Romancing the Running Back

  After a moment, she bit back a laugh. Of course he wouldn’t. He’d consider that fussing, and shoot that idea down in a heartbeat.

  “We could discuss . . . us.”

  He snorted, but kept his eyes straight.

  Men.

  Leaning down, she brushed her breasts against his shoulder before whispering, “Josiah, I think it’s time to turn the TV off.”

  “Almost halftime,” he muttered. “We play these guys next weekend.”

  Yup, they were definitely in a relationship, if they’d already moved on to being ignored for the tube. Though she knew he would see it as “working” rather than ignoring her, which meant she didn’t take offense. She walked around to the front of the couch and stood just inside his peripheral vision.

  It took a moment for him to catch a glimpse of her, but she had the pleasure of watching his reaction dawn slowly over his face. His eyes glazed a little, his mouth dropped, and his hand fumbled for the remote. “Yeah, yeah, we could talk.”

  “That’s good.” She walked toward him as the screen went black. “I just didn’t want you to forget about me, since it’s been a while and you’ve sort of zoned out. I mean, this being a new relationship and all.” She waited a moment, then crawled onto the couch and straddled his legs. “I might need a lot of reassurance.”

  “Oh, yeah. Reassurance.” His hands glided up her legs, under the shirt, and palmed her bare bottom. “I can reassure you, no problem.”

  “Good.” This bolder, more assured Anya felt magical, but almost like a third-person perspective. As if she were watching it happen to her, instead of being in the moment. She’d never played the vixen in bed, never been the aggressor before when it came to physical intimacy. That she felt comfortable enough to try it out with Josiah spoke volumes to her. She unbuttoned the shirt, but let it hang loosely over her breasts. “I didn’t think we’d make it to the bedroom. I hope you don’t mind, since your drawer was open and they were hanging out.” She pulled the condom from the pocket and held it out between two fingers. “I wasn’t snooping.”

  “That I believe, since I nearly mauled the box open yesterday getting one out so I wouldn’t be late to meet you setting up.” He took the condom from her, then kissed her.

  “Yesterday? That was a brand-new box?” She blinked at him.

  “Yeah. It’s been a bit of a dry spell, and, I dunno . . .” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just . . . I wanted to be prepared, I guess. I’d seen this in my mind a lot of different ways, but I wasn’t sure it would ever work out. And in the long chance it did . . .”

  “It did.” She nipped at his lip. “Good thinking, champ. Now let’s see how your eco-friendly couch withstands a little lovin’.”

  He unbuttoned his jeans and had them down to his knees before she could sit up to give him room. Condom in place, he used his thumbs to open her, tease her a little. When his thumb grazed her clit, she nearly went blind with lust.

  Then he entered her, thick and full and deeper than the night before, thanks to the angle. She let her head roll back for a moment, just enjoying the sensation before they started moving.

  “Your show, hummingbird. Show me how you fly.”

  Whoops. There was the problem with pretending to be the vixen she really wasn’t. “I have no clue what I’m doing up here. I’ve never . . . like this.”

  “Never been on top? Ever?” His eyes widened. “Damn. I won’t say no to introducing you to this one. You’ll think I’m a sex god.”

  Maybe she already did. He clearly thought she had more experience in this arena than she actually did. She let him think it. His hands guided her movements, the slow slide and the quick thrust, until she found a rhythm that worked best for her.

  “Yeah,” he hissed. “God, yeah, Anya . . . I’m so close.”

  She wasn’t, but she didn’t have to say it. His thumbs came together and played with her clit, and suddenly she zoomed past him and crossed the finish line first. Gasping into his neck, she came around him, fluttering and spasming until she could barely breathe. His own voice stuttered out as he finished his climax.

  “That was . . . spectacular.” He gave her butt a friendly swat. “I’ve made a decision. TV stays off the rest of the day. It’s going to be up to me to figure out how many different positions you haven’t tried yet, and introduce you to all of them.”

  “In one day?” she asked on a laugh.

  “No, not one day. It might take a while.” He kissed her, and his hazel eyes were serious. “Problem with that?”

  She couldn’t think of one, so shook her head.

  * * *

  She killed him. Every little thing she did enticed, or aroused, or intrigued him. The way she ate chips from a bag—insisting there was a system—to how she preferred to lounge on the couch to watch a movie—she’d convinced him to rescind the no-TV rule for a movie only—to the way her foot tapped gently against the coffee table as she wrote.

  “Here.” She handed over the hummingbird notebook. “Cassie has no idea what to pick for the song for the wedding party to dance to. This is my list of suggestions. Add your own.” Saying so, she stood. “I’m getting a glass of water. Want?”

  “I’m good,” he said absently, glancing down the list. “You want me to add my own, or just cross off yours that are ridiculous?”

  “I didn’t suggest anything ridiculous!” she called from the kitchen.

  “K-Ci and JoJo are on here. Nineteen ninety-eight called. They want their playlist back.”

  “Fine,” she said, much belabored. “Add your own if you want.”

  He picked up the pen and flipped the page to start his own list, only to see the next page of the notebook was taken . . . by information on a charity. A charity she supported? Nice. Curious, unable to help himself, he read a few items on the list.

  No, he realized. Not a charity she supported. A charity she started. Right here in Santa Fe. He couldn’t quite get all the details, but it had something to do with dresses and second chances, maybe?

  “Wrong page,” she said quietly from behind him.

  He didn’t jolt, but he did flush. “I didn’t mean to pry, just flipped the page and it was there so—”

  “It’s fine,” she cut in hastily. “I should have mentioned it to people weeks ago.” Anya sat back down and put the ice water on the table beside her. Curling up her legs beneath her, she said, “Ask any questions you need to. I’m sure it’s surprising.”

  “Yes, but only because I didn’t realize you were putting down roots that far so fast.”

  She smiled a little, but it was a nervous one. “The opportunity sort of just fell into my lap. Only Mags knows, but she swore to stay quiet about it.” She explained the Chance to Dance nonprofit, what she was aiming to do, and the short timeline she was operating under.

  “Cynthia’s been great, it’s just hard to get it all done so fast. And now she’s talking about a fund-raiser and I’m drawing a blank.” She shrugged. “I know nothing about that. It took all I had to just get the paperwork figured out for the nonprofit status.”

  “But you can throw a party,” he pointed out. She’d proven that the night before. “A fund-raiser is mostly just a party where people bring their checkbooks.” He should know. He’d been to enough of them in his time in the league. “For a purpose, and usually with a theme in mind. Something to entice them to show up face-to-face, rather than just mail a check.”

  He stared at the notebook for a moment. “Couldn’t you host your own prom? We do formal events now and then, but legitimately make it like a prom from back in the day. The decorations and the prom king and queen?”

  She blinked owlishly. “A prom for a prom . . . keep talking.”

  “I’d bet money the guys would like coming, especially if the dress code was a bit more loose. Black tie is fun and all, but showing off the personality is mor
e up these guys’ alleys. Tell their women to wear actual prom dresses rather than those slinky dresses they wear now, do the jewelry up just like high school. Have a DJ play favorites from the past few decades.”

  “Prom king and queen,” she said slowly.

  “Right, like I said—”

  “But people have to pay to vote,” she interrupted. “You can vote for anyone in attendance, but you’ve gotta fork up the cash to make it happen.”

  “Brilliant.” He kissed her hard. “See? You’ve got this.”

  “It might take a while to get done. I don’t think I have the time,” she said warily.

  “You do if you talk to Kristen. Kristen, from the Bobcats HQ office. She’s, like, a wizard with knowing who we use for what kind of functions, from DJs to the reception halls, she’s got it all.”

  Anya settled back in the seat, scowling. “You’re telling me Cassie sent me on a wild-goose chase for this wedding for nothing? That the information was all at her fingertips from the start?”

  “Well,” he said, rolling his lips in a bit to hide a smile. “Corporate events are different beasts than a wedding, so that’s one thing. But also, I think she just needed you. Kristen’s awesome, we all love her. But you’re Cassie’s rock.”

  She raised one brow. “You’re sucking up now, aren’t you?”

  “A little bit. Is it working?”

  “Yes.” She kissed him, then settled her head in his lap. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime. Seriously.” He stroked her hair back from her face while she hit play for the movie and settled down to watch.

  He wanted to do a fist pump. He’d known she wasn’t just a beautiful face interested in beautiful things. But this confirmed it. Her devotion to turning her passion into a positive experience for young girls who couldn’t afford the formal necessities was a perfect fit. She was putting down roots. There was no way she could leave the area now.

  He wouldn’t let her think about it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cassie settled down in the booth across from Anya at the deli, her back facing the door. Anya had taken the same route as Cass and sat down before her food was ready, loving that the staff would help keep them anonymous from prying eyes. Ever since the blogs started speculating why so many Bobcats had congregated at the hotel the week before, Cassie had gone into ultra-protected mode. Their lunch date was the first public meal she’d had since the story broke.

  “It’s going to be ten times worse when the wedding planning actually gets started, with dates and everything,” Cassie moaned, letting her head fall to the side of the booth. “We couldn’t have just eloped?”

  “You could have,” Anya said, feeling sympathetic. It would never have been her choice, but she could understand the desire. Cassie wasn’t prone to liking attention and parties and glitzy things. “But as Tabitha reminded you, you’d offend a lot of important people.”

  “She’s a bitch.” Cassie sighed. “But she’s right. I hate that.”

  “Even the blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes.” Anya rubbed Cassie’s hand lightly. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

  She wore a light-blue cardigan over a graphic tee that featured a floppy disc with the words “Byte me” written on it. Cassie looked down and grinned. “You totally hate it.”

  “It’s you. I have found my Zen when it comes to your geeky graphic tees.” Anya held her hands out, thumbs and middle fingers touching, and closed her eyes, as if meditating. “And when I do this, I can’t even see the offensive outfit.”

  “You’re terrible.”

  “Your shirt invites me to bite you.”

  “If that’s what you got from the shirt, then you’re not reading it right.”

  “I’m dating Josiah.”

  “You didn’t even bitch about my shoes yet. Are you sick?” There was a pause, and Anya cracked open one eye. Cassie stared at her, blank-faced. “Backspace. What did you say?”

  “I said Josiah and I are dating.” Anya smoothed out the front of the chunky fisherman sweater she wore with dark skinny jeans and heels. The loose weave of the sweater kept her cooler than one might expect with the bulky fabric. “What did you order for lunch?”

  “Oh, no. Hell no are we just letting that mic drop go.” Cassie reached across the table and grabbed both of Anya’s shoulders, shaking lightly. “What the hell? Details, please!”

  “Shh, or you’ll ruin the effect of hiding,” Anya hissed. A server brought over their food at that moment, waiting until the employee silently unloaded the tray with their dishes before taking the tray away. “We’ve just decided that we, you know, suit. And stuff.” So eloquent, so poised. “It’s not a big deal.”

  Cassie sat back against the booth, a satisfied smile on her face. “It worked. Admit it.”

  “It might have been that spending time together caused us to realize we didn’t dislike each other,” she hedged, stirring her soda with a straw and not looking up. “Or maybe we both took some weird medication at the same time and woke up in bed together and decided to roll with it.”

  “You slept with him?”

  Anya didn’t look up, but she could feel the back of her neck heating. She moved her braid to the side, over her shoulder, to cool it down a bit. “No. We just watched the nightly news while holding hands and thinking pure thoughts.”

  Cassie went quiet for a while, until Anya couldn’t take the suspense anymore and looked up. Her friend’s mouth was full of sandwich. When Anya scowled, Cassie shrugged. “Wha?” she asked through ham and turkey. “I’s uh goo sanwish.”

  “You’re an animal. Anyway, the point is, we’re . . . dating. Basically.” She thought about it for a moment. “That feels really weird to say.”

  “Because of your ex?” Cassie said, poking a finger right into the wound.

  “Please have another bite of your sandwich. You were more charming that way. No. I mean, yes. Maybe. But mostly, I guess, because I haven’t dated in, well, since Chad and I were dating. That’s a long damn time. We dated longer than we were married.” Sort of. For the emotional part, anyway. The rest was just technicalities. “Let’s change the subject.”

  Cassie narrowed her eyes, but her mouth was occupied with another bite of sandwich, so she let it go and nodded.

  “I have another project I need your website expertise with. Before you say anything,” she went on, holding up a hand when Cassie swallowed and started to speak, “let me get it all out, and then you can yell at me and we can hug and move on. Because you know that’s how this works.”

  Cassie made an annoyed sound, slumped back in the booth, rolled her eyes . . . but stayed silent. Because she was a damn good friend.

  Deep breath, girl. You’ve got this.

  “I started a nonprofit. It’s called ‘Chance to Dance,’ and its main purpose is to provide formal dresses for high school girls who can’t afford to buy their own dress for those big dances that you go to. Senior ball, homecoming, prom.” She took a breath, waited for Cassie to continue. Though her friend had lost the mulish, stubborn look, she remained quiet. “It started as an idea probably five or six years ago, but I wasn’t sure if I could—or would—ever be able to make it happen. Then I went shopping with Mags for a formal gown for that fund-raiser y’all had about a month ago—remember that one? And that sparked the idea, and I found Cynthia, my business partner. Or nonprofit partner. Not sure what the correct term there is, since I’m not making money.”

  “Yet.”

  “Huh?” She blinked at Cassie, who had broken her vow of silence. “Yet what?”

  “You’re not making money, yet.” Cassie leaned forward, elbows on the table. “A year ago, when I was being dragged around with my dad and his, well, Tabitha, I attended a lot of charity board meetings and various other get-togethers of society matrons who like to contribute to things like this. The business is a nonprofit, but the pe
ople who work for it are still typically pulling in a salary, even if it’s a modest one.”

  “This is a one-woman show. Or two-woman show. It’s not meant to be a job. It’s just something I want to do.”

  “But what if it was?” Cassie spread her hands out on the table now, all but leaping over the table. “Anya, what if this turns into something bigger than just showing up at a few local high schools with some dresses? That’s awesome, don’t get me wrong. I think it’s amazing, and so perfectly you that I can’t believe you didn’t jump on this idea the minute you had it.”

  “When I was still living with two roommates, barely making enough to eat and pay my share of the electric bill?” Anya laughed. “Sure. Okay.”

  “Well, whatever. The point is, you’re passionate about it, and knowledgeable about the subject. It’s a perfect fit. It could go farther than just our local area.”

  Anya absorbed that for a moment, then picked at her Cobb salad, pulling up a piece of egg. She stared at it. Had she ever noticed how funny eggs were to look at?

  “Anya? Did I upset you?”

  “No,” she said slowly. “I just never really thought about it taking over as a full-time job. It was always meant to be a local support thing.” She laughed weakly. “Guess I wasn’t thinking big enough. That’s not like me.”

  “No, it’s not. But I’m sure you would have gotten around to it eventually.” Cassie waved a hand at Anya’s bag. “Notebook. You’ve always got a notebook. Get it out and let’s start jotting down ideas for the website. Now that I can’t just poke my head into your room, I wanna get the major points nailed down while we’re face-to-face.”

  Anya handed over the hummingbird notebook, turned to a blank page, and a pen. “Cynthia thinks we need a fund-raiser. That we won’t be able to get started without one. Dresses are no problem, but there are other factors that come into play. Not a ton, since she’s being so sweet and letting me use an empty corner of her consignment store to keep the dresses.”