Game On Box Set: Time Out\Her Man Advantage\Face-Off\Body Check Read online

  “That’s good,” he said. “Boredom will kill you.”

  She felt as if there was a hidden meaning there. Was he trying to tell her he was bored? Maybe one part of his life was boring, like his love life? Or perhaps he thought her work sounded boring.

  Who knew?

  She used to be so close to him she could almost read his mind. Now he was a stranger to her. A gorgeous, half-familiar stranger.

  “So, what do you think about my brother as a coach?” she asked to get them back to a neutral subject.

  “He’s a good guy. He works us hard, doesn’t put up with any bull. Used to be nobody had time to practice, we’d show up at games and hope to hell nobody got hurt since we don’t heal as fast as we all used to. Now, he’s getting us working more as a team which is obviously critical if we want to do well at the tournament. He got us thinking about building a team being like building a fort. Frankly, I think we all thought that head injury had done him in. But a few drills that stressed team-building and it started to come together.”

  “Maybe I’ll come and cheer you guys on in Portland,” she said. Portland was where the big tournament would be held.

  His gaze caught hers and she felt the strength of him, the stunning connection she still felt to him. “That would be great.”

  They chatted about the team’s chances and then the last of her milk shake was sucked dry, and Greg had eaten both his burger and half of hers. There was nothing to keep them here any longer. But how she hated to let him go.

  In the parking lot, there was a moment of hideous awkwardness. Did she hug him? Shake his hand? Kiss him on the cheek?

  He seemed equally stuck in uncertainty. Finally, when the moment stretched a little too long, she gave a nervous giggle and opened her arms to hug him.

  He took her in, squeezed her to his big body. Then pulled away quickly. “See you around,” he said.

  She felt as though she could barely breathe. “Yeah,” she managed. “See you around.”

  She drove home. See you around? What kind of crap thing was that to say to a person. See you around.

  She did a few Saturday errands, picked up some things at the organic grocer in her neighborhood. And then went for a run along the path that edged the beach. The air was cool and bracing. The water was gray, the seabirds gray, the distant mountains a darker gray. When rain began to fall she didn’t stop. She’d grown up in Vancouver so she was used to it. Besides, the drops were cooling. The exercise helped calm her a bit, but the truth was that since she’d seen Greg this morning she’d felt on edge.

  Truth was, she was sexually starved. She hadn’t had a man in her life for a while and seeing a specimen of pretty much solid testosterone was reminding all her girlie bits that they’d been starved for too long. That’s all it was.

  Running helped calm her but it couldn’t quench the restless heat coursing through her body.

  She jogged back to her apartment, took a long shower.

  While she was combing out her hair, her door buzzer went.

  She wasn’t expecting anyone. She put on her robe and answered the intercom.

  “Sam, it’s me.”

  There was only one “me” who could fire her up at the mere sound of his voice uttering a few words over an intercom.

  A sweet, familiar ache began low in her belly. “Come on up,” she said.

  3

  GREG HAD NO IDEA WHAT he was doing entering this woman’s apartment. He’d argued with himself back and forth since they’d parted in the restaurant parking lot.

  But she was like an addictive drug. One taste of her was never going to be enough.

  So he’d gone to her place. He knew where it was, like he knew a lot of things about her in the peripheral part of his brain. He wondered if she’d kept the same casual tabs on him over the years.

  She wasn’t home. He’d been so keyed up to see her, talk to her, something, that the disappointment felt like a blow.

  He’d been about to drive away when he saw her jogging toward him, her form still trim, though she’d become a little curvier with time.

  He gave her fifteen minutes to shower, thought that ought to be long enough for anyone. Then he called up.

  When she answered, he didn’t know what to say. Had no idea why he was there. But she didn’t seem to care. She’d invited him up, and here he was, outside her door.

  He took a deep breath. Raised a hand to knock and to his horror realized it wasn’t quite steady. He’d faced down deranged, drugged-up killers, been called to scenes of terrible tragedy, and had always kept a steady head and hand.

  Now he was going shaky over a woman? A woman who’d dumped him and pissed all over his broken heart?

  He must be losing it.

  But that didn’t stop him from rapping urgently on her door.

  She opened it. She stood before him in a silk robe that barely covered her thighs. The V-neck gave him a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. Her hair was a damp mess falling down her back.

  He stepped inside.

  She shut the door.

  For a moment they simply stared at each other, then she leaned forward, rose to her toes and put her lips on his. And just like that, lust sucker punched him.

  He had his arms around her before he could even think about stopping himself, about restraint, brains, consequences, going down this self-destructive road again with this woman who was as much a part of him and his past as his right arm. With her body rubbing up against him, damp and smelling of all those female potions, and the underlying womanly scent of her, how could he think?

  Why would he want to?

  Their mouths were greedy for each other, crazy. They kissed the way starving people might eat. His hands were in her hair, fisting in the still damp strands.

  She had her hands under the leather jacket he hadn’t taken off, pushing it off his shoulders. He stopped to shrug the thing off, to help her yank his shirt over his head.

  She touched his naked chest, dipping her head to lick at him. He plunged under that robe, feeling for her, for her breasts that were round and plump and perfect. Oh, so familiar, and yet somehow new. She moaned when he cupped her, nipped at him, and kept going south.

  His blood was pounding, need driving him to take, to give. To possess.

  Her hands were working at his belt, but his raging erection and his impatience made it torture.

  He pushed her hands away, not wanting to waste the time.

  He kicked off his shoes, dragged off his socks, and, while she watched him with those amazing big blue-green eyes of hers, yanked his jeans and shorts off in one less-than-smooth move.

  Her gaze traveled up and down, drinking him in and he felt a tiny sizzle of embarrassment along with a need stronger than any he’d ever known.

  Sam knew she’d never wanted a man more. Not any man. This man. She loved the darkness of his skin, the tight, hard abs, and the glorious cock standing stiff and proud.

  His eyes were dark, liquid, heavy with wanting that matched her own. His breathing was ragged. He reached for her and she loved the play of muscles in his arms. There was a scar she’d never seen before on his right bicep. Later, she knew, she’d ask about it. But not now. For now she kissed the jagged spot.

  He reached for the belt of her robe, holding her gaze with his, and when he unwrapped her, she felt not as though she and her body had aged a decade since he’d last set eyes on her, but as though she were brand-new.

  His gaze traveled down her naked body and he made a sound that could only be satisfaction. She felt beautiful, irresistible and so hot she was about to explode.

  Maybe she wanted him enough to take him right now on the polished concrete floor, but for their first time reunited, she really craved the comfort of her big, expensive bed with the soft linen sheets. She took his hand, led him to her bedroom.

  With no ceremony at all, he yanked the pretty duvet back and pushed her to the bed. He joined her there, hot and hard everywhere.

  He kissed her