DEVON DRAKE, CORNERBACK
First & Ten Series, 4
Jean C. Joachim
Sports Romance
Moonlight Books
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A Moonlight Books Novel
Sensual Romance
Devon Drake, Cornerback
Copyright © 2015 Jean C. Joachim
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62622-801-6
First E-book Publication: August 2015
Cover design by Dawné Dominique
Edited by Tabitha Bower
Proofread by Renee Waring
All cover art and logo copyright © 2015 by Moonlight Books
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Moonlight Books
Dedication
For my good friend, Mike Gleason and his wonderful pug, Brodie
Acknowledgment
Many thanks go to my support team: Larry Joachim, David Joachim, Steve Joachim, Marilyn Lee, Patty Hammond, my editor, Tabitha Bower, my proofreader, Renee Waring, editor-in-chief, Ariana Gaynor and Sandy Sullivan. Special thanks go to my readers.
Other books by Jean C. Joachim
FIRST & TEN SERIES
GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK
BUDDY CARRUTHERS, WIDE RECEIVER
PETE SEBASTIAN, COACH
THE MANHATTAN DINNER CLUB
RESCUE MY HEART
SEDUCING HIS HEART
SHINE YOUR LOVE ON ME
TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE
HOLLYWOOD HEARTS SERIES
IF I LOVED YOU
RED CARPET ROMANCE
MEMORIES OF LOVE
MOVIE LOVERS
LOVE’S LAST CHANCE
LOVERS & LIARS
His Leading Lady (Series Starter)
NOW AND FOREVER SERIES
NOW AND FOREVER 1, A LOVE STORY
NOW AND FOREVER 1, THE BOOK OF DANNY
NOW AND FOREVER 3, BLIND LOVE
NOW AND FOREVER 4, THE RENOVATED HEART
NOW AND FOREVER 5, LOVE’S JOURNEY
NOW AND FOREVER, CALLIE’S STORY(series starter)
MOONLIGHT SERIES
SUNNY DAYS, MOONLIT NIGHTS
APRIL’S KISS IN THE MOONLIGHT
UNDER THE MIDNIGHT MOON
MOONLIGHT & ROSES (prequel)
LOST & FOUND SERIES
With Ben Tanner
LOVE, LOST AND FOUND
DANGEROUS LOVE, LOST AND FOUND
NEW YORK NIGHTS NOVELS
THE MARRIAGE LIST
THE LOVE LIST
THE DATING LIST
SHORT STORY
SWEET LOVE REMEMBERED
DEVON DRAKE, CORNERBACK
First & Ten Series
Jean C. Joachim
Chapter One
Her words echoed in his head. I missed the last flight out, sorry. I’ll be there tomorrow. Next week. For sure on Monday. Excuses rolled off her tongue week after week.
Devon Drake, cornerback for the Connecticut Kings, fingered the long, velvet-covered box in his pocket. Emeralds to go with her eyes. The necklace had three stones and a gold chain. It was supposed to be his Christmas present for his girlfriend, but the holiday had passed with her thousands of miles away. Jackie Lawrence was a gorgeous supermodel, who was never around.
It’s business. I’m trying to break into acting. We talked about this. Yes, I have to go out with them. They’re only publicity pictures. More excuses, one for each picture appearing in Celebs ‘R Us, of her holding hands with some hot actor.
A week before the Super Bowl game, Dev stood next to the window, staring out at the snow. The Kings were playing. This wasn’t his first Super Bowl. He’d played when he was with the St. Louis Sidewinders. And they’d won.
This time, Devon wasn’t in great shape. He was too heavy. Foolish eating and not enough exercise had slowed him down. He worried about his performance and if the Kings would keep him, trade him, or even suspend him if he couldn’t play the way he used to.
He needed Jackie, needed comfort—physical and emotional—and where was she? Probably screwing some director to get her shot at a movie. He shook his head, fiddled with his keys, and stared at the flurries coming and going. Seemed as if the weather was as undecided as he was.
Devon knit his brows and placed his palm on the window. He planned to step up his performance, but loneliness nagged at him, distracting him. His sister, Samantha, was helpful, to a point. But he needed Jackie, and she wasn’t jumping on a plane anytime soon.
“Stormy’s coming over for dinner,” Samantha said, as she brushed by him. “You’ve got to promise not to ask her any questions.” She opened a drawer and pulled out placemats.
“Fine. Whatever.” Devon couldn’t shake his sour mood.
“It’s freezing in here. Why don’t you make a fire?”
“Orders! You order me around like I’m your little bitch. Show some respect. This is my house. Don’t tell me what to do.” Jamming the velvet box in his pocket, Devon stormed out.
He climbed the stairs two at a time and slammed the door of his room. The ding of a text grabbed his attention.
Dev, dear—
Stuck in L.A. for another two weeks. Great news on the TV part.
Am finalist for new luxury watch ads too. Miss you.
Will make it up to you. Wink. Wink.
Jacks
He considered throwing the phone across the room, but changed his mind. Fuck. He’d been dating the leggy blonde for three months. Her constant preoccupation with her looks drove him a bit crazy, but he put up with it. Wherever you went with Jackie, people noticed. Cameras flashed, maître d’s gave you the best table, folks asked for her autograph. No one recognized him when they were together.
Dev didn’t mind taking a back seat. Jackie was a fame junkie, for sure. He found it amusing. Sometimes, he got tired of her obsessive chatter and gossip. She never read a book or a newspaper. Never saw a thought-provoking movie. She was a publicity hound, an attention whore preoccupied with her image.
Even in bed, she’d make sure her hair was perfect, and she had makeup on before they had sex. Devon was a morning lover, and her fussiness blocked the spontaneity he craved. Still, she could have been with any of a thousand, no, a million men, and she chose him. He was flattered beyond belief. Sometimes, he’d look in the mirror, shake his head, and wonder how the little kid from nowhere was now a football star and escort to a top model. He
never believed the thick, dark hair, bright blue eyes, perfect nose, and amazing physique reflected in the looking glass.
He understood her ambition and drive regarding modeling. They shared the knowledge that their careers would be short-lived. If Jackie Lawrence was going to make it as a model and then an actress, she had to hustle. No twenty-five-year gold watches awaited cornerbacks or supermodels. Their careers flashed by in an instant. So, Devon cut her some slack.
He spent many a Sunday afternoon reading a book while Jackie schmoozed on the phone, networking, as she called it. But missing Christmas and New Year’s was over the line.
His fingers closed over the velvet case. He had hoped there would’ve been even a token gift for him from her under his tree, so he’d kept the box. But no such luck.
The text took his temper to boiling. He rifled the box across the room. The minute it left his hand, he regretted it. Shit! Five grand! Devon had never spent that kind of money on a woman before. Racing over, he picked it up gently. He opened it and blew out a breath when he saw the jewels were intact.
The scent of something wonderful from the kitchen drew his attention. Smells like lasagna. Devon loved his sister’s cooking. His mouth watered, and his stomach rumbled at the idea of what would grace his table.
He dialed Jackie’s number, but the call went straight to voice mail, which didn’t help his attitude. He pushed aside nagging doubts and decided to drown his sorrows in beer and a big helping of pasta. He wandered down to the kitchen where Samantha was putting the finishing touches on dinner. She handed him a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and a corkscrew.
“Why didn’t you tell me Stormy Gregory was living around here?” he asked.
“Because she’s at the shelter, and that’s confidential. Leave her alone, Dev.”
Devon Drake’s thoughts focused on the little girl, now a woman, who had been his kid sister’s shadow in high school. Two years older, Devon had looked at the girls as little kids back then. Now, he was thirty, and he knew a beautiful woman when he saw one, even if she had a bruised face.
“Promise me you won’t give her the third degree?”
He raised his palms. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because you’ve always pushed her around as if she was your little sister too. And you’re nosy. Damn nosy for a guy, Dev.” Samantha poured dressing on the salad. “Any news from your girlfriend? And I use the term loosely.”
“She’s still in California. Try to look at least a little disappointed.”
Sam laughed.
“I know you don’t like her. But she’s my girlfriend, so be nice,” the footballer said.
“She’s just interested in your money.”
“She makes good money herself.”
Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Taking her clothes off?”
“It’s called modeling.”
“Yeah, right.” His sister snickered.
“Hey, I agreed not to ask about Stormy, how about you stop trashing Jackie.”
“Sorry, but I don’t get what’s so super about a supermodel?”
Before they could continue arguing, the doorbell rang. Sam went to answer it, and Devon headed for the fireplace. As usual, his sister was right. It was cold in there.
* * * *
Stormy and Sam disappeared into the kitchen.
“Boss me, Sam. Tell me what to do,” he heard the little redhead say. She was tying on an apron, when Devon wandered in for another brew. His gaze swept over his sister’s friend from the back. She was slim, but had an amazing butt, nicely outlined in a pair of worn jeans.
He smiled when she turned to him.
“Are you checking me out?”
“Maybe.”
“Thought you had a girlfriend.”
“I do. No harm in looking.” He popped the top and stared at her. He made a mental note to slow down on the beer, as he needed to work out the next day.
“Here, get a really good look,” Stormy said, pulling her hair back and thrusting her face at him. “You wanna know what happened? A guy hit me. That’s right. End of story.” She dropped the curtain of hair over her bruises and headed toward the refrigerator.
Devon grabbed her arm, stopping her.
“Ouch.”
He pushed up her sleeve to expose an angry red mark.
“Oh, I forgot that one,” she said, pushing away from him and yanking the fabric down again.
“Don’t be so defensive.”
“I know what you’re thinking.” Her eyes flashed attitude at him.
“No, you don’t.”
“Little slut got what she deserved,” Stormy spit out.
Devon stepped back as if he’d been slapped.
“That’s what my parents said,” she whispered. “I’m going to shut up now.”
Devon closed his long fingers over her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Stormy. Really sorry.”
Her clear blue eyes clouded, but the tense, drawn quality in her face relaxed. “It’s okay. They don’t hurt much anymore.”
“Where is this asshole?”
“A thousand miles away.”
He patted her unblemished cheek. “Good. Then I don’t have to kill him.”
Stormy smiled. “I’ve got a cake to frost.” She moved away to join Sam.
He returned to warm himself in front of the fire. His brow creased as he stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankle. His long fingers wrapped around the cold can of beer. When he finished the brew, he squashed the empty can and made tracks for the kitchen. “Anything I can do?”
“Nope. Dinner in five,” Samantha said.
He stopped at the door to throw a mischievous look at Stormy. “By the way, it wasn’t your face I was looking at.” He retreated to the living room to the sound of laughter.
Devon plopped down on the couch and rubbed his neck, attempting to ease the tension in the muscles. The Kings had fought like wild men to reach this point in their quest to capture the Super Bowl for the second year in a row. Coach Bass, usually relaxed around the team, had been increasingly moody and tense as the day of the big game drew near.
The footballer chuckled to himself. Coach was getting married after the season ended. Maybe that’s making him nervous. Jo Parker, Coach Bass’s fiancée, was one beautiful woman. He got goofy around her sometimes, making the team snicker and tease. The cornerback’s thoughts turned to his girlfriend. Why don’t I behave like that around Jackie?
Stormy came up behind him. He felt her fingers close on his shoulders and knead the tense flesh. He closed his eyes and gave himself up to the massage.
“God, you’re tight,” she muttered.
“Feels great.”
She shifted the pressure to her thumbs as she worked on the knots.
“You could do this for a living.”
She laughed. “I just do it for friends.”
A faint scent of something clean and fresh penetrated the mouth-watering aromas of dinner cooking and drifted to his nostrils. Stormy smelled good. Horniness reared up in Devon. The idea of pulling her onto the sofa for some hot lovemaking stirred his blood. She’s a friend. Can’t cheat on Jackie. Stormy probably doesn’t want to anyway. But any woman who could touch him like that made him wonder what she’d be like between the sheets.
He stood up before he did something inappropriate, like kissing her. “Thanks, that was great.”
“You’re welcome.”
With a touch of pink in her cheeks, she looked beautiful. Her slightly pouty lips drew his gaze. He forced himself to look up, but her clear blue eyes caught and held his. What the hell? The soulful look she sent him hinted at an unhappiness deep inside. He knit his brows, curious to know what was behind the sadness that seeped from her pores.
“Dinner,” Samantha hollered.
Devon followed Stormy to the kitchen. The table looked beautiful. Someone had taken a few, small, pine boughs from outside, woven them together, and created an artful centerpiece. The nice china and good silver that Sa
mantha had insisted he buy were on display, colorful and shiny. Sam has good taste.
A large pan of lasagna commanded center stage. A teak salad bowl sat at the other end. A basket of garlic bread rested opposite.
“Holy shit. This looks amazing.” Devon’s appetite for love would have to be satisfied with delicious food instead.
“No swearing,” Samantha admonished.
“Who are you, Mom? My house, my words.”
Sam shot him a sharp glance. They sat down and said grace.
“I didn’t know you could do stuff like that,” Devon said, indicating the centerpiece. “It’s nice.” He reached for the salad while his sister cut the pasta.
“Stormy did it.”
“Good job.” Devon gave her a brief nod then took a big helping of greens. His stomach responded to the tempting smell of his favorite ginger and sesame dressing.
“Salad?” He raised his eyebrows and looked to Stormy. She passed her plate.
Sam doled out portions of lasagna. Steam rose from the tantalizing main dish.
Devon took a deep breath and grinned. “You’re an amazing cook, Sam.”
“Stormy’s even better. She’s the one who got an A in home ec,” Samantha said, before shoveling a forkful of lettuce into her mouth.
Stormy blushed and ducked her head. “Am not.”
Talk was lost to the sound of chewing and the moans of pleasure as the meal was consumed. Devon was closer to Samantha than anyone else in their family. They were the last two, with a gap of ten years between him and the next sibling. Their parents had passed on, and the older sibs lived out West.
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