Kissing Madeline (Dearest #3)

by Lex Martin

  “She’s hot, though, right?”

  “Fellas, you’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to not appreciate that girl. Which you should stop doing. Get your eyes off her body, and go find some other unsuspecting soul to eye-fuck.”

  They reluctantly meander away, and I return my attention to Maddie. Her thick black hair cascades down her back, and it’s wavy and a little wild, which has me itching to run my fingers through it.

  Maddie’s like a grown-up version of Snow White. Those wide blue eyes and pale skin kind of do it for me. I’m surrounded day in and day out by life-sized Barbies who would stampede over their mommas for a chance to party here tonight, and there’s something so refreshing about the girl across the room who looks like she could care less that she’s surrounded by a team that almost won the Super Bowl last year.

  And tonight, she’s stunning. A silky wraparound black dress hugs her curves and reveals more than her usual outfits. But it’s those black heels that make me wonder how they would look slung over my shoulders.

  Her coworker, that reporter Nicole, spots me staring and nudges Maddie, who looks up and gives me a reluctant smile. And damn, it’s like seeing the sun rise.

  I take that as my cue and cross the room. “Ladies.”

  “Hey, handsome,” Nicole says, pulling me into a tight hug. Then she whispers in my ear, “You don’t know it yet, but I’m helping you.” Then she kisses my cheek, taking her time.

  Her hands linger on my waist when she pulls away. I’m not sure what to make of this aside from the fact that it’s Friday night, and maybe Nicole wants to cut loose. But when I see the look on Maddie’s face, I think I get what Nicole was trying to do. Because Maddie does not look happy.

  Interesting.

  Because up until tonight, I was almost sure Maddie hated me. Almost.

  But her expression makes me rethink last weekend when she came over for sugar. I had a carload of friends with me, so it wasn’t exactly the best time for her and me to hang out. What would she have said to me had I been alone? Now that I think about it, she did not look excited to see Quentin’s cousin on my arm that night. It was Monica’s birthday, so Q asked me to treat her special. Autograph her Rebels gear. Pay her attention before she hopped a flight the next day. So I talked to her all night and made sure she had fun. I’d do that for any of the players’ friends or family.

  “How are my two favorite reporters?” I ask as I reach over and pull Maddie into a hug. Just to make sure Maddie gets the hint that she’s the one I’d like to investigate, I lift her off her feet until she squeaks.

  I laugh at her little sound, and then she finally relents with a chuckle and wraps her arms around my neck so that she’s totally pressed against me. She melds to my body from tits to hips. Yeah, I could get used to this. And she smells fucking amazing. Intoxicating. Like sweet flowers and honey.

  I place her on her feet, but I have to steady her because she seems a little wobbly.

  Nicole gives me a wink and trots off to get another drink.

  Maddie turns to me, her face flushed, her eyes wide, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss a woman more. Clearing my throat, I thank her for coming.

  She blinks a few times. “No prob. It was a rough commute down the hall, but I managed.” She sounds out of breath, but her eyes sparkle back, and I swear to God, the air sparks with electricity.

  Leaning forward until I know she is the only one privy to what I’m about to say, I whisper, “I missed you yesterday. That interview wasn’t the same.”

  I tilt my head to see her expression, and her eyes widen a fraction more.

  Maddie wasn’t excited to be covering football, but her questions felt right and our vibe worked. Something was off with Nicole. Not for a lack of effort on her part. She did a full-court press, spouting facts and figures I barely know myself. But we had zero chemistry.

  Maddie shrugs, ignoring my obvious attempt to flirt with her. “I’m sure your segment went well. Nicole is a great sports reporter.”

  My eyes pass over her. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  She looks down at the beer she’s clutching. “Nicole made me change. Apparently, she took issue with my Guns n’ Roses t-shirt.”

  “This dress is wicked hot.”

  She laughs nervously. “Wicked, huh?”

  “I am a Boston boy through and through.”

  She nods. “I guess I figured all that fine living up in Lexington might have stripped you of your New England idioms.”

  Hmm. She knows I grew up in Lexington. I shouldn’t be too flattered. She is a reporter after all. But yeah, my ego likes the idea that she’s been thinking about me.

  I nod at her. “Where did you grow up?”

  “Nowhere exciting. Southie.”

  “Really? Where’s your accent?”

  She frowns, and I’m briefly worried I’ve offended her, but then her shoulders tilt back, and I’m struck by the glint in her eyes. “You mean the accent I’m gonna use to teahr your ass apaaahrt?”

  I bark out a laugh. “Yeah. That one.”

  She grins, and my stomach does this weird little backflip. Because her smiles do something crazy to my chest. Like they’re drawing out air I haven’t breathed yet.

  Maddie takes a long pull of her beer, averting her eyes. I love that she drinks beer. Most of the girls here tonight are downing fruity concoctions or wine, but Maddie has a dark lager in hand. I watch her mouth, mesmerized by those full lips. “I’ve worked hard to get rid of that accent. It wasn’t easy. It still slips out once in a while, if I’m really ticked off, but I know I’ll never get a national anchor spot sounding like someone off the set of Good Will Hunting.”

  “That’s a great movie.”

  “The best.”

  I grin. “That scene in the park? Where they fight.”

  She nods. “All in slow motion with that John Rafferty song playing in the background?”

  “That song makes the scene. Or what about in the bar when he tells off that Harvard dickwad?”

  “Or his whole ‘Why shouldn’t I work for the NSA’ speech?”

  We nod in unison. I stare at her too long, and her cheeks flush, which makes me think this party was the best idea I’ve had in a while.

  My mind wanders to my plan to not screw around once the season kicks in. But it’s still preseason, which means maybe there’s still a little time to have some fun. And my idea of fun is standing a foot away.

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later, we’re still talking. I’m trying to use this rare moment to find out everything I can about this girl. She’s usually so closed off. Maybe it’s the beer, but tonight everything about our conversation is easy.

  When I ask about her family, she says her mom took off when she was younger, and her dad raised her. He was a firefighter but passed away. She’s close to her uncle. A nerd to the core, she was on the high school newspaper for four years before attending Boston University.

  We’re discussing college when her eyes get that flinty edge again. “So, you weren’t embarrassed to go to Boston College since, you know, it’s inferior to BU?”

  “No more than you were going to a school that basically accepts any kid off the street.”

  A smile plays on her lips. “Yeah, BU accepts more kids. Not every school can master that Stepford vibe you have going on at BC.”

  “It’s tough, but someone has to do it.” I click my tongue. “But it must be painful to not have a football team. That it sucked so bad, your school dismantled it.”

  “True.” She clutches her chest like she’s rubbing an ache. “But you know what took the edge off? Kicking BC’s ass in hockey last year. And the year before that.” She holds up her beer. “Cheers.”

  I let her have her moment, that smile on her face too cute to diminish.

  She tilts her head, her hair falling over her shoulder. “Have you seen Clementine lately?” Clementine is my ex-girlfriend from high school and one of my best friends from chi
ldhood. We went years without talking because I hurt her when we were dating, but last year we finally made up.

  “Fourth of July. She and her man came to my party.” My eyes travel slowly over Maddie’s face. “See, you should’ve come instead of blowing me off.”

  “I did not blow you off.” But Maddie’s words lack conviction. “Okay, maybe I did blow you off.” Her nose crinkles adorably. “Sorry.”

  “Is there any possibility you might consider blowing me off less?”

  She fights that gorgeous smile. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  “Good, because I don’t know if my ego could stand another rejection.”

  She taps me on the chest with the neck of her beer. “Your ego is coming perilously close to jamming in the doorway when you walk through it. I’m pretty sure I’m in no danger of harming your precious ego.”

  “You’d be surprised. I’m a sensitive guy.” I give her my sincerest look and then bat my eyelashes.

  She stifles a laugh. “I’m sure. You have ‘sensitive guy’ written all over you.”

  “You shouldn’t be so quick to judge. You might hurt my feelings.” Her look of incredulity only encourages me. “I do have a soft side, McDermott. If we hung out more, you’d see it.”

  I bump her shoulder and she laughs, bumping me back. “All right. Maybe.”

  This girl is the one I met last fall. The one who laughs freely. The one whose eyes sparkle. And damn, speaking of eyes, I could stare into her baby blues all day. They remind me of calm ocean waters. Except when I look into hers, I’m not calm. If anything, my heart kicks up a notch when she’s around.

  I should be a good host and circulate among my guests, but I’m not sure if I’ll get another chance to see Maddie any time soon. She might be saying we’ll hang out, but I know we’re both busier than hell.

  Nicole runs up and yanks on Maddie’s arm. “Spencer just called. I need to use your laptop. Production might have messed up one of my segments, and I have to double-check it from my account.”

  “Okay.” Maddie looks at me with a hint of disappointment in her eyes. “I guess we’re calling it a night.”

  “What?” Nicole looks offended. She holds out her hand. “Just give me your keys. I saw your laptop in your bedroom. You stay and I’ll be right back. You live next door, for fuck’s sake. This will take me ten, fifteen minutes tops, and then we can all hang out.” She turns to me and gives me an exaggerated wink, one that has Maddie tensing up again.

  “But you’ll need my password to use my laptop. I… I should come.”

  Nicole sighs again. “Just give me the code.” She waits for Maddie to give her the info, but Maddie purses her lips. “Jesus, Madeline. I’m not going to fuck up your shit. I just need your code for five minutes. Get your fanboy Brad to change your login on Monday if you’re that worried.”

  Maddie blows out a big breath. “Fine. It’s DunkinDonuts411.”

  Nicole nods and runs off. I chuckle, and Maddie’s cheeks turn pink. “Don’t mock my love of coffee. This is serious business.”

  “Oh, I agree, doll face.” She smiles and ducks her head. Is she embarrassed? Too fucking cute. “C’mon. Let’s go shoot some pool.”

  I grab her hand and pull her toward the game room. She tugs me to a stop, and I turn around.

  “Don’t be too quick to think you can get one up on me, Sloan.” She pokes me in the chest and grins. “I’m gonna kick your prep-school ass,” she says, punctuating it with her Southie bravado.

  I lean down until I can feel her breath on my face, and she stills. “I love a good challenge.” I tap her on the nose and her eyes narrow, like she doesn’t know if she wants to shoot me dead or fuck me.

  Oh, yeah. I like riling up this girl.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  - Maddie -

  Daren studies the table, a serious expression tightening his jaw that’s covered in the slightest stubble.

  “Take all the time you need, Daren. I’m still going to win.” It’s probably a toss-up as to who will emerge the victor, but I rather enjoy getting a rise out of him. He’s so damn full of himself. It would be nice to bring him down to Earth.

  He looks at me briefly before that smirk reemerges.

  “Whatever, McDermott. Number four in the corner pocket.” Daren leans over, and I take a long look at that muscular body. His polo stretches across those broad shoulders down to his trim waist. He shifts slightly, and my eyes drop to admire that ass. Wowzers.

  I suck down my beer. I’m not a big drinker, but it’s definitely helping me relax. And I need to relax. Fortunately, I can be completely tipsy and not look it. I have my great Irish genes to thank for that talent. And I’m totally buzzed at the moment. Which works since I live next door and can crawl home later if I have to.

  Buzzed. That’s a funny word, I giggle to myself.

  I’m sure I’ll regret the alcohol tomorrow morning, but I want to chill for five minutes. I don’t remember the last time I went to a party, so I might as well enjoy tonight.

  Truthfully, I’m relieved not to have to do any more sports segments. Okay, yes, I was pissed yesterday afternoon because I had spent so much time prepping for Daren’s interview, but now I’m realizing it was a blessing in disguise.

  And Daren… He’s not so bad. My tummy squirms when I think about how bitchy I was to him before our first interview. But he hasn’t made me feel bad about it. If anything, he’s been super sweet. Adorable, even.

  I never did get a chance to apologize to him for insulting him that day. But maybe I can tonight when there are fewer people around to overhear our conversation.

  The game room is tucked off down the hallway from the living room, and guests filter in and out. This seems to be the one area he really put time into decorating. It’s decked out with a flatscreen, several game consoles, a pool table and a couple of arcade machines. On the opposite side of the room hangs his collegiate BC jersey in a dark frame, and beneath that is his Heisman.

  But I know his achievements, and those two reminders of his accolades barely scratch the surface. When I think about it, he’s actually pretty humble about it all.

  He’s so different from Jacob, who never missed an opportunity to tell you how awesome he was. I used to think that reflected his confidence, but now I know he’s just an arrogant prick. Daren is so much more comfortable in his own skin.

  I keep expecting Daren to run off and circulate with his guests, but he doesn’t. He has girls dropping at his feet like he’s anesthetizing them with his charm, and yet tonight, he’s hanging out with me.

  Look, don’t touch, Maddie. Good-looking guys like him come with a price tag, one you can’t afford.

  I finish my beer, wishing men could be a less painful experience.

  When Daren sinks the ball, he turns to me with a serious expression. “Bite me, McDermott.”

  He crosses his arms in front of his broad chest, making his shirt stretch more, those beckoning hazel eyes full of mischief.

  “Gladly. Where?” Holy shit. Did I just say that?

  A devilish smile ghosts his lips. “Careful, sweetheart. Don’t want you to break off more than you can chew.” Heat pulses in my veins, the ground shifting beneath me. His grin widens as he turns back to the table and takes aim.

  What am I doing? Why am I flirting with Daren? I should go, but I’ve been waiting around for Nicole to return. She’s been gone forever, and I’m about to send out a search party when she texts. I logged off your laptop. Going to see if I can get Quentin naked. Left your keys on Daren’s kitchen counter in the bread basket.

  Jesus. If Nicole thinks it’s a good idea to sleep with the guys she’s covering for her job, she’s an idiot. She would get fired if Roger found out she was sleeping with Quentin. Spencer might not care, but Roger is old school, and he’d never let that slide.

  I shake my head.

  “What?”

  I look up to find Daren studying me. “Nothing.” Holding up my phone, I shrug. “Nicole
left.” I debate what else to say. But it’s not like Nicole is some source I have to protect or even a good friend. “She’s taking off with Quentin.” Giving him a “birthday blow,” according to her message. Then again, she might be lying. I can’t tell with her anymore.

  His eyebrows lift. “Okay then.” He chuckles.

  “I should get going too.”

  Daren’s laughter fades, and he looks like he wants to say something when a few people join us and yank the darts from the board hanging across from the pool table. “Come on, Sloan,” one guy says. “Let’s do teams.” He motions between me and a petite redhead. “If the girls win”—his eyes lewdly roam his date, who giggles—“they get… rubdowns.”

  “Rubdowns?” My eyebrows quirk up. Clearly, we’re talking about more than…

  “Back massages,” Daren says, giving his teammate a pointed look.

  “Fine. Back massages,” he says with air quotes. “And if we win…” The guy hugs his date, letting his hands drop to her ass.

  “Drinks on them next weekend,” Daren says, cutting off his friend before he takes a drink of his beer.

  The guy rolls his eyes and pats Daren hard on the chest, mumbling, “Cock block.”

  * * *

  “Are you sure you don’t want any help?” Daren’s little chuckle irks me. A lot.

  His teammate and that girl ran off a few minutes ago, leaving Daren and me alone in the game room. So we started over, and Daren said the only thing we were playing for was bragging rights because he’d enjoy beating my Southie ass. As if.

  My eyes narrow. “Why do you think I need help?”

  I might be halfway to drunk—okay, more than halfway—but I’m certainly cognizant enough to know that if I win, I want to do it on my own. And would I even be using the word “cognizant” if I were drunk? I think not. I am so not drunk. I am in fine playing shape.

  I tighten my lips to mask my hiccup.

  He’s right behind me, but I won’t face him. No way. He’s trying to get under my skin. Trying to distract me so he can win. And he’s so distracting. He’s been staring at me every time it’s my turn, and I can’t focus.