Broken Play (3 page)

“No,” he said, the charm back in his voice, a sexy little drawl making it sound like
Naw.
“Those were promises.”

She actually felt a bead of sweat slip down her cleavage, and she shivered.

“Stop it,” Beau said. “You're scaring her.” She glanced at him and he looked a little sad, his eyes big and golden brown, and soft with some emotion she couldn't name. Instinctively she knew he wasn't the threat here, which threw her into confusion. Wasn't he the one in charge?

“I'm not scared,” she said. It was a knee-jerk reaction, something she'd said so often in the past few years—to others and to herself—that it was second nature.

Cass sort of rolled himself along the wall toward her until he was leaning over her, not quite pressed against her, his hands on either side of her head, one still holding his hat. “Good,” he said, his voice rough and heavy with wanting. “I don't want you scared.”

She was breathing too fast. “Move your arms,” she said, and she winced at the panic in her voice.

“Cass,” Beau said. She saw his hand on Cass's shoulder and her heart nearly beat out of her chest. She had to put her hand up to her chest and press against it to make sure it didn't.

“You know I'd never hurt you,” Cass said softly. He turned and tossed his hat onto the couch, against the opposite wall. Then he dropped both arms to his sides. He didn't move back, though. He stayed close enough that she could feel his heat and smell his cologne and a hint of his sweat and deodorant and laundry detergent and shampoo, all the things that combined to be Cass's scent. She hadn't realized she knew his smell so well. It was an odd thought and made her frown at him. He frowned back. “Don't you?” he asked.

It took a moment to remember what he'd said. “Yes.” She did know it. But that didn't make her heart slow down, because she wasn't afraid of him. She was afraid of herself, and what she'd let him do if she let go.

“Yell at me.” Beau's soft words were lost in Cass's gaze for a second and then they sank in.

“I should,” she said, standing straighter and tugging on the hem of her shirt nervously. “What in the hell do you think you were doing out there?” She pushed on Cass's chest, but he wouldn't budge, so she stood on tiptoe and glared at Beau over his shoulder.

“Speaking my mind,” Beau said. He walked over and dropped down on the couch, easily within her sight, making sure not to crush Cass's hat. “It's been a long time since I've been able to do that.”

“So you decide to do it on my watch?” Marian said in a strangled voice. “Gee, thanks.”

“On your watch?” Beau asked, obviously getting angry. “Now you're my babysitter, too? Jesus, how many do I need?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Cass said, turning to glare at Beau, hands on his hips.

“Don't try to distract me with a lovers' quarrel,” Marian warned them. “I'm still pissed about Beau's big mouth.”

Cass slowly swung his head back around and pinned her to the wall with his stare. He had the bluest eyes, and they could go cold and hard as fast as they could turn hot and heavy-lidded. “Lovers' quarrel?” he asked quietly. Too quietly. Marian tried to slide sideways along the wall, out of his reach.

“That's right,” she said, full of false bravado. She thought for a second that this must be what the canary felt like before the cat pounced.

Suddenly Beau laughed loudly, a harsh bark that sounded more incredulous than amused. It broke Cass's stare and Marian quickly moved over to lean against her desk, facing them on more solid ground. “What's so funny?”

“We”—he gestured between him and Cass—“are not lovers. We're friends and we fuck women together. That's it.” He didn't sound happy about it. Or was he unhappy that people thought they were?

“Beau.” This time it was Cass trying to yank on the leash with a warning in his voice.

“Forget it,” Beau said flatly. “I've come out of my shell today. I'm not crawling back in.”

“If you climb into the same bed naked with someone who is also naked in order to have sex, you're lovers,” she told them. “I don't care what slot the tabs are going in.”

This time both men laughed in genuine amusement. “Tabs B and C go in slot woman, not slots B or C,” Cass told her, and it took a moment to figure out which was which. She was not on top of her game today.

“I sort of agree with Marian.” Beau's answer made Cass look at him with big eyes. Beau shrugged. “Just speaking my mind today.”

“What kind of pill did you take this morning that made that seem like a good idea?” Cass asked.

Beau's face turned to stone. “None. As my main babysitter, you made sure of it.”

Cass sort of crumbled where he was standing, his shoulders slumping. “That's not what I meant,” he said. “It was meant to be a joke. Sort of an
Alice in Wonderland
thing. Never mind.” He shook his head.

Beau looked away and wiped a hand over his mouth and chin in a distinctly male sort of gesture. Marian felt a silly, little-girlish thrill at it. She straightened against the desk. Now even her palms were sweating. Alarm bells were ringing. “Great. Kiss and make up.” She turned and walked around her desk and sat down, breathing a little easier with the solid-maple furniture between her and the two overpowering men in her office. “Beau, you're going straight from this office down the hall to PR. We're going to have to try to spin this in some sort of positive light.”

“I don't want to kiss Beau,” Cass said. Marian looked over at him, slightly exasperated that he'd ignored the second half of what she'd said. “Right now,” Cass added, and Marian was left with her mouth hanging open, whatever she'd been planning to say forgotten. Cass gave her that sexy grin he'd been using on her for the past few weeks, the one that made her knees a little week. Good thing she was sitting down.

“Whatever,” she said dismissively, but it was ruined by the breathy quality of her voice. She cleared her throat. “You can kiss someone's ass to save your boyfriend, then. And it won't be mine,” she quickly added. “I'm sure someone higher up the food chain is yelling his name into a phone right now.” She sighed. “The fact is, Beau, while you are a valuable member of this team, we need Danny Smith. If he reacts badly to what you said today and continues to make trouble, then it's your ass on the line. Not mine. Not Cass's. Yours. You want to speak your mind, you accept the consequences.”

“That's right,” Cass told Beau. “You can't say shit like that and not expect consequences.” He was giving him the same stare he'd given Marian moments ago. Instead of irritating her, it turned her motor up to eleven. She'd never seen the two look at each other like that. That they should do it here, alone with her, made her feel a part of it, like they wanted her to see it and enjoy it. And, boy, did she. Cass turned to her. “You and I are not talking about the same thing, by the way.”

“Thanks for the clarification,” she told him, her voice breathless again.
Shit.
She had to get it together. “I hadn't figured that out.”
There.
That sounded nice and sarcastic. No crazy, inappropriate lust here. Nope.

“Got it. Consequences,” Beau said. He sounded almost as breathless as Marian, which pushed her another notch higher on the lust meter. Somewhere in the midst of this conversation she'd figured out who held the reins, and it wasn't Beau. It was the cowboy.

“Go to dinner with us.” Cass's invitation was so out of context that she shook her head, frowning, feeling like she was playing catch-up.

“Why not?” Cass asked. He'd taken her reaction as a no, and she let the misunderstanding lie.

“Because that's a bad idea. Me”—she pointed to herself—“coaching staff. You”—she pointed to the two of them—“players.” And she meant that in more ways than just football. She shook her head more vehemently. “That's asking for trouble.”

“Well, as Beau said, we're bringing trouble right to your door,” Cass said with an easy, charming smile. Had she thought at one time it would be easy to resist the charming cowboy act? What a moron she'd been.

“That's not what he said. He said ‘fucking door.' I was there. I heard him, and so will all of America. On ESPN.”

“No,” Cass drawled again. “They'll just hear a beep, and read his lips instead. I watch hockey. I know how they do it.”

She couldn't help it. She laughed. “Okay, okay.”

“Is that a yes?” Cass asked quickly. He sat down on the edge of her desk and reached for her hand. He picked it up and kissed the back, and yes, she was charmed again, damn it.

“No,” she said. “It was an expression, an acknowledgment that you were right about ESPN. We are not going to dinner. Getting involved with you two would be stupider than stupid.”

That brought Cass up short, and Beau got up and walked over to stand in front of her desk with his arms crossed, frowning. “Why?” he asked.

“Well, the coach and player thing, but even more important is the consequences thing.” Beau blushed, but she didn't let him off the hook. “I'm not sure I'm woman enough to deal with not being the center of attention,” she admitted honestly. “You two have some strong chemistry, and only a fool would get in the middle of that. It's a sure heartbreak waiting to happen. So, no, thank you very much. I will not go to dinner.”

“I'll make a bet with you,” Cass offered. He'd flipped her hand over and was tracing the lines in her palm with one wide, callused finger. Amazing how much damage one finger could do to your defenses.

“I don't gamble,” she said desperately.

“Sure you do,” Beau said, sitting with one knee pulled up on the front of her desk. “You work for the Rebels. This whole operation is a gamble, and you know it.”

She couldn't deny that. “True.” She sighed in resignation. “All right. What's the bet?”

“One kiss.” Before she could protest, Cass went on. “And if you aren't impressed, no dinner. If you are, dinner. That's all. One kiss. Dinner or no dinner.”

That was a no-brainer. She'd been unimpressed by plenty of kisses in the past. Even if this one knocked her socks off she could fake it from past experience. “Okay.”

Cass looked too pleased for her peace of mind. “One kiss with each of us.”

“What?” Surely she hadn't heard correctly. Theoretically she'd known that's how they liked it. Well, not theoretically. They'd told her. Can't get much more concrete than that.

“Beau first.” She was surprised again by Cass's words, but not as surprised as Beau.

“Me?” Beau asked, a hand to his chest.

“Yep.” Cass tugged on her hand, pulling her out of her chair. She could have protested but didn't. This was the surest way to get them to forget the whole idea of the three of them. She broke out in goosebumps just thinking about the three of them as the three of them.

Cass set her in front of Beau, who'd stood up from her desk. Beau was frowning. “Well, don't have a breakdown over it,” she told him, a little irritated at his lack of enthusiasm.

He laughed then, and up close and personal? Wow. It was pretty devastating to her composure. Had he always had that dimple? He had some seriously white teeth against all that copper skin.

“Trust me, I'm not having a breakdown over it,” Beau told her. He ran his hand down her arm and took her hand from Cass. “Come here.” He pulled her in and she ran into his chest—his very solid, muscular chest. She had a vision of that chest all sweaty in the locker room earlier.

“One kiss,” she said in a rush. “Just one.”

“Just one,” he agreed solemnly.

As soon as his lips touched hers she realized this might have been a big mistake. There was a tingling rush, as if he'd shocked her. She gasped and he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She hadn't expected his lips to be so soft, or his taste so sweet. He wore different cologne from Cass's, or maybe none at all. He smelled like citrus and spice, a clean, utterly masculine scent. His arms slid around her and pressed gently against her back. His hands were so large they covered almost her entire back. She sucked in a breath and it was all Beau—his taste and scent and the heat of his slick, wet tongue, and she made a noise in her throat that would have been embarrassing if she cared. He deepened the kiss and she surrendered completely, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and letting him support her. She felt him smile against her mouth, and she bit his lip sharply. He pulled back, but not as quickly as she'd thought he would. He gave her one last lick, a teasing flick against the inside of her lip, and then he broke away. He looked down at her, and the sharp lines of his face were softened by the tender look in his eyes.

“My turn.” Cass's throaty voice came from directly behind her. She'd completely forgotten about him standing there as Beau kissed her. Unbelievable. She was gently turned in Beau's arms until she faced Cass. Instead of pulling her to him, he stepped into her, pressing her back against Beau. She was caught between their heat and hard bodies, but it wasn't panic making her heart race and bringing a flush to her skin. Cass cupped her cheeks and kissed her without another word.

He kissed her as if he owned her already. As if she was his to do with as he pleased. She wanted to protest, but she couldn't. Right then he did own her. His mouth was as rough as Beau's had been tender, his beard a coarse, erotic caress against her face. But she was ready for it, as if Beau's sweetness had only dampened her appetite for the sharpness of Cass's kiss. She clutched fistfuls of Cass's T-shirt and opened her mouth to him, inviting him in to possess her. It was the most blatantly sexual thing she'd ever done. His hands slid into her hair and he cupped the back of her head, holding her prisoner against his mouth, and she actually felt the wet rush between her legs. A pulse began to beat there, in the heat and wet of her pussy, and Marian felt the first stirring of panic. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to want them. Not like this. This was what had happened last time, and had ended so badly. With a gasp, she tore her mouth from Cass's. Her breath was fast and choppy, and Cass slowly eased his hands down to her shoulders and then her upper back, where he smoothed one palm against her, shushing her with a quiet and gentle sound. Beau's hands grasped her upper arms from behind in a soft, nonthreatening hold. He rubbed her arms with his thumbs.

“All right?” Beau asked, and his breath ruffled the hair on the side of her head. She felt that traitorous pulse between her legs.

She nodded. “Would you believe me,” she asked in a voice rough with desire, “if I told you I was completely unimpressed?”

Cass chuckled and kissed her cheek, and Beau's laughter ruffled her hair again.

“Dinner it is, then,” she said, pretending it was resignation and not anticipation she felt.

“So how did it go with PR after you left my office?” Marian asked, fiddling with her silverware. She'd met them at an expensive steak house in downtown Birmingham. Cass figured it made her feel better, like she had a getaway plan. But there was no way—absolutely no way—she was going anywhere. Already she'd fundamentally changed his and Beau's relationship. For the better. Nothing had come of their teasing promises this afternoon. They were nervously skirting the issue around one another, but eventually both of them would have to face it head-on and see where it led them. Cass was good with that. It felt right, moving forward. He realized that was what had been bothering him for months, that feeling of being stuck in limbo. It was why he'd taken the Rebels deal, why he'd dragged Beau with him, and why he was pursuing Marian with such single-minded determination. He was tired of standing still. He wanted to go for the goal, and these two were it.

“It was nothing.” Beau shrugged and she stopped fiddling and stared at him in confusion. “They said they wanted to see how the interview was presented by ESPN and what the reaction was. We could have blown a tiny blip out of proportion, according to them. If it blows up on its own, then we'll do cleanup. Their words, not mine.”

She visibly relaxed, maybe because disaster had been averted, or maybe because Beau slid easily into work talk. She'd clearly been braced for something else. They'd get to that, the personal stuff, but Cass was willing to ease her fears with inconsequential small talk until she was ready.

“Good,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Hopefully someone else made unfortunate comments around the sports world today that will supersede your lack of discretion.”

“I'm still not sorry I said it. I meant it.” Beau took a drink of water, his expression practically daring Marian to argue with him. Cass was pretty turned on by this new Beau. Beau had been afraid of offending someone for so long, of being locked out the way he'd been after the overdose. Football didn't like losers. Beau was acting like a winner again. Cass wasn't sure what had prompted the change, but his relief was mixed with a heavy dose of desire. He'd enjoy ordering this Beau around even more than he had the hesitant, hurting Beau that he'd taken in and made his responsibility.

“I know you meant it. Hell, half the team means it. I get that.” She sighed and didn't look at them as she ran her fingers up and down the condensation on her water glass. “But we all have shit we're dealing with, Beau. You don't know what Danny Smith's is. Neither do I. I just don't think we should jump to conclusions. There's always more going on than meets the eye. Always.”

“What's your shit?” Beau asked, sitting back in his chair, his hands falling into his lap. He was wearing a nice black dress shirt with a matching tie. The outfit sort of hid some of the tats on his neck. They were just tribal stuff, nothing gang-related. He'd been a stupid fuck trying to look tough when he got them. They embarrassed him now. Cass liked them. They made Beau look like the tough son of a bitch he was. Nobody went through what he did and came out the other side alive without having balls of steel. Not for the first time, he wished he'd been around Beau before it all went down, when he could have saved him from ever getting involved in the drugs.

“Right now, you two,” Marian answered easily, making Beau laugh.

The people at the table next to them glanced at Beau nervously. Cass and Beau had chosen this restaurant because it was upscale. In their experience, you tended to get bothered less at this sort of place than the local steak house or a mom-and-pop operation, which honestly would have been his first choice. Cass hated having to wear dress clothes. Everything had to be tailor-made to fit him. He was just too damn big for off-the-rack. He was wearing a light-blue dress shirt with pink stripes and no tie. No fucking way he was wrapping a tie around his giant neck unless it was unavoidable. He glanced at Marian and amended that. He'd wear a tie for her. As for the boots, they went where he did.

She was wearing a slinky dress in shades of red and yellow and orange, in some sort of dot design. It crossed over in front, showing some nice, respectable cleavage. Little sleeves covered her shoulders, but her toned arms were bare. She looked classy and good enough to eat. He'd seen heads turn as they walked through the restaurant to their table. He was well aware that the three of them together were quite a sight. He wasn't terribly vain, but he knew they were the best-looking table in the restaurant. He was proud of it. Proud to be seen with Marian and Beau.

“We're your shit, huh?” he asked Marian with that little half grin he'd noticed made her catch her breath.

She nodded. “Yep.” He waited, but she didn't elaborate. “Okay,” he finally said, “I'll bite. Good shit or bad shit?”

“Both.” She smiled, and it seemed genuine. She didn't look stressed anymore, which was a good sign. “I like you guys, I really do.” She reached over and touched Beau's arm. “I wasn't too sure about you in the beginning, but you grew on me.”

“It was the kiss,” Beau said arrogantly.

Marian laughed. “Maybe it was. I feel like I didn't really know who you were until you kissed me. You're not what I thought you were. Not at all.”

“Do I want to know how, or why, or whatever?” Beau asked, taking another drink of water.

“Probably not,” Marian said, raising her eyebrows. “But the fact is, I do like you both, probably more than I should.” Cass started to say something, but she raised her hand and he sat back quietly. “But we're not going to do anything about it.”

“We aren't?” he asked skeptically, knowing she was as wrong as wrong could be.

She shook her head. “Nope. Because I can't get involved with you two.” She sighed and slumped in her seat. “Look, like I said, we all have shit to deal with. I have shit in my past that makes this a really bad idea for me. See?”

Beau leaned toward her, his forearms on the table. “No, we don't see. Whatever happened in your past, that wasn't us. It had nothing to do with us.”

“I didn't say it was fair, Beau. I just said that's the way it is. I'm sorry.” She sounded like she meant it, which made Cass feel slightly better. But he still wasn't going to accept it.

“Can you tell us what happened?” he asked gently.

She shook her head again. “No. I mean, I could. But I don't want to.” She reached out so she was touching both his and Beau's arms. “I hope this doesn't ruin the friendship we've begun. Does it?”