“That might create resentment. He feels entitled to take what you offer because you have so much, but he sees himself as a failure compared to you. So he tries to pull you down.”

He pinned her with those laser blue eyes. “What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

She met his gaze. “Tell him you love him. Explain how much power that gives him over you, even though you appear to be invulnerable. Hope he rises to the occasion.”

“Trev and I aren’t big on that kind of talk.”

“Maybe this is the time to try it. He wants your attention, so he might respond better than you think.” She touched his shoulder in comfort. “You can’t force other people to behave in a certain way. All you can do is be true to yourself and hope your brother can respond to that positively. If he can’t, maybe he shouldn’t be a significant part of your life.”

She watched for his reaction, but he had on that impenetrable mask he wore on the football field.

“Cut him off?” Luke asked.

“That would be the most extreme outcome.” Miranda hoped she hadn’t started something that would damage Luke and Trevor’s relationship further.

He stood with his head bowed as he appeared to consider her words. But when he lifted his gaze, his eyes blazed with a hunger that meant he was done with the topic of Trevor. “I don’t know why I’m wasting our time together talking about my brother.”

He put her glass on the counter and interlaced his hands with hers, pulling her in so he could slant his mouth over hers. She tugged one hand free and curled it around the back of his neck to bring him closer, putting all she felt into the kiss.

He gave her back the same intensity in a long, temperature-raising embrace. When he lifted his head, Miranda wanted to shriek in frustration. His erection was hard against her, and she was liquid with need.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice husky. “Spend the night with me.”

“Yes,” she said, her yearning nearly at a point of pain. “Where?”

His voice turned granite hard. “I’m pretty sure I’ll have my place to myself again.”

“Remember that you love him.”

“Sugar, that’s the only reason I told Ron to leave Trevor for me.” He turned her so that she was snugged up to his side. “Walk me to the door. I don’t want to let go yet.”

That made her melt into him, even as she thought how glad she was not to be Trevor tonight. There was cold anger blazing in Luke’s eyes. She could feel it in the rigidity of his body.

They reached her door, where he tightened his arm in a brief squeeze and released her. “No more kisses to tempt me,” he said.

She laid her palm against his cheek. “Good luck with your brother.”

He turned the doorknob. “I’ve always believed you make your own luck, but tonight I’ll take whatever you can send me.”

And he was gone, closing the door firmly behind him. She jogged to the window and twitched back the curtain to watch him stride across the street to where his driver waited. As he started to fold his body into the backseat of the car, Luke looked back and raised his hand in farewell.

So he’d caught her at the window. Unembarrassed, she waved in return before letting the curtain fall back into place.

A cold, hard lump of panic clogged her throat. Only two more days.

Luke sat back on the car’s leather seat and stretched out his legs. “Back to my place.”

As the limo glided down the empty street, Luke folded his arms and let his chin sink onto his chest. Trevor should be his most pressing concern, but instead his mind turned to Miranda.

That rule he had about not dating during football season? He had made it, so he could break it. Problem was, everyone knew about it. People would talk, and it would create expectations.

He grimaced. And what about his thirty-six-year-old body? When he was around Miranda, he wanted to touch her. If he touched her, he wanted to make love to her. His body needed rest when he wasn’t training. Could he force himself to kiss her good night and go to his own empty bed to sleep?

He muttered a curse.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Just talking to myself, Brian,” Luke said. “I guess that’s a sign of my age, too.”

“Your age? You’re only as old as you feel, and the way you play, you must feel like a twenty-year-old.”

Luke shook his head. “Age and treachery can fend off youth and talent for only so long.”

Especially when the Super Bowl was on the line.

Could he ask Miranda to give him time, to wait until the end of the season? He shifted on the seat as he considered how to phrase the request. Look, I’m interested in continuing our relationship, but not until the football season is over. Can we put whatever is between us on hold until then and try to pick up where we left off? It was only for a few months. She might be willing to do that.

Unless she met someone else. He smacked a fist onto the seat beside him. He had no right to expect her not to see other men just because he was focused on moving a pigskin toward a goalpost.

Maybe she was already dating someone else. She’d called their relationship an interlude. She might consider him just an extended one-night stand before she went back to her other boyfriend.

He was about to pound the seat again but got a grip on himself. That wasn’t Miranda. If she were already in a relationship, she would have given Luke the tour on Tuesday and then told him—very politely—she wasn’t interested in anything more.