Game On (AN OUT OF BOUNDS NOVEL)

by Solheim, Tracy

  “What if the restraining order has the opposite effect?” she asked, staring out the windshield at a family of tourists making their way from the aquarium, a stuffed whale under the father’s arm as he held a sleeping toddler with the other. “What if it makes him angry and he does something else? I mean, he was pretty spaced out at the gala.” She finally braved a look at Donovan. His rich brown eyes softened as he took her hand in his.

  “Not gonna happen, Carly.” His voice was like velvet as he stroked her palm. “His grandfather won’t be pleased when he finds out about the restraining order and he’ll probably have him in rehab tonight. I’m sorry you had to put up with all the humiliating questions from the judge, but the laws against stalkers aren’t always that black and white. Like I said before, you did the right thing. Everything will be fine now.”

  Carly tried to give him a reassuring smile as he released her hand and pulled out of the parking lot. But she didn’t feel reassured. And deep down, she didn’t think Donovan did, either. She had the feeling he was as frustrated as she was, he was just a lot better at maintaining his cool. Carly also knew he’d never let anything happen to her. He was playing it by the book with the law, but she was aware of the efforts he’d put in place at the team’s training facility and within her neighborhood. The security guards at both places had received a severe briefing from Donovan earlier in the day.

  Leaning her head against the seat’s headrest, she closed her eyes as Donovan maneuvered through the late-day traffic mix of commuters leaving the city and tourists on foot. She knew he was right; she needed to get the restraining order, but it didn’t make her feel any better. The laws surrounding stalkers were loose and open to interpretation by the presiding judge. Aside from the assault in the hotel, Joel hadn’t done anything she could prove constituted stalking. Yes, he’d been leaving her red roses for weeks now. On her desk chair, her doorstep, the windshield of her car. No note ever accompanied the flowers, but she knew they were from him. He’d always ask her if she’d found them, usually in front of another reporter or insignificant Blaze personnel. The roses had stopped appearing since the altercation with Donovan and Shane outside her home several weeks ago.

  There had also been that time Joel followed her home, but was he a stalker? His grandfather had downplayed the incident in the hotel as a by-product of his drinking problem—a result of a troubled youth. Maybe his grandfather was right; he wasn’t dangerous, just a pest Carly should feel sorry for.

  Only, she didn’t feel sorry for him. What she felt was fear.

  It was a feeling she wasn’t familiar with. As a child, her mother had put her in harm’s way numerous times. But Carly had never felt frightened. Perhaps she’d been too young to know she should be scared. Later in life, after the death of her mother and then her grandmother, she’d felt lonely and apprehensive, but never true fear. Life had toughened her up. Why, then, was she succumbing to fear now? The email last night hadn’t been overly threatening, but it had set off alarm bells. She said a silent prayer of thanks for Shane’s unexpected arrival on her front porch the night before.

  At least thoughts of the previous night were helping to warm her up. She told herself that she should be ashamed of using Shane that way. But after Joel’s email, she hadn’t wanted to be alone and he was a means to an end. Of course, she knew she was lying to herself. Carly wanted him as much as he wanted her. Had they not been interrupted several nights before by the news of Bruce Devlin’s death, their fling would have been over and done with. So what if last night he was using her to forget the tragedy of his father’s death? She’d been able to offer him comfort in the only way he would accept it. What she had with Shane last night was just that—sex. Incredible sex, but nothing more. It was what they both had agreed to.

  Besides, Shane wasn’t happily-ever-after material. But there was nothing wrong with enjoying herself while she waited for Mr. Right. Except, of course, for the fact that it really didn’t bode well to be fooling around with a football player. Hadn’t she learned her lesson where professional athletes were concerned? Carly let out a soft sigh. Her wicked side would have to be happy with one night of hot, steamy sex for now. She couldn’t risk her job—or her heart—with anything more.

  Donovan interrupted her thoughts. “I have to let Hank know about the RTO, but I’ll let you handle telling the coach.”

  “I’m not telling Matt!” Carly whipped around to face him as they pulled into the parking lot of the training facility. “He’s got too much on his plate right now. My sister is finally feeling better and they’re leaving for a family vacation next week. I don’t want them worrying about me. Besides, you said everything will be fine now. You did mean that, right?”

  His lips were set in a grim line as he jerked the car into his assigned parking space at Blaze headquarters. He turned a stern glare on her, which probably worked when he as in the military but was having little effect on Carly. She didn’t flinch, only raising an eyebrow at him. Donovan let out a slow hiss before speaking. “I guess it’s your call. But when he comes at me with a baseball bat, I’m hiding behind you. Got it, gorgeous?”

  She manufactured a bright smile. “You’d better be glad this is a football team, then,” she teased. “Thank you, Donovan. For understanding. And for your help today.” Leaning across the center console, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

  “It was nothing. I’m just doin’ my job.” But she swore he blushed underneath his dark skin as an aw-shucks grin lit up his face. The chill finally left her body as the late afternoon sun bathed the parking lot with warmth.

  * * *

  “Did you know that more than one million women are victims of stalking every year?” Asia asked. The two women were walking to Carly’s office after Asia intercepted Carly and Donovan when they returned from the courthouse. Carly picked up on the meaningful glance the two exchanged, but she couldn’t get a word in edgewise to interrogate Asia on it. Frankly, she’d rather discuss what was going on between the team’s media rep and its security chief than listen to statistics on stalking.

  She’d had enough for one day.

  Unfortunately, Asia obviously spent the day surfing the Web and wasn’t going to be denied her press briefing. Trying to tune her out, Carly flipped on the lights of her office, stopping short when she spotted the rose on her desk chair. But this wasn’t Joel’s usual red rose. It was a beautiful Oceana rose, a brilliant peach color, with baby’s breath wrapped in the plastic. Asia stopped in midsentence, following Carly’s gaze.

  Spying the rose, Asia reached for the phone. “I’m calling Don,” she said.

  “No!” Carly said. Something was different. Forcing her feet to move forward, she picked up the delicate blossom with shaky hands. A note lay beneath it. When she saw her key chain lying beside it, her body relaxed and she allowed a smile to spread over her face. “It’s okay, Asia. This isn’t from Joel.”

  “You have multiple stalkers?”

  Laughing now, she read through the note.

  Dinner tonight. My place. S.

  He’d signed it with a big S similar to the way she’d signed her note to him this morning.

  “Nope, just a friend.” She lifted the rose to her nose and sniffed, hoping to restore her equilibrium.

  Asia crossed her arms across her chest. “Spill it, girlfriend.”

  “Sure, when you tell me everything that’s going on between you and Donovan,” Carly said, aiming a smug smile at her friend.

  Asia turned on her heel and left as quickly as her cane could carry her.

  “That’s what I thought!” Carly called after her with a laugh. She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face now if she tried. Shane’s note had resurrected the happy afterglow brought on by a great night of sex. Her day at the courthouse was pushed to the back of her mind as her body hummed with thoughts of Shane.

  She shouldn’t see him again. They’d agreed to one nig
ht—and what a night! There was no harm in a little dinner, though, Carly rationalized. A girl had to eat.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Carly pulled into Shane’s garage and parked her car next to his. She’d called him earlier and they’d agreed not to advertise her presence at his house. Too many Blaze employees lived in the neighborhood and could recognize her car. She knocked on the mudroom door.

  “It’s open! Come on in,” he called from inside the house.

  Beckett greeted her with a slobbery tennis ball as she emerged into the kitchen. Something was sizzling on the industrial-sized stove. Butter and garlic, from the smell of it. She brushed her fingers over Beckett’s head as Shane turned from the pot he was stirring.

  He looked delicious, dressed in a pair of ancient Levi’s, worn out in all the right places. A T-shirt advertising a San Diego microbrewery stretched perfectly over his broad, sculpted chest. His feet were bare and his hair damp as if he were fresh from the shower. Turning from the massive cooktop, he tossed a dish towel over his shoulder, greeting her with his now-familiar wolfish grin. Tingling began in the pit of her belly.

  “Hey there,” he said, his voice husky as his eyes took in her dark blue suit like a man who knew exactly what she wore underneath it—which he did. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  It was all she could do not to lick her lips. She stepped out of her high heels and slowly strolled across the kitchen, stopping inches from him. She could feel the heat of his body—or was it hers? A little sigh of satisfaction escaped her mouth at his indrawn breath when her hands came in contact with his taut abs. Slowly, she slid her hands up his chest before wrapping them around his neck. The look in his eyes told her everything she wanted to know.

  “I’m starving,” she whispered before pulling his lips down to meet hers. Her resolve to keep tonight dinner-only evaporated as quickly as the steam escaping the pot on the stove behind them. She lost control of the kiss instantly as Shane devoured her mouth, his tongue pressing in and exploring all of her. It was a heady sensation, his kiss. One her body couldn’t seem to get enough of. Somehow his hands had already found their way beneath her skirt, but he stopped kneading her bottom long enough to reach behind him to turn off the gas.

  “I planned on eating right away, but I guess we can enjoy some appetizers first,” he said, kissing the side of her mouth. Then he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around him, her skirt riding up to her waist as his hands continued to caress her backside while he carried her to his bedroom.

  * * *

  “So, where did you learn to cook?” Shane looked across the table at Carly. She’d pulled on one of the dress shirts he’d left by his bed when he unpacked earlier that day. The wrinkles in the shirt and her rumpled hair made her look as if she’d just tumbled out of bed—which she had. Her skin still held a trace of pink and her blue eyes sparkled against the blue of the shirt. Spearing another bite of sea bass with her fork, she waited for him to answer.

  “The Food Network.” He fiddled with the stem of his wineglass as he watched her enjoy the grilled fish and pasta.

  “Seriously?” she asked.

  “Rachael Ray, Sandra Lee, and food. What’s not to love? Besides, a guy’s gotta eat. If you can read and follow a recipe, you can cook.” He took a sip of his wine.

  She laughed. “It figures. I’ll bet you love Giada, too.”

  “Hey, I’ve been told my linguini in clam sauce is to die for.” He watched as she speared another piece of fish. She closed her eyes as she chewed and swallowed, a look of bliss on her face.

  He could watch her eat all night.

  Shane was glad she enjoyed the food he’d prepared. Thankfully, she wasn’t one of those women who counted every calorie, analyzing every morsel before putting it in her mouth. And her body was none the worse for wear in spite of it. His hands and mouth had covered every inch of her over the past twenty-four hours and he could testify to the fact that she was luscious and firm in all the right places. He’d frequently seen her working out in the gym at the training facility, so he knew she wasn’t careless about her body image, just not obsessed with it. It was one of the things he liked about her.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, dragging his thoughts back to the present. Crossing her forearms on the table, she leaned her breasts on top of them, giving him a great view down the front of her—his—shirt.

  He smiled. “I was just thinking that it’s nice to eat with a woman who actually enjoys food. No whining about a special diet or stressing over the ingredients.”

  “Ah.” She leaned back, picking up her wineglass as she did so. “You mean those anorexic/bulimic Hollywood types you date. I’ll bet it’s a drag having to use laxative as the main ingredient of every meal,” she teased as she took a sip of wine.

  He laughed with her. “Yeah, well. I gave up cooking for women.”

  She raised an eyebrow in question.

  He saluted her with his wineglass. “I made an exception for you.” Relaxing, he leaned back in his chair, stretching out his jean-clad legs, crossing his bare feet at the ankles.

  “I feel so honored.” She smiled at him. “Do your teammates know of your culinary talents?”

  “Most of the guys on my old team did. I would cook for the offensive line a lot. They were big into ribs and Mexican. No one teased me about it, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Not if they wanted to eat. “You ever cook for the soccer player you were engaged to?”

  He wasn’t sure what prompted him to ask. By virtue of his celebrity status, she knew everything about him. Shane wanted to even the score and know more about her love life. He didn’t want to examine why he even cared, but he did.

  “Not that often,” she said. “I know my way around the kitchen, but I’m not that big into cooking. The kitchen was always Julianne’s domain.”

  She’d deftly shifted the conversation off her fiancé, but Shane wasn’t going to let her leave the subject.

  “Tell me about him.”

  A long silence stretched as Carly toyed with her wineglass and Shane tried not to look like her response was important to him. Except it was.

  “Max is a lot like Julianne: passionate and demonstrative and very Italian,” she finally said. Her words were spoken softly in a voice tinged with melancholy. “It’s easy to get caught up in his larger-than-life personality. It was also easy to drown in it. I thought I could handle it. And everything that went with it.”

  Seeing the sadness reflected in Carly’s eyes, Shane felt like a jerk, wishing he’d let her change the subject when she’d attempted to.

  Carly chewed on her bottom lip before continuing. “I think he liked the idea of marrying a woman who was as notorious as he was in the tabloids. It ensured he’d always get the media attention he thought he deserved. I was stupid and naïve enough to believe he loved me for who I was as a person, not as a personality.”

  Shane forced himself to keep his body relaxed when inside he wanted to hit something. “The guy didn’t deserve you.” The words didn’t adequately express the feelings swirling around in his head, but he didn’t know how to deal with those, so he kept it simple.

  Carly smiled sadly. “I’m just happy he followed his heart before we both made a big mistake.”

  Shane stared at her. Surely she isn’t that forgiving? “Yeah, he lives happily ever after and you’re made the scapegoat by the paparazzi. Somehow I don’t think that’s fair.”

  “I learned a long time ago that life isn’t fair, Shane.”

  He shook his head. Was it possible this woman had thicker skin than he did?

  “So now you’re spending your life waiting for an accountant or a podiatrist? Or was it an actuary and a proctologist?” Shane teased, trying to steer the conversation back to a lighter topic.

  Carly’s eyes grew wide and her mouth formed a perfect O. “You were eavesdropping outside my office
that day!”

  He shrugged, giving her his best Devlin grin.

  Carly shook her head in exasperation with him. “I’ve learned to be careful who I date. Most guys either want to save the little girl they saw in the movie about my mother. Or, they’re after my aristocratic title and the trust fund that comes with it.”

  “Not me,” he drawled. “I just want you for your body.”

  She buried her face in her hands. He couldn’t tell if she was laughing or embarrassed. When she lifted her head, her eyes were shimmering. She took a deep breath.

  “About that, Shane. We really need to talk.”

  “Ugh. That has to be the most dreaded phrase in the female vocabulary,” he said, sitting up in his chair and leaning across the table. “Let’s not analyze this, Carly.” He took her hand, resting his palm against hers, intertwining their fingers. “Let’s just live this. I’m not going to kiss and tell and neither are you. We both know this isn’t forever. It’s just two people enjoying each other. When it’s over, it’s over. Let’s just take it one night at a time. Okay?”

  Pulling her hand to his mouth, he placed an openmouthed kiss on her palm, enjoying the feel of her shiver beneath his lips. Neither one of them was immune to the other’s touch. She nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip as she did so.

  Together, they finished what was left of their meal and cleaned the kitchen. The intimacy of the domestic scene should have unnerved him, but it didn’t. Carly stood beside him at the sink, barefoot and naked underneath his shirt, her hip brushing his thigh. They washed and dried the dishes while talking about their similar, dysfunctional childhoods. They laughed over stories of boarding school. They talked about their favorite foods: she craved Thai; he loved Mexican. Their favorite music: he liked grunge rock—Pearl Jam and the Red Hot Chili Peppers; she was a Top 40 girl who loved the international artists. Both loved Springsteen. He’d seen him five times; she’d seen him three. Before he knew it, the kitchen was spotless and darkness had fallen in spite of the summer solstice. She leaned against the kitchen counter looking sexy as hell with her hair covering one eye.