Ruff and Tumble

by Lucy Gilmore

  He’d been tricked. Duped. Lured into this project with false promises of easy, friendly competition.

  There was nothing easy or friendly about the way Hailey looked right now. As she bent and twisted, tacking photos and stats and other useful bits of information on the wall that was to serve as their draft board, the only thing he could seem to focus on was her ass. In the clothes she’d worn every other time they’d met, she’d seemed attractively curvy—a warm collection of round parts that fit her personality.

  Today, however…

  He shook his head to clear it and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Today, she’d revealed more than just the small curve of her waist and the way her body swelled above and below it in perfect proportions. Today, she’d revealed her hand.

  She was going to do her best to win, and if he allowed himself to be mesmerized by the way the fabric of her jumpsuit clung to her hourglass shape, she was going to demolish him.

  This is a game I know how to play.

  Cole waited until Hailey finished with the board and turned toward him, a question in the arch of her brow. It matched the rest of the look she’d pulled together for the day—a sort of tousled, tumbled pinup who knew exactly what she was doing to him.

  “Well?” she asked. “Have you finished looking everything over? Can I call in your adoring hordes?”

  He didn’t answer her—at least not in words. Without losing eye contact, he began to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt. His sister had once told him, back in the days when his enthusiasm far outstripped his charm, that women were more attracted to forearms than to any other part of a man. He’d suspected Regina of saying that to make him feel better—as a gangly teen who hadn’t yet grown into his body, his arms had been the only impressive thing about him—but he’d quickly realized she was right. A slow, careful rolling of his shirtsleeves did more to attract the ladies than any other display he put on.

  He halfway feared Hailey would prove herself as immune to this as everything else, but he only made it to one elbow before her eyes flashed silver. He might have felt triumphant at having so easily overset her, if not for the fact that those silver sparks had a way of setting off a fire in his veins—especially when they were matched by that telltale pink flush on her cheeks.

  Damn. He was supposed to be the one driving her out of her mind with desire, not the other way around.

  “Hiya!” Penny burst through the door before he could make the mistake of doing anything more than finish rolling his sleeves. She dragged a pair of photo lights behind her. “I’m just going to set these up in the corner. Are we ready to go in here?”

  “I’m good,” Cole said with a pointed look at Hailey. “You might as well release the hounds. Metaphorically speaking, that is.”

  Penny laughed and obliged him, popping her head out of the conference room just long enough to call the press in.

  “I can tell what you’re trying to do,” Hailey hissed as they watched the half-dozen photographers crowd into the room. They were already liberally snapping pictures, taking in the draft board and the pit bull puppy curled up with his stuffed football in the corner like they’d never seen a PR puff piece before. “And it won’t work. I’m not so easily distracted.”

  “It’s warm in here, don’t you think?” he asked. He didn’t bother lowering his own voice, which had the benefit of drawing the rest of the room’s inhabitants into the conversation. “I’m feeling awfully warm.”

  “I can adjust the temperature—” Penny began but stopped as soon as Cole undid the top button of his shirt. “Oh. Okay. That works too.”

  He grinned. “How about you, Hailey? Are you feeling the heat?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Penny, did you bring the coin for the toss?”

  “Oh, there’s no need for such formality,” Cole said with a smile that was mostly for the cameras. “Ladies first—I insist.”

  He expected Hailey to argue or demur, but she hesitated all of half a second before announcing, “I’ll take Ursula. She’s the six-month-old rescue from the shelter in Sequim.”

  Cole was startled by both the promptness and the quality of her first pick. “Isn’t that the Chihuahua with only one eye?”

  Hailey turned on him with a look that contained equal parts disgust and challenge. “Yes. She’s small but mighty. A fighter. A top draft if ever I met one.”

  Penny took the photo from the board and moved it over to Hailey’s side, pausing only to cast a look over her shoulder at Cole. “You’d better be careful. Hailey is crazy good at this. She wins our office fantasy league every year. It’s like she can see into the future.”

  Nothing could have been more calculated to fit in with Cole’s plans. Announcing Hailey’s ability to win in front of the press was exactly what this was supposed to be about. She was a fan, a believer, a good-luck charm. They might have to fudge the footage a little to make him look like the winner, but the harder she played, the better their chances of helping his team break the curse.

  Nothing could have been more calculated to get his competitive juices flowing, too. Crazy good, his ass. How hard could it be to pick a team of football puppies when he’d been playing the real game his whole life?

  “I’m not psychic,” Hailey protested. “Well, Cole? Who’s your top pick?”

  “Cleopatra,” he announced, not missing a beat. “The one that’s half Great Dane and half Rottweiler. From Bellevue.”

  Hailey snorted. “I knew you’d pick her.”

  Cole didn’t want to ask. Not in front of an audience. Not when the proverbial cameras were rolling.

  He did anyway. “Why? What’s wrong with her?”

  Hailey rolled her shoulder. It caused the strap of her jumpsuit to slip oh-so-slightly, exposing the thin line of her clavicle, which was just as spattered with light freckles as the rest of her. As if aware that he was staring at it—at her—she didn’t make a move to put the strap back. “Nothing. She’s just the showiest one of the lot, that’s all. Let me guess… You have the gray-and-white bulldog for pick number two, don’t you?”

  He did, actually. He liked its angry little face. He didn’t think it would take a tackle easily.

  “Penny, slide Jerry over to my side, if you please. Jerry,” she said to the journalists, “is a three-legged mixed breed with the most beautiful brindle coloring. He was found on the side of the freeway just south of Everett. The vets weren’t sure he’d make it after they had to amputate his leg, but his spirit is strong.”

  All of Hailey’s puppy picks followed along the same lines. Cole got his bulldog and a pair of twin black Labs, as well as Philip—though he picked his puppy more out of loyalty than because he’d be any good at football. In the short time he and Philip had spent together, he’d learned that in addition to being scared of solitude, Philip was scared of can openers. Not to mention the front door, the balcony door, windows that were even the slightest bit open, and cheese.

  Hailey’s choices were much less illustrious. She chose the small dogs and the dogs with the most traumatic pasts. She went for personality over muscle, a cute pair of eyes over a solid pair of legs. In other words, she picked all the animals Cole had put on the bottom of his wish list, and she picked them without hesitation.

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” he said after she snagged a curly poodle-looking thing whose weight was listed at all of four pounds. “What do you know that I don’t?”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “How to win.”

  Behind them, the cameras flashed. They had to have more than enough photos by now, but the spirit of the competition was infectious. He didn’t blame them for sticking around. Watching a beautiful woman confidently and unceasingly put Cole in his place had to be the most fun they’d had in ages.

  He grinned his appreciation but didn’t allow himself to be distracted. “I’m serious.” He reached across the table and pluc
ked the sheet of paper out of her hand. A quick scan told him nothing—she’d listed the puppies in numerical order and had so far gotten all the ones she wanted. “Did you pick these at random?”

  She yanked the sheet back. “Of course not. I know what qualities to look for in an athlete, that’s all.”

  “I warned you,” Penny said from her position at the drafting board. “You should see her fantasy lineup. She always seems to make her picks without any rhyme or reason. The guys in accounting have been trying to figure out her formula for years, but they can’t crack it. The only player she always gets for her first draw, no matter what, is—”

  At a warning glance from Hailey, Penny stopped herself short, but it was too late. The color was mounting to Hailey’s cheeks, her conscience-stricken expression stripping away all the trappings of hair and makeup and that damnably appealing black outfit.

  Cole leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I like where this is going. Proceed.”

  “Don’t,” Hailey told her coworker.

  Penny laughed. “No offense, but I think he already knows.”

  “I want to hear her say it,” Cole said. Thinking of the list in her hand, he added, “Or else I’m going to pick that lolly-tongued hairless puppy you plan to take after my turn.”

  She sat up in her seat, the silver in her eyes sparking. “That’s cheating. You peeked at my list.”

  “Admit it.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Say the words.”

  “You can’t make me.”

  “Fine.” Cole crossed her arms and nodded at Penny. “Lolly-tongued no-hair for me.”

  Penny made a move to pin the picture of the puppy in question onto his side of the board, but Hailey stopped her with an exasperated sigh. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” she muttered. With a smile for the cameras, she adopted a syrupy voice and said, “I always pick Cole Bennett first for my fantasy team. In fact, I refuse to play without him. He’s my favorite Lumberjack, and he always has been. You might even call him my good-luck charm.”

  Cole acknowledged the concession with a shout of laughter. Hailey had neatly—and sweetly—turned the tables on him. It was no more than he deserved and everything he’d been hoping to hear.

  “There you have it,” he said. “I’m her favorite. Garrett is going to be so pissed.”

  Mentioning Garrett was a mistake. The moment the wide receiver entered the conversation, the focus moved from puppies playing football to men playing football. Cole realized his error when a journalist from the local paper asked a question about one of the past weekend’s trickier plays. It would have been rude not to answer, but that was followed up with a few more about the starting lineup and strategies for this weekend’s game against Texas. Cole could practically see the situation slipping away from him.

  Not that he was the least bit surprised. This sort of thing always happened. It didn’t matter if he was out for dinner with a friend or shopping for furniture with his mom or even just going out to pick up a cup of coffee.

  Football. Lumberjacks. He could spend the next fifty years living like a hermit on top of a mountain, and the first thing people would ask when he reentered society would be his opinion on the upcoming playoffs.

  “Well, I think we’ve got all the puppies covered,” Hailey said the moment the barrage of questions had slowed to a trickle. She clapped her hands to prevent anyone from speaking out of turn. “I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re getting kicked out of this conference room in about five minutes. You can email any follow-up questions about the Puppy Cup directly to me, but all other media inquiries will have to go through the regular American Football Club channels.”

  Cole watched as Hailey proceeded to clear the room with admirable efficiency. So far, his interactions with this woman had been more social than professional, usually with him doing his best to wheedle or charm something he wanted out of her. This thing he was witnessing now was of an entirely different composition. He wasn’t watching Hailey Lincoln blush her way out of a tight spot; he was watching a television production assistant with six years of experience handling the press. He was watching a woman on a deadline doing what was necessary to finish a project.

  She looked capable and in control and, well, a lot like his sister.

  “You’re really good at that,” Cole said as Hailey closed the door behind Penny and the rabble of journalists she was escorting to the elevators. “I had no idea.”

  “What? That I can do my job?”

  “No. That you aren’t just straightforward and mean to me. You put those journalists in their place in less time than it takes most people to blink.”

  Her eyes narrowed in the way he was coming to recognize. “I’m not mean.”

  “I also said ‘straightforward.’”

  “I don’t have a mean bone in my body.”

  Cole was unable to resist a good, hard look at the bones under deliberation. Right now, with her hip jutting out to one side and her torso twisted to face him, Hailey looked as though she was poised to attack. But the longer he stood there, his appraisal slow and unblinking, the more she seemed to melt. Her stance became less rigid, her posture a squirming, liquid discomfort.

  This was not a woman who was used to having an audience—especially not an appreciative one.

  “Stop it,” she snapped, a flush of color starting to creep down her neck. She’d never worn anything this low-cut before, so this was the first time Cole realized that her tendency to blush wasn’t restricted to her face. It started there before blossoming outward, traveling into her neckline and toward her chest.

  He felt a profound and sudden urge to know the precise location where it ended. He wanted to see it. He wanted to study it. He wanted to touch it.

  “I mean it.” Hailey darted to the other side of the room, positioning herself behind the table, both of her hands gripping the edge as though it was the only thing keeping her standing. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like…that.” She waved a hand in his general direction. “Like you can see through my clothes. I’ve had that nightmare before. It never ends well.”

  Cole chuckled and drew closer to the other side of the table. There was an expanse of wood grain between them, an interminable distance when all he wanted to do was examine every inch of her skin, but he also needed to grip the edges. Not to stay standing but to keep himself from launching across the room at her.

  “Oh really? I’d like to hear more about these nocturnal habits of yours.”

  She bit down on her lower lip and shook her head. “Nuh-uh. No way. Not on my life. Not even on yours.”

  “That good, huh?” he asked. “Are you actually naked in this dream, or is it just that your clothes are invisible?”

  Even from this distance, he could hear Hailey’s low, back-of-the-throat moan. “Nightmare,” she said. “It wasn’t a dream… It was a nightmare. Kind of like this, actually.”

  “Naked, then,” he said, nodding. “I like it.”

  “I never said I was naked!”

  He shifted his position so he half sat on the table’s surface. It brought him close enough to smell the light lavender that always seemed to envelop Hailey but not so close that he lost all reason and accountability.

  “So you’re standing in front of a room, presumably naked as the day you were born.” Cole had to force himself to breath before he continued. “Who else is in the room? Is it one of those generic, walk-into-the-classroom sort of deals? Oh! I know… It’s football-related, isn’t it? Everything in your life is football-related.”

  “Cole, please.”

  The sound in her voice—desperation and desire mingled as one—caused something inside him to click. “Oh shit. It’s me-related, isn’t it?”

  She lifted her hands from the table’s edge a
nd buried her face in them.

  “So wait,” he said. “If these dreams—oh, I’m sorry—nightmares of yours never end well, what happens? Do I publicly shame you? Boo and hiss? Or do I just fail to deliver?”

  Hailey’s whole body began shaking, her head still in her hands. Cole’s general response time was slower than usual—understandable considering how much of his blood flow had been diverted southward—but he recognized the signs almost immediately.

  “Hailey, I’m sorry.” He slid off the table and rushed over to her side, careful not to touch her. “Please don’t be upset. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ll stop, see? Not another word.”

  She continued shaking. Cole had to use every ounce of strength he had not to reach out and pull her into his arms—and even then, it was a struggle. All the strength in the world didn’t mean much when he’d made a woman cry.

  “I’m an idiot,” he confessed. “I always have been. Just ask Reggie.”

  At the mention of his sister, Hailey glanced up. Her face wasn’t, as he’d feared, streaked with tears or rimmed with red around the eyes. Her makeup was untouched, her color delightfully diffused. In fact, from this angle, it looked as though she hadn’t been crying at all.

  It almost looked as though she’d been…laughing.

  “Oh, crap!” she cried. “Your sister is going to be at my house in less than an hour.”

  “Wait… You’re not upset?”

  Hailey glanced at the clock above the door and released a soft curse. “Traffic is going to be awful. We’ll never beat her there.”

  “Hailey.” Cole finally gave in to the urge to reach for her. He gripped her shoulders and whirled her so that she faced him. With her face upturned toward his, the light of laughter still on her lips, she was irresistible.

  “Were you just laughing?” he demanded. “At me?”

  She nodded. A slight giggle escaped. “I’m sorry. It’s just… This is all so surreal. You. Me. This ridiculous outfit.”

  He slid his hands down her arms, her skin soft and temptingly warm. “What’s ridiculous about it? I think you look nice.”