Illegal Motion: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Donna Kauffman

  “Wise move, considering how little I’ve eaten today,” Willa said, her control ragged. “One little kiss and you think you can start giving orders.” She ignored his sexy grin. “I have to go back in to work for a while tomorrow to catch up on some paperwork before the new training session starts. I really need every minute of sleep I can get. I know we need to talk”—she looked away for a moment, adding quietly—“about a lot of things.” Looking back at him, she said, “But not now. Right now I’m going to bed. Alone.”

  Nick had the grace to look properly chastised at her pointed description of her actual Sunday-morning plans, but only for a moment. “Fine. You get some rest, and I’ll be here at”—he looked at his watch, surprised that the glowing dial showed it was after midnight—“nine.” She glared at him, so he added, “Thirty.” Still glaring. “With breakfast.” Before she strangled him, he clarified, “You need a ride to work, that is, unless you have a tractor or a horse around here. Besides, my recent elevation to knighthood brings with it a certain sense of responsibility.”

  When Willa remained silent, staring at him, he said in a dry tone, “I realize I should leave while most of my body parts are still intact, but I’m a glutton for punishment. Go on and say what’s on your mind. We’ll both sleep better.”

  After a long pause spent fighting the urge to smile back, Willa said simply, “Good night, Mr. Logan.” She unlocked her door and stepped inside, surprised he hadn’t stopped her. Just before she closed the door, she gave in to a wild impulse—a side of her that seemed to appear magically every time she got within a foot of him, and added, “I want to get into the office early. Be here at seven.” She shut the door, then opened it again and said, “Thirty.”

  Nick threw his keys on the foyer table and picked up his portable phone as he limped down the short hallway to the kitchen. He punched in Sky’s number and pulled a cold beer from the fridge. Sky’s groggy voice answered just as he propped his leg on the round pedestal table and pressed the cold beer against his knee.

  “Uhh … hello?”

  “Hey, Sky ol’ buddy, not interrupting anything, am I?” Nick purposely kept his tone light, waiting for Sky to become fully alert before questioning him.

  “At … two in the morning he’s a comedian. Ol’ buddy, my backside,” Sky grumbled. He coughed and cleared his throat. “How’d the date go?”

  Nick had never kept anything from Sky, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that one. “Let’s just say Willa and Eric wouldn’t get good ratings on Love Connection. Did you find anything?” When Willa’s “date” with Eric had gone on and on, Nick had called Sky on his car phone and asked him to go over and check out Willa’s office to see what, if anything, Eric had done while he was in there, and to lock up. Sky’s next words confirmed Nick’s suspicions.

  “You were right, Nick. I don’t know what they’re up to, but I found several of those nice white packages stashed in Willa’s office. Pretty well hidden too.” Sky’s voice was heavy with sarcasm and disappointment. “I guess she really is in this.”

  “No, Sky. She’s not.” Silence reigned for a moment as they both digested Nick’s fervently spoken statement. He knew he’d been wavering in his belief about Willa’s role in the mess, but until this moment he hadn’t realized he’d made up his mind for good.

  “What? Now you think she’s innocent? What happened tonight, anyway?” Sky was clearly confused over his friend’s abrupt about-face.

  “Sky, I’d bet my Super Bowl rings that Eric is using her just like he used me. I don’t know the whole story, but I’m going to see her in the morning and bring all of this out in the open. If I’m right, I’m going to ask her to help us.”

  “Boy, must have been some date,” Sky murmured.

  “Trust me on this one, okay, Sky?”

  “I guess I don’t have to add that I thought she was innocent from the start.”

  Nick cut into Sky’s gloating statement. “What did you do with the packages?”

  “The packages? Oh, I got rid of them.”

  “You what!”

  “Calm down. I replaced them with powdered sugar. I called our man from the gym. He met me and picked them up.”

  “Powdered sugar, huh? I guess all those mystery books I brought in when you were in the hospital paid off.” Nick hadn’t forgotten the injury that had prematurely ended his friend’s pro career—even if he was endlessly thankful that because of his misfortune, Sky had been available to help him out. “I’m still not too sure about Boxleitner.”

  “Nick, you’ve got to learn to trust the system eventually. Box swore he’d hold the stuff until we got some concrete evidence.” Sky waited a beat, then added, “I still didn’t tell him who we suspect, but I’m not so sure that now isn’t the time to fill him in on the whole story.”

  Box was Frank Boxleitner, an old teammate of Sky’s who was now with the DEA. Sky had kept in touch with him over the years and had convinced Nick that he would help him out. Nick had been skeptical, to say the least, his opinion of law enforcement in general not too high. When Box had ascertained that they didn’t have any evidence directly implicating their suspect, he’d politely refrained from joining in the hunt, as his docket was full enough. But he had said that he would be more than glad to help once they had something concrete to go on.

  “Maybe you’re right. I guess I’m a little doubtful about people trusting my word of late. After all, we’re going to claim the most famous pro quarterback in the NFL is a coke addict who framed me to save his job—not exactly the most believable scenario. Just ask the Fairfax police.” Nick twisted the beer open and took a long pull before asking, “Do you think the security monitors at the gym got Eric’s activities on tape? If so, maybe we can bring Box in.”

  “I haven’t watched the tapes yet, but based on where the stuff was stashed, he wouldn’t necessarily have been in the line of the camera. He’s a pretty sneaky bastard, Nick. I hope Willa knows what she’s doing with him.”

  Nick had thought hard about the very same thing on the long drive home earlier that night. He realized now that that was when he’d decided to trust her—when his desire to protect her had outweighed his instinct to protect himself.

  “Any prints on the bags?”

  “Box said he’d check, but not to get our hopes up.”

  “Okay.” Nick tried to keep the impatience out of his voice, but was only marginally successful. “Hey, thanks for helping out tonight. Couldn’t do this without you, buddy.”

  “If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be in some mental ward reliving my pro days.” Sky talked over Nick’s attempt to shrug off the praise. “Yeah, yeah, enough hearts and flowers. Get some sleep. In case you forgot, you’ve got a hot date early tomorrow morning with a beautiful redhead.”

  The incessant buzzing noise finally penetrated Willa’s sleep. Without actually waking, she reached over and whacked the top of her clock radio to silence the annoying electronic alarm.

  “It can’t be morning,” she groaned, and pulled a pillow over her head to block out the faint light that was filtering through her eyelids, proving her wrong. She knew she’d gone to sleep only a few minutes ago. Peering out from under her pillow, she slowly focused on the glowing blue numbers of her clock. Six forty-five!

  In the next instant she shot up in bed, fully awake. Her mind was instantly alert and racing. Nick will be here in less than an hour. Willa threw back the bedspread and sheet and jumped out of bed—immediately grabbing onto the bedpost for support as her head swam. Her mind flashed instantly to the night before; memories of Nick’s remedy for this affliction coming back in startling clarity.

  As if the floodgates had been opened, the rest of the previous evening flowed through her mind, ending with Nick’s breakfast bargain. Me and my big mouth, Willa berated herself silently, wishing she hadn’t stubbornly insisted on an earlier time. She did have a lot of desk work to clear up—but it was her day off and she could get it done anytime. She headed toward the
bathroom, stopping long enough to grab the silk kimono that doubled as her bathrobe from her oak armoire.

  Emerging from her quick shower, she dropped the towel that had protected her hair from the steamy spray and put on the jade print robe. Her stomach loudly announced it was mealtime. Considering her lack of food yesterday and the wine she had for dinner, she was surprised she didn’t have a headache this morning. But it couldn’t hurt to arm herself with a mug of steaming coffee before facing Nick.

  She opened the door leading out to the hallway and was instantly assailed by the delicious aroma of coffee. She wondered if all the fantasizing she’d been doing lately had raised her skills to new heights. No, she hadn’t thought once of having any bacon. Either someone had broken into her house and decided to have a little breakfast before ripping her off, or … Nick was there!

  She glanced back into her bedroom. Her clock read 7:15. The nerve of him, she thought, trying to intimidate her by arriving early! Furious at his pressure tactics, she stormed down the stairs, stomping hard on each plank, wishing it were Nick. Her bare feet didn’t make nearly enough noise, and that made her even angrier.

  She pushed through the swinging doors that led into the kitchen and came to a halt, hands curled into fists on her hips. “Who gave you permission to come into my home? When I told you seven-thirty, I meant it.” She didn’t want to notice how incredibly male he looked. His well-worn jeans pulled tightly across his thighs and the sleeves of his faded blue-and-white T-shirt tugged into snug bands above his well-developed biceps.

  It took several seconds before she noticed the design emblazoned across his shirt. The Jaguars’ logo. Well, she thought, her steam building to the boiling point, if he was trying to add to her guilt by advertising the team he’d been banned from … it was working. Dammit.

  Nick took the opportunity her slight pause gave him. “Good morning, Princess.” Her eyes narrowed at the pet name, but he didn’t mind. She stood there with her hair all wild and fiery, like her temperament. Her stance caused the front of her satiny green robe to gape open slightly, revealing the soft inner curves of her breasts. She was nothing short of magnificent.

  At that moment she could have said anything and he wouldn’t have cared. Because he knew, then and there, that they were destined to be lovers. They had to be.

  Willa swore she could feel his electric-blue gaze consume her. It made her skin sizzle—the sensation dancing across her body like water droplets skittering over a hot griddle. Following his gaze downward, she realized why. Blushing, furious at the rapidly increasing rate he managed to make her do so, she resisted the urge to fold her arms in front of her. Two could play at this game. She purposely let her gaze travel slowly over his body.

  It took only a few seconds to realize that her ploy was backfiring. Her skin hadn’t cooled a bit—in fact, she was certain her entire body had a rosy glow. A glance at Nick’s sparkling eyes told her he was aware of her faulty strategy, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. Judging from his grin, he was loving every minute of it.

  “I did knock,” he said finally, his tone matching his sexy grin. “But you didn’t answer. You know, even way out here, you should be more careful about locking your doors.” He turned back to the stove to tend to whatever was hissing and crackling.

  Over his shoulder he added, his voice the epitome of nonchalance, “As much as I love that robe, if we’re going to get any talking done, you’d better go put some more clothes on.”

  Silence. He turned back around.

  She looked as though she was debating the merits of various methods of murder. Nick decided his best defense was a good offense. His specialty. He let his gaze rest on the enticing area of skin exposed by the parted robe. Smiling wickedly, he tapped the spatula he was holding against his chin as if trying to grasp an elusive thought. His eyes lit up as he hit on it. “I’ve got it. Jasmine, right? Great scent.” He turned back to the stove as her mouth dropped open, and calmly said, “Now hurry, breakfast is almost ready.”

  FIVE

  Willa opened her mouth then snapped it shut, deciding it would be best if she left the room, not caring what he read into her compliance with his arrogant request. The country kitchen she’d always wished was smaller and cozier had suddenly become far too intimate.

  She dressed quickly, reassuring herself that the only reason she hadn’t told Nick to take a hike was because her stomach never would have forgiven her. She immediately recalled exactly what she’d hungered for a few moments ago. Damn his sexy hide, she swore silently, disgusted at her lack of control around him. The picture of sweet charm one minute, then arrogant self-confidence the next. And the total package appealed to her more than she cared to admit. She needed to slow down and figure things out before she went crazy.

  “Breakfast is ready.”

  Nick’s announcement boomed up the stairway, startling Willa. The time had come to tell him her side of it. Her weak plan to draw a confession out of Eric would never work. Had she really thought she could use her feminine wiles to get him to talk? She’d never quite figured what those wiles were, anyway … as Eric had pointed out. She gave a humorless laugh. Playing ball wasn’t the only thing Nick and Eric did well—and when it came to womanly charms, she was definitely in the rank-amateur league.

  Her eyes lit up as she had a sudden idea. She dashed back into her room and dug through the explosion of clothes crammed into her armoire. “Aha!” She pulled on her favorite shirt like a battle shield and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. If she was going to have to play with the big boys, at least she’d have a team shirt on.

  Nick went through the motions of preparing breakfast, his mind still dwelling on Willa in that Oriental robe. It was only the second time he’d seen her in anything other than sweats—and he couldn’t believe the restraint it had taken not to cross the room and convince her to let him touch that creamy skin so erotically wrapped in silk, to taste it.

  Hearing hinges squeak, Nick turned and all thoughts of jade silk and frying bacon took flight. For erotic attire, nothing beat faded black jeans molded to legs that went on forever. So it was understandable that it took a second or two for him to notice the familiar red-and-white shirt she was wearing.

  The last time he’d seen that emblem, the bulges under it had been formed by heavy padding. “The Carolina Rebels!” he shouted. Hostile feelings about his former team’s nemesis were ingrained and hadn’t disappeared simply because he no longer played the game.

  “My favorite team,” Willa answered honestly, pointedly looking at Nick’s shirt.

  Nick grimaced. His innocent choice of apparel must have come off looking like a direct challenge. “How could you be a Rebels fan? Your dad played for the Jaguars.”

  “When Dad was first drafted into the NFL, he played for Carolina.” Nick nodded, familiar with her father’s career. “Well, the Rebels were a new team at the time and not very good.” He smiled in agreement. “I always liked to root for the underdog, and when Dad was traded to the Jaguars a few years later, I was already a diehard fan.”

  “He wasn’t upset when you rooted for the enemy?”

  “Heavens no. He encouraged me to maintain my loyalties. Besides,” she added, smiling broadly as she reminisced, “it was something to argue about. Dad loved a good debate.”

  “I have a feeling that’s an inherited trait.”

  Willa looked at Nick, her eyes shining in agreement before her smile turned wistful. “I haven’t thought about those days, before I went to college …” Before Dad got sick, she thought, looking beyond Nick, into her past.

  “I thought your dad was a great man. At least as far as football was concerned,” Nick commented quietly. The pain that shadowed her eyes for a moment bothered him. He felt bad that what had started as a warm memory for her had somehow turned sad. “You loved him very much.” She didn’t have to answer for Nick to see the depth of feeling she had for her deceased father. It shone in her face and in her eyes. For a blazing instant Nick
knew a deep-seated need, stronger than anything he’d ever felt, to be the recipient of that kind of look. From her.

  A little taken aback by the ferocious wave of desire that engulfed him, Nick frowned and turned back to the counter. In a tone sharper than he intended, he said, “Set the table if you plan on eating this while it’s still warm.”

  Her smile evaporated at his change and sharp words. Had she imagined the scene that had just taken place? It seemed like every time they made a connection of some kind, something happened to break it. But for the life of her, this time she couldn’t guess what it was. She was curious about the almost desperate look that had briefly registered on Nick’s face when he commented on her love for her dad. Maybe I imagined that too.

  Frustrated that she couldn’t be around Nick for ten minutes without losing her temper, she determined to be civil, no matter his mood. “The plates are in the upper left cabinet. I’ll pour the coffee and get the silver.”

  Nick seemed to accept her unspoken request for a truce. He waited until they were seated and eating before he spoke. “I’m sorry I snapped.”

  Willa looked up from her plate and saw that he was sincere. She shrugged, but didn’t chance talking quite yet.

  “If you want to talk about him, I don’t mind. It might help me understand so I don’t inadvertently hurt you in the future.”

  A part of her locked onto the word “future.” “We, that is my dad and I, moved around a lot as he moved around the league. We settled in Virginia just as I started high school and I finally thought I’d found my niche.”

  “And did you?”

  A smile wandered across her face. “No. I grew six inches before my junior year. The only boys taller than me were the guys on the basketball team, and their interest in me was limited to getting me to play b-ball and getting Jaguar’s autographs. When it came to anything social, they chose the petite cheerleader types.”

  “They must have been blind,” Nick muttered. Willa glanced up at him and he nodded for her to go on.