Authors: Liz Matis
Playing For Keeps (7 page)
Would Ryan use the keycard? Could she blame him if he did? After al , he was a sought out bachelor, free to do as he pleased, and she’d blown him off. Again.
Why would he even waste his time chasing after her when he had al these women literal y throwing themselves at him? It didn’t make sense.
Maybe he saw her as a chal enge. Why didn’t that make her feel any better? Why did she even care? Let him sleep with the blonde. It was none of her business.
Samantha’s heart raced as Ryan took the key out of his back pocket and pressed it into the palm of the woman’s hand. She strained to hear what he was saying, but couldn’t catch a word. It was obvious the blonde didn’t like what she heard and marched away in a huff. Samantha let out a breath that she wasn’t aware she’d been holding. She final y admitted to herself that she did care. She wanted it to be her business. And yes, she was jealous. Damn him.
She signed for her room and as she turned toward the bank of elevators, Ryan slid up next to her.
“So, what’s the story with you and Bradley?”
“Jealous?” she mocked.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
Caught off guard, she didn’t know how to respond. Was he kidding?
“I mean real y, Samantha, why him? Especial y when you could have me.”
Yup, he was kidding and ful of himself. “I don’t want to go where so many have been before.”
He signed for his room and grabbed his keycard. They walked to the elevator together. “Those women were practice leading up to you.” Ryan pressed the button and the doors slid open. “You’re like the Super Bowl.”
“I’m touched.”
He slipped in and held the door open. His voice lowered. “Think what I could do if you let my hands touch you.”
What couldn’t he do was more like it. She directed her gaze to his hand that held the door. Those hands could cradle the bal with such subtle grace that made her breasts ache in need. He caught impossible passes, using his long, slender fingers to coax the bal to do his bidding, like he would coax her to a climax. And Ryan never fumbled the bal . Not once. Samantha was sure he never fumbled in the bedroom either.
“Coming?” he asked suggestively.
Samantha’s eyes went back to his and she swal owed her lustful thoughts. “I’l take the stairs.”
Ryan shook his head in disappointment and dropped his hand. “Chicken.”
The doors slid shut.
***
“Hey, darling.” He put his hand on the door-jam to prevent the doors from closing. His other hand held a Gatorade. Cherry or fruit punch, she couldn’t tel .
Okay, how long could the ride down possibly last? Thirty seconds? She could be alone with Ryan for thirty seconds. Couldn’t she? What could happen? Samantha stepped into the elevator, brushing up against Ryan as she passed him. “Hey, yourself.”
She went to press the button for the lobby, but it was already lit.
“Got it covered,” Ryan said. He released his hand from the door. “Where you off to?”
The doors slid shut, sealing her fate.
One, two, three
, she mental y counted. “Dinner.”
Four, five…
“Do you want to-”
The elevator came to a jolting halt and the lights sputtered out, but just as quickly the emergency light flicked on. They were stuck between the seventh and eighth floors.
“-join me for dinner?” he finished slowly.
She looked up into his forest green eyes that reminded her of the Columbian jungles – she had gotten lost there too. The phrase ‘seventh heaven’
popped into her mind and she lunged for the emergency phone, snatching it from its cradle. Dead. She slammed it down. She swal owed the breath she’d been holding and then let out a stuttering sigh.
Ryan reached for her hand. “Hey, don’t freak out on me, it’s going to be okay.”
She yanked her hand away. “Did you plan this?”
“Whoa, Samantha, you give me way to much credit. Besides, do you real y think I would risk our lives for some alone time with you?”
“Wel , no… with al the pranks you and your buddies pul …wel it’s the first thing that came to my mind.” She calmed herself with a slow breath.
“What happened?”
“Could be broken, or maybe a blackout.” Frustrated, he ran his hand through what little hair he had. “Hel , I don’t know.”
Samantha pul ed out her cel phone and flipped it open. “No service.”
“Me too.” Ryan shoved his phone into the front pocket of his tight black jeans.
She wanted very much to be that cel phone and put herself on vibrate. The elevator lights flashed back on, but the car didn’t budge. The phone rang and Ryan quickly picked it up before Samantha could. She heard him ask how long and heard him say a lot of okays, and I sees. He mentioned her name and then his. He hung up, his brow furrowed with concern.
“Wel ?”
“There was a power outage. The elevators are stil down, but the repair company is on the way. It could be an hour. Or more.”
“That’s it?”
He pointed to the phone. “They apologize for any inconvenience.”
Being trapped in a six-foot by six-foot space with Ryan wasn’t an inconvenience. It was a temptation of biblical proportions. This was how Adam and Eve got into trouble. Ryan was Adam and the apple al rol ed into one hot apple pie package. The thought of spraying a can of whip cream over his body had Samantha sliding to the floor in defeat.
How was she ever going to get through the next hour – or more? She needed a distraction. She rummaged through her purse for the deck of cards she always carried. She could get a game going anywhere. A snowed in flight in Denver resulted in an al night Gin Rummy playoff, and another al nighter in Poker at the Al Rashid in Baghdad. More importantly, her skil broke the ice with foreigners, which sometimes led to news tips.
Mostly, though, she played Solitaire. She pul ed the cards from the case and deftly shuffled, doing a few tricks to show off.
Ryan slid down beside her. “Impressive.”
Picturing him playing a round of her favorite childhood game brought a smile to her face. She wondered if he would play. “Have you ever played Go Fish?”
“Not since the third grade. How about a friendly game of Strip Poker?” He winked and then his mouth curved into a sinful smile.
“Dream on.”
He held up the Gatorade and wiggled his eyebrows like Groucho Marx. “Spin the Bottle?”
“Men,” she grumbled.
“Or how about a game of Old Maid?”
Samantha gave him a sharp look and saw the amusement in his expression. “That was uncal ed for.”
“I could change your status.”
“What, from Old Maid to Ryan’s Flavor of the Month? No thanks.”
“What if I want more?”
“There’s no bluffing in Go Fish.” Samantha shuffled the deck one more time and dealt them seven cards each. As they played she wondered what his game real y was. Did he think she would believe a line like that and fal into his arms? His quickie affairs were legendary and while she was no expert on long-term relationships, hers lasted more than one night.
Besides, he’d dated super-models and actresses, how could she compete with that? She couldn’t. Samantha didn’t even know why she was having this conversation with herself. She was a sportswriter and he was an athlete who played on the team she covered. She mental y beat the phrase ‘conflict of interest’ into her mind.
An hour later she had won seven out of ten. “You wouldn’t have a stitch of clothing on if we had played Strip Poker,” she teased.
“If we were playing that, you can bet I’d be the one up six to ten. I have more to gain. It’s not like you haven’t already seen me without my clothes on.”
“It’s seven to ten. And I haven’t seen you completely…wel …you know.”
“You’re kil ing me, Samantha. You real y are.”
“What?” she asked innocently.
“Come on, you haven’t looked at al ?”
She shrugged.
“Come on, fess up. You’ve peeked,” he lightly accused.
“Wel …peeked is not the right word.” A smug satisfied smile appeared on his face. She rushed to explain. “What I mean is, you guys are walking around not even trying to cover up. What’s a girl to do?” She saw the skeptical look in his eyes. She started to panic. What if he told his teammates? What if he told one of the reporters?
“And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” He flicked one of the cards on his chin in a contemplated state. “There is one thing I don’t get.”
Samantha knew she was going to regret this, but asked, “What’s that?”
“You’ve seen my…let’s cal it my ‘package’ and you stil won’t go out with me? That hurts, Samantha. My ego may never recover.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your package.” Geez, men were so sensitive when it came to that.
“I know.” He pointed a card at her. “It’s too big, isn’t it?” His wicked smile appeared again.
Samantha threw a card at him. “It is not too big.”
“Ouch, too smal ?”
“Geez, Ryan it’s not like I had a good look at it.”
“Want to have a good look at it?”
The image of her doing that and more flashed through her mind. Look, touch, caress, and…what was he doing to her? “This conversation is ridiculous!”
“Funny, I found it quite…stimulating”
She swept up the cards and tried to stuff them back in the case. When the cards wouldn’t cooperate she threw them into her purse as she struggled to stand. Ryan fol owed her lead and helped her up. His presence fil ed the elevator. She took a deep cleansing breath but al she succeeding in doing was to catch his scent. As if he wasn’t potent enough he had to go and splash some woodsy cologne on. There was no escaping him. She began to pace the floor, which only consisted of four steps forward, turn, and repeat.
“Stop it, wil you?”
“I can’t stand here and do nothing. I’m hungry and bored.”
Ryan stuck his arm out, placing his hand on the elevator wal , halting her progress, and then as she turned his other arm shot out to do the same.
“Then let me entertain you.”
His lips descended on hers. The smal space of the elevator col apsed around her as her breathing became hampered by the onslaught of his kiss. Her legs went weak. As if he knew, his hand left the wal and came to rest on the curve of her hip, bringing her roughly to him. His other hand found its way into the waves of her hair. His tongue began to play along her lips until she whimpered. Did that desperate sound come from her?
He held himself a breath away and murmured against her trembling, swol en lips, “I bet I’m hungrier than you.” Once again, his mouth claimed hers, proving him right.
He didn’t just taste her – he fed on her as she savored the flavor of cherry Gatorade. His kiss fil ed her right down to her soul until the hunger began to consume her and she started to feed on him. Her hands roamed to his shoulders. So strong and solid and the opposite of what she was feeling. What would it be like to cling to his shoulders while she climaxed? A moan escaped her throat at the erotic thought.
She deserved this. She needed this. And she was taking it.
His hand left her hip and drifted up in a caress to close around the swel of her aching breast. She felt the floor fal away…no, the floor
was
fal ing away. The elevator had begun its descent to the main lobby. How many people were down there waiting for them? She pictured the whole footbal team and her col eagues standing in the lobby. The team would whoop it up and her col eagues would have a story for the gossip pages. She’d be ridiculed and possibly lose her job. She tore her lips away.
“Ryan, we’re going down.”
“You’re going down?” he asked with a dazed smile.
She pounded on his chest. “No, you idiot!”
***
Ryan tried to steady his breath as he watched Samantha straighten her clothing, effectively removing any trace of their kiss. She tugged on her shirt, which only accentuated her breasts. Never mind trying to steady his breath, he’d be happy if he could just breathe. She smoothed back her hair and his fingers itched to dive back into the long golden tresses. Samantha would try to pretend they never kissed, but he damn wel was never going to let her forget it, not when he would be replaying it in his head over and over. He was sure he would lose sleep over it.
Ryan thought maybe one kiss would do it for him, prove that she was just another girl, prove that it was only the chase that appealed to him, but it only affirmed he wanted her more than ever, more than any other woman before her. She gave him a shy smile. Then he realized he proved something much more important. She wanted him too.
“Nothing happened, right?” Samantha pleaded. The elevator doors slid open.
“On the contrary, everything happened,” he said, slipping into the lobby. “I saw your ful hand.”
Ryan glanced over at his teammates mil ing around the lobby waiting to torment him. He didn’t care if he was the focus of their jibes, as long as he took the heat off Samantha.
“Terel , how was she?” asked Burner.
He wanted to tel the rookie it was none of his business. No, he real y wanted to pounce on him, but he ignored him instead.
“You lucky son of a bitch!” said Todd.
Ignoring a rookie was one thing, but disregarding the quarterback would be a bad move. “Lucky? You try getting stuck in an elevator with a nosy reporter and see how you like it,” he countered.
“I’m sure you found
something
to shut her up with,” said Burner.
Before Ryan could react, Samantha ventured out of the elevator into the fray.
“Come on guys, you know he’s the one who never shuts up.”
Once again looking like the cool unbiased professional, Ryan wished her hair was stil disheveled and her lips plump and ripe from his kiss. She scanned the lobby, her gaze stopped at his. A light smile lit her face, and then quickly faded as her gaze darted away.
