by Ann DeFee
“Ms. Hurst, Ms. Hurst.” CiCi’s walkie-talkie squawked to life. “Your parents called and said they’ll be here in thirty minutes.”
She punched the on button and answered. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Darn it! She slipped off Jake’s lap. “Rain check?”
“You’d better believe it.”
EXACTLY A HALF AN HOUR LATER, Texas Bob pulled into Camp Touchdown.
“Son, have you seen this?” The man was waving a copy of the Texas Tattler. Why was he babbling on about some newspaper?
“CiCi.” Marianne Hurst quickly joined her husband near the lodge and hugged her daughter. The woman might be a size two, but she was a larger-than-life presence. A trickle of tears accompanied her hug.
What was going on?
“You should buy waterproof.” CiCi touched her mom’s cheek.
“What?” Marianne seemed baffled but then she figured it out. “My mascara is running?” “Yep.”
“Winston, get over here and console our daughter. I have to go inside.” She made a beeline for the ladies’ room.
“What’s happening?” Jake asked.
CiCi shrugged. “Beats me.”
“Baby girl.” Texas Bob enfolding his daughter in a smothering embrace.
“Daddy, I’m fine.” CiCi’s protest was muffled by Texas Bob’s girth.
“Sir, Mr. Hurst,” Jake said. “I think you’re suffocating her.” If CiCi had been any shorter, she probably would have passed out from lack of oxygen.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Mama and I almost freaked when Mac showed us this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This spread in the Texas Tattler.” He opened the paper to a picture of CiCi and Jake in a telling embrace.
“It starts out with a story about the river rescue and quickly goes to hell. I might just sue them.”
“Let me see that.” CiCi snatched the paper out of her dad’s hand and read the headline: Is the Heiress Trying to Snare the Football Hero?
The more she read the more she wanted to smack someone, preferably the idiot who wrote this tripe. According to this…this yellow journalism, she was a spoiled deb without a brain who was out to seduce the poor dumb jock, who also happened to be some kind of superhero.
“Bull hockey!” CiCi crumpled up the paper and was about to throw in the round file when Jake grabbed it.
“If I get my hands on that idiot with the camera I’m going to rip his head off,” she said.
JAKE HADN’T SEEN this particular side of her personality. It was cute, in a tread carefully kind of way. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. And how had they found out about the night in San Antonio?
He put his arm around CiCi’s shoulders. It was as much to console her as to stake his claim. He tilted her chin up for a kiss. If the boss man didn’t like it, that was too bad. Jake’s first hint of doubt came when he realized she was as stiff as a marble statue.
“So that’s the way it is.” Texas Bob whipped his Stetson off his head and slapped it on his leg.
“Yes, sir, it is,” Jake said. He didn’t much care what Texas Bob thought. Being a free agent wouldn’t be all that terrible. And if he was relegated to catching passes in the Arctic, so be it.
CiCi didn’t say a word, and her deer-in-the-headlights look didn’t do much to bolster Jake’s confidence. What if he’d risked his career and she didn’t give a flying fig about him?
He didn’t have a chance to ponder the question before Marianne Hurst returned.
“Mama,” Texas Bob said, “it seems our little girl and Mr. Culpepper are an item.”
“Oh. Why don’t we go inside and discuss what we should do next.” Marianne addressed her husband, but Jake knew Texas Bob wasn’t her primary audience.
“Come along, Mr. Culpepper, this involves you.”
Chapter Thirty
Marianne Hurst’s expression didn’t bode well for the upcoming conversation, but Jake took it like a man and followed the family to CiCi’s room. It would help if CiCi would give him a sign—a nod or a wink, something to confirm they were a team.
CiCi plopped on the couch with her parents bracketing her, leaving Jake the rocking chair.
“So how did the paparazzi get these pictures?” Texas Bob put his hands on his knees.
“It had to have been the guy we ran off. He obviously came back.” CiCi shook her head. Jake was glad the pictures were as innocent as they were. It could have been so much worse.
“Don’t worry, we’ll weather the storm,” Marianne said with a decided nod. “You’re consenting adults and what you decide to do is your business.”
Jake would bet his bottom dollar there wasn’t a person in the Hursts’ social circle stupid enough to mention the article.
She turned to Jake. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to get back to Houston, won’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He hesitated for a moment, but decided to clarify the situation. “Your daughter and I have a very special relationship and I intend to keep seeing her when we get home.” He waited for CiCi to back him up, but she didn’t say a word. Okay, she’d been under a lot of stress. For now, he’d give her a pass.
“I presume CiCi told you about her marriage.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He was not going to let a petite mom intimidate him. “I’m not Tankersley and I do not plan to hurt your daughter. You have my word on it.”
Marianne was about to say something when CiCi interrupted. “Hey, I’m right here. Stop talking about me like I’m invisible.”
“Oh, honey. You’re certainly not invisible.” Marianne raised her hand in contrition. “I’ll be quiet.”
CICI COULDN’T BELIEVE she was behaving like such a brat. First she’d pitched a hissy fit, and then she’d totally clammed up. When Jake told her folks they were an item, she hadn’t said a word. And when Jake announced he wanted to date her when they got back to Houston, she still couldn’t speak. Obviously most of her brain cells had gone MIA.
A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER the counselors were helping the kids pack and the buses were scheduled for an early morning pickup. Although the teens were griping, the college kids were all smiles. It had been a very long summer and they were ready to get back to their normal lives.
After she finished packing, CiCi and Sugar Plum wandered down to the park bench that was her and Jake’s special place. She was being sappy, but sometimes a girl had a right to get mushy. As she expected, Jake was there.
“I thought you might come,” he said, patting the bench.
She sat next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. “This is the first place you kissed me.”
“I remember.” He was wearing that cocky grin again. “I plan to do it again.” And he did.
Kissing Jake was the most natural thing in the world. At times it was so hot CiCi was afraid her head would explode. Occasionally it was soft, sweet and more comforting than sensual. This kiss, however, was far removed from anything before.
It was cerebral consummation.
It was bliss. It was…whew!
Jake was the first to pull away. He rested his forehead on hers. “I want to take you out on a real date when we get home.”
That was exactly what she wanted to hear. CiCi’s greatest fear—and one she hadn’t expressed, even to herself—was that he’d relegate what they had to summer fling. No matter how enamored he thought he was now, with all the names in his Rolodex, there was always the chance he’d go back to his old life and she’d never hear from him again.
“You mean, like go out to dinner, museums and the opera?”
Jake laughed. “Dinner’s good, but not the opera. I’m afraid that’s a no-go.”
CiCi threw her arms around his neck. “I don’t like it, either.”
“Was that a pop quiz?”
“Yep.”
“And I passed?” He was acting like a kid expecting a blue ribbon.
“With flying colors.”
Sugar Plum put her head in Jake’s lap. She wanted so
me attention, too.
“I suppose we need to go to bed.”
Jake finished her sentence. “Together?”
“Not tonight.” She gave him a playful punch. “We have to get up early to get the little darlings on the buses. But soon.”
“Promise?” He shot her that expectant grin again.
“Absolutely,” she said, diving in for a delectable last taste.
Sugar Plum wanted to get in on the action so she nudged her head between them, and she was a hundred and twenty-five pounds, so they had to let her.
“I’m sorry I freaked out about the tabloid newspaper.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why it upset me so much. The only thing I can say is I thought it would scare you off.”
“Aw, sweetheart, I realize I’m fair game. I just ignore that crap. But I hate that it upset you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Three whole days had passed since they’d returned to Houston and CiCi hadn’t heard a word from Jake. Daddy said he was busy with the team, but so what? They couldn’t be practicing twenty-four hours a day. If he wouldn’t call her, she’d take matters into her own hands.
However, getting in touch with Jake wasn’t quite as easy as she thought. He wasn’t home and he wasn’t answering his cell, so she left messages at both places. It wasn’t until after she went to bed that CiCi heard from her missing boyfriend, lover or whatever.
“I’m sorry I haven’t called,” he said. “Things have been hectic. I was halfway to San Antonio when Dwayne called. Darrell had ended up in jail, again. This time it was for a bar brawl and Dwayne wanted me to pick him up. I can’t believe the idiot had the gall to ask me for a favor.”
“You didn’t do it, did you?”
“Nope. But I did ream him out about the Texas Tattler story, and he confessed. It seems that skanky guy is a friend of his.”
CiCi knew how much his family meant to him—and also how much they irritated him.
“I told Dwayne in no uncertain terms that the money well has dried up.” Jake paused. “I hope he got the message. They’d better get it together or they’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”
“That must’ve been hard, but you had to do it.”
“Hey, let’s talk about something more pleasant. Will you let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night? Then we can come back to my place.”
His suggestion reminded CiCi that she was way too old to be living at home. It was definitely time to get a place of her own.
AFTER PICKING CiCi up the following evening, Jake whipped into his reserved spot in the underground garage. He’d probably left rubber all the way down the ramp.
“I thought we were going out to eat,” CiCi teased.
“The restaurant I have in mind delivers,” Jake said, hurrying CiCi to the elevator.
“Do you eat out a lot?”
He pushed the up button on the elevator. “Actually, I usually cook. It’s a matter of survival. A steady diet of boxed mac and cheese got really old.”
“So we’re not having mac and cheese.” CiCi put her arms around his neck and the conversation ceased.
The luxury condo with its expansive view of the city lights was Jake’s reward for years of hard work.
“This is my home, sweet home.” He ushered CiCi into the professionally decorated room featuring floor-to-ceiling windows, and steered her over to the glass.
“What do you think of the view?”
The city lay at CiCi’s feet all gussied up like a Las Vegas showgirl. It was beautiful, but not nearly as alluring as the man standing next to her.
“I’m afraid of heights but I love checking out the view from tall buildings.”
“Me, too, to both.” Jake pulled her into his arms. “So, should I order dinner or would you prefer a little appetizer?”
The glint in his eye was impossible to miss. And sure enough, he didn’t give her a chance to answer before delving into a no-holds-barred kiss.
If she could have, CiCi would have burrowed into his skin. When he lifted her blouse and spread his fingers over her bare stomach, she reminded herself to breathe. Breathing was almost impossible when Jake lightly brushed his fingers over her nipple. Then he replaced his fingers with his mouth, suckling her through the fabric of her lacy bra.
Somehow that was almost more erotic than if he’d removed her bra. And when he went for a series of warm kisses and gentle nibbles on her neck, she was a goner.
CiCi realized that sex had never been like this with Tank. That cretin was more of a thirty-second kind of guy, while Jake was a man who took his time. And as they say in country music—that ain’t too shabby.
Much later Jake was spooning her, his hand on her breast and his breath tickling her neck.
“Can you spend the night?” He kissed the side of her neck before licking her ear. “I’ll fix you breakfast. I make a mean omelet.” Jake sweetened the deal by a flurry of kisses down the ridge of her spine.
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Breakfast? Was he kid ding? She was ready to eat him up and he was discussing eggs?
“What’s on the menu?” CiCi couldn’t resist the double entendre.
“We’ll see,” he said, turning her face to capture her lips in another deep kiss.
THE NEXT MORNING when Jake walked her to her parents’ front door, CiCi felt like a naughty teen. Soon, very soon, she’d have her own place and Jake would be welcome anytime. His chrome-and-glass bachelor pad was beautiful, but it didn’t feel very homey. And try as she might, CiCi couldn’t shake the thought that he’d entertained other women there.
“Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”
Jake paused before answering. “Can I pass without making you mad?”
“You don’t want to run into Daddy, do you?”
“No,” he admitted sheepishly. “That’s not at the top of my list.”
“Oh, really.” She ran her hands up under his Road Runner T-shirt, disregarding the fact they were standing on the front porch in the broad daylight. CiCi reveled in what she could do to him. And the things he could do to her—
He pulled her hands out of his shirt, manacling her wrists at his chest. “I have to attend a formal dinner tomorrow night. Will you go with me? I totally forgot about it or I would have asked earlier.”
“Formal?” Although she’d been to more than her share of fund-raisers and dinners, and possessed a closet full of cocktail dresses and ball gowns, that was her personal idea of hell.
“Will you mind if I say no? I’m not sure I’m up to anything formal quite yet.” What she didn’t want to face was anyone with a camera or a microphone.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Bright and early Sunday morning, Mac showed up in CiCi’s bedroom, clutching a copy of the Houston Chronicle. What now? Wasn’t that the way it always happened—one day you were happy as a clam, and then someone smacked you in the face with a dead fish.
“What is it?” CiCi demanded.
Her sister could normally talk the ears off a cornstalk, but this time she just sat there, holding the paper.
“Give it to me.” CiCi flipped through the pages. There was nothing incendiary on the front page. The sports section looked okay. But when she turned to the society section, there was Jake, in living color, with a redhead plastered to his arm and her lips on his cheek.
“That…that…donkey’s butt!” She crushed the paper and made a three-pointer right into the trash can.
“I’m sure there’s more to this than meets the eye. He invited you to that shindig, didn’t he? He wouldn’t have done that if he was planning to hook up with another woman.”
“Yeah,” she muttered. She trusted him, she trusted him, she trusted him. So why did this feel so yucky?
Mac obviously thought CiCi was going to faint so she pushed her head between her legs. For a tiny little thing Mac was strong—and damned mean when she wanted to be.
“What did you say? I can’t understand you. Speak up.”
CiCi sw
atted at her sister but missed. “You’re smothering me!”
“Oh, okay. But you’re not going anywhere near a phone until after you’ve cooled off.” To emphasize her point Mac grabbed the cordless and stuffed it down her sweatpants.
They’d played this game throughout their adolescence, and Mac had about a fifty/fifty chance of winning.
“I know I’m overreacting. And I realize that if we want this relationship to work I have to get over my jealousy issues. I’m trying, I really am, but sometimes I have this gut reaction that I can’t control.” CiCi retrieved the paper and sat down on the bed to smooth it out. “Did you notice she’s falling out of that dress?”
Mac grabbed the paper and studied it. “Hey, I recognize her! She tried out for the Road Runner cheerleaders. She was an okay dancer, but we thought she was skanky.”
Mac handed over the phone. “I’m going to sit here and monitor your call. If you’re a good girl, I’ll give you some privacy. If not—” She arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
CiCi punched in Jake’s number. One ring, two rings, three rings. If it went to four she was hanging up.
“Hey, cupcake, what are you doing up so early?” Jake sounded sleep-rumpled and sexy.
“Did I wake you?”
“Uh-huh, but it’s no big deal.”
She heard a rustling noise as though he was sitting up in bed. “What’s happening?”
Now that she had him on the phone, she wasn’t quite sure how to begin. “Obviously you haven’t seen the paper yet.”
“No. Why?”
There was a pause and she could almost visualize his frown. “You’re in it.”
“I am?” He groaned. “Don’t tell me your old man dropped my option and didn’t bother to tell me.”
“No, that’s not it. You’re on the front page of the society section.”
“The society section?”
She obviously had his attention. “You’re with a voluptuous young lady. In fact, it looks like she’s attached to you with super glue.”