by Desiree Holt
Then her eyes lit on the beer and her tight mouth relaxed into a rueful grin. “I sure could use one of those—moving day is always a bear.”
Not that Max didn’t have plenty of women in his life. Even as a backup on the team, he was sought after by the football groupies. Plus, all his friends who were coupled kept trying to fix him up. He played it casually, never indicating a situation was anything but relaxed and fun. He had yet to find a woman he wanted to see more than three or four times, and certainly not one he considered making a part of his life.
Then Stacy marched into his life, and he’d been hooked ever since.
He struggled with being her friend when he wanted to rip her clothes off, drag her into his bed, and tell her how he felt. Especially since, from their conversations, she considered him a friend, no more, so he took what he could get. Only it burned his ass the way she constantly chose—okay, her word—assholes who didn’t treat her the way he thought they should.
Three years later, he remained in the first quarter, except here was a chance to revise the game plan. He would have to do it very carefully, like the field general he was.
“Max?”
Stacy’s voice penetrated his mental fog, startling him.
“Your suggestion?” she reminded him. “Although you’ve been looking at me like I have grease on my face or something, so I’m not sure I want to hear it.”
He cleared his throat. “Got any more beer?”
She waved a hand toward the kitchen. “Help yourself. And bring me one, too.”
He frowned. “Really? You’ve been sucking down that wine, and I don’t think they go together too well.”
“Who are you, my mother?” she snapped.
“Not hardly,” he said in a soft voice. “I’m your very good friend.” And then so low he half-hoped she didn’t hear it, “And maybe even a little more than that.”
When they were each holding ice-cold ones, he sat down, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, and took a long swallow of the cool, fortifying liquid. If she said no to his suggestion, he was shit out of luck. All the way around.
“I have a game plan to propose.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “Oh? Well, give.”
Another swallow. Jesus, he wasn’t this nervous even before a kickoff.
“What if we pretend to be a couple? I could be the guy who sweeps you off your feet. Sends you chocolates and flowers.” When her eyes flew wide, he hurried on. “Just hear me out. Not to brag or anything, but I am the Warriors’ number one backup quarterback. I get my share of publicity. Women tell me I’m not bad looking. I know not to wipe my nose with my hand, and I always wear clean clothes. I’ve been told I have a high profile in the hot guy department.”
She gaped at him.
“I can certainly do the whole Valentine’s schtick you mentioned before,” he continued. “You know, come to your office to pick you up for lunch. Send flowers and gifts. Give you a little squeeze and a peck so word gets back to the asshole. And anyone else who needs an attitude adjustment.”
He waited for her to make a comment. Why didn’t she say anything?
“Well?” His nerves were doing a jitterbug. Had he blown his chance with her? “What do you think? We could make it work.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you hate the idea.”
“Um, no.” Finally, she snapped out of her trance. “No, I don’t hate it.”
“Then what’s with the funny expression on your face?”
She gave an unsteady chuckle. “I’m stunned you would make such an offer. For me. Like this.”
“Hey.” He tried to smooth his features. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
“Don’t you have your own women to romance? Do all the romance crap with? I’d hate for some jealous female to show up and scratch my eyes out.”
“No.” He shrugged. “No one special.”
“And what about all the stuff the Warriors always do over holidays? For instance, I happen to know the owner and his wife have a huge party every year. Remember, we did a story about it last year?”
“One night. Big deal. When’s your shindig?”
“On Valentine’s Day itself. A week from Saturday.”
“Well, there you are.” He leaned back and took a calming sip of his beer. “The Warriors party is on Friday night. No conflict. Anyway, all I have to do is put in an appearance there then split.” His eyes lit up. “Hey! Why don’t you come with?”
Stacy frowned. “Get real. I don’t fit in with that crowd. I refuse to wear a barely-there cocktail dress, flaunt my boobs, and trowel on enough makeup to pave a sidewalk.”
Max laughed. “I should be insulted, you know. Don’t you think I have better taste than that? Besides, there are a lot of really nice women at these parties. Wives, fiancées. Like that. So does that mean you won’t be my date?”
“I think Saturday night will be enough obligatory duty for you. Thanks anyway, though.”
“You know I mean the invitation,” he insisted.
“And I appreciate it.” She chewed her thumbnail again. “You know this will get in the papers. The starting quarterback has been hurt so often, you’ve played in a bunch of games the past season. It certainly elevated your profile. The media will sniff out what’s happening and be all over it like white on rice.”
He laughed. “I’ll have a hotshot writer on my arm. And a gorgeous one at that. Besides, it will be a big improvement over the women they usually pair me up with.”
“Hah!” she snorted. “As if.”
“Whatever.” How could he tell her no woman measured up to her in his mind? She’d never believe him. At least, not right now. “We’ll put on a good show and have some fun doing it, right?” He waited another heartbeat. “So, what’s the answer? Shall we do it?”
“Uh, well, okay. If you’re positive you want to.” She grinned at him. “There’s going to be gossip for sure. Everyone will be stunned that a handsome stud like you has scooped me up.”
“Stacy.” His voice sobered. “You sell yourself way too short in that department. I keep telling you, you’re—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she spat. “All those things you said. So, how do we go about it? When do we start?”
“Tomorrow’s good for me, if it works for you. It’s Monday, and we have almost two full weeks until Valentine’s Day. By then, we’ll have the jerk begging you to take him back. How about if I pick you up for lunch?” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth, objection written all over her face. “No, you’re not meeting me at the restaurant. The plan only works if we do it where everyone can see us. Right?”
“Uh, right. Okay. Wow!” She took a sip of beer. “This will be an eye opener for everyone.”
“Which is exactly what it’s supposed to be.” He set his empty bottle aside and stood up. “I should probably let you get to sleep so you can be bright-eyed and sharp tomorrow.”
“So I can play my part.” She nodded.
“Absolutely.” But I won’t be playing at all. For me, it will be real.
“Thanks again, Max,” she told him as she walked him to the door.
“My pleasure, sweet lady.” He turned and put his hands on her shoulders. “I probably will kiss you when I come to get you tomorrow, so maybe we should have a couple of practice ones. You know, so we can get it right.”
“K-kiss?” She swallowed hard. “P-Practice?”
”Sure.” He grinned. “It’s easy. Let me show you.”
Arms around her, he cupped her head in one hand. Expecting he’d have to take his time, coax her into it, he brushed his lips over hers very slowly and carefully. At first, she stiffened, but he kept her in a light embrace and continued to tease at her mouth. Then he pressed a little harder before running the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips. He didn’t know what he expected. It certainly wasn’t the jolt of electricity that singed its way through his body.
When she opened for him with a sigh, his tongue slipped inside. Nothing he
had imagined even came close to the hot sizzle of the kiss, to the explosive connection between them. Jesus! His cock hardened, butting against her thigh. Lucky for him, she didn’t try to pull away. He couldn’t have backed off if his life depended on it. The taste of her mouth was so sweet, her tongue like liquid velvet. Unexpectedly, she slid it across his and joined him in a sensual dance.
He wanted to keep at it all night. This, and a lot more. But some remnant of his brain told him not to push the issue. With more control than he thought he had, he lifted his mouth from hers and eased his hold on her. He had to swallow a smile at her stunned expression.
“Yeah, I think this will work okay. Don’t you?”
She nodded, touching her lips with the tips of her fingers.
“Okay, then. Lunch, tomorrow. I’ll be at your office at twelve-thirty. Oh, and wear something sexy.”
He could almost feel her eyes boring into his back as he walked away.
Tomorrow was the kickoff.
He had one chance to let Stacy know how he felt about her. If his plan worked, maybe they could finally have the relationship he’d been dreaming about. But as he walked next door to his own place, two questions rattled around in his brain. How would he get to sleep tonight with a shaft hard enough to pound nails? And how could he keep their little charade from blowing up in his face?
Chapter Two
The Snap from Center
Stacy frowned at the disheveled pile of clothes on her bed. She had already chosen and discarded four different outfits. What did one wear to lunch, anyway, with a very sexy guy who pretended to be your guy to raise your hot babe quotient? All the outfits were somehow wrong: too fussy, too plain, too businesslike—What the hell? I am in business—or too casual.
Why couldn’t she simply pull some kind of ensemble together today without all the dithering?
Because Max, the devil, had said, “Wear something sexy.”
Max. The man whose goodnight kiss had left her wanting to get naked with him and leap onto his cock. The thought startled her so she nearly dropped the clothes she held. Then another thought hit her.
And wouldn’t that just shock the hell out of him?
Why on earth have erotic thoughts about Max, anyway? Good old Max. Doing her a favor.
Staring at herself standing in her bra and thong before her mirror, she wondered what Max would think of her body. She pinched one of her nipples through the satin covering, trying to imagine Max’s touch there instead of hers. Sliding her hand down across her tummy and inside the silk of her thong, she paused at her mound. As if they had a mind of their own, her fingers stole into the wet slit and found her clitoris.
Ohhh!
Closing her eyes, she pretended the touch belonged to Max. That he rubbed the bundle of hot flesh in a steady rhythm. Plunging two fingers into her soaked cunt. Lifting her hand to lick her juices from the skin.
Her eyes flew open.
What the hell?
I’m losing my mind. It’s that crazy plan I agreed to. And my bruised ego.
But was it? Really?
It was the damn kiss. It had to be. Who knew good old familiar Max Sullivan could kiss like a devil? Or that the mere touch of his mouth would set her entire body on fire?
Shaking herself out of the sensual fog, she turned back to the problem at hand. They’d planned a Valentine’s Day campaign, so she should probably choose an outfit accordingly. Start out right. She found a flirty red skirt she had forgotten about in the back of her closet and matched it with a white cami and a red and white jacket. She took extra pains with her makeup, even pulling out a red lipstick she hadn’t used in forever. On a whim, she decided to wear her hair loose instead of pulled back in a clip, and dug out a large pair of gold hoop earrings.
Stacy considered her reflection again. Was she making a mistake?
Hope I don’t look like I’m going to a costume party. Or trolling for tricks.
Well, never up never in, as they say in golf. Or at least as one boring date used to quote all the time.
In the elevator riding up to the magazine offices, she noticed some of the men slanting glances at her. Usually she ignored them—not that any of them had shown blatant interest. Today, however, her lips curved in a tiny smile as she stared straight ahead.
“Wow!” Deedee, the receptionist, stared at her. “New hairdo? You look—amazing.”
“Thanks.” She passed out another smile as she picked up her messages and breezed down the hall to her cubicle.
“Hey, Stacy.” Janelle, one of the other writers, entered from the break room. “Did you get—?” She stopped so suddenly, coffee sloshed over the rim of her mug. “Wow, Stacy.” She raked her gaze from top to bottom. “Just wow! What did you do to yourself?”
Stacy didn’t know whether to laugh or punch the woman out. Instead, she gave a nonchalant shrug as she put her purse away. “Nothing special. I thought I’d wear a little brighter getup than usual.”
“Brighter? You’re a whole new person.” Janelle’s face reddened. “I mean, not that you don’t always look fab—”
Stacy waved a hand at her. “It’s okay. I know my fashion sense sometimes leaves a lot to be desired.” A sin for a woman’s mag writer. Why hadn’t she thought about that before? “No problem. Anything going on I should know about?”
“New assignments at the staff meeting later this morning.” Janelle lifted a shoulder. “That’s about it.”
“Okay, then. Good. Well, I guess I’ll get to work.”
Concentrating became harder as each hour passed. Would Max actually show up as he promised? Take her to lunch? What would everyone say when quarterback Max Sullivan came to pick her up? She tried not to fidget during the staff meeting, dutifully taking assignments notes on her iPad, but she rose with relief when it was over.
Everyone was leaving the conference room when Deedee charged in, carrying a huge padded envelope.
“Stacy,” she squealed. “A delivery guy brought this for you.”
“What’s that?” Stacy stared at what the receptionist was holding as if it might bite her.
“Whatever it is, what’s inside sure is huge.” Janelle kept her eyes glued to the package.
“Open it,” someone urged.
The outside had only her name and office number on it. No return address. She set it on the table, pulled back the sealed flap, and eased out the biggest heart-shaped box she had ever seen. She lifted the lid, her eyes widening at the enormous array of chocolates displayed inside.
“Holy crap!” Janelle said. “That’s some box of sweets. Who sent it? Are you keeping secrets from us, Stacy?”
Max came to mind immediately. He’d said candy and flowers. What an outrageous gesture to kick off their campaign. She swallowed her smile.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an elaborate box of chocolates,” one of the other writers said. “Except in a magazine. Or a store in New York.”
“There’s no return address or anything,” Stacy addressed Deedee. “Did the messenger give you a clue who ordered the delivery?”
The receptionist shrugged. “He wouldn’t tell me a thing. Just said he got a call from the candy store for a pickup and delivery.” She slipped her hand inside the envelope. “Oh, look. There’s a card.” She flipped it open. “From your secret admirer. Will you be my Valentine? Holy shit, Stacy. When did you get a secret admirer?”
If only it were an admirer, unless Max…but no, despite the practice kiss, we’re just friends.
“Well?” Deedee prodded. “Where did you come up with a guy like this?”
Stacy frowned at the other woman. “You don’t think I can attract one? Am I so unappealing?”
“That’s not what I meant.” Deedee fluffed her hair, a gesture Stacy always found annoying. “Except you never…”
I know, I know. I never. “Never mind.”
The other women around her wore expressions of avid curiosity and pointed to the open box.
“Have a pie
ce of chocolate, everyone. Have several. I’ll never eat it all by myself. If I do, I won’t fit behind my desk.”
The sweet confections were melt-in-your-mouth heavenly. Stacy let one roll around on her tongue, the rich flavor of the chocolate and peppermint exploding. Whoever ordered the delivery deserved a big kiss. She hoped it was Max because she sure had enjoyed that kiss the night before. Even if the unexpected sizzle had totally shocked her.
She carried the candy back to her cubicle and booted up her computer, determined to get some work done. She had assignments already in the works, one due the following week. Focused on her writing, she jerked her head up at a familiar voice.
“Knock knock.”
Kurt lounged in her doorway, jacketless, sleeves rolled up, a big grin on his face. Butterflies danced a jitterbug in her stomach as she remembered the last time they’d been naked together.
“Rumor has it you’re the new queen of chocolates.” He chuckled.
She saved her document and turned to face him. “And they are delicious.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t think of sending them myself.” His gaze raked over her as if his eyes were undressing her. “New outfit? I like it. Very sexy.”
Oh, my God. Men are so predictable. Max called it. How interesting what a flirty outfit and a mysterious admirer could do to a situation. If she’d shown up in her usual slacks and sweater, without the secret admirer, would he even have known she came to work?
“Thanks.” She gestured at the box. “Have some candy, why don’t you?”
“Won’t your ‘secret admirer’ object to you giving them to another guy?” He used his fingers to gesture air quotes.
“Why?” She deliberately plucked a chocolate from where it nestled in the box and popped it into her mouth. “Is there some reason he should be jealous?”
Kurt unkinked himself from the doorjamb and ambled over to her desk. “There might be. Who is this guy, anyway? How come no one has ever met him? And where was he when you and I were doing the horizontal tango?”
