To Win Her Smile

by Mackenzie Crowne

A dimple appeared with his smile. He didn’t have to step forward to cup her chin. She gritted her teeth against a helpless wave of pleasure as he brushed his thumb over her cheek. “You may be right, sweetheart, but chemistry this hot is too rare to ignore.”

  Obviously, he wasn’t familiar with the concept of spontaneous combustion. She’d been burned once before, and by a flame much less scorching than that which had flared between them just now. A smart woman knew when to retreat and, if that didn’t work… She’d run like hell.

  “Be that as it may, what just happened won’t be happening again.” She twisted her head, freeing her chin from his fingers. He dropped his hand to his side once again.

  “Then you shouldn’t have kissed me like that.” He dipped his chin and the husky need in his voice was reflected in his eyes. “That kind of thing gives a man ideas.”

  The breath stalled in her throat. Goosebumps broke out and danced over her skin.

  Right. Time to run.

  She stepped around him before she could do something she’d regret—like lose what was left of her mind and wrap herself around his gorgeous body like a clinging vine.

  “Any ideas I might have given you will be short-lived. I’m boarding a plane back to the UK in a few hours.”

  “What if I asked you to stay?”

  Positive she’d misheard him, she paused and slowly turned. Okay, so the kiss they’d shared was incredible. She was still weak-kneed from its effects and frustrated she couldn’t do a thing about it. But asking her to stay? What kind of man would suggest a woman abandon her home and country because of one sizzling kiss?

  He held up a hand. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

  She plucked the wine bottles from the counter. “That’s a relief. I would hate to think CC and Tuck had befriended a man barmy enough he runs around kissing strange woman and then asking them to relocate.”

  Back came the dimples, along with his deep chuckle. “Damn, even the way you toss out insults is a turn-on.”

  She stiffened as her frustration intensified. “I’m sure you’re having a lovely time poking fun at me, but I’m being perfectly serious.”

  “So am I. Your sexy accent turns me on. And your eyes... Did you know they go all dark and mysterious, like a spitting cat, when your back gets up?” She opened her mouth, but he stepped forward before she could say a word. Propping his hands on the counter on each side of her hips, he caged her in. “You turn me on quicker and hotter than any woman I’ve ever met, but I’m not suggesting you relocate. Not permanently, anyway.”

  Caught between excitement over the possibility she affected him as he did her, and confusion over what he could possibly be suggesting, she clutched the wine bottles to her chest. “You’re not making sense.”

  “I doubt it’ll make a lot of sense to you once I’ve explained, but I’m hoping you’ll hear me out before you say no.”

  Like a sneaky secret weapon, his smile was suddenly all hopeful anticipation and boyish charm. Prudency insisted she harden her heart against the irresistible pull, but that didn’t stop her from being curious. She dipped her chin in a wary nod.

  “I want to hire you.”

  She blinked. Of anything he could have said, a job offer was the last thing she expected. “Why… That’s ridiculous. Besides, I already have a job.”

  “Yeah, but I’m willing to bet it doesn’t pay anywhere near as well as I will.”

  She stared into his eyes, unsure if he was sincere or simply having a laugh at her expense. Lord knew, she needed every shilling she could pull in if she was going to save the manor, but…oh, bollocks. What was she thinking? Saving the manor would require a miraculous windfall, and nothing good could come of any association he might suggest. Best she catch her flight and not look back.

  She opened her mouth to reject his offer out flat.

  “As for what I’d be asking of you to earn that money, well, that’s the part that might not make sense.”

  Curious in spite of herself, she lifted a wary brow. “Try me.”

  His lips tweaked in a wicked smile, and he leaned his upper body toward her. She held him off with two liters of Chardonnay to the chest. Obviously, he was having a go at her, and it bothered her she’d nearly fallen for his line. She knew better.

  “Forget it.” Slipping around him, she headed for the patio doors.

  “Wait.” He laughed and stopped her with a gentle hand to her elbow. “I’m not going to lie. You’re a beautiful woman and getting you into my bed is definitely part of my short-term agenda.”

  Had she considered his boyish smile a secret weapon? It couldn’t hold a candle to his sexy croon or the carnal intent in his sparkling grayish-green eyes. She clenched her teeth against the tingles of pleasure his bold admission elicited in her traitorous body. Damn the man. He simply didn’t play fair.

  As if he were reading her mind, he curled his lips in a wholly male grin. The gentle squeeze of his long fingers ended on a slow caress as he ran his hand down to her wrist, then released her. “Say the word and we’re in a private suite at the Plaza, but our sleeping together has nothing to do with my job offer. What I want from you professionally is completely on the up and up.”

  If she were smart, she would shake her head and walk out the door, but she had to know. “What, exactly, would be required in this job?”

  Satisfaction flashed in his eyes, and she could have sworn his shoulders relaxed marginally. “Well, now. There are a couple of things. First, seeing your photographs at the fundraiser last night got me thinking. We could raise a hell of a lot more money for Down syndrome research with one of those hunk of the month calendars, don’t you think? I’m sure I could round up a year’s worth of guys if you’d be willing to take the pictures.”

  He was kidding, right? “I...”

  “And second, I need you to show up at the remaining Marauders games.”

  “To do what?”

  He dragged a palm around the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. “Nothing, really. All you’d need to do is be at each of the games and stand on the sidelines.”

  But, of course. He wants to pay me to stand on the sideline. Why didn’t I think of that? The man is out of his head.

  A lifetime of proper behavior kept her from telling him what he could do with his asinine offer. She curved her lips in a bland smile and added an extra bite of sarcasm to her rejection. “No, thank you. If you’ll recall, the last time I was on the sideline, I ended up with a broken nose.”

  “Which is exactly why I want to hire you.”

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. She stared at him as several seconds ticked by. The sincerity in his eyes appeared real enough and he looked completely normal. Yet, American football was a very physical sport. Perhaps too many hits to the head left him a bit off.

  “You really are quite mad, aren’t you?” She shook her head and spun toward the door.

  “Mad enough to pay twenty-five hundred per game, plus travel expenses. First Class, of course, and five-star lodging.”

  She stopped short and glanced over her shoulder.

  He dipped his chin. “Since we came from behind to win last Sunday, right after you were hit with the ball, I’ll include week one in the tally. If the season goes as expected, the Marauders won’t be battling for a wildcard spot, but I’ll throw that week in as a bonus. At nineteen games, that’s,” he angled his head to the side as if calculating, “forty-seven-five.”

  With her fingers going numb, she had to clutch the bottles tighter so she wouldn’t drop them. Forty-seven thousand, five hundred dollars?

  “I’ll double it if we make it to the Super Bowl. That comes to ninety-five.” He tossed his shoulders in a shrug. “Ah, hell. Let’s make it an even one-hundred grand.”

  One-hundred-thousand? Dollars, not pounds! She swallowed hard and did a quick conversion calculation in her head.
Good Lord, she’d be within twenty thousand pounds of paying off Abigail…

  Her pulse shot toward the dangerous range, and she turned to face him fully. “Why in the world would you pay anyone that kind of money to stand on the sideline?”

  The boyish smile returned. “Not just anyone. You, Piper. First, because I broke your nose and I owe you for that.”

  “Nonsense.” She frowned. “I told you that’s not necessary.”

  “It is to me, and second…” She cocked her head when he hesitated. “Because, thanks to you, we did come from behind to win the game.”

  “Thanks to me? I don’t understand.”

  “Everything I’ve ever wanted is on the line this season. The Marauders are in a position to do what no other team has done in league history.” His eyes glittered with expectancy. “With perseverance and a little luck, we’ll take our third consecutive Super Bowl and permanently claim our place in the record books as the best pro team ever fielded. As team captain and quarterback, it’s up to me to see we achieve that ultimate success. To do that, I have to stay healthy, and I need my good luck charm.” A dimple winked in his easy smile. “That’s you, sweetheart.”

  She stared at him, unblinking. Forget a bit off. He was a complete nutter who looked and sounded more like a teenager on steroids than a thirty-something captain of a professional sports outfit.

  She shook her head. “Let me get this straight. I’m a human rabbit’s foot?”

  Humor twinkled in his eyes. “Go ahead and laugh, but we were on the brink of losing to a team we should have crushed Sunday until you showed up. Consider it an eccentricity if you like, but if something works, I stick with it.”

  “If you recall, I was also hit with a deflected ball.”

  A wince puckered his forehead. “You wouldn’t be expected to repeat that part.”

  She snorted a helpless laugh. “I should hope not.”

  He shrugged good-naturedly. “I know this sounds crazy, but superstitions are pretty common amongst the ranks of professional sports. I’m not the only Marauder who recognized your injury as a turning point in play.”

  Of all the… He couldn’t possibly be serious. She was about to suggest he see someone who could help talk him through his delusional crisis when he held up a hand.

  “Don’t knock the power of belief. It plays a crucial role in a person either successfully getting what they want or walking off the field a loser.”

  She smirked. “Yes, well, most people aren’t nutty enough to spend one hundred-thousand dollars on a crazy superstition.”

  His grin was unrepentant. “True, but only because most people don’t have an extra hundred grand lying around. Lucky for me, the Marauders pay extremely well. I’ve worked hard for every penny, and I’ve invested wisely. As a consequence, I have more money than I’ll ever be able to spend. I choose to spend some of that money to get what I want.” An intensity that hadn’t been there before slipped into his eyes. “And I want you, Piper Darrow.”

  She swallowed as her body insisted on applying a purely personal meaning to his words. He held her gaze as the heat of a blush worked its way up her chest to her cheeks. Even considering his proposition was courting disaster, but damn, damn, damn! It was a shame, really. He was incredibly tidy, and one hundred thousand dollars…

  Bugger. Taking advantage of a mad man would be completely unethical, not to mention just plain mean. She spoke the denial before she could foolishly leap off the cliff of her own demise. “I’m sorry, but I can’t possibly accept. I’m afraid you’re simply going to have to find yourself another rabbit’s foot.”

  Chapter 5

  “I beg your pardon?” Piper blinked at V Fitzpatrick.

  The Marauders’ PR specialist wore a hopeful expression. “The team will purchase the copyright for any photographs you produce. We’ll also cover any expenses while you’re here in addition to paying you very generously for your time.”

  The figure V quoted was half the amount Wyatt had offered Piper earlier this afternoon. Fifty thousand dollars wouldn’t get her anywhere close to paying off Abigail, but…

  Wait. Half the amount Wyatt had offered?

  Suspicion slammed into Piper’s mind, and she jolted.

  “I’m sorry. Um….” She hesitated. The offers differed and V worked for the team, not Wyatt. It would be impolite to accuse the poor woman without good cause, but bloody hell. After having failed to get Piper to accept his bizarre job offer, had Wyatt made a call, pulling strings through the team? He was their quarterback, after all. They’d want him happy, but just how far would they go to make sure that happened?

  Piper clenched the strap of her purse. “By any chance, did Mr. Hunter have anything to do with the team making me this offer?”

  “Wyatt? No-o-o.” Genuine confusion creased V’s brow as she dragged out the word. “I personally approached Caroline and suggested we invite you on board for this project. She took one look at your photographs and agreed.” V’s eyes widened, and she stiffened as understanding dawned over her face. “Oh, hell. What has he done this time?”

  This time? The woman clearly expected Wyatt to be in some sort of trouble, which didn’t surprise Piper.

  Good luck charm, me arse. The man obviously had more money than he knew what to do with and an imagination to match.

  Piper clamped down on an unladylike snort that, combined with the unacceptable language running through her head, would have given Tilly a case of the vapors. From V’s response, it was clear Piper’s knee-jerk suspicions were unwarranted. Though relieved on that score, she’d inadvertently opened a door she would prefer remained closed. Shifting in her seat, she searched for a way to steer the conversation away from a topic she wouldn’t be comfortable discussing—like that searing kiss she’d shared with Wyatt several hours ago.

  She settled on a flat-out denial. “Nothing. Forget I mentioned him.”

  “Nothing? Are you sure?” V studied her with squinted eyes. “That would be a first for Wyatt.”

  Bollocks. I should have kept my big mouth shut.

  Piper took her own advice and said nothing.

  V’s smile was knowing. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You’re beautiful and you’re a redhead. Two of Wyatt’s favorite traits in a woman.” The blush heating Piper’s cheeks must have shown because V sighed. “Just as I thought. Let me guess. He invited you to run off with him for a romantic weekend in Bermuda?” She cocked her head. “No, that’s wrong. He’s got a game on Sunday and practice all week.” Snapping her fingers, she nodded curtly. “I’ve got it. Dinner and drinks in a private suite at the Plaza.” She arched an auburn brow. “How close am I?”

  Piper’s mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut. “Frighteningly so. The suite at the Plaza came up.” She scowled. “He offered me a job, too.”

  Surprise flashed in V’s eyes. “Really? What sort of job?”

  Piper shifted uncomfortably. “He said he’d been thinking of doing a hunk of the month calendar to raise more money for Down syndrome research. He wanted me to take the photographs.”

  “I see.” V’s eyes darkened with understanding. “No wonder you asked if he’d had anything to do with our proposal.”

  Piper nodded, then shrugged. “The calendar turned out to be nothing more than an excuse to keep me in the States. When I declined, he all but admitted what he really wanted was for me to stand on the sideline for the Marauders’ remaining games, and you wouldn’t believe how much he was willing to pay me to do so. Apparently, he has a delusional belief that I was somehow responsible for last Sunday’s win.”

  “Oh, shit.” From the way V twisted her lips, she was fighting not to laugh. “You’re this year’s lucky charm.”

  “That’s what he claimed.” Piper stiffened as the rest of V’s comment registered. “Wait. This year’s? You mean there have been others?”

  “
A few. Myself included.” The laugh she’d been fighting broke free, and she smoothed her palm over the tight twist of her hair. “I told you, he has a thing for redheads.”

  Piper pressed two fingertips to the pulse pounding in her temple. “Just as I thought. The man is barmy. Uh…crazy.”

  “Crazy like a fox.” V picked up a gold pen from the desktop. “His motives for putting together that calendar might be suspect, but the idea has merit. Hmm.” She fiddled with the pen, a shrewd glint in her eyes. “We’ll get back to that. For now, let’s focus on the offer already on the table. The moment I saw your exhibit last night, I knew you were the perfect choice for the still shots I want.”

  Flattered, yet more than a little bewildered, Piper twisted the strap of the purse in her lap. “You realize I don’t take traditional portraits? My preference is candid shots, snapping that which catches my eye. Surely, there’s a local photographer who would jump at the opportunity to work with the team.”

  “Several, without a doubt, but your candid eye is the reason I was anxious to speak with you before you left town.” V slid the pen between her fingers. “Your photographs tell stories, Piper, which is precisely what I’m after. The one of Alick Graham was mesmerizing. I want that same quality telling the story of our ‘Fab Five.’”

  A rush of warmth surged through Piper. The photograph of Alick had sold last night for quite a tidy sum. Thrilled to contribute so handsomely to such a worthy cause, she was nonetheless a little sad to see the print go. And not just because she had a soft spot for Angus’s rough and tumble, time-weathered twin. She’d looked through her lens at Alick, grinning as his sloop was tossed about by the choppy waters of Loch Fyne, and knew the shot would be a favorite even before the shutter had clicked. And she’d been right. Light, depth of field, and subject matter had come together in a stunning composition.

  She shoved aside her professional pride to ask, “Fab Five?”

  “If,” V paused and held up her hand, “no, when the Marauders win the Super Bowl at the end of this season, sixteen current players will earn their fourth championship ring as Marauders. I’m not sure how much you know about American football, but that’s quite an accomplishment. Caroline plans to make a big deal of the rare stat, which is the reason behind the production you’d be working on. The finished piece will be broadcast at the halftime show of the Marauders’ last home game. Which, if all goes as expected, will be the conference championship.”