Before We Kiss

by Susan Mallery

  Beyond that was a formal dining room. There were two spare bedrooms with an adjoining bath at one end of the house. The master was probably at the other.

  The colors were all muted guy-tones. Beige, sage, taupe. She assumed he’d employed a professional decorator. Minimal artwork covered the walls. It was mostly abstracts or landscapes. Chosen more for the decorative value than because he liked it, she would guess.

  “Where are you?” she asked when they returned to the great room.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Should I state the obvious and point out I’m right here?”

  She smiled. “I meant, where are you in this house? It’s great and beautifully decorated. But it’s not you. The muted colors are very neutral. That’s you on the surface, but underneath, you have a lot of passion. Where are the bold touches? The whimsy only you would see.” She put her hands on her hips. “Wait a minute. You’re some famous football guy.”

  He winced. “Famous football guy? Is that how you think of me?”

  She laughed. “You know what I mean. You have to have stuff. Where is it?”

  He didn’t answer right away. She wondered if he was going to try to deflect her. And if he did, should she let him? But then he took her hand in his and led her toward the other end of the house.

  He dropped her bag outside a partially closed door, then motioned for her to lead the way. She pushed the door open as she entered and found herself in what she would guess was the heart of the house.

  The room was huge. Probably the result of two bedrooms being combined. There were bookshelves all along one wall. But instead of books, the shelves were crowded with awards. Statues and plaques, glass swirls and silver bowls. There were dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.

  Black leather chairs—big and comfortable looking—faced a huge flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. The wall opposite the bookcases had been painted a dark crimson. Framed L.A. Stallions posters showed Sam, Jack and Kenny in action. Below was a built-in cabinet that went the length of the wall. Complicated-looking equipment gleamed. Remote controls sat in a basket. There was a refrigerator, a small microwave and wine cellar.

  All the comforts of home, she thought, knowing this was where Sam allowed himself to relax.

  She studied the posters of him, passing over the ones of his friends. There were three—two of him kicking and one of him right after the kick had scored. When his teammates had carried him on their shoulders.

  “Which game?” she asked.

  “Super Bowl.”

  Right. Because Sam had kicked a field goal in the final seconds—winning the game for his team. A fact she had known but never really internalized.

  “That must have been something.”

  “We’d worked hard to get to that game. Everyone played well. I was fortunate to be able to add the final points.”

  Which all sounded like an ESPN sound bite.

  “It must have been a lot of pressure. Don’t a couple of billion people watch the game every year?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  She walked to him and grabbed him by his shirtfront. “Sam, come on. That was a huge moment. You won the Super Bowl. You didn’t throw to someone, or catch a ball someone else had thrown. You did it yourself. You and the goal and the ball. You did it.”

  His mouth twitched at the corners. “There’s no I in team.”

  “How many clichés do you have?”

  “How much time you got?”

  She dropped her hands to her sides. “Just tell me it was cool.”

  “It was.” His mouth curved again and this time he smiled. “It was better than cool. It was like swallowing lightning.”

  “Best night of your life?”

  Some of his humor faded. “So far. I was hoping it would be overshadowed by having a kid, but until then, yes.”

  “Don’t you get a ring?”

  “We do. Want to see it?”

  She nodded.

  He walked over to the bookcase. As he approached it, she saw a center display. A ring sat in the middle of an acrylic or glass case. A huge ring with the L.A. Stallions logo and plenty of diamonds. Bold letters announced World Champions.

  He opened a drawer underneath and pushed several buttons on a pad. There was a faint click as something unlocked, then he pulled out the ring and handed it to her.

  She took it and studied the design. “I’ve never seen you wear it.”

  “Look at it. This isn’t the kind of ring you wear every day.”

  “I suppose it would get in the way.”

  The ring was heavy and attention-grabbing. She slid it on her middle finger. It was impossibly huge.

  “Still,” she said, handing it back to him. “Very cool. What a moment. You’ll always have that, no matter what. You have to be proud of that.”

  He put the ring away. “I am proud. But what feels like the bigger feat is having a life after football. Not all the guys figure that out.”

  She moved toward him. He opened his arms and drew her close. “You’re the kind of person who will always be successful,” she told him. “You would insist on it.”

  “You’re giving me too much credit.”

  She stared into his dark eyes and let her emotions flood her. Love, she thought. So much love. “Not possible,” she whispered, right before he kissed her.

  His mouth settled on hers. Familiar wanting grew. She wanted to be with him tonight, she thought. For all the other nights to come. She wanted it all. But what about Sam? Could she convince him they were worth taking a chance on?

  Questions for another time, she told herself, surrendering to the passion. She would come up with a plan. She would be brave, because they were worth it. But later. Tonight there was only the man and how they made each other feel.

  * * *

  SAM KNEW RIGHT away something was up. While he and Larissa got along, she didn’t generally hang out in his office. Plus, there was something worried in her eyes and she couldn’t stop smoothing her long ponytail.

  “Just say it,” he told her, knowing if she expected his help with one of her weird-ass rescues, he was going to send her to Jack. No way he was getting involved with some three-legged tiger or Thanksgiving turkey breakout. Larissa was great and he liked her a lot. Her massages kept him functional. But when it came to seeing the world as one giant need, she was the queen and he wanted no part of that kingdom.

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Then let me help. No, you can’t put an ant farm in my living room, or a pig in my garden or whatever it is you want to do.”

  That earned him a smile. “You’re so mean,” she told him.

  “Not mean. Firm. Unlike Jack, who lets you walk all over him.”

  “No. That’s not fair. Jack supports my causes.”

  Because Jack liked Larissa. And because he had a guilt complex, Sam thought. He was forever trying to make up for something that wasn’t his fault. With Larissa as his front, he could convince the world he was giving back. The problem was he never felt it himself, so the guilt didn’t go away.

  Sam frowned. He was way too insightful this morning. It wasn’t like him.

  Sam returned his attention to the woman fidgeting in front of him. “I have a phone call in ten minutes.”

  Larissa bit her lower lip. “Okay, but don’t shoot the messenger. Simone’s here.”

  Sam’s mind shut down. One second there was thought, then there was nothing. It took several seconds for his brain to begin rebooting.

  “Here, as in...”

  “In the foyer. Right now.”

  He was on his feet and moving before Larissa finished speaking. He sprinted down the hall, then consciously slowed as he rounded the corner.

  Larissa had been telling the truth. His ex-wife stood
looking at her cell phone, impatience pulling at every line in her body.

  Sam came to a stop. She was older, but he couldn’t see evidence of that on her face. She was still beautiful, still sexually appealing. She was five years older than him. Back when they’d met he’d been a relatively innocent twenty-two-year-old and she’d been far more experienced. Looking back he could see their courtship for what it was—a planned seduction with a specific outcome. But at the time, he’d been blown away by what he’d assumed was the woman of his dreams.

  She was tall and thin. Large breasted. While they’d been married she replaced the implants she had with bigger ones. She’d also had her nose done. She was a blue-eyed blonde. Sassy, irreverent and, at her core, ruthlessly selfish. It had taken him five long years to figure out theirs wasn’t a marriage. It was a platform from which Simone planned to launch the rest of her life. He’d been expecting love and a fifty-year marriage. She’d wanted exposure and a hook. In the end, she’d been the one to get what she wanted.

  “Hello, Simone.”

  She glanced up at him and smiled. It was the same smile that had first caught his attention twelve years ago. Bright, perfect, welcoming. He’d been drawn in then. Intrigued. In a sea of groupies, she’d been a real woman with something to offer.

  “Sam.” She dropped her phone into her purse and walked toward him. “It’s great to see you. You still look amazing.”

  She stopped in front of him and put her hand on his forearm before leaning in for a kiss. He let her, mostly out of curiosity. Her mouth brushed his and he felt nothing. Not revulsion, not anger. Just nothing.

  Exactly what he’d wanted but it was nice to be sure. Their marriage had ended badly. But that had been a long time ago. Any feelings had long since died. Which made her return so interesting.

  Before he could ask her what she wanted, he heard footsteps in the hall. Kenny, Jack and Taryn burst into the foyer and approached. Sam grinned as he saw them. They all looked pissed and protective. While he didn’t need any help, it was nice to know they were there for him.

  “Simone,” Taryn said. “You’re looking...older.”

  Simone stiffened. “I see you’re still a bitch, Taryn.”

  “Yes, I am. I’m really glad you remember. Why are you here?”

  Jack and Kenny flanked Sam. They were impressive but they would leave the talking to Taryn, Sam thought. Because neither of them had been raised to take on a woman. Still, there was strength in numbers.

  “I want to talk to Sam,” Simone said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  Sam stepped between them. “Thank you,” he said. “But I’ve got this.” He motioned for Simone to follow him. His friends followed, stopping only when he and his ex entered his office.

  Sam waited until she’d seated herself on the sofa in the corner. He took a chair opposite.

  “This is nice,” she began, glancing around the office.

  “Don’t bother with small talk,” he told her. “Get to the point.”

  She leaned toward him. “Oh, Sam, there was a time when you were thrilled to have me talk about anything. You loved the sound of my voice.”

  She’d had more work done, he thought as he studied her perfect face. Her blond hair tumbled perfectly over her shoulders. Her jeans clung to slender thighs. He remembered how his hands had shaken the first time he’d undressed her and how expertly she’d faked her orgasms. He’d only found about the latter when he’d read her book. A how-to self-help bestseller on landing a professional athlete as a husband. Making him feel like he was a god in bed was her number-one tip. He still remembered most of the passage.

  Don’t worry if he can’t get you off. This isn’t about you—this is about making him feel that he’s the king of the world. Get a decent vibrator and take care of yourself later. You’re not in the relationship for sex. You’re in it for the goal. Learn to fake it convincingly and you’ll solve a lot of problems.

  She’d detailed all the ways she’d faked it with Sam. And there had been many. The irony being how she’d apparently told his mother she missed him in bed.

  “Sam?” she asked. “Are you listening to me?”

  “No. Why are you here, Simone?”

  She turned on the smile. “My publisher wants to reissue my book. A 2.0 version, if you will. I want to add some new material. I thought I could interview you, talk to your friends. That sort of thing.”

  Incredible. And yet not the least bit surprising.

  “No.”

  She pouted. “Oh, Sam. Don’t be like that. Why won’t you help me?”

  “Because your book violates every reasonable assumption of privacy a person can have in a marriage. You lay it all bare.”

  “It’s a self-help book. I have to be honest so people believe me.”

  “When were you honest in our marriage?”

  She sighed. “I should have known you would be difficult. I was hoping you’d changed in the past few years, but I guess that’s too much to hope for.”

  “It is.” He rose. “You need to leave.”

  She stood and moved toward him. “I can get what I want without your help.”

  “Then good luck with that.”

  Her pretty face hardened as she glared at him. “You were never there for me. Not once.”

  “Goodbye, Simone.”

  She stalked out of his office. He heard Jack in the hallway and knew his friend was escorting her out of the building.

  Sam crossed to his desk and sat down, but he didn’t return to work. Simone wasn’t the type to give up easily. He had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to like the rest of her plan.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “WHEN DID YOU start throwing like a girl?” Justice called.

  Ford glowered at the other man. “What did you say?”

  Justice chuckled. “You heard me.”

  Sam used their momentary distraction to steal the ball. He bounced it once, twice, then jumped up and tossed it in for a clean basket. Kenny ran by and they exchanged a high five. From the sidelines came a shrill whistle. Eddie or Gladys was showing her approval.

  The morning basketball game had become a fixture in all their days. Three times a week a group of them played hoops for an hour. It was a great workout and more fun than the treadmill. The small audience of two octogenarians was disconcerting, but the guys had all gotten used to them.

  Justice took the ball out, passed it to Jack and the game was on again. It ended forty minutes later. Sam’s team won by four points, something he would be mentioning most of the day. He shook hands with the other guys and reached for a towel from the stack Larissa dropped off every game day. His gaze caught unexpected movement. He turned and saw Simone sitting on the bench next to Gladys. She had a tape recorder in one hand and was nodding eagerly at whatever the old woman was saying.

  Sam swore. If she couldn’t get what she wanted directly, she would go around him. He wasn’t surprised.

  “Want me to take care of this?” Kenny asked.

  “You gonna take on the old ladies, too?” Sam asked, then shook his head. “Leave it. She’ll do whatever she’ll do and I’ll deal.”

  Kenny patted his shoulder. “It’s hell to have an ex.”

  “You know it.”

  * * *

  CLOSE TO ONE that afternoon, Sam headed for city hall. The mayor had asked him to join the business economic development council. He’d resisted, she’d insisted and here he was—going to his first meeting. He’d given himself extra time for the walk. He wanted to stop by Brew-haha and get a coffee. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the most interesting meeting he’d attended this week.

  But even as he mentally complained, he found himself looking forward to finding out what they had in mind. There were a lot of ways a community could s
upport local business. Score’s customer base was outside of the area, but most of the other companies were tied to the geography. He figured they could learn from one another.

  He stood at the corner, across from Brew-haha. As he waited for the light to change, he looked in the windows of the coffee place. Most of the chairs were filled and there was a line. Some of the—

  He retraced his visual steps and saw Simone sitting at a table with Dellina. Dellina spoke and Simone laughed. He saw the tape recorder between them.

  Something hot and sharp hit him in the gut. Betrayal, he supposed. Given the circumstances, he almost couldn’t blame Dellina. Simone could be charming when she wanted and there was no way Dellina would guess what she really was. But she had to know how he would feel about her talking about him. About them.

  The light changed, but Sam ignored it. He turned and walked back the way he’d come. There was more than one way to get to city hall.

  * * *

  “I’M PRETTY SURE I did this right,” Dellina said as she pulled folders out of her tote. “I followed your instructions, which I know will make you happy.”

  She paused, waiting for Sam to make a comment. But although he nodded, he didn’t seem that engaged in their conversation. He almost seemed...remote. As if he were holding himself apart, somehow. Which was really strange.

  She’d brought the final invoice to the Score offices, as he’d requested. She’d also dragged along all the supporting invoices so they could go over them together. Now that she understood what she’d been doing wrong, she was pretty sure she could get the numbers to do their thing, but she appreciated Sam looking everything over for her—just in case.

  Still, something wasn’t right, she thought. She abandoned her tote and sat on the chair opposite his.

  “Sam? What’s going on?”

  He looked at her. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not yourself. Is something wrong? Or is this a bad time? We can reschedule the meeting.”

  His dark gaze was steady as he studied her face. While she had no idea of the topic, she could practically see the wheels turning in his brain.