He stood just outside the illuminating radius of the porch light, so his expression was unreadable. Though Mariella was excited to see him, she could only manage a tight smile.
“I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow, at the game.”
“Can I come in?” he asked, with his hands behind his back. “I promise this won’t take long.”
She nodded and stepped back so Sam could close the door. When they got into the kitchen, he appeared troubled.
“I have a confession to make.”
At his words, she put her hand on her chest, expecting the worst.
“What is it?”
He kept his eyes on hers, and his gaze was so penetrating and kind, she relaxed even though she didn’t know what he was going to say.
“I missed you, and this time I couldn’t go to sleep without letting you know it.”
“You mean you’ve missed me before?”
Her innocent tone belied the torrent of warmth rushing through her veins. When he nodded, she dropped her hand to her hip and fought back a wide smile.
“You could have called.”
He took a step toward her, reached out a hand and stroked her hair. “No, I had to say it in person. And more important, I wanted to apologize for leaving so suddenly.”
Mariella resisted the urge to lean into his touch, not sure what he wanted from her.
“Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?”
“I do, but I’m not sure you will like what I have to say.”
Her heart fell, and she backed away from him, glad she’d decided to be cautious.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge? Would you care for some tea? The kettle is already hot.”
He nodded and she walked over to the small cupboard that held all her teas. Her hand shook as she put one Orange Blossom tea bag each in two mugs, poured the water and brought them to the table. Sam declined her offer of sugar, honey or milk.
“I like my tea plain, too.”
Mariella sat down next to him and dipped her tea bag back and forth in the water, before setting it on the saucer she’d placed on the table earlier.
Sam did the same, and when he was done, he took a tentative sip. “Delicious. Did you know in Great Britain, there’s a science to making tea?”
Mariella gave him a wry glance. “It’s just hot water and a tea bag. What’s so scientific about it?”
“I’ll teach you sometime. Believe me, you’ll notice the difference in taste.”
She took a sip, wondering about his motives. “You’re going to teach me soccer and how to make tea the British way? Sounds like you’re planning to stick around.”
“Would you like it if I did?” he asked, touching her hand.
She set her mug on the table, cupped her palms around it and didn’t look at him.
“I don’t know how to answer that, Sam.”
“How about the truth?”
He gently lifted her hands into his and Mariella began to tremble.
“I don’t know. It’s too soon to say, and I don’t understand why you are asking me.”
“Maybe I’m just looking for a reason to stay in Bay Point. You can be that reason.”
Mariella felt her heart fill with hope, but she still had to be careful. If he wanted the truth from her, she deserved the same.
“Who called you on the phone tonight?”
Sam sat back, and her hands slipped from his. The night breeze came through the window, almost extinguishing the red peppermint-scented candle on the table. Though he didn’t seem shocked by her question, he watched the flame flicker before answering.
“My agent. He and my mother are both pressuring me to return home, right after the season ends.”
She faced him and raised a brow. “Do they realize the season is just beginning?”
“They believe in planning for the future.”
His grim smile noted he wasn’t happy about the intrusion.
“And your agent?”
“Niles just wants my money.”
She leaned over and blew out the candle, wishing his mother and his agent would both go poof.
“And you don’t want to go back?”
“I’m not sure. It’s too early to tell.” He paused as if measuring his words. “You see, I came here for the wrong reasons, and now I want to stay for the right ones.”
Mariella’s ears perked up. Was it because of the injury to his knee? In her view, the aftereffects were barely noticeable. He hadn’t limped at all during the barbecue. Or was it something else?
Not sure she wanted to know the answer, she pushed her mug away, and the contents slopped over the rim. She grabbed a rag from the sink, mopped up the spill and remained at the counter when she was done.
“How will you know?” She bit her lip as he got up and joined her.
Sam tapped his forehead to hers, and she held her breath as he looked deeply into her eyes.
“It’s all going to depend on you.”
“Me?”
“On whether you’ll let me kiss you again. This time, with no interruptions.”
He traced her hairline with one finger, and his nearness made her shiver with anticipation.
“No interruptions?”
He shook his head and cupped her face in his hands as if he was handling something exquisite and fine.
“Ever since we met, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
His voice sounded tortured, and sent a tingle down her spine.
“You didn’t have to come back here tonight,” she whispered. “But I’m glad you did.”
Sam pulled her close and she leaned her head against the warm, hard ridge of his collarbone. She could feel the solid length of his desire against her belly, and her knees went weak.
“Maybe if I kiss you, just once more, for good luck, I can walk out of here and we can just be friends.”
Mariella lifted her chin. “Why don’t you try it and see?” she challenged, looking deeply into his eyes.
Sam touched his nose to hers, and she felt prickles of pleasure as the tip of his tongue darted into the hollows at the edges of her mouth.
She pursed her lips, and as he licked the delicate bow in the middle, she opened them and sucked in his tongue.
Little by little, she took his flesh into hers, enjoying his groan of delight as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and tasted hot, unrelenting need.
He backed her up against the counter and broke the kiss, burying his head deep into her neck, licking her there into submission. His tongue lapped at her skin, slow and sensuous, and she swore she could feel every one of his taste buds on her skin.
Mariella mewed low and curled into him, tilting her pelvis forward, trying to get as close as possible to the hard bulge pressing against her.
The breeze blew through the kitchen, cooling the wet skin of her neck, and she leaned away, shivering. He opened his eyes briefly, and then captured her lips again.
She pulled him closer, resisting the urge to roll her abdomen back and forth against him. Doing so would put her over the boiling point, yet doing nothing made her head swoon with desire.
Let him know you want him.
With a low moan, she cleaved her mouth to his with no shame. Her mind whirled away any fear as their embrace deepened.
Let him know so he’ll never forget.
They kissed for a long moment, and then she broke contact. She leaned her elbows back on the counter and opened her eyes. There was a thin veil of sweat on his forehead as Sam stepped forward, ensuring there were no gaps between their bodies.
“Where are you going?” he muttered thickly.
“Well, Coach Kelly,” she murmured, looping her hands around his neck. “What’s the verdict?”
“First, kissing is one thing I don’t have to teach you.”
Mariella smiled and nuzzled his bottom lip with the tip of her nose. “And the second?”
“I want to kiss you more.”
She laughed and he brought his lips back down to hers, but she dodged the kiss, and sank her mouth into the side of his neck.
Mariella inhaled his scent, mild soap with hints of smoke from the barbecue. Without warning, her tongue darted out from her mouth to taste his skin, and she felt his stomach cave in. To know she could shock him, could control him somehow, gave her a boost of pleasure in her loins.
“Woman, you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he groaned.
He lifted one hand to her right breast, making her mouth water. The fabric of her dress and her silk bra underneath were thin, and her nipple puckered to life at his touch.
Sam whistled low. “But I can feel what I’m doing to you, baby.”
Breathing hard, he flicked his thumb over the large, tight nub. Her arms went slack at her sides and she gasped when he pinched it and held on for a few seconds. He tugged her nipple gently toward him as if he wanted to see if it would puncture right through her clothes.
Mariella traced the tight cords of his neck with her nose, disoriented with pleasure, as he cupped and lifted both of her breasts in his hands. Drawing a tortuous circle on each nipple with the pads of his thumbs, she became conscious of the dampness between her legs.
It was clear he meant to drive her crazy. She licked at his mouth, taking great care at stroking his lips with her tongue. Laying her cheek against his, she brought her hands around to his back and began to massage the thick muscles there. She felt his body relax into hers, and his low grunts echoed into her ear.
This is madness, she thought, as he kissed her again, even more urgently than before. And she tried to keep up with his heart-pounding, pent-up passion. Her body alert to the hardness of his, she clung to him as their tongues competed for purchase within each other’s mouths. Through the haze of their kisses, she suddenly pushed him away.
“Hey, what’s wr—?” Sam asked, eyes glazed over.
She shook her head wildly, turned toward the window and pulled at the front of her dress, hoping that was enough to force her nipples back to a normal state.
Before she was...before they were...
“Mom, I’m hungry. Are there any leftovers?”
Caught.
Mariella heard her son’s approach before he even stepped into the room. As he did, he let out a small gasp of surprise and Sam whirled around.
“Coach, what are you doing here?”
She turned on the faucet and washed her hands. “He forgot his phone here earlier, so he came back to get it.”
Sam glanced over, picking up her implied cue, and pulled his phone from his right pants pocket. “Got it now. See you both at the game tomorrow.”
“See ya, Coach!” Josh said before heading straight to the refrigerator.
Mariella waited until Sam left, and then locked the kitchen door. Leaning against it, she exhaled and thanked God for two things: leftovers and the squeaky third step on the staircase.
Chapter 6
Mariella leaned back against the headrest as she waited for Josh, debating whether to shut off the holiday music on the radio.
When he was younger, they’d always sung Christmas carols together, mostly when driving back home to visit her parents. The practice continued even when he became a teenager. It seemed to be the one time of year where he let down his inhibitions.
The bike accident had changed him, and made him more wary and cautious of everything, including being himself.
She couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. A serious accident could change one’s perspective of the world. It was like having a broken heart, and trying to make sense of what happened, even as you were healing from it.
A little Bing Crosby could help, she mused. The radio station was playing the crooner’s greatest hits, so she let it stay on. Maybe the music would encourage Josh to try on a more festive mood.
He was upset with her because he wanted to go with friends to the game, but she’d insisted on driving him. It was their tradition, she told him, and besides, this was his last “first” game of high school soccer. He could celebrate with his buddies afterward, while she tried to figure out how to remove Sam Kelly from her mind.
Or how to get him into her bed. That was far more interesting.
She shivered and decided against opening the window, as the weather had turned chilly. Early-evening temperatures were forecasted to dip down into the low fifties, perfect weather for a soccer game.
To beat the chill, Mariella had chosen a red turtleneck, topped with a cream angora vest, skinny black jeans and her favorite black ankle boots. She couldn’t wait for Sam to see her outfit, although she knew he’d probably be totally focused on the game.
As he should, she thought, covering a yawn. He shouldn’t be obsessing over almost getting caught in the heat of passion with the mother of one of his team members.
She thought about it enough for them both. With surprisingly little regret.
Sam awakened illicit, hidden desires she didn’t know she was still capable of feeling. Most of her previous dates had never gotten that far because she wasn’t that attracted to them. The ones that did ended badly, mostly due to the grief she felt over her husband’s untimely death.
Lust was fast and fleeting, and much easier to justify, but Mariella often wondered if true love was worth it. The deeper past hurts were, the more pain an individual could potentially inflict on a tender heart. As a widow, Mariella knew loving someone didn’t rule out the fact that one day you would still be alone.
She turned her head and looked out the window. Even if it was possible, she believed pursuing a relationship with Sam right now was the wrong move. The next few months would be stressful enough without trying to parse out her feelings for Sam. The college application process, plus her PTA duties, would take up her limited free time.
Her son was growing up, becoming a man. Maybe he could handle it if she had a relationship with his coach, but she didn’t dare take a chance.
Josh got into the car and shoved in his bag. Mariella jumped in her seat, so lost in thought, she didn’t even hear him open the door.
“A little warning next time, please! You scared me half to death.” She started the ignition and backed out.
“Wake up, Mom. The first game hasn’t even started.”
He smirked, but his mood seemed brighter as if he’d forgotten about their earlier argument.
“I’ve never fallen asleep at any of your games.”
She gripped the steering wheel with both hands. His excitement was palpable and she didn’t want to ruin it. She wasn’t going to ask if he was nervous; she had that one covered, too.
“Then how come you never know what’s going on?”
She smiled at his good-natured ribbing. “I know enough to know when you win or lose, don’t I? I’m there to support you. I don’t need to completely understand every aspect of the game.”
He ran his hands over his uniform shirt, straightened his shorts over his thighs and then pulled at his gold soccer socks.
“If Dad was alive, I bet he would know everything about soccer.”
She didn’t know why he was bringing up his father now, but his words made her heart hurt. A strand of hair had loosened from her casual updo, and she tucked it back into place to distract herself from the pain.
“I’m sorry, Josh,” she said, glancing over quickly.
“Forget about it,” he replied in a clipped tone. “It doesn’t matter.”
But she knew it did, and there was nothing she could do about it. By not dating because of a few sour experiences, she’d backed herself into a lonely corner, and denied Josh the c
hance to have a stepfather. It wasn’t fair to him.
“Why don’t you ever talk about Dad?”
Mariella sighed and turned off the radio. Bing Crosby couldn’t get her out of this one.
“I guess because I’m afraid if I talk about him, you’ll be sad.”
Josh rolled his eyes. “Mom, I can handle it.”
The years without Jamaal hadn’t wiped away the memories of her first love.
“We married young. He enjoyed football, so I bet he would have felt the same about soccer, too. It just wasn’t as popular back then. He was smart and kind and just a wonderful guy.”
Josh frowned. “I don’t remember him at all.”
“You were only three when he died.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Your dad would be so proud of you now. I just know he would be.”
But Josh wasn’t listening. Instead, he was pointing at the windshield. “Mom, here’s the school.”
Mariella had been so engrossed in the conversation she’d almost driven by it. She made a quick right turn and parked the car as close to the field as possible. From her space, she could see the bleachers were already three-quarters full with people waiting for the pregame show by the school’s marching band.
“Good luck! I love you.”
But Josh had already grabbed his bag and slammed the door. The harsh sound was a bookend to the conversation, and a painful fact.
Nothing she could ever say or do would ever make up for the hole in her son’s heart, or the time missed with his father. It was something she would have to live with for the rest of her life, and so would he.
* * *
Sam stared openmouthed at the red numbers on the scoreboard, and then at the boy who was at fault. Josh had made a stupid mistake that had cost the team the home opener.
His other players hadn’t done their best, either. He wanted to rage and scream with frustration, but he knew he couldn’t do that to a bunch of emotionally sensitive kids, even though they sometimes acted like spoiled brats.
He shook his head, knowing if he took a time machine back to his teenage years, he’d probably acted the same way.
The pit in his stomach seemed to widen by the second as the sense of defeat settled in. Losing was never easy, and he’d expected it to feel the same as when he was playing pro.
Winning Her Holiday Love Page 9