by Vi Keeland
“It is.”
“How new?”
“So new, she doesn’t even know about it yet.”
“Pardon?”
“I plan to tell her about our new relationship right after this interview.”
“Tell her? Not ask her?”
“Yep. We’ve been playing cat-and-mouse for a while. There’s been something going on for weeks. But I’ve been avoiding it because I’m not the best at relationships.”
“And now that’s changed?”
“It has. She makes me nuts. But I also can’t stop thinking about her. So it’s time to make it official and take myself off the market to see how things go.”
I had no idea how to respond to that, so I wrapped things up. Turning to the camera, I delivered my closing. “You heard it here first, ladies. Brody Easton has taken himself off the market. I’m sure there are legions of women devastated by the news. But WMBC wishes the Super Bowl MVP good luck in the game tomorrow and with his new relationship. This reporter guesses one might be easier for him to manage than the other.”
Nick turned off the camera. While he packed up the lighting, he said, “Great interview. Edit is going to have a hard time finding things to cut to get the final twenty-two in the can.”
“Thanks, Nick.”
Brody and I helped pack up the rest of the equipment. It was after nine by the time we were done. Nick glanced at his phone. “Want me to drop you at your date? You’re already late.”
“Thanks, but I sent him a text earlier and postponed.”
Nick nodded. “Drop you at home?”
“I’ll drop her,” Brody said. “Let me help you lug this shit to the van.”
I picked up a bag. Brody took it from my hand. “Stay. I got it. I’ll be right back.”
While he was gone, I rearranged the living room furniture back to how it had been before the interview. Brody came in just as I was finishing setting the throw pillows back on the couch.
“You should get some monogrammed throw pillows for the couch,” I said. “Make it seem less like a hotel and more homey.”
“When did you postpone the date?”
I held one pillow against my chest. “After I came out of the closet.”
“Not after I made you late?”
I shook my head. The way I’d felt when I walked out of that closet, I knew going on a date with Michael would have been wrong. Whether I was acting upon them or not, I had feelings for another man. It was wrong to begin a relationship with someone when my thoughts were really with someone else.
“You’re postponing it indefinitely.”
“Am I?”
He nodded and walked around the couch. Reaching for my hand, he looked into my eyes. “I can do exclusive. Hell, the thought of you with anyone else makes me fucking insane. I insist on exclusive. And dating. I’m game for whatever you want to do. The relationship part, I’m probably going to need you to bear with me on. It’s been a long time since I’ve had one. I’ll probably fuck up and piss you off a lot, but I’d like to try.”
Wow. I wasn’t about to mention that I’d been ready to give in to his sex-only arrangement. I guess I’d won the battle of the holdout. By about thirty seconds. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes. I’d like to try, too. You’re an arrogant ass. But there’s something about you I like.”
He picked up my other hand and brought it to his lips, dropping a sweet kiss on the top. “Awesome. Dinner, then fucking? Or fucking, then dinner?
“Gee. How is a girl to decide with such titillating choices?”
“Flip a coin. Heads—you give me. Tails—I take yours. It’s a total win-win for you.” He winked. “By the way, I really like when you work ‘tit’ into our conversation, dirty girl.”
I laughed. “How about we start with an actual date?”
“Let’s go.”
“Not so fast.”
Brody looked like I’d kicked his puppy. “What?”
“If we’re going to do this, let’s start it right. You have a game tomorrow. I want a real date. How about next weekend?”
“No way.”
“Impatient much?”
“Patience is bitter. It's the fruit that’s sweet.”
“Did you just quote Aristotle?”
“Maybe.” He yanked the hand he was holding, pulling me against him hard. “Dinner. Wednesday night. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Okay.”
“Now kiss me already, goddamn it.”
I didn’t have time to respond. In a heartbeat, his lips were on mine. His arms wrapped possessively around me, pulling me snugly against him. My knees went weak. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I would have sworn there was a mass of butterflies flapping their wings in the pit of my stomach. With a groan that echoed through our mouths and vibrated down my entire body, he licked my lips and nudged my mouth open. His tongue aggressively pursued mine and then took everything I gave. The desperation and intensity of the kiss was like nothing I’d ever felt before. My hands dug into his hair as he grabbed a handful of mine and tugged my head back further to where he wanted me. I whimpered, feeling desire flow from him and wrap around me. I moaned when I felt his hard-on pushing up against my stomach.
Holy shit.
We stayed like that for a long time. Grabbing and groping. Pulling and needing. When he finally released my mouth, he sucked on my bottom lip and released a hungry groan. “Overnight bag. Bring a bag Wednesday. Because there’s no way I’m letting you go again.”
Chapter 11
Brody
“You know, when I was a kid they had real football players. They wore leather helmets and didn’t have bi-weeks. What kind of a sissy athlete needs a week off in the middle of the season?”
“When you were a kid, they kept score by chiseling X marks into stone.” I tossed a jersey to Grouper. Next week was a designated throwback week, when the team wore replica uniforms from years back. I’d ordered an extra for Grouper III. “Tell Guppy I signed it with a washable marker this time. Don’t want his mother getting another smelly-boy call from the school.”
Grouper held it up and sighed nostalgically. “I remember this uniform. This was from the non-pussy-player period.”
“Bite me, old man.”
Marlene was sitting on the edge of her bed, a floral swim cap on her head. She was scribbling some notes on her notepad while the closing credits of The Price Is Right rolled on the TV screen behind her. Guess I’m late today.
“Going swimming, Marlene?” I leaned in and kissed her cheek.
She looked up at me blankly. “Are you the bus driver?”
“No. I’m Brody. Remember?”
She still looked confused.
“I used to live next door.”
Recognition registered. “Willow’s Brody.” She looked around me. “Is she with you today?”
“Not today, Marlene.”
“She didn’t want to come?”
I hated when she asked me these questions. Sometimes it was easier when she didn’t remember who I was. “She’s working on an art project up at my cabin. You know how she can get when she’s working.”
That seemed to pacify her. So I changed the subject to one of her favorites. “How did you do today on your show?”
She looked down at her notepad. “I would have won the whole shebang. The woman who was in the finale, Kathryn, her name was, only had one oar in the water.”
“They can’t all be like you. Or it wouldn’t be much of a game, would it?”
“That Barker’s microphone is too skinny. I don’t know what he’s trying to prove.”
I chuckled. “Yeah. I’m not sure on that one either.”
Marlene took the remote off her nightstand and flicked the TV off.
“What time is swimming? I didn’t realize they changed the schedule.”
“Eleven.”
I looked down at my watch. It was five after twelve.
Marlene and I shot the sh
it for a while, and eventually Shannon walked in, carrying a small clear plastic shot glass containing a few pills. She handed them to Marlene with a cup of water.
“Are they running late for swimming?” I asked.
“Nope. Swimming isn’t until Wednesday at two.”
I glanced sideways at Marlene’s swim cap, then back to Shannon.
She shrugged. “She got upset when I tried to take it off of her this morning. I told her swimming wasn’t until tomorrow. She told me I had shit for brains. Right, Marlene?”
Marlene nodded and handed her back the empty pill cup. She spoke as if she were verifying the time. “That’s right. Shit for brains, that one.”
Shannon gave me a thumbs-up and a wink as she left the room.
An hour later, Marlene let me help her remove the rubber swim cap. The damn thing was so tight, it left a red indent across her forehead where the edge cut off her circulation.
“I’m going to get going. Late practice this afternoon.”
She nodded. “You kiss that granddaughter of mine and tell her not to work too hard.”
“I will.”
Chapter 12
Delilah
After I’d returned from a two-hour session in the editing room, the receptionist walked into my office carrying a tall glass vase full not of flowers but of water. The puzzled look on her face matched mine. Until I saw that the vase wasn’t actually empty. A single blue beta fish was swimming around, and the floor was lined with a layer of blue and yellow colored gravel. She handed me the small florist’s card, glanced at the other vase on my desk—the one full of sticks—and walked out, shaking her head.
I unsealed the card. I named him Brody. You’re welcome.
I smiled, remembering our conversation about me never having a pet before. For a man who’d told me women didn’t really want bullshit flowers and sweet gestures—what they really wanted was a good banging against the wall—I was pretty sure he was giving me both today.
Later that afternoon, I was viewing a replay of my interview with Brody on my laptop. The sound of his gritty voice and the confidence he exuded was a little like foreplay for our date tonight. I was anxious, excited and nervous all at once. Closing my eyes as he spoke, I leaned back in my chair and visualized him standing before me, that commanding voice telling me to undress.
Unbutton your shirt.
Take off that bra.
God, even imagining it stirred a feminine place in me.
Lift that skirt.
Higher, Delilah.
You know what I’m going to do to you…
A knock on my office door startled me, and I jumped out of my seat. Shit.
“Hey. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you saw me.”
“Michael. Hi. Guess I was lost in my work.” I had texted at the last minute to cancel our date the other night, and he’d been very understanding. I hadn’t exactly lied when I told him an interview was running a few hours later than planned and asked for a rain check. Last night, he’d texted me to cash in the rain check I’d promised—and not knowing how to respond, I just never responded.
“Just stopped in to say hello. See how you were doing.”
“I’m good. Busy. Sorry I didn’t text back yet. My schedule has just been so crazy lately.”
His eyes zoned in on the roses he sent displayed on the file cabinet behind me, then he took note of the vase full of sticks on the corner of the front of my desk. He looked justifiably puzzled. They added something to my otherwise drab office—perhaps a splash of crazy. Yet he didn’t question the oddity.
“Would you be up for grabbing a bite for dinner tonight?”
“I actually have plans for tonight. Sorry.”
“Work again?”
Michael was watching me, waiting for a response. It felt odd to tell him that I was going on a date. Probably because of my gnawing guilt that the date was with the guy I’d canceled on him the other night because of. So I lied. “Yes. I need to reshoot part of an interview I did.”
A look of relief passed over Michael’s face. “Man, being the boss around here doesn’t earn any perks, does it?”
“I guess not.” I tried to laugh it off.
“One night next week, then?”
I nodded, leaving things very noncommittal. Thankfully, my phone rang.
“Excuse me a minute.” I was relieved to get out of the conversation and answer my office line. “Delilah Maddox.”
Brody’s sexy voice growled through the phone. “Did you bring an overnight bag to work?”
I looked up at Michael; he was still standing in my doorway. “I did.”
“You actually don’t need anything in it. I’ll pick you up in an hour. You’ll get your date. Then I’m going to give you my own version of those sweet gestures you like so much.”
I cleared my throat. “Okay. That sounds good.”
“Is someone standing there?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Are you wearing a skirt?”
“Yes.”
“Take off your panties before I pick you up.”
“Umm . . . ”
“An hour, Delilah. No panties. I’m salivating at the thought of tasting you.”
The phone disconnected, and I was left sitting there like an idiot, my body buzzing and my mouth hanging open.
“Are you okay?” Michael looked concerned.
“Yes.” I blinked myself back to the moment. “Sorry about that.”
“I’ll let you get back to work. Call you next week?”
“That sounds great. Sure.”
Maybe by then, I’d grow a backbone.
***
In the ten minutes I stood in the bathroom stall, I’d taken my underwear off and put it back on three times. The outer door opened again, and two women whose voices I didn’t recognize walked in, chatting. This was ridiculous.
I decided to rise to the challenge. I balled the black lacy thong I was wearing in my palm, then stuffed it into the zippered compartment of my purse. Stepping out, it felt liberating. I washed my hands and headed to the exit of my office complex.
Through the glass front doors, I saw Brody leaning against his car. He was swinging the keys around casually and watching the people come and go from the building. I was an equal mix of excited and nervous as I stepped onto the sidewalk. When he caught sight of me, his face curved into a delicious grin. He folded his arms across his chest and watched me intently as I walked toward the car. The street was filled with people walking in all directions, yet he didn’t seem to notice a single one of them. It was the craziest thing—the way he was looking at me, watching every move I made with desire on his face—was actually turning me on a little. My body became aroused without a single touch. I was suddenly starving, but it definitely wasn’t for dinner.
He extended a hand to me as I neared, then abruptly tugged it hard, pulling me against him. Surprising me, he proceeded to kiss me—right there on the street. And what a kiss.
My brain was short-circuited when he finally released my mouth. “Damn.” His hands slid down and locked around my waist, keeping me flush against him. “We could skip the date.”
Even though my body wanted nothing more than to do exactly that, I said, “I can’t make it that easy for you now, can I?”
“You’ve done nothing but make me hard since the day I met you.” He pulled me even tighter against him—I literally felt his sincerity. Pushing against my stomach.
“So where are we going?”
“Dinner and a museum.”
“Museum?”
“You said you loved them the other day.”
“For a guy who doesn’t believe in bullshit flowers and sweet gestures, you’re pretty damn good at them.”
Even though we went to a small restaurant that was off the celebrity grid, between the time the valet took the car and when we were seated at a quiet table in the corner, two people stopped us.
“Sorry about that.”
&n
bsp; “It’s fine. I’m used to it. Only I don’t remember the wives of the men who stopped my dad looking at him the way that last guy’s wife was ogling you.”
“I met your dad once.”
“You did?”
“Yep. Training camp my first year on the team. He took me aside, and we talked for about a half hour. He used to come the first day of every season.”
“What did you talk about?”
“He told me if I ever went near his daughter, he’d crush my nuts in a vise.”
My eyes widened. “Really?”
“Nah, I’m just screwing with you.”
I laughed. I did that a lot around Brody. He had an uncanny ability to change my mood in an instant. One minute I would be laughing, the next I could be practically panting from the extreme sexual tension.
After we had ordered wine and appetizers, another excited fan interrupted our conversation and asked for an autograph. It was mid football season, and I was having dinner with the starting quarterback of the number-two-ranked team.
“Does it bother you? Fame?”
“Not usually. I generally don’t do anything in public that I care about being interrupted. Believe it or not, I don’t go out too much.”
“I’ve seen you photographed with plenty of women.”
“Most of that was from events. Obligations for sponsors or the team. I actually can’t remember the last time I had a date like this. Without it being something I was required to attend.”
“Why is that? I’m guessing it isn’t from lack of opportunity.”
“I like to keep my focus on the game.”
“So you’ve never had a serious relationship?”
Brody leaned back into his chair and glanced around the restaurant. “I’ve had a relationship, yes.”
“Just one?”
“Just one.” A muscle in his jaw flexed. Clearly this conversation made him uncomfortable. But I wanted to know more about him.
“What happened?”
“It ended.”
“I gathered that much, considering we’re sitting here, and you’ve been trying to get me to sleep with you for weeks.”
Brody’s eyebrows shot up. “Why does it always feel like I’m being interviewed when we’re together?”