He straightened, setting Rebecca back on her feet. Her cheeks were flushed, and her chest rose and fell with each breath. And her eyes, those fucking beautiful eyes, were still telling him to take his shot. Brody Dixon wasn’t the type of guy to let an offer like that slide once, and definitely not twice.
Chapter Eleven
Rebecca could hardly catch her breath, and it had nothing to do with being twirled around the dance floor. Her head was spinning from the look Brody was giving her. Like she was the only woman in the world. Like there was no place else he’d rather be. Like he needed to kiss her more than he needed his next breath.
The music had stopped playing, but neither of them moved. Brody stepped closer. Close enough for her to smell his cologne—a delicious mix of woodsy spice—to see his eyes darken, and to hear his breath quicken. His gaze dropped to her mouth, setting a flurry of butterflies loose deep down in her belly, and then he dipped his head, pausing just before his lips touched hers.
And then…
…And then Miss Vicky clapped her hands.
The sharp sound caused them both to jump.
“That’s all for today,” she said before clapping her hands once again. Miss Vicky liked to start and stop her classes on time. Usually Rebecca appreciated her consistent punctuality, but at the moment, not so much.
Brody stepped back. He looked around the room at the people packing their bags and saying goodbye, then back to Rebecca. “What’s next?” he asked.
If there were ever two words loaded with more promise, Rebecca had certainly never heard them. All sorts of replies ran through her mind, ranging from “your place or mine?” to “how about we fuck in the back seat of that fancy car?” But then she remembered two things: his ridiculous car didn’t have a back seat, and she wasn’t nearly that brave. So, instead of finding some clever way to suggest they get really naked, really fast, she simply smiled and said, “Your reward.”
“I think I like where this is going.”
“Slow your roll, cowboy. I’m only offering to buy you an ice cream.” Because I’m a big fat chicken, she thought. But Brody either loved ice cream as much as he loved sex, or his comeback had been nothing more than an involuntary reaction, which wouldn’t have surprised her one bit. Flirting seemed to come as naturally to Brody as breathing. Either way, the look on his face certainly wasn’t disappointment. In fact, it looked like relief.
“Um, sorry to interrupt y’all.”
Rebecca and Brody turned as one to see Mitchell Bedford standing beside them with his crumpled baseball cap gripped tightly in his hands.
“Would it be all right if we took a picture?” He kicked his head toward the window and smiled. “But maybe, you know, outside.”
Brody chuckled. “Don’t want your buddies to see you in a dance studio?”
Mitch’s face turned bright red. “I’m already getting shit for not having my bachelor party at a titty bar,” he said.
“No worries, man. I totally get it. My teammates would bust my chops until play-offs if they saw me here.”
“Cool, cool. Thanks.”
“Do you mind?” Brody asked Rebecca.
“Not at all. I’ll say goodbye to Jenn and Cassie and meet you outside.”
Brody clapped a hand on Mitch’s shoulder as they headed for the door. “You coming to any games this season?” she heard him ask just before they ducked outside. Rebecca smiled. If history was any indication, Mitch would leave with not only a photo but a pair of tickets at will call.
“I don’t know how you pulled that off,” Jennifer said. She slung her bag over her shoulder. “But I don’t think I’ll have any more trouble getting Mitch to tag along on wedding errands.”
“You guys looked great out there,” Rebecca said. Truth be told, she’d spent more time staring at Brody than watching her clients, something Cassie had no doubt picked up on.
“I’m guessing the date went well?” she asked the minute they were alone.
“It was…interesting.” Rebecca wasn’t sure how else to describe an evening that began with a limo ride and dinner by the light of jumbotron and ended with cotton candy and a competition refereed by a carnival worker.
Cassie smiled. “Well, it must have been good interesting.” She hesitated for a moment. “Look, I want you out there as much as Olivia,” she said. That, Rebecca already knew. The two of them had been plotting and conspiring to fix her up pretty much from the day she was told she was in remission.
Rebecca knew what was coming next, so she went ahead and said it. “But?”
Cassie’s words came out in a rush. “But I’m not so sure if dating the next bachelor on a reality show is the way to do it.”
The sound Rebecca made was meant to be a scoff, but it came out more like a snort. “We’re not dating. We made a pact. I want a little adventure, and he needs to learn how to stop acting like a Neanderthal.”
“So, you two aren’t…?” Cassie raised her eyebrows.
“No, absolutely not. No way. Not at all.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of denial.”
Rebecca really needed to work on having a poker face when she wasn’t playing poker. But in this case, at least, it was true. She and Brody hadn’t had sex. And despite how promising that kitchen kiss had been, it was looking like they never would. “Not really.” She shrugged. “It’s just an arrangement. I scratch his back, he scratches mine.”
“At the risk of sounding like Olivia, I think Brody wouldn’t mind having a few nail marks on his back, but not from an arrangement.”
Rebecca was about to reply when movement outside the dance studio window caught her eye. The groom was gone, and Brody was posing for another photo. This one with a long-legged blonde who, despite her workout attire, looked as though she’d just stepped out of a salon.
“I appreciate your concern, Cassie, I really do, but I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about.” Her eyes darted over Cassie’s shoulder to the flirt fest still going on outside. “Brody’s about as interested in me as he was Miss Vicky.” She laughed, but even to her own ears it sounded forced. “Trust me, neither of us are his type.” The guy made a habit of dating smoking-hot girls. Although usually not for longer than a weekend.
“That’s not how it looked that night at the cookout.” Cassie leaned in and lowered her voice. “Hank said you two were eye-fucking—his words, not mine—during the entire poker game.”
There was no denying the attraction she’d felt for Brody right from the start. He’d knocked her on her ass in more ways than one. And he’d certainly seemed interested in her. A smile formed on Rebecca’s lips as she thought about the cheesy lines he’d laid on her that first day. In hindsight, it was undeniably sweet to think of the NFL’s smoothest operator completely thrown off his game. But he’d clearly recovered by the time they went on their date, so much so that it felt as though he was just going through the motions. And he not only never made any advances, now that she thought about it, she couldn’t recall even a single cheesy line. Not one. Hell, he’d had more moves—albeit predictable ones—when they were in Cole and Olivia’s kitchen. Then again, it did seem like he was about to kiss her just now when they were dancing…
“Maybe you’re absolutely his type, and he just never knew it before meeting you.”
Rebecca knew better than to think Brody was looking for a serious relationship with her—or anyone else, for that matter. Contrary to Cassie’s opinion, the entire world wasn’t a romance novel waiting to happen. Granted, she was talking to a woman who’d been swept off her feet by a real-life prince. But that was a one-in-a-million chance. A fairy tale come true. The exception, not the norm.
“He’s just looking for a good time.”
“And what are you looking for?”
Rebecca’s teeth sank into her bottom lip.
“Your sister-in-law gave me some advice right before I left for Georgia,” Cassie said, referencing the fateful trip where she met her Prince Charming.
&nbs
p; Rebecca rolled her eyes. Olivia wasn’t known for her subtlety. Or her filter. “I can only imagine.”
Cassie pressed on. “She reminded me that not every kiss has to end in true love.” She held up her hand before Rebecca could point out the obvious. “Don’t say a word. I know that’s how my story ended. But to be honest, when it began that first night, I truly only thought it was going to be a one-night stand. I’m not saying that’s what you should do with Brody, but maybe it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Maybe you could just loosen up and live a little.”
Live a little. Those were the exact words she’d said to Brody when she’d proposed their arrangement in the first place. Brody might not have been boyfriend material, but Rebecca would bet her book collection he could teach her a thing or two—okay, maybe twelve—in the bedroom. And without a doubt, those lessons would beat the hell out of floral school.
Rebecca glanced back through the window. Brody was leaning against the Batmobile, scrolling through his phone. He looked up and when he saw her watching, flashed a smile that sent warmth spiraling straight to her core. Maybe it was the endorphins talking, but for whatever the reason, she decided to give him a chance, not at being Mr. Right, but at being Mr. Right Now.
“When’s our next lesson?” he asked when she joined him on the sidewalk.
“You’re coming back for more?” Brody didn’t strike her as the type of guy who shied away from a challenge, let alone backed out of a deal, but still. She’d certainly put his resolve to the test. Most grooms could barely make it through that sort of day, and they had a lot more on the line.
“Gonna take a lot more than flowers and dancing to scare me away, darlin’.”
Rebecca didn’t know what pleased her more, the fact that he wanted to spend more time with her or the way he called her darlin’. She’d never imagined herself to be the type of girl who would enjoy such terms of endearment, but the way his Southern drawl cranked up to ten on the sexy scale was damn hard to resist.
“Name the day.”
“I was thinking Wednesday.” She had some follow-up blood work at the hospital the next day. She hadn’t even mentioned it to her brother, and she certainly wasn’t going to say anything to Brody. The doctor assured her it was routine, but nothing was routine once you’d been through chemo. The fewer people who knew about it, the better.
“Perfect. Wednesday it is, then.” He pushed a button on the key fob, and the car door began to lift. “But, Rebecca?”
She looked back at him just as she was about to duck into the car. “Yeah?”
He winked, and she nearly tripped into the gutter. “I’m calling the next play.”
Chapter Twelve
Brody was nothing if not disciplined. Two-a-day workouts back in high school—at the butt-crack of dawn and often in scorching temperatures—had been just the beginning. College, and then later the NFL, had turned him into a high-functioning athlete with the mind of a warrior. And yet one dance with a petite wedding planner and he’d folded like a cheap tent.
She’s your buddy’s sister.
You can only be her friend.
She’s off-limits.
Remember the code.
Everything he’d told himself had gone right out the window in what, two minutes? Some warrior he turned out to be. But in his defense, Brody had never met a woman who drove him crazy in so many ways. She was sweet and sexy and sassy as hell. And when she’d looked up at him with those wide, pleading eyes, all he could think about was lowering his lips to hers for a second taste.
Instinctively, Brody’s thoughts drifted back to the night in Cole and Olivia’s kitchen. The sight of Rebecca might have messed with his mojo at the park, but in that moment, it was game on. Her lips had been soft and tasted like strawberry thanks to the margaritas, and although she’d seemed surprised by his brazen move, there was nothing tentative about the way she kissed him back. She’d parted her lips to invite him in and let her fingers wind through his hair, and when she made that sexy little sound, the vibration against his lips had shot straight to his cock.
For a moment, he indulged his fantasy, letting his mind wander to what might have been. Would she have slept with him that night? Normally, Brody wouldn’t have even had to ask himself that question. But this girl was different, and if there was one thing he’d learned about Rebecca Halstead, she was unpredictable. Sometimes, like that charged moment on the dance floor, he knew she wanted him. But there were other times, so many other times, when it seemed like she’d rather bust his balls than put them to any other use.
He knew it was wrong, but there was nothing he could do to stop the images that flooded his mind…
Rebecca was on her knees, looking up with him with those same pleading eyes. Only this time it wasn’t a kiss she was after.
“I want to taste you,” she said. Her words came out on a breathy whisper.
He gazed down at her through hooded eyes as she leaned forward, teasing him as she flicked her tongue across the glistening tip of his cock. His hands found their way into her hair as she tortured him, teasing him with her fingers, lips, and tongue until his hips flexed forward in a silent plea for more. Only then did she take him all the way into her mouth, pulling him deeper until she found the perfect rhythm to drive him over the edge.
His eyes closed, and his breath hissed between his teeth. “Ah, fuck…”
A horn blared behind him.
“Ah, fuck,” Brody said again, only harsher. His eyes shot to the rearview mirror, where a dude was giving him the middle-finger salute. Probably a Packers fan, he thought as he punched the accelerator.
He distracted himself by running through the plays the offensive coordinator had sent him to look over. Brody had memorized each and every one until he knew them as well as he knew the alphabet, so it didn’t require quite as much concentration as he would have liked, but it was enough to take his mind off getting off.
Rebecca was waiting for him on the sidewalk outside her building. Unlike their previous date, or whatever he was supposed to call it, she wasn’t wearing a dress. And thank fuck for that. At least he wouldn’t have to spend the day driving around the city trying to keep his hand from wandering over to her bare leg. White denim rolled just past the ankle, a silky, copper-colored top, and a pair of gold sandals were a far cry from Monday’s peekaboo fabric.
But then she leaned into the car to greet him and her silky top slipped forward, giving him an eyeful of cleavage that, while far from a D cup, would still look fucking fantastic covered with his—
“Morning, Batman!” she said like someone who’d been out of bed for hours and had had at least two cups of coffee. “Or should I call you Bruce since you’re out of uniform?” She plopped herself into the bucket seat. “Damn, is it hot in here, or is it just me?”
Oh, it was definitely not just her, and it had nothing to do with the car’s temperature. But Rebecca didn’t wait for an answer, flirtatious or otherwise. “I swear this summer is turning out to be hotter than any I remember, and it’s barely started. Was it this hot where you lived last year? Boston, right? Do they have hot summers? Guess you didn’t really need to stay there in the off-season.”
Brody didn’t think she’d taken a breath since she got in the car. Maybe it was more like four cups of coffee. But whatever had her so amped, it put her squarely in the perky little sister category, which was exactly what he needed to get the image of her sexy alter ego out of his mind.
Until she cranked the A/C controls and directed the passenger vents right toward herself. Brody had tried his best not to notice the way the smooth fabric of her top pulled across her breasts, but the effect the blast of arctic air was having was impossible to miss. Her nipples pebbled into taut peaks just begging for his attention. It was all he could do not to brush his thumb across the tip, softly playing with her over the fabric before slipping his hand beneath the silk.
“What’s on the agenda today?” she asked, snapping him back into reality just as his fa
ntasy had him tugging one perfect pink nipple between his teeth.
“We’re going house hunting,” he said.
“For?”
“For me.”
“I don’t remember Realtor being in the deal.”
Brody cut his eyes at her. “Neither was wedding consultant.”
He had her there, and she knew it. Which was why instead of complaining about the fact that they were going to spend the afternoon looking at property, she started playing with the radio stations. Brody was fairly sure she’d picked an 80s satellite station in an attempt to punish him for the day he’d planned, but the joke was on her. Thanks to his mom, Brody had grown up on those tunes. He smiled to himself as Rebecca bopped along to Cyndi Lauper, making a mental note to add the station to the presets when she wasn’t looking.
They met his Realtor—a middle-aged woman whose jewelry looked like it weighed more than she did—at the first property, a luxury apartment on the banks of the Chicago River. From there, they went to a penthouse on Lake Shore Drive overlooking Oak Street Beach, one on Dearborn with a stunning view of the skyline, and another that sat at the edge of Lincoln Park. If he owned a pair of binoculars, Chunky Jewelry Lady pointed out, he could even see a few of the animal habitats in the zoo.
But his favorite by far was a six-bedroom unit that occupied the entire top floor of the Waldorf Astoria. With floor-to-ceiling windows and multiple terraces, the place reminded him of Cole and Olivia’s. He didn’t know exactly what features theirs had, but this place had a wine cellar, a home theater perfect for watching game film, a private, indoor pool, and a meditation room—although for the life of him, he was wasn’t quite sure what he’d do with that. And the best part? The place included round-the-clock room service courtesy of the hotel.
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