Banshee Seduction (Montgomery's Sin Book 1)

by Diane Saxon

  He shook his head and covered his mouth with his hand while the kids fumbled around behind her.

  Her elegant eyebrows quirked upward in a question, and her sexy mouth pouted. Her irritation tickled him, and his smothered chuckle turned into a full belly laugh with an underlying dragon murmur.

  The sudden stillness of the three kids should have warned him, but it was only when the tallest one’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened in surprise that Matt’s laughter stuck in his throat. He wondered whether he should take the miniscule opportunity he had as the kid placed Ginny’s items carefully on the shelf beside him. Matt narrowed his eyes while he considered how to save himself.

  “It’s The Dane!”

  Too late. The reverence in the kid’s voice sent a shockwave of horror through Matt, and his momentary hesitation cost him his peace of mind as the tall kid threw himself at him, plastering his lanky, bony body against Matt’s chest. The rancid stench of raging teenage hormones and cheap cologne almost knocked him over, the power of it more effective than the kid’s skinny body. The other two boys rapidly followed suit by launching themselves after the first. Dear Christ, he never got used to the way fans behaved. Most tried to pretend they hadn’t seen you. Many insisted on getting a selfie or an autograph. And then there were the ones who resorted to fangirl hysteria. It was a danger zone out there, and there was nothing he could do to protect himself. Except maybe peel the boy off and dump him on his ass on top of his two friends.

  He found he couldn’t do it, but he managed to take the kid by his narrow shoulders and hold him at arm’s length. The boy squinted up at him through the thick lenses of cheap glasses and blinked with adoration, not dissimilar to how he’d gaped at the buxom banshee, now totally forgotten by all except Matt.

  Matt shuddered, but as his gaze met Ginny’s, the fear evaporated. Her wide, happy grin lifted his spirits, and he found himself signing his autograph before taking his girl by the elbow to escort her to the checkouts. The youngsters brought up the rear, arms once again packed with Ginny’s products. Cheery chatter filled his ears as they tried to impress him with their football knowledge. Matt didn’t care. His heart sang as he realized what a lovely soul she had. A soul to soothe his beast.

  Happy to put the brown paper bags from the store into his arms, she raised her hand to stroke the hair back from his forehead. Anxious to get her alone, he followed her onto the street.

  “I wasn’t expecting you. How long are you back for?”

  “Ginny, stop…”

  There was no time left to warn her of the danger as she whipped around and walked straight into a streetlight. The resounding metallic twang reverberated in the quiet thoroughfare, and he cringed as he waited for her reaction. Without turning, she raised her left hand and gave a small wiggle of her fingers. Poof—she was gone in a streak of hot flame. He supposed it saved on taxi fares.

  He hitched the three paper bags into a more comfortable position and glanced across the street, thankful she hadn’t been carrying one of them. Otherwise their food would have been prematurely barbequed.

  From across the street, he spotted the horrible little man from the library. Dressed all in black, the guy shuffled along. His obsequious demeanor was easily recognizable. Matt’d seen him a bit too often for comfort recently. With every intention of confronting him, Matt stepped into the road.

  The loud blare of a car horn had him jerking back onto the sidewalk. The greasy little guy’s head shot up, and his frantic eyes met Matt’s before he darted through a side alley like the slimy rat he was. Matt dashed after him. He gripped the bags in his arms while he hurried to the mouth of the alleyway. And came to an abrupt halt as Daniel emerged, brushing his hands together as though wiping off dirt.

  “Hey.”

  Daniel shot a look at him; his golden eyes glowed eerily in the slash of sunlight that lit his face. He hesitated before he dipped his head in acknowledgment and replied, “Hi, I hoped I might catch you.”

  As he stepped forward, a large white feather flicked up from the pavement to float in a lazy spiral until an updraft caught it. It whooshed the feather up high, sending it rushing on the air down through the darkened alleyway and out of sight.

  Narrowing his eyes, Matt opened his mouth to speak, but Daniel took his elbow and led him back onto the main thoroughfare. “I wanted to talk with you about the final game of the season.” Reaching out, Daniel automatically relieved him of one of his packages.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  Daniel smiled and nodded in the direction of the library. “I didn’t. I was on my way over to see if you were at Ginny’s.”

  His chest warmed at the mere mention of her name. “I’m just trying to catch up with her. She bumped into a streetlamp and shot herself up in flames.”

  Daniel gave him a pained look before returning to the reason he was there.

  “Viego called a meeting. Apparently, the Chameleons have attracted a lot of attention this year, and with the end of the season in sight, the press are going wild. They want in on the private lives of the team.”

  Matt nodded his understanding. It had always been that way.

  “They want your agreement to print some of the details of your private life.”

  He could feel himself shaking his head before the thought of denying it even formed in his brain. “Nope.”

  “Matt, you know darned well if you don’t give them the information they want, they’re going to find it or print something so out of this world you’ll have to defend your privacy. This way, we let them in, give them some information, and they go away happy because they can entertain the public.”

  They reached the side door to Ginny’s apartment, and both of them came to a halt.

  Matt could see the sense of it, always had played to the press to keep his private life a secret, but he had far more at stake now. He knew it was an impossibility, but he needed his privacy for a little longer. “I don’t want them to know about Ginny. Not yet.”

  Daniel nodded his understanding. “We’ll give them an insight into your private life. No mention of Ginny.”

  They both peered up the side of the building once more. Reluctant to invite Daniel in but not wanting to appear rude, Matt nodded at the door. “You want to come in?”

  Daniel poked his bottom lip out, studied the library, and then shook his head as he handed over the paper sack. “Nope. You need to be back on the practice field at eight sharp tomorrow morning. Make the most of your time with your girl.”

  “I will.”

  Warm anticipation spread through him as he adjusted the bags in his arms, and Daniel pushed open the door to allow him access up the stairwell. With one brief grin at his agent, he watched the door close behind him before he sprinted up the stairs. Barely out of breath as he reached the top floor, he leaned against the apartment buzzer with his elbow.

  His banshee girl in all her glory swung open the door, her eyes alight with mischief. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was naked under her pretty floral robe.

  “What took you so long, buster?”

  The honeyed tones of her voice whispered sweet echoes of invitation, tempting him to step into the apartment and kick the door firmly shut behind him.

  Chapter Eleven

  The man was invincible. He’d scored another touchdown. Even with her decidedly poor knowledge of football, Ginny knew a touchdown was magic, especially from a fullback.

  Fascinated, she couldn’t tear herself away from the TV as his team manager escorted him to sit in front of the press between himself and Daniel. Three minutes, Matt had told her. Three minutes of hell, when team members were subjected to the evil machinations, assumptions, and fantasy scenarios of the press. He’d said not to take notice of anything she heard, if she deigned to watch it at all, but she hadn’t been able to resist.

  Hair plastered to his head and darkened with sweat, Matt swiped the back of his hand across his cheek and then stared straight at the camera lens as though he k
new she was watching. His straight top lip rolled in and made her stomach clench as she remembered just what sexy magic he could create with his wonderful mouth.

  Heat washed over her as she realized how much she loved him. Not simply the first flush of lust, but a soul-searing, heart-wrenching, stomach-clenching love to last all eternity.

  Every move he made, every nuance, each flick of his long black eyelashes gave her a rich melting feeling like velvety hot chocolate swimming its way through her insides. His whiskey voice poured over her. She never understood a word he said about the game, every move beyond her, but she couldn’t persuade herself to take her gaze from his sexy mouth.

  The one thing she understood was he’d scored another touchdown, and he was the man.

  As reporters shot questions at him, he took his time. Calm and casual, she understood where he gained his reputation. There. Right there was a man in control. Another question shot from the crowd around him. “Dane. You must be very proud of your accomplishment today. In the last game of the season you scored another touchdown.”

  Ginny’s heart fluttered. Matt was coming home. He might not realize it yet, but her home was his home. She just needed to convince him. He might not need much convincing. After all, the enormous bed he’d had delivered to her apartment earlier in the day spoke volumes about where he expected to spend more time.

  A small gurgle of laughter got the better of her as she curled up on her armchair, a glass of white wine in her hand. She took a sip and allowed the sweet nectar to trickle down her throat, never taking her eyes off the screen as the reporters moved on with their questions. Matt wriggled in his seat. His hands, loosely linked, rested on the table in front of him; his enormous shoulders filled the screen.

  The camera panned across the room and zoomed in to a little man with greasy, slicked dark hair and thick-rimmed black glasses, wearing a long black mac. He gave a myopic blink as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd, his hand in the air. “Dane. It looks like you’re in the running for the Offensive Player of the Year Award. How does that make you feel?”

  Ginny sat up straight, a curl of recognition tightening her stomach at his familiar whiney, nasal voice. It grated on her nerves enough to make her pay closer attention. She squinted at the screen and felt Matt’s own discomfort as the camera moved back to show him shuffling in his seat. His fingers tightened. “Great. Thanks.”

  Surprise at his abruptness cast a hush over the room, and the man stepped forward into the camera shot.

  Matt’s previous indulgent smile slid from his face, and his eyes turned cool. Ginny’s heart gave an uncomfortable knock, making her ribs ache. She had no idea why Matt appeared so ill at ease, but it made her twitchy too. She raised shaky fingers to tap against her lips as she waited for the man’s next question.

  “Dane.”

  Matt frowned, his dark stare making it obvious he disliked the reporter.

  His team manager gave him a sly nudge and a quick sideways frown, caught by every camera in the room and transmitted immediately to the world.

  “Dane.” The slimy man’s insistence at constantly using Matt’s nickname made her clench her jaw and lean forward, placing her half-empty glass on the table in front of her. What did he want? It was as though he was trying to garner as much attention as possible before he hit Matt with something terrible. The unease in her stomach clenched and smoldered.

  “Earlier, we had the opportunity to visit your pad, compliments of your team manager, Mr. Viego.” Matt’s slow turn in his manager’s direction was full of self-restraint, but the raised blond eyebrow would have made Ginny tremble if she’d been on the receiving end of it.

  She reached for the remote control; apprehension built to make her fidget. She turned the sound up several notches and leaned forward, elbows on knees. No one else in the interview room spoke, the air of anticipation thick while they waited for Matt to reply.

  He merely gave a slow nod, his dark stare centered on the greasy guy.

  Ginny watched Matt’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, another outward sign he was unhappy with the situation. His ice-green eyes were flat and deadly.

  “Thank you for allowing us the opportunity—Dane.”

  Every time the man said his name, his voice twanged.

  By the flick of his eyebrow, it was obvious Matt had very little to do with the impromptu visit to his pad.

  “We got some great shots of the interior of your house.” The reporter nodded, confidence growing as he took another step closer. “Your pool…”

  An image of a crystal turquoise pool surrounded by vast quantities of emerald foliage flashed up on screen and took Ginny completely by surprise. She shot up straight in her seat. She never knew he had a pool; he’d never mentioned one. Come to think of it, he hadn’t mentioned much about his private life, his home, his…anything. They’d spent hours on the phone while he was away. He never so much as mentioned his place. She blinked rapidly.

  “Your gym.”

  He had a gym? Why wouldn’t he have a gym? After all, he needed to keep at the peak of fitness, and there was no doubt the man was at his peak. He was a sportsman. Famous. Famous. Famous. And rich.

  She wriggled around on her seat, not quite knowing what to do with herself. It had never occurred to her. She’d assumed he did nothing other than play football and be with her. Yet here it was in front of her. A whole separate life. One she hadn’t been privy to. She’d been prepared to declare undying love to him, fully expecting him to feel the same way.

  It wasn’t his fault. It was her own for getting ahead of herself—and evidently him.

  “Poor Ginny.”

  “Poor naïve Ginny.”

  “Poor innocent Ginny.”

  Mild queasiness churned her stomach. She hushed the voices and concentrated on the image of his bedroom as it flashed onto the screen. Deep, opulent purples and blues interspersed with golden tones daubed his room and splashed across his bed in lush, rich fabrics. A room in complete contrast to the simplicity of hers. Despite the arrival of the new bed, her room was innocently feminine and…naïve.

  Ginny picked up her wine and took a long slug of it. It hit the back of her throat, almost choking her. Tears filled her eyes, and she rapidly placed it back on the table. She took in deep gulps of air and snorted while she wiped away the tears, all the time watching the television.

  His place looked as though it had been lovingly decorated with a very sophisticated, feminine hand.

  What a fool she was. She cast a critical glance around her pitifully small room, shame twisting in her stomach to make it clench in embarrassment.

  Sympathetic sobs whispered through her mind again.

  How could she expect to be a part of his life? It wasn’t his fault. He’d never intimated that they were exclusive. She’d just assumed.

  She turned back to the screen in time to see a picture of his living room. Nothing to compare to hers. Vast buttermilk leather sofas lined three sides of the resplendent room, larger than her entire apartment. Jade and royal blue cushions and throws were strategically placed with feminine precision.

  Ginny’s stomach revolted. Her eyes scanned the sumptuous rug in wild rich tones that adorned the massive space in the middle of the room. The voices in her head escalated. The camera panned around to show the wall opposite where an enormous television screen hung as large as a cinema.

  She covered her face with her hands and peeped through her fingers at her own small TV screen. Foolish. She’d been so damned foolish. The sympathy of a hundred voices surged, increasing her anxiety.

  The camera panned back to Matt. His face looked as stiff as hers felt. Tears pricked behind her eyelids as the journalist’s nasal whine continued.

  “So, Dane. We were kindly given permission to look at your trophy room. You have some real interesting stuff in there.”

  The cool flick of Matt’s eyebrow gave little away before the scene changed to a smaller wood-lined room. It was filled with dee
p cabinets containing bright, shiny silver, glass, and gold trophies that gleamed and shimmered in the glare of the bright camera lights. Shards of white light bounced off every reflective surface, creating miniature rainbows.

  The sly voice of the journalist continued, inviting Matt to discuss some of the historical trophies the cabinets contained from older, retired players, while the eye of the camera hovered over them. Matt’s stiff, cool voice was matter-of-fact as he described each one and how he had come to obtain them.

  How silly she was. He was a player. She’d never taken any interest in fame and fortune before. Why would she? She’d come to the Earth realm for anonymity, whereas he courted attention.

  The reporter ran through some of Matt’s latest acquisitions, his own trophies. The nasal tones dragged on as the man highlighted each one.

  “Now.” His falsetto chuckle grated through the microphone. “This is an interesting one.” The lens zoomed in to frame a tiny shoe. Ginny’s breath lodged in her throat, and the voices quietened. Crystal fire glittered to cast a myriad of rainbow colors in dazzling sparkles across the walls as light refracted from the shoe she’d left in his hand the night she’d first met him. She assumed she’d incinerated it. But there it was, in his trophy cabinet. On display for the world to see.

  The shot zoomed back to Matt’s face, still but for the hard flint in his jade eyes. His long black lashes swooped down as he took a slow blink. His straight lips tightened into a white line.

  “Dane. What does this beautiful, elegant shoe mean to you?” The reporter’s barely concealed slimy glee ran over her nerves as she waited.

  “Nothing.”

  Her heart sank.

  “Nothing?”

  Matt placed both hands palm down on the table and leaned back. “No. Nothing.”

  The reporter’s sly gurgle of triumph vibrated from the TV. “Are you trying to tell us this fine trophy—evidence of your conquest over this beautiful young woman—means nothing?”