Scoring Her Heart

by Marquita Valentine

  “Sounds like this is going to turn into dinner.” She laughs.

  “I like dinner.”

  Her mouth drops open in mock surprise. “Me, too. I wonder what else we have in common?”

  “Do you enjoy eating lunch? Breakfast?”

  “Oh yeah, we are twins.” She presses the DOWN button, and we wait for the elevator to return. “There’s a teensy, tiny confession I have to make.”

  My gut twists. “What’s that?” I ask lightly.

  “I don’t actually enjoy watching football.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Paige

  A wise woman keeps her mouth shut and waits until the perfect time to reveal all.

  “You told him that you don’t enjoy watching football?” Layton moans. She smacks the heel of her hand against her head. “Please say you followed that up with an only kidding?”

  Obviously, no one’s ever accused me of being wise.

  “I’d love to say so, but I’d be lying.” I flop on the bed, the towel wrapped around my hair coming loose. “I don’t know what compelled me, but it was like I couldn’t help myself. Besides, what if he expected me to know the difference between a goal and first down on our date tonight? If we even have it. He was so quiet on the way back to the first floor.”

  Layton purses her lips. “They score touchdowns in football.”

  “I’m hopeless.” I push up on my elbows. “Seriously, though, what if he expected me to know things because Finley is my sister? Men like it when women know sports. They think it’s hot. I didn’t want to make him think I was something I’m not.”

  She sits beside me and pats my hand, then pulls me to a sitting position. “You worry too much about what people think about you.”

  “Hello, my name is Paige. Not only am I the middle child, but I also have abandonment issues.”

  “We all have issues.”

  “At least no one ever asked you out to win a bet,” I mumble, then want to slap myself silly.

  “Is that why he asked you out?” Layton’s hazel eyes blaze with fury. “Good thing I have his email because I have a few choice words for—”

  “No, it’s not... yes, he asked me out to help him win a bet, but it’s not a bet about me, specifically. It’s about dating a nice girl so his teammate can be mentored by Aiden... McHugh.” I don’t know why I add his last name. Layton’s oldest brother is best friends with Aiden. She’s known him as long as I have.

  She blinks in shock a couple of times before asking, “How does that make it any better?”

  “Well, now that I think about it... maybe it’s not such a great idea.” I flop on the bed again and groan. “I suck at dating.”

  “No, you don’t.” She shoves her hand under my back and forces me to sit up. Again. “Let’s start from the beginning so I can guide you into making the best decision.”

  “Boy meets girl—”

  “Paige!”

  “Fine. Fine. The first time Dallas asked me out, the bet wasn’t in place. He asked me out because he liked how the stickers looked on my boobs.”

  “How redeemable of him,” she replies wryly.

  “It’s better than asking me out on a bet or a dare... or because, I don’t know... hot librarian fantasy.”

  Layton narrows her eyes at me.

  “Yes, he said he had thought that, too,” I mumble.

  “Mr. Drake is a regular Prince Charming.”

  “It was charming,” I insist, but Layton’s not buying it. “You had to be there, okay?”

  “Humph.”

  Toweling off my hair, I grab the comb I’d tossed on the bed and run it through my damp strands. “There are tingles when we touch. The good kind. The swoony kind. He held my hand and stroked my fingers, made me all excited and relaxed at the same time. He’s really gentle.”

  Her face softens a little. “I did like that he refused to let go of you when I showed up again. A man up to no good sneaks around.”

  “Thanks for that. I enjoyed talking with him on my turf.”

  “Home-field advantage.”

  I have no idea what she’s talking about. “If you say so. Plus, I’m the one being sneaky. I told Dallas that if we dated, even just to help his friend, that Finley can’t find out. No one can find out.”

  “That’s going to be a bit difficult to do considering he’s a very public figure.”

  My eyes round. “Should I cancel our date tonight?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “451?”

  She shakes her head. “You’ll be fine there. It’s the Vegas of restaurants. What happens in 451, stays in 451. It’s why so many famous people eat there when they come to town. There’s an unspoken code and a hard rule on cell phones.”

  “Have you been before?” I ask, curious as anything.

  “Remember the actor who rented out the third floor for his daughter’s sweet sixteen?” At my nod, she continues, “That’s where we met to plan everything. I took out my phone to put in his info and almost had it confiscated on the spot.”

  “Wow. Maybe I should leave mine at home?”

  “No. You can have your phone. You’re not allowed to take pictures or videos while you’re there. Everyone who eats there follows the rule.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Everyone who wants to come back and trust me, this place is so amazing that they want to come back.”

  I blow out a breath. “I can do this.”

  “You can do anything, honey.” Layton eyes my hair. “But you best finish getting ready because it’s almost time to leave.”

  “Thanks,” I say softly.

  “Any time.” She ruffles my hair. “For what it’s worth, he’d be a dumbass not to show up tonight.”

  My phone makes the sound of coins falling, letting me know I have a new text, and I grab it, stabbing my finger against the home screen button.

  “It’s another text from Dallas,” I say.

  “Is it as romantic as the first?” Layton asks.

  “Nothing could ever be as romantic as This is the guy you couldn’t stop feeling up in your office. Let me know when I can return the favor.”

  “True. Read the new one to me.”

  “Dallas: Hopefully, you added me to your contacts by now. If not, I’m the guy who saved you from falling to your death today. What do you think?” I ask.

  Layton makes a small noise and lifts a shoulder. “That’s a lot better.”

  “Should I answer him?”

  “Better to find out now if he’s showing up or not,” Layton says.

  My heart beats wildly in my chest and butterflies take flight in my stomach.

  Me: I haven’t forgotten you. Thanks for saving me.

  Dallas: I’m running a little late, but I will be there.

  Me: That’s okay. I’ll take my time.

  Dallas: Can’t wait to see you, Paige. I’ll meet you at the entrance.

  I send him the emoji with happy hands and a smile.

  “He’s chosen wisely,” Layton says. “A good thing since I wasn’t looking forward to ruining my Louboutins when I shoved each one up his ass.”

  “I like it when you get all country. Makes me miss Washington County.”

  “You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl. Or forget the kickboxing lessons Master Lee drilled into me.” She pulls me to my feet and lightly shoves on my back. “Finish getting ready, lady!”

  * * *

  True to his texts, Dallas is waiting for me at the entrance while he talks on his phone. He’s wearing dark slacks that hug his powerful thighs and a burgundy-colored shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. That man has no idea what he does to me. Well, he has somewhat of an idea due to me sharing my love of forearms with him.

  Oh, and that move he pulled in the library—the one where he stood like a freaking superhero—total panty melter. How could it not be? I was still turned on from him touching my hand and our banter. Also, I’m incredibl
y weak when it comes to super-hot guys with god-like physiques.

  So sue me; I’m shallow sometimes.

  As soon as he sees me, he smiles and puts his phone away. Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. It’s been so long since I’ve had a date that my mind goes blank.

  Does he expect me to hug him, kiss his cheek, or give him a high five?

  Instead of doing any of those things, I stop just shy of him and do what makes me comfortable.

  I wave and smile. “Hi.”

  “Hey, yourself. You look amazing,” he says, his gaze raking over me from head to toe.

  “Thanks.” I make a grand sweeping gesture that travels from my head to the bottom of my dress. “This outfit is germ free of floors.”

  “Bet I can change that.”

  My eyes widen. “Do you plan on making me fall off another ladder?” I ask, purposefully mistaking his meaning.

  “Touché, Ms. Owens.” He places his hand on the small of my back. I can feel the heat of his skin through my dress, and I shiver. “I don’t think I can take another bruising of my ego in order to make that happen.”

  “What did the doctor say about your head?” I look at his lip. The swelling is gone and the cut that remains is almost too small to see.

  “I’m cleared to play on Sunday.” He clears his throat, and my gaze fixes on his face. “My lip is okay too. He fixed me up.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I wanted to be prepared for anything.”

  A man wearing a dark suit and even darker sunglasses opens the door. “Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Drake and Ms. Owens.”

  “He knows our names?” I whisper as we step inside.

  “Had to put you on the guest list. They don’t let just anyone in here.”

  “Then how did you get in?”

  He laughs. “I’m starting to think you’re more naughty than nice.”

  “Nah, I’m just sassy and... I like banter. Flirting. It’s fun with the right person.”

  His laughter dies. “That’s a nice compliment coming from someone like you.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It’s obvious your smart. You work in a library, but you don’t treat me like a dumb jock.”

  His comment stuns me into silence.

  We stop at the hostess station, then are taken straight to our booth where a waiter gets our drink orders and another person comes right behind him to place a basket of bread and a plate of butter on the table.

  “Does that happen a lot? People treating you poorly because of what you do?” I ask.

  “Happens more often than you think, but I can’t complain. I make too much money.” He grabs a roll and rips it apart, then spreads butter on a couple of bites before pushing the plate to me. “Can’t eat carbs right now.”

  “You have less than eight-percent body fat. I don’t think carbs will hurt you.”

  “It’s seven percent, and bad carbs will ruin everything I’ve worked for during the season.” He leans back and runs his hand down his incredibly flat stomach. “Come off-season, though, and bread’s not safe around me.”

  “No dates to Panera until after the Super Bowl. Got it.” I grin, pleased with myself.

  “Do you watch that?”

  “Puppy Bowl.” I duck my head. “And for such awful manners today, I will forgo carbs as well.” I push the bread away, but Dallas moves it right back to me.

  “I wasn’t offended, Paige.”

  “But you were so quiet.”

  “That’s what I do when I don’t have a response.” He takes a sip of water. “I needed some time to think about what you said. It hit me as kinda odd, considering what your sister does.”

  “About that... I purposefully chose to learn as little as possible about sports.” I unwind my napkin from around the silverware. “It’s a long story. If I told you, you’d probably change your mind about dating me in order to help your friend.”

  He tilts his head to one side. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

  “Maybe another time.”

  “Second date?”

  “We haven’t finished this one yet.”

  He forest-colored eyes pin me to my seat. “I know, but I want one anyway.”

  The waiter shows up again and goes over the menu with me before we place our orders. Dallas orders lean cuts of meat and a ton of grilled veggies. I almost feel guilty for ordering a filet and baked potato.

  Almost.

  I like to eat, especially when I’m nervous on a date because it keeps me from laughing like an idiot the entire time.

  “Did you tell Aiden we were going out tonight?” I ask.

  “Not yet.” He takes another sip of water and gazes longingly at my bread.

  “One piece won’t hurt you.” I pinch off a piece and hold it out to him. “I promise I won’t tell anyone you ate it.”

  “I’m going to start calling you Eve.”

  “It was the snake’s fault,” I protest.

  Humor dances in Dallas’ eyes. “I’m pretty sure Adam and Eve both made bad choices.”

  “That’s better.” I raise out of my seat and hold the bread to his mouth. Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t protest too much because I’m trying to tempt the heck out of him. “Go on. One little bite.”

  His mouth parts as he leans forward, lips wrapping around my finger and thumb. His tongue licks at me as his teeth scrape against my skin. I don’t move. I don’t want him to stop.

  “Want another piece?” I ask, all breathless and hot. My nipples are hard, and I can feel my pulse pounding between my thighs.

  “Yeah, but it is not a good idea. I’m too close to eating the entire loaf after one taste, and you’ll think the worst of me if I give in too soon.”

  No, I won’t... especially if eating is code for sex and loaf is code for me.

  He pushes my hand away, and I sit down again.

  “You looked so deprived that I couldn’t help myself,” I admit. “Feeding hungry people is a requirement in the South. Even if they’ve already had supper.”

  “That hurts. I thought you were being sexy, not feeling sorry for me.” He pounds his hand against his chest a couple of times.

  “I think you’ll survive.”

  He winks at me. “We’ll see.”

  “About us dating... I have more questions.”

  “Shoot.” He takes a long drink of water.

  “Are we really dating or is it pretend? And even if it is pretend, if I want to have my way with you, can I?”

  He chokes on his water. “What?”

  Oh, crap. Did I say the wrong thing? Maybe he’s not as attracted to me as he once was. Maybe liking football is a requirement to date him? Or maybe my fingers tasted like cleaner and he’s turned off. I had wiped off the steering wheel before driving over.

  “I’m only kidding. Gosh, I had you going.” I snort so hard that I cough. “You and me, like together... that’s silly. Such silly, silly talk.”

  His brow furrows. “I’m not following.”

  “When I said I wanted to have my way with you—that was only a joke.”

  “Too bad because I would have said yes.”

  My heart speeds up. “Really?”

  “Told you I think quirky is sexy and what you said about flirting or... what did you call it?”

  “Banter?”

  “Yeah, that, I think you’re the right person too.”

  “Oh,” I say softly, then before I make a fool of myself, I focus on eating. “I’m glad this dinner will make things up to you.”

  “What’s going to be your excuse to yourself for a second, third, and fourth date with me?”

  I jerk my head up. He’s dead serious. “I don’t have an excuse.”

  “Do you need one?”

  Silently, I shake my head.

  “I want to be real clear with you, Paige. The first time I saw you, standing there and trying not to hurt that old guy’s feelings, I knew there was something special about a woman like that. The attractio
n is a bonus. I want to get to know you.”

  Oh. My. Word. Are men like him real?

  “I want to take you to bed and fuck you exactly like you want. If along the way, something more comes out of this, I’m fine with that. And if it doesn’t, then what’s the worst that could happen?”

  Seriously? This is the impassioned speech I’ve been waiting for all my life. Sure, it’s on the first date, but stranger things have happened. My mom and her fourth husband? Married same day they met. Yes, they divorced three weeks later, but that was only on account that he was already married and his wife was more than a little pissed he’d forgotten—not that I blame her.

  On second thought, that’s not the best example of insta-love working out.

  This isn’t going to work out either.

  CHAPTER 8

  Dallas

  When it comes to women, one line doesn’t fit all and it really doesn’t matter who’s delivering it.

  Puzzled with her less-than-enthusiastic response, I say, “I thought you liked honesty.”

  “I do, but I like romance too. And pretty words. Poetry. Mr. Darcy in a white shirt and swimming in a pond.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind.” She waves her hand in the air sharply, her shoulders drooping, but then perks up suddenly. “Oh look, our food is here.”

  Shit. I’ve fucked up royally and have no clue how.

  I wait impatiently while the waiter takes care of us, wanting to dive right back into what’s gone wrong instead of my dinner, but I manage to keep my cool. No reason to take out my frustrations on him or anyone else in the vicinity.

  “Can you please explain what I said that made your beautiful smile disappear?” I ask once he’s out of earshot.

  She sighs a little. “You are so good when you want to be.”

  I am good, but I truly enjoy complimenting women. I truly enjoy women. Hell, I love women. What red-blooded American guy doesn’t?

  “You’d rather I be bad?” I quip.

  “Maybe?” She lifts a shoulder. “I don’t mean to send mixed signals, but you had me with the first part and lost me with the second. We barely know each other, but you’re already talking about taking me to bed and things not working out. Or working out.”

  “Again, I’m only being honest.”