Game For Love: Love Games (Kindle Worlds)

by Mara Jacobs

  She didn’t want this man to see her holding hands with him. Who was this guy? A former lover? A current lover? The thought pissed Declan off, and he almost snatched her hand back, but he didn’t. He had pushed her far enough for today.

  Besides, there was no way the Marlee he’d gotten to know so well this week would be currently seeing someone while she and Declan were together. She was definitely the monogamous type. It didn’t even surprise Declan to discover that he was too. At least with Marlee.

  “Professor Curtis. How are you?” They had reached one another and the three stood facing each other. Marlee turned her body to form more of a semi-circle rather than standing side by side with Declan. The deft body language was not lost on him.

  “I’m fine, thank you. And yourself?” the man answered. The sentiment was directed at Marlee, but he was looking at Declan.

  “Fine. Fine.” Her voice was just a touch shrill. Marlee was never shrill. Declan wondered again if this was a former lover. Or maybe it was her boss, come to check up on her in the studio? Good thing the guy hadn’t arrived a half-hour earlier.

  “What brings you to this building?” His eyes didn’t leave Declan’s.

  “I’ve been using the video studio this week, preparing my speech.” She made some kind of movement to start out of the building, but was thwarted by the continued conversation of Professor Curtis.

  “That’s right, your tour starts next week, doesn’t it? Well, we’ll certainly miss you around the Communications Department this semester. Think of us back here fighting the cold when you’re at the University of Florida.” He hesitated, seeming to be waiting for something, and then held his hand out to Declan. “Robert Curtis. I’m in the Communications Department with Marlee.”

  Declan reached out his hand, but before he could speak his name, Marlee cut him off. “I’m sorry, where are my manners. Professor Curtis, this is Mr. Tate. Mr. Tate, Professor Curtis.”

  “Robert, please.” The man shook hands with Declan.

  “Declan.”

  Professor Curtis, easily in his early sixties, broke into the grin of a little boy meeting his hero. And perhaps he was. “I thought it was you, but for the life of me I couldn’t imagine what you’d be doing on campus. And with Marlee.” Marlee tried to interject, but the professor was now on a roll. “This is so exciting. I’m a huge fan, Declan, huge fan. God, that comeback against Green Bay in ’08? Gutsiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Declan noticed Marlee’s look of shock as her esteemed colleague gushed over meeting him.

  “Thanks, Robert. Always great to meet someone who loves the game.”

  He meant it as a jab at Marlee, and from her raised eyebrow, he knew she caught it. She ignored him and turned to Robert and tried to explain what to her was the unexplainable—what she and Declan were doing together. “Mr. Tate has been kind enough to help me interject some football terms into my speech. To make it more accessible to the general public.”

  As if he were some kid she’d hired to give her jargon advice! He was league MVP, for Christ’s sake! Declan’s eyes narrowed on her at her simplistic summation, but he didn’t know this guy’s relationship to Marlee, and if she wanted to play it cool with him, Declan wasn’t going to blow her cover. He was just about to engage the guy in deeper football talk—he knew all fans loved that—when Marlee started moving toward the door.

  “It was good to see you, Robert. Have a successful semester if I don’t see you when I’m in town.” She was out the door with Declan trailing after her. He had barely gotten out a goodbye to the poor guy, but the professor had a smile on his face so wide that Declan didn’t think he noticed.

  It was a nice perk that Declan never got tired of. It never failed to both excite and humble him. People always seemed so genuinely thrilled to meet him. Except for in Green Bay; they hated him there.

  They walked to the car, Marlee a few paces in front of him, not allowing him to even their paces. That alone was quite a feat, as Declan’s normal pace was nearly twice Marlee’s, despite her long, beautiful legs.

  “So what’s his deal?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Professor Curtis. You’re obviously uncomfortable around him. Old boyfriend? Boss? What?”

  She shook her head, looking confused that Declan would sense some kind of “thing” with Robert Curtis. “None of the above. He’s a fellow professor in the my department. I’ve known him for years. We’re not pals or anything, but we see quite a bit of each other in the offices. Nice man.” She waited at the door until Declan caught up to her and opened the door of his SUV for her.

  It wasn’t a long walk to the driver’s-side door after he placed Marlee in the vehicle, but a lot seemed to fall into place for Declan during the journey. He got a sick feeling in his stomach and hoped that he was wrong. But a nagging sensation that started in his gut told him he was right. Declan’s gut never lied.

  It wasn’t this Curtis guy she was uncomfortable about—it was him. Or, more precisely, the thought that one of her colleagues had seen her with him. She had obviously been trying to not introduce them, but the professor had taken matters into his own hands. And if he hadn’t, Declan had been about to.

  And that was also why she hadn’t used his first name when she’d introduced him. Mr. Tate. What kind of crap was that? Nobody had ever called him Mr. Tate, not even the rookies on the team or cub reporters asking for their first interview. She was hoping the professor wouldn’t know Declan by just his last name. And she’d certainly dropped their clasped hands fast enough.

  Declan remembered just how much physical contact there had been between them just a short while before meeting the professor. She hadn’t wanted to let go of him then. No, she had clung to him while she reached orgasm like he was her only safe harbor. And he’d thought that just maybe he was.

  The thought of Marlee being embarrassed by her relationship with him made him ache with sadness. He thought his temper would start to rage, but it didn’t even flare up. No, it was not anger he felt. Something else. Something inside of him shifted and he felt more pain than any quarterback sack had ever brought him.

  Here he was thinking he’d just made a major breakthrough with Marlee, and now he felt like they were back at the beginning. Worse than that, because at the beginning Declan hadn’t been in love with Marlee, and he was now.

  She didn’t want to be seen with him.

  A door seemed to shut somewhere as Declan drove them home. No, he had to stop thinking of it like that. It wasn’t his home. It was Marlee’s home. He was just a short-term guest.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Something was wrong with Declan. He’d been so sweet and tender in the studio and now he was barely speaking to her. They had both showered (separately, even though Marlee sexily hinted that it might save time to shower together), and were now downstairs preparing the meal.

  Declan was dressed in khakis and a green linen shirt that matched the green of his eyes. Marlee had put on some knit pants and a cream sweater set. The couple of times Marlee had started a conversation he’d shut her down with one-word answers, so she’d finally given up.

  He had sensed her unease when she introduced him to Robert, but he had interpreted it as something between herself and Robert, wondering if he were her boss or an old flame. She was content to let him think that what he sensed had to do with her and Robert, not her and Declan. After all, how could she make him understand something she was incapable of understanding herself?

  It had been an involuntary reflex; pulling her hand away from Declan’s when she saw Robert coming toward them. She had covered it well, and didn’t think Declan had even realized what she’d done.

  And she knew why she’d done it.

  When she’d been with Justin she’d been proud to show him off to her colleagues. Her. Someone who didn’t even follow baseball. But she thought she was with Justin for the long haul, thought they would marry.

  And beyond her devastation to find out he was ch
eating on her—regularly—she knew that her fellow staff members knew why they’d broken up. Maybe they’d even known Justin was a famous playboy. It might even have been a well-meaning colleague that had sent Marlee the link about Justin.

  Their breakup had made the gossip sites, too, even though Marlee had tried to stay away from Justin’s public life.

  On some level, she didn’t want her colleagues to know she was seeing another pro ball player. Like maybe she was some groupie or something.

  Or open herself up to another link sent to her with all of Declan’s sexual exploits. Especially since this thing with Declan was only supposed to be for a week. She really didn’t want to explain that to any of her coworkers.

  She knew it was unfair to paint Declan with the brush of Justin Jones. And although she’d grown to think of Declan as someone she could be happy with, have a future with, their clock was ticking.

  Declan had said himself their first night in this very kitchen that he wanted to settle down in a couple of years, when he had his future solidified. The more she got to know him, the less she thought he’d be happy in broadcasting. He didn’t mind being the center of attention when it was on the playing field, but she didn’t think Declan was really the type to seek out the limelight that would come with a career in the entertainment industry, even if it was sports related.

  So, even though he may not yet realize it, it may take him more than a couple of years to be at a place in his career where he felt able to focus on home and family. Realistically, Marlee didn’t want to wait that long for the possibility that she and Declan could have a future together.

  Back to square one, she lamented. A week of mind-blowing sex with Declan Tate. She should have been happy with just that. And she would have been had she not gotten a glimpse of what everyday life—cooking together in the kitchen, grocery shopping, lying in bed talking after exhausting lovemaking—with Declan could be.

  They moved around the kitchen in shared silence, each doing separate tasks to get the dinner prepared, Marlee lost in her thoughts of a future without Declan.

  Declan was still pissed about the hand-dropping incident. Mr. Tate? Christ! What was he, her father?

  What had been despair and hurt was now working its way into a full-blown snit. There were a million women out there who would give their silicone-injected breasts away to introduce him to someone as the guy they were sleeping with. Probably more than a million—the NFL was being broadcast in Asia and Europe now.

  But would any of those women want to spend a Friday night making vegetarian lasagna with him for family? Or would they want to be seen on his arm out of the spotlight? In a few years when he’d be yesterday’s news?

  And would any of those women make him feel as complete and peaceful as being with Marlee did?

  Just what was it? It was like she didn’t trust them as a couple, which didn’t make sense to him. She had trusted him enough to agree to videotaping themselves. They were so good together, and not just in bed, though making love with Marlee was incredible. Declan knew it was special, that he’d never find a partner like Marlee again. Partner. Yeah—that was how he’d come to think of her, as a partner. His partner.

  As if reading his mind, she handed him the strainer full of cooked lasagna noodles just as he was ready for them. Like a surgical nurse knowing every movement of the surgeon, anticipating his every need before he asked. That was the kind of pattern and rhythm he and Marlee had created. It seemed so natural and unforced because it was exactly that. Natural.

  Damn her for not seeing it too. It couldn’t possibly have been so comfortable so fast with anyone she’d ever been involved with before. Could it? Declan assumed not, because this feeling was so new to him. He knew damn well that no guy who smoked a pipe and wore a fedora had ever done the things with her in bed that she and Declan had done.

  He finished the lasagna and put it in the oven along with the first batch of cookies. It was a tight fit, but Marlee had a great oven.

  The exact same kind as his.

  Her family loved Declan. She shouldn’t have been surprised—he’d sure won her over fast—but she was. She hadn’t even realized they would know who he was. Her sisters hadn’t followed sports growing up either, but apparently when you gained a husband you also gained football.

  Her brothers-in-law were momentarily stunned when she introduced Declan to them all, but they regained their composure quickly and proceeded to maintain some level of dignity as they conversed with him.

  Her sisters were trying their hardest to get Marlee alone in the kitchen to get the scoop on why Declan Tate was in her living room and seemed very much at home there. Due to Declan being co-chef, he was in and out of the kitchen as well, and Marlee was only able to relate her meeting Declan and their subsequent cohabitation in bits and pieces. She figured that was just as well. She didn’t want to deal with any disapproval on their parts. Or warning her of her past mistake with Justin. Though it looked like anything but disapproval on her sisters’ faces as they practically devoured Declan with their eyes.

  No, it looked like appreciation. She certainly could understand that; she had a fine appreciation for the man herself.

  Her poor nephew was awe-struck, and in some weird twist of fate, was wearing his Boston Pumas jersey with Declan’s name and number on the back. Marlee hadn’t even realized he was a fan, but again, football was not a subject she often brought up with her nephew. The younger kids knew the name and thought it was cool that Aunt Marlee knew a Puma, but Brent was in heaven.

  Declan seemed to notice Brent’s inability to speak at meeting his hero, and quickly put the boy at ease. He put his arm around him and called him Hook, and when Brent didn’t understand, he pointed to the picture of a three-year-old Brent on the mantel.

  “God, Aunt Marlee, I’ve begged you to take that down. Now look what happened!”

  “Whoa, whoa, that’s your Aunt Marlee’s favorite photograph. She pointed it out the first time I was here. It means a lot to her.” He put his arm around Brent and said, in a conspiratorial, man-to-man kind of way, “You know how sentimental women can be. Cut her some slack. She’s an aunt, it’s her job to embarrass you. My aunt’s the same way.”

  Brent basked in the glow of sharing something—even an insensitive aunt—with the great Declan Tate. He seemed to grow from a gawky boy to a young man right before their eyes.

  Dinner was a controlled chaos, as it was bound to be when you had five children and six adults all enjoying good food and even better conversation. Declan asked all the adults about their work.

  Marlee was again amazed at how much he remembered from what she’d told him about her family. Larry and Charlie kept trying to steer the conversation back to Declan and would ask him about certain plays he made in games they remembered. Declan would always answer their questions, but would then ask one of his own about the kids or careers of the others.

  What had she expected? For Declan to sit back and hold court all through dinner about the time he threw a seventy yard pass…yada, yada, yada?

  That was exactly what Justin had done.

  Not that her family would have minded, but equal speaking time was had by all the adults. Declan saw to that.

  As the meal wound down, the kids excused themselves and then all but Brent went into Marlee’s den, where they knew she had a well-watched collection of children’s movies.

  It was the first time Marlee could remember Brent staying at the table after the other kids had gone to watch a movie. He couldn’t take his eyes off Declan, sat by him at dinner, hung on every word he said.

  She knew how he felt.

  Declan and she began to clear plates, but Brent put his arm on Declan’s to stop him. “It’s okay, Declan, I’ll help Aunt Marlee.” There was a sudden silence as all the adults, especially Brent’s parents Susan and Charlie, sat stunned. Declan thanked Brent and allowed the boy to help Marlee clear the table, joining his aunt in the kitchen.

  As soon as Marlee and Br
ent had left the living room and were out of earshot, Marlee’s oldest sister, Susan, spoke up. “Okay. First of all, thank you. It’s like pulling teeth to get that kid to do anything around the house, and even if it’s only to impress you, the fact that he volunteered to help out…well…I’d like to say I’m speechless, but of course I never am.” The others knowingly laughed as Susan continued, “Second of all…”

  “Watch out, Declan.”

  “Here she goes.”

  “I’m surprised she’s kept her mouth shut this long.”

  This came good-naturedly from Larry, Linda, and Charlie simultaneously, and instantly Declan had the lay of the family dynamic land. Susan was the leader. And apparently she called them as she saw them.

  “I’m not going to be as antiquated as to say what are your intentions toward our sister. But what exactly are your intentions toward our sister?” She had a smile on her face, was teasing Declan, but he knew there was a real concern. He was glad, in a way. It meant that Marlee’s family cared about her, cared what happened to her, cared about her future. So did Declan. Like he did in a game situation, he made a split-second decision to put his cards on the table. After all, if all went as he hoped, these people would be in his life, may even be family.

  He turned around to make sure the kitchen door was closed, that Marlee and Brent were still out of earshot. He looked each of them dead in the eye and let out a big sigh and came clean. “We met Sunday. Instant attraction. We’re both in town for short times, so we thought, hey, what the hell, let’s see all we can of each other while we can.” He let this sink in, waiting for their reaction. It was shock on their faces, all right, but Declan sensed that it was more from him being so honest with them then the fact that their younger sister had entered into an affair with a man she’d just met.