Scoring

by Kristin Hardy

  More. It drummed through her in frustration. The light touches only ignited cravings she didn’t want to have. She tried to think of all the reasons she had for keeping her distance from Mace Duvall, even as need began a slow twist in her gut. If she let her treacherous body take over, it was just like handing him the reins.

  Becka cast about to remember just why it mattered but only wound up getting lost in the heat of his body against hers, the tantalizing pressure that made her wonder what it would feel like to have him naked on top of her, inside her. She shifted against him, her arms coming around his neck. A puff of breeze came through the window.

  Mace brushed along her jaw, sampled the softness of her earlobe, but always he journeyed back to her lips. Her mouth was addictive, he thought, like an irresistible dessert. One taste drew him back for another, and another. He could feel the heat simmering in her as she tried to bank it back, as she tried to ignore what he was doing to her. It made it all the more enticing to tempt her, to savor that full lower lip like it was taffy, warm and sweet.

  He smiled inwardly when he felt her mouth begin to respond to his, moving to kiss him back. He liked knowing he could take her beyond where she wanted to be, lure her into forgetting and giving herself up to the moment.

  Still, it strained his patience, and Mace thought of himself as a patient man. The brushing kisses amused him and aroused him, but they weren’t what he wanted. What he craved, in a low, insistent throb, was the taste of her, dark and sinfully rich. He licked at her lips, savoring the flavor, enjoying the soft catch of her breath.

  Then she flamed into desire, with a swift completeness that took him utterly by surprise. He was like the boy who throws gasoline on a fire only to see it explode beyond any imagining, beyond anything he can control. Her mouth was molten against his, her body hot and straining. His own desire billowed up to match as he dove into the textures of her, the firm, impatient lines of her body. Her fingers sliding under the belt of his jeans sent him to the edge of control.

  There was a tapping sound in the hall, but he couldn’t surface enough to process it. He couldn’t get beyond the greedy temptation that was Becka. The rhythmic clunking sounded almost like steps, almost like…

  “This is the last box.” Mallory’s voice drifted in from the living room. “Are you going to make another trip?”

  They broke apart, breathing hard. Becka blinked dazedly, touching her lips with her fingertips. Then her eyes cleared and she bolted upright, shooting a baleful look at Mace.

  “Guys? Where are—whoops!” Mallory jumped back from the bedroom door just as Becka got up from the mattress. “Sorry, didn’t realize I was interrupting your, uh…” She paused delicately, her amusement only slightly suppressed.

  “Actually, your timing is perfect.” Becka walked out of the room, grabbing Mallory by the arm and pulling her out toward the hallway. “I’ve got a couple more things in the car. Help me out?”

  “No offense, I mean, I hardly know you, but are you out of your mind, walking out on a guy like that?” Mallory asked.

  “I’m out of my mind to get near him, more like.”

  “Yeah, right. Your eyes still haven’t focused, you know.”

  It fried her to think that she’d been clawing at Mace like an actress in a bad porn film. “He’s a jerk.” Becka slammed the screen door open and stomped onto the porch. “He can’t commit to anything, not even a job. He’s here twenty-four hours and he wants to quit. He’s had so many women in his bed it’s probably got one of those take-a-number thingies like they have at the deli installed on the headboard.” She clattered down the steps. “I just broke up with a creep a couple months ago. The last thing I need to do is get involved with another one.”

  “Who says you need to get involved?” Mallory asked as they crossed the parking lot. “You said he’s ready to leave. Go for recreation. If it’s been months since the creep, you can probably use it. And it’s not like Loverboy will mind, judging by the way he looks at you.”

  Becka unlocked her trunk and turned to her. “You always jump into people’s lives like this when you’ve just met them?” she asked without heat, grabbing her VCR.

  Mallory pulled the last box from the car. “I’m a bartender, Becka. Most of the time I’m trying to do anything I can to stay out of people’s lives.”

  Becka grinned, then turned to see Mace coming out of the house. Oh, and didn’t she just itch to wipe that smirk off his face? She was very clear about what she did and didn’t want. She wanted to focus on her job and not do anything to jeopardize her chances of staying on, like sleeping with a member of the team. She didn’t want to sleep with another womanizer who seemed to have made it his mission in life to get her into bed.

  She didn’t want to want him as much as she did.

  “You all set to go pick up another load?” Mace asked, eyeing her assessingly.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got it under control.”

  Mace gave the tiny Toyota a glance of disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

  “Never turn down help on moving day,” Mallory put in helpfully.

  Becka looked from one to the other. “What is this, tag team wrestling?”

  Mace stuck a tongue into his cheek. “Threesomes aren’t my bag, thanks.”

  “And you’re not my bag.”

  Mallory gave her a look. “You need the help, Becka. Why turn it down? It’s not like you have to sleep with the guy just because he helps you.” She turned to Mace with a brilliant smile. “Is it?”

  “I’m willing to entertain other offers.”

  “See? Take the help.”

  They were right, Becka thought resignedly. If she hoped to finish the move today, she needed a bigger vehicle and she did need help. Much as it made her teeth hurt to think about taking a favor from Mace, it was senseless to pretend otherwise. She gave him a wary look. “What is this going to cost me?”

  “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered as she locked her car.

  6

  BECKA SQUINTED at the early-morning sun, wishing she’d remembered her sunglasses. The metronomic thud of her footfalls on the surface of the UMass Lowell track soothed. The hint of coolness in the air made every breath cleansing, even as the relaxation of physical effort began to filter through her body. She knew some people swore by biofeedback or meditation, but for her running was the thing. Whatever stress she felt melted away as she pushed her body to exhaustion. Becka lengthened her stride until she felt loose and fluid.

  If only her mind felt the same way.

  Mace Duvall… The man was making her crazy. It wasn’t a problem that he was stubborn—she was more than stubborn enough to match. The problem was that no matter how much he ticked her off, her body kept betraying her. One of them, she could fight against. Fighting both of them was beginning to get exhausting. Okay, maybe it had been a while since she’d had sex, and maybe the man had a fabulous body and eyes a woman could drown in. She should still have some self-control.

  For him, of course, it was about proving a point, winning a battle of wills. If she’d said yes, he wouldn’t have given her a second thought. Only the fact that she was saying no made her memorable.

  Of course, innate honesty forced her to admit it was her own fault that she was having to think about him at all. He’d been halfway out the door a few days before. She should have just let him go, she thought, shaking her head at herself. She should encourage him now. It would be a relief.

  Except for the disappointed players she’d have to face.

  That was where the problem came in. Right now, the team was winning. It didn’t matter whether Duvall was actually improving their hitting or not. The important thing is that they thought he was. He didn’t realize the effect his disappearance could have. All it would take was a few more days for him to finish out his assignment. He could quit after and they’d never know.

  Becka grimaced. The problem was t
hat just a few more days might be enough to put her over the brink. Most of that time the team would be on the road, though, which would make it easier. Then Duvall would head out and it would be history.

  All she had to do was hold out until then.

  Far across the field, another runner hit the track and began to stretch. Becka frowned as she reached the far turn and began curving back. She’d known the privacy of having the track to herself, even at the crack of dawn, was too good to last. Seconds passed as she drew near enough to register that it was a man, the lines of his body vaguely familiar. Then she drew closer still and recognition flooded through her.

  It was Mace Duvall.

  She cursed fluently under her breath as he straightened to watch her approach. She thought she caught the gleam of a self-satisfied smile.

  “Beautiful morning for a run, Florence,” he said as she neared and he broke into a run alongside her.

  “Well, isn’t this a coincidence,” she observed brightly. “You always hang around tracks at six in the morning?”

  “I heard you talking to Stats yesterday about your runs so I figured I’d check it out. How’s the battle of the boxes going?”

  She made a face. “They were still there when I woke up this morning. Looks like the magic elves had the night off again.”

  “Life in the real world just sucks sometimes, don’t it?”

  “Moving sucks. ’Course, probably not for you. You’re all primed to hit the road.”

  He slanted a look at her. “If you want me gone so bad, then why do you care?”

  “I care because of the team. For reasons that escape me, it means a lot to Sammy and the guys to have you around. They think you’re the reason they’re winning and I don’t want to mess with that.”

  He chuckled, the sound low in his throat. “Are you sure that’s it? You sure you’re not starting to get a little bit of a soft spot for me, Florence?”

  “Oh sure, I’ll cry on my pillow every night after you leave, Duvall. I’ll send you pictures.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Now that could be interesting. Do you sleep in the buff?”

  She had a sudden vivid fantasy of being in bed with him, naked, the sheets twined around them, the two of them twined around each other. “In flannel up to my chin.”

  “Seems a little hot for summer,” he said thoughtfully. “Always did like unwrapping presents, though.”

  A little bolt of desire flicked through her. “Who said I was yours to unwrap?”

  “Dangerous stuff, Florence, tempting fate. Who knows what the next few days will bring?”

  “So you’re sticking around.” Annoyance warred with triumph and won. It was in her voice and she knew Mace could hear it as well.

  “You don’t seem to know what you want, do you?” His lazy amusement made her grit her teeth. “One minute you’re ticked off at me for running out, the next minute you’re ticked off at me for staying. You seem a little confused.”

  “I’m not confused at all, Duvall. I know exactly what I want.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?” He unzipped his warmup jacket and tossed it to the grass at the side of the track. The sweat-damp T-shirt underneath was just tight enough to make her aware of the body under it.

  “I…” She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it. She wanted him to leave so she’d be rid of the aggravation of having him around. She wanted him to stay, though, only for the team. Going to bed with him would be absolutely the dumbest thing she could do. Entertaining as it might be, it was a complication she didn’t need, and she was not about to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d won.

  Then she remembered the feel of his mouth, hard and hot on hers as the length of his body pressed her into the mattress. Entertaining probably wouldn’t do it justice. Astounding, more like it.

  “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

  She threw him a dirty look. “Not at all. I just don’t see this as a necessary conversation. You’re going to do what you’re going to do. It’s not up to me to push you either way.”

  “But you already have.”

  She snorted. “Don’t put your decisions on me.”

  “You’re the reason I’m sticking around.”

  “And the moon is made of green cheese. Duvall, I get the feeling you don’t do anything that’s not exactly what you want.”

  “That’s true,” he said thoughtfully. “Currently, what I want is you.”

  Becka would have huffed if she weren’t already out of breath. “Didn’t we have this conversation already?” She looked over at him.

  That predatory gleam flashed in his eyes for an instant. “I’m a patient man.”

  “And I’m running out of patience. New topic, Duvall.”

  “Okay,” he said equably, “let’s talk about you.”

  “That’s an old topic. I’m sure you can come up with something more interesting. What about one of your ex-fiancées? Just what does Megan Barnes really wear at home in the evenings when she’s not at premieres?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” he said blandly. “That one was a figment of a tabloid reporter’s imagination. I’m more interested in you,” he said, ignoring her short laugh. “I think you’re all kinds of an interesting puzzle. How did you wind up a sports trainer, for instance?”

  Becka looked at him. “Twenty questions?”

  “You were the one who wanted to change subjects,” he reminded her.

  Becka moved her shoulders. “I don’t know. My dad coached basketball. I had five sisters. Hanging around the gym with him and being his gofer was the only way I could get any time alone with him. I guess I just got used to it.”

  “Turned you into a gym rat?”

  “Track rat, more like.”

  “You ever compete?”

  “For a while.” She shrugged. “I made all-state in high school. Somewhere around my junior year in college I just stopped moving up. I guess you could say I hit my talent ceiling.” She looked at the river that ran along across the field, staring across it to the ballpark that lay beyond. “I just wasn’t top-tier at an international level. No Olympics.” The words still stung slightly, even after all these years. “You don’t know what it’s like, realizing that you just don’t have the stuff to do the job.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Bleakness shaded his words, then he shook his head. “So I don’t get it. Why not just get out, leave it behind?” He stripped loose the Velcro of his tear-away warmup pants and tossed them next to his jacket as they circled the track.

  Becka shrugged. “I love athletics. Maybe I didn’t have the stuff, but I can still help someone who does.”

  “That’s what Sammy thinks I can do.” His tone clearly said he doubted it.

  Becka stepped up her pace. “It means something to do that, to help the team excel. I guess I don’t understand why you can’t see the value in it. I mean, you had the good times. You were at the top for ten years. That’s more than most people get their whole lives.”

  “We can’t all be as evolved as you are.” He cursed under his breath. “Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.”

  “It’s okay.” They ran in silence for a few seconds, letting the conversation settle in. Finally, Becka spoke. “It wasn’t easy for me at the time. It’s still tough, and it’s been years now. And I never had the big game to give up.” She hesitated. “I guess I haven’t really been thinking what it’s like for you.”

  Maybe that was his problem, Mace thought. He’d had too much time to think about what he’d lost instead of going on with what he still had. Still, he didn’t need her sympathy any more than he needed a sympathy job from the organization. “I’ll live,” he said briefly. A nice, simple affair was one thing. Letting someone inside his head was another. Instead, he changed the subject. “So why aren’t you at a university?”

  Becka laughed. “I should be so lucky. University spots don’t fall off trees, you know.” She ran quietly for a few seconds. “Before I got this job, I wa
s at an HMO working on weekend warriors and volunteering at Boston College in between. I’m hoping this will turn into bigger and better things.”

  “It’s a little unusual, a woman trainer on a men’s team.”

  “Why?” She brushed an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. “Women have the same qualifications as men in this field.”

  “You just don’t see it very often. Maybe it’s the whole thing of having a woman in the locker room.”

  She hooted. “Trust me, Duvall, there’s no equipment dangling in that locker room that I haven’t seen before.”

  “All those young studs covered in steam and wearing just a towel don’t do it for you?”

  “It takes more than young boys to do it for me.”

  “Me, I’m all man, sugar,” he said with a broad grin.

  “Thanks, I’ll pass.”

  “So you keep saying, but I think you’re warming up to me. You haven’t told me to go to hell once today.”

  “The day’s still young, Duvall.”

  They circled the track a few times in a surprisingly companionable silence. Gradually, Mace’s pace began to slow.

  “Hey, you’re falling behind there,” she chided with a sideways glance. “You don’t want people to think you—” The words clogged up in her throat. For the first time, she noticed the ugly red tracery of scars that crisscrossed his left thigh, running up under his shorts. “Your accident,” she breathed.

  “Yeah.” They ran on in silence for a few yards.

  “What happened?”

  “Surely as much as you’ve followed my personal life in the paper you must have read about it.” Tight with effort, his voice didn’t quite make it to flip.

  “Car accident, right?”

  “Semi truck, but you’re more or less right.”

  “What happened?”

  “Run off the road into a bridge.” He said it as though it was something that he’d seen in a movie. “Worse than what’s happened to some people, better than others.”