I could do with that tie of yours for quite some time now. I'm glad we finally got around to using it."

  I swallow hard when she places it around her neck—like she did that night—and it all comes rushing back, just how much I wanted her. I watch her pull it up and down between her breasts, and I feel myself start to get hard.

  "I need to have you again," I groan, pressing my back into the bed, becoming more and more aroused with every move she makes.

  "So soon?" Her eyes sparkle as she unconsciously licks her lips. "Wow. That has to be a new record for us."

  "Hailey…please…" I shift uncomfortably, gripping the blanket with both hands and rocking the bed beneath us.

  She giggles, securing my tie over my eyes like a blindfold before settling herself over my hips. I exhale deeply, rising up to meet her, ready to play this new game of hers when…

  The doorbell rings.

  "Fuck!" I growl, feeling Hailey freeze in midair.

  My hands automatically reach for her waist, holding her body in place, determined to do this.

  "Bruce! We have to answer the door. It could be important." Hailey splays her hands on my chest, holding herself above me, refusing to give in to me.