He hands me back his bio, but as his fingers graze mine, it slips from my grasp and tumbles to the ground. Before I can move to pick it up, Corey’s fingers grip mine. The warmth and tenderness are as unexpected to me as so much of his personality. I want so badly to move in closer to him, to touch his face, brush his lips with mine. I want to climb on top of him and meld my flesh to his. But I can’t.
“I’m nothing but trouble for you, Corey.”
He squeezes my fingers, running his thumb across my knuckles. His dark eyes simmer in the light streaming through my window. “A little trouble never hurt no one.”
I shake my head and pull my hand away from his grasp. “You don’t know my brand of trouble.”
“Is this about that bartender?” he asks.
“Mitch? No. No, he’s just a friend.”
“Really?” Corey leans forward again, brushing his fingers against my knee. “You treat all your friends like that?” My cheeks heat and he laughs a deep rumble when he sees it. “If so, I’d like to be your friend, Frankie.”
“Friends, huh?” I ask as I eye his hand taking a slow path up my thigh. I want to stop him. I put my hand over his and he stills. But his eyes are calling to me, and I’m hopelessly moving closer to him.
“I want to taste you again,” he says, and his lips brush mine. “I want to touch you again.”
I move my hand to his face as he kisses me, gentle at first and then with more urgency. His hands are exploring my body as our tongues dance together. This dance, his taste, is so familiar, as if I’ve been drinking it in my entire life.
I pull back and work my lips over his jaw. He pulls me into his lap and I straddle him, moving against him. I grab a fistful of hair and tug, exposing his neck, and I nip it, lick it, kiss it, until my lips are burning with need.
I need this.
I can’t have this.
I have to stop.
I don’t want to.
“I can’t do this,” I pant as my lips find his again. “I can’t… Oh, God, Corey.”
Corey’s hands are on my hips, pressing me down on top of him as he grinds his erection into me. “I know, doll. I know.”
Those words undo me. I’ve never wanted anyone so much. And yet I know I can’t have him. I slow my assault on his mouth, then loosen my grip on his hair. He feels the change, too, and loosens his grasp on me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, kissing him once more, then again. “I’m sorry, Corey, I can’t. I can’t, I’m sorry.”
I pry myself off of him and walk to the windows to get away from his smell. I clutch my fingers against my lips, holding in the memory of his taste. I lean against the window, desperate to catch my breath and find some semblance of control. Corey comes up behind me, the heat from his body offsetting the cold from the glass against my forehead. His hands rest on my shoulders for a moment, then he pulls me back into him.
I turn and face him and allow him to kiss me when he bends his face to mine. The heat is still there, but the urgency is gone. There’s just a slow, sensual dance as lips caress lips.
He pulls away and runs the tip of his nose along my nose before he rests his forehead against mine. I slide my arms around his waist and he does the same to me.
“You need to go,” I tell him, my quiet words not wanting to come out. I slide my hands to his chest and push ever so slightly. My body is rebelling against my mind, wanting him close to me when I know I can’t allow it. “I can’t be with you.”
“Frankie, doll, please,” Corey says back, his voice low and pleading.
“I’m sorry.” I kiss him on the lips before pushing him away. “Please, don’t pursue me. This won’t end well.”
All his fight leaves him. His shoulders slump like a balloon with a slow leak. He looks deep into my eyes and I’m lost in the dark looking back at me. With one last gesture, his fingers brushing down my cheek and neck, Corey turns and leaves me there. My body aches for his touch while my mind tells me I did the right thing. It’s for the best. It’s the only way to keep him safe.
“What are you doing here?” Vivian asks as she walks across the tile floor of my uncle’s plush living room and sits down on the soft, cream-colored leather chair across from me.
I look up from my spot where I’m curled up on the sofa with a thick blanket wrapped tight around me. I give my best attempt at a smile, but judging by the look on Vivian’s face, I’m sure I haven’t succeeded.
“I thought I’d come home for the weekend,” I tell her. I realize after I say it that my lousy attempt at a smile came off better than my explanation. Vivian knows better.
Even though I’ve lived here in Marco’s house since before my teenage years, I’ve never felt like this was home. I grew up in my grandmother’s house and chose to stay there after my mother died. It was one of the only times Marco listened to my wishes for my life. But then again, he wasn’t one to cross his mother. I’ve felt homeless since I was twelve, when my grandmother passed and I was forced to come live with Marco. Not homeless, as in living on the streets. But homeless, without a place I can call home, where I can be myself, do what I want, and enjoy the simple things in life.
The only place I’ve felt came close to home makes me ill to think about. That night I spent with Corey in my hotel room, when I fell asleep on his chest and woke up in his arms: that felt like home.
“Something happen with Mitch?” Vivian asks.
I put my head back down on the throw pillow and stare at the huge black television screen hanging on the wall. “Nothing happened with Mitch. There’s nothing to happen, Viv. He’s just a friend.”
“Mmm, sure.” Vivian stands up and comes to my side, looking down at me like I’m as sick as I feel inside. “You look heartbroken, Frankie. You break up with him?”
“For crying out loud!” I sit up and pull my legs up under me, still wrapped up tight in my blanket. “For the last time, Mitch and I are only friends. We’ve never been more than that, and we never will be.”
“You two looked like a lot more than friends the other night. Shit, if I had a friend like that, I wouldn’t need a boyfriend. God, he’s sexy.”
“Then why don’t you go out with him?” I cringe. That would be a bad idea. The men Vivian has been with in the past don’t fare well. She’s like her father; she has an overbearing presence and consumes the energy of anyone she’s with. Men wither under her. And the strong ones, like Mitch, fare the worst.
“I don’t think you mean that,” Vivian says as she crosses her arms over her chest.
Of course I don’t. Vivian gets whatever she wants, whenever she wants. But she’s never taken what’s mine. And if she went after Mitch, we both know that would be the end of my friendship with him. She’d never do that to me.
Instead of answering, I wrap my arms around my legs and tuck my chin between my knees. Vivian is right. I feel heartbroken. Ever since Corey left my office down in Arizona earlier this week, I’ve felt like I might break. It’s worse when I see him. Something about him has changed. He’s stopped flirting with every woman he comes in contact with. Sure, he talks to them. And his charm is always there. The women flirt back relentlessly. Everything about him is more subdued, except for his drive in practice.
I’ve been down to the field to watch the games more this week than since I first arrived. But really, I’m fooling myself if I believe that. I’ve been down to the field to watch Corey in practice. I can’t help it. I haven’t talked to him since he left my office. The first day I went to watch was to see if his animosity had returned. From what I can see, it hasn’t. From what I can see, he’s solely focused on his work. Even the banter he’s always had with Cromwell and Rodriguez is subdued.
I don’t know what any of it means. I want to talk to him. But at the same time, I know how dangerous that would be. I can’t control myself around him. I can’t help but want to touch him, kiss him, hold him. I want to know if he feels the same way.
“Is it someone else?” Vivian asks. I’d
forgotten she was here, and her voice startles me.
“Someone else?”
Vivian sits down on the couch next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “That’s made you feel this way. Frankie, I’ve never seen you like this before. Even back in school, or when you were in college. Is there someone else?”
I shrug her hand off my shoulder. “There can’t be, Viv,” I remind her. “I’ll die an old maid, never knowing true love. You know that.”
Vivian chuckles at our old joke. “I don’t believe that.” Her voice is gentle, like she’s afraid I’ll blow away if she talks louder. “Someday he’ll understand. Someday you’ll make him understand. You’re not one to back down, Frankie. One of these days he’ll listen to you.”
As if on cue, I hear the back door open and telltale signs of someone putting away packages in the kitchen. Vivian squeezes my shoulder, then stands and glides to the doorway. Before she gets there, Marco comes into the room.
“Vivian!” Marco beams a dashing smile. He grabs her by the shoulders and kisses each cheek before he looks over and sees me on the couch. I pull my head out of my knees as he looks back at her. “What’s this? Both my girls home to see me?”
Marco gives his daughter a big hug and releases her. I take my arms out from under the blanket as he closes in on me.
“Tesoro, you look as beautiful as always.” He kisses each of my cheeks and sits down on the couch next to me, an arm around my shoulders. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I thought I’d come home for the weekend,” I tell him. “Take a little break from it all.”
Marco raises his arm and gestures to the beautiful room around us. “You know you’re welcome here anytime, Frankie. Anytime. In fact, you never have to leave. Come, move back home. You don’t need to live in that hotel. Your home is better than that.”
“The hotel is fine,” I assure him.
“Where’s Vinny, Daddy?” Vivian asks before Marco can respond. She knows a fight brewing when she sees one. My living at the Savory is a point of contention between the two of us. I throw her a grateful glance as Marco turns his attention to her.
“Ah, off jetsetting again. I hear he’s found a new girlfriend,” Marco says with a smile. He shakes his head. “That boy. Always chasing love.”
“That’s my brother for you,” Vivian says. The laugh that accompanies her words warms the broken spot in my soul. It’s good to know at least one of us can find love, even if it is more often than most.
“Have you met her?” Marco asks. “Jess or Jane or something?”
“Jen,” Vivian answers. I whip my eyes up to hers and she gives me a knowing smile. I hadn’t realized Vinny and Jen hit it off so well. “She’s a real sweetheart, Daddy, you’ll love her.”
“Ah, good,” Marco says, beaming. “I should fly her out so I can meet her.”
“No!” Both Marco and Vivian stare at me with wide eyes and I try to recover. “I mean, it’s early, Marco. He may decide tomorrow he doesn’t like her anymore. You should wait.”
Marco frowns at me. “Is it too much that I want to meet the woman who holds my son’s heart?”
I shake my head. “Marco, you know Vinny. You can’t go hearing wedding bells every time he finds a girl he’s in love with. Give them some time to get to know each other. If it’s meant to be, you’ll meet her.”
Vivian raises an eyebrow at me, but when Marco glances at her, she nods her head in agreement. “She’s right, Daddy. You know how Vinny is. He was with his last girlfriend for three days, and he was sure she was The One.”
Marco looks back at me and pats me on the knee. “You’re always the voice of reason, Tesoro. You’re right. Now come, let’s eat. I brought home scallop and mushroom risotto from Luciano’s.”
As he rushes off to the kitchen, Vivian takes my arm and walks with me. “Always the voice of reason,” she says, a murmur only loud enough for me to hear.
I know she’s shocked by my outburst. Never once have I tried to convince Marco to do anything, one way or another, regarding Vinny and his girlfriends. Never once have I interceded. I’ve done so adamantly tonight, and while I know she wants to know why, I can’t tell her.
I can’t bear for Vinny to bring Jen around. It’s not fair. It’s not safe. I know Marco. We’ve been through this dance before. He won’t stop at Jen. He won’t stop until he’s met her entire family, or until Vinny breaks up with her. He’ll fly her in for starters. And if the relationship lasts more than a month, he’ll fly in the rest of her family. He’s done it in the past, and I can’t let that happen now.
I can’t let him bring Corey to the house. I can’t let him put that man close to me. It’s not safe for Corey. It’s not safe for me.
“Tell me, Tesoro,” Marco addresses me after we’ve taken our seats in the soft, padded chairs around the circle table in the sunroom. “How are you doing? Is your job treating you well?”
“It’s going good.” I try to relax, to put humor into my voice. I can’t have Vivian asking questions. “But the owner of the company, he’s a real slave driver.”
Marco gives a hearty laugh and Vivian smiles around a bite of risotto. “Maybe I should have a talk with him,” he says. After a sip of wine, he asks, “How are the bios coming?”
“Good. I finished the interviews early this week and have everything over to the formatters. The programs should be ready tomorrow. Plenty of time before the opener.”
“Ah, fantastico! How were the players? Did any of them give you a hard time?”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat and take a gulp from my wine glass. “They were fine, Marco. Everything was fine.”
He narrows his eyes at me. His face takes on the stern look I’ve come to loath. “I don’t want any of those men near you, Frankie. If any of them so much as touch you, I’ll have their heads.”
I take another large gulp of my wine, bracing myself for a fight. “I can take care of myself, Marco.”
“Nonsense. I know these men, Tesoro. They are not the kind of men you should be around.”
I desperately work to keep my voice level, but my volume increases as my anger rises. “I’m not a child, Marco. I’m a college graduate. I have a real job, pay my own bills. I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions now.”
“No,” Marco responds, his voice menacing.
“Daddy—”
“No, Vivian!” He holds his hand out in front of his daughter, stopping her. But he doesn’t take his eyes off of me. “I promised my baby sister, on her deathbed, I would look out for you, Frankie. I will not go back on my word. I won’t allow you to get hurt because some good-for-nothing ball player can’t keep his hands to himself.”
“I am not my mother!” I slam my fork down on the table, startling my cousin and uncle. “I am not going to get knocked up and leave my child with you when I die. I am my own person, dammit.” I jump up from my seat, splattering wine across the table as my glass falls on its side. I stare down at my uncle, who sits stupefied in front of me. “One of these days you’re going to have to stop trying to control every aspect of my life. The only thing you’re accomplishing is pushing me away from you and harming me in the process.”
I spin away from him before he can respond and brush out of the room. I grab my shoes, jacket, and overnight bag from the floor by the front door, not bothering to put anything on as I storm out the house into the freezing spring night. I can’t take any more of his crap. Marco is the reason I’m in this mess. He’s the reason I feel the need to drive my car off a cliff. My life will never be mine as long as he is around, not when he spends every moment of his day trying to protect me from ending up like my mother.
I’m older than she was when she got pregnant with me. What Marco doesn’t understand is that protecting me from having a real relationship will not protect me from the promiscuous life my mother lived. Quite the opposite. When I have no one to turn to that I love, no boyfriend, no friends… There’s only one way to find the comfort I s
eek.
I’m at the bar, sitting down in front of Mitch, before I even bother to slip my shoes on my frozen feet. He takes one look at me and walks around the bar. He pulls me into his arms and holds me close to him. When he kisses my forehead, I turn my face up to his. I slide my hand around the back of his neck and pull him to me, pressing my lips to his.
In an instant, his lips melt against mine. The minty freshness of his breath stings against the sweetness of the wine still left on my tongue. My chest is tight and I’m having problems breathing. I just want to forget. I want a night that will make my troubles go away, take my mind off of Marco, Corey, and my loveless life.
When I slide my hand up Mitch’s chest, he pulls back and grabs my hand in his. “Frankie, you don’t want to do this.”
“Yes, I do.” I close my eyes and Corey’s face flashes in my memory.
“No, darlin’, you don’t. You know you don’t. And if I let you take this further, you’ll regret it in the morning.”
“It’s not fair, Mitch,” I say as I bury my head in his chest. He wraps me tighter in his arms. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“I know,” he says against my head. “It will get better. Someday. You’ll see.” Mitch moves an arm away from my back, then he’s pulling me to my feet. “Come on. Let’s sit over here and you can tell me about it.”
I glance up at the bar and notice the manager, Carol, come out of the back room and smile at me. She starts taking care of the customers seated around the bar as Mitch drags me to a booth in a dark corner of the room. He tucks me under his arm and I spill everything to him as I lean against his chest and try not to cry like a baby.
Chapter 7
Corey
“A Benny and a beer.” Matt drops beside me on the long, half-circle booth and holds a drink out to me. I take the bottle and the hundred-dollar bill wrapped around it with a smirk on my face.
Playing with Fire - A Sports Romance Page 7