by Joan Bramsch
"How did you get so cold anyway?"
He was dressed in his wrinkled tuxedo, the shirt half-opened to his waist and his jacket thrown over his shoulders with the discarded bow tie still hanging askew from the pocket.
"Five minutes away from you, baby, and I lose all my body heat.” He grinned again when he saw her feline smile of remembered pleasure. What a night of love! Casey had given him everything ... and more. He felt renewed, happy, filled with glorious energy and strength. “I just ran outside to get my soccer equipment from the trunk of my car.” He rubbed his hands together and a devilish gleam lit his dancing dark eyes. “Damn, it's cold outside!"
"Don't you dare!” Casey jumped from the couch, wrapping the big cover around her nakedness. She stood with one bare foot rubbing the instep of the other, unable to remember when her stockings had been removed. “I hope Mrs. Jacobi didn't see you.” She saw his questioning look. “Mrs. Jacobi ... she lives right across the street and she's the biggest snoop in the neighborhood. She'll know you spent the night with me."
"Doesn't everyone wear a rumpled tuxedo on Saturday morning?” he asked happily. “If she saw me, it probably made her day.” He kissed Casey's pert nose and buried his cold face in her tumbled love-tossed flaming hair. “She could just look at me and see what a splendid time we had together last night. I was walking on air and clicking my heels together at the same time!"
He laughed wickedly, overriding Casey's groan of exasperation at the ruination of her good reputation. “Guess you'll just have to marry me, honey."
"Don't joke, Shawn!” If he could make a proposal of marriage in jest, was last night only a dream?
"There's only one thing I have to know, Casey,” Shawn continued, unperturbed by her scolding. His eyes danced merrily as he quietly mentioned his prerequisite. “How are you with spiders?"
Casey froze him to the spot with a killing stare so he changed tactics. “All right, get dressed ... pronto! I'll meet you in the kitchen with a pot of fresh coffee in ten minutes."
When he threatened again to warm his hands on her toasty body, she grabbed her discarded clothes and bolted for the stairs, almost tripping over the corner of her makeshift robe in her haste to get away from him. But she had to laugh as she scambled up the steps. “I just can't stay mad at you."
"It's just as well,” he called after her. Anger wastes precious time, his heart whispered.
Upstairs in her bedroom she took a moment to examine herself before the full-length mirror. Except for some faint shadows beneath her eyes, she looked no different ... or did she?
She leaned forward to look more closely. Wonder crept into her sleepy orbs. I look the same except for my eyes. I have the eyes of a well-satisfied woman, she mused dreamily, giving herself a wicked wink of approval. “What a man!” She whistled in appreciation. “What a man!"
Realizing that Shawn would have no qualms in coming up the stairs to fetch her, she hurriedly pulled her freshly laundered soccer uniform from the dresser drawer before hopping in the shower. Five minutes later she threw on the heavy Kelly green sweatshirt and matching undies and side-split skimpy shorts, and quickly thrust her feet into knee-high white athletic socks and tied her rubber-cleated soccer shoes with a double knot. Haphazardly she ran a brush through her tangled locks, fastening a green ribbon around the ponytail at her nape.
After giving her teeth a cursory cleaning, she breezed into the kitchen, smiling her appreciation at Shawn's revealing sport's attire when he held out a steaming mug of fragrant coffee. The loose-fitting gray sweatshirt covering his torso failed to conceal the width of his shoulders and the breadth of his chest. Her imagination supplied the splendor of dark curls dusted liberally over his tanned skin. He wore dark soccer shorts.
Lazily she allowed her gaze to examine the sculpted contours of his thighs. Did she see a momentary tightening of those muscles when her eyes dwelt upon their strength? Was he remembering last night when those legs had propelled two bodies into outer space?
A tiny grin tugged at the corners of her full lips when she wished for the courage to point out to him that he had acquired a bad case of kitchen maid's knees! But she just couldn't. He might counter with an observation about her red chin—she definitely had a bad case of whisker burn!
Deciding words were not necessary after all, she stood beside him, leaning against the counter, sipping the brew and waiting for the caffeine to get into her system. A few minutes later, she glanced at the clock, then set her cup in the sink. “Come on, O'Brien. We've got a game to play."
He placed his cup beside hers and looked down into her blatantly competitive eyes. “A kiss for good luck, fella?” he teased softly, bringing her into his arms before she had a chance to answer one way or the other. He kissed her thoroughly, enjoying the clean taste of her mouth and the relaxed way in which Casey's body molded itself to his length. His hands massaged her back with growing awareness of her surrender. Then suddenly, he pulled away, red-faced.
"Dammit, Casey! You don't have anything on under that sweatshirt, do you?
She shook her head. Her ponytail bounced, her emerald eyes danced, a grin of triumph lit her gamin face. “Nope!"
"How the hell do you think I can play against you when I know that?” He ran his long fingers through his black curls, doing nothing but mess it up more.
"It's called defensive tactics.” She winked broadly. “I'm psyching you out!” she hissed diabolically. “Anyway I prefer not to be bound up when I play ... anything physical!” She was rewarded for her saucy retort; he tried to pinch her backside.
"Okay, O'Brien,” she ordered. “It's time to meet the Dangerous McDermotts"
It was decided they'd drive separately because Shawn had to return to the hotel afterwards. Glancing across the street Casey voiced her hope that old Mrs. Jacobi had risen late this morning.
"Coward!"
She slammed the truck door on his roar.
When they arrived at the playing field after a merry chase—Casey tried her best to lose him during the complicated twists and turns on the road to the park but he'd stuck to her bumper like glue! It took several minutes to introduce Shawn to the various and sundry McDermotts and Malones. Although Casey was the only female on her team, John had a sister and two nieces on his.
One of the nieces was a curvaceous blond Amazon who towered above Casey and could almost look directly into Shawn's eyes. After they were introduced, she leaned close to him, molding herself against his arm. “I'm sure we'll win today ... with a great big strong man like you on our team."
She positively purred, and Casey could have thrown up. Disgusting! she thought, gazing to the blue sky as through asking for deliverance.
Shawn slanted a knowing glance at Casey, then brought his eyes back to his admirer, letting her know by his sweeping gaze that he appreciated what he saw. “A kiss for good luck?” he asked, smiling crookedly when he imagined smoke coming from Casey's narrowed glare. John's niece was most cooperative! Whistles and catcalls of rowdy laughter filled the air from the members of the two teams looking on.
When Shawn released the girl, he ambled past Casey, stopping to stage-whisper in her ear. “It's called defensive tactics, Tiger. Watch your step, kid. I'm out to get you."
Casey could do nothing but clench her jaw and hold her tight fists at her sides. He left her then to go to his team, chuckling merrily to himself.
"Shanty Irish!” she seethed beneath her breath. Then it was time to play.
The referee blew his whistle and the teams sprang into action. In moments Casey had the ball and was dribbling with nimble feet down the field. From the corner of her eye she saw Shawn, playing as her opposing mid-fielder, run toward her. He was intent on taking the ball away from her control. In a lightening move, she sidestepped his attack. He tripped, then fell with a mighty thud.
"The bigger they are...!” she yelled, kicking the ball by the goalie for the first point.
Jubilant, Casey threw herself into Mike's arms, wrappi
ng her legs around his middle and pounding him on the back, shouting. “I told you it was in the bag, Mike.” Giggling, she patted his cheek when he groaned about his headache and begged her to lower her voice.
The next play was more complicated. The Murderous Malones were out for blood now. The feud was on. Suddenly the ball was flying through the air and both Casey and Shawn ran from opposite directions to get under it. Leaping simultaneously into the air, Shawn's taller stature and strength gave him added push so it was his head that bounced the ball, but Casey's jump proved damaging when the crown of her head met squarely under his chin, bringing a yowl of pain from his outraged body.
The whistle sounded. “Foul!"
"You're damn right ... foul!” yelled Shawn, gingerly flexing his jaw.
Casey took the ten-yard penalty docilely, telling Shawn sweetly that it was worth every yard. “I told you, you wouldn't be dancin’ tonight.” His only response was a dark thunderous scowl.
The score was one-up at half-time. Everyone from both teams streamed toward the sidelines and the jugs of water.
"Let me through,” cried a little girl's strident voice. “Let me through,” the child ordered again. “Mr. O'Brien?” She pulled on his perspiration soaked shirt. “Mr. O'Brien!"
Shawn glanced down and his face suddenly split into a wide grin when he dropped to his knee to meet her at eye level. “Well, well, well,” he said softly. “Don't tell me your name ... let me guess. You must be Katie, the best cheerleader in the state of Missouri.” He smiled again when she turned shy.
"I'm not that good ... yet,” she stated honestly, showing the combination McDermott-Malone gumption for excellence. “Anyway I'm just filling in until I grow a little more and can play with Uncle Mike and Aunt Casey on the Dangerous McDermotts,” she informed him importantly. “Aunt Casey says I'm gonna knock ’em dead!"
She gave Casey a worshipful long look. “Don't you think my Aunt Casey is the best player in the whole world?"
Shawn sent his own appreciative gaze over to Casey, his heart warming at the sight. She stood in full view, watching the scenario between man and child. He nodded solemnly. “I think your Aunt Casey is the best girl player in the whole world.” But he was taken aback when Katie put her little hands on her hips and leaned into his face, correcting him.
'No, no, no, Mr. O'Brien! You must say female player. My Aunt Casey says so."
His slicing glance back to Casey turned to a snapping look of reprisal when he saw the woman cover her mouth trying to hold back her laughter while she watched her nifty little niece put Shawn in his place. Properly chastised, he replied. “Point taken, little one."
Smiling again, this time looking as if she were going to drop a real bombshell, Katie looked directly into Shawn's eyes. Her bright red curls jiggled with her excitement. “I like you.” But before he could return the compliment, she drove home her main objective. “Do you like my Aunt Casey?"
Looking up to see if he still had Casey's attention, he returned his gaze to the little girl in front of him. “I like your Aunt Casey ... very much.” He answered seriously, knowing somehow that Katie was not playing games. She really wanted to know.
Coming very close, she lowered her voice to a whisper, pushing for a truthful answer. “Do you love my Aunt Casey?"
Again he did not flinch from her inquisition. Leaning forward so he could whisper in her ear, he gave her his answer. Katie nodded as if she fully understood, then whispered one more phrase to Shawn's ear. When he solemnly agreed, she gave him a swift hug around his neck and kissed him on the cheek before she turned like a startled fawn and ran back to her mother's side.
Shawn rose from his knee, his face beaming with a look of pure love and devotion as he watched Katie's delightful antics across the way. He sent a slow sexy wink to a puzzled Casey and walked back to his team, chuckling softly, grinning from ear to ear.
Casey wanted to know what all the whispering had been about. But she couldn't march right over and ask Katie. Shawn would see and that would be all he'd need. His buttons would pop!
The referee blew the whistle for the second half and everyone pummeled their teammates, urging them to greater glory. Three plays went by in uneventful succession but on the fourth play, Shawn had the ball and as he was trying to execute a difficult pass, Mike was called foul for holding.
"Hey, kid, don't you know there are rules against holding in this game?” Shawn roared mightily, caught up in the competition.
But before Mike could begin to make his own disparaging remarks, Casey jumped between them and stood toe-to-toe with her brother's antagonist. “You're crazy, O'Brien.” Her eyes shot green sparks at him. She held her little fist in front of his startled face. “Stop picking on my brother."
Mike started laughing and spanned his sister's waist with his large hands, lifting her, then setting her down again to the side of the confrontation. “Casey, when will you learn? He's too big for you to take on."
"Oh, yeah?” She walked away in a snit, leaving the two men, now shaking hands, by themselves.
She forgot her anger when, on the next play, Shawn flew out of nowhere and kicked the ball from her teammate's control, sending it out-of-bounds. She had to admit, it had been a fine piece of footwork so she walked over to a breathless Shawn to tell him.
"Nice play, Shawn.” Her compliment came grudgingly.
"They didn't call me the Hilo Hustler for nothin',” he trumpeted, puffing up his chest and strutting around like a peacock.
Casey just kept right on walking, raising her eyes and arms to the sky, wondering why she'd even bothered.
With the score tied, two-all, all stops were pulled out for the final play of the game. The crowd went wild, chanting, “Go, go, go!"
John, feeling the taste of victory, screamed at his team. “We're going to do it. Let's do it ... now!"
"Like hell you are!” yelled Casey at the top of her lungs.
Shawn was flying with the ball, unopposed down the field. With determination born of the will to win, Casey drew upon every reserve of energy and strength in her body. Taking advantage of her small size and quickness, she sprinted toward Shawn and stole the ball right from under his foot to score the winning goal.
The Malone team and its boosters stood in stunned silence while pandemonium broke loose on the McDermott side. Casey was boosted upon the screaming fans’ shoulders and paraded around the field. “Player of the game! Casey! Star player!"
She knew she'd played right out of her head. When they put her down she rushed toward Shawn who was watching the celebration from the sidelines, a loser's smile pasted across his flushed face. She threw her arms around his middle in a great bear hug of exuberance, pulling his still heaving frame to her body.
"Great game, huh, Shawn?” She grinned victoriously up into his sober face.
"A great game,” he agreed gruffly. “But usually I'm on the winning side."
Casey laughed, a teasing light came into her eyes. “Admit it, O'Brien. The old Hilo Hustler ain't what he used to be."
He brought his arms around her panting body and held her tightly as he leaned his face down to hers. “Nothing of the sort, McDermott.” Their lips were almost touching when he denied the charge. “It's just that my lover didn't let me sleep a wink last night!” He noted her shocked expression before he kissed her soundly on her opened mouth.
The kiss stole her breath away. Casey's eyes opened wide as she glanced around to see if anyone had been within hearing distance. Satisfied that there had been no eavesdroppers, she relaxed in Shawn's strong arms and slowly closed her eyes, but not before she caught her sister's beaming face. Maureen was furtively giving Casey the high sign and the message was clear. “Welcome to the International Sisterhood of Women in Love!"
The pair was abruptly interrupted when they heard a voice from below. “Mr. O'Brien? Mr. O'Brien!” They both looked down at Casey's serious-faced little niece.
Casey smiled at her, and Shawn, showing no sign of anger at
the child's inopportune appearance, smiled too. “What is it, Katie?"
She motioned him down to her side and he obeyed immediately. “Do you have the answer now?” She seemed to hold her breath, waiting for his reply.
Shawn shook his dark head. “Not yet, sweetheart.” Then he charmed her with his bewitching smile. “But I'm working on it.” He gave her a little peck on her smooth rose-red cheek. “I'm working on it."
"Good!” Then she bid the two goodbye and flew back to her parents who were busily discussing a replay of the game.
"What was that all about?” Casey couldn't stop herself from asking.
"It's a secret,” whispered Shawn, walking her back to their cars. His arm draped around her shoulder while his fingers massaged the tense muscles under her tangled ponytail.
"You've got her in your hip pocket,” she accused in wonder. “Do you have that affect on all females?"
"Only flaming haired females ... with tempers to match,” he answered. “But that isn't where I'd like to have you right now."
"Forewarned is forearmed, I always say,” she countered saucily, bending over to fish under the truck's floor mat for her keys. She yelped when she felt Shawn's hand slide over her rounded bottom. Instantly she stood straight and spun around to see if there had been any witnesses. “Will you stop that?"
"How about a little lunch before we get to work?"
"Work?” Had he been concussed in his fall? she wondered. “We don't have any work to do today."
"Didn't I tell you?” he went on innocently. “When I called Connie this morning to make sure she arrived safely, she had a long list of ‘must-do's’ for me. I need..."
"You called Connie ... this morning?"
"Yes, I called her while you were upstairs dressing."
"She knows.” Her statement mirrored her distress.
A frown creased his brow. Finally he understood and confirmed her worst suspicions. “Yes, she knows. What difference does it make? Damn, Casey, we're two consenting adults. What's the matter with you anyway?” he asked icily. “Are you ashamed that anyone knows you spent the night in my arms?” He grasped her shoulders in a steely grip. “Is that it? Are you sorry it happened?"