On the Line

by Lincoln, Liz

  “And you need a grand gesture,” Maddie added. “There’s always a grand gesture.”

  Seth tried to puzzle through what she was saying as the game returned on TV. He watched the two teams line up, Pittsburgh with the ball. They had two minutes to score and secure a spot in the Super Bowl. They at least needed a field goal to force overtime. They were already to the Chiefs’ forty-yard line; it seemed likely they could get to the end zone.

  “What do you mean, ‘there’s always a grand gesture’? Where is there always one?”

  “In movies.”

  Of course that was where she got her notions about romance. “I don’t think I’m up for saving the planet this week, so maybe a less-than-grand gesture.”

  “It doesn’t have to be saving the planet. You could stand in her driveway with a boombox.”

  Seth chuckled at the image she conjured. “She’s staying with her brother in his condo. Plus, it’s negative fifteen wind chill right now.”

  “Then we’ll have to think of something else.”

  We. She was in this with him. Giving him her stamp of approval on trying to win Carrie back.

  “And ya know, Dad, I’m not a little kid anymore. Maybe stop doing everything for me. Instead do, like, most things. But occasionally do things for yourself too. Take what you want.”

  Seth glanced over at the young woman who was still the center of his universe, and probably always would be. But maybe she was right; maybe it was time to add a few other things in that center with her and football.

  Maybe that’s what he’d been trying to do with Carrie. And he’d let her get away. He needed to do exactly like he’d told her to do, exactly like his daughter was telling him to do. Hell, even his coaches told him to go out and go after what he wanted. They just meant a good tackle or a sack or an interception.

  On the TV, from the twelve-yard line, the Steelers’ quarterback let loose a perfect spiral. It sailed down the field toward a wide receiver waiting at the one-yard line. No defenders were close enough to stop him from making the catch, then turning into the end zone. It was Pittsburgh’s ball game.

  Out of nowhere, from the corner of the screen, a player in a red shirt dove in front of the receiver. The Kansas City cornerback plucked the ball out of the air, cradling it against his chest as he crashed to the turf.

  Interception. Chiefs’ ball on the two-yard line. With twenty-six seconds left, they’d be able to kneel it out and go to the Super Bowl.

  With one unexpected move, that cornerback had seen something he wanted and was about to lose—the Super Bowl—and done what he had to do to seize control of the outcome.

  Seth needed to be that cornerback. For the sake of the metaphor, he could ignore that he played linebacker and focus on making an interception to change the outcome. Did that make Carrie the football?

  Well, it was an imperfect metaphor. But the point remained. He needed to fight for what he wanted, and he wanted Carrie.

  He sat up and leaned toward Maddie. Clearly his creative thinking was lacking. He needed his daughter’s help.

  “OK, no saving the world, no boomboxes. So how do I get Carrie back?”

  Maddie grabbed her laptop off the coffee table. “Think we can get you a Batman costume overnight?”

  * * *

  —

  Carrie tried to focus on her lecture notes for tomorrow, but she was so tired, her eyes kept drooping shut. Jason’s air mattress was uncomfortable, plus it made a weird rubbery friction noise every time she rolled over, which often woke her up. After a month of sleeping on it, she was perpetually exhausted. Not to mention she had a chronic ache in her shoulders.

  The ping of a new text message jerked her awake, and she grabbed her phone from where it rested on the couch next to her.

  Maddie: I’m sorry I was so awful. I miss you. Please come back?

  Tears welled in Carrie’s eyes, blurring the words on her phone screen. Seconds ticked by as her thumbs hovered over the screen, prepared to type a reply. But she didn’t know what to say. That she already had a new job? That Seth had been the one to end it? That maybe Maddie missed her, but Seth had given no indication he did?

  Instead of typing any of those things, she set the phone down and swiped at the tears that had escaped. No, just because Maddie missed her didn’t mean she’d be welcomed back to their home. He hadn’t fought for her, for their relationship. He’d let her walk away.

  Except she hadn’t fought for them either. The thought unsettled Carrie, enough that she had to set aside her laptop and get off the couch. She suddenly felt restless, like she needed to do something.

  She hadn’t fought for Seth, even though she loved him. She’d simply accepted he had to put Maddie first.

  Not good enough. He’d been the one who’d inspired her to go after what she wanted. She had the job; now it was time to get the other thing she wanted.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she dug her Poison Ivy corset out of her suitcase. As she adjusted the laces and hooked the snaps, she let herself remember the way Seth had looked at her when she put it on for the first time. His eyes had shone with more than lust. The present itself was an indication that his feelings for her had been more than casual.

  Carrie smoothed her hands over the rich silk. Maybe his feelings had started to fade in the month they’d been apart. But they couldn’t have disappeared completely. She had to hold on to that. He had to still care.

  The rest of the Ivy costume was a no-go. Shorts, even with tights, weren’t happening in subzero weather.

  She shrugged into a black cardigan, because as sexy as she wanted to be, it was still Wisconsin in January. Plus, late on a Sunday afternoon, there was a good chance Maddie was at home.

  A knock on the door interrupted her hunt for her keys. She stared at it, frowning. Who would be at Jason’s? He was out of town, and he never had people over. Only her parents and Amy knew where she was staying, and they would call or text before coming over.

  Another knock, louder this time. Like the person had pounded with his fist.

  “Carrie?”

  Her stomach hollowed at the sound of Seth’s voice. Her hand went to her chest, as if she needed to keep her pounding heart from bursting out.

  On unsteady legs, she went to the door and twisted the deadbolt. Her fingers shook as she slid the chain. Why did Jason need so many locks? The building had a security buzzer to get in.

  Speaking of, how had Seth gotten past it?

  She yanked open the door, the question on the tip of her tongue, but froze when she saw him.

  He was decked out head-to-toe in a Batman costume. Her mouth hung open as she stared at him.

  Batman?

  “Wh…wha…I…” She couldn’t even find words.

  He looked up and down the hall, then back at her. “Can I come in?”

  She stepped back, still in shock. “Sure.”

  He came in, movements stiff, presumably because of the costume. His mask obscured most of his face, only his beard and mouth showing. Batman with a blond beard was an odd look.

  They stood in Jason’s entryway, watching each other. Through the eyeholes, she met his gaze, and she couldn’t look away. Her whole body flushed, her skin tingling from awareness.

  His mouth twitched. “You look good.” He gestured to her corset and sweater. “Going out?”

  Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he sounded as though he didn’t like that idea.

  “I was, um…” She bit her lip and inhaled deeply. She could do this. “I was actually going to your house.”

  “Oh?”

  “Why are you here?”

  He took a step toward her, lifted his hand as if he were going to reach for her, then dropped it back to his side. “To say I’m an idiot.”

  How was she supposed to interpret that? “Ex
cuse me?”

  He lifted his hand again, then made a frustrated sound. He ripped off the gloves, leaving his arms bare to his elbows. Stepping into her space, he slid his hand around the back of her neck. “I miss you. The way things ended with us, I was an idiot.”

  Carrie set her palms against his chest, instantly hating the fake foam muscles keeping her from feeling his real muscles. His heat.

  Him.

  So she slid her arms around him and laid her hands against his back. Thankfully the costume was no more than a piece of fabric. “I miss you too.” She could barely push the words past the tightness in her throat. “I was coming over to tell you that. And to make it harder for you to walk away.”

  “It was so hard. And I’m an idiot for doing it.”

  She smiled. “You already said that.”

  “It bears repeating.” He slid his hands into her hair and tilted her face up to his. “I’ve cared about women I’ve dated before, but you’re the first woman I’ve ever loved. And I threw it away because of a teenage tantrum.”

  Her heart sputtered. Had she heard him right? “First woman you…”

  He leaned his head toward hers, and when the hard plastic of his mask knocked her forehead, he made another frustrated sound. He ripped the mask off his face, letting it hang behind him like a hood. His loose hair spilled around his shoulders.

  Looking deep into her eyes, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you, Carrie. I am so madly, crazy, wildly in love with you. I’ve been miserable since you left. I thought I had to let you leave to make Maddie happy, but she hasn’t been happy either. And I realized that sometimes I have to take what I want. Not just what Maddie wants.”

  She couldn’t form words to go with all the thoughts and feelings inside her, so Carrie went on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. Seth’s hand fisted in her hair, holding her in place as his tongue slid into her mouth, tasting and exploring everything they’d denied themselves for the past month.

  They clung to each other, slowly walking backward until Carrie’s back touched the wall. Seth pressed into her, his big body stroking hers, turning her on in a way only he could.

  Ripping his mouth away, Seth stared down at her, panting. “Say you want this too. Say I didn’t screw up too badly.”

  Carrie’s chest ached at the vulnerability on his face. That she could do that to such a solid, strong man made it easy to be vulnerable herself. “You didn’t screw up. I want this too.” She cupped his cheek, loving the scratch of his whiskers on her skin. “I love you too. So much.”

  He made a desperate sound as his mouth took hers again. Hunger filled Carrie, a need to have what she’d denied herself for a month. Judging from the erection pressing into her, Seth matched her need.

  “No codpiece this time?” she asked as he trailed his lips down her neck.

  He chuckled against her skin, making her shiver. “No, I had limited options for overnight delivery. It was this cheap version or the $1,400 one.”

  “Why Batman?”

  He lifted his head and made a confused face. “Maddie insisted I needed a grand gesture to make you forgive me. And got it in her head that wearing a costume was the best way to achieve that.”

  Carrie laughed. In teenager logic, it made an odd sort of sense. “But why not use the Iron Man costume you have?”

  “Something about mixing worlds and Poison Ivy belongs with Batman.” Seth shrugged. “It was all kind of over my head. But I figured she understands how female brains work better than I do. Especially women who love comic books.”

  “I like it. But for the record, it’s the loving me part that won me back, not the costume.”

  “Noted.” His mouth took hers again, and as they kissed, she walked them until they reached Jason’s couch. She tugged off his cape and helped him peel off the one-piece polyester outfit. Underneath, he wore a Dragons tee and sweatpants with a pronounced bulge in front.

  “Please tell me Jason won’t be back soon, because I desperately need to make love to you.”

  “He’ll be back Tuesday.” Carrie gave Seth her best seductive smile as she lay back on the couch.

  “Thank God.” He came down on top of her, pulling down the cup of her corset on one side. His mouth found her hard nipple and sucked.

  Carrie squirmed and cried out. Desperate to feel his skin against hers, she tugged at his shirt until he pulled away to yank it off. He made quick work of the rest of his clothes, then Carrie’s. He lowered himself back to her, and she moaned at how good it felt to have him warm and naked against her.

  “I didn’t think we’d have this again.” Her voice came out a whisper. “I—” She broke off, unable to say more.

  “Come home with me.” Seth used his thighs to press hers wider. His erection teased her, making it hard to think. “Not as Maddie’s nanny, not as our housekeeper, not any of those things. Come home with me as my girlfriend. As the woman I love. As the woman I want to fall asleep with and wake up to every day. As the woman who makes my house a home.”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  A strained smile teased Seth’s lips as he shifted his hips to enter her.

  “Yes,” Carrie breathed again.

  “Yes to sex or yes to moving in with me?” Seth groaned as he pressed in farther.

  He felt so good, filling her in all the places that had been empty for the past month.

  “Both,” she moaned as he reached the hilt. She wrapped her arms and her legs around him and used her nose to nudge his face up so she could see his face.

  Opening herself completely, putting everything she had on the line, she looked deep into his eyes. “I want that too. I love you. You are my heart.”

  He was everything she wanted. He was home.

  For my amazing stepdad Peter, who instilled in me a love of football. I miss you every day.

  Acknowledgments

  First off, thank you to my agent, Jessica Alvarez, for loving this book and championing it so we could find it the very best home. To my editor, Junessa Viloria, and the whole Loveswept team, for loving Seth and Carrie and the whole Dragons team as much as I do.

  I am so grateful to my friend Ashley Hearn, who met me at a coffee shop in the suburbs and helped me conceive of this book. This series has been in my head for more than a decade, and without her guidance, it might have stayed there.

  My critique partner and good friend Liz Czukas, I owe you endless thanks for helping me plot this book, walking me through the “I hate this book” phase, and just generally being a fabulous support system.

  All my other writer friends—way too many of you to list by name, sorry!—thank you for all the love, support, and free guidance you offer. Writers kick ass.

  Thank you to my mom, who has been my biggest champion since I wrote my first book at age ten.

  Thank you to my therapist for keeping me from being eaten alive by my anxiety. And to my many doctors and the meds they prescribe to keep me mostly functioning.

  There are so many other people and I’m sure I’ve forgotten more than one. If that’s you, I’m so sorry. I thank you too.

  And always, always, thank you to my family. To my kids for letting me work when they wish I could play, for celebrating my accomplishments with me, and for just being great kids. And Dan, for being an amazing father to our children, an understanding writer-spouse, my biggest support and cheerleader, and my very own happily ever after.

  BY LIZ LINCOLN

  On the Line

  PHOTO: © ANDY TARNOFF

  LIZ LINCOLN has been concocting stories as long as she can remember, and from the beginning they involved two people falling in love. When she’s not writing, she spends her time rooting for the UW Badgers and the Green Bay Packers (or yearning for the return of football season), cross-stitching sassy sayings or nerdy characters (Wonder
Woman is her favorite), and drinking too much Diet Coke. She lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with her husband, two kids, two cats, and a turtle.

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  Read on for an exciting sneak peek of the next Milwaukee Dragons book

  Swagger

  by Liz Lincoln

  Available from Loveswept

  Oh no, oh no, oh no. No no no nononononoooooo.

  Panic bubbled up the back of Bree Novak’s throat. Her graphs couldn’t be gone. She’d spent the past six hours cleaning the data and configuring the damn things.

  She smacked the side of her computer monitor. “I hate you, you stupid antique.” The ancient desktop in her office was glitchy as hell, which was why she usually brought her much newer, much more reliable laptop to work. But of course she’d been in a rush finishing her lesson plan notes, and left it at home.

  Frustrated tears burned the backs of her eyes and clogged her throat. And of course, the ever-present anxiety, pressing on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

  She was not going to have a panic attack. She couldn’t afford to. She just had to get through the last twenty minutes of office hours, then she could go home and recreate six hours of work from the comfort of her couch.

  “Fuck you,” she told the blank spreadsheet glaring at her.

  The low sound of someone clearing their throat startled her, making her snap her head up and let out a startled noise.

  A new sort of panic sizzled over her nerves. She was hallucinating; that was the only explanation. She’d cracked from the stress. Because there was no way in hell that Marcus James, star tight end for the Milwaukee Dragons and the hottest player on the team, was standing in her office doorway leaning on a pair of crutches.