Scoring With Santa: Book One in the Second Chance Series

by Theresa Roemer

  “None of your business, mom.” She sounded more snappish than she meant to. She needed to get rid of her mom before Rick got there and... ugh. She really didn’t want to explain this to her mother.

  She hustled into the bedroom and pulled a robe on. “Mom, why are you here?” she called out.

  “Well I saw your car in the driveway and I was afraid Sam was still home with his broken arm or something. I was going to tell you I would stay with him so you could go to work.”

  She emerged, tying the robe. “That’s sweet, mom, but Sam’s at school.”

  “I should hope so! What’s going on? You don’t have a date with Justin do you?”

  “Justin? Mom, we’re divorced.”

  “Well that doesn’t mean you can’t get back together.”

  Seriously? Her mom was worse than the kids.

  “Mom, you gotta go. You’re a total mood kill. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  Her mother wore a bewildered expression. “Well, okay, honey. Er... have fun!” She reached back through the door and waved as she left.

  Brandy rolled her eyes and started to giggle.

  * * *

  Rick knocked on Brandy’s door. He wasn’t sure why she’d shot down his plan to have her car fixed, but the prospect of a nooner had his cock aching already.

  She opened the door wearing... gulp. Holy shit. Brandy stepped back to let him in. She stood in three-inch heels and... damn. She ought to be working for Victoria’s Secret because he had never seen lingerie look so good on a woman. Her apple-sized breasts spilled out of a lacy black bra. Matching black panties and his favorite—thigh highs—completed the ensemble. Her long blond hair draped across one shoulder.

  He shut the door and whistled. “You might need to bring me smelling salts.”

  She laughed—a husky, sexy sound that went straight to his cock.

  “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Only for you.”

  “We need to have a little talk about your plans for my car.” She reached out and hooked a finger behind one of the buttons of his shirt, using it to lead him behind her as she strutted down the hall, her heels clacking on the hardwood floors. He would never think of hardwood floors the same again. Or high heels. Or thigh highs.

  What had she said? Plans for his car? He shook his head, trying to get some of the blood that had traveled two feet south back to his brain. “What’s the problem?”

  “The problem, Coach—” She flicked one of the buttons on his shirt open as they walked, so he moved to help her, unbuttoning from the bottom. “Is that we’re not even dating. You’re not my boyfriend or my husband. And I can handle these things on my own.”

  They reached the bedroom and his shirt now hung open. She spun around and her hands found his chest, fingernails scraping lightly through the light curls there. He couldn’t concentrate on her words, which didn’t seem to match her actions. Was she picking a fight? Or was this foreplay?

  Hell, he didn’t mind. Either way, he liked it.

  “Never liked hair on a man’s chest until I met you,” she murmured, her voice dripping with that honey that made her sound so damn kissable.

  Not wasting any time, he cupped her nape and pulled her in for a kiss, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and nipping.

  “So you’re mad? I was just trying to help.”

  “It was too much.” She pressed her pert breasts up against his chest, yanking his shirt down off his arms as they kissed.

  She was too much.

  He ran his hands up and down her body, savoring the incredible softness of her bare skin, the toned muscles underneath and the freakin’ beautiful wrappings she’d put herself in.

  She started to pull the straps down off her bra, but he stopped her.

  “No, don’t,” he said between kisses, backing her toward the bed. “I’m enjoying this outfit of yours way too much. Do not take anything off. Not even the heels.” He used a stern voice.

  Her nose scrunched up in an adorable way. “I thought I was leading here.”

  He flashed a wicked smile. “We just switched.” He picked her up by the waist and plopped her on the bed on her back. “You got a problem with that?”

  “Nope,” she answered quickly, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

  With a loose hold on her ankles, he lifted her legs straight up and spread them wide. “Show me that world-famous flexibility, baby. I want you to keep your legs just like this.”

  Her huge blue eyes watched him as he lowered to his knees and yanked the gusset of her panties to the side. Her pussy visibly clenched, the muscles lifting, quivering in anticipation of his mouth.

  “I haven’t stopped dreaming of this pussy since Saturday,” he growled before he licked into her.

  She shrieked and reached for his head, her pelvis lifting to meet him.

  He licked a long, slow line up her sex, parting her labia and retracting her clitoral hood with the tip of his tongue.

  She jerked beneath him, gasping, and her fingers wove into his hair.

  He circled her clit, tracing it, then sucked the stiffened nubbin into his mouth.

  “Oh God,” Brandy moaned. “That tongue of yours…”

  “Mm hm,” he hummed against her flesh, licking up and down again at a faster rate.

  “Whoa... .wow... wha-uh. Oh Jesus.”

  He screwed one finger inside her, continuing to flick her clit with his tongue.

  “Rick,” she panted, the breathy quality of her voice telling him how close she was to coming. “I want you inside me this time... please?”

  Holy baby Jesus. He couldn’t say no to that. With a pump of his finger inside her, he stood up.

  “Oh yes,” she said in anticipation. Her big baby doll eyes were glassy, pupils dilated with desire.

  He yanked a condom out of his pocket and dropped his pants and boxer briefs to the floor, stepping out of them at the same time he ripped open the foil wrapper.

  “Now, Rick,” she moaned, as if her fuse had been lit and he needed to get inside her before the bomb went off.

  Cock sheathed, he positioned himself between her legs, then changed his mind. “Roll over,” he commanded.

  She scrambled to comply, flipping her body so her high heels came to the floor as she bent over the side of the bed, leaning on her elbows

  Damn... those thigh highs! Black seams charged up the backs of her stockings. She looked So. Incredibly. Beautiful.

  She reached back and started to drag her panties down but he stopped her with a light slap on the ass.

  “I said the outfit stays. Now spread your legs.”

  She moaned and moved her high heels farther apart. “Hurry, Rick.”

  His palms rounded circles over her ass and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. How firm yet soft and yielding. He shoved her panties to the side and rubbed the head of his cock over her dewy-wet slit, then pushed in.

  Her pussy opened for him, hot and welcoming.

  Now it was his turn to groan. “You feel so good,” he growled, taking several long, slow strokes in and out.

  “Rick.” Her voice had risen in pitch, the desperation to climax upon her.

  He gripped her hips and gave it to her hard, bumping in and out.

  “Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, please, that’s it!”

  He drove harder, deeper, relishing the way her moist heat engulfed him.

  Her breasts bobbed and swung as he bumped her from behind, the graceful slope of her sinuous back responding to each thrust. Her fingers twisted into the bedcovers and she dropped her cheek to the bed, eyes wide, mouth open and panting.

  His thighs flexed, his own climax rushing nearer. He reached around the front of her and stuck his hand down her panties in the front. The moment he rubbed her clitoral hood over her pleasure center, she shattered. She screamed into the bedspread, hips bucking. Her muscles clamped down on his cock, squeezing.

  He shoved in deep and stayed, still rubbing her clit from
the front. Cum shot down his shaft. Her contracting muscles milked it from him, and his orgasm seemed to go on and on until he’d filled the condom. With one arm wrapped around her waist, he dropped his torso over hers, kissing her neck and shoulder.

  “You are incredible,” he murmured.

  “And you are a superstar.” She sounded contented, almost sleepy.

  He could use a little post-sex nap himself. He eased off her and went to the bathroom to clean up.

  When he returned, she still lay in the same position. He longed to pull her all the way up and lay down with her, but she’d been pretty clear about boundaries. Post-coital snuggling definitely wasn’t been part of the booty-call plan. And she hadn’t accepted his help with her car, which was also a signal.

  He ought to be glad she was sticking to her refusal to enter a relationship, but something deep inside his chest began to ache as he pulled on his clothes.

  This didn’t feel right. Not at all.

  She pushed herself up and glanced at the clock. “Ugh. I have to get back to the gym.”

  “I won’t hold you up.” He went in for a brief peck on the lips. “Thanks.”

  “Thank you.”

  He pointed a finger at her. “You take care of that power steering.”

  She rolled her eyes and tossed the thigh-high she’d just pulled off at him. “Get out, you.”

  He chuckled. “Leaving.”

  Well, that had been pretty clear. This was just sex. That shouldn’t irritate him as much as it did.

  * * *

  “So there I am in my full Fredericks of Hollywood getup and my mom walks in!”

  Brandy’s friends shouted and groaned at the story. It was their weekly playdate and this time they’d met at Meg’s house. Meg loved to try out new gourmet recipes and make fancy cocktails, so about half the time they met at her place because she was dying to try something new out on them.

  “Okay, so how did you go from “I’m not dating anyone” to having a nooner at your house with this man?” Angelina demanded.

  “We’re not dating.” She might have sounded a tad too defensive, like she was trying to convince herself. Even as she climbed up on that block to stand, it crumbled beneath her feet. Were they dating?

  He’d called her Wednesday night to apologize for overstepping with the car. She had apologized, too, because he sounded so sincere. She did appreciate the thought, but it was too much. Then they’d spent the next half hour chatting.

  Yes, chatting.

  Well, sex-only friends can chat, can’t they?

  She’d told him about the near scene-wrecker of her mom showing up. They’d laughed together about it. With another guy, she’d be embarrassed. With Justin, she probably would’ve felt ashamed. He wouldn’t want anything socially unacceptable to be revealed. But with Rick, she just felt comfortable to be who she was. It was surprising—shocking, really.

  “I don’t know, ladies.” She stirred her drink, staring at the frozen cantaloupe-mint daiquiri as if the answer to her relationship dilemma might be there. “This may be a huge mistake. He’s a player. He’s dangerous.”

  “But you’re just playing, right? So no harm done,” Angeline said. Her eyes narrowed. “Or are you afraid you’re falling for him?”

  Gulp.

  Was she?

  She thought about all the thoughtful things he’d done for her—the headset, entertaining Claire at the hospital, the pizza and movie. The power steering, even though it had pissed her off. It’s hard not to fall for a guy that perfect.

  She sighed. “I’m not falling for him yet, but I’m afraid I will soon. I thought he’d be full of himself or superficial. Hell, maybe I even thought he’d be a dumb jock, but he isn’t any of those things. He is really amazing. The way he’s taken it upon himself to help this kid rehab at my gym. Guess what he told me? This can’t leave this room, okay?”

  The ladies all nodded their eager agreement.

  “He said the reason he coaches high school ball instead of college is because his own high school coach made such a difference in his life. He wants to be that guy for other kids. Can you believe this man?”

  “Heart of gold,” Angelina agreed.

  “That’s so sweet,” Meg said.

  “I should write an article about him with that angle—what an amazing guy he is. Am I allowed to say he’s playing Santa for the Fostering Christmas event?” Angelina’s eyes lit up with the excitement of a good lead.

  “Yes, that’s been sent out in press releases already. We are hoping his name will help get publicity out there for more donations for the shelter. Just as long as you don’t mention anything about our personal relationship, okay?”

  “I won’t.” She tapped her lips, probably already writing the story in her mind.

  Juliet rolled her eyes.

  Meg slid a tray of hors d’oeuvres on the table.

  Brandy reached for a little cracker smeared with goat cheese and topped with a cucumber slice and popped it in her mouth. “Mm, these are heavenly. I want you to cater the opening parties for my new locations.”

  “Actually... I’ve been thinking about the event coordinator thing.”

  “What event coordinator thing?” Juliet looked interested.

  “Brandy said she might hire me to handle the parties and grand openings for the new stores.”

  “Wow... that’s a perfect fit,” Angelina admitted.

  “Well, I know,” Meg drawled. “Parties I definitely understand how to do. I mean, I have experience with all aspects of it, from the invitations to the food to the entertainment and decoration.” Her conviction had grown, ending with a lift of her chin as if daring one of them to say she didn’t.

  “Atta girl,” Brandy cried. “You’d be perfect at this. When can you start?”

  “How about today?”

  Angelina lifted her glass. “This calls for a toast! To new ventures.”

  “To new ventures.” They all lifted their glasses and clinked.

  * * *

  Rick showed up to Phenomenal Physiques already showered. He may be wearing his workout clothes, but he definitely wasn’t there to work out.

  Yeah, he only had one thing on his mind. Make that one phenomenally physiqued blonde.

  Brandy appeared to be waiting for him. She sat behind the desk, an unbuttoned linen blouse pulled on over her yoga top. She also looked fresh and clean. “Good evening Coach Morehouse,” she purred when he came in and leaned his forearms on her counter.

  “Good evening Ms. Love.” He took a quick, surveying glance of the main workout room. Just two people.

  “Are you here to work out?” she asked innocently.

  “Yes. But I was wondering if you offer anything like... I don’t know... a couples workout?”

  She flashed a wicked grin. “I’ve considered trying out a couples yoga class,” she drawled, her honeyed voice dripping with naughty innuendo. “It would involve quite a bit of... stretching. But there might be some high impact elements as well. One partner would stretch while the other…” she hit the heel of one hand against the opposite palm, “impacted.”

  “Mmm.” He held her blue eyes. “That sounds like exactly the kind of class I’m looking for. Is it going on tonight?”

  She made a show of looking over her shoulder at the white board with the schedule for the day. “It’s not on the schedule, but I’m willing to entertain a private. It might cost you a little extra, though.”

  “Oh yeah? What currencies do you accept?”

  She lowered her voice, even though no one was around to hear them. “Orgasms. Cunnilungus. Foot massage. Any of the above, really. I’m pretty open to negotiation when it comes to you. You are a V.I.P. here at Phenomenal Physiques.”

  “Am I? Well, I’m honored.”

  She waved a hand toward the display of supplements. “Normally I upsell personal training sessions with supplements, but from what I’ve observed, you don’t have a problem with stamina, do you?”

  He smile
d. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Ms. Love.”

  Two women walked past, waving goodbye to Brandy as they left.

  “I’ll just go put my bag down and check the status of the men’s locker room.”

  Her gaze flicked to the weight room. The two people who had been working out were now gone. “I’ll turn some lights off and do a walk-through to see how many are left. Meet me in the massage room. We’ll start by warming your muscles up with a little rub-down in there, how’s that sound?”

  He made an approving sound deep in his throat—somewhere between a growl and a purr. “Sounds good.” Like a security guard, he checked every room as he walked down the hall, flicking off lights. One guy was still in the men’s locker room, but he stuffed his gym shoes in his bag and left, giving Rick a curious glance as he passed by.

  Rick was used to looks, being semi-famous, at least in Houston, so he wasn’t sure if it was just that the guy recognized him, or if he wondered why he was showing up at closing time.

  He was surprised by the urge to assert his interest in Brandy to the gym customers and the world at large. Yep, I’m here for the blonde. Hands off her.

  But that was crazy, because A) They didn’t have a relationship and B) Even if they did, she wasn’t keen on her personal business becoming public. Oh yeah, and C) She still had kids. And dammit, he really didn’t know what to do about that show-stopping fact.

  * * *

  Brandy bade farewell to the last three customers and locked the front door. Alone with Rick at last. She’d been looking forward to this like a lifeline. Especially with the stress of Sam’s broken arm and dealing with Justin over football. Actually she hadn’t dealt with Justin, so that was hanging over her head, gnawing in her stomach and keeping her up late at night. Even as she composed nasty diatribes in her head, she knew that wouldn’t be the way to approach it. Justin would dig in for a fight, and he’d be more than willing to take her to court over it. She couldn’t afford a battle like that—not in money or time. No, she’d have to appeal to Justin’s better self, and to do that... well, she needed to relax and get her emotions and stress in check. To do that she needed smoking hot sex with a sexy football coach.