Play for Keeps

by Maggie Wells

  His eyes widened, then narrowed. “He was an ass.”

  Millie nodded. “Ancient history.” She brushed the subject of her brief stint as wife and possible mother away with an impatient flick of her fingers. “Karma kicked in not long after. I tried not to get pregnant, but instead, I got cancer. At least I beat it. I’m grateful for that.” She forced a quick smile, but it felt like a grimace. “I wish I could say I regret the choices I’ve made, but I don’t. Not really. Cancer or no, I can honestly say I don’t think I ever wanted to have a baby.”

  “There’s no law saying you have to want kids.”

  A bitter little laugh popped out. “Yeah right. Maybe not for men, but women…” She trailed off, her gaze fixed on the gently undulating water in the pool. “Anyhow. I like kids.” She flashed a wary smile. “I mean, I’m not an ogre.”

  “Not at all green.”

  Gathering her courage, she dragged her attention from the pool and met his gaze. “I may not have wanted to have a baby, but I do think I’d make a fairly decent stepmother.” He looked so taken aback by the assertion, she rushed into the breach. Unfortunately, the only words she could conjure were the debates still echoing in her head. “Not like Carol Brady good, but maybe like Julia Roberts in the movie with Susan Sarandon.”

  “Stepmother?” He sat up so fast she would have toppled off the edge of the chair if he hadn’t grabbed her. Incredulity etched into every line in his handsome face, he searched her eyes. “Did you just propose to me?”

  “Well, no,” she said, her mind reeling. “I mean, yes. Maybe.” Frustrated, she stopped searching for the right thing to say and let her thoughts run loose. “I’m not proposing we get married so much as you let me do this with you. Be with you.” He didn’t respond, which did nothing to stem the flow of babble. “That is, if you and Mari—”

  “There will never be a ‘me and Mari’ again,” he said gruffly. Then he gave her a little shake as if testing to see if she was real. “I’m only interested in me and you. Haven’t I been telling you from the start?”

  A tremulous smile quirked her lips, but she wasn’t exactly positive if they were running on the same track. “So you think we can still have a you and me?”

  He huffed a laugh of disbelief. “Are you kidding? As long as you’re okay with you and me and baby making three, then yes. Hell yes.” He gave her one more shake, then hauled her against his chest like she were no more than a rag doll. “Yes. God yes,” he murmured as he rained kisses on her neck, jaw, and cheek.

  “I don’t know how to do this parenthood thing, Millie. To tell the truth, I’d pretty much given up on it ever happening and made my peace.” He took a shaky breath, then pressed his cheek against hers so his lips were at her ear. “I sure as hell never wanted to do it this way, but if this way is the only way, then I want you with me. I need you.”

  A shudder ran through her, but it wasn’t fear or dread. No, the adrenaline pulsing through her veins was laced with anticipation. “I need you too.”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you, Millie,” he whispered in her ear. “But you’re going to have to buy me a big, fat ring.”

  She laughed, all the worry and tension flowing out of her on a shiver once his lips found the pulse in her throat. “I really wasn’t proposing.”

  “Then maybe I’ll have to do the honors.” She heard his deep inhale as he forced himself to pull away. “Millie, will you—”

  She silenced him with a single finger pressed to his lips. “Always pushing,” she chided. “Let’s table the marriage talk for one day soon and figure out how we’re going to handle the other stuff first.”

  A stubborn frown stole over his features. “Nuh-uh. Answer me now. We can set a date later.”

  She pursed her lips as she took his measure and reviewed her options. Ty knew what she was doing and called her out.

  “Oh, come on. All I’m asking for is a simple yes or no. Everything else we can negotiate, but you have to give me this much now.”

  Tickled by the determinedly mulish set of his jaw, she leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to the muscle ticking below his ear. “Yes,” she whispered. “Good press or bad. Babies or no babies, yes. But I get to choose my own pizza toppings.”

  “Deal.” He kissed her hard and fast to seal the bargain.

  “And you proposed, so I get the big, fat ring.”

  He nodded once. “Done.”

  Resting her head against his chest, Millie smiled as she listened to the steady thud of his heart. She loved the constancy of the beat. Strong. Unhesitating. If any man embodied the term wholehearted, it was Tyrell Ransom. And he loved her. That oh-so-dependable heart was hers. And it came wrapped up in the pretty package of one utterly delectable man.

  She smiled at him. Every inch of her body was trembling with cold and excitement, but her grin never faltered. He was looking at her as if she’d swished the winning basket in a national championship. She needed to tell him she loved him. She wanted him to know how much having him in her life had changed her. More than anything, she ached to ask him to take her to bed.

  But when she opened her mouth, none of those things came out.

  “I’m scared shitless.”

  He barked a laugh. The sound of it carried out into the night beyond the patio lights. “Me too.”

  She made no move to pull away. For once in her life, she wasn’t trying to finagle a little space or planning an exit strategy. Staying put felt good. Damn good. “Tomorrow, we’ll figure out the angle and plan our attack on life.”

  “Okay.”

  Realization struck. Angling her head back, she peered up at him, squinting to make out his features in the dim light. “You know I love you, right?” The declaration came fast and breathy, but at least she got the words out. At last.

  His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “Took you a damn long time to figure it out.”

  Unperturbed by his cockiness, she burrowed back into his embrace. “You love me too.”

  “I guess we’re even.”

  Reassured, she hugged him harder, hoping to steal some of his body heat. “I’m also cold.”

  “Me too,” he whispered, brushing a kiss over the top of her head.

  “I wonder if we can be clueless and scared but warm in your bed.”

  “Maybe.”

  Heaving a reluctant sigh, she peeled herself away and stood, offering her hand to him. His fingers were cool but still warmer than hers. She heard the pop in his knees and Ty’s quiet groan of pain as he rose from the low-slung chair and made a mental note to kiss those creaky knees once she had him at her mercy.

  “Let’s get inside.” Ty allowed her to pull him toward the sliding doors but stopped short. When she slid him a questioning glance, he only ducked his head and shuffled his ginormous feet.

  “What?”

  “I locked myself out,” he confessed in a low voice.

  Not sure she’d heard him right, she cocked an ear in his direction. “What?”

  “The door. I must have accidentally hit the thumb lock when I came out here. Mike has a spare set of keys. I was going to call him to come let me in, but…” He let the rest trail off, then stepped forward to cup a hand to the glass. “My phone’s inside.”

  Shaking her head in disbelief, Millie moved to the door and peered through the treated glass into the darkened great room. The television flickered, casting its eerie, blue-white glow over the empty armchair. Sure enough, she picked out the rectangular shape of a cell phone perched on the arm.

  “Why did you come out here?”

  He shrugged. “Chambers was yammering on NSN. The house was empty. I’m having a kid with a woman I don’t love, and I couldn’t even call the woman I do love.” He pursed his lips as if deciding if he’d covered everything. “I guess I needed some air.”

  She studied him. “Have you had enough?”
>
  “Enough what?”

  “Air? Sulking? Self-flagellation?”

  “Can anyone ever get enough self-flagellation?”

  His quick response made her grin. “Nope.”

  “But I would like to go inside. With you,” he said, his expression earnest. “If you’ll let me borrow your phone, Mike isn’t too far from here.”

  Millie snorted derisively. “We don’t need Mike.”

  “We don’t?”

  She gestured to her feet. “I have the perfect footwear geared to breaking and entering. Sturdy but stylish.” She pursed her lips and studied the house before heading toward the slope along the side. “You never close the bedroom window, but it’s too high for me to reach. I’m gonna need something, or someone, tall to climb, but I can get in.”

  Ty chuckled as he followed her to the side of the house. Stopping under the partially open bedroom window, he stooped and made a cradle out of his hands. “Never thought I’d be helping someone break into my own house.”

  “Yeah, well, I never thought I’d be so hard up as to seduce an innocent single dad, but here we are.” She placed her hands on his shoulders for balance and looked him straight in the eye. “Thank God the alarm is disarmed. I’m in no mood to play spin doctor tonight.”

  “How about plain old doctor?” he asked as she took a practice bounce on the ball of her foot.

  “Okay, but I hope you’re up for a super-invasive examination. Possibly stirrups.”

  He snickered but held steady. “Who said you get to be the doctor?”

  “Because I’ll be the one controlling the locks.” She pressed a quick smacking kiss to his lips, then flexed her knee. “Ready? Here we go.”

  Millie pinwheeled her arms as she flew into the air like a circus acrobat. Grabbing hold of the windowsill, she yanked at the screen one handed. “This looks so much easier on TV.”

  Ty pivoted to position himself under her. Seconds later, she felt him pressing up on the soles of her boots. She glanced down as the pressure on her straining arm muscles eased. He had her. And together, they could handle anything. Even custom windows with screens that fit like a glove.

  The corner of the window screen popped free from its frame. Millie wrested the remainder from the tracks with a growl of triumph. Ty’s voice floated up to her.

  “This is turning me on. Is that wrong?”

  “Not at all. I’m the hottest cat burglar in town.” With another grunt, she leveraged the window up as far as it would go. “Doing okay?”

  He peered straight up her legs. “Best view ever.”

  Millie chuckled as she adjusted her hold on the sill. “And I’m not even wearing a skirt.”

  “In my mind, you are.”

  “Get ready to push, big guy. I can see the bed, and I want in.”

  “Tell me you love me, Millie.”

  She scoffed. “Now is not the—”

  “Tell me.”

  “God, you play dirty,” she hissed down at him.

  “I play for keeps. Now, tell me you love me, Millie, then crawl your fine ass through my bedroom window. I have sixteen fantasies playing out,” he said through gritted teeth. “They all start the same.”

  Millie couldn’t help but smile. His stubborn streak was almost as wide as hers. They were going to have a damn good time together. “I love you, Ty.”

  “And you’re in.”

  He thrust her up and through his window with a growl that seemed to come straight from his soul. Her palms hit hardwood. She tucked her head and rolled, coming up into a neat little crouch worthy of a Hollywood stunt double. “Damn, I’m good at this,” she whispered to herself.

  As if he could read her mind, Ty shouted up from the grass below. “Stop plotting your life of crime and let me in.”

  Millie casually strolled through the main floor, then sauntered down the steps to the lower level. She could see his shadow looming beyond the wall of glass. He rapped impatiently on the slider, but she took her time, stalking toward him like a cat picking out her every step.

  “Hurry up.”

  “So impatient,” she murmured, then blew him a kiss through the smoked glass. “What’s the password?”

  “Headline News,” he retorted.

  “Nope.”

  “TMX,” he said, giving the glass another sharp tap.

  “Z,” she corrected. “It’s TMZ, and no. That’s not the password.”

  Ty’s chest heaved as he let his curled hands fall helpless to his sides. “I love you?”

  Millie unlatched the lock but slid the door open only enough to show her face. “Try again. This time like you mean it.”

  “I love you,” he repeated, his gaze unwavering. “Now, if you don’t let me take you to bed, we’re going to give the world something really newsworthy.”

  She smirked. “I like a man who thinks highly of himself.” He pushed through the door, slid it shut behind him, and flipped the lock. “Ooh! So forceful and commanding.”

  Ty snickered as he dipped a shoulder and threw her over his back in a firefighter’s hold. “And I like a woman who knows when to be quiet.”

  Millie laughed as he started for the stairs. “Well, maybe one day, you’ll meet a nice girl.”

  “One can always hope. Until then, I guess I’m stuck with you.”

  “You are.” Millie spread greedy hands over the ridged muscles in his back. “And I plan on holding you hostage for a while, my handsome Coach Ransom.”

  For more Love Games

  check out book one in the series

  Love Game

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  Keep reading for an excerpt of

  With her feet spread wide and her lucky clipboard clutched tight to her chest, Coach Kate Snyder tipped her head back and gazed at the scoreboard suspended over center court. She didn’t need to check the display to know they were up a mere three points in these final seconds, but superstition kept her chin up and her eyes locked on the garish display.

  She never watched the last play of the game.

  The LED display exhorted the crowd to “MAKE SOME NOISE.” The timer switched over from minutes and seconds to seconds split down to hundredths. Her heart beat as hard as the sneakers pounding hardwood.

  Without looking, she knew the opposing team’s point guard was driving the ball down court with little impediment. Kate’s players wouldn’t risk a foul at this point. The Wolcott University Women Warriors played smart. They weren’t about to give up any free shots. She’d made it clear she’d prefer to play it out in overtime rather than witness her Warriors exhibiting any self-defeating behavior.

  Guard the perimeter. Make them shoot for the tie. Keep it out of the hot hands of the other team’s lethal power forward. These were the key points she’d driven home in their final time-out. Now, she had to trust her team to execute. The increase in noise level told her their defensive strategy was working.

  A collective gasp signaled the Huskies had finally succeeded in getting the ball to their shooter. The roar of blood in her ears muffled the mixture of cheers and groans. Two and three-tenths seconds left on the clock.

  Then, a sharp slap shattered the preternatural calm. Cheers erupted into unchecked screams. Kate heard the lazy thump-thump-thump of a loose ball and tuned in just in time to see the basketball bounce to a roll, heading for the other end of the court.

  The buzzer sounded and the bench emptied.

  Staring up at the screen, hoping for a replay, Kate allowed herself to be carried along on a swell of people. Assistants and trainers pummeled her shoulders and back. Three of her senior starters enveloped her in sweaty, tearful hugs. Reporters tried to muscle their way into the throng, but her Warrior Women formed a wall around her.

  A stepladder was set up under the home team’s basket. They moved toward it in a clump of jubilation. Someone p
lunked a hat atop her head. One persistent reporter snaked a microphone through the mass of bodies, but the question was lost in the shuffle. Kate kicked her pumps off at the foot of the ladder and started to climb. One step, two. She’d been able to touch the cool, smooth iron of an orange-painted rim since she was fifteen, but the sensation never grew old. Perching a hip on the highest step, she reached for the gleaming gold-plated scissors her boss, Wolcott University Athletic Director Mike Samlin, passed up to her.

  Security tried in vain to herd the players toward center court, but it was no use. They weren’t moving until the net came down. Reporters continued to thrust their microphones in her direction, though how they’d isolate her answers in the cacophony of celebration, she’d never know. Still, she answered one inane question for each loop of nylon she cut through.

  Snip. How big a role did strategy play in their victory?

  She bit back the first sarcastic answer that sprang to mind. Her friend and university public relations guru, Millie Jensen, would be so proud. “Like flattery, strategy will get you everywhere,” she called down to the milling crowd. “You can’t win if you don’t know how you’re going to play.”

  Snip. “Yes, I am incredibly proud of these young women.”

  Snip, snip. “God yes, I’ll miss these seniors. We’ve been through a lot of battles together.”

  Already impatient to move on to the trophy ceremony, she started hacking at the loops on the far side of the hoop. Snip, snip, snip.

  “Of course we expected a fight out of the Huskies,” she answered, trying to hide her irritation with a wide smile. “This is the championship game. We wanted a fight.”

  She pretended not to hear the garbled questions coming at her as she worked her way around the rim. There’d be a press conference immediately following the presentation of the trophy. They could wait until then to pepper her.

  Mike Samlin beamed at her from his spot at the foot of the ladder. As he should. They’d done it. The Wolcott Warriors were the NCAA Women’s Basketball champions again. Their boosters would be ecstatic. Alumni donations would roll in fast and furious. At least, for a little while. They’d gain a smidge more respect in the conference and leverage within the NCAA as a whole.