Game For Love: Game for You (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Jami Davenport

  Sarah watched Cole’s back disappear through the doorway, followed by manly shouting, cursing, and crashing furniture. She rolled her eyes and sighed, allowing herself the brief luxury of pretending Branson was hers and this was just another day in paradise.

  Pathetic? Yes. Understandable? Hell, yeah, if a person had lived the life she’d lived.

  Sarah turned back to her job of making Branson’s beautiful home gleam and sparkle, a job she took great pride in. Someday, she swore she’d have a house like this and a drool-worthy, sweet man like Branson, because she deserved both.

  * * * *

  Cole sat on the veranda and stared across the water. Sarah had lifted his spirits like a strong breeze lifted fog on the bay. With her gone, his spirits took a nose dive, and he slumped in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face.

  He heard the doorbell, heard Cole’s voice. He didn’t want company, not while he still wallowed in pathetic self-pity. Thank God, Sarah always had his back. She’d take care of Cole.

  Only she didn’t. The damn, stubborn woman.

  Branson frowned as Cole strode into the room as if he owned the place. Turning his back on his buddy, he lifted a bottle of beer to his lips.

  Cole yanked the beer from his hand and glared down at him.

  The despair and hopelessness lurking inside Branson snapped. He lunged at his friend in an angry frenzy, taking his frustrations out on Cole. Cussing, they careened off the railing and slammed to the ground, wrestling with each other, banging into the furniture, tipping over an expensive vase—Sarah would kick his ass for that—yet neither one of them used their fists. They rolled around on the veranda, brute strength pitted against brute strength. Branson had a weight and bulk advantage, but Cole was quicker and more pliable.

  It felt damn good to burn off some of his negative energy.

  Finally, exhausted, they rolled onto their backs, chests heaving, and lay still. Branson stared at the blue sky, then squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could block out the incidents the past week.

  Cole crawled to his feet and held a hand out to Branson. Branson hesitated then took the offer of friendship, rising to stand next to the guy who still had everything Branson would kill to have again.

  Branson grabbed a couple beers from an outdoor bar fridge and handed one to Cole.

  “You okay?” Cole said, still breathless, as he bent to pick up one of the many pieces of lawn furniture now scattered about.

  “Hell, yeah. You can’t hurt me.” Surveying the mess, Branson righted a few more chairs.

  “I’m talking about your retirement.”

  “I’m not retiring.” Branson clenched his jaw, refusing to admit what he knew in his heart.

  Cole cast a sympathetic glance in his direction, and Branson considered jumping the jerk again.

  “I’m not.”

  “Bran, you know it’s over. Once you’ve been labeled as a head-injury risk, they’re done with you.”

  Branson opened his mouth to deny the truth, as if denial would keep the wolves at bay. Only these wolves were already feasting on the bones of his pro career.

  You’re done, Bull. Face it.

  They sat down quietly, both staring at the expansive view with only the sounds of a distant vacuum cleaner breaking the silence.

  Branson swallowed back the lump in his throat, sucked in a deep breath, and faced facts. “I know.”

  “Sorry, man.” Cole nodded, mercifully not asking for Branson to clarify.

  “Yeah, it sucks.” Branson squared his jaw and refused to show weakness.

  “What’re your plans?”

  “I’ve got stuff going on. Just need to pick what sounds best.” What a frigging liar he was, and by Cole’s expression, his buddy saw right through him.

  Cole jerked his head toward the doorway. “What about your hot little housekeeper? Is she part of those future plans?”

  Branson frowned and glared at his buddy. “Why would she be?”

  “Well, number one she’s hot, number two she’s hot, and number three—”

  “She’s hot. Yeah, I get the point, but why are you noticing? Aren’t you a happily married man?”

  “Shit, yeah, but I’m always looking to help a buddy get what I have, and I’ve wondered why you never showed interest in her.” Cole squinted in the direction of the door. “You could use a nice girl like her. Look what it did for me. I’m happier than hell with my life. You need that, too. I couldn’t imagine life without football before I met her, now I know I’ll do just fine. Don’t get me wrong, I love the game, but I love Anna more, and I look forward to moving to a new chapter in my life with her by my side when the time comes.”

  “Good for you,” Branson grunted with more harshness than intended. So he was a little jealous of Cole’s life. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have had that life if he’d wanted, but he’d made football his priority and a serious relationship never fit within those parameters.

  “So are you?”

  Branson frowned, narrowing his eyes at Cole. “Am I what?”

  “Are you going to ask her out? She’s genuine, cute, a hard worker, and she’s put up with you over the past three years.” Cole raised one brow and waited for his friend to reply.

  Branson started to deny any interest in his housekeeper, but he snapped his mouth shut before uttering the words. After all, he might be interested, and what could it hurt?

  “I might.”

  “Good. Maybe we can try a double-date.” Cole checked his cell and stood, swatting Branson on the arm. “Gotta go, my man. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Yeah.” Branson followed Cole to the door, for lack of anything better to do.

  As soon as the door clicked shut on Cole’s ass, Branson went in search of Sarah. He paused in the doorway of kitchen, watching her scrub the already-gleaming granite counters. The muscles in her thin arms flexed as she rubbed back and forth, leaning into the sponge to put more pressure on it. Her cute little ass rose up in the air as she leaned down further. Holy crap, she really was hot, in a girl-next-door kind of way, and girl-next-door appealed to him a helluva lot more than stick-thin models with zero-personality and brains to match.

  “Hey.” He called out to her as he skirted around the counter and pulled a soda from the refrigerator.

  Sarah jumped, as if he’d startled her. “Oh, hi.”

  Branson leaned against the counter and sipped his soda, watching her. She twisted the sponge in her hands and stared back, this time meeting his gaze. Her deep brown eyes slipped past his defenses, giving him the impression she could see deep inside him to places he kept locked tight from the rest of the world.

  Branson shook his head, trying to break the heady spell she cast on him. “So, didn’t I tell you not to let anyone in?”

  For a moment alarm crossed her features, then, as she’d done earlier, she squared her shoulders and faced him head-on. “I did what was best for you.” The fire in her gaze challenged him to cross her.

  Branson had to chuckle. He liked this assertive side of her, loved seeing her come out of her shell and defend herself. “Well, then, I guess I can’t question your motives.”

  “No, you cannot.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed, as if they were both waiting for the other to speak.

  Branson took another swig of the cold soda and swallowed. All of a sudden, something about this diminutive female scared the shit out of him more than two all-pro linebackers bearing down on him as he stretched to catch a pass.

  “Is your mother working tonight?” he said on a whim, as an idea formed in his head, planted there by his rat bastard buddy.

  “No, she has the night off.” Confusion clouded her eyes, and she blinked her long eyelashes.

  “Good. Let me take you to dinner as a reward for putting up with me these past few years.” He held his breath, as if her answer might be the most important thing in his current life. Hell, maybe it was.

  “I can’t do that.” She smiled shyly and went back t
o scrubbing the already clean counter.

  Panic flooded him with desperation. “Please. I don’t feel like being alone.” He spoke with absolute sincerity, even as he cringed at admitting to a weakness. For her.

  She glanced over her shoulder, biting on that plump, pink lower lip, and he suppressed a groan, as his dick shot to rock-hard attention. Thank God her eyes didn’t waver from his face, or she’d see the evidence of his arousal bulging inside the soft fabric of his sweats.

  After a long, painful silence, she nodded. “Okay.”

  He released his breath in a rush. “What kind of food do you like?”

  “I’ll eat anything, but I love a good steak.”

  He found himself grinning like a high school boy who’d snagged a date to the prom with the head cheerleader. “Steak, it is. I know just the place. Best steaks around. What time can I pick you up?”

  “When I’m done for the day, I’ll go home and change and meet you back here about six?”

  Obviously, she didn’t want him to see where she lived. Well, okay, he was good with that.

  She went back to work, and Branson left for the gym to work out, because he hadn’t a clue what else to do with himself. Regardless, he stepped a little lighter and looked forward to the evening.

  Maybe his life was looking up.

  Chapter 2

  Sarah stared in the mirror at her makeup job. Less is more, so she wiped off the bulk of it for the third time and started over. Carol, her sister, watched from the doorway. She wished she’d go away and leave Sarah with her fantasy.

  “So who’s the hot date?”

  “No one you’ve met.” Her hands shook thinking about the hot hunk she’d been crushing on ever since she’d gone to work for him three years, two months, and nine days ago.

  He’d never know that the bulk of those beatings she’d suffered at the hands of her former boyfriend happened because of his intense jealousy and suspicion over her working for a football player. Not just any player, but a man voted one of the top ten sexiest players in football. Sometimes, she swore Mike beat her just to make sure she wouldn’t be attractive to Branson. She’d wanted out of the relationship almost as soon as she got into it, but it’d been harder to break away than she’d ever imagined. When Mike was charged with armed assault, attempted murder, and possession and distribution of an illegal substance, they put him away for a long time and set Sarah free before she became the man’s next victim. She spent the next several months building herself up in all the places Mike had broken her down. The old doubts and fears still crept in from time to time, but she fought them, winning each battle, and intent on winning the war.

  She was a new person now and going to dinner with the hottest man ever. And sweet, too, not that she’d been a good judge of male character over the years, with one bad boyfriend after another. But she’d worked on herself these past several months, determined not to fall into another bad situation again.

  “I’m glad to see you finally dating after that asshole.”

  “It’s not really a date.”

  “Then what is it?”

  She turned to Carol, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face. “My boss is treating me to dinner as a reward for all the good work I’ve done.”

  “Your boss? As in Branson Bullock?” Her sister’s eyebrow shot upward, and she shook her head as if in disbelief.

  “One and the same.” Sarah grinned and twirled around in her best sundress, a flirty little halter-dress in a bright Hawaiian print with a mid-thigh skirt and a v-neckline that showed a hint of cleavage without being tacky. The dress hugged her curves in a flattering way. “How do I look?”

  “Fantastic.” Her sister sobered slightly. “This is more than just a dinner out for you. Be careful. You fall too hard and too fast. It blinds you to the truth of a situation.”

  “I promise. Besides, he’s a good man. Nothing like Mike or any of the losers that used to hang around.”

  “You are one lucky lady. First, you get to work for him, now he’s taking you to dinner. Just be careful. Don’t read any more into it than there is.” Carol lectured her, as she often loved to do. Her sister had gone back to school and gotten her LPN, refusing to succumb to the poverty around them. In a way, she was Sarah’s heroine.

  “I keep pinching myself. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but a girl can have her fantasy.”

  “Just like Cinderella.”

  “Only there are no happily-ever-after’s and Prince Charming is an urban myth.” Sarah went back to her makeup, digging through the bag for just the right color of lipstick. Dammit, she wanted that fantasy, myth or not.

  “Sis, you’ve got that right. Men are pigs. Some just hide it better than others.”

  “I’m sure there have to be a few good men out there somewhere. Branson’s always been polite to me, never rude, and he pays generously.”

  “Watch out for him. He’s a player.”

  “Would one night with Branson be such a bad idea?” Sarah paused and studied her sister in the mirror.

  “Are you kidding me? I’d be all over that.” Carol laughed and hugged Sarah’s shoulders.

  “But I work for him. One night in bed isn’t work losing my job over.”

  “Maybe he’d give you a raise for other duties as performed.”

  “Oh, great, prostitute myself.” Sarah laughed, surprising herself. “Fantasies are fine. Reality stays out of his pants and strictly business. I’m looking, but I am not touching.”

  “Suit yourself. For the record, I think you’re crazy to turn him down if he offers, just don’t fall any deeper in love with him, because he’s not the marrying type.”

  Sarah didn’t answer as she reapplied her mascara. Despite her brave words, she wasn’t sure she’d say no to the man either, nor could she keep her heart out of it because it’d already been involved with this man since the minute she met him.

  Chapter 3

  Branson smiled across the table at Sarah, who sat stiffly in her chair. Her hands trembled as she held the menu. Realizing he’d noticed, she placed the open menu on the table and ducked her head. Her nervousness touched him, and he reached a hand out to stroke her fingers. She didn’t have the soft hands of most women he dated. Hers were rough and calloused from hard work and cleaning supplies. He liked how real she was, how strong, despite how tiny. He engulfed one of her small hands in his big paw, fascinated by how slender her fingers were. The simple act of holding her hand in his shot desire to his groin and caught him off-guard again.

  Had he always had the hots for this woman, but suppressed it with football and meaningless dalliances? He wasn’t sure, but something about her felt so right, so perfect. Or was it his panic at losing football that caused him to see things that weren’t there and latch onto the first solid thing he could find? He didn’t know, but he was damn well going to spend time figuring it out.

  “No reason to be nervous. It’s just me. Besides, you look fucking fantastic. Every guy in this room wishes he were me.”

  She gaped at him with wide eyes, her cheeks coloring a deep red. “They do not.”

  Branson squeezed her hand. “You’re beautiful. Don’t you know that?”

  “I—I’m not.” Sarah tugged on her hand, but he held tight, loving her warmth.

  Branson’s smile spread further across his face. “But you are.”

  “This isn’t a date, Branson.”

  God, he loved it when she said his name, all soft, sweet, and sexy as hell. “It is now,” he announced. “And you’re mine. At least for tonight.” Where the hell those words came from he didn’t know, but he’d be damned if he’d take them back.

  “We’re on a date, and I’m yours?” she spoke softly.

  “And I’m all yours tonight, baby. This is your night. Your wish is my command. Nothing is out of the question. You want to go dancing? Take a midnight cruise? Walk the waterfront? You name it.” He’d just transformed a friendly dinner with an employee to something more, a
nd he didn’t regret it one bit.

  “No one’s ever done something like this for me before.” He could see her battling with her old programming of unworthiness.

  “Then go with it. Let’s have some fun. We could both use a night out where we’re only limited by our imaginations.”

  “I’ve never been on a boat, on the bay or anywhere else.” She spoke hesitantly, as if he might retract the offer any second.

  “Done. Let me make a few calls.”

  She nodded, her eyes lighting up. God, making her happy made him happy. As soon as they ordered, he excused himself to use his cell out in the entryway and called in a few favors to arrange a private sunset cruise for two. Of course, money talked, too, and he had plenty of that.

  He’d crossed over an invisible line and wasn’t the least bit unhappy about it. He had to taste her, kiss every inch of her naked body, and sink his cock deep inside her sweet body before the night ended. Being a decent judge of character, he was pretty certain she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He saw it in the way she gazed at him through lowered lashes with heat illuminating her deep brown eyes, the way her breath hitched when he took her hand, and the rapid rise and fall of those beautiful breasts when he’d guided her to their table. And he couldn’t come up with one damn reason why they shouldn’t both get their way.

  Tonight.

  Branson returned to the table, smug in the knowledge he’d arranged a romantic evening she’d never forget, not just to woo her into bed, but to see her eyes light up with wonder and happiness.

  He savored the red wine he’d ordered and watched her over the rim of his glass. She’d gone shy on him, which gave him the perfect reason to feel her small hand in his once again. Hey, he was an opportunist and proud of it, especially when it came to her.

  As they finished their main course and waited for dessert, he slid his chair around the small table to sit thigh-to-thigh with her, something he should’ve done an hour ago if he’d been thinking clearly, but around her, his practiced seduction techniques struck him as shallow and self-serving. With Sarah, it was all about being real and genuine, not deceptive and manipulative.