The All-Star Antes Up (Wager of Hearts #2) (31 page)

“Um, well, no.” Miranda smiled apologetically. “I wasn’t really a football fan. Until now.”

A clamor of approaching voices came from outside the door. It swung open and Luke walked in, his helmet dangling from his hand. He slammed the door closed on the crowd following him. Turning, he raked his fingers through his hair and scanned around the room, his gaze coming to rest on Miranda.

She opened her mouth and realized she had no idea what to say.

“I didn’t expect you to come here,” Luke said, shifting his helmet to the other hand.

“Dennis drove me,” Miranda said, gesturing to her brother and his family, who were standing beside the couch. She waved her other hand toward the PR rep. “And Heather got us in.” She couldn’t tell if he was glad she’d shown up at the stadium. “What you did was pretty dramatic . . . I mean, saying all of that on national TV. So we thought I should be here.”

“I wanted everyone to know you’re mine,” Luke said, still not moving toward her. “No more sneaking around.”

Miranda heard Patty let out a long sigh. “Let’s give them some privacy,” Heather said. Miranda threw her a look of gratitude as Heather shepherded Dennis, Patty, and Theo toward the door. Patty turned and gave Miranda a wink before she stepped out into the hall. The reporters shouted questions, but Miranda could hear Heather turning them aside before the closing door muted the noise.

She couldn’t stop staring at Luke as he stood there, his uniform smudged with dirt, his hair dark with sweat, his blue eyes striking above the black greasepaint smeared on his cheeks. He looked like a world-famous, larger-than-life quarterback, not like the Luke Archer who had milked her family’s cows. But he was both those people, and she needed to embrace one along with the other if she was going to love him.

She hurried into speech again. “I know it’s football season, so I promise not to get in the way of your practicing and watching film.”

That seemed to unfreeze him. He tossed the helmet onto a chair and crossed the room in three strides to wrap his arms around her. “Damn all these pads,” he said, easing his grip so she wasn’t mashed against the hard edges. He smelled of exertion and energy, a potent combination. “I want you in the way. All the time. To keep me balanced. To believe that I can be more. To open up my world.”

Miranda cradled his face between her hands, falling into the depths of his eyes. He laid a finger over her lips.

“Don’t say anything yet,” Luke said. “I want to fall asleep with you in my arms and wake up with you in my arms. I want to find out what makes you laugh and hope I can keep you from crying. But if you do, I want your tears to be on my shoulder.”

“You’re about to make me cry right now,” Miranda said in a husky voice.

His eyebrows drew downward in a frown. “I made you cry on Tuesday, didn’t I? You had the courage to tell me how you felt, and I lied because I was afraid.”

She was stunned. “Of what?”

“I thought my feelings for you were distracting me. I didn’t understand that it was my denial that was destroying my focus. When I finally had the guts to admit that I loved you, everything turned clear again.” He dropped his arms and stepped away from her. “I know what you give me, but all I can offer you is this.” He swept his hand downward in front of his body. “Myself. Not a very good trade.”

Miranda closed the distance between them, resting her hands on his chest pads as she looked up at him, smiling. “What else can we ever give the person we love?” She crumpled fistfuls of his football jersey in her hands and tried to give him a shake. Of course, she couldn’t budge him. “You’re everything I want.”

He searched her face for a long moment, his eyes opaque and unreadable. Whatever he saw there made him crush her against him so hard she could barely breathe. Then he stole what was left of her breath with a searing kiss. When her legs threatened to collapse under her, he raised his head. “You know all those things I said you should do with another man? I realized I’d kill him if I caught you two doing any of them together.”

“You mean like talking art and ballet at a restaurant without reporters?” It was hard to remember his words when he turned her veins into rivers of fire.

He ran his mouth along her jawline, sending shivers of desire down her neck. “I’ll rent out the entire restaurant so we can talk without being bothered.”

“I’d rather stay home and eat quesadillas,” she said, yanking the hem of his jersey and his undershirt up to get her hands under them. “In your gym.” She had to shove her fingers up under the chest plate of his shoulder pads to feel the sweat-slicked heat of his skin.

He thrust his hands inside the back of her jeans and under her panties to knead her bottom in his powerful grip. “We can’t do this now,” he growled, his hands contradicting his words as he slid one finger forward to press into the wet heat between her legs.

“I know,” she said, her head falling back as he worked his finger in and out of her, sending spirals of arousal into her belly. She scrabbled at his pads, but the straps and buckles were too intricate to succumb to her divided concentration.

“Come for me, sugar, so I know you forgive me,” he murmured in her ear, as he slipped another finger inside her.

She ran her hand down the center of his tight pants, only to find a hard plastic shell where his erection should be. He groaned as she tried to shift it. “Sweetheart, that protector is built to withstand being sacked by a three-hundred-pound lineman. You’re not going to be able to move it.” He increased the rhythm of his strokes inside her. “This is all about you, as part of my apology.”

She wedged her hands back up under his pads to hold herself steady. He pushed his thigh between hers so that the movements of his hand had her riding the combination of muscle and pad. Tension wound tighter and tighter within her as the friction fanned her arousal to a blistering heat. When he took her earlobe in his mouth and sucked gently at the small gold hoop she wore in it, the pull of his mouth echoed the pressure of his fingers, shooting exquisitely intense pleasure into her center from above and below. Her muscles clenched explosively around his fingers, and she arched into his body, feeling the bite of the pads and reveling in the edge of discomfort that contrasted with the release of her orgasm. Some fragment of sanity made her swallow the cry of satisfaction she nearly let loose.

“That’s it, darlin’, let it take you,” Luke said beside her ear. He twisted his fingers and sent another wave of hot, melting sensation ripping through her. She nearly choked on the shriek that tried to escape her throat.

“No more,” she panted as her muscles clenched and eased again . . . and again, wringing every ounce of pleasure from her highly sensitized nerve endings.

“Until tonight,” Luke said, easing his fingers out of her and gently extracting his hand from her jeans. He brought his fingers to his nostrils and inhaled before he sucked the taste of her off them. “God, that makes me want you even more.”

She sagged against him as the glow of satiation leached the ability to stand out of every muscle in her body. His arms went around her, and she felt the weight of his chin on top of her head. “Sweetheart, I came so close to letting you go. Miller was right. I’m an idiot.”

The writer’s name penetrated the fog of postorgasm relaxation she was drifting in. “He told me to exploit your vulnerability.”

Luke’s laughter rumbled against her cheek. “I’ll be damned. The cynical writer played matchmaker.”

“He kept mentioning some bet. What was he talking about?”

She felt a tiny shock of tension stiffen his body. “Three drunk guys made a wager on something that should never be gambled on.”

“What?”

He hesitated. “Love.”

That made her angle her head back so she could see his face. “Are you serious? You don’t date during the football season.”

“That rule has changed,” he reminded her. He led her over to the sofa, dropping onto it and pulling her down beside him. “It was a bad night. My best friend had just retired from football. I knew my time was coming, and I wasn’t feeling good about that. Miller got us drunk and we started in on the problem of finding a woman who loves you for yourself and not because you’re famous or rich.”

“Who’s the third?”

“Nathan Trainor of Trainor Electronics.” Luke looked away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “We all bet that we would be engaged by the end of a year. I figured I would wait until after the end of the season and then get to work on the project. Because I’m an arrogant jerk.”

She thought about how dark his mood must have been to agree to such a wager, and her heart pinched.

“I want you to know that the bet had nothing to do with today.” His voice carried an undercurrent of concern. “Well, maybe it did. It made me think about how limited my life was, so I decided to go on that tour with you. But I’m not here to win the bet.”

“Considering how hard you tried to get rid of me, I’m not all that worried. Although you
are
pretty competitive.” She smiled up at him to show she wasn’t serious.

He didn’t return her smile. “I almost asked you to wait for me until the end of the season, but it didn’t seem fair to you. I couldn’t guarantee that things would work out between us. I told myself if you found someone else, then we weren’t meant to be.” His eyes went dark. “But I’ve never been good at sitting back and letting someone else decide my fate.”

She touched his cheek. “I would have waited. Gladly.”

“That still wouldn’t have made it right to ask you.” His grip tightened. “You had the courage to tell me how you felt. I needed to make the same commitment.”

“I guess we owe Gavin a thank-you,” she said. “Although I wanted to strangle him after you walked away.”

“He gets that reaction from a lot of people.” Luke’s tone was wry.

“So, how do you prove you’ve won the wager?”

He hesitated a moment before shaking his head. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Can you tell me what the stakes are?”

“When my win is official, I’ll let you in on all the details. Before that would be cheating.” He looked down at her with a smile as tender as it was hot. “If you really want something, you have to earn it fair and square.”

She wanted to melt into him. “You athletes just love your clichés, don’t you?”

“They’re clichés because they’re true.” His dimple faded. “When you think about it,
I love you
is probably the world’s most overused phrase. But when your heart is in it, those words take on whole shades of meaning you never imagined before.” He leaned in to touch her lips with his. “I love you, Miranda.”

She smiled against his mouth. “That’s one cliché I’ll never get tired of hearing.”

The kiss went long and intense before he pulled away. “Now you’ll get your first taste of what a pain it is to be my girlfriend.”

She thought of Orin. “I already have.” She looked him right in the eyes. “I need an honest answer from you about something. Do you know the Anglethorpes at the Pinnacle?”

“Never met them,” he said, his expression unchanged. “Why?”

“They got me my job back. And I think they got Orin fired.”

“Then I like them.” He kissed her again. “Okay, sugar, it’s time to meet the press. Just to prepare you, there are probably at least a dozen reporters camped outside that door.”

“You mean, while we . . . while I . . .” She dropped her head into her hands as heat flared up her cheeks. “They’re going to know. I mean, I must look like I’ve just, er—” She glanced back up at him pleadingly.

“Found out that I love you?” His dimple deepened. “Only I know exactly how I convinced you it was true.”

Little imps of light were dancing in his eyes, and Miranda choked on a half laugh, half groan.

He tugged her to her feet and wrapped his arm around her waist like a protective barrier. “Just stare up at me adoringly and they’ll leave you alone.”

“I know you’re joking, but I can do that without even trying,” she said, her throat suddenly tight.

As their eyes met, his grew hot. “Don’t look like that now or you’ll end up naked on the sofa.”

“That’s not the best way to stop me.”

A strangled sound came from his throat before he tucked her against him and marched her to the door. Wrapping his hand around the knob, he looked down at her, his face serious. “You don’t have to do this. I can deal with them alone.”

“No way, cowboy. I’m never leaving your side again.”

As the unlatched door swung open, the explosion of camera flashes barely registered with Miranda because she was locked in a soul-deep kiss with a living legend.

Epilogue

Miranda was still shivering slightly from the frigid air of the February night as she and Luke walked, fingers intertwined, into Frankie Hogan’s office at the Bellwether Club. Although she’d been to the club before and met Frankie, Miranda had never been in this room. She was startled by the bright, sleek, glass-and-chrome modernity of the room when the rest of the club was all dark paneling, leather upholstery, and Oriental carpets.

The club’s founder rose from behind her desk, her smooth silver hair contrasting with her dark red pantsuit. “Welcome to my lair,” she said in her raspy voice with its undertone of Irish. “Congratulations to both of you on winning your part of the wager.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Luke said, his drawl pronounced.

Miranda had learned that his accent deepened when he was either trying to disarm someone or when he was more emotional than he wanted to let on. She slanted a glance up at his sculpted face, trying to gauge which it was. He caught her looking and gave her a wink. It still amazed her that this extraordinary man had chosen her. Now she could touch those beautiful cheekbones and that golden hair and all those gorgeous muscles anytime she wanted to. She winked back and squeezed his hand, just to feel the strength of his fingers.

“Well, then, let’s see the ring,” Frankie said.

Luke lifted their joined hands, turning them so that her engagement ring with its large marquise diamond and its frame of smaller blue and white diamonds scintillated in the light. She loved the shape of the central diamond because it reminded her of a football. Luke claimed it hadn’t crossed his mind when he chose it, but she didn’t believe him for a second.

“Wait a minute,” Frankie said, moving closer and narrowing her eyes. “Is that another ring underneath it?”

Luke’s dimple showed, but he didn’t answer.

“You son of a gun, Archer. I like your style.” Frankie turned to a large cupboard and typed a code into a keypad. The door clicked open and she pushed it farther ajar to reveal an industrial-looking safe. “A different sort of congratulations is in order, as well. I watched you win your fifth Super Bowl. That’s damned impressive, even for a member of the Bellwether Club.”

“I didn’t win it alone. It takes the whole team.”

“Spoken like a champion.” Frankie chuckled as she swung open the massive door and pulled out a leather portfolio. “However, the whole team doesn’t wear a target on their chests.”

Miranda silently agreed as she thought of the many times Luke’s body looked like a painting of pain with its multicolored bruises. That was the hardest part for her, knowing how battered he was as he jogged onto the field to be slammed into all over again. After the Super Bowl victory, he’d gone out to celebrate with his teammates and then come home to crawl into bed, where she’d covered him with a blanket of cold packs. No one except she and his trainer Stan knew how much he had to endure to win game after game. He said that being able to admit to her how much he was hurting eased the pain. She hoped it was true.

“Here’s your stake.” Frankie held up a cream vellum envelope with Luke’s name slashed across it. She flipped it to show him the back. “Still sealed.” She picked up a pen. “As I did with Trainor’s, I will mark this ‘wager satisfied’ and initial it.” She did so with a flourish before sliding it back into the portfolio. “One forfeit is left, and judging by his mood, I don’t see Miller getting any closer to canceling it.”

“He has time,” Luke said, but Miranda knew he worried about his friend, who still couldn’t write, much less open his heart to a woman. They owed Gavin Miller a debt of gratitude, and Luke felt that keenly.

“Not everyone moves as fast as you do.” Frankie’s gaze touched Miranda’s beringed hand again. “I wish you both joy.”

“Much obliged.” Luke shook Frankie’s hand. His new Super Bowl ring gleamed large on his finger.

Miranda gave in to an impulse and hugged the club’s owner. Frankie hesitated a moment but gave her a quick squeeze in return.

“Your fellow gamblers are waiting in the bar where this all started,” Frankie said, shooing them out of her office.

Luke walked sedately beside Miranda down the hallway until they passed an open door. Before she knew what was happening, he had pulled her inside the room and bent down to give her a long, hard kiss.

“What brought that on?” she asked when he gave her a chance to catch her breath.

He framed her face in his big hands, his expression solemn. “The envelope reminded me of where I was five months ago and where I am now, and what a difference there is between those places. The night I made that bet, the future looked so grim I was willing to do anything to change it. Now I look forward to all the years I get to spend with you.”

She blinked hard to keep her tears away from her mascara.

“That’s the power loving you has given me.” He shifted his grip to her shoulders. “When I think of how close I came to letting you go . . .” She felt his hands tighten. “That will never happen again.”

“I wasn’t giving up, either. Gavin wouldn’t let me.” She put her hand over his heart, savoring the strong beat under the fine cashmere of his navy blazer. “Speaking of Gavin, we’d better get upstairs.”

He let his palms glide down over her back to cup her behind through the silk chiffon of her cocktail dress. A shimmer of arousal ran through her, awakening an answering heat in his eyes. “I was thinking of letting them wait,” he said. “I can wedge a chair under the door handle, and this couch looks pretty comfortable.” He tugged her zipper down and flicked open the hooks of her bra.

She twisted in his arms, trying to grab his wrists, but he was too strong and quick. “When those announcers talk about what good hands you have, they don’t know the half of it. You have to stop.”

He caught her hands behind her and pushed the bodice of her chiffon cocktail dress down to her waist. Then he bent to suck one nipple into his mouth.

He flicked her with his tongue, and she gasped and shuddered as heat spread through her to focus between her thighs. “Luke! Stop!”

He lifted his head and gave her a wicked grin. “I just wanted a taste.”

He loved to do this, get her flushed and disheveled and wanting. He said he needed her to think about him as much as he thought about her. He still didn’t believe that he was never out of her mind or her heart.

“How did you get this undone?” she asked, struggling to get her bra fastened again.

“Allow me.” He had her hooked and zipped in two seconds flat.

Miranda sighed and checked her appearance in the ornamental mirror hanging over the small fireplace. A swipe of lipstick and she looked respectable in her floating black dress with its dusting of beading. The diamond earrings Luke had given her for Christmas flashed on her earlobes.

He came up behind her and put his arms around her waist and his chin on her shoulder so his gilded hair glowed beside her dark waves. She let her gaze rove over the perfect planes of his face: the slashing cheekbones, the hard line of his jaw, the arch of his eyebrows, and the pale, blazing blue of his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

She burst out laughing. “You’re much prettier than I am.”

He straightened and patted her on the butt. “You’re going to give me a complex.”

She took his hand and headed toward the door. She loved the way he moved beside her, the thigh muscles under his perfectly fitted gray trousers turning his stride into a visual feast.

“I still can’t believe you bet
all
of your Super Bowl rings on finding the right woman,” she said in a low voice. He’d told her on the way to the Bellwether Club what his wager had been.

“I felt like I wouldn’t want any reminders of football once I retired.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of hers. “I wasn’t in a good place.”

She hadn’t understood until tonight just how dark his mood had been when he’d made the wager. Now she felt both the giddy delight and the weighty responsibility of being the one who had snapped him out of it.

They climbed the carpeted stairs and walked into the famous bar where the three gamblers had first met. Gavin beckoned to them from a table set by one of the tall windows. He was dressed in an open-necked black shirt, black blazer, and dark gray trousers. Miranda feared that the color of his clothes reflected his emotional state.

“And here we are,” Gavin said as they approached. “Our original number increased by two. Miranda, you look lovely tonight.” He kissed her on the cheek before he held out his hand to Luke. “Archer, you look like a football player.”

“Miranda, I’m so happy for you and Luke.” Chloe Russell, Nathan’s fiancée, swooped in for a hug, her rose taffeta skirt rustling. Miranda had met them both at a Christmas party at Nathan’s penthouse, and she and the no-nonsense Chloe were on the road to a close friendship.

“Best wishes, Miranda.” The tall CEO in his custom-tailored suit bent to kiss her cheek. “Congratulations, Archer. You fooled us into thinking you weren’t even in the game until after the football season.”

Luke gave Miranda a secret smile. “Life happens when you’re making other plans.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Gavin said. “If you’re going to spout nauseating clichés, I’m headed for the door.”

“Without drinking the 1928 Dom Pérignon?” Nathan said. He picked up the bottle and turned to Miranda. “Vintage Dom has become a tradition at this particular celebration.” He filled the sparkling flutes arrayed on the table.

“The ring. We must see the ring,” Gavin said, as everyone picked up their glasses. “And I don’t mean your Super Bowl monstrosity, Archer. We’ve already admired that.” In fact, Gavin had surprised Luke by hosting a celebratory party at his New York City home. The writer claimed not to be a sports fan, but he had put on quite a gala event.

Feeling strangely shy, Miranda held up her left hand and tilted it so the diamond glittered.

“It’s gorgeous!” Chloe said. “May I take a closer look?”

Miranda held her hand out to her new friend, knowing what was coming next.

“Um, Nathan, I think we’ve been beaten to the altar.” Chloe looked at her fiancé with laughter in her warm brown eyes.

“Is that so?” Nathan turned to Luke.

“The clock was running, so I went to a no-huddle offense and called an audible,” Luke said.

“We had a family-only service in my hometown church,” Miranda said, remembering how intimate and beautiful the ceremony had been in the simple Victorian-era clapboard chapel. Trevor had stood as Luke’s best man while Patty had been her matron of honor. Theo carried the ring on a blue-and-gold pillow. “We’re planning a big reception here in the city now that football season is over. Of course, we hope you’ll all come.”

There was another round of congratulations, even warmer this time.

Chloe was examining the rings again. “So, tell me about the wedding band. I sense there’s a story there.”

The band was platinum, smooth and simple except for the five small stones set in it, alternating diamonds and sapphires. “Luke took one stone out of each of his Super Bowl rings and set them in the wedding band.” He’d told her that winning her love was better than all his Super Bowl victories put together.

Chloe guessed something of his feelings. “What an incredibly romantic gesture!”

“You are so damned competitive, Archer,” Gavin said. “Trainor beat you to the engagement, so you had to up the ante by beating him to the wedding.”

“Since we’re discussing weddings, we’d like to invite all of you to ours in October. It will be at the chapel at Camp Lejeune,” Nathan said. He smiled down at his fiancée, his whole face softening. “Chloe has taken a liking to Marines.”

“I just like the uniforms,” Chloe said with a glint in her eye. She turned to Miranda and Luke. “We picked a weekend when the Empire have a bye, so we hope you’ll be able to come.”

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but you don’t have to worry about that,” Luke said. “I’m announcing my retirement tomorrow.” He snuggled Miranda against his side and smiled down at her. “I’ve got better things to do than toss around a ball.”

“I see a white picket fence looming large in your future.” Gavin knocked back the rest of his champagne and signaled the waiter for another bottle.

“Going out on top.” Nathan nodded. “Smart move.”

“Miranda has her own concierge and travel business, which is growing. I’m interested in finance, so I’ll be moving in that direction.” He broke into a grin. “It will be nice to come home from work without bruises.”

“Amen to that,” Miranda said.

The incredible thing was that Luke had made the decision to retire without any obvious hesitation. He was eager to do something new, something that challenged him in a different way.

“Got any more surprises for us?” Gavin asked as the waiter refilled everyone’s champagne glasses. “No one’s pregnant?” He glanced between Chloe and Miranda. “I guess not, since you’re both drinking.”

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Miranda said. “To Gavin. He gave us good advice when we most needed it.”

“Gavin?” Nathan said, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Gavin waved off the credit. “I simply stated the obvious. Any idiot could see that you wanted each other.”

“You told me
I
was the idiot,” Luke said. He raised his glass to the writer. “And you were right.”

After they drank to Gavin, Luke took Miranda’s glass and put it down alongside his own. “We’re still on our honeymoon, so I’m taking my wife home now.”

He looked down at her, his blue eyes lit with such tenderness that Miranda thought her heart would dissolve. “
My wife.
Only three other words are better.” He lowered his head so his lips were a mere breath away from hers as he said,
“I love you.”