Game For Love: Devil of the Gridiron (Kindle Worlds Novella) (5 page)

“Can't.” He closed his mouth over hers.

She grabbed his shirt's collar, her knuckles pressed into his firm skin. So warm. If they kissed like this for hours, she wouldn't mind it one bit. Especially when he wrapped his arms around her waist and all she could feel and smell was him.

Eventually, he let her up for air, so she said, “I need more clothes if I'm staying the weekend,” she said.

“You may be the first woman I've met who packs an overnight bag for what she thinks is a one-night stand. You are a unicorn.”

“Did you see any rainbows last night?” Charlotte's blush ruined the effect of her salty words, but he still laughed.

“Let me make a call so you don't have to leave.”

“For clothes?” She tried to wrap her head around that. Logically, she knew football players had money to burn, but they had on call gophers, too? “And what happens after this call?”

“Don't know, but today, a size 36DD bra will be handed to me. Along with other things. I like today.”

She gasped, shocked at his accuracy, though she shouldn't have been surprised. He was probably better than Macy's—no measuring tape required. “Well, I'm starving and there is a well-stocked fridge.” She thought about Adam…really thought about him. “As for the clothes, make sure they cover everything. Not just lingerie you want to see me in.”

The way he grinned pretty much confirmed she'd been right.

“Adam.”

“What?” he widened his eyes and tried to look innocent.

She shook her head and passed him to go back into the house. He let her by with only an ass smack.

It didn't take her long to get the lay of the land in his kitchen. There was an order to the spices, pans, and pots. She believed his brag about cooking, many things were out of her reach, though just right for his. She worked around it, pulling out the parsley, spinach, mushrooms, and leftover wine from the night before as his voice drifted from the living room.

He must have trusted whoever he gave the task to. Wouldn't buying her clothes pretty much confirm he'd broken his no women rule? Despite their talk, that fact still left her with a greasy knot in her stomach. Silence filled the living room for another minute then his phone rang.

She could almost feel the stillness in the air before he answered. “Kent?” His tone wasn't cold but cautious.

She turned down the heat on the stove, feeling wrong for eavesdropping but unable to do anything else. This was a sneak peek into his every day life.
Of course
, she was curious.

“Sure,” he said. “No. Problem. When?” Pause. “If today is good for you. No. No. It's not an inconvenience. Anything for you.”

The olive oil sizzled, and she turned the fire down more. Seconds later, Adam came into the kitchen. His shoulders were high as though tension had decided to hitch a ride on his back.

She threw in the spinach first as he stood brooding out the nook's windows. If this had been a real relationship, she wouldn't have hesitated to ask what was bothering him. Nothing seemed to waylay him to put his hands on her in the most delicious ways, but opening up to show her his insecurities, his deeper problems? Different story.

Charlotte stayed in that should-I-or-shouldn't-I space until she prepped the portobello mushrooms. She put together a tray of cheese and crackers and took them over to him.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked.

He glanced at her, his jawline hard. “About?”

She inhaled, took hold of her newfound courage and asked, “You seem tense.”

He stalked over to the small plate she'd put out and popped food into his mouth. It took another five seconds for him to answer. “An old college friend would like to meet me later to talk about a business investment.”

She frowned, confused. “And that's bad?”

“The fact he even has to ask? Yes. I'd give it to him without question. He—uh—saved my ass back in college, and it cost him his career.”

And that's when she understood. He'd talked about not feeling like he deserved any of the fame or the wealth. It made no sense. What little Charlotte knew of his profession, he spent most of his year on the road, staying in shape and making the PR rounds. She'd just caught him in his down time.

“No matter how you got where you are, you still wouldn't be there if you didn't work your butt off, Adam.”

He tilted his head, but his expression remained blank. “And you know that?”

“You haven't done anything halfway since I met you. A short time, yes, but you didn't have to keep your word and come to the Williamson Center.”

He shrugged. “That wasn't asking for much.”

A lesser man would have demanded something else in exchange. He hadn't, probably never would.

“Exactly.” She pushed the plate closer. “Sit and watch me cook. I'm amazing when I'm cooking.”

A smile whipped over his face. “Now
this
I find interesting.”

“What?”

“This is you being cocky.”

She shrugged and strode back into the kitchen area. Maybe this time it was her who had a cocky bounce in her step. “Know what you're good at and own it.”

“I like it,” he murmured.

When she glanced at him, the tension had leaked back in, making his jawline tight and his gaze unreadable. She wished that she had a surefire way to comfort him. Sex would only distract him and act as a Band-Aid.

“When do you meet with him?” she asked.

“Tonight after he gets off work.”

His friend worked on a Saturday? “What does he do?”

“Mechanic.”

She nodded. “Until then, you can help me with sides. I'm making stuffed portobello mushrooms.”

He pushed from the kitchen chair. “That doesn't sound like it comes with meat.”

She chuckled. “You can make steak.”

“I'll make steak.”

“Fine cuisine—” She spread her hands out.

“Doesn't appreciate steak enough,” he finished for her.

Charlotte laughed. He stopped at her side and kissed her brow. “I love your laugh.”

Again, he stole her words. When he edged back, she managed to say, “Wash your hands.”

He grinned. “We've upgraded to three words when you're flustered.”

There. The smile lit in his eyes now, too. She rose to the tips of her toes and kissed him. “Now wash your hands.”

“Four,” he muttered. “Leaps and bounds.”

Warmth sluiced down into her stomach. For the moment, it was more than enough to ignore the unease.

CHAPTER NINE

Adam frowned at the private room. It was too much. He didn't want to come off as waving his wealth in Kent's face. The table was small-at least that would keep the meeting from veering into a King listening to his commoner. The expensive curtain separating the room from everyone else didn't help, though.

He stood, a restless edge digging at him. It wasn’t that he wasn't happy to hear from Kent. They'd kept in touch after college, but then the contact dwindled to almost nothing after Kent had married then had kids. Not a lot of common ground between a single man who didn't see marriage in his cards and who traveled most of the year.

Had Adam felt relief his guilt wouldn't need to be shoved in his face every time they sat back and had drinks? Was it grief at the lost of a friendship he'd valued for years? Adam never knew, never let himself think too long over the warring emotions, either. It wouldn't change the past.

Movement caused him to face the curtain. Kent smiled at him. He still looked like a corn-fed Kansas boy with blond hair and blue eyes to round it off. “You've never been good at waiting.”

Adam crossed the room to shake Kent's hand and was dragged into a hug. He didn't mind the  embrace since it had been a long while since he'd seen his friend.

When they pulled back, Kent's smile had widened. “With that out of the way, I have to say, you still practically telegraph when you're going to move to the left.”

Adam laughed. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Last season.”

He gestured to the table. “I can almost hear your voice whenever I do. Carpenter, drop your damn hands and stop telling me when you're going to move.”

“Never listened, and that's why you get hit and hit hard at every opportunity.” Kent made his way to the table. If Adam didn't know to look for it, he could have missed the imperceptible limp Kent walked with.

Adam's stomach clenched.

His friend shook his head. “I never understood why you felt guilty about this.”

Adam hadn't wanted this to come up. “If I hadn't been drinking the night before—”

“What they decided to do on the field was on them, not you. They were pounding you. I had to help. The ref and the coaches would have left you open to that beating.”

“But it ended your career.”

“But not my life.” Kent shrugged. “I met Angela, we have a kid. I wouldn't take it back. Not for one moment.” His friend sighed. “Now I say all that and expect you to foot the bill.”

“Well, that definitely hasn't changed.” He smiled. “I was always the one who foot the grocery bill.”

They settled into their chairs and continued to catch up. Food came and went, but eventually, Kent dug into his back pocket and laid out a bent manila folder.

Adam knew it was a point of pride for him to ask for money. Food was one thing. Making your own way, another. Something they'd shared. Here Kent was asking for money when it should be the other way around.

All those years ago, Adam had slept with a cute girl. Turned out she dated one of the guys on the opposing team—a moose of a lineman. The other team did their best to punish him. Kent had stepped up to cover him every play. The opposing team didn't stop until a hit meant for Adam broke Kent's leg in three places.

“What do you have for me?” Adam asked, knowing he'd say yes to anything his friend requested.

“I'm branching out to a franchise. Tires, rims, seat covers.”

Adam raised a brow. “Pimping out rides?”

Kent laughed. “Pretty much. I'll keep the mechanic shop open, but some of the guys I have on body and paint are real artists. I'll start small here in the Bay Area. I need the money, and the bank isn't willing.”

Adam put his hand out to look at the business plan. It was pretty solid, which told him more about Kent than any conversation they could have had. His friend hadn't been the best at planning for the future.

“Marriage has made you organized. I never knew that kind of miracle was possible.”

Kent snorted. “She's good for me. What about you?”

Charlotte had pulled him out his funk. If she hadn't been there, he probably would have paced his home, his stomach in knots at the upcoming meeting. They'd kissed, he'd groped her, they’d eaten, he’d groped her again. Every time she would laugh, he'd feel awed, drawn into her.

But they'd just met. He couldn't take their relationship public. He was not the man she should be with.

“No women,” Adam answered.

“That, my friend, was a pregnant pause. Who is it?”

Adam pulled out his checkbook. Kent muttered, “She must be special if you'd rather hand over money than answer the question.”

“Charlotte,” he bit out. “We just met. We're not even dating. I like her.”

“Interesting.”

He pushed the check over to Kent. “What?” The question came out sharp.

“I've never known you to get this uncomfortable when you're talking about just a fling.”

He worked his mouth into telling the lie right on the tip of his tongue and then sighed. “I'll take back the check.”

Kent picked up the money, shoved it in his pocket, and then said, “Tell me about her.”

Right. He forgot that about his friend. He was like a dog with a bone. Adam scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I don't know.”

“You don't know about her, or you don't know how to talk about her without swooning?” Kent raised his glass to his lips and let that settle in the air.

He glanced at the baked potato remains on his plate. They'd done something fancy to it, but a potato was a potato. “I like this place. I come here at least once whenever I'm home. Throwing my leftovers at you would be childish and get me banned.”

Kent grinned. “You have matured. Back in the day, you would have thrown it at me.”

Adam chuckled. “I'm tempted to do it anyway. So let's just leave it at that. I like Charlotte. Under different circumstances, I'd go the traditional route and date her.”

Kent frowned at him. “Can't you?”

He straightened at the question. “What?”

“What's the wording in your contract?”

“How'd you get to that conclusion?” He was hedging since his friend had hit the mark.

“First, you were traded, and then I saw your post-game interviews. Something was up.”

Adam tried to swallow the laugh and failed. “So around the same time I started being polite to the media, there weren't any more women.”

“Exactly.” Kent chuckled. “Had to be something contractual. So no more sex scandals? No revolving door of women?”

Huh. Anyone could take one look at Charlotte and know she wasn't his usual fare of woman. He could probably get his attorney to go over the wording again to find loopholes. And then there would be no reason he couldn't date her. What excuse would he have then?

You don't belong with her.

But he wanted to. He wiped the corners of his mouth. It had gone dry. “We'll see.”

Kent tilted his head. “I know we haven't seen each other in years…”

Not a day went by that Adam didn't think about the choices he'd made and how that had changed his life. “You can say whatever. It's fine.”

“And you won't believe me. You always had this hero complex. If you weren't the one jumping on the grenade…” Kent laughed. It sounded sour. “Did you ever think, for one moment, how much harder you worked than everyone else?

He leaned back in his chair as though he could distance himself from the words. “I worked just as hard—”

“No, you didn't. Whenever I went to practice, you were there before me. Whenever I left for training, you were still there. You partied hard, and you went through women only because you worked twice as hard. Where the hell would you have had the time to do anything else? And you're still doing it. What more do you have to prove, Adam?”

The words dug their way into his gut. He slouched in the chair to force himself to relax under the discomfort. “I'm starting to think you really didn't want money but instead you wanted to give me advice.”

Kent smiled. “Two birds, one stone.”

“What are you getting out of it?” His voice was harsh, but he couldn't help it.

Kent shook his head. “My wife is tired of me whining about how I feel guilty about my friend feeling guilty about the stupid shit we did back in college.”

Adam laughed, because that sounded like a verbatim quote and definitely something Charlotte would tell him if he'd had the balls to spill out the full story.

Charlotte
. She'd love this restaurant. She'd smile at him over the menu and probably talk her way to the back to meet the chef. She shouldn't have to hide, and he didn't want her to. Hell, he was going to have to call his attorney.

Adam glared at his friend. “So you got married and turned soft? Got it.”

“Yeah. You haven't changed that much. I still want to throttle you every now and again.”

Adam glanced down at his hands. “I'm going to need a lot of updates. That was a big check I wrote.”

The words were lies, but if it meant he got to talk to Kent more often, he'd tell it. His friend could probably see that truth. Given the warm smile his friend wore, he did.

“Update you every time I spend a single penny? Duly noted.”

“Good,” he said and returned the big grin.

*****

Sunday morning, Adam rolled into Charlotte with a loaded weapon pressed against her butt. She fought the smile. “Didn't you get enough of me last night?”

He rubbed his stubble against her bare shoulder. “New day, new opportunities to get you naked before the weekend is over.”

Considering only a sheet covered her at the moment, he didn't have to work too hard. “You're making breakfast then.”

“There's leftover steak,” he said and laughed.

She snorted. “Add an omelet, and I won't mention fine cuisine.”

He nipped her ear lobe. “Deal.”

His hand rode up from her hip to cup her breast right as his phone vibrated on the nightstand. Cool air swept in when he rolled to answer. “Yeah.” Pause. “Hey, man.”

Adam put his morning wood back where he wanted it as he chatted for the next five minutes. Charlotte only minded that the conversation got in the way.

“No, I'd love to, but I have company. Let me ask.” He put his chin back on her shoulder. “Some of my old teammates are in town. They want to play a pick up game and catch up.”

Disappointment sank in her stomach like a stone. “If you haven't seen them in a while, it's fine. I should probably head home anyway.”

He frowned. “You want to go home?”

She returned the grimace. “Isn't that what you're asking me to do?”

“I want you to go with me.”

She had to turn around and see his face. The solemn note in his tone shone right there in his eyes. “That's a big risk, Adam.”

“It should only be friends there, at someone's private home.”

“And what am I?”

“Charlotte.”

Her heart raced at his answer because he must have thought about what she was to him. “If you really want me to go.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “You'll meet my friends, their families, then watch me play a pick up game. You'll think I'm a football god, a nice guy, and jump me as soon as we get back to my place. Of course I want you to go.”

She smiled at him. “You are a nice guy.”

He put his cell back to his ear. “We'll be there in an hour.” Pause. “Yes, I'm bringing someone. Don't—” He sighed and tossed the phone onto the bed.

“What?”

“Nothing. Rain check on brunch. It's a forty-minute drive.”

That was when the nerves managed to sink in, and they remained for the next hour until he pulled up to a home in Emeryville. It was smaller than she’d expected, but at the same time, she assumed most of his friends would have huge mansions. “Isn't your old team located in the South?”

“Second home, mostly because summers are brutal in Georgia.”

Cars lined the street and filled the circular driveway. He'd dressed in basketball shorts and a light T-shirt. Charlotte had followed his lead and decided to wear jean shorts and a sweetheart-cut halter. The sandals he—or rather his invisible gopher had picked—were cute and sparkly, but now she felt way too dressed down.

“I assumed a small get-together, Adam.”

He threw his SUV into park. “This is small.”

There had to be twenty-five cars, and that was being generous because she wasn't counting every vehicle on the street, just the ones closest to the home and in the driveway.

“Charlotte…”

She managed to tear her attention from the street, and momentarily, her mind stopped spiraling into a panic as she looked at him. “Yes?”

“Be yourself and you'll be fine. Everyone is going to love you.”

She wasn't so sure of that, but by the time she came up with a pretty good reason for him to just take her home, he'd opened the door then pulled her out after she’d refused to move. He clasped her hand. She didn't want to say he dragged her up the small hill that led to the home, but there were more than a few encouraging tugs to bring her to the door.