Game For Love: All The Right Moves (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Marquita Valentine

  “You did?” Ashley said, her voice full of the familiar awe he’d come to expect from fans. But this time, it made things awkward. He didn’t want her fawning over him over helping the men and women who’d served to protect their country.

  It felt wrong. “Yeah, but it’s not a big deal.”

  She frowned.

  “I mean, the charity is a big deal, just not my part in it,” he added in a rush. That brought back her smile and those killer dimples.

  Suddenly, tears filled her eyes and she gave him a big hug, one so tight that her full breasts were flush against his chest. He couldn’t help his body’s reaction—it got all tight and hard at the same time, even as he tried to give her a decent, respectable hug back.

  “My brother, Rhett, lost his leg in Afghanistan, and V-Squared has been helping him with all the VA red tape,” she said softly. “If it wasn’t for those guys, he’d still be waiting to get therapy and a prosthetic. Thank you so, so much.”

  As she let go of him and stepped back, he cleared his throat. “It’s the least I could do.”

  She beamed at him. “So nice seeing you.” Turning on her heel, she began to walk away.

  “You’re losing her,” Cole said, shoving his hand into Ryan’s back.

  “Hold up.” Ryan jogged to Ashley. She turned around, her dimples no longer flashing and her eyes wary. What was it about him that made her so skittish? They barely knew each other. Unless… shit. “I’m not that guy.”

  “What guy?”

  “Typical jock.”

  She raked her gaze over him, taking note of the mud-stained clothing and shoes. “I disagree.”

  Excellent. “Then go out with me.”

  “No.”

  “If you do, I’ll donate another 100k to V-Squared, in your brother’s name,” he said, taking a gamble that this was the right move.

  Of all the people Ashley could meet on her way to pick up her best friend’s wedding dress from where the front desk was holding it, Ryan Turner was never in the top ten. Or top one hundred.

  But there he was, standing in front of her, with puppy dog eyes and an offer she couldn’t refuse. Although she should refuse him, but unlike the egotistical jock she was used to, he offered to make a donation in her brother’s name—not his. So, no extra publicity for this year’s Sexiest Man Alive.

  She blew out a breath, and his crooked smile grew bigger, like he just knew she was going to say yes. Because, she had a hundred thousand reasons to do just that.

  “Fine. One date. I’ll meet you at the restaurant of your choice.”

  “Two dates, and I pick you up,” he said.

  She watched as his friend pumped his fist in the air, and then walked inside the hotel. Figures, he was in on it. She narrowed her gaze. “Did you really compete in a charity run?”

  He held up two fingers, seemingly amused by her question. “Scout’s honor. Plus, you can look it up on the website. And as Abraham Lincoln said, the internet never lies.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it, because it reminded her so much of the guy she knew from puppy-parenting classes. “Fine. Two dates it is,” she agreed. “And you can quote me on it.” It wouldn’t be that bad. It couldn’t be that bad. Who wouldn’t want a little attention from a guy like Ryan? He was sexy, confident, and supported a charity close to her heart.

  He rubbed his hands together. “Give me your number and address.”

  “Why?” she asked, immediately wary again.

  His dark brow cocked. “Generally, that’s how this works. I get your number, we flirt over texting, and then when it’s date night, I pick you up.”

  “There won’t be any flirting,” she said tightly. But she did dig into her purse and pull out her business card. “You can contact me at this number. I’ll text you my address whenever we decide on a date for our… er, date.”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  Her mouth dropped open. That soon? Panicking, she tried to think of an excuse and only came up with the lamest of reasons. “I can’t.”

  “You can, and wouldn’t you rather go ahead and get this over with?”

  Well, when he put it like that… “You read my mind. Tomorrow night, then.” She shook her card a little, and he took it from her.

  Flipping it over, his eyes scanned the back. “Hmm.”

  Hmm? What did that mean? “What time?”

  “You pick, firecracker.”

  The nerve. He didn’t know her well enough to give her a nickname. “Seven.”

  His gaze sliced to her, all dark brown, like her favorite chocolate. “I’ll pick you up at six fifteen.”

  Butterflies took flight in her stomach, and she almost pressed her hand against it. Or maybe they weren’t butterflies. Maybe they were crows, warning her that this was a really bad idea.

  “Bluebelle will be happy to see you,” she said.

  He laughed. “I think Gunner’s moping over her.”

  “Poor doggie,” she said sympathetically. “They should really have a play date.” Oh, that was it. A play date at Beauregard’s Pet Playground would totally satisfy the second date requirement. Then she wouldn’t have to—

  “Nope. Doesn’t count,” he said, forestalling any more planning of dates that wouldn’t actually require them to be alone together. “If you want to get together at Beauregard’s, then Gunner and I will meet y’all. But that’s for them, not us.”

  There is no us, she wanted to snap. “Like you’ve just been waiting around, hoping against hope that somehow we would run into each other, like in a romance novel or something.” He gave her a pointed look, and she threw her hands into the air. “I’ll concede the romance novel-like meeting, but there’s no way you’ve been waiting around for me.”

  That cocky grin she’d grown to love-hate reappeared on his face, as he leaned in. “Baby, you have no idea just how much worth waiting around for you are.”

  She blinked up at him. Her knees wobbled, and she had to lock them into place to keep from swooning. “Yes, well,” she said, all flustered. “See you tomorrow.”

  “No goodbye kiss?” he teased.

  “Don’t push it, buddy,” she snapped, because kissing him seemed like a good idea. Especially with him so close.

  He shouldn’t smell this good after a fifteen-mile workout. He should smell like a wet dog or like stinky butt. He should smell like something other than all masculine-lick-me-up-and-down scent.

  Yeah, she really needed to go while the getting was good.

  “I’m looking forward to our date, Ashley,” Ryan called out, and she wanted to sink into the floor.

  She waved a hand at him, restraining herself from pointing a finger into the air. Besides, her mother would kill her, and someone would get a shot of it on their phone, post it to YouTube, and then where would she be?

  Chapter Three

  If she didn’t like dressing up, then Ashley would have worn a ratty pair of sweats and her oldest T-shirt for her date with Ryan.

  Surprisingly, he hadn’t texted her but three times. Once, to let her know it was him. The second, to ask for her address. The third, to show what very nice manners he had by thanking her and expressing how much he looked forward to their date.

  Bluebelle sat at her feet, head on her paws, staring up at her while she put on the last of her makeup. As a redhead, she didn’t have but so many choices—it was either screaming harlot or innocent powder puff. She liked neither, and hoped to God she looked confident and—and pretty for her date.

  Oh, how stupid was that? Who cared if she looked pretty? Ryan had seen her dressed down, dressed sort of up, and then business casual. It didn’t seem he had minded once what she wore to puppy-parenting classes. Why start worrying now?

  After smoothing down her blue sundress, she checked the belt to make sure it had gone into every loop. Fluffing her hair one last time, she made a face at her reflection.

  “This will have to do,” she told Bluebelle.

  Bluebelle just looked at her, and
then huffed before closing her eyes.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  The doorbell rang, as she made her way to the living room. Her heart sped up, and those crazy butterflies returned. Ryan was here. At her door. Waiting on the other side to take her out and—

  Do what exactly? She still wasn’t sure why he wanted to go out with her of all people. Did he think she was a sure thing, or had her obvious differences from the women he usually dated make her exotic to him? And yes, she had sneaked more than a few peeks at his image on Google, his website, and the Atlanta Avengers website.

  She rolled her eyes at herself. If Ryan ever found out, he’d probably do a victory dance and slap her butt. Not that she would mind the slap on the butt.

  “Control yourself,” she muttered.

  He was just a guy, a very hot, sexy guy, but a guy nonetheless. And she refused to be played by him. So, tonight, she’d go out and have a great time. Then she’d do it again, and V-Squared would have its donation.

  It was a win-win in her opinion, and veterans like her brother, Rhett, would benefit from her sacrifice to the dating gods.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Coming,” she called out, unlocking the front door. She opened it a crack and found Ryan on the other side. All her former blasé attitude about him being just a really sexy guy flew out the window. He wore dark jeans, a button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and a pair of sunglasses.

  “You look amazing,” he said, taking off his sunglasses. He ran an appreciative eye over her, and she flushed. “Gorgeous. Wow. I’m at a loss for words, Peaches.”

  Firecracker. Peaches. What was with him and nicknames? “Don’t sound shocked,” she reprimanded. “Judging by your reaction, you were expecting me to answer the door in a ratty old pair of sweats and—”

  “It didn’t cross your mind?”

  Her cheeks heated even more. “Once or twice.”

  He smiled. “An honest answer—I might not like it, but I can respect it.”

  Suddenly, Bluebelle came bounding into the room. Ashley gave her a look. “And here’s my guard dog, protecting me from you.”

  Ever since she’d rescued Bluebelle from the pound, the dog had been terrified of the doorbell and would hide out in Ashley’s room whenever she heard it. But now, it looked like she was coming out of her shell, which made Ashley more than a little excited for her dog.

  Bluebelle shook all over, wagged her tail, and sniffed Ryan’s boots. “She smells Gunner.” He knelt on the front porch, scratching Bluebelle behind the ears. “G-Dog is gonna be so jealous I got to see you, pretty girl.”

  Bluebelle’s tail wagged harder. Not that Ashley could blame her. “I meant what I said about getting them together, Ryan. They were buddies for so long that it seems wrong to keep them apart.”

  Ryan peered up at her, through lashes so long and thick that she was jealous. Hers were almost nonexistent without mascara. “I agree.”

  In that moment, she knew Ryan didn’t just mean their dogs. He meant them, too. She cleared her throat, and then gave Bluebelle the command to go back inside the house. Her dog, the sweet girl, listened almost immediately.

  “Let me get her a treat, grab my purse, and I’ll be ready to go,” she said, already walking to the kitchen, but she froze when she heard a familiar crunching sound.

  Looking back at Ryan, and then at Bluebelle as she ate, Ashley asked, “Did you give her that?”

  “I might have,” he replied.

  She glanced up in time to see him dig into his pocket and pull out two more treats, one in each hand. He’d thought of Bluebelle. Her heart softened, despite knowing it was the wrong thing to do.

  “That was sweet of you to think of her,” she said.

  He shrugged. “It was nothing.”

  Grabbing her purse, she crossed the room and put her hand on his arm. “You don’t like compliments about the things you do—off the field, do you?”

  “I don’t know how to respond.”

  This sexy man, so confident on the field, in interviews, and when asking her out, didn’t know what to do? “Saying ‘thank you’ is more than enough.”

  He stared into her eyes, his gaze so smoldering that she was surprised her clothes weren’t smoking. “Thank you.”

  She took moved closer to him. “By the way, I read how much money you raised for V-Squared, and what you had to do on the mud run. If I had known the extent of it, then you wouldn’t have had to bribe me to go out with you.”

  There, she was being honest.

  “I would have given more, if it hadn’t been enough for you,” he said quietly.

  “Money has it uses, but that’s not one of them for me.”

  “So, you would have gone out with me, if I hadn’t had done anything more than happen to run into you at the hotel?” His head dipped, bringing those full, soft lips so close to hers that she dug her nails into his arm. His powerful, muscular arm.

  Oh, sweet Jesus.

  “Ryan, I—” She licked her lips.

  That was all the invitation he needed because before she could take another breath and start again, his mouth was on hers.

  His firecracker kissed like an angel. All soft and giving as she melted into him. Her sweet, little body fit against his perfectly. She wasn’t too tall, and she wasn’t too short. Not too skinny and not too voluptuous. Most might say she was average, but not him.

  Never him.

  Cautiously, her mouth moved beneath his, and he kept the pressure light, not wanting to ruin this moment. He tentatively touched his tongue to her bottom lip, running it along the plump line, until she gasped her pleasure.

  Her hands came up, not to push him away, but to slide into his hair. He nudged her mouth open, and she parted her lips with a soft moan. Taking full advantage, he swept his tongue inside and tangled it up with hers.

  A groan left him, and he had to make himself stop before he swept Ashley off her feet and took her to bed.

  He leaned back and gazed into her gorgeous face. Her lashes fluttered open, giving him an up-close and personal view of just how blue her eyes could get. They were drowsy, full of desire and lust.

  She blinked, and he bit back a curse because he could see the exact moment reality hit her. Her forehead furrowed and her pink, sexy mouth pinched up a little.

  “I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she said. “I didn’t—I took advantage of you.”

  That wasn’t what he expected to hear. She took advantage of him? He was six-three and weighed two hundred-thirty-six pounds to her five-foot nothing and a hundred and nothing pounds.

  “No, you didn’t. I did. You licked your lips; I saw an opening.” He shrugged. “So, I went for it.”

  “You went for it?” She made a face, like the thought of what they’d done was distasteful.

  “Yeah.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And you seemed to like it.”

  Her mouth opened and closed a few times, as he waited for her to give him a penalty that would send him out of the game they were playing.

  “I’m ready to go,” she announced, marching to the front door. She glanced back at him. “I can’t lock it, until you’re out. Unless you relish the thought of setting off the alarm?”

  “Can’t say I do.” Great. Just great. He’d lost every bit of ground he gained with her. Except, she didn’t kick him out, and the only reason he knew she didn’t was because of the donation.

  If that wasn’t a kick to the teeth, he didn’t know what was.

  She gestured to the door. “Then let’s go.”

  Chapter Four

  Their date was off to a rocky start, but Ryan wasn’t out of the game just yet. And the place he’d picked for tonight was forty-five minutes east of Atlanta, so no one would bother them.

  He leaned back in his chair, studying the woman sitting across the table from him. She was drinking the last of her martini, trying to capture the cherry that kept rolling from side to side in her glass.

  Finally, her to
ngue got in on the action.

  That made him sit up a little taller. It also made his dick hard. All he could think in that moment was that little pink tongue licking his body, like he was a cherry she wanted to eat.

  Mercifully, the cherry rolled into her mouth a second later.

  “In all the time we spent together, I’m ashamed to admit that I have no idea what you do for a living,” he said.

  Setting her glass down, she leaned forward a little. “I stalk football players, sleep with them, and record it, so I can post the video on YouTube and make millions.”

  Forget angel. She was a she-devil. Damned if he didn’t love it. “You be sure to get my good side when you do.”

  She floundered for a minute. “What side would that be?”

  He captured her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her wrist. Her pulse was steady at first, but gradually picked up pace the longer he touched her. “I’ll let you be the judge.”

  Ashley turned away from him, but not before he saw the smile on her face. However, she didn’t pull her hand away. “Want to start from the top?” he asked.

  She nodded once, and then turned to face him. “I’m a designer. Most recently, I designed accessories for prosthesis.”

  “How did you get started?” He wanted to know everything about her.

  “In college. After my brother lost his leg, he joined a support group, and there were women in there that I became friendly with. One of the things that always came up was dressing for a date. The prosthesis made for legs are either plain, flesh colored, or sporty-looking. I mean, I get the functionality and all. But when a woman has a date, she wants options—they wanted options—to wear a dress and show off her legs. To feel sexy.”

  Ryan nodded at her, completely fascinated by her story. Actually, he was fascinated by her. “Go on.”

  Ashley smiled, obviously excited to talk about something she held so close to her heart. “One day, during art history class, we were studying a picture of a woman partially dressed, and she had these thigh-highs and garters on—very sexy. And it hit me. I could make those specifically for leg prosthesis.” She grinned. “I designed a prototype, got a patent, and started selling them online. Then, a picture of one of my designs went viral on Pinterest, and it steamrolled from there. It got to the point that I had to buy a warehouse, more equipment, and hire a bunch of employees to meet demand.”