The Final Quarter

by Anne Lange

  Serena dialed Mason’s office and waited for his administrator to put her through.

  “Hey, sweetheart. How’s my favorite sis-in-law?”

  His deep voice made her smile. Mason was a great guy and someday he’d find the right woman to settle him down. Serena didn’t know much about his background, but he always seemed to be the one resolving the fights, urging the others in their family to stay in touch, even when their careers took them away. Not that he’d admit it, but Mason would make a wonderful father one day. He equally coddled and reprimanded every one of his foster brothers and sisters, but he’d give them the shirt off his back if one of them asked.

  “Hi, Mason. Did you manage to connect with Mitch?”

  A frustrated sigh came through the line. “Yeah. He called me this morning.”

  “Do you know what’s going on with him?”

  “I know his injury has benched him for a few weeks. Why? Is there something else?”

  She huffed out a breath. “I don’t know. He told me about his arm, but he said even though he won’t be playing, he can’t come home.”

  “That’s bullshit. His schedule’s not that tight. He’ll be training and spending time with the physical therapists, but he could work around that, and he can certainly do it from home. I’m not surprised his coach wants him at the games for moral support, though.”

  That’s what she’d thought too. “Listen. I just had an opportunity land in my lap that I’m thinking of taking. Would it be okay for me to trail the team for the next few out-of-town games? I know I can’t stay with Mitch—”

  “I could call the team and make arrangements for you to stay with them.”

  “No. That’s okay. I want to surprise him.”

  “Surprise him with what?”

  “Dates.”

  Mason’s deep, throaty chuckle vibrated through the phone line. “I love it. Where do you want him to take you?”

  “It’s not him who’s going to take me anywhere. I’m going to plan everything and he just needs to show up.”

  “Okay.” Though he didn’t sound too sure. “What do you need from me?”

  “To make sure he shows up for the first one. Then I’ll take it from there.”

  “I can do that. Just remember the team’s curfew and restrictions.”

  “I can do that. No alcohol and back to his hotel by midnight.”

  “What are you up to, Serena?”

  “Just a little naughty fun for my husband. I want to remind him that I love him.”

  “He knows that, honey.”

  “I know,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “But I get the sense that something is bothering him and I want him to know that he can count on me.” She didn’t want to admit that he might be purposely pushing away from her. She wouldn’t even consider that a possibility.

  “Well, if he doesn’t, let me know and I’ll fly in and kick his ass for you. Maybe even twice. I’m sure I owe him for some misdeed I never collected on.”

  She laughed. “Thanks, Mason. I appreciate your support. I’ll get things organized then I’ll send you the particulars.”

  “Sounds good. Tell my brother hi for me.”

  “I will. Not right away, because he’ll be a little busy. But afterward.”

  Mason chuckled and ended the call.

  Now she just had to get her husband to play her game.

  * * * *

  A few nights later, Serena waited at the round table in the corner. Nerves had her tapping her toes and strumming her nails on the hard tabletop. She’d barely touched the drink she’d purchased, thinking she’d need a dose of liquid courage, but it wasn’t sitting well in her stomach, which she chalked up to nerves. It’s not like I’ve done this before.

  After spending a few days ‘resting’, Mitch had left for Dallas, claiming he needed to meet with the team there and start working with his trainer. Even though he’d had his arm in a sling and she figured he should have stayed home, he’d spent most of his free time either at their training facility or reading out in their small backyard. He’d been home, but not. They’d had meals together in the evening, but then he’d gone for walks. She couldn’t engage him in meaningful conversation. She only hoped she wasn’t making a mistake now.

  Mason’s text had indicated that her husband was on his way. And her brother-in-law confirmed Mitch had no clue who he was meeting. Mason had told him that he needed to see one of the office staff who just happened to be in town to discuss potential contractual issues should he be out of the game longer than anticipated. Serena hoped like hell her husband would go along with her plan and not send her home. She was determined to stick to her guns on this, keeping the end game in sight.

  Mitch’s silence scared her. Her gut and her heart insisted he still loved her, but her mind conjured up worst-case scenarios. And it was that little peek into a bleak and lonely future without her soulmate that gave her the courage she needed to see this naughty plan of hers through.

  The energy in the crowded bar shifted, a subtle change, but she looked up nonetheless. Mitch stood in the doorway, probably blocking others from entering. For a quarterback, he was a large man, filling the doorframe shoulder to shoulder. It always amazed her that a man his size could run with the grace and speed that he did. The man could dart back and forth, swivel and change directions on a dime.

  He’d joked about his need for speed as a youngster, the only thing saving his ass as he ran away from kids bigger than him, intent on beating the crap out of him. She’d seen pictures of his early days with the Walkers. He’d been tiny in comparison to the other boys. But his size hadn’t hampered his ability. Judging by what Elaine had told her, if anything, it pushed him to outshine all of them.

  Serena knew his brothers well. She guessed those first days were rough with all that testosterone under one roof and having something to prove, but now they were closer than blood brothers—and sisters, she amended, when images of Jill and Bethany popped into her mind. The girls had joined their family when Elaine and Grant felt the need to add some estrogen to the mix. Though they were much younger than the guys.

  First, surprise widened his eyes when he spotted her like a heat-seeking missile from across the room. Then that spot between his eyes she wanted to smooth all the time lately pulled low, and confusion marred his handsome mug. He wove through the throng of people, beelining straight for her. The music thumped. She had purposely picked a hopping bar so nobody would notice them hunkered in the corner.

  For her first foray into public sex, she needed as much privacy as she could manage.

  Her husband stopped before her, tension tight in the way he held his shoulders. The sling was gone. Was that a good sign?

  “Serena? Honey, what are you doing here? Is something wrong? Why didn’t you call me?”

  The concern in his voice simultaneously pained her and gave her hope. He’d always been protective of her, but this was the first real emotion she’d seen from him in weeks.

  She straightened her spine. “Mr. Ryland? Mr. Enright said you’d meet me here. Thank you for coming.”

  “Huh?” Blatant confusion had his jaw dropping.

  She smiled, hoping to put him at ease, and took a deep breath. In for a penny… “Please, take a seat, Mr. Ryland. We have a few contractual issues we need to talk about.”

  “Serena, what the hell is going on?” He dropped into the empty seat across from her, keeping his back to the room.

  So far so good.

  “Mr. Enright has reviewed a few of the clauses in your contract and asked me to discuss them with you. How was the game tonight?” She knew her questions only added to his bewilderment. But she needed to get him talking and hopefully he’d figure out what was going on.

  “Uh, we lost. But never mind that. Serena…”

  “Oh dear, I’m very sorry to hear that, Mitch. May I call you Mitch?” She batted her eyelashes.

  He blinked—twice. “Um. Sure?”

  She stifled a giggle.
A habit when she was nervous, and boy did she have a case of nerves tonight. But she couldn’t blow this. If tonight’s experiment didn’t work… Well, she didn’t know what she’d do. She wasn’t about to give up, though. She would just have to come up with a new plan. But she needed to score a touchdown tonight if she wanted to ensure she got the okay to play the next couple of games. Oh, aren’t I impressive with these football analogies.

  “Can I get you a drink?” Serena picked up hers and took a healthy gulp of the vodka cooler, watching her husband try to puzzle out the situation. Oh, yuck. Damn, lately almost everything she drank tasted odd. Other than plain old water, the only beverage she could really stomach these days was green tea. Must be stress.

  He shrugged. “Iced tea is fine. Even though I’m not playing, I’m not allowed to drink.”

  She signaled for a waitress. When the young blonde woman sauntered over, Serena smiled as if she had a world of confidence packed away in her purse. “My guest will take an iced tea, please. And could I please have a glass of water? You can take this, I’m finished with it.” She handed the woman her cooler, the smell of it now tickling her nose in the most unpleasant way.

  “Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”

  “Now. Let me just find those papers.” Serena stood and turned to where she’d placed her briefcase on the floor a couple of feet behind her chair and against the wall. She bent over from the waist, keeping her legs straight. She smirked when she heard her husband’s choked gasp. “Here they are.” She shot up, spun around and grinned at him. “Just the pages I was looking for.”

  He narrowed his eyes. He clenched his teeth. “Sweetheart, where’s your underwear?”

  She waved his question away as though batting a fly. “Oh, look, here comes your drink.”

  Serena waited for the waitress to deposit their beverages. “Go ahead, have a sip. You must be parched. I just need to get ready.”

  He raised his eyebrows, but he picked up the glass and took a long swallow. His eyes never left her as she retook her seat and pretended to read the papers in front of her. God only knew what they actually said. She felt his gaze traveling over her, firing her synapses, totally blowing her concentration. He did it for her every time. She never tired of the way he looked at her. The way he touched her. The way he made her feel.

  A shiver of anticipation vibrated through her. I can do this.

  Rising once more, she picked up her drink and held the glass out to him. “Can you hold this for a moment, please?”

  “Sure.” His deep rumble set her on fire. That was his sex voice. Each time she heard it, awareness skittered along her nerve endings. Her senses sharpened. And it had been a while since he’d used it, so the fact that he did now thrilled her and urged her on.

  Serena placed the papers on her chair, then turned and dipped back into her briefcase. A low growl came from behind her this time. With an added wiggle, she retrieved a linen tablecloth from her bag and twirled around. His gaze shifted to her hands. “I don’t want to get the papers wet,” she explained. “Excuse me, please.”

  She nudged his arms out of the way, careful not to jostle him too much so he wouldn’t spill their drinks, while she draped the white tablecloth over the round table. It puddled on the floor. “Perfect.” She flashed him another smile, set her papers atop the table again, and reached for her water, though she set it down without taking a drink. Her stomach was a pile of nerves.

  “All set to get down to business.”

  “And are you going to tell me what the business is?”

  Her husband clearly remained leery. She couldn’t fault him for that. This was so out of character for her. He was typically the aggressor in their relationship. She’d always preferred to let others take the lead, even as a child. Maybe because her mother simply rolled right over everyone in her way, a trait of her legal position. Serena had simply found it easier to stay out of her path.

  But whatever was going on with her husband was affecting their marriage, and she wouldn’t stand by and watch while it withered away. She loved him too much to let him go that easily.

  Which meant she needed to step up her game if her husband wasn’t prepared to. But maybe it was more than that. Maybe this was about her suggestion a few weeks ago. Didn’t he want a family? She needed to convince him that she loved him more than anything, perhaps even more than fulfilling one of her own dreams.

  “It’s like I said, Mr. Ryland, we need to discuss a few things.”

  “What’s with this Mr. Ryland shit? What game are you playing, Serena?”

  “I know you’ve always enjoyed game nights,” she said instead.

  He shifted in his seat and looked down at his drink. His clenched the glass in his hand.

  “The rush of the game, the physical and mental challenge, the excitement of a win. The devastation of a loss.” She felt bad that they’d lost tonight and almost regretted her words. “I bet the endorphins are flying through your system, even right now.” She cocked her head. “Is it like sex?”

  He coughed, very nearly spitting out the mouthful of tea he’d just taken. “Excuse me?”

  She put on what she hoped to be an innocent face and mentally prepared herself to forge forward. “Well, I think the high of the game must be like foreplay, then the party afterward like an orgasm. So game nights are like having sex.” At least she hoped, because she needed all the help she could get tonight. And she felt utterly foolish saying this crap. But how else was she supposed to lead up to her plan for the evening?

  “Ah…”

  Serena almost let loose with another giggle, watching Mitch trying to figure out where the hell she was going with this ridiculous conversation. “You know,” she purred, “I’m well aware that you couldn’t actually play tonight.” She toyed with the papers. Spun her glass around a little.

  “No.”

  And her poor baby was pissed and hurting about that. Well, he needed to learn that she had his back. That when shit like this happened, he needed to talk to her. Knowing her husband, he was probably worrying himself sick that he was letting his coach down, his team down, the fans down. And he probably thought he was letting her down too.

  The fact that he wouldn’t meet her gaze confirmed it. So she’d just have to help him forget for a while and remember the benefits that went with having somebody who cared for him. Somebody who loved him and was willing to fly across multiple states and plan some pretty special and erotic nights for him to take his mind off his troubles. If he wasn’t going to come home to her, then she would damn well go to him.

  “I have something that might take your mind off your current situation.” Serena pulled her gaze from the man across from her and scanned the bar. Nobody paid them a bit of attention. She slipped off the stool, dropped to her knees and scurried under the table, letting the cloth provide the cover she needed.

  “Serena.” Mitch’s harsh whisper reached her ears, but she chose to ignore him. Instead she tucked her hands beneath his pants and ran them up his legs.

  He jumped. “What the fuck?”

  Chapter Five

  “Serena,” he growled. Never mind what the hell his wife was doing in Dallas, but what the fuck was she doing under the goddamn table? Mitch glanced around the crowded bar. Had anybody seen her duck under the table? At least she’d had the forethought to bring a cover. “Serena.” When she slid her hands up his legs a second time, her name flew off his lips. Her touch was light, almost ticklish. He felt her scoot between his spread thighs. Good Lord, she wasn’t going to…

  Sweet Jesus. His beautiful wife was on the floor beneath the table and she was, at this very moment, unzipping his pants. As each tooth of the zipper released, the tension in his pants lessened. From the moment she’d bent over and he’d caught sight of her lush, pink pussy peeking out at him from beneath her short skirt, he’d been sporting a hard-on. This was not normal behavior for his wife. The passive girl he’d married was nowhere to be seen. In her place was a sexy, take-char
ge woman. One who, apparently, had a goal tonight.

  Mitch closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He gripped the linen over the edge of the table. Around them, the bar’s other customers laughed, danced and bellowed for a waitress. The music blared. His eyes flew open as the opening strains of Nickelback’s Something In Your Mouth started. Really? Did she plan that too?

  His knuckles turned white. He stared at the top of the table. His gaze shot over to the papers, he narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t his contract. It looked like a copy of her travel itinerary.

  She spread his pants wide and cupped him, the warmth of her hand combining with the heat emanating from his cock. She squeezed. He groaned and gulped.

  She eased her fingers over the waistband of his underwear. The coolness of her smooth nails tickled as she skimmed over his lower belly.

  “Serena, honey, enough with the game. Come on, we’re in a public place.”

  They’d never done anything like this before. What had gotten into his sweet, demure wife? Sure, they’d made out in the car when they were dating, and a few times in the first couple of years of their marriage. But seven years in now, he figured they’d grown past that. And she’d never hinted at a propensity for exhibitionism.

  “Mr. Ryland, I assure you, I’m not playing a game.”

  Her muffled voice floated up from below. Cool air brushed over the head of his freed cock. She wrapped her hand around it, clutching his iron-hard flesh tight in her dainty fingers. Or was that just him pulsing in her fist? A blast of damp warmth fluttered over him. He swallowed. Her hold tightened. His dick jerked, pushing into her touch without thought.

  He reached for his iced tea and lifted the glass to his lips. He downed the remainder, hardly noticing the sweet taste. He wife was really going to do this. She intended to give him a blow job. In a public bar. Full of people.

  Holy fuck.

  Mitch held his breath. He bit down on his lip and strangled the glass, surprised he didn’t crush it into sharp splinters. Anticipation filled him. Expectation for that first touch tortured him. His skin tingled. Her hot breath drifted over him. The tickle of her tongue skated over the top of his cock, leaving behind a wet trail. The moist heat of her mouth engulfed him and he gasped, his body rigid as she wiggled her tongue over the tiny slit.