The Game of Love (9 page)

The doorbell rang while she was channeling the attitude of the Warrior pose. Not feeling an ounce of pity for whoever dared to interrupt her mellow-down time, she stormed to the door and yanked it open so hard the doorknob slammed against the wall. Brett stood under the weak porch light, crickets chirping at his back.

“Do you always open the door with such flair?”

“What the hell do you want?” It was wrong, and a tiny bit of her brain whispered that. But most of her mind was still dedicated to the hatred of all things male. Plus, she hadn’t begun to work off her mad yet, thanks to the interruption, so he was just going to have to deal with it.

He held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “I was just coming over to congratulate you. I didn’t get a chance to tell you before you left the courts. But it was a great win, and I wanted to tell you in person.”

Well. That just killed her anger and buried it in the backyard. Her shoulders slumped a bit, and her spine curved as she felt anger deflate from her like air from a balloon. “Sorry. You just caught me at a bad time.” When he didn’t say anything, just shoved his hands in his pockets, she resigned herself to making use of her manners. “Do you want to come in?” She tried not to clench her teeth.

“Sure.” He smiled like he knew that she’d rather he leave. She shut the door behind him as he wandered into her home. His jacket brushed her chest as he walked by—completely innocent, no contact with his body. But her nipples tightened almost painfully in response. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide the evidence.

He did a slow spin in the living room. “Nice place. Who decorated?”

She looked around, wondering if he was actually curious or was barely holding back disdain. His house was so…dull. If that was his favored color palette, he’d surely hate her sense of style. She favored rich hues. Turquoises, browns and golds melded in a combination that Katie had warned her would look gross when the room was still coming together, but actually worked out beautifully.

Her mother would have called it garish.

She called it home.

“I did.” She spotted a hoodie on the back of the couch and pulled it on so she didn’t have to keep her arms crossed over her chest.

He nodded, as if not surprised by her answer. Glancing down, he saw he was standing on her yoga mat. He jumped back. “Yoga?”

“It helps calm me down.” Why had she admitted that? He didn’t need to know she needed calming down.

“Doesn’t seem to be working, if the way you answered your door was any indication.” His grin said he was teasing, but she wasn’t in the mood.

“I just started.”

He made an indiscernible sound and continued to look at her pictures. There were several. A few of recent years with friends from college, including Katie. Graduation photo of her with her diploma. And then several of the happiest time in her life…playing high school tennis.

It had provided the competition, the thrill she wanted, without nearly as much pressure as the pros. She had been surrounded by friends who enjoyed the sport as much as she did but weren’t pushy or demanding.

They were good times.

He picked up one old wooden frame and examined the picture. “How old were you here?” he asked, angling the frame her way.

She took a few steps forward to see. “Oh.” Her lips curled into a smile. “Seventeen.” The picture showed her, young and tanned, face free of anything but excitement, mouth split into a massive grin and her racket about to drop out of her fingers as another teammate jumped at her from the side. “We’d just won the state championships. That was my warm-up partner, who also played singles.” She sighed a little at the beautiful memory before she realized Brett had been staring at her with an oddly pained expression. “What?”

He stared a moment longer, then shook his head and gently placed the frame back in its spot. “So what had you so riled up after your impressive win? I saw you before I left the courts. You were all but floating.”

“Don’t really want to talk about it.” She stuffed her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie and turned to look at the clock on the wall.

“Let me guess. Dog died?” When she didn’t acknowledge his guess, he continued. “The maid stole all your jewels.” Her lips twitched, but she managed to stay stoic. “Trouble with an ex?” Something must have shown on her face because he gave a soft, “Ah,” before moving to stand in front of her. He looked at her for a moment, then gave a crooked smile. “Fair warning. I’m going to kiss you now.”

Before she could give permission—or shut him down—he bent down and pressed his lips to hers. It was a whisper of a kiss, so soft she wasn’t sure if their lips had actually touched. She had braced herself for impact, for that moment where his mouth would smash down so hard their teeth would grind together.

It never came.

“The last man you were with was blind and dumb to let go of you.” He murmured the words against her lips.

“He didn’t let me go,” she mumbled, her mind numb from the pleasure.

He leaned back, breaking contact. “You’re not still with the guy, right? I don’t do attached women.”

She pulled back. “He didn’t let me go, you Neanderthal. I wasn’t clubbed and held hostage in some cave. I left of my own choice because I am my own person.”

That he thought she wasn’t in control of her own life was like waving a crimson cape in front of a pissed-off bull. Pulling her hands out of her hoodie pocket, she charged the two steps to reach him, using her momentum to push hard against his chest. The backs of his legs caught on her sofa and he sat down with a thud.

Still seeing red, she straddled his lap, her knees sinking into the couch. His eyes were wide and his lips were slightly parted. Cupping his jaw between her hands, feeling stubble from his any-o’clock shadow, she angled her head and prepared to show him she was in complete control of her life.

But instead of a bruising kiss, she found a gentle reception. A soft landing place where his mouth absorbed her pressure, letting her set the pace. His hands rested on her waist, not making a move, not squeezing. Just the right pressure for balance.

Then the dynamic changed, and she could only admit it was for the better. He responded with more fervor, the tip of his tongue coaxing her mouth open. His tongue swept in, gentle and sweet, but also intense. She tasted spearmint, like he’d been chewing gum. He smelled like grass from the field.

One hand smoothed a path up her back under her sweatshirt but over her tank. His palm made lazy circles on her back that mimicked the rhythm of their kiss. It was a light, almost reverent touch, and she finally knew what Katie meant when she had once said she loved kissing so much she could do it for hours alone. If this was how it was supposed to be done, sign her up for a marathon event.

With his left hand still rubbing her back, the right crept up, his fingers just barely sliding under her shirt. Her skin warmed to his touch, and he didn’t press further. Then he started to scratch lightly, just enough to feel through the fabric, and she was lost in a pleasure-filled rush of sensations. She moaned and deepened the kiss further, shocked there was a way to make it any more intense. She slid one hand into his short hair, grabbing on to what she could to anchor her.

Brett took her reaction as an invitation for his right hand to explore further. Fingers crept up her ribcage, walking along as if counting the bones. He reached the underside of her breast, and she shivered at the caress on the sensitive skin.

She braced herself for the itty-bitty-titty jokes. Then her heart soared when his big hand closed over her breast, kneading, and he simply sighed in response. Maybe he wasn’t a boob man. Just as well, since she didn’t have much to offer in that area.

His left hand started to push her tank up, and her fogged brain sang “Hallelujah.” But in the middle of the second chorus
The Pink Panther
theme song pierced through the haze.

Her ringtone for Katie.

Brett chuckled into her mouth. “
Pink Panther
?” He pulled back, arched one eyebrow, and she felt the urge to punch him in the arm. But first…

She lunged for the phone on the coffee table. A heaven-sent warning, a reprieve from the inferno she was willingly tossing herself into.

“Katie, hi.” Crap, she sounded like she’d just run a marathon. Her heart pounded as if she had just finished a third set tiebreak.
Gotta calm down.
She pressed a hand to her chest, as if that could slow the rapid beating.

A pause, then, “Why are you breathing so hard?”

“Just had to run for the phone. So what’s up?” She turned her back to Brett, hoping he would just take the hint and leave so she didn’t have to deal with the post-kiss awkwardness.

“I was just calling to let you know that I—”

Brett snatched the phone away from her. “Katie? Yeah, it’s Brett.” His deep voice rumbled over the top of her head. “Chris is busy, she’ll call you back later.” He snapped the phone shut and tossed it on her overstuffed armchair. “Problem solved.”

Chris turned to look at him. He had an
I’m so proud of me, I solved world hunger
grin on his face.

“What is your problem?” she exploded. “You had no right to do that! Now she knows you’re over here!”

She watched as his smile fell. “What, like it’s a secret?”

“You don’t get to decide when I’m done on the phone.” God. Just when she thought he was different.

“Well, I was just attempting to teach you a lesson in rudeness.” He crossed his arms over his chest, a smug smile tilting the corner of his lips.

“Rudeness?
Rudeness?
And what, pray tell, do you call grabbing the phone out of someone’s hands and hanging up on the person on the other line?”

Classic Dax. That’s what she would call it. And she’d almost walked right back into the same trap. Different athlete, same attitude.

“We were in the middle of something, and you left. That was rude.”

“You…you…you ape!” She raised her hands to shove him out of childish anger, but the sight of his wolfish expression reminded her of what happened the last time she’d pushed him. Her arms dropped and she took a step back. She closed her eyes, concentrated on breathing. Minutes later, when her heart stopped racing, she opened her eyes again.

“Out.” She punctuated her command by jabbing a finger toward the door, in case he’d forgotten where it was.

He backed up slowly, as if she was a rabid dog he didn’t want to spook. Good, maybe he’d give her a wide berth from now on.

He shrugged his shoulders. “All right, I’ll go.” But as he opened the door, he looked over his shoulder.

“You know, I really did come over here to congratulate you. The kiss was just a serious bonus.” The door snicked closed behind him.

Chris grabbed her phone and hit the send button, which automatically called the last person on her list. “Katie? I’m so sorry about that.”

Her friend laughed. “Why are you sorry? If I’d known what you were up to I’d never have called. So you and Brett Wallace, huh?”

“No. Me and nobody. Brett Wallace and his ego.”

“What? Nothing happened? I don’t believe it.”

Chris sighed. “Katie, he kissed me and he left. I think he would have liked to keep going but…” Even though Katie was her best friend, Chris couldn’t bring herself to mention that until the phone had interrupted them, she’d been ready to go along for the ride.

“That was sadly lacking in detail, you know.”

Chris laughed. “You’ll just have to steal my diary and read all the juicy deets later.”

“Okay.” Her voice was resigned. “Coffee this week?”

“Sure. Decaf for you.”

“Ugh.” She groaned, and Chris laughed again.

“You’ll survive. Love you.”

“Chris?”

“Hmm?”

“Was it good?”

Chris debated the wisdom of hanging up. But Katie was no fool and she’d get the goods out of her eventually. “It was…good and then some.”

Katie sighed wistfully. “Ah, young love.”

“Goodbye, Katie.”

Why did she—of all females—affect him like that? He felt five again, like he’d been pulling on Caroline Witby’s braid so she would pay attention to him. Disgusting.

But unlike Caroline—who had used a book to slap him upside the head for the braid-tugging—when he taunted Christina St. James, it was like another woman emerged. Gone was the man-eating ball-buster who’d like to run over him with her dinky car, back up and then do it again. Instead, some new, softer version came to light. At least while they’d been busy kissing. A Chris who could forget for five seconds that he was a jock, and let instinct and feeling rule. A Chris who kissed like the world was ending tomorrow and she was going to feast tonight.

He’d like that Christina. A lot.

Truthfully, he liked both versions. It was nothing short of a miracle these days to run into a single, unattached female who was willing to forego the ass-kissing for a little sarcastic banter instead. One who wasn’t going to let him steamroll her, or anyone else. It was refreshing to have someone to spar with, even if it was also frustrating as hell.

He turned on his blinker even though nobody was around and turned down the long road that would take him past the high school on his way home.

She’d seemed almost embarrassed to be caught making out on the couch, even though Katie couldn’t see what they were doing. What was that about? She had to be, what, mid to late twenties at this point? Not exactly like Mom and Dad were gonna walk in any second and catch them acting like two guilty, hormone-driven teenagers.

He should leave her alone. Her words said she wanted nothing to do with him beyond a working relationship. Nothing but professionalism.

It was all a front. His hands twitched at the memory of the shape of her breast. She’d been so in the moment. He had no doubt they’d have been rolling on the floor within minutes if they hadn’t been interrupted.

Stupid
Pink Panther
song.

He’d seen the true Chris, and there was no way in hell he was walking away from that woman. He loved her dedication to her team, her leadership and caring for the girls. Bonus points, she was beautiful.

And the best of all…she didn’t show any signs of being a gold-digging pro-ho.

Yes, indeed. For the first time in two years, he was getting excited about the chase. Hell, there
was
a chase. A woman who wasn’t throwing herself into his arms. There was a challenge.

And he never backed down from a challenge. Time for a plan.

Four weeks into school, the tennis team’s record was holding strong at four wins and three losses. Chris had been concerned that the losing record would dampen her girls’ spirits, but they were almost more motivated by the close losses than the wins.

The football team, predictably, remained undefeated.

Reluctantly taking a page from Brett’s book, Chris had encouraged her girls to make it to the other sports teams’ games and matches when they could. The team had worked the concession stand at the football season opener, and again the last weekend, and raked in some good cash. One more turn at dishing out popcorn and peanuts and the invitational would be paid for.

She always made sure to show up for supervision duty right on time and avoided going anywhere near the field. Right after the concession stands shut down at the end of the third quarter, she booked it home.

She thought of it as self-preservation, for both her and Brett.

Sitting back in her chair, she stretched her hands above her head and looked up through her fingers to the ceiling of her classroom, as she worked the kinks out of her sore back. She loved teaching, loved showing her students the practicality and the importance of mathematics in daily life. But grading was a physical hazard of the job. The kinks in her back and neck from bending over her desk were insane.

Football games were a rite of passage she’d missed as a teen. If she wasn’t out of town for a tournament, she was getting an early night’s sleep in preparation for a grueling Saturday morning practice. At the time, it didn’t seem like she was missing much. Now, taking a second lap through high school from the adult perspective, she felt cheated.

Staring at the ceiling tiles, she wondered if sitting in the stands for just one football game would hurt. She could blend with the parents, get there late and leave early. She wouldn’t even have to talk to—

“Hey.”

She jerked back in the chair, almost tipping over. Her palms slammed on the desk to catch her. Once her heart stopped racing, she looked at the source of her near-death experience. Katie sat, calmly rubbing her belly.

“Seriously, do you live to terrify me?” She shuffled a few papers, mixing in some of the ones she already graded. “Crap.” What was she doing? Falling over in her chair because she was too busy thinking about Brett Wallace—and ways to avoid him—instead of paying attention? She needed to get it together.

“Maybe if you weren’t daydreaming on the job, I wouldn’t have scared you.” Katie smirked.

“It’s my planning period.” Chris lifted her pen to record the paper she’d graded just before her mind wandered.

“Whatcha writing? Christina loves Brett forever?” Leaning over the desk, she watched Chris write down the test score. “You forgot to draw a heart around your names.”

“If you weren’t pregnant…” Katie was one of her best friends. There was no point hiding where her thoughts had been. Katie would know. Especially after Chris had blurted out the truth about their kiss when pressed for details four weeks ago. “What do you want me to say? The man is good-looking. And he’s an okay kisser.” At that, Katie raised a brow in disbelief. Chris ignored it. “But he’s not my type.”

“Oh, sure.” Katie leaned back in her chair. She waved her hand as if to dismiss the thought. “Tall, dark, handsome as sin, amazing personality—”

“Amazingly conceited, arrogant, self-important…”

“I think you need to give him a chance. Let him prove that not all athletes are assholes.” Katie stiffened and looked around the room. “Twenty-eight and still looking behind my back to see if someone caught me cursing in this place,” she mumbled as Chris laughed.

She shook her head. “I just wish you’d see where things led instead of avoiding him. Brett’s a good friend of ours. You think we’d be friends with—” she glanced toward the door before looking back, “—an asshole?” she finished in a dramatic stage whisper.

“What I think,” Chris said slowly, “is that Brett is not someone I want to pursue. And how did you know I’ve been avoiding him?”