The Bombshell Effect

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The Bombshell Effect Page 10

by Karla Sorensen


  Sweet, lake-scented air filled my lungs to capacity, and his face relaxed when I blew it out through my lips.

  “Good.” His hands loosened but stayed on my upper arms. “One more for me.”

  My eyes burned at the way his fingers curled over my skin. In the past two weeks, I’d shaken countless hands, but no one had hugged me since Paige, since the day I left Milan after receiving the news of my father’s heart attack.

  I was closer to Luke now, by a single step, and clutching my hands in tight fists between us, but the soft cotton of his shirt brushed against the skin of my knuckles. Through that flimsy layer, I could feel the heat of him, warmth projecting outward from his body as if he was his own furnace.

  And he was tall. Luke was so much taller than I was when I wasn’t wearing shoes. Tilting my chin up, I looked into his face while he watched me breathe again. Slowly, my limbs snapped back into place, woven together by each deep pull of oxygen. Each block of sanity stacked back where it was supposed to go.

  “It’s okay to be pissed,” he said in a low, soothing voice. “I’m pissed at him too. I hate that guy, and he twisted what I said into something I did not mean.”

  Looking away from him proved impossible, so I stood there in the dark, with his hands on my arms and his eyes trained on mine with unwavering intensity.

  What in the fresh hell was happening right now?

  He spoke again when I didn’t. It was all I could do to keep breathing. “I’m sorry, Allie. All I said to him was that unless he asked me about football, I wasn’t interested in any other distractions.” He pinched his eyes shut. “Or something. I can’t even remember. But it was more about him than you.”

  In the wake of his apology, which felt honest and direct with no wasted words or flowery excuses, I felt the frantic energy drain from me completely as if someone had siphoned it out.

  “I can’t have you making this any harder than it already is,” I told him wearily. “And trust me when I say this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

  His entire frame moved closer, tiny fractions with each movement of his feet, but the space all but disappeared. Underneath his massive palms and long fingers, my skin was warm and dry. When his hands moved an inch up, down, that heat spread everywhere.

  I wanted him to fold me up in his arms, which made no sense. But his steady instructions, the way he snipped off the wild edge of my panic with only a few words, and the smell of him all around me made me want to curl into him like a milk-sated kitten and sleep against the warmth of his skin.

  “I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted, even closer yet. If I tilted my forehead down an inch or two, it would be resting against his chest. I’d feel his heartbeat. “Which is very unlike me, I can promise you that.”

  I shifted my shoulders, only the slightest wiggle, and his fingers were more fully on my back.

  “Luke,” I whispered, unsure of what I wanted, what I was asking, what I was even feeling. I lifted my eyes and met his, and he must have read the blur of my thoughts as it pinged back and forth between confusion and yearning, frustration and desire.

  Because even in the dark, I could see all those things reflected in the way his eyes zeroed in on my lips. They opened slightly as if he’d used the tip of his finger to drag them open.

  Instantly, he dropped his hands and stepped back. My shoulders were cold, despite the heat still clinging to the air around us. As if he was embarrassed, Luke rubbed the back of his neck.

  “I know it doesn’t help now, but even if I was furious with you, even if I thought it, I’d never say something like that about you to a reporter. About anyone who’s part of the team.”

  Part of the team.

  I blinked furiously against the uncomfortable lump of tears at the back of my eyes because it went a small way in warming where he’d held me. With the decision to stay, I was certainly part of something much bigger than myself. And I was just understanding the emotional ramifications of what that meant. What it could mean.

  “It helps,” I conceded quietly.

  “I’ll be more careful next time.” His mouth curved into a wry smile. “Or I’ll shut up entirely.”

  I nodded, appreciative of his attempt at humor even if I wasn’t ready to smile back. “I know you’re aware of the size of this story, but I’m aware of how many people would delight in seeing me fail, Luke.”

  He sobered. “I wouldn’t.”

  “No?”

  With a tightly clenched jaw, he looked over at the lake before he spoke again. “No. Because if you fail, it means we’ve done something wrong too. And that’s not the kind of team we are. We support our own.”

  Gratitude was a soothing blanket around my shoulders, warming me to my very soul instead of just the surface of my skin.

  I risked a small smile, just to see how it would feel on my face. “Even if that means you have to do the Sports Illustrated thing?”

  The hand on his neck dropped, and he shrugged. A tiny movement made by huge, muscular shoulders made my smile grow.

  “Owning the Wolves may be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but an interview is that for me. I’ll hate every minute of it.”

  “Hate is a strong word,” I told him, studying and weighing the honesty of what he’d just said.

  His mouth relaxed, but he didn’t smile. “It’s the right word. Unfortunately, I have a bit of a reputation when it comes to dealing with the media.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Because I don’t.” When I didn’t say anything, he sighed. “Deal with the media. I just don’t.”

  “How come?” I risked asking. The likelihood that Luke would answer me felt about as slim as me fitting into a size zero. But this man, so big and strong, sweet with his daughter and cold when he thought someone was infringing on his life with her, was one of the most fascinating people I’d ever met.

  After a few moments, Luke gave me a guarded look. “I’ve been burned before, let’s just say that. Whether I answered or not wouldn’t have made a difference; it only would’ve made things worse.”

  I tilted my head. “You didn’t want to defend yourself?”

  “You reach a point in this industry,” he answered carefully, “when you realize that hitting back at the people who say shit about you is a really easy way to waste your time. I’d rather use my time to be a better player. A better father. Everything else is just noise.”

  My heart turned over, the fascination growing in erratic pulses that stretched along my skin.

  Of course, I kept that off my face when I spoke again, all cool and casual. “Even with all that, you’re still willing to do the interview?”

  His eyes traced my face. Just a quick glance, but it touched every part twice. It lingered longest on my mouth, and I struggled to breathe properly.

  “Hopefully it doesn’t kill me,” he said quietly.

  Stepping back but still facing him, I pursed my lips and embraced the fragile sense of playfulness between us. As if I’d caught the edge of a butterfly with the tips of my fingers, and it was desperately trying to fly away. “Well, then you just leave it to me. I’ll make it bearable.”

  Without waiting for his reaction, I spun toward the hedge, but not before I heard his muted reply.

  “I guess we’ll see about that.”

  12

  Luke

  There were moments in a man’s life when his pride must be swallowed down like a lumpy sock of coal. One of those moments was when his six-and-a-half-year-old daughter somehow manipulated him into a pool party with his boss/neighbor/star of the dream he had the night before but was actively trying to forget because it involved her in a bikini.

  The day had started innocuously enough. The weather was beautiful and bright and hot. My mom didn’t feel well, so I did my workouts from home, had a phone meeting with my offensive coordinator, and promised Faith we could go swimming.

  Strictly following the house rule that she wasn’t allowed in the pool if no adult was ou
tside with her, she waited patiently on a patio chair while I ran inside to change into my board shorts and grab the sunscreen.

  And that was when everything fell off the rails.

  Because my evil genius daughter saw Allie sunbathing in her backyard, walked through the hedge, and must have begged her to come sit by our pool so that she could get in, thereby skirting around my absence and winning some quality time with the neighbor she clearly idolized.

  That was the scene I walked outside to, folks. Allie sitting on the top step of my pool, wearing a slim cut red suit that looked nothing like the bikini she’d had on in my dream, and my daughter tossing a beach ball at her while they both laughed.

  I had to pause and make sure I was awake because my dream had started in an almost identical way.

  “Daddy!” Faith squealed from the water. “Miss Allie came swimming with me!”

  “I see that,” I said mildly.

  Allie’s hair was twisted up in a wet knot at the top of her head as she glanced between Faith and me. “I’m sorry, she asked if I could sit here because there’s supposed to be an adult outside when she’s swimming.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Faith, who beamed at Allie as if she’d just single-handedly given her the keys to Disneyland or something.

  “She’s right about that,” I answered. “But I was just popping inside to change.”

  Allie wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and her eyes tripped down my bare chest before quickly darting away.

  She started to stand. “I can go.”

  “Noooo,” Faith pleaded. Oh great, she pulled out the puppy dog eyes. They were practically a weapon of mass destruction when she unleashed them on someone who wasn’t used to their power. “Can you stay for like, twenty minutes? Or maybe just an hour?”

  Allie laughed at the clear misjudgment of time increments, and I rubbed the back of my neck. I wish I’d slipped on my sunglasses so that my eyes would have some sort of barrier, some way to block Allie from seeing where I was looking.

  I didn’t want to be looking at her. Truly.

  But as much as I’d been able to ignore the foggy remnants of my dream all morning, it was all but impossible now.

  In the dream, we hadn’t touched. Not once. I woke up before it could happen, but it didn’t lessen the impact. All I could remember now was how her slender fingers had worried the knot of her bikini where it tied behind her smooth, sleek back.

  The way she looked over her shoulder at me and started pulling at the string.

  “Twenty minutes,” Allie told Faith, and my daughter smiled happily. “If that’s okay with your dad,” she said, glancing at me again.

  As if I’d be able to kick her out and not have a mopey daughter to deal with for the rest of the day. But I was grateful Allie was asking my permission anyway.

  I cleared my throat and set the tube of sunscreen down on the patio table. “Fine with me.”

  Faith dunked her head under water and doggy paddled over to the steps by Allie. Her waterproof pink cast looked wavy and distorted under the water but barely hampered her movements. Wouldn’t it be nice if adults were so adaptable?

  For instance, I should be able to adapt to Allie’s presence, right?

  By now, I knew she was beautiful, and I understood and accepted that she was in my life even though to what capacity was still a bit murky. So I should be able to just … deal with it.

  “I’m going to be in second grade,” Faith announced as soon as she swiped the water from her face.

  Allie smiled at my daughter. “Yeah? You’re gettin’ pretty old, huh?”

  “Did you like second grade?” Faith asked.

  And thus the tone of this little impromptu pool party was set. Faith peppering Allie with question after question, each answered patiently and honestly, and not once did she look uncomfortable or annoyed.

  No, that role was left for me.

  I was more than uncomfortable because I was completely superfluous to everything that was going on. All I could do was sit at the edge of my pool, watching my daughter interview Allie with the skill of Barbara Walters, and try very much not to stare at the way Allie’s bare legs swished back and forth under the water.

  “What’s your favorite flower?”

  Allie tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Pink tulips.”

  “Really? Mine are daisies. Those are kinda like tulips.”

  I smothered my smile before Allie or Faith could see it because my daughter’s clear insistence to form a connection with this woman was in every answer, no matter what Allie said.

  Allie’s favorite season was fall, and Faith’s was spring, which both had leaves in it.

  Allie’s favorite color was blue, and Faith’s was pink, and those were really, really close because they used them in Sleeping Beauty for Aurora’s dress.

  Allie’s middle name was Leanne, and Faith’s was Kathryn, which both had the letter ‘n’ in it.

  Etcetera, etcetera, and we kept doing that for eighteen more minutes.

  This was something I could adapt to. Surface level questions answered quickly and easily, and nothing about it shifted my perception of who Allie was as a person.

  Then, with roughly two minutes left, Faith went in for her kill shot.

  “Did you go to the same school I go to, Miss Allie?”

  That long, tan leg stopped moving under the water, and Allie peered thoughtfully at my daughter.

  It was the kind of question that should have been answered with the same ease as the others, but she took a deep breath, making her slim shoulders rise up and then down.

  I forced my eyes away because I didn’t want to be dissecting her body language.

  “I didn’t.” She cleared her throat and tucked a non-existent hair behind her ear. “I actually went to a school where you sleep over.”

  Faith’s eyes widened. “You sleep at the school?”

  I leaned back and watched with unfolding interest, somewhere in my brain noting that this was a piece of the Allie puzzle that I might not want to know about.

  Allie nodded. “I was a few years older than you, and my father thought it would be good for me to go to that kind of school. It’s called a boarding school.”

  “Whoa,” Faith breathed, no longer moving in the pool. “Can I go to a boarding school, Daddy?”

  “No way,” I said instantly, then gentled my tone when they both looked at me with surprise. “I’d miss you too much, turbo.”

  Allie swallowed and looked away, out at the lake, when it dawned on me how that might have sounded. I would miss Faith too much if I sent her away. Which might have felt like Robert didn’t miss his own daughter because he did make that choice.

  Shit, I thought in my head. This twenty minutes would completely upset the balance of whatever we’d figured out the night before.

  The second I laid my hands on her, it started a new trajectory, something that I no longer controlled. Just like right now.

  “I’d miss you too, Daddy,” Faith said happily. “But sleeping over at school would be so fun.”

  She dunked her head under water again, which was why she probably didn’t notice that Allie didn’t agree with her.

  But I noticed.

  And I hated it.

  Allie slid her hands along the tops of her sun-kissed thighs and gave me a tiny smile. “Well, I think my twenty minutes are up.”

  I nodded. “I’m sure she’ll try to get another round out of you if you’re still here when she comes up for air.”

  She laughed. “She’s a great kid, Luke.”

  Faith came up and sputtered water from her lips, which made me smile.

  “She’s the best kid,” I answered easily. It wasn’t hard to say out loud, partially because I was biased, but if I took my own issues with Allie out of the equation, I was really damn proud that my daughter was being kind and curious and sweet with a new neighbor.

  “Do you have to go, Miss Allie?” Faith asked.

  Allie glanced at me and pinched
her lips between her teeth to keep from laughing. She nodded. “I do, honey. But thank you for inviting me over. I had a lot of fun.”

  “Me too.” She sighed.

  When Allie stood, I could practically hear the soundtrack in my head to the slow unfolding of her swimsuit-clad body, which I’d see in only a few short hours at the photo shoot. What would she be wearing there?

  She took a deep breath and looked at me for a long second. “I’ll see you later.”

  Without waiting for a response, she winked at my daughter and went back into her own yard.

  I didn’t watch her walk away.

  Refused to admit I wanted to.

  The truth was that I still wasn’t quite sure what to do with Allie Sutton.

  13

  Luke

  “I hate preseason,” Jack muttered. “Sitting on the bench makes me twitchy.”

  My smile came easily even though we’d lost our first game because I did too. We weren’t supposed to say it out loud—telling our fans and the media that the practice was essential, that seeing the younger, more inexperienced players out on the field gave us a chance to watch how they performed.

  But as the starting quarterback, I was forced to prowl the sidelines uselessly, feeding my backups play calls through a headset while watching them with a burning under my skin to be the one out on the field. It was clear enough why I couldn’t be, the risk of injury in a game that didn’t matter was too great, but that didn’t stop the drive for me to sprint out there anyway.

  Instead of inflating Jack’s tirade, which had lasted our entire drive to the damned photoshoot and interview, I punched him in the shoulder. “Necessary evil, and you know it. They’ll never get rid of it.”

  We’d decided to drive together since they really only needed us for the interview portion. Ava texted me earlier that we were combining the shoot and the interview because of Allie’s idea for behind-the-scenes footage, which meant we’d have to look like we weren’t complete slobs.

  “I hate interviews,” I told him. “Since we’re in a sharing mood.”

 

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