Game for Anything (10 page)

Julie started the car. "Oh, I think going on my date tonight will be entertainment enough," she said darkly.

Ty was very pleased about moving into Julie's little house at the top of Noe Valley for the next couple weeks. But tagging along with her on a date was a bit much—especially since he already wanted to pound the unknown guy's head into the ground.

He lounged on her couch and flipped through the channels. She'd muttered something about needing to get some work done, threatened him with, "Don't you dare to even open my front door or I'll hunt you down and kill you with my bare hands and maybe a sharp knife," then disappeared into her home office. He'd made some calls to his friends to let them know he was going to be busy for a while with some business stuff, chatted with his agent about the pretty public picture he was going to create for Bobby and the Outlaws, then got bored.

And lonely.

Ty couldn't think of the last time he'd had more than fifteen minutes to himself. His house was a constant scene. The party from the night before continued by the pool the next day in an endless cycle. And until yesterday, he hadn't been down into his sanctum for months. Silence made him restless. When he was with other people he could just sit and listen to them talk. It was easy to live up to their expectations of him. It wasn't quite as easy to figure out what his own expectations were, so he'd quit trying. But for some reason, he cared about what Julie thought. He wanted to show her she was wrong about him.

He turned the TV off and wandered over to a book case. Why should he care if she thought he was a worthwhile human being? He made a lot of money for a lot of people—the Outlaws, his agent. He gave more money away than anyone would ever guess to charity, to friends in need, and through the team. But he was pretty sure Julie already knew all that, and wasn't impressed. She didn't think he was capable of being a gentleman.

He sneered at the word as he picked up a weathered copy of
The Great Gatsby,
one of his favorite books. Then he lay down across her couch, his legs hanging over the end. Girly couches and pro football players were rarely a good fit. This one was pretty damn comfortable, even though it could have used three more feet in length.

He was heading into the story's climax a couple hours later when he looked up and realized Julie was standing in the doorway. Actually, she was staring at the book in his hand. She probably didn't think he could read, that the books in his underground den were merely stage props. But he couldn't work up any indignation. Not when she looked so damn good.

"Is that what you're wearing?"

She pulled her gaze away from the book, ran her fingers through her soft blonde waves, then pushed her shoulders back.

"No, this is what I throw on to make a sandwich. I'll get dressed for my date later." Ty was too busy looking at her to pay attention to her sarcastic remark. Fuck, she was gorgeous. The little red lacy thing she was wearing gave the impression of being seethrough. It was the kind of dress that guys would be staring at all night to see if they could maybe, just maybe, see something they weren't supposed to.

Yet she didn't look at all trashy; far from it. Julie couldn't pull off slutty if someone held a gun to her head. On her a strapless red dress and fuck-me heels were sexy yet classy.

"You look amazing."

Her big blue eyes flashed surprise and Ty realized that he liked surprising her. A lot. He'd finally done something to make her feel good, rather than angry and irritated with him.

"I hope this guy is worth it."

So much for the nice moment, he thought as she spun around and went into the kitchen. He followed her in and opened her fridge.

"Make yourself at home," she said, full of snark again.

"Might as well," he said as he moved bottles of organic juice around. "You got anything in here that might not get me labeled 'pussy' on the playground?"

"I don't drink," she said, prim as a nun.

A new fantasy immediately popped into his head. Once he got her into his bed, maybe he could convince her to play the highly-fuckable-nun-who-has-decided-to-make-a-break-from-everything-sheknows-in-an-indecent-red-dress-and-stiletto-heels role. Now
there
was some nice imagery. Very nice.

"You shouldn't, either," she added as his cock got harder beneath the zipper of his jeans. It took him several seconds to figure out what she was talking about. "Since your body is your job and all, I can't see how alcohol helps."

He grabbed a bottle of organic carrot juice, unscrewed the top, then drank straight from the bottle. A look of distaste crossed her face. She really was too easy.

He took the now-empty container over to the sink and rinsed it out. "I agree with you." That made her pause. "Then why do you drink?"

"I don't."

Ah, there was that surprise again.

"You actually expect me to believe that you go to strip clubs sober?" She shook her head. "You're nuts."

She didn't need to know that he'd stopped drinking ten years ago. The morning she'd walked away and never turned back.

"My father was a drunk."

She nodded. "I know. But I guess I thought. . ."

The doorbell rang, and all the things Ty wanted to say were lost in his sudden rage at the asshole on the other side of the door who thought he could touch Julie.

For the next two weeks, Julie was off limits.

To everyone except
him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

There were many reasons why this date-plus-one should have been mortifying: The fact that Ty got to meet a guy she'd liked enough to have dinner with; that she had to explain to Dave that Ty was accompaning them to the restaurant for business reasons; that the owner of the packed restaurant had no trouble whatsoever finding a larger table for "the great Ty Calhoun and his friends" even though there was a two-hour-wait out on the sidewalk; and that Dave was quite possibly the world's biggest Outlaw fan and knew every significant play Ty had made since college, seemed to have memorized their playbook, and hadn't so much as looked at Julie after she'd opened the door.

But the most mortifying thing of all was that Ty cearly felt so sorry for her that he kept coming to her rescue.

For the past hour she'd counted bites, then chews, then sips of water, because even those were more interesting than Dave's incessant football chatter.

Finally, Ty cut him off. "Did you know Julie and I went to high school together?"
Uh-oh.
Dave's mouth opened, making him look like a fish on a hook. What had she ever seen in him?

"Oh man, I can't believe you actually witnessed Ty's moves when he was a teenager. That must have been awesome."

She shook her head. "I didn't go to any football games."

Dave's big mouth grew impossibly bigger. "You missed watching one of the greatest high school players of all time in action? What were you thinking?"

What a total jerk. "Do you really want to know what I was thinking, Dave? Or would you rather ask Ty instead?" she asked sweetly.

Dave blinked in confusion. "Okay." He turned to Ty. "Why didn't she go to football games?" Ty looked impossibly handsome in the dim light, and Julie was sure every woman in the restaurant was having an orgasm over him. She didn't know how he did it, let all those people stare at him, probe at him. She liked her privacy and couldn't imagine giving it up.

"Julie hates football," Ty told Dave.

"Are you crazy?" he squeaked, a very unattractive sound from a man. Ty answered for her. "Not everyone likes sports. You've got to respect the fact that people are different, that they have their own interests." Ty turned away from the bumbling fool. "Who is your favorite novelist, Julie?"

Something within her sparked into life. "Alive or dead?"

"Dead."

"Jane Austen."

"Painter. Dead."

"Mary Cassat."

"Musician. Dead."

"Johnny Cash."

He laughed. "Really?"

She shrugged, smiling for the first time all night. "I've always been a sucker for a rebel." Who would have thought Ty could be so nice? That he'd actually care about her interests, that he wouldn't hold it against her that she didn't know what a safety was?

Clearly, though, Dave didn't care for the new topic of conversation. "What are your plans for next season, Ty?"

Ty waved over the waiter. "I think we're done here. Thanks." He handed him a credit card. Turning to her loser of a date, he said, "First, I'm going to get to bed early tonight." Dave nodded, happy to bask in the glow of his hero, not realizing that his moment of glory had just come to an end.

The waiter quickly returned and Ty signed the bill, then held out a hand to Julie. She gladly accepted it and let him pull her toward him.

He whispered," Say good night, be nice, and whatever you do,
don't
invite him back to your house." His words were soft and comforting, rather than bossy.

Dave followed at Ty's heels like a puppy dog following its master. Forcing herself to be polite, Julie smiled and said, "It's been a lovely evening, Dave, but I'm afraid I've got an early day ahead of me tomorrow. Good night."

Not surprisingly, he barely blinked in her direction. "Fine. Great. So, Ty, you up for getting a beer? I could call some friends to meet us."

A muscle jumped in Ty's cheek and his voice turned cold. "Sorry to disappoint, buddy, but I've got a beautiful woman waiting for me to take her home."

Julie's heart pounded. She didn't need Ty to be her knight in shining armor. Yet it felt so good to hear him call her beautiful.

Dave shook his head admiringly. "Wow, you must get all the babes. Who is she?" A sneer curled Ty's lips and Julie was taken aback, accustomed to the carefree grin that drove everyone wild.

"We're keeping our relationship under wraps," he said. "She's not convinced I'm good enough for her yet."

As Dave's mouth dropped open again, Ty put his big palm on the small of Julie's back and guided her through the front door, then out around the corner.

Perfectly happy to go wherever Ty was leading her if it meant getting away from that uber-jerk, she was surprised to find that he'd just steered her into a tiny pizza joint.

"Two slices with everything on 'em and a pitcher of Coke," he told a passing waiter, then pushed her into a carved wooden booth and shoved in next to her. "Please tell me that was a blind date." Her stomach was grumbling. The waiter slid two enormous pizza slices onto the table. She picked one up and inhaled.

"I wish." She took a bite. And then another. "God, this is good." Julie couldn't deny how nice it was to have Ty's warm, hard body pressed up against her in the little booth. He was watching her eat, his eyes moving from her mouth, to her throat, to the tops of her breasts on display in her red dress.

She felt like an idiot for even bothering to dress up for a dud like Dave, but at the same time, part of her was happy she'd looked good. Foolishly, she liked it when Ty looked at her. Liked it even better when he was enticed by what he saw.

She looked down at her empty plate, then at his full one. She'd been raised always to be a lady. And a lady never ate more than a man, never raised her voice, never put herself in an untenable position. Thus far with Ty, Julie had done all three. And the strangest thing was, she wasn't the least bit ashamed of any of it. In fact, she felt downright good.

"You gonna eat that?" she asked, swiping his slice before he could answer.

"Few things are sexier than a woman who eats," Ty murmured, and his words felt like a caress. Her nipples hardened beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

She gulped down some soda, then wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand. God, she loved how free she suddenly felt.

"I refuse to believe that any of those women by your pool eat. They're all ribs and silicone." He stared at her. "I don't believe I've ever called those girls sexy, have I?" She forced herself to swallow. "I guess I just assumed."

"They're not my type."

The noise of the pizza joint fell away and she felt like they were the only people in the room.

"As far back as I can remember, I've had a thing forcurvy blondes with big . . ." Why did he have to be so predictable, such a cavemen?

"Brains." He grinned, then looked down at her amply presented chest. "Although a nice pair of breasts is good too."

She reached out for her soda, trying not to show how pleased she was by his comment. "We all know you're a master at coming on to women," she said, trying to extricate herself from the position she was in. The one where she was about to beg him to take her right then, right there on the table.

"Unexpected compliments, focusing on their hidden assets." Ignoring her sarcasm, he said, "I just want to say one more thing about tonight, and I don't want you to try to turn it around or read anything bad into it, okay?"

She looked up at him and saw sincerity in his eyes. "I'm all ears."

"Your date was an ass. He was crazy for not paying attention to you. And he doesn't deserve you." His words hung in the air, and Julie could have sworn she heard what he didn't say:
And I don't
deserve you, either.

Only she was starting to wonder if maybe he did.

Ty bought her an ice cream cone and she enjoyed t more than she should have. If she'd had any sense of self-preservation she would have ended the night long ago, locked herself in her bedroom and forced herself to watch the news or read a book.

But surprisingly, she enjoyed his company. He had a natural charm with his fans. Dozens of people wanted pictures and autographs outside the ice cream parlor. When the two of them finally returned to her home, everything in her world felt like it had been turned upside down. She couldn't deny the truth any longer. She wanted him. Desperately. Wanted him touching her, kissing her. Wanted him inside her. Her body no longer cared what her brain was telling it or the warning sirens clanging around in her head.

"Thanks for a great night," she said, and she meant it. But she also hoped that he'd know she was trying to say she didn't want it to end.