“I noticed you didn’t hold back,” he says. “You just can’t admit that you like me, can you?”
“Very funny,” she says, enjoying his touch and wanting him to kiss her again. She’s been waiting for that kiss all night.
“Elle,” he says softly. “I really like you. Just give me a chance . . . give us a chance.”
She looks at him, not wanting to lose Ty or what they share, but she also knows the consequences of dating a man who spends half his time on the road. “I don’t want to waste your time or mine.... That’s all. We both have commitments, or I did have a commitment to the team, and that is the number-one priority, right?”
“That’s what I like about you, Elle. You understand my job, and you’re fun to be around. I don’t know why we have to fight what we both feel,” he says. “I can be myself around you.”
She looks at him and observes the inside of his clean truck and his beautiful eyes, his sweet scent.... How can she not find him irresistible? She is falling in love with him, and as much as she is trying to resist him, she gravitates more toward him and doesn’t know why.
“Let me walk you to your door,” he says, getting out of his truck. “I want to make sure you get in safe.”
“Are you sure that’s all you want?” She jumps out of his truck and shuts the door behind her. “I’m quite aware of my surroundings tonight,” she says, trying to make light of it.
“Just say the word and I’m yours,” Ty says, grabbing her hand as they walk to the entrance. Ty follows her into the building and up to her suite.
“What makes a guy like Ty Caldwell want to commit to a relationship? Doesn’t he have a list of women he plans to get with?”
Ty smiles as they wait for the elevator. “You’re the only one on my list.”
Eileen smirks as they walk into the elevator and presses the button. “Is that how you get women into bed with you? Tell them what they want to hear?”
“No,” he says sharply. “I’m not like that.”
“You’re not?”
“No, I have more class than that.”
They walk out of the elevator and down the hallway. “Really? Or is it a lack of women in your little black book?” she teases, getting her keys out of her purse.
“No, really,” he says, trying to sound convincing. “Since you’ve been playing hard-to-get.”
She turns her key in the lock of her front door. “Now that you have what you want, how does that change things?”
“You’re admitting that we’re dating now? That’s good news and I’m sure the newspapers will love to hear about it.” He steps inside.
“Can we keep it under wraps for a while? I’d like to go to work in peace.”
“I think I can manage it,” he says.
Eileen walks into her kitchen and stands on her tippy toes to reach for the top cupboard. She doesn’t see what she’s looking for, so she pushes herself up onto the counter. Ty watches her from the corner, staring at her with arms crossed like he’s admiring what he’s seeing. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“I’m looking for a bottle of wine. I’m sure it’s up here somewhere.”
“Here, let me help you,” he says as he reaches a hand in the cupboard by her head. “Is this it?” He pulls out a bottle of merlot without any effort.
“That’s it. I don’t know how good it is—it’s been up there for a while.”
“I couldn’t tell.” He blows dust off the bottle and puts it down to grab hold of her small waist, taking her into his arms. She puts her hands on his broad shoulders until she has two feet firmly on the ground. “Where are your glasses?”
She pulls out two wineglasses. “They’re a little dusty too. I’ll give them a rinse,” she says and places them under the tap to clean them off.
“You don’t drink at home?” he asks, opening drawers, looking for a wine bottle opener.
“Not very often,” she admits, drying off the glasses with a tea towel. Eileen knows what he’s looking for, so with a glass in hand, she points and says, “The wine opener is in that drawer.”
With little effort, he opens the wine and pours two generous glasses, handing one to her.
They settle in the living room. Eileen lies against Ty as though he’s a recliner chair, holding her glass of wine up to her mouth. It’s a blissful moment, and even though she lost her dream job, she has a dream guy. What more does she want? She still has her skating classes and potentially a franchise. What else does she need?
Ty brings his lips to her neck, kissing her in a delicate motion. A ray of goose bumps covers her arms and she squirms with enjoyment, trying not to laugh too hard.
“Looks like I found a ticklish spot,” he says and kisses her again.
“I’m going to have to put my glass down if you keep doing what you’re doing.”
He takes the glass from her hand and sets it down on the coffee table. Ty then leans in to her and kisses her mouth.
She closes her eyes, rolling her head to one side, letting him kiss her more and explore her neck, feeling the rush of satisfaction come over her. Slowly he pulls off her shirt and kisses her shoulders, then her neck and the tops of her breasts. She can’t stop him. Even if she tries, she loves the way he loves her—it feels right.
Ty lies down on the couch, pulling her on top of him, running his hand through her hair and kissing her deeply on the mouth. His hands run along the sides of her body and land on her back, securing her delicately against his hard chest. Their noses are barely touching when Ty whispers warmly, “I’m falling in love with you.”
She bites her bottom lip. How does she agree when she’s so scared of losing him?
He sweeps his fingers along the full length of her arm. Nervous maybe? Certainly he’s said these words before.
He swallows hard and she watches his Adam’s apple move up and down. “I think we have something special,” he whispers. “Don’t you?” He leans into her and begins kissing her earlobes and trailing his lips down her neck. Eileen grabs for his shirt and lifts it up, dying to feel the ripples of his well-worked muscles. He helps her accomplish her goal by reaching his hands across him and pulling off his shirt without doing a full sit-up.
She presses against him so she can be held and he kisses her passionately on the mouth, giving into her puckered lips and active hands that can’t seem to hold still. She wants to feel all of him again, so she takes charge and opens his button, running her finger along his boxers. He continues to kiss her, caressing her body and running his fingers through her long, brunette hair. With one hand, he unclasps her bra and throws it to the floor. Her body tingles as he runs his smooth hand over her breasts before kissing each one. He slides off her jeans, getting to the moment neither one of them can resist. And as their kisses become more heated, their bodies connect in a way that is desperate and beautiful.
Yes, Eileen thinks. I’m so in love.
Chapter 17
A guilty pleasure. That’s what Ty is, Eileen tells herself over and over again. In the heat of the moment she admitted she was falling in love with him, not because it was automatic, like saying, “I’m fine” when someone asks how you are. It came naturally. Eileen rubs her forehead in frustration. Feeling tired and bogged down at work, she tries to think straight. Her job depends on a clear mind, and yet Ty has consumed her once again.
She sits at her kitchen table, on the phone. “Uncle Gary, are you sure that Ritchie is not back at work?” she asks hopefully.
“I’m positive, Elle. I haven’t seen him. I haven’t been kept in the loop the past week. I asked Steve and he says Ritchie is not back at work.”
“That’s funny. Do you think there’s more to the story than what they’re telling me?”
“Could be, but I don’t know for sure. Give it a few days and see. I’m sure Ritchie is just easing himself into things.”
“Yeah, I guess. Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon,” Eileen says and hangs up the phone.
“I don’t believe
it,” she whispers to herself as she searches the Internet for the Vancouver Daily newspaper’s phone number. There has to be more to the story. She deserves to know the truth.
Eileen opens up a notebook and taps the pen on her paper, anxiously wanting to know what is going on with Ritchie Forbes. “Bill Braxton, please,” Eileen asks when she gets the receptionist.
“One moment,” the female voice says and transfers her call. After two rings, a man picks up.
“Bill Braxton here.”
“Hi, Bill. It’s Eileen Francis calling, the Warriors skating coach?” she says and then corrects herself, “or I mean ex-skating coach.”
“Yes, hi, Eileen,” Bill says. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got a problem and I’m hoping you may have an answer for me,” she says, doodling on the page in front of her, suddenly nervous. “As you probably already know, I’m no longer the skating coach and the reason I was let go was that Ritchie has come back to work. However, I have tried to get in touch with Ritchie, but I am put directly to his voice mail and he doesn’t return my calls. So I asked a dependable source and he says he was told that Ritchie is still not back from his leave. I want to find out the real reason they let me go, but I haven’t had any luck with finding out an answer and I suspect there is more to the story.”
“Huh, well, neither Steve nor Rick ever mentioned it to me when we were talking yesterday.”
“It’s like they’re covering something up. I don’t know what, but I would love to find out.”
“It does sound a little sketchy. When did this happen?”
“After practice Wednesday.”
“You instructed a practice and then they let you go?”
“Yes.”
“What was the reason?”
“Ted told me he didn’t have to give me one, and Rick said it’s because Ritchie is coming back to work.”
“I see,” Bill says.
“And Ted said that in this business it has nothing to do with feelings and is all about sacrifice.”
“Is that so?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What does your contract say?”
Eileen lets out a heavy breath, disappointed in herself for not signing one. Nick was right, she should have. “I didn’t sign one,” she says with irritation.
“They usually work from contracts,” Bill says. “I can definitely look into this. And there was no indication from the beginning that this position was for a short period of time?”
“No, I mean I knew I was covering Ritchie’s position for at least eight weeks, but not less than that.”
“Right. Well, I’ve never seen them do this before. Why do you suppose they’ve let you go? Do you have any idea?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out. I did a good job. I was loyal. My only guess is that it’s because I’m female,” she says. “I just don’t understand.”
“They knew your gender when they hired you. That can’t be the reason,” he says confidently. “And you’re sure Ritchie isn’t back?”
“Yes. Like I said, I spoke to someone—”
“Your uncle?”
She doesn’t want to admit she heard the news from her uncle—she swore that she wouldn’t tell anyone where she heard it.
“No,” she lies. “But it was someone who is trustworthy.”
“I see. It would be surprising if Ritchie did come back this soon,” Bill admits. “I can look into this and let you know.”
“That would be great, thanks,” Eileen says. “I appreciate it.”
After work, she changes into shorts and a T-shirt and drives over to the animal shelter, looking forward to her hour of volunteering since it doesn’t require email or a telephone. All she needs to do is show up, take two or three dogs from their pen, and comb the streets of Vancouver. Easy. And she feels good about it every time.
Her cell phone rings and she blindly clicks on her Bluetooth with one hand on the wheel.
“Hello?” she answers.
“Hey!” Ty says. “How are you?”
“Fine,” she says, staring at the car in front of her. “How ’bout you?”
“Great! Where are you?”
“I’m driving, just about at the animal shelter.”
“I want to see you.”
“You do?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I don’t know . . .” she says, but the truth is they just saw each other last night and she didn’t expect to hear from him so soon.
“I miss you.”
“Really? You do?” she gushes.
“I do.”
She can feel his smile through the phone, his upper lip curving in an Elvis grin. Did she miss him too? But before she can decide whether or not she should say it back to him, he gently says, “Would you mind if I came with you?”
“To the shelter?”
“I’d like to see what’s involved.”
“Why? Are you planning on volunteering, too?” she asks, ending with a laugh.
“Maybe.”
“They’re going to love this,” she says, still laughing. “I show up with a superstar and they’ll be all over you wanting your support and making it public. Next they’ll be asking if you can donate to the cause.”
“I can handle it,” he assures her.
“All right then, I’ll see you in a few.” She hangs up the phone. What has gotten into him? Eileen doesn’t mind though; she feels the same way. The thought of being in love scares her, but she can’t help the feeling that is building inside her every time she sees him.
Ty shows up at the shelter and Eileen is relieved that the supervisor, who resembles a Havanese dog—long gray hair and tiny face—doesn’t even recognize him. The lady hands over a bunch of leashes. “Eileen?” she asks in a squeaky voice. “Can you and your friend take four dogs, two each?”
Eileen takes the leashes from her hands. “Sure, we can!” She bends down to pet each one, scuffing their necks.
They set out for a brisk walk, each handling their own medium-size dogs.
“So this is what you do in your spare time,” Ty says as they stroll the streets. “Why do you do this?”
“Who else will? I do what I can for these poor animals,” she says, eyeing the mixed breeds walking side by side. “Look at them—they’re so happy right now. Tongues hanging out.” She laughs.
“They look thirsty.”
“They’re smiling!”
“You really do enjoy this, don’t you?” he asks, making eye contact.
“I do. If I could take them all home I would.”
“I’d love to have one too, but it wouldn’t be fair since I spend a lot of time on the road. Maybe one of these days when I settle down.”
Eileen looks at Ty. “When someone else’s home,” she says, thinking that it would be nice to come home to someone or something, even if it were just a mutt from the pound.
Her cell phone vibrates and she reaches for her pocket to look at her message.
I’ve booked my flight! Can’t wait to see you!
She quickly snaps her phone shut and puts it back in her pocket. What would Ty say if he knew she was communicating with her ex?
Ty invites Eileen back to his place for dinner. She drives home so she can change into a pair of jeans and a colorful silk blouse, a little dressy, a little casual, and perfect for another date.
She reaches his apartment, parks in visitor’s parking and walks to the front door.
The concierge nods his head. “Good evening, miss,” he says and holds the door for her. “Which floor?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Whom are you visiting?”
“Caldwell,” she says confidently. “Ty Caldwell.”
“Very good,” the man comments and leads her into the new building, which has a modern design: tall glass windows and a spacious entrance with a large seating area in the lobby.
“Thank you,” she says, feeling the need to thank him
just because he is standing there making conversation with her. She enters the elevator and presses the twenty-eighth floor, and within a minute, she is stepping out, remembering what door to go to.
Eileen knocks on Ty’s front door. He answers, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a golf shirt. His hair looks messy, as always—his signature look.
“Hi! Come in!” he says, holding the door open and greeting her with a warm smile and a peck on the lips.
The smell of something fabulous cooking makes Eileen’s stomach growl.
Eileen smiles at him and he bends over to kiss her on the mouth. She lets him. After all, they are dating and he is now officially her boyfriend. Isn’t he? Her body tingles from his touch; even when he lets go of her arm, she feels blissful and charmed by him.
“You look great,” he tells her.
She wants to tell him he looks great, too, but that would sound unnatural and not as sincere, so she says, “Thank you.”
Eileen takes off her yellow cloth espadrilles and says, “Something smells good.”
Ty shuts the door behind her. “Thanks! Welcome to the Ty Caldwell kitchen,” he says, imitating a dining room server. “We will be dining in candlelight this evening, miss. Dinner tonight features the slow-roasted cashew chicken over jasmine rice and asparagus, paired with a pinot gris.”
She follows Ty into the wide-open space, where they stop in the kitchen. “Sounds delicious,” she says, giving him an eye. “Did you cook it?”
He nods. “Can’t tell you how good it tastes.”
“I’m sure it does.”
“And for dessert, chocolate mousse,” he says, reaching for two wineglasses in the cupboard. “With fresh strawberries.”
“Wow! Caldwell, I’m impressed,” she says, leaning on the granite-tiled island as she watches Ty take the wine from the fridge, open the bottle, and pour two glasses.
He hands her a glass. “Here you go,” he says and lifts his glass in the air. “Cheers! To a lasting relationship.”
His Game, Her Rules Page 19