Forward Pass

by Desiree Holt

  Did she want to? Hell, yes. She also wanted to get completely naked with him. Too bad what he offered didn’t sound close to an invitation to seduction. She’d shut him down that morning when he wanted to bring up last night, but maybe that was a mistake.

  “Um, yeah. Sounds okay.” Right. Couldn’t let him know her hormones were jumping up and down. She could wait and read whatever signals he sent out.

  “So how about if I pick up some Chinese on the way home and maybe some dessert?”

  Now she turned to look at him. She had to see the expression on his face, but it was carefully blank. But the blatant heat in his eyes nearly ate her alive. Allrighty, then! The muscles in her pussy gave a hopeful flutter and her mouth suddenly went dry. She cleared her throat.

  “That would be very nice. Thank you.” Orange juice in hand, she eased out of the kitchen.

  “See you around six,” he called after her.

  Her nasty voice, the one she’d been listening to for so many years, wanted to ask him if the afternoon would give him enough time. But he was being so nice she pressed her lips tightly together to keep from saying anything. At least until she knew what his game was. Because this Joe Reilly was nothing like the one she’d always known. She wondered just how much of it was an act.

  * * * *

  “Shay?” He called out her name as he carried his packages into the kitchen. “I brought goodies.”

  Silence greeted him and his stomach dropped as he realized she might have gone out. Maybe she’d had second thoughts, regretted last night, and planned to just avoid him until he left town. Then the sound of a door opening broke into his consciousness. Yes! She was here. In a minute the delicious scent of whatever soap she used tickled his nostrils and he sensed her behind him in the kitchen.

  “Goodies? Besides the Chinese food?” She pounced on the bakery box on the counter. “Ohmigod! Is this what I think it is? Snickerdoodles?” She started to untie the ribbon.

  “Uh-uh-uh.” Joe playfully slapped at her hand. “No dessert until you eat your dinner.”

  “Then let’s get to it.” She pulled the big brown paper sack toward her and began removing the cartons of takeout. “What did you get?”

  Joe was relieved to hear the casual, almost playful tone in her voice. She’d either decided to pretend last night never happened—bad—or was hopeful it would happen again. That was good, right? Right? He voted for option two.

  When he turned to look at her he almost swallowed his tongue. Her hair, the color of corn silk, fell softly to her shoulders, framing her face. He wanted to fist his hands in it, let it sift through his fingers. White shorts cupped her sweet ass and she’d paired them with a T-shirt, the soft fabric the same deep blue as her eyes and draped gently over her breasts. Oh, God, were her nipples actually visible through the material? No makeup except some pink gloss slicked over her lips, but as far as Joe was concerned, she didn’t need anything else. Didn’t those lips just beg to be kissed? He had to stop himself from licking his own.

  Shit. Kill me now.

  He was in such big fucking trouble here. How the hell was he supposed to take things slow? How could he make time to establish a new relationship with this woman—and she most definitely was a woman, not a little girl—when just looking at her made him hot as a pistol and harder than steel?

  Suck it up, he told himself and grabbed two of the cartons from her. He was anxious to have something to do with his hands before he put them all over her.

  “Here, I’ll do that. Why don’t you get the plates and silverware?”

  “What’s in this other bag?” She unrolled the flap on a white paper sack. “Ice cream?” She squealed like the little kid he remembered. “Cookies and cream. Yum, yum, yum.”

  He took the sack away from her and shoved it in the freezer. “Like I said, dinner first. This is to ease the pain while I bore you with a bunch of football crap later.”

  She cocked her eyebrow, giving him a quizzical look. “Boring? Football? You must have me confused with someone else.”

  “Okay.” He chuckled. “It’s just not Joe Montana football.”

  “I’ll suffer through it.” She turned away from him and busied herself with plates and silverware. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starved.”

  Joe made sure to sit across from Shay at the table, not next to her. He needed to avoid touching her as much as possible. Put distance between them until he could figure this thing out. As it was, it took every bit of the discipline he’d learned playing football to look away from the way her T-shirt fabric caressed her breasts, the outline of her nipples visible beneath the soft material. His blood pulsed heavily through his veins, pressure building in his cock. He hoped if Shay noticed him drooling she’d think it was for the Chinese food. He gave thanks the table hid his ranging hard-on, which apparently appeared now whenever he was in her presence.

  Conversation. They needed conversation. Anything to distract his body and his little head, which seemed to think it was in charge.

  “Sorry New York turned out to be a bust for you.”

  Shay speared a piece of orange chicken, popped it into her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. When she licked a drop of sauce from her lower lip Joe was afraid he’d combust right there at the table. The look she gave him reminded him they’d had this discussion before but he was desperate for a safe conversational topic. Anything that dropped a virtual ice cube in his pants and cooled him off.

  “It was okay for a while. I had the big-city adventure and scored a fabulous job.” She shrugged. “The bloom just wore off quickly. Besides, I’m a Texas girl through and through.” Her voice was flat and uninflected.

  Joe would give a lot to know what was really behind her decision to move back.

  “So, no hot guys?” he teased. “No broken hearts left behind when you came home?” He made his voice as casual as possible.

  Another bite of chicken. More chewing. Joe tried not to focus on the smooth play of muscles in her neck as she swallowed.

  “None that you’d find interesting. They were all too sharp-edged. Too high energy, I guess. Too—” She waved her fingers in the air. “Too New York.”

  Joe sensed an intense story behind her casual comments, but she sure wasn’t going to open up to him tonight over takeout.

  “Besides,” she went on, “I get my fix of sidewalk hot-dog vendors and pizza by the slice when I go back for a few days of meetings.”

  He frowned. “And that’s what New York is to you, hot dogs and pizza?”

  She laughed, the now familiar musical sound that cut right into him. “I guess. Apparently I’m just not a city-slicker girl at heart. What about you? You like it? You’re living in Los Angeles now, right?”

  “Actually I don’t live there anymore.” He scooped more fried rice onto his plate. “Too metrosexual for me. I guess I don’t like the city any better than you do.”

  “So where are you living now?”

  Hadn’t Hank told her? Exactly what information had her brother given her about him? More than that, did she even ask or show interest?

  “Houston. Fox Sports has facilities there as well. And I like it much better than the West Coast.”

  “But you flew in yesterday from New York,” she reminded him.

  “Meetings on one of my endorsement contracts with a company rep and my agent.”

  She studied his face, her eyes serious. “Forgive me if I’m stepping into forbidden territory, but does it bother you? Not being able to play again?”

  Joe thought he’d gotten past those feelings pretty well until the little taste of bitterness surged in his throat. “I think I’ll always miss playing, but I’m lucky. My agent hooked me up with a terrific television contract and my bosses seem to be happy with me. We’re going into our fifth year and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight.”

  “Unique name, Inside the Helmet. Good show, too.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “You watch it?”

  She flipped a hand casual
ly. “When I get a chance.”

  Alright! She watched his program. He gave a mental fist pump.

  “Well, let’s clear this stuff away and you can help me watch some video for the earliest fall shows.”

  “Me? Help you?” She laughed. “I don’t think anyone knows more about what’s in a quarterback’s head than you do, Mr. Hotshot Quarterback Joe Reilly.” The smile left her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease—”

  “It’s okay. I’m past it.” Mostly. “Let’s do this.”

  “What about dessert? I want my ice cream and cookies.”

  “After the first video. A reward for your help.”

  In the living room, Joe pulled a disk from his briefcase and slipped it into the DVD player. He picked up the remote, careful to take the recliner and leave the couch to Shay.

  “So what’s up first?” she asked.

  “The young quarterback for the San Antonio Mustangs, as a matter of fact. I’ll be doing a piece on him before the first preseason game. Maybe even analyzing their entire quarterback situation. We’ll see. I have some background work to do, but first I want to watch the kid in action.”

  “Is he any good?”

  He shrugged. “You tell me. Let’s give him a look.”

  He was so conscious of her his skin felt as if he’d sandpapered it. He wondered if she felt the sexual tension as much as he did. He wanted her with an intensity that stunned him. He couldn’t just sweep the remnants of dinner aside, though, and jump her bones, much as he might want to. He had to move slowly. He could not afford to give her the idea this was some casual hookup, like the ones she seemed to think he enjoyed on a regular basis. Somehow he had to dredge up every bit of discipline he’d spent a lifetime learning and keep a lid on things until the right moment. The next time it would be a lot more than a grope session.

  Managing to do it was going to be easier said than done.

  * * * *

  Shay studied the man standing in front of the television. It was hard to wipe away the image of him naked from the shower, the one from yesterday that was etched in her mind with acid. He still had the toned athlete’s body only now it belonged to a mature man. She wanted to see it again, without any of those clothes concealing it. Run her hands over his muscles and squeeze his very fine butt.

  After last night, just being in the same room with Joe made her pussy throb and her blood heat. She didn’t know about him but for her it had occupied nearly every waking moment during the day. He sure didn’t seem like he was going to make another move on her. If she had half a brain, she’d take her dessert and hide in the bedroom. Wait! Wasn’t that what she’d been doing this morning before she finally snuck out to the kitchen?

  Okay, no more hiding, not if she really wanted sex with Joe Reilly. Real sex. She wished she knew if he was being so nice to her because she was Hank’s sister, because he was afraid he’d pissed her off last night or because he wanted more with her. He’d brought her ice cream and her favorite cookies and asked her to watch the videos with him. Exactly what did that mean?

  She tried not to look at him stretched out in the big chair, his masculine sexiness like an aura clinging to him. He still wore the clothes from the afternoon, the khakis outlining the lean length of his legs, the dark green of the soft-collared shirt stretched across wide shoulders and a muscular chest. Her palms itched to touch him again, feel that soft chest hair scattered over hard chest muscle. God, she wanted him more than a snickerdoodle.

  She was so lost in her imagination the sound of his voice startled her.

  “Shay? You with me?”

  “What?” She blinked. “Sure. Sorry.” She tried hard to focus. The last thing she needed was for Joe to catch her salivating over him.

  “I’d like to hear more about your take on this kid. You’ve got a sharp eye.”

  “Um, okay.” Damn straight she had a good eye for players’ strengths and weaknesses. She’d studied them all these years. She took in a breath. “Sure. Be happy to.”

  Joe pressed Play on the remote. “He declared for the draft in his sophomore year and pretty much rode the bench as a rookie. I saw him in training camp last year when he was still a raw recruit. The coach says he’s come a long way since then. Watch his two-step dropback when he gets ready to throw.”

  Shay curled her legs beneath her and forced herself to concentrate on the screen. The young quarterback actually had good moves, a good rhythm. In some ways, he reminded her of Joe in his college days. The lithe athleticism on the verge of maturity. She watched Joe making notes in his iPad as the video unfolded, then eject the disk when it came to the end.

  “I wanted to be able to study him before I meet with him,” he told Shay. “Like I said, the Mustangs have great hopes for him and my producer wants to lead off the show this season with his interview. What did you think?”

  “Good footwork,” she told him. “Good timing. He shows a lot of promise.” She grinned. “Like a young Joe Montana.”

  “Yeah? Well, maybe Montana can show up and get you some ice cream.”

  “No, hey.” She jumped up from the couch. “You can’t get out of this. I want my treats.”

  “Do you now.” He winked at her. “Ask nicely.”

  She wrinkled her forehead in a mock scowl. “Give me my ice cream and cookies, or I’ll have to hurt you.”

  Joe threw back his head and laughed. “If that’s nicely, I don’t want to be around when you’re ticked off. Come on. We’ll dish it up. I have more video to watch.”

  Shay followed him into the kitchen, her body heated just from their close proximity. How on Earth had she allowed herself to agree to this “friendly” evening? She was torn between wanting a repeat of last night—no, more than last night—and wanting to hide until Joe finally left the house and the city.

  Sighing, she plated the cookies while Joe dished up the ice cream and they carried their food back into the living room. She set the cookies on the coffee table and picked one up. Biting into it, she hummed with pleasure as the sugary flavor exploded in her mouth.

  “Shay?” Joe’s voice broke into her thoughts. “You okay?”

  She drew in a breath. “Just enjoying my treat. Mmm. This is yummy good.”

  “They always were your favorite.”

  “I can’t believe you remembered.”

  “It’s hard to forget,” he told her. “I don’t think there was ever a time I was at your house you weren’t eating those cookies or begging for them.”

  He remembered? The thought gave her a warm feeling. Of course, then she’d just been Hank Beckham’s little sister. But now? Had last night changed how he looked at her?

  Drive yourself nuts, why don’t you, Shay?

  “Well.” She licked her fingers. “Thank you for remembering. And for getting them today, although it wasn’t necessary.”

  He looked at her as if about to say something then shook his head. After sliding in a new disk, he hit Play again.

  It took every bit of Shay’s willpower to sit there quietly watching game video and discussing the details with Joe. What was going on here? Were they just going to keep pretending last night hadn’t happened? She was ready if he ever made another move, but she was pretty sure she couldn’t make the first one herself. Staying in the house with him under these circumstances was going to be a strain on her self-discipline. Maybe she could bunk with a girlfriend until Joe left. Her problem was her few friends from the past years were in New York, people she’d chosen now to disconnect herself from.

  She hadn’t exactly made time since she moved back to reconnect with anyone. In fact, it depressed her to realize how much time had passed since she saw or spoke to any of the people she used to hang out with from Granite Falls. She’d left home for college and apparently left them behind, too. Why? Was she just so focused on herself, on getting away from Granite Falls, she wanted nothing to do with them?

  No help there. If anyone was going to leave, it would have to be Joe, and that didn�
�t look like it was going to happen.

  Argh! She wanted to pull her hair.

  Damn Hank, anyway.

  “Shay?” Joe’s deep voice cut into her thoughts. “Are you with me? I just asked you a question.”

  “What?” Oh, great. Her mind had been wandering again. He probably thought she was bored to death. She set her ice cream dish on the table. “Oh, yes. Sorry. I thought the guy was terrific. Great hands.”

  Joe’s deep laugh rumbled in the air again. “Nice try. That was ten minutes ago. Here. Let me have your ice cream before it turns into soup.”

  “No, no, no.” She gripped the bowl. “I was paying attention. Truly. And I want my ice cream.”

  “Then let me get you some that isn’t melted.”

  He stood up and reached to take the bowl from her. When his fingers touched hers, she nearly dropped the bowl. The color of his eyes darkened now to polished onyx, the savage heat so incendiary it could have singed off a complete layer of her skin. They stood there, frozen, staring at each other. A muscle twitched in his jaw and electricity jolted through her to her breasts and her pussy. Her hands shook.

  Lordy!

  Joe opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, then practically grabbed the bowl from her.

  “I’ll get us some fresh ice cream.” He looked over at the plate, a corner of his mouth turning up in a crooked grin. “I see you did a number on the cookies. I guess we need to put out the rest of them. Then I’ll pop in another video.”

  Ice cream. Cookies. Video.

  Okay. She made herself move, one foot in front of the other as she walked toward the kitchen. Was he playing some kind of game? One minute he looked like he wanted to lick every inch of her naked body. The next he was treating her as if nothing had happened between them. And damn it! Something had happened. Now that she’d decided she wanted it to happen again she was having trouble waiting for him to make the next move.