Game For Love: Gridiron Heartbreaker (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Gridiron Bad Boys Book 2) (9 page)

She did her best to smooth away her reaction on her face, but her mouth kept twitching from a restrained smile. “Blaine, you know me so well.”

He brushed his mouth along hers. “I do.”

“Yeah?”

“You want a threesome. You, me, my leather seats.”

Finally she broke and the laugh spilled out. He kissed her. That's what she did to him. He tried to find the fear. A single thought that was a complaint. Blaine couldn't find either. Six months from that moment he knew he wouldn't be tired of her laugh, the way she sighed softly when he put his mouth on her.

He forced himself to break the kiss. “I have another trust building exercise.”

She pressed her tongue to her bottom lip as she narrowed her eyes on him. “And what does this one involve?” She shook her head. “Why?”

“Always with the why,” he murmured.

“And the answer?”

He drew back to rest on his haunches. Her nipples had peaked again—two hard aching nubs waiting for his hands or mouth. A quick peek and her clit was still swollen and glistening. He grasped her thighs.

He could say something filled with innuendo. He could go for over-the-top. Alyssa had jumped on a plane to be with him, in whatever way she could. The minutes he'd waited for confirmation from the driver that he'd picked up the passenger had his stomach in knots.

After his concussion, he'd turned on his phone and there were three missed calls from her and a text. His heart had ached and lifted at the same time. Every time his phone buzzed with a new text from her he'd smiled. Hell, he'd smiled at a notification from her so often the past few weeks his teammates had started to tease him.

Alyssa splayed a hand on his chest. “Why, Blaine?”

“It's past midnight so it's tomorrow. I still feel the same. We...”
I need you to stay.
“...should do everything we can before you go home.”

“We both have to work.”

“Yeah,” he said and sighed.

Work. His included fame and a crazy life that tested any person, especially a significant other. Her life was sedate though not quiet. He knew any kitchen was—cliché intended—a pressure cooker, but she could walk down the street unmolested by fans or the paparazzi. She could have a normal life.

And he needed to know if she could fit into his. He leaned over and took her mouth. Sooner or later the truth would edge its way into their affair. He wasn't going to waste a single moment with indecision.

A nip then a harder bite to her lower lip. He murmured, “Now, this exercise, keep all hands and feet on the designated safety areas.”

“Where are the safety zones?” she asked.

He smiled. Yeah. He really liked her.

CHAPTER NINE

Alyssa watched Blaine with an amused smile as he put on his hide-from-the-press gear. She was perched on the edge of the bed, enthralled by the simple routine that played out a few feet in front of her. It was the early morning hours, but he had on sunglasses and a hat. His long-sleeved shirt and denims would hide anything that could prove or disapprove the existence of tats. He didn't have any and that would make it too easy to spot him. With the curtains closed, it was dark and that somehow fit the tone of her departure.

“Is this what you always have to do to get into a car?” she asked.

“It's not only me. It's my teammates. They take the heat since I'm the QB. People know my name. So if Devon makes a breathtaking play on the field, he'll be asked about that. And right after, he'll be questioned about the new woman in my life.”

He may be a playboy but he was a leader and she liked that about him. “You set the example.”

He tugged his shoelaces. “I try to. It's the owner, the coach, and then me. The difference is I'm on the field with them. I'm not on the sidelines talking about what needs to be done.”

She leaned forward and tilted her head up for a kiss. He gave her a quick one, still looking a bit ridiculous with his low budget disguise.

“So...you like me when I'm being an alpha?” he asked and finished tying the other shoe.

Her panties felt a bit tight. Again. “Maybe.”

After he finished with his shoes, he wasted no time bringing his mouth back to hers. She wanted to get lost in the feel of his lips, the way he flicked his tongue in and out, but how many weeks would pass before she saw him again? Would he send another plane? Was that their real relationship? Late night trips to spend in his bed? Text messages and phone calls would have to hold her over until she could touch him again. If she spent her every free moment with him, what life would she have left?

She'd moved, started a new life and was really settling in. How would she find female friends if her life was a plane secreted to pick her up and then a hotel room with him, both of them naked?

He sighed then pulled away. She couldn't see his eyes behind the shades, but the lines around his mouth told her all she needed to know.

“What is it?” he asked.

She considered telling the truth or putting on a happy face so their stolen time didn't end on a low point. “I miss you already.”

He sighed. “Next week is a home game.”

“Next week is Charlotte and Adam's wedding, too. I'm the chef.”

“Their wedding is Friday. That leaves some time on Saturday for us.”

Maybe
.

Maybe by then he wouldn't feel bored. He'd accept whatever had happened with his mother as life being life. Another pretty girl came along to grab his attention. Playoffs were more important to focus on than her or any relationship they might have.

Anything, everything could happen and that would be that.

He slipped off the sunglasses and gave them to her.

“For the press,” he said. “You look scared.”

I am.

His dimpled smile didn't let her see past the poker face. That simple lip lift was a weapon. She'd mistakenly thought he only used the gesture for seduction.

Alyssa had been so wrong and she didn't know what to do. There was no time machine to go back to the moment when he'd directed his smile her way in the kitchen.

But what would she have done differently? She'd tried to spur his advances—for five seconds—then told herself an affair with him was what she'd needed, and still he'd gotten into her heart, not only her bed. He was supposed to be the one to heal the hurts, not carve new ones.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Nope.

“Let's go,” she said.

*****

Flashbulbs blinded Blaine as soon as he stepped out of the back entrance. What had he expected? His life hadn't followed the easy script for a while. Alyssa already looked on the verge of bolting, finally, seeing his life as it was, and now this. Her face was going to be splashed on every magazine that peddled scandal.

Playboy Football Player Leaves With Escort
.

Because of course she wouldn't be anything else to him.

That was his life and it would only get worse. She'd experience every moment and then...

He gripped her arm and got her into the waiting SUV.

“That was intense,” she said, her voice sounded tight. “Is it always like that for you?”

“Only in the mornings or during playoffs.”

She smiled at him. “I feel like we should take bets on what I'm going to be by the time the papers hit. Your love child or your mistress.”

The joke was forced. He could tell from the way the strain tugged at the skin around her mouth. He wanted to kiss the tip of her nose and reassure her, but he could practically eat the tension swirling around them.

Why did she have to be like everyone else who got this close to him? The glitz had worn off. The hard work of making them real and lasting had begun and all he could see was the doubt on her face. All he could hear was the worry.

He'd thought she would stick her chin out and dare the world, his schedule—everything to break what they had.

She twined their fingers together. There was a tremble in her hand. “What's wrong, Blaine?”

He didn't want to look at her and see the truth plain on her face, but he had to. He didn't get the luxury to ignore the obvious. His life didn't allow it. So he reached up and pulled the sunglasses from her eyes.

Did she know how terrified she looked? How every emotion flitted in her gaze? Not one of them told him she wanted to be with him. He placed the glasses back on.

“We'll be at the plane soon enough.” He sounded all business and not pissed. Small fucking favors.

She settled into the leather seats, her palm was moist as she held his hand.

Hadn't he made it clear he saw them as a couple?

Hadn't he told her what she needed to know to relax and trust him?

Apparently the words didn't, wouldn't sway her. Before he could stew in those dark thoughts, they'd pulled in beside the plane that would take her home.

He said, without thinking, “This is the team's jet. The one they use to bring family in case of emergencies.”

“How did you sway them into letting you use it for a few hours?”

“It was urgent that I saw you. So not a complete lie.”

For the first time since they'd left his bed, she smiled at him. The simple expression punched him in the gut like her smiles always did—when she meant them.

This wasn't a time to make assumptions then decisions. Alyssa deserved the chance to tell him she didn't want his day-to-day insanity. That she didn't want him. He squeezed her hand as the car idled.

“This is my life. I can't force you to accept it. And I can say with one hundred percent honesty this is a good day. Sometimes there won't be a plane. There will be blizzards or press junkets that eat up all my time. There will be women who will do everything in their power to sit where you are sitting. They'll lie if that's what it takes, and you'll have to believe for me it's only you. There will be hits that are bad, and once again you'll feel helpless and worried.”
Tell me you want me despite all that
. He swallowed. “So you tell me; what's next, Alyssa?”

He saw the moment the doubt settled in. Her hand went slack in his as though she wanted to tear herself away. Another beat of silence and he had his answer, no matter what she said.

“Blaine, I—”

“The plane is waiting for you.” His voice came out flat and cold.

The only answer was yes or no. Yes, I want to be with you, despite everything. Yes, I will lo—That hadn't been what she'd planned to say.

“Blaine, we just met. You're asking me a big question and I'm still trying to recover from my last break up. You're asking me to put my heart on the line. So soon. I knew Andrew for years. Years. And we...”

“And we don't get that luxury,” he snapped at her. “I don't.” He inhaled to rein in his temper. She didn't deserve that for being honest. “I can't just let anyone into my life. And if I do, she has to know everything upfront. She has to be prepared. I wish the circumstances were different, but they’re not.”

“I would never ask you to quit your job. You love it. I... need time.”

“You're going to be in the papers tomorrow. We don't have that and you don't want it. You're not ready, and I'd be selfish to ask you to do that for me when...we met a few weeks ago.” The last words had more bite than he'd intended, but she was the first woman to make him reconsider...everything.

Everything
.

He was talking about a future, looking forward to it. Bringing up the topic of kids and not breaking into a damn sweat. He was...

Blaine broke his hand away from Alyssa's then chucked her chin. “It's okay, sweetheart. Your plane is waiting.”

She flinched and he knew he was being a dick. What more could he fucking do? For a moment he'd thought she'd...He rolled his neck and let the what ifs fall from his mind. This was why he kept things light. The twist in his gut was why he believed in only being the fun guy, the life of the party.

Without another word, she slid out of the SUV. She got onto the plane.

And she was back out of his life.

CHAPTER TEN

Alyssa whirled around to Tess and held up the vegetable. “Can I please get artichokes that don't look like they've spent some time in the trash? Look at the color. Feel how dry they are.”

The younger woman's face turned a shade of red and she grabbed the whole box of artichokes. “Right on it, Chef.”

And that made Alyssa feel like shit. “Sorry. Sorry. Put them down. I'll deal with them.”

“No. I'll get you more. Whatever you want, Chef.”

Yup. Alyssa was the scum of the earth. She hated the kinds of jobs where the chef took their mood out on the staff. It always made for an uncomfortable kitchen and that was no way to make food that resonated. Delicious Delights Catering wasn't that kind of place. From day one Charlotte had been open, patient and more than accommodating.

Alyssa was messing with that copacetic vibe in Charlotte's kitchen, and she'd been that kind of a holy terror for four days. One more, then the wedding would be over and she could relax.

That's what she told herself. She wasn't distraught and cranky over a man she'd known for less than a month. She kept her phone squirreled away in her pocket because she wasn't hoping, waiting to get a text or call.

Her heart did not ache. She was having an off week.

“Is there something I can help with?” a woman's voice asked.

Alyssa closed her eyes, collected her sanity and turned with a smile to Charlotte. “Nothing we can't handle. Tess, help the sous chef. We need to get everything chopped.”

Her boss had her hair up and was dressed for comfort instead of style. Despite the seriousness of her expression Charlotte, as always, looked content. “That's not what I heard.”

Alyssa winced. “I'm in a mood and I'm going to cut it out. I'm sorry.”

“Come with me.”

They weaved their way around the food stations, the ovens and finally hit the back door near the freezer.

“I wasn't going to say anything, but after today I feel I have to.” Charlotte blushed then said, “What happened with Blaine?”

“What?” The surprise of the question threw her out of her own malaise.

“I saw you guys flirting at the engagement party and you left with him. Then I saw you guys on a magazine. I read the article end to end.” Charlotte winced. “I know. That's why I didn't want to get in the middle. I was being nosy.” She sighed. “And hopeful. You haven't been the same lately.”

Alyssa swallowed and asked, “What do you mean?”

“I don't know what happened before I hired you, but you were focused and a great chef. No complaints, I promise. But the past few weeks you've been...peppy. The kitchen was a bright spot.”

Alyssa leaned back against the wall. “And now it's not.”

“You're not. So what happened with Blaine?”

A conversation like this would take them from comfortably professional to awkward personal, but Alyssa had questions. She had...a heart ache with Blaine's name on it. She could lie to herself, but apparently she couldn't fake it enough for the people around her.

“How do you do it?” Alyssa asked, a note of desperation in her voice. “Adam's on the road a lot and you rarely get to see him. How do you stay sane? How do you not worry?”

“I work. I see him every chance I can get. He's playing against Blaine's team this Sunday and I'll be there, louder than the cheerleaders. Even if technically it should be our honeymoon. It doesn't matter, because he matters to me, and I to him. We will make it work.”

She stuffed her hands in the uniform's pockets. “How'd you know you could? Or hell that you should?”

“It happened so fast, but he felt right. He felt sincere. I followed my heart and my gut and I don't regret a single second.”

Maybe it was just love talking for Charlotte. Maybe things would change in a year or five.

But did it matter? Right at that moment Charlotte wore a smile that lit her eyes. She wasn't just happy, but content. Alyssa never had that with Andrew. There was always a buzz of tension. She had to be everything he needed and never disappoint him.

With Blaine, he liked her as she was. The only true tension between them was her own doubts...and maybe sexual. Okay, a lot of it was sexual tension, but they sparked whenever they stood near each other.

A sudden tightness squeezed her chest and tears rushed to her eyes. “Dammit. Why couldn't this be simple?”

Charlotte asked, “Do you want to be with him?”

The ache piped up again. She'd missed him. She'd picked up her phone a million times and forced herself to put it back down. He had been asking for a lot, but no more than he was willing to give her. She'd be home and he'd be on the road, missing her just as much. She didn't doubt that for one second.

To Alyssa's surprise, Charlotte embraced her in a hug. The woman was so sweet. Alyssa said, “Thank you for listening to me whine and letting me cry.”

Charlotte pulled back. “Any time, but you didn't answer the question.”

Surprised at the sudden vehemence in her boss's tone, Alyssa considered the question. “I moved here to get over someone.” She shook her head. “I moved here so I could start a new life, with new opportunities.”

“And?”

Andrew was normal, in a sense. No one had ever taken their picture when they left a hotel. She'd never experienced the sickening sensation of seeing her face on a tabloid. She never had to call her mother or her sisters and try to explain, “No she wasn't a mistress.”

But Alyssa had thought the hardest thing she'd ever have to do was call family and friends to tell them about a broken engagement.

No. Trying to breathe after the thought of never hearing Blaine's voice again was hard. Knowing she'd never flirt-text with him again was tough. Having to see his smile and know she hadn't been the one to put it there made her knees want to give.

She could line up her relationship with Andrew and Blaine and the truth would show itself again and again—she and Blaine fit. When she wasn't scared and when he wasn't hurt or angry, they were in sync.

Her heart twisted and she tried to inhale and couldn't. Her chest was too tight. “I don't want to know what it's like to live without him.”

Charlotte smiled. “Now what were you saying about those artichokes?”

Alyssa laughed. Charlotte wasn't a bridezilla but she was a chef. “I'll show you.”

“And then you'll call him?”

“Let's get through your wedding first. I don't think...if he...” In the shattered silence Alyssa admitted the truth—if Blaine turned her down, for good, maybe she wouldn't be able to cook for a wedding of all things.

Charlotte patted her arm. “Okay. Now the artichokes.”

Alyssa's heart still ached, but there was hope. Her gut told her so. She'd listen to it.

*****

“I'm not about to die. I'm getting married.” Adam fixed his tie in the mirror, but his gaze stayed on Blaine. They'd leave the man's house soon enough to track down to the beach where Charlotte and Adam would exchange their vows.

“What?” Blaine asked, a frown marring his face.

The best man, Kent, kicked his chair. “He's saying, in a polite way, you should fucking smile because you're making him nervous.”

Kent looked and sounded like he was raised in a place with farmers and cornfields, but Blaine knew the man had been one hell of a QB before an injury took him out of the game.

“Sorry. Distracted,” Blaine said.

The moment he'd crossed his threshold his mother had been relentless. The CIA could take tips from her on questioning a hostile subject, and he'd been plenty hostile to any Alyssa inquiry his mother had. Alyssa had graced no less than four tabloids. Apparently his mother read all four in her free time.

Is this the woman that's had you smiling?

You look happy here. Why did you end it?

Why didn't you let me meet her first?

She'll be at the wedding. What are you going to do?

On and on until he was grateful, for the first time since her surgery, to leave her at home alone.

Again, he was letting his mind drift. Blaine focused on his friend. “Adam, shouldn't you have been dressed thirty minutes ago? What the hell were you doing?” Yup. A QB giving his former teammate shit.

Adam only smiled and fixed his bow tie.

Kent shook his head before saying, “You should be happy,” the man said. “You're going to win tomorrow's game. Adam can't concentrate on simple things.”

Lucky bastard. The sour thought wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last. If Adam wasn't a friend, Blaine would have passed up the wedding. It had taken everything to not go into the kitchen. Sure he'd ignored his mother's questions, but he had a long enough drive to think about Alyssa. Mentally complain about the entire situation.

Why did they have to have the reception at their house? Adam had enough money to hold the reception at a hotel or a stadium. They had wanted small and intimate. Maybe twenty of their closest friends and family would attend.

Torture, because there was no reason Blaine couldn't check on the chef. Other than the fact he'd ended things. She probably didn't want to see him. If she did, she might actually pull out the nut chopper.

Or ignore him.

That reaction was likely the worse. He'd pushed her out of his life, and, maybe he'd done one hell of a job of helping her get over Andrew. Blaine was nothing in comparison.

Kent kicked the chair again and Blaine scowled in the man's direction. “What?” he snapped.

“So I went into the kitchen to steal something that would hold me over. I met the chef. It's a funny thing because I could have sworn I saw a picture of her on a magazine. Standing next to you. Leaving a hotel.”

Kent sounded like his mother—a voice of reason. Blaine narrowed his gaze.

“Adam,” Blaine muttered, “you picked the wrong best man. Yours reads gossip mags.”

Adam scoffed. “So I should have picked the one who broke a woman's heart? Did it right before my wedding when she has to cook for everyone?”

Blaine tensed. “What?”

“Apparently, Charlotte had to console her the other day. There were tears. So if my wife glares at you, that's why.”

“Alyssa was crying?” He blinked as his stomach clenched.

“Alyssa?” Kent asked. “So it was her. What were you doing sneaking her out of your hotel? You know how the press is.”

“I wanted to see her,” he threw the words at Kent.

The truth was he had needed to see her. He didn't believe in slow. He had his mother to thank for that impulse. She'd raised him to never do anything worth doing half-measure.

Though she had given him plenty of shit about ending things with Alyssa, but he hadn't wanted to hear a single word. They were done. Alyssa wasn't willing to go all-in. No use in whining over the end of an affair.

It wasn't an affair. Being with her felt like the life you could have had.

Blaine shook off the thoughts, and focused on his friend. “But she was crying?” he asked again.

Adam fixed his boutonniere on his lapel then turned to face him. “Yes. So don't fuck up my wife's day with any bullshit. If the chef walks because one of my friends did something, it's my head that's on the chopping block.”

“God,” Blaine muttered, “you're so whipped.”

“I love her,” Adam corrected him, “and I want this day to be...good. Nothing wrong with that. Maybe if you thought about someone else but yourself we wouldn't be having this conversation right now.”

“And what the hell does that mean?” There was a bite to his tone. Blaine pointed at Kent before the man could move. Maybe he did need a swift kick, but that wasn't important. “What am I not getting?”

Adam waved to Kent as he walked to the other side of the room to put on his shoes. Kent sighed. “You've been playing since grade school. You're used to everything that comes with playing ball. You don't know normal.”

He knew that. It had been his worry from the beginning. Alyssa had confirmed his fears, hadn't she? “And you do?”

“If you ignore the fact I'm close friends with people who play for the NFL, yeah. I can go grocery shopping without being mobbed. If I hold a door for a woman outside a restaurant, no one is taking a picture. There won't be a story about a mysterious woman. No one cares and I like that about my life. And I only got a taste of that insanity in college.”

“And when you had that lunch with me,” Adam added then concentrated on lacing up the black and white wing tips.

“Exactly,” Kent said and straightened on the chair. “The conversation I had to have with my wife was crazy. That was really a one-time thing and it freaked her out. Take a second and imagine what that must have been like for Alyssa. Her private life wasn't private because of the man she chose to be seen with.”

The thought had crossed his mind, but he hadn't let himself stew in it. How could he? His life, no matter how crazy, was normal for him. Sure, he knew the insanity of it could break strong men. He'd seen it over and over again. Too much of a spotlight and a man's ego could bring down an empire. He'd seen women so hungry for the flash of a camera they'd sell their souls. And what he'd liked most about Alyssa was her flippant attitude to his celebrity.