by G. K. Brady
She parked her SUV, and he opened her door before she could gather up the bin of mail, her coat, or anything else.
His eyes scanned the inside of her car, and his face seemed to fall. “You’re alone?”
“Yeah, Derek called at the last minute and wanted Daisy to come with him and Vi to the Downtown Aquarium.”
He took this news in, stepped back from the car, and nodded.
“Is that … is that okay?” Kinda late, but still, it hadn’t occurred to her that Gage might actually be disappointed Daisy wasn’t with her. No, she must have been reading him wrong. What single twenty-six-year-old guy wants a five-year-old running around his place?
He scratched his beard. “No, that’s fine. I didn’t know what she liked, so I stocked up on juice boxes and Goldfish and fruit leather and animal crackers and … But they’ll hold.”
Oh my God! He wanted her here? And oh my God! That’s so sweet.
Lily stared at the gorgeous, adorably flummoxed man standing outside her car, dressed in soft, faded jeans, gray T-shirt under an open blue-and-gray flannel shirt cuffed midway up his strong forearms. And on his feet? Fuzzy sheepskin slippers.
She was speechless. And motionless until he held out his arms. “Load me up, Goldilocks.”
Shaking herself from her daze, realizing he wasn’t inviting her to jump into his arms, she fumbled and shoved the container at him, which he caught with an “Oof!”
Horrified, she leapt from the car. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“No, it’s fine,” he laughed as he bobbled it in his grasp. “I just wasn’t expecting it to come at me quite so quickly. What else ya got?”
She snatched her purse and portfolio from the backseat, along with a few files. “Just these.”
He thrust his full arms at her. “Throw them in here.”
She did as he asked, noticing the way his bare forearms flexed as he adjusted the load. He canted his head toward the front door, and she headed inside with him trailing behind. The place was open, spacious, with lots of angles and windows, yet it somehow maintained a coziness that reminded her of him. The foyer where they stood opened onto a sunken family room with a stone fireplace that soared to a vaulted wooden ceiling. To one side was a dining room with a rustic table and too many chairs to count. Did he entertain a lot? Behind it, open to the family room, was a cook’s dream kitchen that featured a wide window running the length of a granite counter. The view beyond was of manicured pines on a sloping hill hugged by natural ground cover.
Gage veered off in the opposite direction. “This way.”
She followed him into a manly office with lots of dark wood and an enormous desk that spanned a width of floor-to-ceiling windows, offering the same evergreen scene.
“Wow! What a view!”
He deposited the container on one end of the desk. “Like it? Me too. It’s one of the reasons I bought the place. C’mon. I’ll show you around.”
Um … “That’d be great?” When was the last time she’d been alone with a man—who wasn’t Derek—in his house? A hot man at that.
Gage arched an eyebrow at her. “If you’re going to do my PR, you need to get a feel for how I live and what I do in my downtime at home, right?”
“Makes sense.” She pulled out her chain, sliding the ring smoothly along its length, suddenly in need of its weighty comfort as she followed him out of the office.
“And if you’re a good girl and work really hard, I’ll even cook you something. I make killer wings. T.J. once asked me to marry him, he liked them so much.” Pride made an appearance on his chiseled features.
Another surprising side to this man she had so much more to learn about.
Okay. Onward. But no deets about bedroom downtime, please. Why did that make her uncomfortable? Give her a twinge of jealousy?
A little scowl creased the space between his brows. “Don’t like wings?”
Her nerves all seemed to fire at once. “No. I mean, yes! I mean, um, how long will you need me here today?”
My inner idiot’s brilliant attempt at redirection.
His scowl twisted into a question mark. “I don’t know. How long have you got?” They entered the kitchen, and he paused to point out the pantry and laundry room before coming to a stop and perching his fists on his hips. And there was that lethal smile in its full, brilliant wattage. It made her knees feel all gooey, and that was bad. Really bad. The familiar flutters from last summer were wreaking havoc in her body, and she told herself to keep her distance.
Gage’s eyes caught on the ring she jerked over her necklace. “Is that …? Never mind.”
She heaved out a breath just as an orange tabby cat sauntered in, the tip of its tail dancing in the air as though on an invisible string. “This must be Hobbes?” She dropped to a knee and offered her hand for the cat to smell.
“Yep, that’s Hobbes. I sort of adopted him, but I didn’t think it through very well.”
The cat took a sniff, then rubbed its head against the back of her hand. “What do you mean?”
He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. A slight flex did wonders for both his forearms and the chest filling the T-shirt, and she quickly diverted her gaze back to Hobbes.
“Well,” he said, “I set up an appointment with Natalie’s vet but totally spaced that I’m out of town for an away game. I can probably reschedule that, but now that I’ve let him move in, I’ll need to find a pet-sitter to take care of him when I’m gone for long stretches. And Natalie only does dogs. Like I said, I didn’t think it through.”
“I might be able to take the cat to the vet, if it would help you out. I could also stop by to check on food and water and make sure the litter box stays clean. Cats don’t need much.”
Um, exactly why am I volunteering for cat duty?
Gage’s blue eyes brightened. “You’d do that?”
And his sweet reaction is exactly why. “Sure. You don’t live that far away.”
He smoothed the back of his neck. “Wow. That’s … Are you a cat person?”
“Not really, but I grew up with them. Oh, and I know enough to tell that Hobbes is definitely not a boy.” Her mouth quirked as she tried to corral a grin.
“What?” Gage appeared genuinely shocked.
The cat nuzzled her chin as if to say, “We chicas gotta stick together.” Lily stood and let the grin break out. “You might need a lesson in anatomy, Professor.”
Bright pink slashes decorated his sculpted cheekbones. “Kinda thought I had a good grasp on anatomy,” he muttered. “At least the human kind.”
An unexpected jolt traveled from her chest to her lady parts. “Um, while that may be true, cats are a different breed. Literally.” Now her cheekbones heated.
He flashed her a playful smile. “Well, thanks for that anyway. I think.”
An awkward pause hung heavy between them. “So,” he said, “any suggestions for what to call the cat?”
“If she’s used to Hobbes, I’d just stick with that. She doesn’t need to know you gave her a boy name.” Lily winked at him before she could stop herself, and if it were possible, his cheekbones flushed a darker shade of pink.
She checked a giggle and squared her shoulders. “About that tour …”
“Ah. Right this way.” He seemed glad for the distraction.
The tour lasted all of ten minutes and ended in a second family room repurposed as a TV-slash-gaming-slash music room featuring an impressive collection of basses and guitars adorning the walls. Lily took her time running her eyes over a variety of vintage Fenders and Gibsons.
“My collection’s only a fraction of say, Joe Bonamassa’s,” he said behind her, “but I’m hoping to add to it over time.”
She hovered her fingers over a lustrous Fender Stratocaster Sunburst. “What a beauty,” she whispered reverently.
“You know that one?” His voice was full of surprise. “Of course you do. What was I thinking? Do you play?”
She shook her head, refra
ining from adding that Jack had always coveted this particular guitar. Funny how thinking about him wasn’t causing her eyes to burn with unshed tears—for which she was blissfully grateful.
Pivoting on her heel, she nearly ran into Gage standing behind her. He took a step back, looking a little lost, as though he searched for words to steer them out of another awkward moment. “Did Jack play in the band too?”
Not what she expected. “Yes. He and Derek started it in high school.” Gage gave her an encouraging nod, and she went on. “Jack could play just about anything, but he especially loved the guitar,” she explained. “Derek was the more accomplished guitarist of the two, so Jack became the bass player.” Until now, she’d forgotten that Jack hadn’t been as good as Derek and that he’d fought Derek over the change.
Gage’s deep, mellow voice soothed her back to the present. “Does it help to talk about him?”
His expression, so heartfelt, so genuine, plucked her heartstrings. “I’m not sure,” she answered truthfully, searching his eyes. For what, she couldn’t say. Something else caught her attention. “Did you know your eyes are two different colors of blue?”
He shrugged. “Depends on the day. Usually, they’re the same.”
“I hadn’t noticed it before. They’re beautiful,” she blurted.
He didn’t move, but his eyes dug a little deeper into hers. “So are yours,” he said softly. “I thought so the first time I saw you.”
A meow came from the floor, startling them both.
Gage rolled his eyes. “Jesus, cat! Scared the shit out of me!” Hobbes rubbed herself against his leg as if to make amends.
Lily burst out with a pent-up laugh that was more laced with emotion than it was with humor.
“Probably time we got to work on the fan mail anyway,” Gage said,
Right. Fan mail. Focus, Lil. Somehow she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.
Chapter 12
Crush, Crush
Cockblocked by a cat. Not that Gage had planned to do anything about the burgeoning problem in his pants—the one that had been bothering him since Lily had first arrived. Too many pictures had been streaming through his head, and they’d taken a detour to his groin: tracing his thumbs over her silky skin, pulling that bottom lip between his and running the tip of his tongue along it, drawing her close and feeling all that pillowy softness against him. Exploring the mouthwatering roundness of her hips and breasts between the curvy guitar bodies that always reminded him of curvy female bodies. Taking her against the wall right here in the music room.
Stop. This. Shit. Now.
“Professor, why don’t you date?”
The question shocked him right out of his racy reverie, doing a better job shutting down his lust than any rebuke he could inflict on himself. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t date. There are dozens of women dying to get their hands on you—maybe even all at the same time—yet you seem … nonplussed by it. Uninterested. Why?”
The last bit she said nonchalantly, as if not referring to their previous sexcapade, which left him contemplating the same question. Did she have any interest in dating him at all? Did she think about it like he did, which was pretty much all the time? “Why, exactly, are you asking?” Hope floated.
“Judging by your mail, women make up a huge percentage of your fan base. Understanding more about you will help me craft the best approach when I respond to them on your behalf.”
Hope sank. Damn. “Ah. I see. Well, the women I meet are … For the most part, they’re interested in the hockey player, not me.”
“Don’t you meet women you’re attracted to outside that world?”
At the moment, he could only think of one. “If I do, they’re usually unavailable.”
“Unavailable as in married?”
He stared at the bookshelves beyond her. “Not married. Just … unobtainable.”
“Can you give me an example?”
Yeah, the one I’m looking at right now. But if she knows, she’ll bolt quicker than a bronc out of his pen.
He searched his brain for a name, any name, and unfortunately blurted out, “Kathryn Tappen.”
Lily’s expression transformed from curious to downright bewildered. And who could blame her? He was giving himself another Grandma head slap, trying to shake sense into his addled brain because, really, could he sound any stupider? The thought he could was disconcerting.
Lily now sported a triumphant look. “Oho!” she sang. “Don’t tell me. Supermodel?”
He hid his mouth behind his fist, biting back a laugh, and shook his head.
“Actress? Victoria’s Secret Angel? Playboy Playmate?” she prodded, her face eager like Hobbes when he—she—got a Meow Mix treat. Lily was too damn irresistible when she thought she was about to solve a mystery.
“Let’s go back to the office,” he deflected. Less chance of getting distracted by curvy guitars and everything I want to do to you here. He needed clean, hard angles to get himself back on track, to remain rooted in reality. To settle the fuck down until he could properly address his aching need.
Her head did an odd nod-and-shake motion, as if she couldn’t decide yes or no. Then it dipped, exposing the smooth line of her neck. He pictured his tongue and teeth on that neck, and his dick perked up. Again.
“Okay,” she agreed.
Office, asshole! She means going to the office, not sinking your teeth in her neck.
Back in said office, he pointed her to his executive chair and stood as far from her as he could while still staying inside the room. No need getting a noseful of sweet flowers and fresh something. His mind was messed up enough, thank you very much, being controlled as it was by his clamoring cock.
“So who’s Kathryn Tapping?” was Lily’s next logical question.
“Kathryn Tappen,” he corrected, pausing to clear his shockingly Mickey Mouse-like voice, “is a sports announcer.”
Confusion clouded Lily’s features once more. She slid her phone from the pocket of her ass-clinging jeans and began scrolling. “Ohhhh, I see. And wow! She’s stunning.”
“Yeah, but she’s smart, and she knows her hockey, probably better than the personalities she’s paired with,” he added helpfully. Yeah, that didn’t make him sound like he had a schoolboy crush in the least—which he didn’t. He just liked watching her on TV, like lots of fans did.
Lily blinked. “Do you know her?”
“Nope. Never met the lady.”
Pixie-ish nose pointed back at her phone, she said, “Looks like she’s single. So if she’s the reason you’re not dating, are you, you know, saving yourself for her?”
He burst out with a laugh. “Saving myself?”
“Yes. Like you don’t want to get involved with someone else because you might miss a chance with her.”
Was she serious? He scanned her face but didn’t find the answer. “Lily, I was only joking. I’m not worried about missing a chance because I’m not looking for a chance. While I may be stupid, I’m not stupid enough to believe I ever stood a chance.” Shit. That didn’t come out right. Makes it sound as though no one can live up to Kathryn T, including Lily.
“It’s fantasy, like looking at an actor on the screen and daydreaming. That’s all,” he tried to explain but only seemed to deepen the hole he was digging. “I … It’s nothing. She’s nothing.” And frankly, Lily Everett, after setting eyes on you, I’d forgotten who Kathryn Tappen is.
Lily gave him a calculating look without a hint that she thought he was a babbling moron. She slid her phone back into her pocket and tapped a finger against that plump lower lip of hers. “I have an idea, Professor.”
If that idea involves me showing you how comfortable my mattress is, I’m all in.
His semi stiffened to full mast. Shit. Why had he thought having Lily work at his home was a good idea?
Because he was, in fact, stupid.
While Gage shifted from one foot to the other, Lily fought the smile that tugged her l
ips. Oh Lord, this man was going to kill her with cuteness. And if it was an act to cover up a smooth playboy persona, he was doing a damn fine job, though she had a hard time believing it was an act.
He reached down to scratch Hobbes’s ears. “You have an idea?” he prompted.
“Would you like to meet her?” Lily ventured.
Gage looked as though he’d just been shaken out of a dozy nap. “Meet her who?”
Lily waved her hand grandly in the air. “This Kathryn person. I mean, you’re certainly … uh …” Her brain locked on to the words “hotness personified” for some unfathomable reason, and she gave herself an inner shake and recovered. “What I meant to say was that lots of hockey players date A-list celebrities. Look at Mike Fisher and Carrie Underwood.”
One dark eyebrow dipped. “If I’m the player picked for an interview between periods, and if Kathryn Tappen’s the one with the mic, then I’d be happy to meet her.”
“Would you ask her out?”
Wide blue eyes and the rest of his expression broadcast that he thought she was nuts. “Would I what?”
She crammed on her social media consultant hat. “Hear me out. What if I set something up through Twitter for you? Like when Anthony Beauvillier tweeted Anna Kendrick? That flirtation went viral! Did you see how many other NHL players jumped on the bandwagon to get those two together? And they only made up a fraction of the likes.”
Shock—no, horror—overtook his features. “What? Why would I do that?”
“So you can meet her. Kathryn, not Anna.”
His head began shaking before Lily had finished the sentence. “No way. Absolutely not.”
Oddly buoyed by his reactions, she let genuine curiosity spur her on. “You don’t want to meet her?”
“First of all, I prefer to keep my private life private.” He gave her a pointed look. “If I’m going to embarrass myself, I’m not doing it in public. Second of all, how and why did we get on this subject, and can we just move on?”
“I don’t get it. You just want to, what, admire her from afar?”
