Fourth and Goal

by Jami Davenport

  "Neither am I, baby, neither am I.” Nothing made sense in his life but the sweet, giving woman lying next to him.

  She snuggled her soft, naked body against his bare chest. It felt so right, so perfect. He wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of his life, just like this. He didn't care if they had to live through a few years of being separated. Rachel wasn't his mother. She'd be faithful to him.

  The realization slammed the air from his lungs faster than a shot to the groin.

  He always had loved Rachel. Always would.

  And he knew what he was going to do about it, long-distance relationship be damned.

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  Chapter Thirty-four

  Fourth and Goal with Everything on the Line

  The next couple of days passed in a whirlwind. Rachel attended Ryan's memorial service with Derek. The cousins sang one of Ryan's favorite songs, not leaving a dry eye in the packed house, including hers and theirs.

  Derek and his teammates flew out the next day for the week of practice and festivities leading up to the game. The farm seemed deserted without him. Then Cass showed up on her doorstep.

  "I'm hopping a plane tomorrow for San Diego.” Cass swiped Charlie from his perch on a barstool and sat at the counter in Rachel's kitchen. Her blonde hair boasted streaks of blue and gold. Charlie stood near her feet and glared a deadly cat glare. His tail twitched indignantly, and Rachel suspected revenge scenarios ran through his mind. He'd never been fond of Cass.

  "You are? But you're not a cheerleader anymore.” Ironically the team had dismissed Cass when an old picture surfaced of her with Tyler, making it obvious they'd been an item. Yet at the time, they'd been broken up for a month.

  "I know. Ty invited me to the pregame festivities."

  "Ty? What about your boyfriend?"

  "He left town with a masseuse."

  Boy, was Rachel ever in the dark. She'd been so busy wallowing in her own self-pity she hadn't spent much time with Cass.

  "I was so through with him anyway when he suggested a threesome with another woman. Now another man—maybe.” Cass, typical flake, didn't seem the least bit affected by the loss of a man she'd professed to love a few months ago.

  Rachel kept her opinions to herself. Cass and Tyler. Together again. Two flakes who deserved each other, though lately she wondered if Cass deserved Tyler.

  "Hey, are you expecting a delivery?” Cass looked out the window from her vantage point at the kitchen counter.

  "Delivery?"

  "There's a florist's van outside."

  "Tyler probably tracked you down.” Rachel opened the door for the delivery man and gasped.

  "What is it?” Cass came up behind her. She stared in amazement. “Holy shit."

  "They have to be for you.” Rachel shook her head. The Jacks’ flashy quarterback never did anything halfway.

  Four delivery men marched into the house with dozens of red roses in blue and gold vases. They placed them on her kitchen counter. As they filed out, the last man handed her a white envelope with her name—not Cass's—on it.

  Holding her breath, Rachel pulled out a card with a Lumberjacks logo on the front. She opened it and recognized Derek's illegible scrawl.

  Rae, I can't play in the Big Game without you. I miss you. Derek

  Simple and to the point. So typical Derek.

  She pulled out several airline tickets, room reservations, and tickets for fifty-yard-line seats—one for each member of her immediate family, even her father.

  "That man loves you, especially if he's willing to tolerate your asshole brothers.” Cass grinned as she sniffed the roses.

  Rachel laughed. “I can't believe this."

  "Honey, the roses are red. Not white. Not yellow. Not pink. Red. You know what that means."

  "I doubt it means the same to Derek. Roses don't come in blue and gold.” Heck, he probably wanted to reinstitute their good-luck, pregame sex ritual.

  Charlie slinked across the floor and distracted her. He climbed into a large planter and proceeded to dig in the soft dirt. Satisfied, he sauntered toward them, leaving a trail of fresh dirt in his wake. What was that cat up to now?

  "I can't believe you're leaving Seattle.” Cass pouted and reapplied her lipstick.

  "I'm pursuing my dreams."

  "Pursue them here."

  Charlie took his cue and rubbed around Cass's legs. He possessed inbred cat radar and gravitated to the one person in the room who hated cats. Cass glared down at him. Charlie stretched upward, placed his paws on her white designer jeans, and left two tracks of mud down her legs.

  "You damn little bastard!” Cass shook him off her leg, but not before he had the last word. “Ouch! Shit! He dug his claws into me."

  Rachel shrugged and suppressed a smile. “Don't mess with him. He always wins in the end."

  "He's a feline terrorist. Look at the dog cowering in the corner."

  "He always cowers when Charlie's on the prowl."

  Cass huffed. “Whatever.” She cast one more murderous glare at Charlie, who ignored her as he cleaned his paws. “Ty says you're a lifesaver. You have him so organized he has free time for us."

  "I love doing their scheduling. I'm good at it.” Rachel swelled with pride.

  "But you're still leaving?” Cass scrubbed her jeans with a wet paper towel.

  "It's what I've always wanted to do."

  Cass's gaze flicked over her face. “You could do it here. In time, you'd find an opening with a college or even the Jacks."

  "I have to go. I'm committed. If I stay, it'll only trap Derek into something he doesn't want. I would never do that to him. He'd hate me."

  Cass looked pointedly at the roses and back to Rachel. “Something he doesn't want?"

  "Give it up, Cass."

  "So you're going through with this?"

  Rachel nodded her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. Charlie climbed into her lap. Purrs rumbled in his chest. She stroked his soft fur.

  Cass's skeptical expression said it all. “I need to go. I have tons of packing to do. I'll see you there."

  Rachel nodded.

  Cass shot one last zinger at her as she disappeared out the door. “Just remember, what about Rachel? What do you want?"

  What did she want? Weren't the toughest decisions always the right ones?

  She thought about her future. Really thought about it. Ever since Ryan's death, she'd spent a lot of time examining her life, her priorities, her needs and wants.

  She mourned for Ryan and for the loss of her relationship with Derek.

  She hadn't seen much of Derek except for the funeral. Organizing players’ calendars kept her busy night and day as everyone clambered for a piece of the Conference champions. How did he feel? What was the real message behind all these red roses? Did she dare hope?

  She stood on the edge of a cliff, water rushing through the canyon below. She could jump and pray she could swim to safety. Or she could back away and take the safe route. Her heart knew the answer, even as her head argued against it.

  What advice would her mother have given?

  She almost smiled as the answer came to her. Jump in with both feet, don't look back, and hold on with all you've got.

  Sneaking past the Secret Service to see the president would have been easier. Getting near Derek prior to the game was nearly impossible.

  Rachel and her family stayed at the same hotel as the team. She shared a double-queen room with Cass. Her family's rooms were one floor down, along with Derek's and Tyler's families.

  Throughout the next few days, she had fleeting glimpses of him. Once he caught her eye, waved, and winked as a crowd of reporters and team officials swept him into the hotel elevator. She attended the Super Bowl festivities with her family and Cass, who wasn't having any luck getting near Tyler either.

  Derek called her late every night, talking slow and quiet so he didn't wake Tyler. His sexy voice was tinged with weariness. She begged him to get l
ots of sleep. He promised he would. He wanted to win the Lombardi trophy for Ryan. The whole team did.

  If she'd been confused before, being here in the midst of all the hype and chaos didn't clarify her future. In fact, it clouded it.

  As if it wasn't confusing enough, she ran into Derek's agent in the lobby that morning. He wanted to talk about a possible affiliation with his agency.

  She loved juggling the guys’ schedules, the challenge of satisfying everyone involved, especially when it came to the kids. Nothing beat seeing the smiles on terminally ill kids’ faces when a player surprised them in their hospital room. Could she make a career out of being a handler? At least for the immediate future? She'd been approached by more players this week and put them on hold.

  She had a lot of thinking to do.

  Derek flopped on the bed in the hotel room. “Shit, I'm wiped. I had no idea the league would own us all week long.” Wearing nothing but sweats, he threw his hand over his head and squinted at the overhead light, nursing a brain burner of a headache.

  "I'm fucking loving it.” Tyler stretched on the opposite bed and grinned. His eyes sparkled with excitement. He flipped through the channels, looking for clips from the day's events.

  "I'm sure you are.” The limelight energized Tyler, while it wore Derek down.

  "Hey, what time is it?” Tyler sat up and swung his feet to the floor in one swift, fluid motion.

  "Why do you keep asking me that?"

  "Because I'm sneaking downstairs to meet Cass."

  "Whatever happened to the boyfriend?"

  "I'm the boyfriend. So cover for me; I need to ease a little tension."

  "This isn't high school. If you sneak out, you're on your own. HughJack will have your head.” Derek could use a little tension relief himself.

  "He won't know, just snore loud enough for both of us. She's sharing a room with Rae."

  "So now you're into exhibitionism?"

  "Nope, I'm sending Rachel down here.” Tyler winked at him.

  "Then what are you waiting for? Get your ass out of here.” Derek lobbed a pillow at Tyler's head, and it came zipping back at him. He ducked.

  A couple of minutes later a knock sounded at the door. He yanked it open and pulled Rachel inside. Plastering her against the door, he kissed her with every bit of passion and feeling he possessed.

  "Wow. Have you missed me?” Rachel drew back, hands on Derek's broad shoulders, and took a moment to admire his naked body, a hobby she'd never get tired of.

  "You have no idea. It's been one weird-assed week.” He nibbled on her earlobe. “Damn, I need to lose myself inside you."

  "Well, Alice, how are things down the rabbit hole?” She massaged his tight neck.

  "Strange and getting stranger."

  "Hmmm. Thanks for the tickets, the roses, everything. My brothers might even rescind the bounty on your head."

  "I'd like that. It's tough being a hunted man."

  "I doubt I'm here just so you can earn points with my brothers. Care to enlighten me?"

  "I wanted you here.” He didn't disguise the stark need in his eyes. They'd progressed way beyond that. No more pretending.

  "So we could sleep together before the game?"

  "Hey, it's worked before, though I don't think sleep is an accurate term.” He grinned. “And the game doesn't get any bigger than this."

  Rachel leaned into him, fisting her hands in the curling hair on his chest. She rubbed her hips against his, sliding her stomach over his erection. He sucked in a breath. She backed him up to the bed, pushing him down onto the soft mattress. Rachel fell on top of him, her mouth all over his. She gave as good as she got, her kisses hot and demanding.

  He surprised her by pulling back, his eyes glimmering with a wicked light. Oh man, how she loved it when he got that look.

  "You know, beds are highly overrated.” He gestured toward the sliding glass doors opening onto a somewhat private balcony.

  Her eyes opened wide. “There?"

  He nodded. “Under the stars. In the warm night. No one will see."

  "And if they do?"

  "We're ten stories up. My teammates should be in bed. We'll be quiet."

  "And if we aren't?” Her arguments were for argument's sake. She'd already warmed to the idea. Little thrills of pleasure thrummed through her.

  He stood and picked her up in his arms. She helped him out by yanking open the patio door. A cool breeze blew in off the ocean, but the night was still warm. He turned her so she faced the patio railing while he stood behind her.

  "Hang on tight, baby."

  Rachel bent down and grabbed a couple of rungs of the railing. Derek moved behind her. He slipped his hands underneath her and pushed her t-shirt and bra upward, baring her breasts. His fingers tugged at her nipples. He rolled each nipple in between his forefingers and thumbs. His talented fingers teased with just the perfect amount of pressure.

  Rachel moaned and pushed back against him, rubbing her jeans-clad butt against his crotch. Below her, cars pulled up to the hotel, people came and went. Taxis waited for their next fare. They were too far up for anyone to make out their faces or body parts even if they happened to look upward. Still, the excitement of doing it in a somewhat public setting heightened the urgency of the act. The scent of salt air mixed with asphalt assailed her senses.

  Leaving her nipples sore and aching for his touch, he unzipped her jeans and slid them down her legs. Her underpants came next.

  A couple of fingers slipped inside her, testing her wetness, only to be replaced a second later by something harder and more substantial. She sighed as his cock filled her, absorbing all the empty places. No tender, sweet lovemaking tonight. His tension told the story of a body held tightly under control, of barely leashed passion. She'd unsnap that leash and set him free. Set them both free.

  "Show me what it feels like to make love to a Super Bowl winner."

  "We haven't won yet."

  "You will. Now show me."

  With an animal growl, he withdrew and plunged into her with a fury as he released the physical and emotional tension racked up over the past week. He pounded into her as she gripped the balcony rungs. His cock rode high inside her. One of his hands snaked underneath her body and fingered her clit. She shuddered and closed her eyes, listening to the slapping of their bodies, his grunts, her gasps. Her body shook. Her knees weakened. Her heart raced.

  She loved this man. Loved everything about him. Loved how he could be so tender at times and so crazed at others. He took her higher and higher, breaking her body into millions of parts that came together with him into a larger whole. She'd only be complete with him. Her body knew what her heart worked so hard to deny.

  With a final groan, he leaned over her, holding her tight against him.

  Below them, life went on about its business. But on a balcony on the tenth floor, life would never be the same for either of them.

  "If you've just joined us, welcome to our coverage of the Super Bowl. The underdog Seattle Lumberjacks versus the highly favored, undefeated Boston Rebels.” Bob Conlon sat in the announcer's booth overlooking the football stadium and consulted his notes. Below him, pregame festivities shifted into high gear.

  "Bob, a lot of people are asking why the Jacks are wearing number thirteen on their jersey sleeves.” His broadcasting partner, Chris Mackey, paused and waited for the answer.

  "Chris, as you know, it's in honor of a local Seattle high school football star, Ryan DeGrazio, who lost his battle with cancer two weeks ago at the age of seventeen.” Everyone loved a good human interest story, especially one like this. The broadcast showed a picture of DeGrazio in his days as a high school quarterback.

  "I understand he became something of a team mascot. He attended every home game the second half of the season."

  "The team has dedicated the Super Bowl to Ryan.” They flashed to a clip of Ryan in his wheelchair hugging Derek after they won their first play-off game.

  "A brave young man
who made a mark on every life he touched."

  "That he did."

  The cameras panned to Derek and Tyler walking out to the center of the field, fully suited up and sans helmets.

  "Now here's a special treat and a closely guarded secret leading up to this Super Bowl. Derek Ramsey and Tyler Harris will be singing ‘The Star Spangled Banner.’ Let's listen."

  Derek took a deep breath. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Damn, he was nervous. Not just about singing but everything—the game, the aftermath, everything. The pressure squeezed the air out of his lungs like an elephant sitting on his chest.

  Tyler stood beside him, flashing his trademark grin for the international audience. If he felt the same inner turmoil, you couldn't tell. He was as cool as ice cubes in a freezer. Tyler ate up the attention like a starving dog being thrown a steak.

  Why Derek had agreed to sing and add additional stress to an already stress-filled day, he sure as hell didn't know. Call him a fucking idiot.

  As they each took a mike, Tyler elbowed him and bounced on the balls of his feet, keyed up and ready for action. “Ready?"

  "As much as I'll ever be."

  "Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ sang by Lumberjacks players, Tyler Harris and Derek Ramsey."

  The crowd hushed and rose as one. Derek and Tyler put their hands over their hearts. Tyler nodded. In unison, they sang the national anthem just like they'd rehearsed it, straight from the heart, no artistic renditions. They belted it out as Francis Scott Key meant for it to be sung. Derek didn't forget the words, thank God, and his voice didn't crack.

  As they sang the final note, the din of the crowd deafened them. Adrenaline rushed through Derek, transforming pregame nerves into anticipation. This was it. The day every football player dreamed of, and he was living the dream. Only a few short months ago, he'd been close to giving it up.

  The Jacks won the toss and elected to receive.

  The entire team gathered together in a huddle on the sidelines with Tyler in the center. He pointed to the heavens, then looked each teammate in the eye. “This one's for Ryan!"

  They stuck their hands into the center of the circle, big meaty lineman's hands, smaller punter's hands, hands in gloves, hands wrapped with tape, one hand with a finger in a splint. All these different men of different ethnicities and different backgrounds together for one purpose—one goal. Above the crowd's roar, they shouted as one: “For Ryan!"