Wanted Distraction: 3 (Playing With the Boys)

by Ava McKnight

  I offered my hand as I told him, “It’s nice to see you, Carter.”

  He surprised me once more by pulling me into a loose embrace. “I think we’re beyond a handshake, Cherish.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  I honestly could have spent the rest of my days in his strong arms, but he released me, much to my extreme disappointment.

  “How’d you know it was me?” I asked.

  He made his own visual assessment, his gaze sweeping over me in no particular hurry. Shaking his head, he told me, “I’ll admit, the overall package isn’t the least bit familiar, but I’d recognize those grass-green eyes of yours anywhere.” He seemed to consider something else, though I had no idea what he thought of the “new and improved” me. Unexpectedly, a flirtatious look crossed his chiseled features as he added, “And your mouth. I’ve kissed those lips before, remember?”

  I had to reach for the edge of the table with one hand to steady myself. He remembered? Carter Davis must have kissed dozens of women over the years, yet he recalled he’d planted one on me that still rocked my world when I thought of it ten years later?

  I remained silent, processing a dozen different emotions that slammed into me at once.

  His grin faded. “Guess it wasn’t as memorable as I’d thought.”

  I had to laugh at that one. As if! “You kissed me at prom. You’d gone stag with a bunch of other football players.” I could mentally conjure the entire evening. “Boy, did that liplock give people something to talk about.” And me something to fantasize about.

  “I’ve never put much stock into what people talk about. All I know is, you were upset about your date going off with a girl whose name I can’t remember. And when you agreed to dance with me, I wanted to kiss you until you smiled again.”

  “I did. Immediately,” I admitted, though it made my face flush.

  “Anyway,” he said in such a comfortable, friendly tone I nearly melted at his feet, “it’s really great to see you. I thought about you when I flew into town, wondering if you’d pursued your dream of a journalism career.”

  “I did.”

  “What are you doing here tonight? Meeting someone?”

  “Yes, sort of,” I said, feeling a tinge of guilt over keeping Taylor’s name on the reservation, and not identifying myself upfront as being tonight’s interviewer. “It’s not a date, though.” Lifting my chin, I told him, “I’m doing the feature on you for Scottsdale Live magazine.”

  His brow furrowed. “I thought I was meeting someone named Taylor Whitney.”

  “Yeah, that’s my fault. I wanted the story after I saw that article on you in the Republic. I hope you don’t mind.”

  His sexy grin returned, and it lit his eyes. “Are you kidding? This is fantastic.” His chest puffed slightly as he added, “So you knew all along you’d be seeing me this evening.”

  I realized my appearance spoke volumes. This wasn’t just a random run-in, with me coincidentally all dolled up. There was no coincidence in sight, and that point was clearly not lost on him.

  Pulling out the chair I’d previously occupied, he gestured toward it. Then leaned in close and said in a low voice, “I would’ve been happy to get together with you without the interview as an excuse.”

  My heart fluttered. I sank onto the plump cushion and let him scoot the chair in for me. Though I was instantly a bundle of nerves, I insisted, “I really am here for the interview.”

  He chuckled softly, and the sensuous sound reverberated deep within me.

  When he took the seat across from me, the waiter swooped in with another ice water and asked, “Can I bring you anything else, Mr. Davis?” Obviously a fan. Though he quickly caught his faux pas of snubbing me, and added, “Or you, Miss?”

  I smiled and waved a hand. “Water’s fine with me.”

  “Same here, thanks,” Carter said.

  Our server reluctantly drifted off, but before I could pose my first question to Carter, another man approached our table.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but my son and I are 49ers fans and I wondered if I could get your autograph for him.”

  Carter was the epitome of gracious manners. “Sure. What’s his name?”

  “Billy.”

  He used the pen the man handed over and signed the napkin with the hotel’s name and logo on it. Returning both, he said, “Tell Billy I said thanks for watching.”

  “He’s sixteen and plays ball too. This’ll mean a lot to him.”

  The fan left us to rejoin his party of men dressed in Dockers and polo shirts with name badges pinned at their chests. All likely at the resort for a conference.

  I said, “That happens frequently, I suspect.”

  “Makes it difficult to have a private conversation in public, but I can’t ignore the people who buy the tickets to see the team play.”

  How humble of him to have used the word “team”, rather than to say, “To see me play.”

  Carter hadn’t changed a bit. I had always liked how down to earth he was, even when he’d been the most popular boy in school. Our senior year, he’d joined our newspaper staff a few days after the semester had started. With such a dismal turnout—only four people had signed up for the journalism class that put out the paper—it seemed we’d fold that year. But then Carter and a few others had wandered into the newsroom and a staff had been formed.

  Carter had taken on the position of sports editor, though he’d had no journalistic skills or training at the time. I’d rolled my eyes and thought, Just because you’re a jock, doesn’t mean you can write about sports. How wrong I’d been!

  He’d come to me for guidance right off the bat, not the least bit embarrassed to admit he had no idea what he was going to do with an entire page assigned to him. After telling me he had no experience, but had always done well in English classes, he said he was serious about making the sports page something worthy of the award-winning paper we’d had the last couple of years. I was the editor-in-chief and wanted that tradition to continue as well. I’d made major contributions over the previous two years and we’d gained unprecedented recognition that had, in turn, resulted in a number of our staffers receiving scholarships for college. I’d hoped to follow in their footsteps.

  I’d found Carter’s modesty enchanting, and his studious side refreshing. And I particularly liked his ambition. Since we’d had a bare-bones staff, he’d had to write all of the articles for his page, which meant covering games he starred in without being biased. He’d conquered the sports page as successfully as he had the gridiron.

  I had a feeling his background in journalism made him more open to press conferences and interviews, and amiable with reporters and fans.

  “So,” he said, breaking into my wayward thoughts, “you work for a magazine now. That’s great.”

  “I enjoy it. I went to ASU on a scholarship and then did a stint with the Arizona Republic for a couple years before landing the job with Scottsdale Live.”

  He eyed me a moment, then asked, “Why didn’t you let my agent know you were taking over the article? Or contact me about it?”

  That was a tough question to tackle without divulging too much or being dishonest. “It all happened suddenly. I saw the newspaper article on you and that was when I learned you were coming home. I sort of wanted to…surprise you.”

  With another low chuckle, he said, “Mission accomplished. Not only am I blown away you’re the one interviewing me, but my mind is still reeling over how sensational you look.”

  Heat tinged my cheeks again. The man easily made me hot and tingly all over.

  “Thank you,” I said, relishing the compliment more than ever before, because it came from him.

  I’d always hated that I’d been a late bloomer. Tonight, however, I didn’t mind so much. I was happy to shock him, because it seemed to cause him to look at me with fresh eyes. He appeared to have no preconceived notions, as I’d feared would be the case if he knew in advance I’d be here this evening.
/>   “High school seems so long ago,” he mused. “And what a crazy few years.”

  “Fun for the most part,” I conceded, but didn’t say more. I preferred to move on from that topic, but Carter didn’t.

  Cocking his head to one side, he said, “I thought you enjoyed high school. Everyone knew who you were and liked you. I did too.”

  I shook my head. “You didn’t think I could take care of myself. No one did.”

  A painful confession to make, but it slipped from my lips anyway. I reached for my water, suddenly wishing I’d ordered a glass of wine instead. Something to help calm my nerves.

  With a faraway expression in his rich brown eyes—because he seemed to be reminiscing in his mind about the “good-old days”, he said, “I remember the quarterback from another school took a liking to you at a party once.” He laughed, though it had a hollow sound to it. “I was not happy about that.”

  I’d forgotten the incident. I said, “You pulled me aside and told me not to date him. You didn’t really say why, just that you had a bad feeling about it. I never did go out with him, based on your comment.”

  “I’m sure it would have been fine. He was actually a good guy. I just…didn’t want you dating him.” This seemed to perplex or concern or disturb Carter. I couldn’t tell which emotion clouded his eyes, but he dragged a hand down his face as though he really had disliked the idea of me seeing someone else.

  I gazed intently at him for a moment, then boldly ventured, “You didn’t want me to date at all, did you?”

  “No,” he said without hesitation. “Though that is an extremely selfish and stupid thing for me to say—or to have felt back then.”

  “Because you had no intention of dating me.” I tore my eyes from his and scanned the area for the waiter. “I need a glass of wine,” I mumbled as my stomach took a severe dive south.

  Our server was nowhere in sight, but I did see plenty of people taking note of us, some seemingly working up the nerve to ask for an autograph, or to just talk to Carter in general.

  He said, “The Rattlers’ management sent over a huge amenity basket, including wine. Why don’t we go talk in my suite? This corner of the patio isn’t so bad, but I still feel like we’re in a fishbowl. I’d rather talk in private.”

  I nodded, an odd, visceral pull making me stand without even thinking twice about it. I collected my things as Carter dropped a generous tip on the table for our water service.

  We left the restaurant, no doubt creating a buzz in our wake, although Carter kept a respectable distance. Luckily, the foliage on the property provided enough shadows for us to blend into as we made our way around the swimming pool and traveled a secluded path that led to the back half of the resort. We didn’t pass any guests on the walkway, for which I was grateful. Given the way I’d dressed, I suspected I looked as though I was a woman Carter had picked up at the bar.

  Interestingly, he appeared nonchalant about whether or not we were spotted together. He was quite casual about the whole thing. In fact, he inched closer to me and placed a hand on the small of my back. A wicked thrill chased down my spine and I shuddered.

  He spared a glance down at me, a brow crooked. “It’s late spring in Phoenix and you’ve got a chill?”

  I laughed. “Hardly.” The temperature had crested ninety today.

  He grinned and a knowing look crossed his handsome face. Of course my intense attraction to him was obvious—it was impossible to hide. But I was no longer that awestruck pixie I’d been in high school. I knew a thing or two about sexual chemistry and, as best as I could tell—from my point of view anyway—Carter and I had it in spades.

  When we reached the door to his suite, he fished his electronic keycard out of his pocket and inserted it in the slot above the brass lever. The green lights flashed and he cranked the handle and pushed the door open, his other hand never leaving my back.

  He gave me a gentle nudge and I stepped inside his hotel room, all sorts of thoughts suddenly springing to mind. It wasn’t just a room with a bed in it, so I should not have instantly thought of rumpling the sheets with Carter. How absurd that notion even popped into my head. But then again… It wasn’t the first time I’d imagined getting naked with him. I’d fantasized about it on numerous occasions over the years. And here I was, in his suite.

  To talk and have wine, I reminded myself. Yet I couldn’t quite dislodge the idea of sleeping with Carter. It was more than an idea. It was a burning desire that made my nipples pucker and my pussy throb.

  The door closed behind us and I jumped.

  “You okay?” he asked. “You’re not worried about being alone with me, are you?

  A strangled laugh fell from my lips.

  “Please,” I said. “I totally trust you. Though perhaps you should be worried about being alone with me.”

  I was shocked those words had leaped off my tongue, but there they were, lingering between us.

  To break the awkward moment, I told him, “I could use another glass of water, if you don’t mind. Little toasty outside.” That was a blatant lie. It’d cooled down substantially after the sun had set, and the climate had been pleasant as we’d sat on the patio. Plain and simple, Carter had my insides blazing.

  Clearly he was on to me. “Right,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone. His eyes glowed seductively in the dim lighting, the lamp in the corner by the sofa providing the only illumination in the room.

  I wondered if his thoughts ran the same direction as mine. I wasn’t a sex fiend by any stretch of the imagination, but with him, I supposed I could become one.

  He moved around me and crossed to the mini-fridge in his partial kitchen. A large, round table sat in the dining area, and a basket of goodies took up a vast portion of it. He hadn’t been kidding about the size of the delivery.

  “You could eat and drink for a week out of this basket.”

  With a laugh, he said, “You’re probably right.”

  Retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge, he poured two glasses and handed one to me.

  Then he asked, “What do you prefer—white or red?”

  I eyed the labels on the bottles of red still nestled against thin, accordion-style shreds of filler in the Rattlers’ colors of copper, teal and black. Whistling under my breath at the expensive varietals—I knew high-end wines because I’d covered a number of wine festivals for the magazine—I selected a Sangiovese.

  “This will do nicely.”

  “You have good taste.”

  He took the bottle from me and uncorked it as I sipped my water. I liked watching him do even the simplest things like work a wine pull and fill our glasses. He moved fluidly, almost gracefully, despite his size. And his big hands weren’t the least bit clumsy. His fingers were long and tapered, and I couldn’t help but think of them trailing languidly along my inner thigh or brushing over a bare breast.

  My own fingers shook slightly as I exchanged my water for the wine. We touched the rims of our glasses together as his gaze locked with mine.

  “It really is good to see you, Cherish. I’ve thought about you over the years. Wondered what you were up to, if you’d gotten married and had kids.”

  I held up my bare left hand, the backside facing Carter. Wiggling my fingers, I said, “Still single. Haven’t met anyone who curls my toes enough to have a long-term relationship with.”

  It occurred to me that wasn’t entirely true. Just thinking of Carter could do the trick. But he’d always been out of my reach, so my fantasizing about him hadn’t gone further than breath-stealing kisses like the one we’d had at prom, or sexy vignettes I’d conjured in my mind whenever I thought of him.

  He took a sip of wine, then asked, “Want to sit?” He gestured toward the sofa.

  With a small laugh, I said, “I’m supposed to be interviewing you, aren’t I?”

  “Why don’t we sideline that for tonight?” He took my free hand and led me over to the couch, in soft yellow with deep crimson, Southwestern accents. His
touch was simple and comfortable, yet electrifying at the same time. His warm, supple skin felt heavenly against mine, and there seemed to be no awkwardness over the intimate contact. Certainly not on my part. I had no desire to pull my hand from his, so I left it in the cozy cocoon he created.

  We sat next to each other, our twined fingers resting on his thigh.

  “How about I send over tickets to this weekend’s game?” he suggested. “We can meet in the locker room afterward for the interview. If the team wins, it’ll be a great start to my career here.”

  I nodded, but felt compelled to ask, “Why did you leave the 49ers for arena football?”

  Taylor had said she thought there was a story with that situation. I’d sniff it out for her and give her credit in the magazine if she’d really been onto something. Maybe Carter had been offered a heftier paycheck. That was always newsworthy when it came to professional sports.

  He took a bigger gulp of wine this time, then set his glass on the coffee table. He said, “Would you mind if I got out of this suit jacket?”

  “Of course not.” Although, that meant I could no longer hold his hand hostage.

  I instantly missed his warmth and the connection to him.

  He shrugged out of his jacket, but didn’t bother loosening his tie. I wondered if he thought I wasn’t as at ease around him as he seemed to be with me. Did he still think I might have reservations about being alone with him in his hotel room? The notion made me slightly angry. What did I have to do to prove to him I trusted him—and that I was on cloud nine being this close to him?

  “I’m not afraid of you, Carter. Take your tie off too. Get comfortable.” I gave him a serious look and added, “You don’t have to act so tentative with me, or so…I don’t know. Reticent?”

  He cleared his throat, as though to dislodge his retort. Then he loosened his tie, though he didn’t remove it.

  “I’m not trying to offend you, Cherish. All those protective feelings I had toward you in high school came back to me the second I saw you. Only this time… It’s me I should warn you about.”