Out of Her League (17 page)

“
Fine.
”
Since he wanted to touch her shoulders where the moon glistened silver on gold, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants and glanced around, at a loss what to say now. What was it about this woman that made his glib words and usual moves seem inappropriate and crude? When he slid a look back at her, she was gone, already at the p
layground equipment that sat be
tween the schools.

“
Hey, wait up!
”
he called.

She
’
d reached the swing set, and plunked herself down on one of the swings. A quick push with her feet and she swayed back and forth. Joe watched her for
a few minutes, then trudged across the grass.

“
You suddenly felt like swinging?
”
he asked when he got to her.

She smiled.
“
I suddenly felt like sitting. This is the only place, unless you wouldn
’
t mind me sitting on the hood of your car.
”

Joe winced, and she snorted.

“
That
’
s what I thought. So let
’
s talk. Have a
seat.
”

“
On that?
”
He glanced suspiciously at the modest strap of canvas hooked between two chains.
“
I don
’
t think so.
”

“
Suit yourself.
”
She pushed off again, and the swing swung higher.
“
Talk.
”

What had he planned to talk about? Oh, yeah—the bet he
’
d just been snookered into making.

“
Why do you want the varsity coaching job so bad?
”

She
’
d been leaning back in the swing, staring at the stars. At his question her head jerked upright and her eyes narrowed.
“
None of your business.
”

She looked embarrassed, and Joe wondered for a minute if she had money trouble. But what good would a coaching job next year do her if she needed money now? Beside
s, according to the local grape
vine, her husband had died in an accident, which meant insurance money of some sort, not to mention her full-time job.

No, the reason had to be her competitive nature. Since Joe was competitive, too, he understood, and although he had sworn off competitive women, he had to say this one intrigued him. Arguing with her made him feel more alive than he
’
d felt since leav
ing the playing field.

But while he was attracted to her, she seemed to despise him, and he was curious why.

Joe had never been one to beat around the bush, so he asked,
“
What have you got against me?
”

“
Me?
”
She appeared genuinely surprised at the question.
“
Nothing.
”

She continued to swing. Joe was becoming nauseated, so he stepped forward, caught the chains and stopped the swing mid-flight.

“
Hey, what
’
re you doing?
”
She jumped off, bumping her chin against his chest. The sharp intake of her breath echoed in the stillness. The way she held herself, with an aura of awareness that almost hummed from her body to his, made Joe think that perhaps she didn
’
t despise him so much, after all.

He should step back, he knew, far enough so he could see her face but not so far that she could run off again.

Yeah, he should. But for some reason he couldn
’
t move. The warmth of her body, even in the heat of the summer night, called to a chill within him—a chill that had been there for
a very long time.

She smelled so good—he
’
d noticed that about her the very first day. But on that day she
’
d smelled of Ivory soap; tonight she smelled like wild-cherry pie. The full moon shone on her hair like a spotlight, making the dark cap glimmer. If he wanted, he could lower his cheek and rub his mouth along the top of her head, feel the softness of her hair against his lips. If he wanted... Wha
t was he thinking, if he wanted?
He wanted—bad.

When had his hands come up to cup her moon-kissed shoulders? Didn
’
t matter. His hands were there, caressing her arms, learning the contours of her skin with his palms.

“
Joe?
”
she whispered, and her breath blew along the exposed flesh at the open collar of his shirt. His body hardened and his hands tightened. He
stepped back that single step, and when she raised her mouth, no doubt to tell him to go straight to blazes—he kissed her, right there in the playground.

They
say
in
the
seconds before you die, your en
tire life flashes before you. Evie didn
’
t know about that, and hoped she would not find out soon, but she did discover that when you
’
re sexually deprived, every fantasy you
’
v
e ever had about a certain an
noying, intriguing man flashes through your mind the first time he kisses you.

She
’
d lost her train of thought when his big hands touched her bare shoulders. Those hands skimmed her arms, as if he wanted to memorize the texture of her skin with his palms. His mouth tasted hers, softly at first, with a gentleness to those firm lips that made her heart
stutter and dip. There was some
thing about a rough, gruff, gentle man that did wicked things to a woman
’
s insides.

If she didn
’
t hold on, she
’
d fall. If she didn
’
t touch him, she
’
d go mad. So she slipped her hands around his waist, her fingers encountering rock-hard muscle wherever they brushed. His shirt had a silky sheen and rubbed between her fingers and his flesh with a sexy slide.

He moaned against her mouth, and his hands went from gentle on her arms to demanding upon her back. Pulling her closer, he deepened the kiss, his tongue lining the seam of her mouth, sending a sharp trill of dangerous desire down her spine.

Her lips opened. His questing tongue slid along
her teeth, met, mated and retreated from her own. He enticed her into his mouth, where they played an arousing game of hide-and-seek.

The man knew what to do with that mouth of his. She could not recall ever being so e
xcited by a sin
gle kiss. He had not moved his hands from her back, though his clever fingers soothed the knots from her shoulders in such a skillful, enticing way that she moaned with pleasure from that, as well as from the heat of his lips and the glide of his tongue.

Wherever this
desperate need and yearning hun
ger had come from, it was too strong to deny. It had been so long since she
’
d felt anything beyond duty and responsibility and pressure to be the best mommy in town.

Evie stiffened.
Mommy
. What was she thinking? What was she doing?

She tore her mou
th from his, and he took the op
portunity to nibble her jaw, then nuzzle her neck. She nearly melted right back against his lips.

“
Stop,
”
she mu
ttered. Her voice sounded uncon
vincing, even to her ears, but he pulled back.

Then he lifted his head and his icy eyes stared into hers.
“
Stop?
”
His voice, hoarse and sexy, made her insides twist. The man sounded as if he
’
d just spent three days in bed—without sleeping one of them.
“
Why?
”

Evie pushed against his shoulders. He let her go, and she slipped out of his reach. The sultry night turned cold.

She glanced around furtively and breathed a sigh
of relief to find they were still alone. She could just imagine what would happen if news of this got around.

Evie winced as a sportscaster
’
s voice filled her mind:
Big League manager caught playing footsie with Iceman Scalott
a on playground just minutes af
ter challenging Iceman to a duel of teams. Will the decision be ma
de on the diamond or in the bed
room?

“
Evie?
”
Joe
’
s voice was no longer hoarse and sexy, but confused and annoyed.

She looked back at him. He stood on one side of the swing, leaving her on the other. His mouth still shone wet and his shirt tangled half in and half out of his pants. He was so appealing that she wanted to shove the swing aside and haul his mouth back on hers.

Where would that lead?

The shiver that passed over Evie made the hair on her arms stand up.
Her breasts tightened; her nip
ples hardened, rubbing against the cotton sundress in a movement that was both pain and pleasure, yet unbelievably arousing.

Joe took a step forward, and Evie put out a hand, palm facing him.
“
No. You stay over there.
”

“
Why?
”

“
Just do it, hotshot. I can
’
t think when you hover over me.
”

That made him smile in a satisfied, male way, which made Evie want to smack him. But to smack
him she
’
d have to
touch him, and right now touch
ing would be a very bad idea.

“
I
’
m going home,
”
she said.

“
I
’
ll drive you.
”

“
No!
”

She wanted nothing less than to be caught in a small, enclosed space with Scalotta. That would also be very bad.

“
I swear I
’
ll drive slow and easy.
”

“
I don
’
t care if you drive slower than a tricycle. I
’
m not going anywhere with you tonight.
”

“
I suppose you want me to apologize for kissing you. I won
’
t do that.
”

“
And why not?
”

“
Because I
’
m not sorry. I want to do it again. Right now.
”

He yanked the swing to the side, but before he could step toward her, she ran.

She wasn
’
t proud of it, but she had little choice. She
’
d just learned something. There were things much more dangerous than stray cats out and about in Oak Grove at night.

* * *

Joe
thought
about
the
bet
and the kiss all the way home. Mostly the kiss. He hadn
’
t kissed, or been kissed, that thoroughly for
a very long time.

Though Evie was petite, she was not frail. She might only come up to his chest, but the muscles he
’
d traced with his fingertips had been firm, real, worked for on a field and not at a health club.

The breasts that had tickled his chest were real, too. Joe snorted. As though Evie would have had a boob job. She
’
d bloody his nose for the thought alone. And he
’
d deserve it.

To be honest, she always seemed taller—with her confidence, her opinions, and that mouth that told him where to go and gave him directions how to get there. But when he
’
d had her in his arms, he
’
d felt how tiny she was, and he
’
d wanted to hold her close and protect her from all the big, bad bogeymen of the world.

She
’
d laugh in his face if he told her that. If there was a woman on earth who did not need him to take care of her, that woman was Evie Vaughn.