by Robyn Neeley
Sarah choked on the cold air. Before she could decide whether to keep the gossip mill churning, she blurted out, “Oh, we’re not dating.”
“No?” The older woman studied her. “I’m surprised, given the way he looks at you.”
Goose bumps surfaced immediately and had nothing to do with the temperature outside. Sarah rubbed her arms, trying to mask the effect Connie’s comment had had on her.
What was the coach’s wife implying? How was Ryan looking at her?
She highly doubted Mr. “I Don’t Do Relationships” was looking at her any way except as a friend would. “Sure has gotten chilly out here,” she offered lamely.
The guys finished their conversation. Coach collected Connie, leaving her and Ryan alone. “Sorry about that,” he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. “I haven’t seen Coach in years.”
She watched the couple stroll back into the gala still consumed with what Connie had revealed, overanalyzing in her head that Ryan’s arm was now around her. That action was a little more than friendly, right?
She decided to test Connie’s hypothesis, tilting her head up.
His smile was the same she’d experienced all the way back to the first day they’d met, when he’d slid into an empty seat next to her in the conference room and offered her a malt ball—sweet with a hint of mischief.
No longing. No look of desire. Connie was wrong. “They’re nice.” She nudged his hip with hers. “I didn’t know you were such a cat lover.”
That got a hearty chuckle as he removed his arm from around her shoulders. “Of course she told you that story.”
“I thought it was adorable.” And sexy as hell, but he didn’t need to know that. She sighed and looked out over the football field. “So this is where the legendary Ryan Wright got his start?”
He rocked back on his heels. “I’m not sure how legendary I was, but yes, that’s the infamous football field.”
“Let’s go.” She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him toward the stairs, but he didn’t budge.
“Where?”
“To see it, of course. Unless…” She nodded in the direction of the glass doors. “…you want to go back to table one for coffee and conversation with Mr. and Mrs. McGee?”
“That would be a definite no.” He led her down the stairs and through the entrance of the field.
“Is that where the magic happened?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her. Without the adrenaline from her encounter with Melanie, or the blood-pumping dances they’d shared, her body had cooled rapidly. She shivered, and goose bumps spread across her arms.
“You are cold.” He removed his suit jacket. “Here, wear this.”
“Thank you.” She let him help slide her arms in. The same sensation that had shot up her back earlier from his touch now radiated down her arms.
She pulled his coat around her, breathing in his fresh, minty cologne that was unmistakably masculine and highly intoxicating. “Wow. I’ve never been on a high school football field before.”
“No?”
“Nope. We only had a basketball team.”
“Were you a cheerleader?”
“Oh, no. I didn’t have time for sports. There were a lot of chores to do on the farm.” She touched her dress, reminding herself she was more than a little out of place at this fancy party. “Didn’t wear a lot of these, either. I feel like a bit of an impostor.”
“I think you look amazing tonight. You should wear dresses to work more often.”
Sarah’s cheeks heated at his compliment. “Maybe I will.”
Note to self: buy a new dress to wear on Monday STAT.
“So…” Ryan touched her arm. “You never told me you grew up on a farm.”
She didn’t tell many people. It wasn’t that she was ashamed, but she wanted her colleagues to see her as a sophisticated city girl, not someone who not that long ago fed goats and shoveled manure. She nodded, shrinking a bit inside his coat. “Small-town America.”
“That must have been an experience.”
“It was. I stayed in the area for a few years after college, but when the executive assistant position opened up at NPH, I went for it. Living in New York City had always been my dream.” She laughed. “But there are days when I miss Clara Belle and Henry.”
“Friends?”
“You could say that. Clara Belle is my dad’s favorite cow, and Henry, the rooster, showed up one day when I was eighteen and has never left Clara Belle’s side. He has quite a crush. They’re practically inseparable, and quite a sight to see. I have a picture.” She opened up her clutch and pulled out her phone, tapping until she found the photo she’d taken of them in the barn the last time she’d visited. “See.”
Ryan took a look at her phone. “Wow. Looks like love. I don’t know. Maybe someone should tell them that it’s probably not going to work out, and Clara Belle will kick Henry out to pasture the minute a bull walks by.”
“Never going to happen,” she protested, touching the phone to her heart. “She’s smitten with Henry. Besides, we don’t have bulls on the farm.”
Ryan laughed and guided her down the field with his hand on the small of her back. It was…comforting. “I’m really glad you came with me this weekend.”
Her heart beat a little faster. Did he mean as his coworker that he ate lunch with most days of the week or something more?
She gave that question a mental slap. Stop reading into everything he says and get back to the plan. “I really like working for Logan,” she said, half-heartedly bringing up the guy she was supposed to be interested in.
“Of course you do.” He smirked.
She swatted his arm. “I didn’t mean it that way. He’s a great boss and leader. Now, having to deal with the architects and their high demands is another story,” she teased.
“I’ve heard that. The civil engineers are assholes.”
They continued down the field in silence. Normally, dead air would have worried her, but there wasn’t anything awkward about this stroll. There was something special in taking in the starlit sky with Ryan by her side.
“So, what was Logan’s position on the team?”
“I told you. Bench warmer.”
“He didn’t have a position?”
“He was offense, but I could count on one hand how many plays he made his entire four years. I love the guy, but I wasn’t about to lose a state championship because he couldn’t catch the damn ball. He wasn’t very athletic—still isn’t. Haven’t you noticed?”
She laughed because, yeah, he really wasn’t. Logan always made excuses to not participate in the company softball team. While she could see him maybe with a racket in his hand, she couldn’t conjure up a visual of him playing any type of contact sport.
Why was that so disappointing?
Frowning, she scanned the length of the field. “You’re right. I can’t see Logan in a football helmet. Or a jersey, for that matter.” But she could see Ryan in both. Particularly him in his football jersey, surrounded by adoring fans, as he rushed off the field after a big win.
Was it her imagination, or did Ryan suddenly look hotter?
“It’s definitely not for everyone.”
Flustered—who knew she had a thing for football players?—she lifted her chin. “I bet I wouldn’t have cost you a game.”
“Yeah?” Ryan tossed the ball in the air. “I’d like to see you prove it.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
Crap. She gestured to herself. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m wearing a dress.”
His eyes trailed down her body like a caress. “Oh, I’ve noticed.”
Her whole body flushed, bringing the temperature up a few degrees inside his suit jacket. Good lord. The man was too sexy for his own good. No wonder all the women in the office wanted him.
And she’d gone and bet him she could play football? A full-contact sport?
This was either the worst or best idea ever.
Slipping
off one heel and then the other, Sarah stepped onto the field, the ice-cold grass crunching under her toes. “Okay, let’s do this.”
Ryan chuckled and shook his head. “You asked for it.”
“Yes, I did.” She slid off his jacket and set it on the grass with her heels. She backed up a few yards and grinned. “Show me what you’ve got, Coach Wright.”
He jogged a few yards off then stared her down, football clutched in his hands. Sarah couldn’t help but notice how his biceps bulged through his thin dress shirt. There was also something different in the way he was looking at her—a playfulness in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.
She gulped.
He lobbed the ball in her direction, and it soared perfectly into her hands. Tucking it to her chest, Sarah took off toward the end zone. Halfway down the field, though, she glanced back. Ryan stood where she’d left him, watching her with a dopey grin on his face.
Seriously?
She stopped and circled back, tossing the ball back to him.
“Um, while I commend your sportsmanship, that’s not quite how this works,” he said. “You need to run with the ball all the way to the end. Not give it back to me.”
“I wouldn’t give it back if we were actually playing. I’m pretty sure you skipped the part where you try to chase me down and tackle me.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You want me to tackle you?”
“Yes.”
“In that dress?”
Sarah looked down at herself. Whoops. “Okay, maybe just don’t let me win so easily.”
“Okay.” He motioned her to get back into position down the field. “Get ready.”
“I should warn you,” she called to him. “Before I fed the chickens in high school, I ran two miles each morning.”
“Noted.” Once again, he lobbed the ball in her direction. Knowing he’d follow, she grabbed the ball out of the air and ran as fast as she physically could in her dress. Ryan caught up a little too quickly for her liking, so she dodged right and then quickly faked a left, throwing him off just long enough to dash straight for the end zone.
Before she could celebrate victory, Ryan grabbed her waist and lifted her off the ground.
“I win, I win!” she shrieked between laughs.
Ryan gently put her down and she turned around, standing inches from him. “See? I wouldn’t have lost you a game,” she said, hugging the football.
“Nope,” he said, not moving from his spot.
Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was her pesky new football-player fantasy, but she stepped closer into his space. “Are you going to show me how you celebrated touchdowns? I’d love to see you do one of those funny dances players do.”
“I could do that.” He touched her cheek with his knuckle, letting it linger. “But I’d rather do this.”
He leaned down and brushed her lips with his. Just a simple touch of warm, soft skin that left her drifting forward.
And then it was over. Ryan pulled back, his eyes hooded, his gaze hypnotizing.
She clutched the football and blinked up at him, her mind swirling with a thousand thoughts. At the top of the list?
Holy crap. Ryan Wright just kissed me.
Followed quickly by, I want him to do it again.
No. Bad idea. Ryan was her colleague. Her friend. Kissing him would ruin everything. She’d have to quit her job because no way could she pretend like nothing happened, and it would hurt too much to see him, knowing a momentary lapse of judgment cost her their relationship.
She willed herself to step back…and failed.
What are you doing? You’re supposed to want Logan. You’re here, at this gala, for Logan.
But was she? When Ryan invited her, Sarah had been prepared to say yes before he even mentioned Logan. She’d never had as much fun with a guy in her life as she’d had with Ryan the past year. He was incredibly hot, apparently thought she was hot, and was by far one of the most thoughtful and charming men she’d ever met. He’d rescued a kitten at the expense of his arm, for God’s sake.
Did she mention he was hot?
Screw it. One more kiss—just a little one—wouldn’t hurt anything.
“Sarah, I’m sor—”
She spiked the ball and tugged Ryan back down. His immediate groan sent thrills skittering across her chest, and lower. His mouth fit over hers perfectly and, oh God, that only added to her desperation. She parted her lips, inviting him in, needing to taste him. She might die if she didn’t.
So much for a little kiss.
Ryan seemed to be on the same page. He pulled her against him, deepening their kiss, the feel of his tongue more addicting than she’d expected. She wrapped her arms around his neck and grabbed on to the back of his hair. That dragged another groan from somewhere deep in his chest, weakening her knees, but he was there. Clutching her closer. Running his hand up to her face, cupping her jaw, devouring her mouth—
A loud catcall yanked them apart. From up on the terrace, Jeff and Melanie and a half a dozen other couples stared down at them.
“Get a room!” Jeff called down.
Ryan stepped between her and the terrace, shielding her with his body. “Are you okay?”
Sarah stared at him. Was she okay? She’d just made out with her closest friend, and it was earth shattering. She might never be okay again.
Not that she could tell him that.
She cleared her throat. “Sure. I mean, we wanted to give your town something to talk about, right?” she asked in a shaky voice.
He frowned. “Yeah. I guess so. Thanks for taking one for the team.” He nodded to the school. “We should probably go back inside.”
“Right…go back inside…sure, good idea,” she mumbled. While she tried to slow her pulse to non-heart-attack levels, he jogged back to where they’d started and retrieved his jacket and her heels.
She touched a hand to her tingling lips. This was so not how she’d expected her night to turn out. Not at all. She needed to get back on track.
Which meant no more kissing Ryan Wright.
Chapter Eight
Sarah swiped her peppermint lip balm across her lips for the umpteenth time while waiting in the hotel lobby for Ryan.
He’d met her downstairs minutes earlier, looking all sexy GQ-casual in his dark-brown jacket, black cable sweater, and beige pants, damn him. They’d traded awkward good-morning pleasantries before he’d rushed out to retrieve his car. A nice gesture since this morning’s temperature was more seasonable for December. Still, she couldn’t help but worry last night had unsettled him even more than she’d feared.
After replaying their kiss in her mind all night, each time just as good as the last, she decided to blame her recent dating dry spell. She’d missed the feel and taste of a man, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.
But this wasn’t just any man.
It was Ryan.
Her friend.
And, not to forget, the guy she’d asked for help to get the attention of his best friend.
What was I thinking? I’m the worst person on the planet. She plopped down on a nearby sofa and buried her head in her hands.
Maybe she should use the drive back home to work on her resignation letter.
“You okay?”
She looked up to see Ryan standing in front of her, concern in his eyes. “I’m fine. Couldn’t be better,” she blurted out and jumped up. “I’m ready to hit the road. Maybe do some carpool karaoke. Britney Spears, here I come. Let’s go!”
Her cheeks flushed, embarrassed by her incessant babble. Oh, Sarah. Just stop talking.
Ryan grabbed her suitcase. She followed him out the glass door to where his BMW was now parked and slid on her black sunglasses to avoid direct eye contact. How was she going to survive the next two hours? What should she say? Maybe she could pretend she was sleeping.
As they drove out of the parking lot, Ryan played with the heat vents. “Is it warm enough?”
“It’s fine, thank you.” Oh
God. They were reduced to awkward small talk about the temperature in the car.
“How did you sleep?”
“Good,” she lied. “You?”
“Out like a light.”
Really? She searched his face for any sign that he was lying, too, but his relaxed expression gave nothing away. Was he not as preoccupied as she was by what had happened on the football field?
She’d barely slept a wink, replaying their kiss.
Heat crept up the inside of her turtleneck, and she pushed the car vent away from her. Their spontaneous make out had been hands down the hottest kiss of her life. However, when they went back into the gala, Ryan had acted like nothing significant had happened between them and, shortly after, drove them back to the hotel.
She’d wondered—okay, maybe hoped—that he’d kiss her good night, but he’d stopped at her room door, thanked her for joining him, and told her to sleep tight.
Yeah, right. As if that could’ve happened. There was no sleeping. Frustrated and confused, she’d flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling for hours, dissecting every minute of the evening leading up to their amazing kiss.
Sarah fiddled with the ring on her finger, not sure what to say. “Did you make it down to the breakfast buffet?”
“No. Are you hungry?” he asked. “We could stop somewhere if you’d like.”
And endure this painful conversation over pancakes? I don’t think so. “I’m good,” she said.
But after an hour of awkward small talk, she was far from good. There were too many what-ifs swamping her head for her to be good. Maybe she’d attacked his mouth, but Ryan was the one who’d initiated their kissing. Had he planned it?
Ryan pulled into a gas station and headed inside to grab snacks and pay.
Sarah thunked her head against the window. It didn’t matter if he’d planned to kiss her. Ryan Wright wasn’t looking for a relationship with anyone, despite his weird comment about being interested in someone like her. He’d made that point clear on several occasions.
She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Yes. She and Ryan were better off friends. He wasn’t part of her plan to win the heart of a man ready to settle down. Logan was whom she needed to focus on. He was smart, good-looking, and wildly successful. They’d be good together.
