Scoring With Santa: Book One in the Second Chance Series

by Theresa Roemer

  After class, she found Coach Charming shooting the shit with Jennie at the front desk. His hair looked wet around the edges, as if he’d just freshly showered and he’d changed into street clothes. In fact, he looked even more dapper than ever in his button down shirt and slacks.

  Though she had no right to be jealous, it immediately set her teeth on edge to see their heads bent together.

  “Oh! You know which one is really great?” Jennie leaned forward across the desk. “That South American restaurant, Americas, with the Gaudi-esque decor? Have you been there?”

  It was one of Brandy’s favorite lunch spots and it irritated the hell out of her to hear them making a lunch date there.

  Not. My. Business.

  Hopefully if she told herself that enough times it would sink in.

  Rick’s head lifted and he smiled at her. “There she is!”

  Please, just shut up.

  “I was just asking Jennie where you might like to go for lunch.”

  I’m sure you we— Wait... really? It was a pleasing idea for a nanosecond, but then she remembered why that would be impossible. Everyone in the gym would be talking about her and Mr. Eligible Bachelor. She’d be the talk of the town in no time. Besides, she hadn’t forgiven him for being a dickwad at practice.

  “That’s sweet, but I really can’t.”

  Rick’s expression grew serious. “There are a few things I really need to discuss with you. About the Christmas event.” Once again, she noted that he was no dummy. He clearly understood her desire to avoid gossip. “I just figured it would be easier at lunch, but if you prefer your office?” He gestured toward her office behind the front desk.

  No, it would be better to be in a restaurant with him than sitting in that glass-walled office where all her customers and employees could see.

  “You’re right, lunch would be better. I’ll go change my clothes and grab my purse.”

  She headed to the women’s locker room where she kept a spare set of clothes and changed swiftly into a skirt, blouse and sandals. She applied a dash of lipstick, then cursed herself for trying. This was not a date. Not even close.

  She met Rick at the front door and he smiled. He extended a hand like he was going to escort her with it at her back, but she stepped quickly ahead, swinging the glass door open too hard.

  She made the mistake of looking back at Rick, who appeared amused.

  Damn him, anyway.

  “Shall we take separate cars so you don’t have to return here afterward?” she suggested.

  His brow furrowed. “No, I don’t mind driving—”

  “I’ll drive,” she cut in crisply.

  Once more, he appeared amused. “I like a woman who drives,” he murmured.

  She scowled at him, flouncing to her eight-year-old Lexus SUV and hitting the door locks on her key fob.

  He climbed in the passenger side and adjusted the seat back as far as it went to accommodate his long legs. He seemed to fill the vehicle, and not just because he was large. His presence was so magnetic, so intoxicating. Just the fresh smell of soap on his skin reminded her of their shower and the harder she tried to push it out of her mind the more it loomed there, right in the forefront.

  That had been a mistake. A big one.

  She started the vehicle, then inwardly cursed as the car groaned when she eased out of the parking space. It had just started doing that, and she hadn’t had a chance to take it to the shop yet.

  “Sounds like your power steering is going.”

  “I know, I know. I need to take it to the shop.” She hated that she couldn’t keep up with her life. She also hated for anyone else to see that part of her. Yeah, she might have a trace of her mom’s perfectionism. The woman could write a five-page essay on the way the vacuum cleaner cord should be wrapped around the machine.

  He shifted, angling his legs toward her as she pulled out into traffic.

  The air between them became charged. Her skin tingled with his closeness.

  After a moment of silence, he said, “I screwed up. Royally.”

  Her breath hitched in her chest. She kept her eyes glued to the road, navigating traffic. Although it had sounded like a come on, the fact that Rick didn’t mind her driving said something about him. Justin had always insisted that the man was supposed to drive. If she did happen to be driving, her ex constantly made comments about female drivers and all the things they do wrong.

  She didn’t answer Rick, just waited for him to go on.

  “I…” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t want Sam to guess—you know—there was anything between us. And I wasn’t sure I could hide it. I mean, what happened Saturday night was... so hot.” He sounded almost in awe.

  Her heartbeat picked up speed, thudding against her ribs.

  “But I sort of gave you the brush-off, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to act like an asshole.”

  She wished she didn’t care so much, but his words sent syrupy warmth through her chest. It made sense. He had been trying to play it cool and he’d overplayed it.

  “Yeah, I don’t want Sam to suspect anything, either, but I didn’t expect you’d act like we’d never met.”

  “I know. I’m really sorry. It was a rookie move.”

  “But you’re not a rookie.” There was a challenge there, she supposed. Rick Morehouse was known for being a player and she wanted to hear what he had to say about it.

  * * *

  He loved the way Brandy kept his balls in a vise. He’d seen her icy exterior soften—suspected he was two-thirds of the way to forgiveness already, but he found her strong, assertive woman persona a total turn-on.

  Like the way she insisted on driving.

  “You’re right, I’m not a rookie. I’m just…” He hesitated. He didn’t often tell people about the not-so-pretty parts of his life. But Brandy deserved an explanation. “I’m touchy when it comes to kids. I actually don’t date single moms, as a rule.”

  Her eyebrows shot up and he feared he’d offended her so he rushed on, into his story. “I was raised by a single mom, and she dated a lot of men. I mean a lot of men. They would come into my life and then she’d kick them out, or they’d walk out. I got hurt a lot. Some of them I liked, and it broke my heart when they left. Some of them I hated and wanted to kick out the door myself. The point is, I don’t want to be that guy.”

  She pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant and looked over at him, her big blue eyes soft. “I’m sorry—that must’ve sucked.”

  He shrugged. “You know who was always there for me?”

  “Who?” Her pouty lips rounded into a circle on the oo in who. He wanted to kiss her.

  “My coach. Dale Dinsmore. That’s why I coach high school instead of college ball. Because that’s the guy I’m gonna be.”

  “That’s the guy you are.” Her voice was gentle. She’d forgiven him.

  Now he just had to make sure she was going to give him another chance. Because he’d been looking forward to their next encounter since the second their last one ended.

  He flashed a smile at her. “Shall we go eat?”

  “Sure.” She opened her door and swiveled her long, shapely legs out of the vehicle.

  He walked around to meet her, but, of course, she didn’t wait for him to shut her door. Their hands brushed and he reached to hold hers, but she shook him off. “This is business, remember? The last thing I need is for the press to start gossiping about us dating.”

  “I understand. Especially since we’re not dating.” At least they were on the same page with that part. It would be harder if she wanted to date and he had to let her down because of her kids.

  He managed to beat her to the door of the restaurant and held it open for her, loving the way her lips curved up into a sexy acknowledgement of the game they played. The restaurant was incredible, with tiled sloping walls, just like a Gaudi building in Barcelona. They sat near a window and she put her napkin on her lap.

  “Is that why
you don’t date?” he asked when they’d given their drink orders and the waitress had left a plate of plantain chips with an olive oil and lemon dip in the middle of the table. “Because of the kids?”

  She suddenly looked weary. It made him want to do everything he could to support her. “Partly, yes. Because when would I even have the time for a relationship? Any time not spent at the club is with my kids—it has to be.”

  “Of course,” he agreed.

  “My ex…” she started, then swallowed. “He needed a lot of attention. He liked me as a stay-at-home wife so I could be Mommy to him, too.” She spread her hands. “But this is my dream. I’ve always wanted to own my own club. In the end, he made me choose.”

  Rick’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Yeah, I can see why you wouldn’t want to rush into any kind of relationship after that experience. Not all men are like that, though.” He kicked himself. Why was he trying to convince her to date, when he couldn’t date her? What? Did he want her to date someone else?

  Oddly, he almost did. No, not someone else, but he wanted her to be happy, fulfilled. He wanted her to have a man willing to stand behind her and support her every step of the way. She deserved that.

  He wished it could be him.

  “Yeah, that’s what my friends say,” she said lightly. “But I still don’t have time, so it’s a moot point.”

  “Guess we’ll have to settle for a booty call now and then.”

  Her lovely lips curved into a smile. “I guess so.”

  “I promise not to act like a dick the next time I see you in front of your kids.”

  She laughed that husky laugh that made his entire body supercharge. “Thank you. So did you really have anything you wanted to talk to me about for the Fostering Christmas event?”

  “Yeah, I wanted to see what you think of my Ho-ho-ho.” He pitched his voice deeper on the ho-ho’s, attracting the curious stares from the people around them.

  She slapped his forearm, laughing. “Stop it.”

  “Well, I also wondered if you’re up for negotiating some naughty moments with Santa?”

  She licked a bit of the lemon oil off her fingertip, taking her time and making eyes at him. Her lips puckered around her fingertip and his cock grew hard. “Hmm... that might be possible. After the kids have left, of course.”

  He shifted in his seat to adjust his cock. “I’ll be looking forward to it.” Actually he was looking forward to something sooner. Like another Saturday night closing hookup.

  “Brandy, you’re a breath of fresh air.”

  She lifted a brow. “How so?”

  “You’re mature.” Gah—he bit his tongue when he realized he was insulting her. She probably had a few years on him. “I don’t mean age-wise. I mean emotionally. It was so easy for us both to lay out our situations and find a resolution.”

  She pursed her lips, a flirty smile still on her face. “That’s another reason I couldn’t date you.”

  “Why?”

  “Everyone would call me a cougar.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh please. You can’t be much older than I am. And you look younger.” He knocked his head with his fist. “You haven’t been thrown to the ground too many times like I have.”

  She laughed and sat back in her seat. “Well, thanks. I don’t believe in age, anyway.” She waved her hand as if they were talking about fairies or invisibility cloaks.

  Refreshing. As a professional ball player whose career had already ended, he could use a little of that philosophy himself. For a moment, the image of him growing old—or rather, not growing old with Brandy flashed in his mind. It was odd because he’d never pictured himself long-term with any woman, no matter what age or circumstance. What was it about this blonde vixen that made her seem so compatible?

  Something in the center of his chest ached.

  Too bad. In another life, she would be the one.

  Chapter Seven

  Brandy nibbled on her lip. It was Saturday night. They hadn’t made a date, but she’d be surprised if Rick didn’t show up. She’d told him it was the one night when she closed up and didn’t have to run home to the kids. She honestly wasn’t sure if she wanted him to come or not. Well, her body definitely wanted him to, but her brain kept screaming at her to pull back. This adventure wasn’t going anywhere. Yes, it was good sex, but even that was a distraction from the things she ought to be doing—like planning for the grand openings of her new stores.

  Even so, when one-half hour before closing, Rick’s hulking form appeared in the doorway, her heart did a double backflip of joy. He carried his gym bag and was dressed in workout clothes—an old T-shirt stretched across his muscled chest.

  All resistance disappeared when he stood in front of her. It was like her brain just checked out and her hormones took over. As proof, she tossed out a flirty smile. “Hey, Coach. You ready for your workout?”

  He gave her an up-and-down sweep of his eyes. “Are you going to be my trainer?”

  With her hands on her hips, she strolled around the counter and gave him a mock-critical examination. “Yep, I can whip you into shape.”

  The corners of his lips lifted. “Show me what you got.”

  Hardly anyone was left in the place, but she refrained from acting on the urge to slap him on the ass the way football coaches do. They would get frisky soon enough.

  They headed into the weight room.

  “Let’s start on the treadmill to warm up.” She set a timer for him and walked around the club, checking to see how many people remained. She heard sounds from the men’s locker room, and two women had just headed out of the women’s room, leaving for the night. One lady was on a stationary bike and two guys were running around the track. She willed them all to leave. Pronto.

  She ran Rick through the standard machines, dirty ideas about what they might do on each one crowding her brain. Despite the fact that he no longer played professional ball, he kept up his fitness as if he might be called back at any moment. Every muscle was defined, and he possessed a physical awareness she rarely witnessed. She didn’t even pretend not to ogle him, her eyes tracing his abs, the powerful quads, and when he turned around, his perfect gluteus maximus.

  Finally—finally—it appeared they were alone. She locked the front door after the last person left and switched off the lights in the main weight room, so they wouldn’t be seen through the wall of windows.

  “Is my workout over?” There was a suggestive lilt to his voice, the curve of his lips a sensual reminder of the commanding way he kissed.

  “Oh no. Not hardly. Get on the row machine.”

  He hadn’t even broken a sweat, yet, as far as she could tell. Not that she intended to provide him with a “real” workout. Or at least, she planned to get “real” with him in a different way. He sat down on it and gripped the handles while she adjusted the weights.

  Then she sauntered back and straddled him.

  His breath left in a whoosh, eyes darkening and going heavy-lidded. “Mmm, now this is the kind of workout I’ve been needing.” His cock hardened against the heat of her sex.

  She wiggled in place, rubbing her clit over the bulge in his gym shorts. She bit his ear. “Better start rowing,” she murmured with sexy warning in her voice.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He pulled the handles hard, yanking them both forward, too fast.

  She squealed and giggled, tightening her grip around his neck. His scent enthralled her, masculine and clean. “I lowered the weights since you’re pulling me, too.”

  “That’s good, I like playing Incredible Hulk.” He showed off his manly strength while she rocked her pelvis over his growing cock. She wore only a pair of thin stretch pants without panties and the friction against his bulge had her wet in seconds. Her breasts ached, nipples hardened against the fabric of her yoga top.

  He reached around and took the two handles in one fist, using the other to grip her ass and pull her even closer to his hips.

  “Ah, ah,” she scolded. “Both han
ds on the handles. I’m the trainer tonight.”

  He jumped and removed his hand, taking hold of the handle and rowing them even faster.

  She held onto his neck, giggling at the ride.

  She rather liked being in charge. Justin had never let her lead and before she’d met her ex, she’d been too young to even understand what a power exchange in sex play meant. As she considered what it meant for Rick to not use his hands, a wicked idea grew in her mind.

  “Have you ever done TRX, Rick?”

  “Hmm mm. But I’ve heard it’s good. I’m just old school.”

  “I want to show you the TRX studio. Why don’t you pop in the men’s locker room and take a quick shower, then meet me in there?”

  He hadn’t caught on yet to what was in store in the TRX room, and the amiable if slightly puzzled expression on his face had her stifling a laugh. He picked up his gym bag, which they’d never bothered putting in the locker room and headed down the hall to the men’s locker room.

  While he showered, she grabbed a few things from her office and went into the TRX room. She flicked on the closet light, just to give the room an ambient glow. Ropes hung from hooks in the ceiling for suspension training.

  Rick didn’t make her wait long. Within a few minutes, he walked in wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, his muscled chest still glistening with moisture.

  Yum. She wouldn’t mind looking at that sight every day for the rest of her life.

  She walked over to one set of ropes and stood beneath it. “Okay, I need you to stand right here.”

  He ambled over, the curious but game little smile still tugging at his lips.

  I so love this guy.

  Wait—where did that thought come from? Love and Rick should not be considered in the same sentence. This was a booty call. A hookup. Nothing more.

  “Now hold your arms over your head.”

  His smile was lascivious. Hungry. Thrilled. He held her eyes and slowly reached his arms over his head.

  Aaaand, she couldn’t reach. Because he was hella tall.

  “Hang on just a second,” she breathed and ran to the closet for one of the stools used in step class.