“No hitting. Promise?” He squeezed again, more gently.
“Okay, okay. I promise. Let go. You’re killing me.”
“Now, if I really wanted to hurt you…”
She rubbed her wrist. “You did. You did.”
“That was nothing.”
“Don’t do it again.”
“Don’t slap me.”
“I won’t. Watch what you say to me. I’m not a whore, like you are.”
“I’m not a whore. Just popular.”
She snorted a laugh at him. “That’s one way to put it.”
His gaze traveled her length, stopping at each curve, its heat piercing her clothing. She shifted her weight under his appraising stare. His sexy grin gave her the chills.
“You’re not bad looking. I’m surprised you’re up there all alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have Spike.”
“Same difference,” he muttered.
But she heard him. “Some people sleep alone by choice,” she sniffed.
He snorted. “Who would choose that?”
“Me.” She turned her back to him, fastened the harness and leash on the dog, and headed for the door. “Time for our walk, Zan…er…Spike.”
The pug’s tongue lolled. He appeared to be grinning at her.
* * * *
When the door latch clicked closed, Griff returned to his new digs. He unpacked his clothes then took his shaving kit into the adjoining bathroom. He opened the door to a large room. Formerly two closets? A purple, green, and white iris print wallpaper graced the top section of the wall that wasn’t tiled. Pretty flowered tiles appeared scattered among the solid white. The room had a window right above a small vanity.
Griff hesitated to sit on the flimsy dressing table chair for fear his weight would break it. He eased down slowly, until he knew it could take him. Delicate, feminine colored glass bottles piqued his curiosity. He uncorked one and held it to his nose. A fresh, sweet fragrance greeted him. Each bottle had a different subtle, floral scent.
He opened one drawer after another and discovered new female treasures. He rubbed a bit of peachy powder between his rough fingers, enjoying the silk-like softness of it against his skin. Kathy never had stuff like this. He explored every inch of the room, smiling at each lotion and oil he discovered. Must have been her bathroom. Maybe she stayed in this room when they broke up. He lifted each bottle of nail polish and studied the colors. Brazen Red. Lady’s Pink. Crazy Coral.
He imagined each on Lauren’s fingernails before deciding he’d like “Crazy Coral” best. This lady takes care of herself. He pictured her rubbing oil and lotion into her skin after a bath. He tried to imagine her naked, but didn’t have enough details. What are you doing? This is bitch-on-wheels. Dog neglector. Stop thinking about her body.
But he couldn’t. Her clear eyes were a beautiful shade of green, even if they were flashing in anger at him. Her long, dark hair called to him. Her curvy figure made his fingertips tingle as he thought about touching her. Forget it. This is just somewhere to stay until my place is finished. Besides, she hates me. But what if she comes in to get this stuff, and I’m in the shower? He swallowed, ignoring the twitch between his thighs at the sexy idea.
He put his things on the counter in the bathroom and returned to the bedroom to hang up his suits and shirts. When he heard her voice, he jumped.
“Let me show you where the dog stuff is.” She headed for the kitchen.
Seeing all her emollients and scents had been like seeing her undressed, like peeping at her. Private knowledge of what she rubbed on her body turned him on. Searching for control, he pushed the lusty feelings from his brain and joined her. Lauren was bent over, giving Spike a treat. Griff’s gaze zeroed in on her enticing rear end.
She stood up. “He gets a treat after every walk.”
He crouched down to rub the pooch behind the ears. “Yeah?” Temporarily controlled by his groin, he was incapable of stringing together words to form a decent sentence.
“That’s what I’ve been doing,” she said.
“Okay. Was that your room?” he asked, easing his butt onto a stool at the counter.
She blushed.
“I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to answer. I’m just a boarder here. You don’t owe me anything.”
“I moved there when Bob and I decided to separate.”
“Thought so.” He nodded.
“And you do mean to pry. You’re in every aspect of my life, threatening me, taking something that’s mine. Now, you’re in my house. I feel…I feel…I feel invaded.” He saw her flush of embarrassment turn to one of anger.
He raised his palms. “Whoa. I don’t mean to. I’m just sharing the dog. Your life is your life. I’m sure it works for you, and it’s none of my business if it does or doesn’t.”
“That’s right. It isn’t.” She huffed out of the room with the harness in her hand.
Griff followed her, concerned. Her eyes filled and a few tears ran down her cheek. She swiped with her hand across her face as she hung Spike’s leash on a peg by the front door. He shoved a handkerchief between her fingers “You know what tears do to me. Please…,” he explained, when she glanced at him.
She laughed. “Now, I know how to get back at you.”
“Waterworks do it every time.” He grinned. “How about I take you out for dinner?”
“I have some stew I made yesterday. I like to give it an extra day. It tastes better that way.”
“Lamb stew?”
She nodded.
“My favorite. A rain check, then. Tomorrow night?”
“What about your hot date?” She looked up at him.
“Later. Lamb stew comes first.” He licked his lips.
“Tomorrow it is.”
“Got any booze?” he asked.
She led him into the living room and opened a cabinet door. A fully stocked bar faced him. “Beer in the fridge, if you prefer.”
“What do you drink?”
“Vodka and tonic.”
“Coming right up.” He pulled out a bottle.
“I’ll put the stew on to heat.”
She had a couple of his favorite brands of liquor, along with whipped cream vodka. Memories of a steamy night with Carla and a bottle of the sexy stuff made him grin. Griff mixed two drinks, leaving room for ice. His worries about moving were melting away. His stomach rumbled, and his mouth watered at the promise of a home-cooked meal.
The aroma of the stew permeated the kitchen. Griff opened the freezer and added ice cubes to the glasses. Lauren pulled placemats from a drawer and plates from a cabinet.
“You can set the table,” she said.
Griff handed her a drink before he set about the task. “Forks and stuff?”
Lauren pointed to another drawer as she stirred the pot. She took a piece of meat and tasted it then put the spoon back. “Oops. Sorry about that. I’m used to cooking for Bob and me. He never minded when I did that.”
“Neither do I. It’s fine.”
She ladled out two steaming bowls and placed them on the plates. She plucked a couple of hot rolls from the toaster oven before retrieving the butter from the fridge+
He raised his drink before speaking. “To Spike.”
“To Spike,” she repeated.
He took a healthy gulp before tucking into the meal.
“Best stew I’ve ever eaten,” he said, between mouthfuls.
“Thanks.” She continued eating, but a spot of color in each cheek revealed her pleasure at his remark.
They ate in silence. The taste of homemade food brought memories of Kathy and her children. Emotion tightened his chest. He missed the loud dinners with great food, differing opinions, arguing, and laughter. Being the big cheese to the kids had made him eager to return home. Their greetings after a game, especially a loss, had buoyed his spirits, turning his attention away from his shortcomings and onto what was most important in his life—his family.
“This was a fanta
stic meal. Thank you,” Griff said, when they had finished.
He rose from the table and headed for the sink. “If you cook, you don’t clean up.” He picked up the sponge and turned on the water.
Lauren smiled and threw her hands up. “If you insist.”
When he was done, he went to his room. After a short shower and a quick shave to reduce his scruff to where he wanted it, he applied aftershave and dressed. He passed Lauren and Spike curled up together on the sofa as he headed out. She was reading a book and petting the dog. At the front door, he turned to wave at her.
“Have a great night,” he said.
“You, too.”
The crowd at The Savage Beast had already thickened. He could barely reach the bar. Carla shot him a lusty grin as she prepared a Savage Sunrise for him. People recognized him and scooted over to make room. Griff rested his elbows on the counter. He grinned at her.
“Your lucky night.”
“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows. The low cut of her top, revealing plenty of cleavage, called to him. He stared, thinking her breasts looked a little too large then shook his head. They’re never too large.
“No date tonight?” She shot him a saucy smile.
He reached for her hand and kissed it. “Yeah, my lucky night.” His groin twitched, as desire flowed through his veins. He had four more drinks before the crowd left. Carla took him by the hand and led him upstairs. They undressed without ceremony. She pulled the covers down on the bed, slid in, and beckoned him.
He followed, taking her into his embrace. It wasn’t long before they were making love. Griff’s climax quickly followed hers. But shame filled him. He lowered his sweaty forehead to hers to whisper, “I’m sorry.”
She pushed on his chest, and he rolled off so she could light up a cigarette. After blowing out smoke, she folded her arms across her breasts and turned her head. With an angry glance at him, she spoke.
“Who’s Lauren?”
Chapter Five
Restless, Lauren paced the living room. After a few minutes, she leashed Spike and took him for a walk. The exercise energized her. I could do five miles easy. But the pug pulled her back toward the house. She gave him a treat then sank down on the couch. Channel surfing didn’t turn up any programs she wanted to watch, so she opened a book.
Spike curled up next to her. She shifted position several times, unable to get comfortable. The pug shot her a sleepy, dirty look then jumped down and circled in his bed before plopping down. He was asleep quickly.
Although she had been engrossed in her reading before dinner, now she couldn’t concentrate. The story appeared slow, not capturing her mind, which was centered on one person—Griff Montgomery. Try as she might, she couldn’t get him out of her head. She pushed to her feet, pacing to the window to peek out, and then back to the sofa.
“He’s not so bad. Was actually nice,” she said to Spike. The dog cracked one eye open and snorted at her. “I know. I didn’t expect it, either.”
She chewed on her thumbnail before going to the kitchen. In the freezer, she found a container of mint chip ice cream. It had barely been touched. She scooped out a generous portion and returned to the couch. Spike sniffed the air, his little nostrils moving in and out. He opened his eyes then closed them again when he realized the food wasn’t for him.
“He liked my stew. Ate it all. No leftovers. I’m gonna have to buy a lot more food.”
Spike ignored her. She stared fondly at him.
Curiosity poked at her. She washed her dish then tiptoed down the hall to Griff’s room. What if he comes home while I’m snooping? Nah. He’s not coming back tonight.
She pushed the door open slowly then laughed at herself. No one here but me. She turned on the light and looked around. The first thing that drew her was a picture on his dresser. She took a closer look. It showed a smiling woman and two adorable children. The resemblance between the woman and Griff was striking. They look alike. Is she his sister? Are those his kids? None of my business, right?
She opened the closet and saw a neat row of sweatshirts and workout pants followed by six suits and a dozen dress shirts. A tie rack was the dividing line between his casual and dress clothes. A nice scent wafted to her nose. Is that him or his aftershave?
She closed the door again and headed for the bathroom. He had a hot lather machine on the counter. His razor was laid out next to an electric. Two razors? A bottle of expensive aftershave, La Nuit, stood next to them. She sniffed. It’s him. She gulped air as his scent turned her on. Lauren touched the damp towel that had dried his skin earlier. Her breath hitched as she wondered what he looked like naked.
The slamming of a car door brought her back to life. Griff! Shit! A glance at her watch told her it was midnight. What the hell am I doing up so late? Waiting for him? I thought he’d be out all night. Damn.
She switched off the light and scurried out of the room like a mouse being chased by a cat. When his key turned the lock, she was in the kitchen, trying to catch her breath and putting away the dishes from the dishwasher.
“You still up?” Griff tossed his keys on the kitchen table.
“Midnight isn’t late. It’s Saturday night,” she lied. “You’re home early.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Were you waiting up for me?”
“Of course not. How could you think…? No. No way.” She tried to control the tremor in her voice, but wasn’t successful. A deep breath calmed her nerves.
“I know how to lock a door. You don’t have to wait up.”
“I know that.” She cast her gaze to her hands.
They stood in awkward silence for a moment. The dog stretched, yawned, and padded into the room.
“Hey, Spike. Oh, wait. I can’t pet him, can I? It’s your time.” He chuckled.
“Don’t be silly. Of course, you can.”
Griff crouched down to scratch the dog behind the ears then straightened. “Time for bed.”
“I thought you already did that?” The unfiltered words flew out of her before she could stop them. Lauren clamped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late.
He threw a stern look her way.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. It’s none of my business,” she prattled on.
“Damn right, it’s none of your business.”
“I’m sorry. Really. It’s just that you said…indicated…implied you wouldn’t be home ’til morning and I…well, I mean, here you are. And I wondered…okay. I’m shutting up now.”
“Good night.” He turned his back to her and headed toward his room, stopping in the doorway. “And ‘no,’ I’m not going to tell you about my date.”
Embarrassment choked her. She scrambled up the stairs, wishing she could disappear.
* * * *
Sunday morning, the ringing of the doorbell woke Griff. He rolled over, cracked open an eye, and spied the clock. Ten o’clock. What the hell? It’s Sunday. No practice. Who’s at the door? He crawled out of bed, slightly hung over, and pulled on a pair of boxers. He scratched his face, his chest, and then his crotch and yawned as he made his way to the front door.
When he entered the entry hall, a loud gasp jerked him awake. Facing him was a group of ten women, different sizes, shapes, and ages, but all fully dressed. As they stared at him, smiles slowly spread across their faces. Griff felt naked. Sputtering, he backed into his room and slammed the door. The buzzing of female voices carried to him. Griff washed his face, combed his hair, and threw on pants and a T-shirt before rejoining them.
When he inched the door open, they were not visible, but he heard voices drifting from the living room. He tiptoed to the kitchen, poured himself a mug of coffee from the full pot on the counter, and peeked around the corner.
“There he is,” said one blonde, pointing at Griff.
He wanted to run.
“It’s Griff Montgomery. From the Kings,” observed another.
“Lauren, you didn’t tell us you were living with Griff Montgomery.”
Watching Lauren turn bright red, Griff chuckled. Serves her right for being so nosy last night.
“He’s renting a room here. We’re sharing the dog. I told you about the court thing last time.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t tell us it was Griff Montgomery.”
“Come on in, Mr. Montgomery,” the blonde said, motioning to him.
Griff grinned and stepped into the room.
“I’m sorry if we woke you up,” Lauren apologized.
“That’s okay. What a nice surprise to find a group of beautiful women waiting outside my door.”
The ladies giggled.
Lauren jumped up and grabbed his arm, turning him around. “You don’t have to stay and be polite, Griff. I’m sure you have something you need to do.” She steered him back to his room.
At the door, he turned a suspicious gaze on her. “What don’t you want me to know?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” But her darting eyes, unwilling to meet his, gave her away.
“Who are these women?”
Lauren straightened up. “My…uh…book club.”
“A book club?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Just don’t want you to think I’m a snob. I mean…you probably don’t read much.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He rested his hand on his hips.
“I mean, with all the working out, and the women, and the late nights…”
“I read. I read plenty.”
“I’m sure you do.”
But he could tell by her face that she didn’t think he read anything at all, ever. And she was right. Couldn’t remember the title of the last book he’d picked up. Shame stole into his chest. Damn it. I’ll read. I’ll read as much as you do.
“The group only meets for about an hour or two once or twice a month. I hope it won’t bother you.”
“Won’t bother me at all.” He slammed the door in her face.
Griff threw himself down on the bed. He laced his fingers behind his head and stared out the window. She’s the most infuriating, insufferable, condescending, and annoying woman in the world. And I have to live under her roof. Damn it.
Griff Montgomery, Quarterback Page 6