The Sport of Romance: A Multi-Author Box Set

by Cari Quinn

  During his surgery, she’d seen his shoulder flayed wide, completely exposed. He would never allow her to see his heart the same way. She’d gotten way too close in their time together.

  “Great workout, man.” Jeff slapped him on his good shoulder.

  “Thanks. I’m gonna hang out here for a little bit.”

  Jeff nodded, his shaggy blond hair falling into his face. “Don’t do anything more than the range of motion exercises. You don’t want to screw up all the progress you’ve made.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll behave myself.”

  Another bob of the head and Jeff left.

  Still sitting on the device of torture, X decided he needed a change of scenery. He hopped off the bench and went over to the massage table. He wore only his shorts and shoes, but didn’t let his lack of clothes stop him. Within seconds he lay on the table, his face resting in the hole. He’d never been much for sleeping on his stomach, because it inhibited his ability to breathe. Maybe he’d have to buy one of these tables for the times he needed a new sleeping position.

  The gentle pressure caused every inch of him to go rigid. His eyes flipped open, cracking his lids wide. His entire body buzzed liked he’d gotten real tight with a set of jumper cables.

  The touching continued with circles over his shoulder, kneading the muscles, her knuckles and fingertips on his bare skin stroking, caressing…

  Oh, man! The sensations were too much.

  “Don’t touch me!” He leapt off the table. He grabbed for a towel and bunched it in front of his crotch. He stared into her shell-shocked face, her wide, startled eyes, her quivering lip as she sucked it between her teeth. Time froze. They simply stared at each other. He wasn’t sure she breathed. He knew he didn’t, but for a very different reason. “Don’t ever touch me.”

  “I’m sorry.” The first tear slipped down her cheek as she turned on her heel and all but ran out the door. And out of his life.

  It’d only been a matter of time before she left him.

  The clock had finally run out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Xavier wondered if a guy’s head could really blow up. He wasn’t far from finding out firsthand. His flight left in two hours. The freeway resembled a parking lot. And every time he closed his freakin’ eyes, he saw that enormous tear slide down Frankie’s cheek, slicing a gouge in his heart.

  It’s for the best. Didn’t matter how many times he repeated the mantra, he wasn’t buyin’ the load of horseshit. It hurt like hell.

  How about that? He’d found his heart again. WooHoo. Go him!

  Security was always a bitch, and today it so happened to be a raving one. The lady ahead of him had a baby who’d been roused from a dead-to-the-world sleep, now protesting at the top of its lungs. Xavier wished he could shove his fingers deep into his ears to block out the shrieking.

  Of course the stroller would set off the metal detector. Idiots!

  He shot a glance at his watch. Thirty minutes to get his butt up to the gate. He removed his shoes, let the loafers dangle from his fingers. His bag rested at his feet. He couldn’t bear to shoulder the sucker for more than a few minutes at a time. Habits died hard, and his bag belonged on his right shoulder. It held only the bare bones, but it still weighed too much.

  It took another ten minutes for the geniuses to figure out the baby wasn’t a terror risk and for Xavier to get the all-clear. He slid his feet into his shoes and, holding the handle of his bag, took off on a run.

  He skidded to a stop when he came to his gate. There, at the check-in desk, stood the most beautiful sight. His breath left his lungs in a whoosh and his heart hammered in his chest. Unwilling to make a scene, he stepped into the line and waited his turn.

  Frankie hadn’t seen him and he’d keep it that way. Because she’d just checked in for the same flight he was on didn’t necessarily mean she headed to the same destination.

  Cough-bullshit!-cough

  Okay, he acknowledged that would be the king of all coincidences. She’d showed up. For him. To be with him. To help him. Even after he’d been a complete and total ass to her.

  She was one hell of a woman. Way out of his league.

  After he checked in, he slumped down into the seat next to her in the waiting area. “You came.”

  She turned the page on the magazine she read, shifted in her seat only enough to acknowledge he’d spoken.

  He couldn’t speak any louder than a whisper. “I can’t believe you came.”

  She lowered her magazine in a flurry of frustrated pages. “Of course I came. I told you I would.”

  “But … you came.” Awe. He couldn’t stop looking at the sweep of her jaw, the strand of hair that had escaped the confines of her ponytail. “You came.”

  She twisted completely and narrowed her eyes at him. “We’ve established that.”

  “Why?” The word came out on a breath.

  Her look screamed Duh! She raised one brow, dropped one corner of her mouth. “What do you mean why?”

  “Why are you here?” He shook his head. “Why did you come?”

  “I promised you I’d come.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. The epitome of nonchalance. “I came.”

  * * *

  She’d stewed and worried and reconsidered her decision to accompany Xavier to Boston a dozen times. At least. While she’d waited for him to show up at the gate, she knew she’d made a horrible mistake. He had barely said two words to her since he’d screamed for her not to touch him.

  Maybe she’d overstepped her bounds by placing her hands on him. Oh, who was she kidding? She’d done more than overstepped. She’d hopped, skipped and jumped over the freakin’ boundaries. But he’d looked so good lying on the bed, showing off so much sexy skin, and she’d been unable to resist putting her hands on him.

  His outburst had changed everything for her, however. Christian’s influence, his wisdom in digging the tickets out of the trash after she’d thrown them away, was the only reason she sat next to Xavier on this important journey in his life.

  His quiet question as to why she’d made the trip onto the plane reaffirmed Christian’s insistence. She was exactly where she needed to be. She suspected high school hadn’t been kind to Xavier. She didn’t understand the idiosyncrasies, but knew he needed someone with him who cared about the man he’d become. She cared. A little too much.

  She’d promised herself—and Christian—she’d keep her hands to herself this weekend. She couldn’t afford to have Xavier file a sexual harassment suit against her. It was her job to see to his well-being. This weekend, she’d see to his mental well-being. And she’d packed the resistance band just in case.

  “Why are you smiling?” His hazel eyes narrowed.

  “Oh, am I?” She picked up her magazine and stuck her nose in it. It would be a very long flight.

  It’d been a hell of a long flight. And they hadn’t even left the ground. They’d spent an hour on the tarmac, waiting for mechanics to examine some problem with the engine. They’d just received word said problem was “fixed now” and Xavier and the rest of the passengers had “nothing to worry about”.

  On the contrary, Xavier had a lot to worry about. The majority of it sat to his left with her face still stuck in her damned magazine. The stupid perfume samples stung his nose and turned his stomach. He snorted to clear out his sinuses.

  “Is there a problem?” She turned a page in her magazine.

  The plane lifted into the air and irritation simmered just under his calm exterior. But only barely. He wanted to rip that magazine out of her hands, crumple it into a ball, and chuck it across the entire fuselage. If it wouldn’t make him a candidate for a body cavity search from the idiots on the ground, he might have.

  “Hello, Mr. Xavier. Can I get you something to drink?”

  He glanced up into the dark brown eyes of the flight attendant. She put a hand on his armrest, leaning into him. Her blouse dropped open.

  Frankie put a hand on his upper thigh and
stretched across until there was no possible way she could be missed. “I’d love some water.”

  Ms. Cleavage blinked. “Of course. Would you like that in a glass with ice?”

  Frankie smiled, her tone saccharin sweet. “The bottle will be fine. Thanks.”

  When she leaned back to settle into her seat, her hand didn’t accompany her. Heat from her palm seeped through the fabric of his slacks, blazing him, scalding him.

  “Mr. Xavier, what can I get for you?”

  A stiff drink. The whole frickin’ bottle would just about do the trick. Except losing any of his inhibitions anywhere near Frankie was a really, really bad idea.

  “Water for me, too, please.” He flashed a tight smile in the flight attendant’s direction. She nodded then walked away. Frankie removed her hand and used it to open her magazine again. The woman infuriated him! “What was that?”

  Although he’d snapped the question at her, he’d posed it to himself as well. He should have left her safely on the ground with the rest of his problems. Up here, at thirty thousand feet, he was the great Xavier, a guy with no issues, except which woman would be in his bed tonight. He could have had Ms. Cleavage, too. Normally, the idea of a few minutes in her arms would have had him out of his seat for another visit to the mile-high-club. Today, though, with Frankie sitting at his side, the thought made his stomach sick, his chest empty.

  “What was what?” Frankie fluttered her eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent.

  He raised a brow and she laughed, stuffing her magazine into the seatback in front of her. She twisted and folded her arms, coaxing her chest up. She seriously needed a new wardrobe. The one she currently had showed off nothing. He groaned. She snorted and dropped her hands.

  “Really?”

  His head jerked up just in time to catch her exaggerated eyeroll.

  “There’s not much to see there.”

  Yeah, he knew she was a liar on that count. He’d seen the way her scrubs pulled across her chest. Even now, in her mock turtleneck sweater, the fabric stretched very nicely.

  “Do women hit on you all the time?”

  “Yeah.” Why lie?

  Frankie shook her head and frowned. “Do you like it?”

  “Sometimes.” He shrugged. “Depends on what she looks like.” Wow, just call him Prince Charming.

  Another disgusted headshake. “I’m going to cramp your style, aren’t I?”

  “You already did.”

  “Oh.” She angled herself toward the window and stared out into lots of blue sky.

  He leaned into her, bringing his lips to her ear. “And I don’t mind in the least.”

  She jumped and whirled around in her seat. The blue of her eyes put the sky outside the plane to shame. They twinkled and shone as they roamed over his face. He smiled.

  “I wouldn’t have asked you to accompany me if I hadn’t wanted you … with me.” He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her hands were so small, so soft. He’d never get over the softness of her skin. And the scent. It was a one-two punch, and if he ever let himself indulge in it, he’d be lost.

  “Here are your waters.” The bottles fell into Xavier’s unwaiting hands. He fumbled with them, but managed not to embarrass anyone. When he looked up into the woman’s face, she wasn’t looking at him. Her frostbiting focus rested on Frankie.

  Frankie handled the scrutiny like a champ. Her ruby red lips split into a ball-clenching smile. “Thank you.” She put the bottle in the seatback and took Xavier’s hand again. “Where were we, lover?”

  The flight attendant left in a huff and all X could do was stare. At Frankie.

  “Oh, come on. That was fun.”

  Dismissing the woman whose frequent flier list could probably be used to repel from the plane to the ground wasn’t what had him stunned stupid. Hearing Frankie call him her lover had done something funny to his insides. He knew to her it’d been a joke. To him, though…

  “I’m sorry. Call her back up here and I’ll apologize, then you two can go get busy in the bathroom.”

  “I don’t want to get busy in the bathroom.”

  She raised a brow, seeming to detect his lie. Again, it wasn’t what she thought, though.

  “And I don’t want you to apologize to her. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s her. But I doubt we’re gonna get one any time soon.”

  Frankie stretched up to look over the sea of seats then leaned into him and dropped her voice. “You have got to admit the look on her face was priceless.”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  * * *

  Frankie loved Xavier’s laugh. The low rumble shook her insides and made her insides go gooey. She removed the bottle from the seatback and cracked the seal. A tiny part of her wondered if the water was safe to drink.

  Call her a risk-taker.

  She tipped it back and guzzled, touching her fingers to her lips once she’d finished.

  As X’s eyes dropped down to her fingers, her heart thumped and her gut went all wonky. Without thought she dipped her tongue out to wipe away a bit of water and he noticed. The color in his hazel eyes darkened. His lids lowered.

  Whoa!

  He looked at her like that and she forgot her own name. The intense attraction between them sizzled. She knew she played with fire. Her entire body ached and throbbed and needed.

  It took a great deal of effort to force her eyes to blink. The motion broke the spell, at least for her, and she could think again. She couldn’t do this. No matter how badly she wanted to.

  She leaned forward, nearly folding herself in half, and dug through her carry-on bag. She pulled out her e-reader and held it up like a sword. “I thought I’d read for a while.”

  “Sounds good.” He pulled the same fold in half move and dug under his seat, coming up with a tablet.

  She settled in her chair and read, but the sexy fictional hero couldn’t hold a candle to the real-life one sitting next to her. Xavier had flaws. But who didn’t? She sure as hell did. She doubted there was anything that could turn her off when it came to Xavier. She’d seen him at his worst. And they’d made it through still speaking to each other. For the most part. In fact, she kinda liked the idea of their being friends. He’d never take the place of Christian. Nobody could. But Xavier…

  * * *

  Had she just mumbled his name?

  Xavier watched Frankie fade. She probably hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep. Xavier’s first clue had been her drooping eyelids. It wasn’t long before her e-reader tilted. He’d reached out to snatch it before it fell. He shoved it in his bag and settled back in his seat just in time to have Frankie lean her head against his shoulder.

  Surrounded by quiet and her scent, he brushed her hair out of her face and studied every flawless inch. Well, not flawless exactly. She had fine wrinkles around where her dimple appeared. Of course there’d be evidence of her joyful personality. He’d never met a woman who loved to laugh as much as his Frankie.

  His Frankie.

  Wow. Where had that thought come from? Even as his thoughts asked the question, he knew damn well where. He was falling for her. And that was a cliff he wasn’t willing to jump from ever again.

  He was too damned old to recover from that kind of pain. It’d nearly killed him the last time. Twenty-one years ago. Shit. Had it really been that long?

  Frankie mumbled again in her sleep, something about saving horses and riding cowboys. She nestled into his shoulder and he raised the armrest, lifting his arm to snuggle her into his side. He may not want this forever but he would take advantage of the few minutes of having a real woman in his arms.

  He should be angry she’d put them both in this situation, but as he smoothed the hair away from her forehead and replaced it with a gentle press of his lips, he realized he could never hate her.

  And wasn’t that going to be a bitch.

  The plane began its descent and Xavier hated this time with Frankie would come to an end. Sure, they’d have the next thr
ee days, but it wouldn’t be like this. She’d retire to her room. He’d go to his, and he’d never be able to hold her in his arms. Disappointment saddened him, surprised the hell out of him. He allowed himself another heartbeat, tightening tightened his hold on her, sneaking another kiss before rocking her.

  “Frankie, we’re landing.”

  She moaned and pushed against him to upright herself. She rubbed at her eyes. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. I normally can’t relax enough in a plane or a car. Mostly I only can sleep in a bed.”

  He wanted to ask if she slept in Christian’s bed, but didn’t. It wasn’t any of his business. Not now, not ever. He hoped Christian, much as he hated him, was good enough for Frankie. She deserved the very best. Yet another reason Xavier wasn’t the man for her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Today had been the classic comedy of errors. First, the problems with the plane and the delay there. Then Frankie’s luggage had been the very last bag to come down the carousel. Now they were stuck in rush-hour traffic. It’d been a long time since Xavier had experienced that kind of aggravation.

  Other than game days, he picked his commute times, staying late or going in early to avoid the madness. On those days, however, somebody else fought the headache. In another city, they all traveled together—as a team—so the bus driver dealt with tailgaters and all the freakin’ lunatics racing up to slam on their brakes.

  Frankie said nothing from beside him. She’d busted out her e-reader again and seemed oblivious to the insanity roaring around them.

  Xavier shook his watch free of his shirt sleeve and looked at it. Shit. They were late. Not going to be late. They were already late. The reception started two minutes ago. He hated to be late.

  “How much longer?” He leaned forward to ask the driver.

  “Almost there, sir.” He pointed out the windshield. “It’s that building there. See, we’re close.”

  “Oh, it’s beautiful.” So, she was paying attention. Frankie gawked at the scenery. “You really grew up here?”