Beach Reads Boxed Set

by Marie Force

  “I was glad you hadn’t changed it, but these are just placeholders until I can get you new ones.”

  “I don’t want new ones. These are the ones I love. I cried all day when I finally worked up the nerve to take them off after you moved out.”

  He brushed at the dampness on her cheeks. “No more tears. Those days are over. We have the best of everything ahead of us.”

  She kissed him and urged him onto the sofa with her.

  He took her in his arms and stretched out next to her. “I thought you wanted me to play for you.”

  “I’d rather have you hold me.”

  “Happy to oblige, darlin’.”

  “Aren’t you at all curious as to what’s being said about you on T.V. tonight?”

  “Not in the least. I’m sure it’ll be front-page news in tomorrow’s sport section. We’ll find out what they have to say soon enough. How does your wrist feel?”

  “Okay. I took some Advil.”

  Ryan took a deep, rattling breath. “I sure wish you’d let me kill him. It would give me such pleasure...”

  “What good would you be to me in jail?” she asked with a teasing smile.

  “That’s true,” he conceded. “We took care of some major business today, didn’t we?”

  “We sure did. It feels good to have nothing standing in our way. We’re free to do whatever we want.”

  He turned onto his good side so he could see her. “I just wish we could think of something to do with this newfound freedom of ours.”

  She pretended to give that some significant thought. “We could play a game.”

  “Or watch a movie,” he said, his hand coasting over her silk robe.

  “Uh-huh.” She choked on a gasp when his roving hand found her breast. “I hope we aren’t going to be bored as retirees. We might have to take up bridge or shuffleboard to fill our time.”

  He snorted with laughter. “From football to shuffleboard. Can you picture the headlines?”

  She giggled but it quickly became a moan when he dragged his tongue over her bottom lip. “Ry,” she sighed, burying her fingers in his hair to pull him closer.

  But rather than give in to her need for urgency, he gave her top lip the same slow treatment.

  Her heart fluttered when she looked up to find him watching her with brown eyes gone soft with tenderness. “I want you,” she whispered.

  “You have me. I’m all yours.”

  With her hands on his face, she brought his mouth back to hers.

  The kiss was soft and undemanding. He rimmed her mouth with his tongue and then delved deeper in quick fleeting strokes that made her desperate for more.

  Susannah had to remind herself to breathe as he focused all his attention on the kiss. His hands never moved as he kissed her like a man who had all the time in the world to give her, all the time in the world to love her.

  “Let me up so I can go get the paper,” she said the next morning as sunlight streamed into the bedroom. In their haste the night before, they had forgotten to close the blinds. “I’m dying to know what they’re saying about my man.”

  “In a minute,” he murmured, his lips trailing over her neck.

  When he caressed her belly, Susannah squirmed and then jolted as his hand dipped between her legs. “Ry!”

  He pressed his erection against her back. “Hmm?”

  “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “This is nuts,” she said, breathless from what he was doing to her. How is it possible that I want him again?

  He eased her onto her belly and raised her arms up over her head.

  She turned so she could see him. “Ry? What’re you doing?”

  “Kissing your back.”

  She wiggled under him. “That’s not kissing! That’s biting!”

  “Details, baby.” With a combination of lips, teeth, and tongue, he worked his way down her spine. Filling his hands with soft buttocks, he sighed. “I love your ass. Have I ever told you that?”

  “Um, no.” He was making her nervous. “Not in so many words.”

  “Too bad,” he said, nibbling one cheek and then the other. “I should’ve told you, because I’ve thought it so many times.” He slipped a finger in between to discover his efforts were having the desired result.

  Susannah almost levitated off the bed.

  “Easy, baby. Take it easy.”

  “How am I supposed to take it easy when you’re doing that?”

  He slid his finger into her wetness and tempted her with small, teasing movements. “Doing what?”

  “That!” She thrust her hips back to try to capture his teasing finger. “Oh my God! Ryan...”

  “Spread your legs a little.”

  “No! Stop. Come on.”

  With his knees he urged her legs apart and raised her hips. He entered her from behind and gave her a minute to adjust before he withdrew almost completely.

  “Ryan!”

  “Do you want more?”

  “Yes,” she moaned. “Please.”

  He kissed the back of her neck and whispered in her ear, “I love it when my little debutante is polite in bed.”

  “Damn it! Do it!”

  “Oh, Christ, I like that even more,” he said with a groan as he filled her again.

  Careful to protect her sore wrist, he kept her on her elbows and knees as his teasing strokes drove her mad. When he reached for her breasts, her legs gave out, and she landed face down on the bed with him on top of her.

  “Am I crushing you?”

  “No,” she panted, pushing back to urge him on. “Don’t stop.”

  As he ground himself into her, his sweat mingled with hers. He covered her, surrounded her, possessed her. And when he whispered in her ear that he loved her, she replied with a scream of release that took him right over with her.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned from under him.

  Ryan kissed her back, her shoulder, her neck, and finally, her cheek. “Good morning.”

  “This is nuts,” she repeated.

  “What is?”

  “This,” she whispered, so drained it was hard to believe she had just woken up.

  He squeezed her breasts to remind her that his hands were still there. “Why?”

  “We can’t keep doing this all the time.”

  “Why not?”

  She laughed. “Stop answering me with questions!”

  “I’m waiting for you to give me a good reason.”

  “I’m trying to think of one.”

  He laughed, and it echoed through her.

  When she closed her eyes and clenched her internal muscles, he groaned. “Susie...”

  “We have to think of some other way to fill our time.”

  “Why?”

  She reached up to pinch his shoulder. “Now can I go get the paper?”

  “If you must.” He withdrew from her and rolled onto his side. “How’s your wrist?”

  “Stiff but not as sore as yesterday.” She felt his eyes on her as she reached for her robe.

  “You can’t go outside with just that on. You’ll cause a stir in the neighborhood.”

  “Why? I’m covered.”

  “That thing clings to every delicious curve, darlin’. Take my word for it. You’ll cause a stir.”

  “Honestly!” she said with exasperation.

  Emerging from the bathroom several minutes later in a black sweat suit, her stomach growled noisily as she zipped up the sweatshirt over her unrestrained breasts. “Better?”

  “Yes, but I never imagined I’d be so jealous of a zipper.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  She went downstairs, made coffee, and put a piece of bread in the toaster, hoping to calm her stomach. While the toaster did its thing, she pulled on boots and went outside to find the paper wrapped in a blue plastic bag that was in sharp contrast to the snow on the lawn. She carried the bundle inside, took the paper out
of the bag, and flipped it open.

  “Oh, wow,” she whispered.

  Chapter 20

  Ryan lay on his belly and waited for Susie to come back. He’d expected to feel strange this morning after announcing his retirement to the world, but nothing felt different. He supposed he’d be despondent if he hadn’t had Susie to give him something else to think about. Well, if he were being truthful, there was only one thing he was thinking about lately, and she had finally called him on it. He chuckled softly to himself. They’d always had an intense sexual relationship, but the last few days had been extreme even for them.

  The dull throb in his ribs indicated that he had been overdoing the physical activity, but she was worth every ache and pain. She was back, she was his, and nothing was ever going to come between them again. He thought about the conversation he planned to have later with Henry, and once again his blood boiled at what that guy had done to Susie’s arm. Maybe he’d do the same thing to Henry—it was the least of what that bastard deserved.

  Susannah returned carrying two mugs of coffee and the newspaper tucked under her arm. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  He rolled over and sat up to receive the cup of coffee she handed to him. “How’d we do? Front of sports?”

  “Not exactly.” She held up the front page of the Denver Post, bearing the banner headline “Sanderson Calls It Quits” over a huge photo of him dabbing at a tear during the press conference.

  “Holy shit,” he said on a long exhale. Most of the front page was devoted to him. “Must’ve been a slow news day.”

  “More like it’s the story of the year in this city.”

  He put his coffee on the bedside table and reached for a pillow to put over his face. “Read it to me. I can’t bear to look.”

  She chuckled as she stretched out next to him. “Are you ready?”

  He grunted.

  “One of the NFL’s most storied careers ended yesterday with the surprise announcement that the Denver Mavericks’ star quarterback Ryan Sanderson is retiring,” she read.

  “Still bearing the bruises from his recent Super Bowl injuries, Sanderson, thirty-two, held a midday press conference at Mavericks Stadium, at which he characterized his Hall of Fame career as a combination of ‘good luck and good genes.’ With his wife Susannah, Mavericks Coach Duke Simmons, and team owner Chet Logler by his side, an often-tearful Sanderson paid tribute to the many teammates, coaches, and competitors who made his ten years in the NFL a ‘joyful journey.’” Susannah glanced over at him. “I liked that, by the way.”

  “I sound like a total geek,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

  She laughed. “You do not! Shut up and listen. ‘I also want to thank the people of Denver and the tremendous Mavericks’ fans,’ Sanderson said. ‘You welcomed my wife and me with open arms when we first arrived in this town, and you’ve made playing here the most rewarding experience I ever could’ve hoped for. I’ve been guided by an outstanding coaching staff—led by my good friend, Duke Simmons—and was blessed to work for the greatest owner in the league.’

  “Sanderson’s current contract is set to expire on Sunday, and recent reports put the Mavericks’ offer at $50 million for three more years.

  “The one-time AFC Offensive Rookie of the Year led the Mavericks to three Super Bowl victories in the last five years—the only Super Bowl wins in the franchise’s 36-year history—and was twice named Super Bowl MVP, including this year. He’s a five-time Pro Bowler and was recently elected again but couldn’t play due to the concussion and three broken ribs he sustained in the final minutes of the Mavericks’ 35 to 7 Super Bowl rout of the San Francisco 49ers.

  “A Heisman Trophy winner who led the University of Florida Gators to a national championship his senior year, Sanderson was named the AFC’s most valuable player in six of his 10 years in the league and passed for 39,620 yards during his career. A physical quarterback who wasn’t afraid to tangle with opponents’ defensive lines, he rushed for more than 3,500 yards and scored 23 touchdowns.

  “Calling this the right time and the right place to end his career, Sanderson said he made the decision to retire before he was injured in the Super Bowl. ‘I want to go on record as saying my friend Rodney Johnson’s spectacular sack had nothing to do with my decision to retire,’ Sanderson said to laughter from the gathered press and his teammates, who lined the room wearing Sanderson’s number eighteen. Also wearing his jersey was his wife, who filed for divorce 14 months ago. At the press conference, Sanderson also announced that the couple, who lost a son at birth more than two years ago, recently reconciled.”

  Ryan took the pillow off his face and winced. “They had to put that in there, didn’t they?”

  “I’m never prepared to see it in print.”

  “I’m sorry, baby.”

  She leaned over to kiss him. “It’s not your fault. Listen to the rest: ‘In addition to everyone in the Mavericks organization—past and present—there are three people I particularly wish to thank today,’ Sanderson said. ‘The first is my late mother, Theresa Sanderson, who never missed one of my games despite working two jobs. She was my greatest cheerleader, and I miss her. The second is my high school football coach, Jimmy Stevens, who was the first to suggest I might have what it takes to play in the NFL. He encouraged me to aim high and to think big. I’m here today because of him. Finally, I’d like to thank my wife, who put up with me and stood by me—while doing her best to keep me humble—during this crazy ride. I love you, Susie.’”

  “That was very sweet,” she said.

  “It’s true.”

  “Your mother would’ve been so proud of you yesterday.”

  “I hope so.”

  Susannah continued. “Sanderson, an honors graduate of the University of Florida with a degree in business, was circumspect about his future plans. He said he was looking forward to spending more time with his wife and to having the time to focus some attention on his vast business holdings that, combined with lucrative endorsement deals, have helped to elevate his net worth to an estimated $45 million.”

  “It’s forty-six, actually,” he commented dryly. He had no idea what the actual number was.

  Susannah chuckled. “His endeavors include several restaurants, a car dealership, a television station, and numerous real estate holdings. He and his wife are also well known in the city for their philanthropic work, especially on behalf of the Boys and Girls Clubs of Metro Denver and Children’s Hospital.”

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  “That’s the main story. There’re a couple of columns, too. I liked Paul Dimbroski’s.”

  “He was always good to me.”

  “Listen to this: ‘Sanderson ended his career the same way he played the game—with class and emotion. While shocking in its timing, coming so close on the heels of a third Super Bowl win, Sanderson’s decision to go out on top says more than I ever could about his character. While many players milk the ride for all it’s worth and force their teams to make tough decisions about once-dominant players, Sanderson showed us once again yesterday that the game itself was always his top priority.’”

  “I like that,” Ryan said.

  “I figured you would.”

  “So where’s the bad news?”

  “There wasn’t any.”

  “Come on. There’s got to be something negative.”

  She flipped the pages. “Well, Bobby Temple has a stick up his butt, but what else is new?”

  Ryan howled with laughter. “I love that dirty talk from my little debutante. What did my friend Bobby have to say?”

  “It’s not worth repeating,” she huffed.

  “Humor me.”

  “All right, you asked for it: ‘Must be nice to be Ryan Sanderson who can easily afford to thumb his nose at $50 million.’ That’s basically the gist of it.”

  “Bobby will never believe we’re not all in it for the money.”

  “He irritates me.”

  “I know. Me, too
.”

  She reached for her coffee. “Of course that’s why he does what he does.”

  “Enough about him. What time’s your appointment?”

  “Two.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “No, you won’t,” she protested. “I can drive myself.”

  “You have a sore wrist.”

  “It’s my left hand, and I’m not helpless. I’ll call you the minute my appointment is over.”

  “I want to go.”

  She turned on her side to study him. “What’s really going on? This isn’t just about my wrist.”

  He fixed his eyes on the cleavage visible over the top of her zipper. “Two things—one, I’m worried about Henry hassling you.”

  “He has no idea where I’ll be today, so what’s number two?”

  His jaw shifted with tension. “Is Pam going to think I did that to your wrist?”

  “Oh, baby, no! I’ll tell her it had nothing to do with you.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said with a bitter snort of disbelief. “Like she’s going to buy that.”

  “I’ll tell her the truth.”

  “Will she believe you?”

  “I’ll make sure she does.”

  The phone rang, and Ryan reached for it. “Yes, she is,” he said. “Just a sec.” He handed the phone to Susannah, kissed her cheek, and got out of bed. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Okay.” She watched him go before she took the call. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Susannah, it’s Diane,” her divorce attorney said.

  “Oh, hi, Diane. I guess you saw the press conference.”

  “I did. I’m calling to tell you the judge saw it, too, and he’d still like to see you both on Monday at eleven as planned.”

  “Can’t we just withdraw the petition?” Susannah asked.

  “Nothing is that simple with this judge. You should know that by now.”

  “All right. We’ll be there.”

  “So will I. Just in case I’m needed. Are you happy, Susannah? Is this what you really want? You were so determined to go forward with the divorce.”