“How romantic.”
Both of her hands were submerged, and she watched in fascination as his left hand sank into the clean water. It tangled with hers, massaging her knuckles gently.
“I haven’t even gotten started.”
She hitched in a breath and stared outside, and saw members of the soccer team cleaning up. It only made Sam’s movements and the sensations she was experiencing as he stroked her fingers under the water more intimate.
Mariella turned to look at him, her heart beating even more wildly now. “Sam, don’t.”
She jerked her chin toward the window. “Someone could come in and see.”
He removed his hands slowly, and then flicked some suds toward her. “You’re no fun.”
“I am, too,” she protested, despite his good-natured tone. “Under the right conditions.”
“And doing dishes together isn’t one of them?”
She laughed. “Usually not.”
“I bet I can persuade you.” He leaned his right hip against the sink, stuck his hand inside the water and began to massage her hands again.
“I’m only doing this because the water is clean.”
She laughed, stared into his eyes and quickly looked away in case anyone outside glanced over at the window.
“I’m glad you have some standards.”
“I do. And you beat them all.”
Her face heated, and he started to work his way to her wrist, and then up her arm.
Suddenly, she heard the sound of the kitchen door opening. It was Leslie, a disconcerting smirk on her face.
Had she seen?
Sam jerked his hands out of the sink and grabbed a nearby dishtowel. She grabbed a casserole dish and plunged it deep into the water. When little bits of brownie floated to the surface, she realized the dish belonged to Leslie.
Leslie looked at the two of them, and Mariella could practically see the wheels of the gossip machine that lived in her brain turning.
“Hey, some of the parents are looking for you,” she said, addressing Sam. “They want to say goodbye.”
“Go on, Sam,” Mariella urged. “I can get these.”
When Sam was gone, Leslie stepped into Sam’s place, but did not offer to help.
“He’s a nice guy, isn’t he?” she asked.
Mariella shrugged. “Of course. Anyone can see that.”
“You, more than anyone.”
The bright pink headband she wore in her blond hair suddenly annoyed Mariella, almost as much as her line of questioning.
“What do you mean by that, Leslie?”
“He’s single. You’re single.”
She turned on the faucet and rinsed the dish clean.
“So are a lot of people in Bay Point. What are you getting at?”
“Just be careful, Mariella. People see, and people talk. You don’t want Sam to lose his coaching position because of inappropriate behavior, do you?”
She dried Leslie’s baking dish and handed it to her.
“Don’t worry about me, Leslie. I can take care of myself.”
Chapter 5
Thirty minutes later the soccer players who remained helped load the folding tables into her car to be returned to the school on Monday, before leaving with their parents.
Josh decided to walk Emily home, and she and Sam waved goodbye to them from the top of the driveway.
Mariella went to the backyard, and smiled when he followed her. She grabbed a blanket from the basket and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was more a gesture of habit, rather than actually being cold.
Even though they hadn’t done anything wrong, after the unsettling conversation with Leslie, her nerves were still on edge.
Mariella shivered, her body still humming with pleasure from Sam’s touch. There was no reason for him to stay with her any longer, yet she was glad he didn’t leave.
“Thanks for a great event.”
“We had great weather, and I think everyone enjoyed themselves. That’s all I can ask for.”
“I stayed behind because I wanted to talk to you about Josh.”
She hugged the blanket around her and frowned.
“What’s the problem now? I thought you said today his playing had improved.”
“It has, so much so that he is among those I’m considering for team captain.”
She clapped her hands together, relieved. “He will be so excited if he’s chosen.”
Sam nodded. “I’m really happy with not only his performance, but also his leadership.”
“Just don’t push him too much. That’s my job.”
Her voice grew soft with regret. “Sometimes I feel like I expect too much from him. I’m being too overprotective, aren’t I?”
He closed the gap between them and huddled the blanket more neatly around her shoulders.
“You’re just being a mom. I wouldn’t expect any less.”
It wasn’t the most romantic thing to say, but when Sam’s forehead grazed hers, and idled there, she knew he wanted to kiss her. It was a tense crackle of an invite, tempting her to place her hands around his neck and make the first move.
She knew she should push him away, but she couldn’t.
Leslie’s warning, which in retrospect felt more like a subtle threat, waved a white flag in the back of her mind.
To quibble about its meaning would be to take herself out of the moment, but making the wrong choice could have lasting impact.
Then why did the wrong thing feel so right?
Face-to-face now, his gray eyes were ruminative and his brow furrowed as if he was thinking of the potential consequences, too. She couldn’t read his mind, but she could feel the heat between them, threatening to ignite.
This was what she’d hoped for. A gorgeous man, his lips mere inches away, her body craving more.
She let the blanket fall to the ground.
There was a tangible sense that she should let go of herself and fall into him, but still she hesitated. Frozen in place, but melting underneath.
She brought her hand up to his face, likely smooth in the morning, rough stubble now in the night. His intake of breath was slight, like the breeze before a windstorm. In the moonlight, his eyes, blunt under the influence of desire, searched hers.
Closing her eyes, she felt his warm breath on her skin. His lips brushed hers, drawing in a searing pleasure in the pit of her stomach, and her toes to their tips.
Sam grasped her arms at her sides, and she stood frozen in place, kissing him back. Her desiring him, him wanting her, was like trying to wade out of quicksand. It was futile. Slowly, they would get sucked in and plunge into its depths.
But at least they’d have fun on the way down.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed against her upper thigh.
“Damn,” he muttered. “I have to go.”
“It’s okay, Sam. I understand.”
She thought it was odd he didn’t check his phone to see who it was. Whoever it was, he or she was more important than being with her.
Sam reached for her hand and tried to bring it up to his lips, but she slipped away. The chaste kiss on the cheek he gave her before he left only heightened the sense that something had been lost, that she’d been cheated out of much-needed intimacy.
Back in the kitchen Mariella finished cleaning the rest of the dishes while waiting for Josh to return home.
The interruption was an unwanted wake-up call. A time to step off, step back and face facts. She was treading on some very dangerous ground, and she wasn’t the only one who could get hurt.
* * *
Sam turned off his phone, something he now wished he’d done prior to the party. He pulled out of Mariella’s driveway, hating to leave her. Ever since they met, he’d known it would be a challenge to keep his attraction
under wraps.
Tonight was no different.
God, he’d wanted to smash his lips on hers, make her a part of him and kiss her like she’d never been kissed before. He’d been so turned on, touching and massaging her hands in the soapy water, he’d nearly gone out of his mind.
At a red light, he closed his eyes briefly and saw again the disappointment on Mariella’s face before he walked away.
She’d wanted him to kiss her, and keep on kissing her, perhaps for the rest of the night. They had shared a short but passionate kiss that was pleasurable for them both. Still, he didn’t want to hurt her, and by the look in her eyes tonight, that was exactly what he did. She probably would never let him near her again.
Sam eased off the brake and continued on his way home, not at all eager to get to his quiet, lonely apartment.
Having traveled all over the world, Sam never wanted to settle down in one place or with one woman. He’d come to realize Mariella could change his mind, and that scared him. If anyone could move past his wealth, his fame and see he was really just a simple guy at heart, it would be her.
He wanted her, and for more than one night. The interruptions, first by Leslie, then by technology, should have deterred his lust, but they didn’t.
Her beauty and sensual curves were a wonderful bonus. Every time he saw her he was reminded of how tempting she was, but those weren’t the main things that attracted him to her.
Mariella was down-to-earth, and he had a hunch she would be loyal to him, unlike some of the other women he’d allowed himself to be close to.
He licked his lips, but the taste of her was gone and he wasn’t sure when he’d get the chance to kiss her again. The team’s first game was tomorrow and he’d be incredibly busy for the next several weeks.
If she wants to see me, I’ll make the time.
Sam rolled down his window and smiled warily. It felt good to make some sort of decision about their relationship, even if they were in the very early stages.
Breathing in the salt-scented air, he bypassed his apartment and decided to go to the beach for a while before going home. The sound of the waves would calm him down, so maybe he could get a good night’s sleep.
He rubbed his stomach, remembering how Mariella had brought him a plate of food. The barbecue was more fun than he’d thought. The parents were friendly and welcoming, and he’d enjoyed sharing stories about his career as a pro player. Nobody asked for his autograph, or pressed him about when he’d be back playing full-time. For a few hours it was easy to forget he’d once been in the public eye.
It was a nice feeling. Being a normal guy, instead of a famous one. He’d grown tired of always being on guard. One wrong word, one date with the wrong woman, and heaven forbid, a mistake on the field, brought on a firestorm of media attention. In some cases, the stuff said about him was so outrageously untrue, he could have sued for libel.
In the last two months of his pro career, he had been so frustrated he just wanted the season to end.
“Be careful what you wish for,” he muttered as he pulled into the beach parking lot.
Though he knew it was impossible, sometimes he wondered if he’d brought his injury upon himself. Maybe he’d wanted change so much, forces in the universe had worked to bring his life to a complete halt. Or perhaps he’d just had a run of bad luck.
Whatever the cause, it had led him to Bay Point, and Mariella. Meeting her was making him rethink his whole outlook on everything.
Sam selected a spot away from other vehicles and turned off the ignition. Though it was dark outside, it would be easy enough to walk down to the beach, kick off his shoes and dig his toes into the sand. But he decided to stay in his car. He powered on his phone and it rang almost immediately.
“Tell my mother the answer is no.”
Niles, his sports agent, laughed. “Is that why you didn’t pick up before? You know I can’t do that. Nobody can.”
Sam blew out a breath as his frustration came galloping back. “I have. Hundreds of times.”
“And has she listened?”
“Never.”
Niles chuckled again, and Sam wondered where he was this time. The short-statured man with a pudgy stomach and salt-and-pepper comb-over loved to travel to expensive locales where he could don his beloved Madras shorts, have a fruity cocktail and make deals for his clients.
“It’s not just her, it’s everyone in the country. Haven’t you been reading the papers?”
Sam stared out his window at the waves, wishing he could dive in and disappear.
“Thankfully, I haven’t seen those papers in the States. And I hate reading papers online.”
“So do I, so I’ll keep it brief,” Niles replied begrudgingly. “I’m getting emails from fans around the world. I need you back on the field.”
“No, you need an assistant.” Sam smirked.
“Quite so.” Niles laughed. “But he or she would never make me the kind of money I stand to make with you.”
Sam could imagine Niles chewing on the end of one of the Cuban cigars he preferred, but never smoked.
“And nobody could stand being with you.”
When Niles began to protest, Sam cut in. “Your words, not mine. Remember?”
“I just prefer to work alone. That’s not wrong.”
“Nor is me being tired of hearing how disappointed everyone is that I’m not playing for Valor anymore.”
“You owe it to your fans!” Niles insisted.
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose to stem off the headache beginning to surface.
Just because he was famous didn’t mean he was required to explain every decision. It wasn’t the constant travel or the soccer groupies that seemed to follow him everywhere. He simply wanted a break. Time just for him, for reflection and for figuring out what he really wanted out of life.
“I don’t owe anybody anything.”
“You’re sounding a bit like Scrooge, my friend.”
“Bah humbug,” Sam grumped in agreement.
“Listen to me, Sam. I’m concerned about your welfare. Guys as competitive and as talented as you are don’t have an easy time transitioning out of the pros.”
“I kind of had a little help, Niles. Care of three little letters. A-C-L. Remember?”
“You’ve got that beat. Are you seeing the physical therapist I told you about? And did you ever find a gym in that godforsaken town? It’s important that you stay in shape.”
Sam couldn’t help but smile. Niles was obsessed with making money, but at least he made his clients feel cared about as he filled his own coffers.
“The therapist is great, I joined the gym the other day and by the way, I kind of like Bay Point.”
Mariella had a lot to do with it, but that was none of his agent’s business.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.” Niles sounded aghast. “How is the coaching job?”
“It’s fine. It’s different than playing, for sure, but I like being able to run things my way.”
“Taking some cues from your former coach?”
Leo Minor, apparently named for the lesser lion constellation, was prone to yelling and screaming to get his way. No guy wanted to be a victim of his very loud roar.
Sam grunted. “If I did, most of my team would probably quit.”
“Regardless of his methods, he knew how to win.”
“Be a good agent and wish me good luck. We have our first game tomorrow.”
“I’m raising my cocktail in your honor,” Niles replied. “I hope you’re successful, but not too successful. I’m expecting you back in Brent in a few months.”
“I’m not promising anything, Niles.”
“Just promise me you’ll look at some of the offers I emailed your way this morning,” he begged.
“It’s Saturday
already for you. Go back to sleep.”
Sam ended the call and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, not caring if Niles was offended by his abruptness. But he felt even guiltier about leaving Mariella for a conversation that had only made him angry, and for putting soccer first, when in that passionate moment, that hadn’t been necessary.
When he’d been recovering in the hospital, he’d begun to realize how much of his life he’d lived on autopilot. Since childhood, he had been programmed to compete and to win, at all costs.
Now, unable to play at the same level he had before, his belief in himself had been crushed. He had to find something else, or someone else, to believe in.
Soccer just wasn’t enough anymore.
He started the SUV and backed out of the empty lot.
Maybe it wasn’t fair to either of them, and maybe it wasn’t right, but he had to see Mariella again.
Tonight.
* * *
Leftovers are evil, Mariella thought as she made space for one more plastic container in the refrigerator. Most of her guests ignored her plea to take them home, probably figuring Josh would eat them.
They were right.
As soon as he returned from Emily’s house, he had a snack before going upstairs. If he didn’t consume the rest of the food by the end of the day tomorrow, into the trash it would go.
After washing her hands, she set the teakettle on the stove and turned on the gas. Then she unwrapped a piece of cake she’d managed to snag before it was all gone and placed it on the kitchen table. Since she was denied the sweetness of a longer kiss from Sam, she was going to enjoy every bite.
A gentle breeze rustled the yellow café curtains that hung at the window above the sink. She stood nearby and wondered if she’d ever wash another dish without thinking about Sam, or get an answer to the question that was on a constant loop in her mind.
Who had called him and what was so important he had to leave right away?
An insistent knock on the back door startled her. The teakettle whistled annoyingly at the same time. On tiptoe and on edge, she leaned over the sink, parted the curtains and looked out.
Sam! What was he doing back here?
Mariella rushed to the stove, turned off the kettle, and then walked calmly to the door and opened it.
Winning Her Holiday Love Page 8