Until the women left, he was trapped. He flipped on his laptop and Googled Amazon. He typed in bestsellers. Up popped a list called “Book Club Picks.” She can have a book club, so can I. He clicked then scrolled. Romance, thriller, fiction. Griff bought a book from each category that looked interesting, including romance. Hell, maybe a dirty one? He snickered. I can hope. After picking out six novels, he entered in his credit card number and his new address and hit “submit.”
Restless, he paced then cracked open the door to listen. He heard the sound of crying. A mixture of low voices blended together, preventing him from identifying sentences. After creeping out into the hallway, he caught a word here or there, but couldn’t make sense out of it. I’ve heard of sad books, but this is ridiculous.
He retired quickly to his room when he heard footsteps rounding the corner. Best not to get caught eavesdropping. In two days, I’m gonna be reading plenty of books. But I’m not gonna cry when I talk about ’em.
His phone dinged, signaling the arrival of a text. He winced when he read it—
We’re done. Why don’t you give Lauren a tumble? Carla.
All the years he’d been tomcatting around, he’d never done that before—never called the woman underneath him by another one’s name. Until last night. The memory made him restless. He grabbed his keys and headed for his car. I’m outta here.
The women looked up as he stormed out the door. Griff didn’t care. He needed air. Once behind the wheel, he entered the highway. With the windows open, he drove to Evergreen Mountain. At his favorite perch, he pulled over and got out. Standing on a ledge with a view on three sides of the small mountain range, he took a deep breath.
No woman had ever bothered him so much before. He’d be damned if he’d let Lauren Farraday get under his skin. She’d already cost him the greatest dog and the best lay ever. He had to get her out of his mind.
So, she has a body that won’t quit. And those eyes. Yeah, they see into my soul. So what? She isn’t the hottest chick I’ve ever seen. Well, maybe close. Okay, the hottest and the best cook…maybe. But she’s a bitch, and she’s hiding something.
When he arrived home, the last of the book club ladies was getting in her car. He stopped a little ways away and watched the blonde hug Lauren and whisper in her ear. Lauren wiped her cheek and nodded. Maybe she’s gay? Once the woman was backing out of the driveway, Griff returned.
His presence startled Lauren. She jumped.
“How about that dinner out?” he asked, leaning against the archway to the kitchen.
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry. How ’bout it?”
“Okay. When?”
“An hour?”
She nodded then climbed the stairs to her room. Griff took a shower, wondering what it was about Lauren that made her stick in his mind. Tonight, I’m gonna find out.
* * * *
Lauren pressed her hot cheek against the cold, bathroom tile. She took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting tears. It had been months, but she still couldn’t get past it. Her support group helped, but after they left, loneliness engulfed her.
Trying to cope with her loss was bad enough. Adding the annoyance of having dinner with an arrogant womanizer made things worse. All she wanted to do was cuddle up with a book, her pug, and forget her life.
Now, she’d have to put on makeup, change clothes, and pretend to be cheerful. Ugh. Why did I ever let him in here? Oh, yeah. I need the money. She washed her face, applied makeup, and searched her closet.
Nothing sexy. God forbid! This man doesn’t need any encouragement. Why do I say that? He hasn’t come on to me. In fact, he said I wasn’t bad looking. Really? I’ll show him.
She picked out a peach colored jersey dress that crisscrossed in the front, hugging her hips and showing plenty of cleavage. A pair of black, patent leather slides set off her slim calves perfectly. She pirouetted in front of the full-length mirror, tossed her glossy locks, and smiled. We’ll see who’s ‘not bad looking,’ Mr. Jockstrap. Laughing at her own joke, she plucked a white shawl off a hanger and grabbed her small, black purse.
As she descended the stairs, she called out, “Did you feed Spike?”
At the sound of coughing, she looked up. Griff was choking on a drink, his eyes tearing as he stared at her.
“Are you all right?”
He nodded, sputtering a few times and coughing twice before speaking. His voice was raspy. “Fine. Didn’t expect…”
“What? Didn’t expect a woman who isn’t ‘bad looking’ to dress like this?”
He nodded. “I didn’t mean to insult you. It was a compliment, actually.”
“Not in my book. Did you feed the dog?”
Griff moved his gaze to her face. “I can’t find the dry food.”
“I don’t feed him dry food. Wet food.”
“Wet food? That’s not good. He should eat dry food.”
“He’s eating wet food, has been, and is doing fine. It’s here,” Lauren said, pointing.
“I’ll pick up a bag of dry.”
“You will not! I gave in and let you call him Spike. But I’m putting my foot down on his food. This is special. I buy it at the vet’s office and that’s what he’s getting.” Her brow furrowed, her lips compressed into a thin line, and she crossed her arms over her chest.
Griff raised his palms. “Okay, okay. Don’t throw a hissy fit. Feed him any shit you want.”
She unfolded her arms and blew out a breath. “Fine,” she said, picking up Spike’s empty bowl. “I give him about a third of a can each meal.”
“Got it.” Griff stepped back and let her fill the dish.
“Where are we going?” she asked, rinsing the food off the spoon after placing the dog’s dinner on the floor. Spike came trotting in to gobble down the mush.
“I was going to take you to The Clam Shack. But dressed like that? Nothing less than The Sweet Magnolia will do.”
Lauren smiled. She’d heard about the restaurant, the finest, most expensive in Monroe, but she’d never been. When Griff offered his arm, she curled her fingers around his biceps. Big mistake. The flexing of his muscle sent a shiver down her arm. She let go as if he was a hot coal. Don’t let his looks get to you. He’s a snake.
She glanced up at his broad shoulders barely contained by the fine fabric of his navy sports jacket. The white shirt set off his dark hair and brown eyes. Her pulse kicked up a bit when she realized she was going to the toniest restaurant in town with the best-looking, most sought-after bachelor in the entire state. Relax. He’s just a guy, like any other guy. Yeah, sure.
“Fantastic. Thank you,” she said, a broad grin on her face.
“I’ll have the prettiest girl in the county at my table.” He opened the door for her.
Is he sweet-talking me? Probably. Does he mean it? Doubt it. Still, I could get used to this. She hadn’t ever had this type of attention, even when she was dating Bob. With a toss of her head, she threw out the doubts and self-pity. Tonight, I’m going to be a princess and have fun.
He held the car door open for her, too. The buttery softness and rich scent of the finest, saddle-colored leather surrounded her, like an elegant sable cape. Cinderella for a night. I’ll take it. She snuggled down into the luxurious seat and threw a sexy look at Griff. His eyebrows shot up for a second before he matched her flirtation with one of his own.
The vehicle roared to life, carrying Lauren to a charming, old building attached to a mill. The maître d’ showed them to the best table, outside on a stone patio, a bit secluded, overlooking the mill wheel and the water that made it turn. The soft sound of the rushing brook soothed her frazzled nerves, as did the champagne cocktail the waiter brought.
Griff sat back and narrowed his eyes as he sipped his whiskey and soda.
Before he could speak, she jumped in, firing off the question most on her mind. “So, Mr. Quarterback, have you ever been married?”
“Nope. Not yet. Still waiting for the ri
ght woman.”
She gave a short laugh. “With the hundreds who have passed through your life, you haven’t found the right one yet? Maybe she doesn’t exist.”
“Hundreds? You mean thousands, don’t you?”
She choked for a moment on her drink. “Thousands? Really?”
“Just teasing. I don’t know how many. Never kept count. Women aren’t cattle.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“You sure have a low opinion of me, and you don’t even know me. Why?”
“You’re a professional athlete, a synonym for ‘man-whore’.”
“How do you know that?”
“Unlike you, I read. Newspapers, online articles…”
“You mean gossip columns and rumors. You’re right. I don’t read shit like that. Do you actually know any pro athletes?”
“I don’t. I admit it.”
“Most of them are family men.”
“You expect me to believe they aren’t playing around on the road?”
“They’re human. Maybe some of them have stepped out once or twice, but not most of them. They’re good guys. They go home to their wives, support their kids, and give a shitload to charity.”
Lauren opened her mouth then closed it. She sat back, looking at Griff, then took a sip from her glass. “Okay. Maybe I’ve been unfair. I don’t know them.”
“They’re men. Some good. Some bad. And they eat, sleep, breathe, and make love like other men. Their needs are the same.”
“What about you?”
“Except for being single, I’m no different.”
“Single. That means you don’t have to follow the rules?”
Griff sat up and leaned closer to her. “What rules?”
She laughed. “Gotta love your honesty.”
“Don’t judge me. Maybe I’m not as bad as you think.”
“And maybe you’re worse.”
He chuckled. “You’ve got balls. I’m taking you to the best place in town, and you insult me. Maybe I should skip out on the check and let you wash dishes.”
Lauren shifted in her seat. The waiter returned, and Griff signaled for another round. She avoided the quarterback’s gaze as the busboy removed their empty glasses.
“You wouldn’t do that, would you?” she asked, when they were alone.
“Of course not. I invited you. My treat. But you were worried, weren’t you?”
She shook her head.
“Oh yes, you were. Even if only for a second. What’s happened to you? You have no faith in men. Who did this to you? Your ex?”
Lauren took a deep breath. Tears threatened. Don’t cry. Don’t be a wimp. Stop it. “Life. Life did this,” she whispered. “Marriage. I’ll never marry again.”
“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”
“Not harsh. Safe. For me, it’s safer.”
“Boy, he must have done a number on you.”
“You could say that.”
Griff reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. But it wasn’t me. It wasn’t every man you’ll meet. You’ve got to let whatever it is go.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“I’ve had my own…challenges.”
“You? How could you have any…hard times? You lead a charmed life.”
He gave a rueful chuckle. “You don’t know how ridiculous that sounds.”
The server arrived with their drinks. Griff indicated they were ready to order. She chose the medallions of beef with mushrooms, and he selected the sirloin steak. Griff added salads with walnuts and bleu cheese to both. The waiter bowed and left. The gentle swishing of the water through the mill wheel was the loudest sound as they tasted their beverages and eyed each other.
“So, tell me about your…challenges, as you call them.” Lauren crossed her legs and sat back.
Griff cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. His gaze lowered to his glass then lifted it to her face. “This is personal stuff. I don’t want to see it on the front page of a tabloid.”
“You think I’d blab to the press?”
“You never know.”
“I wouldn’t. I promise. Should I pinky-swear?”
He chuckled. “Okay. You promise?”
“I do.”
He took a gulp and began, starting with the death of Kathy’s spouse. Lauren sat up, leaning in toward him as he spun his tale. She watched his facial expression change from happy to sad. The tone of his voice and the pace of his words started out matter-of-fact and slow, but gained in speed and intensity. She noticed him blink rapidly at a few parts.
He stopped when the food arrived, turning away. Hiding his feelings from a stranger? I get it. Can’t trust just anyone not to call the press.
“When she left, she took my family with her. Three thousand miles away. My life hasn’t been the same. So, when Spike came along…well, you know him. He’s amazing at plugging up a hole in your life.” Griff sliced off a piece of steak and put it in his mouth.
His story touched Lauren. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell me how your food is.”
She tasted her beef and made a cooing noise. “This is the best ever.”
“It’s a great restaurant.”
She put down her fork, reached across the table, and squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through. What you’ve lost.”
“They’re not dead, but might as well be. I call Sundays. Sometimes, they have time to talk, but more often, they don’t. Teenagers!” He shook his head.
“Do you want kids of your own?” she asked, trying to appear nonchalant.
“Hell, yeah. Got a ton of practice being a dad. It’s a deal breaker for me. Gotta have my own.”
Lauren’s chest tightened. Her hand shook, dropping her fork on the floor.
Chapter Six
Lauren was shocked that he wanted kids. Idiot! All men, even womanizers, say they want kids. So, he wants kids. He’s not interested in you, anyway. And you can’t stand him. So, what’s the problem?
But she didn’t hate him anymore. He’d ceased to be a cardboard cutout of a shallow, egotistical athlete. Empathy with his pain and loneliness opened her heart. She’d never known a man who would make those sacrifices for a sister and her children, or a man so generous, either.
But he wanted children, and Lauren didn’t know if she could have children, so she had to close off her growing feelings for Griff, or be vulnerable to the agony she had dealt with once before. Sadness swept through her. She toyed with her food as her appetite went south.
“Want a doggie bag?”
“I’d never feed such rich food to Spike.”
“For you. Lunch tomorrow?”
The waiter stood by, awaiting her answer. She nodded.
Griff shot her a warm smile. “Dessert? Coffee? They have an amazing chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting.”
Her stomach churned. One look into his dark brown eyes, and she began to lose herself. Her body grew warm as her private parts tingled. No, no, no. You can’t. Don’t do it. She shook her head, and he shrugged. “You go ahead. I couldn’t eat another thing,” she said, attempting to smile.
“Brandy?”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you mind if I do?”
“Of course not. Go ahead.” She chewed her lip.
After Griff placed his order, Lauren stood up. “Excuse me.” She made her way to the ladies’ room. It was elegant with real, cloth towelettes. She doused one with cold water and held it to her forehead then her cheeks. Some deep breathing calmed her. She resolved not to fall for him and definitely not to sleep with him. Her decision boosted her confidence, and she returned to the table. Griff was sipping his brandy, but stopped to rise from his chair.
His gallant gesture surprised her. With a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead, broad shoulders, wide chest, and a gleaming, white smile, he was irresistible, melting her resolve. She slid into her seat, trying to quiet the fluttering in her
heart and between her legs.
“You know all about me. Now, how about your story?” He leaned back, turning his attention to her, narrowing his eyes.
“Not much to tell. Not very pleasant. I’d rather not.”
“Hey, wait a minute. You can’t do that. Strip me bare and stay dressed.”
“Please. I don’t want to. There’s nothing to say. Some bad things happened to me. On top of that, my father’s dying, and that’s that.”
His smile dissolved at her words. “I’m so sorry to hear about your dad. Isn’t there anything they can do?”
“I’m afraid not. He’s been sliding downhill for a while. Now, time is running out.”
“What about your mom?”
“She’s living on the West Coast with some younger guy. They’ve been divorced for five years.”
“Wow. That sucks.”
“Yep. That about says it.”
“And the other stuff?”
She sensed blood rushing to her face. “I’d rather not. Please don’t push.” Her gaze rose to meet his.
He held up his hand. “Okay. You win. Silence, it is.”
Relief flooded through her. She didn’t think she could explain one more time that her brief affair with Bob had been only his way to get back at his ex-girlfriend. After a mishap with a broken condom, Lauren had found herself pregnant. Bob had stepped up to the plate, and they had married quickly at City Hall. Then, before her first trimester had passed, Lauren had miscarried.
How could she tell Griff, this amazing man, the truth? How could she admit that when she had asked Bob to try again, he’d refused, saying they’d “dodged a bullet.” A month later, he had requested a divorce. She couldn’t stand the pity she’d see in Griff’s eyes, knowing he’d think her a pathetic loser, unable to bear a child, deserted by her husband. The humiliation would be too great. She’d hold on to her secret, opening up only to Don and her support group.
All her dreams and plans for the baby she’d happily anticipated had vanished in one bloody afternoon. Then, she had been tossed aside like a pair of old galoshes. Rehashing the feelings brought bitterness to her throat. She took a gulp of water to wash it down.
Griff Montgomery, Quarterback Page 7