Play Date (Play Makers Book 3) (4 page)

He would undoubtedly wet himself.

It had been hurtful in high school, but by her sophomore year in college, when she finally had her first real boyfriend, she had gained enough confidence in other areas of life to handle it. And because she was analytical by nature, she had eventually collected data on the subject, starting with that very first lover.

They had met during their freshman year at Yale, forming a nice, platonic friendship. Then during their sophomore year he had finally asked her out on a real date.

She had liked him a lot. Not love, but a heady combination of affection and attraction. By the time they went to bed, she had been more than ready and had been so relieved—first that it happened at all, and more important, that he so clearly enjoyed it. And, after a few false starts, so did she.

In fact, she had enjoyed it a
lot
.

And then she had done something even more momentous than giving him her virginity. She had asked why he waited so long to make his move.

He had replied in a matter-of-fact tone, saying, “I figured I couldn’t measure up to the guys you usually date.”

Stunned, she had spluttered,
“What
guys? We’ve been in every class together for eighteen months. Every study group. When did you ever see me with a date?”

He had shrugged and explained. “I figured—we
all
figured—he was someone big. Some power broker who sends his private jet when he wants to see you. Like in a villa. Or chateau.” He had tried to laugh it off, adding, “You’re cool. But it’s like you’re in a different world. No offense.”

She had been totally confused. Especially since he himself had come from wealth. Maybe not a chateau, but certainly a mansion. So it wasn’t about money. Or power. It was something else. Not her clothes, because she dressed exactly like her classmates in jeans and sweatshirts. Not her accent, because San Diego didn’t have a distinctive one—at least to
her
ear—and certainly nothing snobby. She wore her hair loose, didn’t particularly like jewelry, and had a genuine love for the simple beach life.

Yet for some reason, she put out a weird signal. Over the years, she had received variations on the same theme. Either she was perceived as already taken or unapproachably distant. She had even asked Jason Spurling and he had come up with a new one: that she seemed fragile. To which Beth had insisted Rachel was a kindergarten teacher and thus as tough as any NFL cornerback. But Rachel had been touched by his answer, considering it almost a compliment.

Definitely better than mistress to a Mafia hit man.

She had finally accepted that her only avenue for sex, love and marriage was to lure a nice guy with the promise of no touching, then pounce when he least expected it.

Which had pretty much been her plan for Sean Decker until tonight.

As though hearing her complaint he worked his way through the crowd and joined her again. “Hey, honey.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry for the mob scene. People are coming out of the woodwork. It’s unbelievable.”

“Let’s hope everyone brought a gift.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at her cocktail. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

“You drove me to it.”

His emerald eyes twinkled. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” His gaze dropped to her body and swept over it. “Did I mention how beautiful you look? I can’t believe you’re here with me.”

“I barely am,” she murmured.

That got his attention. “Did I do something wrong? Besides neglecting you?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m fine.” She ran her fingertip along his jaw. “Are you having fun?”

“Me? Yeah, it’s great. I just have all these responsibilities. But once we make the toasts, I’ll be off the hook. So pretty soon . . .” He leaned in closer, his breath warm on her earlobe. “We’ll spend some time together. Alone.”

A promising tingle nibbled at her and she gave a hopeful nod. “That sounds like fun. But you’re the best man, so go do your thing. I’ll be fine.”

“If any of these guys tries to hit on you, tell them the Triple Threat will break their kneecaps.”

She wanted to assure him that if any of “these guys” tried to hit on her, she’d alert the media. But instead she just urged him again to “go and be best man.” Then she perched on the atrium wall and waited for the toasts.

• • •

Still marveling at Rachel’s perfection, Sean was working his way back toward the stage when a familiar figure made him scowl. It was Coz, his coach. He hadn’t seen the jerk since the Super Bowl parties and had assumed he wouldn’t show tonight even though Johnny Spurling had practically won the ring for him single-handedly. Coz was known for his selfishness. No camaraderie, and definitely no loyalty. So celebrating his player’s marriage? Not likely.

On the other hand, Coz was a publicity hound. And since the place was teeming with amateur and professional photographers, it made sense he’d be here.

And if
he
is, maybe she is . . .

Sean took a deep breath, then scanned the partygoers for a glimpse of Kerrie. Unlike Rachel, Kerrie was short and would be difficult to spot.

She definitely wasn’t anywhere near her husband. And it was possible they were on the outs, maybe even secretly separated, considering how she had been trolling bars for sex. In which case, Coz wouldn’t have brought her with him in the first place.

He ordered himself to stop obsessing, and probably would have succeeded had he not caught sight of her talking to one of the team wives. She looked amazing. No more red streaks in her curly ash-blonde hair, no more garish nail polish. She was back to her old self in a prim blue dress, sleeveless but with a high neck and hitting her mid-calf.

He didn’t realize he was staring, but apparently she felt it because she glanced over at him, blushed, then inclined her head toward the staging area to the right of the dais. It was separated from the main room by a second set of curtains, these utilitarian instead of satin.

Did she honestly expect him to meet her there? At his best friend’s wedding?

But he was powerless to resist, so with a quick glance toward the stage to make sure no one noticed, her hurried after her.

• • •

“Hey, Deck!” a voice boomed out of nowhere.

Sean turned to his co–best man. “Hey, Bam. I’m kinda in a hurry.”

“Doing what?” the halfback demanded. “It’s a wedding, dude. We’re supposed to be banging bridesmaids.”

“I brought a date,” Sean reminded him, trying to sound noble despite having just ditched that date to chase after a married woman.

“Yeah, I noticed. She’s rockin’ a great ass over there.”

Startled, he turned in time to see Rachel bend to fix the strap on her sexy silver shoe. “Hey, have some respect.”

“Trust me, I respect the hell out of her. How tall is she?”

“Just tall enough,” he told him with a laugh. “Too bad
you
can’t get a date. And meanwhile, Beth’s giving you the evil eye.”

“What?” Bannerman scowled. “She’s been on me since I got here. Freaking ball buster.”

Sean agreed with that assessment, but Beth had set up the blind date with Rachel, so he was willing to cut her some slack.

Meanwhile, he needed to get to Kerrie, so he explained to his uncivilized friend, “Everyone’s worried you’ll screw up the toast. So just stick to the pre-approved script. It’s short and not too obnoxious.” When Bannerman seemed ready to protest, he added sharply, “This is Erica’s big day. So pull it together, will you?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, turning to look at the beautiful dark-haired bride. “I’ll be good for her sake. Come on, let’s go bother her.”

“You go ahead. Tell her a couple of jokes. She’s probably feeling the stress.”

When Bannerman nodded, striding off to entertain the bride, Sean finally managed to reach the far side of the room and dip behind the black curtain. He almost hoped Kerrie had given up, but there she was, and he had no idea what to say to her.

She gave him a shy smile. “I was afraid you’d stand me up.”

He walked over, knowing he shouldn’t get too close but unable to stop. “I’m really sorry about the other night, Kerrie.”

“You thought I was Melody.”

“I
needed
you to be Melody,” he said wistfully. “But I wished it was you.”

“It
was
me.” Her smile brightened. “I think you knew. There’s always been something between us, right?”

He felt his throat tighten. “You’re my coach’s wife. I’d never knowingly—”

“You knew,” she corrected him, curling her arms around his neck. “Admit it, please? Otherwise, it was just some cheap hookup.”

He wanted to pull free but settled for using a sterner tone. “You didn’t know I was in that bar. You came there on your own,
looking
for a cheap hookup. Dressed like Melody.”

She pouted for a few seconds, then nodded. “I wanted to feel pretty. To have men pay attention to me like they do her. Maybe buy me a drink and flirt a little. But not for sex, Sean. I promise.”

She paused, clearly embarrassed, then continued. “I almost didn’t have the nerve to walk inside. Then I realized I didn’t have my purse, so I had to. And then I saw you,” she added breathlessly, touching his lips with her fingertip. “My hero.”

“Geezus, Kerrie.” He wanted to kiss her but knew the toasts would begin soon, and he had to be front and center for that. “We can’t talk this way. I wish we could, but you’re Coz’s wife.”

“He hasn’t touched me in years, Sean.”

“What?”

“It’s true,” she told him, her amber eyes bright with tears. “No one has touched me like you did. Not for so long.
He
plays around, but I never did. Not until then. Not until you.”

“Geezus . . .” He heard a burst of laughter from the ballroom and winced. “I’ve gotta get back, Kerrie. But this is nuts. If you’re not happy, divorce him.”

“I’d do that for you in a heartbeat,” she told him solemnly. “But we can’t rush it. You have to be sure.”

“Huh?” The room seemed to spin. “Not for me, Kerrie. Do it for yourself. Damn, I’ve gotta give a toast. Can you—” He took a deep breath. “We should talk. But not here. And definitely not now.”

“I have your number. I’ll call.” She pulled his head down and kissed him eagerly, and despite the warning bells, he kissed her back just as thoroughly.

• • •

“Unbelievable,” Rachel murmured as she eyed the black curtain that had swallowed her date. The date who had been clearly chasing a pretty blonde.

She had given him some slack, mostly because they enjoyed each other’s company. Their day-long brunch date had been charming. Platonic, but otherwise perfect. And since then, he had called almost every night. Just to chat, but they had connected on that level so well, it had deluded her into believing there was hope beyond friendship.

But
this
was too much. Chasing after another woman when he was supposedly on a date with Rachel? Not to mention his imaginary date with Erica?

Ugh.

It was tempting to just go back to her room and watch TV for the rest of this disastrous night, and if not for the promise of cake, she would already be in the elevator. But the lure of white frosting kept her rooted to the spot.

The three guys she had noticed earlier were still at it, glancing at her from time to time. One in particular had a love-starved gleam in his eye, and she thought back to the first time she had seen that look. So flattering, yet ultimately, so disappointing.

In contrast, it was fundamentally amazing how every male in the vicinity was clearly smitten with Erica McCall Spurling. Of course, Rachel knew for a fact that Sean Decker was, since he had raved about her even on their first date. And that magnetic quality was on full display now as Decker and Bannerman and assorted other men constantly snuck up behind her, trying to lure her away from her new husband, who would give them an imperious look that made them back off at least for a few moments. Then the games would begin anew.

Sighing, Rachel abandoned her half-finished drink and ordered a fresh one. If she could trade places with the vivacious bride, she’d do it in a heartbeat. Not because Erica was so gorgeous, because Rachel was happy with her own appearance. Not because Erica had a great career, because Rachel loved being a teacher. Not even because Erica had an adoring husband, because Rachel still had hopes in that department.

But Erica was a guy magnet, and as silly as it seemed, Rachel craved that experience. Just once. To walk into a bar and be immediately swarmed with attention, rather than to be noticed from afar by guys, sometimes groups of guys, who were intrigued but had no intention of acting on it.

Give it up, Rachel,
she mocked herself as she wandered back to her seat on the low wall, ready to get back into the spirit of things, to enjoy the toasts, and then hopefully reach her only feasible goal for the night and score a huge slice of cake.

• • •

Erica McCall Spurling stepped up onto the dais, gazed at the churning throng of partygoers, and smiled in rueful satisfaction. She had wanted a medium-sized gathering of friends and relatives but had ended up with a mob scene dominated by strangers and vaguely familiar celebrities. She couldn’t hope to meet each of them and knew it would bother her later when she watched the wedding videos and didn’t recognize half the attendees.

But for now, they were having a great time. Wasn’t that what really mattered? She was obnoxiously, supremely happy, and it made sense to share it with as many folks as humanly possible.

“Hey, beautiful.” Johnny wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Sorry about the clusterfuck. I know you wanted it to be perfect.”

“I
love
this clusterfuck, Mr. Spurling. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He grinned down at her. “It’s like someone cloned a thousand Bannermans and set them loose at our wedding. Did you see that idiot in the fountain?”

“It was hilarious. I hope the videographer caught it for posterity.” Her mood grew wistful again. “I feel like we’re neglecting some of the
real
guests, though. Like Carlos and his date. And Helmut. And most of all, Sean’s date. Especially because
he’s
neglecting her too. Did you notice?”