To Win Her Heart (Players)

by Mackenzie Crowne

  A search of the refrigerator and kitchen pantry proved they wouldn’t starve, and the supplies Kip had mentioned offered her a chance to redeem herself after her disastrous attempt at dinner. The small fire extinguisher hanging on the pantry wall made her smile. After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled it from its brackets and plunked it down smack dead center on the island.

  All volunteer fire department my ass.

  Grinning, she gathered the makings of French toast and arranged a half dozen strips of bacon in a frying pan. The front door opened as she placed the first slice of egg-battered bread on the skillet.

  Hair damp with sweat, Max dropped a small duffle on the steps leading to the next level. “I didn’t expect to see you for a while yet.”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “I was hungry. So much happened last night, I missed dinner.” Subtle lines of returning tension creased his forehead, and she swallowed an inward sigh. A contentious conversation was the last thing she wanted, but this thing with the Krandalls wasn’t going to go away. She wanted it over with so they could concentrate on more important things. Still, she hesitated to bring up the subject. “Where’d you go?”

  He opened the fridge to pull out the orange juice. “To work out in the gym.”

  “Want some breakfast?” She added another slice of bread to the batter.

  He turned and his eyes squinted beneath lowered brows. She followed his gaze to the extinguisher.

  Fluttering her lashes, she offered him a cheeky grin. “Just in case.”

  His tension melted away as one corner of his lips lifted in a sexy, crooked smile. “I could eat.”

  He manned the bacon while she browned a tall stack of French toast. When everything was prepared, they ate at the table overlooking the deck and the views beyond. She delayed the topic of the press conference for the moment with questions about the area. Apparently, there were several ski mountains close by, if she was interested, and plenty of trails for the snow machines in the boathouse. The idea of ice fishing left her cold, but the arcade on the other side of the lake sounded like fun.

  He polished off a half dozen slices of French toast to her two. When he rose to take their empty plates to the sink, she sucked in a fortifying breath and spoke to his back.

  “How did you end up in foster care, Max?”

  If her sudden question surprised him, it didn’t show. He ran the plates under the water before stacking them in the dishwasher, and turned to prop his hips against the counter. He crossed his arms and met her gaze.

  “It’s what happens when a minor is orphaned.” His casual tone didn’t mask the intensity in his eyes.

  She leaned her elbows on the table. “If what that reporter said is true, you weren’t an orphan.”

  “It’s true, but when my mother died, I might as well have been.”

  “I don’t understand. You had a family.”

  The angry blow of his wry snort made her wince. He must have noticed, because his shoulders bunched and he sighed.

  “My father’s parents died a long time ago. Dad had a second cousin I lived with for a while, but she and her husband had four kids of their own and didn’t have the time or patience for an angry punk with an attitude to match. I entered the foster care system at fourteen and spent the next four years moving from place to place.”

  “What about your grandmother?”

  His eyelids lowered, shuttering his eyes, but not before she witnessed the flash of heat in them. “Elizabeth Krandall never approved of my parents’ marriage. She’d cut all ties with my mother long before I was born.”

  Jessi swallowed. As annoying as her family could be at times, they were always supportive and stood together as a solid force when hard times struck. She couldn’t understand a mother turning her back on her own daughter. “Surely the authorities notified her of her daughter’s death.”

  A muscled jumped along his clenched jaw and he nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

  “Did she know about you?”

  Tension vibrated around him like an aura. “If she didn’t before, she did then.”

  “Then what happened? She’s your grandmother. Why wouldn’t the state approach her about taking you?”

  His barked laugh was harsh as he pushed off the counter and snatched up the skillet. “They did. She declined.”

  Jessi swallowed against the ache in her throat as if the cruel fingers of his past were wrapped around her windpipe. What kind of monster denied a little boy a place to live and grow? Denied her own flesh and blood?

  He turned to the sink and snapped on the faucet. Shoulder muscles and back stiff, he dipped his proud head to the task of scrubbing the skillet. Tears stung her eyes as Jessi rose and crossed the room. She stopped behind him and, with her heart breaking for the little boy he’d been, she wrapped her arms around the man.

  He stilled briefly, then shut off the faucet. Wiping his hands on a towel, he turned, forcing her to loosen her hold.

  She didn’t let go, however. Tucked against him, she buried her head in his chest and sniffed against the tears she couldn’t hold back. “She deserves to be whipped.”

  “Hey.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed his palm to her cheek to lift her face. His gaze softened as he studied her eyes. “Don’t.” He lowered his head, and his bristled cheek scraped at her skin where he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Ah, damn, baby. Don’t cry.”

  Her heart swelled at the endearment, and she turned her head until her mouth was beneath his. The rock hard man he’d become may not need to be comforted, but the little boy he’d been deserved so much more than he’d been given.

  Once, twice, then once again, she brushed his lips in whisper-soft kisses as if the gentle caresses could heal the wounds of his past. With a low rumble vibrating in his chest, he accepted her silent offering. He speared his fingers into her hair and cupped the back of her neck. His head dipped and he captured her mouth with his.

  Joy and pleasure gushed through her veins. The delicious heat of his body molded to hers and left her dizzy. She clung to him as he deepened the kiss, opening her mouth to his marauding tongue. He pulled her tighter against him, and his erection pressed against her belly. Bold and demanding, his need called to hers. Curling her fingers into his sweatshirt, she willingly answered. She pressed closer and swirled her tongue around his.

  Chest expanding on a shudder, he released her neck to drop his hand to the curve of her waist. Pleasurable chills pebbled her skin as his warm fingers dipped beneath the hem of her sweater and rode her side to caress her ribs. Anticipation fired her already heated blood. He captured her moan with his mouth, and his hand came unerringly to cup her lace-covered breast.

  With thumb and forefinger, he plucked at the tightened bead of her nipple, peaked with almost unbearable excitement. He shoved a muscled thigh between her legs and a white-hot arrow of pleasure shot in a straight line for her throbbing clit. Unprepared for the speed and power of the pleasurable jolt, the orgasm hit without warning. Her muscles tensed and then quivered like a released bow. She whimpered and hung in Max’s arms while her body bucked and shivered.

  “Jessi?”

  Dazed by the delicious band of waves pulsing through her, she was slow to open her eyes. When she did, Max’s face hung inches above hers. His eyes widened and ruddy color rode his high cheekbones. His Adam’s apple bounced on a swallow.

  “Did you just…?”

  Her heavy lids slid shut. “Yes, please.”

  His low groan vibrated against her chest. “Jesus, you’re killing me, Jess.”

  A latent spasm took her by surprise and she shivered. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

  Her leg muscles refused to hold her, and he tightened his hold, lifting her in his arms. Dazed with pleasure and delight, she rested her head against his shoulder as he spun around. An anticipatory smile curved her lips and she snuggled closer. If she had the strength, she’d be embarrassed by the speed with which he’d l
aunched her into orgasm, but she wasn’t about to apologize, since he was at fault. Besides, she’d make it up to him in a few minutes.

  Still, she was going to have to get control of her rapid-fire response to his kisses. A healthy sexual relationship demanded both parties be present when the fireworks went off.

  Her eyelids fluttered open as he bent and deposited her on a hard kitchen chair instead of a soft bed. He straightened and turned away.

  She blinked and reached out a hand. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “To take a shower.”

  Her hand plunked to her knee and her mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I’m here to help you, Squirt, but that’s as far as it goes.”

  She eased back in the chair and eyed the impressive bulge tenting his sweats. Lifting her gaze to his, her smile was keen. “Oh, really?”

  He turned away and bent to pick up his bag from the foot of the stairs.

  “I never would have taken you for a tease, Max.”

  He straightened and shot her a glare. “Damn it, Squirt. You’re a beautiful woman. Of course I’m attracted, but I’m not the man for you.”

  Every drop of lingering languidness evaporated beneath the scorching flare of frustration. “You can run all you want, but we both know a cold shower isn’t going to cure what ails you.” She raked her gaze down his body and up again. “Only I can do that.”

  Chapter 14

  The aged wood of the hallway above him creaked. Max looked up from the TV where the Marauders were crushing Seattle to frown at the ceiling. A moment later, the swish and click of cabinet doors opening and closing in the kitchen quickened his pulse.

  He scrubbed a palm over his jaw and glared at the empty stairway. Jesus. Tuck would bust a gut laughing if he were ever to learn how Max had run from Jessi like a chicken shit. Especially since the move didn’t have the desired effect.

  Granted, she’d disappeared while he was in the shower and spent most of the day in her room. The occasional strum of her guitar floated through the house as she worked, and he’d assumed he’d face hurt feelings and pouts when she finally came downstairs for dinner. He should have known better, however. Her innocent smile was a mask for a woman determined to get her way.

  A simple meal of grilled cheese and soup turned into a contest of wills. Insisting on helping with the preparations, she took every opportunity to brush up against him in the process. She made little effort to hide her agenda, sliding a slim hand across his back as she leaned for the salt shaker, or bumping a plump breast against his arm so she could sniff at the soup. He spent an uncomfortable half hour pretending that wasn’t a hard-on doing its best to break through his zipper.

  He’d excused himself the moment the meal was finished and dropped his forehead to the shower’s tile several minutes later when she knocked and popped her head inside the bathroom. She laughed, claiming the Malones were going to be surprised when they saw their water bill, before puckering her lips in a wolf whistle and shutting the door.

  Jessi Tucker was at war and she didn’t fight fair.

  If he was smart, he’d pack her up and return her to her father. Now. Tonight. Four more days of the cat and mouse game they’d been playing since that ill-advised kiss in the kitchen and he’d be frothing at the mouth.

  The memory of her shattering in his arms didn’t help matters.

  He’d never had a woman respond to his touch so quickly—or strongly. She’d climaxed for Christ’s sake. From nothing more than a kiss and the pressure of his thigh between her legs. The raunchy dreams she’d starred in over the years were tame compared to the scenarios sneaking into his brain in the last twenty-four hours. He could only imagine what it would be like to actually fuck her.

  His cock twitched and he broke into a sweat as the shuffle of her slippered feet announced her arrival.

  “How much time is left?” Reaching the bottom step, she eyed the TV and crossed the room to set a bowl of pretzels on the coffee table.

  “Five minutes. Weren’t you watching?”

  “I caught most of the first half while I was working,” she flopped onto the couch beside him, “but I hate blowouts.”

  At that moment, Tuck added to the lopsided score of the game with a diving, one-handed catch in the end zone. She pumped her fist in the air and cheered her cousin on as he rolled to his feet to spike the ball.

  “Aaaand, here comes Atlas.”

  Tuck struck his touchdown pose, flexing his chest and biceps for the crowd before his teammates piled on him in celebration.

  She laughed and shook her head. “Talk about rubbing it in.”

  Max shrugged. “They just clinched a spot in the conference final. They have a right to celebrate.”

  “You know what this means, right?”

  He turned his head to meet her gaze.

  “There are only four teams left vying for a Super Bowl ring, and one of them is the Hurricanes.”

  He grunted and looked away.

  She kicked off her slippers and propped her feet on the coffee table. “So, I’ve been thinking about your grandmother.”

  His shoulders bunched with tension. He’d already said more than he should on the subject of his past, but Jessi had a way of plowing through his defenses. From the sound of it, she wasn’t finished prodding.

  “I think we should hire a hit man and have her offed.”

  He flinched, turned his head, and couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?”

  She smiled but her eyes were sharp with a militant gleam. “What she did pisses me off. I totally believe in karma, but sometimes it needs a little help.”

  He propped his feet on the table beside hers. “Trust me, a hit man isn’t necessary. As far as I’m concerned, she did me a favor.”

  Her mouth pulled down into a frown. “How? I don’t have any experience with the foster care system, but it couldn’t have been easy living with strangers.”

  “Elizabeth Krandall was as much a stranger as anyone else, and even if the foster families that took me in weren’t sure what to do with a punk kid with an attitude, at least none of them actively hated me.”

  She turned on the couch, tucking one knee under the other. “Your grandmother is a blind fool and a heartless bitch, but hate is a strong word.”

  “Maybe, but it’s an accurate one.” He tucked his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. “I was just a kid the one time I met her personally, but even a twelve year old can recognize hate when he sees it.”

  “Where did you meet her?”

  “In a judge’s chambers a week after Mom died.” And all these years later, his skin still crawled at the memory. “She studied me as if I were a rabid animal that should be put down and, although I can’t prove the envelope she dropped on the judge’s desk was a payoff, her words made it clear. As the judge picked up the envelope, she told him, ‘Take care of this today, and if I hear one word from either the court or the press, you won’t like the consequences.’”

  A low growl rumbled in Jessi’s throat. “Forget the hit man. She belongs behind bars.” She snagged a pretzel from the bowl and broke off a piece with her teeth. “But you said she did you a favor?”

  He grunted. “Actually, her husband did me the favor. My grandfather didn’t step in when my mother died, and maybe he simply overlooked it, but there was an old provision in his will for Mom when he died a few years ago.” He rolled his head to meet her eye. “The money came to me, but not before the old bat did everything in her power to stop it.”

  Jessi’s brows arched even as her mouth twisted into an angry line. She popped the rest of the pretzel into her mouth. “I hope it was a lot of money.”

  The tension drained from his body as satisfaction surged. “Would you consider fifty-eight million a lot?”

  Jessi choked, coughed, and sat up s
traight. “Fifty-eight? Million?”

  “And some change.”

  She blinked and shook her head as if to clear it. “Holy shit!”

  His smile was smug. “A drop in the bucket since she’s worth billions, but I’m sure my grandmother had worse to say when she had to approve the transfer.”

  Jessi’s mouth dropped open and she sagged into the couch. Suddenly, she narrowed her eyes. “Are you making this up just so I won’t do time for capital murder?”

  “Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers.

  She tilted her head to one side, her eyes doubtful. “Were you ever a scout?”

  “Hell no. I was a street rat, remember?” He laughed at her scowl. “But it’s a cool salute, and I really did get fifty-eight million from old man Krandall.”

  Her smile started slow and grew into a full blown grin. She sat forward and held up her hand. “Karma, baby!” His palm met hers in a high five. Her soft laughter mingled with his, and she dropped back against the couch. “Wow.” Rolling her head, she looked at him. “Still, it’s too bad about the team.”

  His smile faded. “I never cared about the Hurricanes. The Krandalls have only one thing I want, and ironically, I’ll use my mother’s inheritance to get it.”

  “What’s that?”

  Shit. Damn her and her piquant smiles. A frown pulled at his lips as he stared at her without answering. The cat was out of the bag about his connection to the famous football family, but the fewer who knew about Haven Place and his plans, the better.

  She rolled her eyes. “Tell me.” When he remained silent, she sat up once more. “What? Do you think I’m going to run to the Krandalls and blab?”

  “No, but the only way to safeguard a secret is to keep it to yourself.”