Scoring With Santa: Book One in the Second Chance Series

by Theresa Roemer

  “No. You redeemed yourself, just like I knew you would. And my pal Blake from Texas A&M was there. He told me he’ll be paying you a visit tomorrow morning.”

  Donnie pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! Are you serious? You’re not kidding around with me, are you?”

  He laughed. “I’m not kidding. Make sure you’re up and showered with a shirt and tie when he comes by.”

  “I will,” Donnie said, his eyes darting over toward his mom.

  “Go tell her the good news. She’ll be proud of you.”

  “Thanks,” he gushed, coming in for a man-hug, thumping Rick on the back.

  Rick smiled as he walked jauntily away.

  The door swung open and a statuesque blonde walked through it. He wasn’t the only one whose head swiveled to take her in. She looked like a model or Hollywood actress—like Christie Brinkley or Paris Hilton.

  His heart flip flopped in his chest—unsure of which way to go. Brandy had come.

  He hadn’t expected her but she’d been on his mind non-stop. He’d been pissed about the article, and he was pretty sure his decision to cool things off with her was right, but he still missed her like a son-of-a-bitch.

  And here she was—beautiful. Leggy. Sinfully smart, capable and oh-so-sexy.

  Her smile faltered just a little when she saw him, and even though he was still resolved, his chest tightened.

  Her kids took off for the games, leaving her unshielded. She drew her shoulders back and lifted her beautiful chin, marching over.

  “Congratulations.” The air between them rippled with tension.

  He honestly wasn’t sure how to play this. He settled for “Thanks.”

  “I know I already texted you, but I’m sorry about the article in The Chronicle and the trouble it caused. One of my besties writes for the paper and I had shared how wonderful I think you are.”

  He might not have believed her, except her cheeks colored slightly when she said it.

  “She asked if she could print it and…” she pushed her moon-pale hair from her eyes, “I just didn’t think. I didn’t see any harm it could do. I made a huge mistake.”

  He relaxed. She hadn’t betrayed him. This was forgivable. But it didn’t mean he should open the door back up to their relationship, or anti-relationship, as the case may be. It took great self-control to keep from touching her, but somehow he managed. “No hard feelings. It all worked out. At least I think it did. I haven’t heard whether I’ll be fired, but considering my principal and super are both here and no one has kicked me out yet, I’m probably okay.”

  Brandy’s eyes turned mournful. “That column was so stupid—”

  “Don’t give it any more thought. It doesn’t deserve it. The Coral Heights players are cheating bastards who will obviously stoop to anything to win. But we just played our best and won.”

  It all sounded great, so why did he feel so sick? It was from the hurt he read on Brandy’s face. She’d registered his brush-off, the same as she’d noticed it after the first clinic. And it nearly killed him to think he was causing that hurt.

  “Well,” she said, blinking rapidly. “I’ll let you get back to your celebration.”

  He took another sip of beer to stop himself from wrapping an arm around her waist and telling her she was the only woman for him.

  “Thanks.” His voice sounded so hollow.

  Dr. Perricone interrupted the unhappy scene. “Hello, Brandy.” He leaned in to give her a polite cheek kiss.

  They knew each other? Oh yeah, her ex had been sitting with him at the game.

  “I understand you sent Justin over to give me a little legal counsel on our favorite coach.” He thumped Rick on the back while smiling at Brandy.

  Rick’s skin went cold. What was this?

  Brandy appeared pale, her expression frozen in a faint, polite smile. Seeing her like that made his insides churn.

  She nodded vaguely. “Well, I wanted he Houston Tigers to win, just like everyone else,” she said weakly. “I’m glad he could help. I’m going to, um, get going. Good night to both of you.” She turned, making an escape before either of them could answer.

  Rick reeled. Had she really sent her ex-husband in to fix things for him? He knew they weren’t on great terms, so he doubted that had been an easy favor to ask, especially considering Rick had the impression Justin didn’t care about football. At all. He’d be the last person he expected to put himself out for him or the team. Brandy had totally come through for him, unlike Bristol and the board.

  And he’d essentially just broken up with her.

  Fuck.

  * * *

  Brandy somehow found her kids and got them out of there. They must’ve sensed something was wrong with her, because they hardly argued at leaving so soon after arriving.

  She just had to hold it together until they went to bed and then she’d have a good cry. She should’ve followed her better instincts and never succumbed to Rick Morehouse’s charming smile. Yes, the sex had been incredible, but it wasn’t worth this searing pain, tearing her apart.

  She drove home and locked herself in her room, drawing a bath. Her hands shook as she dropped a few drops of lavender oil in the water. Lord knew she needed all the help she could get to relax. She had a feeling she wouldn’t be sleeping at all that night.

  After stripping, she stepped into the bath and sank all the way down, letting the water cover her face, so only her nose peeked out of the water to breathe. A sob welled up. Tears burned her eyes.

  This one night. She’d give herself this one night to grieve Rick Morehouse, and then she’d never think of him again. It had been a mistake. Maybe in time she’d look back on it as a great story. Like, hey, I had hot monkey sex with the dreamboat Rick Morehouse once. He was a really nice guy.

  She heard her phone ringing in her purse in the bedroom but she ignored it. She’d bet Angelina or Meg wondered what had happened.

  Well, she regretted pissing Rick off, but she wasn’t sorry about having the heart to heart with Justin. Having those tensions eased took a big load of stress off her going into the future.

  Her stomach twisted. The future. Even though she’d been pretending all along that Rick was only a great lay, some part of her had been planning a future. With him.

  Time to let that one go.

  * * *

  Rick knocked on Brandy’s door. It was late. Past midnight. He’d had to stay until the Peter Piper party had ended and all his team had gone home. He’d tried to call ahead to Brandy but she hadn’t answered. Lights were on, so she must be home.

  No one came to the door.

  He knocked again, a little louder.

  This was a bad idea. He’d probably scare the hell out of her. No single mom wants to hear a loud knock on her door after midnight.

  A change of light behind the peephole told him someone was there.

  The door swung open. Brandy stood in a pair of black and pink striped pajamas, looking as drop-dead gorgeous in them as she did in anything. Her brows were drawn together in confused concern. “Rick?”

  “Hey,” he murmured, keeping his voice low to not wake her kids. “May I come in?”

  She didn’t move aside. “It’s kind of late.”

  He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I tried to call. I wanted to apologize.”

  He needed to apologize for doubting her. To tell her he wanted more. He wanted all of her. Would she go for it, though?

  She just might. He knew she cared. She wouldn’t have worked so hard to help him out if she didn’t. But he’d hurt her.

  She still didn’t move to let him in. “The kids are asleep and I’m exhausted.”

  Okay, he could work with a talk on her doorstep.

  “I just wanted to thank you for getting your ex to talk to Perricone.”

  She flushed, her pale skin glowing under the porch light. “It’s the least I could do.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “This wasn’t your fault. At fi
rst I thought you might have been using me for publicity for your gym, but now I realized I had my head wedged. You’re not like that. I misjudged the situation and gave you the cold shoulder. I apologize.”

  Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. She didn’t speak. He suspected she didn’t trust her voice to be steady.

  “I hurt you and I’m truly sorry.”

  She shrugged, looking away. Forgiveness, but no engagement.

  “There’s something else…” He drew a breath, searching for the right words. “I missed you, Brandy.” He waved a hand, “I mean, I know it’s only been a few days, but when I was thinking about us not seeing each other anymore, it... it bothered me so much more than I expected.” He gave her a rueful look. “You’re under my skin, Brandy Love.”

  The corners of her mouth lifted. It wasn’t a full smile, but it did seem genuine. “I missed you, too.”

  He wanted to kiss her right there—to re-assert his interest, but he didn’t want to push yet. Standing with her in the doorway and him outside was a metaphor he needed to change. “Come here, I need to show you something.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her out onto the porch with him. Maybe before they had the big “talk” about moving their relationship forward, they should reconnect in the way that already had been working—with passion.

  She laughed. “What are you showing me?”

  He steered her down the steps and along the sidewalk to his car. “I want to show you my trophy,” he said in a suggestive voice. He pushed her up against the Escalade and pressed his body against hers.

  She stiffened and he almost pulled back, but then she melted into him. “Rick…” Her voice was half amusement, half reproach.

  He cupped her head and lowered his mouth to hers, claiming it without preamble or warning.

  She responded, softening into him, pressing her lips back against his. Her slender hands slid up to his chest, remaining there. He threaded his fingers through her silky blonde hair. “I need you.”

  That was the God’s honest truth.

  If ever a man needed sexual healing, it was him. His day had been a nightmare and all he wanted was to forget it in the taste of her.

  “Rick... my kids.”

  “I know. I’m not asking. Just wishing.” He gave her a rueful smile. “I’m serious when I say I need you.”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”

  He inhaled her scent, nuzzled her neck. “I’d like to take you on a date. To talk about our no dating policy.”

  Her eyes crinkled with amusement. “Well... I might be able to bend my personal rule just this once.”

  “Good.” He kissed her again. “I’ll pick you up at the gym.” He eased back, freeing her.

  Her breath seemed unsteady, her eyes dilated. A strand of her cornsilk hair fell across her eyes.

  He brushed it back, touching her cheek with the backs of his knuckles.

  “You gonna show me that trophy?” she challenged. He loved the flirty tone.

  “Mmm hmm. And more.” He wanted something way beyond their sex-at-the-gym game this time, though. “It will be a proper date.”

  His phone buzzed and he pulled it out. A text from Phil had come through, 8 lbs, 2 oz healthy baby girl. Amy’s fine.

  “Yes!” He pumped his fist in the air. Quite the turnaround this day.

  “What?” Brandy asked.

  “My buddy Phil just had a baby girl. He had to leave in the middle of the game.” He kissed her again. “You’ll meet them soon.”

  It was a promise. He wanted his life intersected with hers. Forever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She hadn’t been this nervous for a date since high school. It was silly because her comfort level with Rick surpassed any other “date.” Still, her expectations for this one were sky high.

  She showered at the club and put on her sexiest dress—a turquoise and dark blue patterned affair that showed off her curves, clinging to her breasts and hips and accentuating her narrow waist. Remembering how much he’d enjoyed them last time, she donned a pair of navy thigh highs and her dressiest cowgirl boots—the soft brown ones with turquoise stitching.

  As she blew her hair dry, she almost laughed at the nervous flutters in her belly. Forty-four years old and a man could still give her jitters.

  But he wasn’t any man. Rich Morehouse was more than she’d ever dreamed he’d be. And they had a lot to discuss. She could only interpret his request for a talk about their “no dating” rules as a desire to change the status quo. Because if he wanted to end things, he wouldn’t have shown up at her house the night before to apologize.

  One of her regular customers walked into the ladies locker room and smiled. “You must have a date.”

  “I sure do.”

  With Houston’s sweetheart, no less.

  “Are you waiting for me to get out of here? All I have to do is grab my stuff and go.”

  “Take your time, I don’t even know if he’s here yet.”

  But he was. She found him leaning against the front desk looking... drool-worthy. Dead sexy with his boyish smile lighting up his face.

  He straightened up and his smile widened as his eyes traveled down to her boots and back up again, lingering on her face. “Hello, gorgeous.” He looked clean-shaven and fresh, his button-down shirt and slacks pressed.

  Good, they were on the same wavelength as far as dressing for the date.

  “Hey, handsome.”

  He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her against his body, stealing a kiss. “You look beautiful.”

  She touched his collar. “So do you.”

  “How many people do I need to kick out before we can leave?”

  She laughed. “Are you going to kick them out?”

  “Yep. I’m going to tell them they’re standing between me and a hot date, and they’d better get a move on, if they know what’s good for them.”

  “It’s been slow this week because of Christmas. There’s only one in the ladies locker room. Why don’t you check the men’s?”

  “You bet. I’ll be right back.”

  He strode through the gym, flicking off lights, as if he worked there. He was so damn competent. The client from the ladies’ room came out and winked. “Have a great time on your date.”

  “Thanks, you too. I mean have a good night!” Lordy, was she blushing? Rick seemed to have that effect on her.

  Rick reappeared. “We’re all clear.”

  She pulled out her keys. “Great, let’s go.”

  He took the keys from her and held the door open, then locked it after them.

  She could get used to having someone take care of these little things.

  “You’re coming in my car,” Rick murmured, propelling her toward his Escalade. She didn’t mind letting him drive this time. In fact, it was easy to let a man lead when he was just as willing to follow. Rick Morehouse was like no other man she’d ever known, that was for sure.

  He drove to Diva, the fancy bar and restaurant attached to the Westingford Resort. Inside, they found a cozy booth in the bar/lounge, sipping cocktails and listening to the live Latin music. She sat close to him, her body tingling every place they touched. Frissons of heat rippled through her every time she looked into his jade green eyes and her clit pulsed in anticipation of their future recreation.

  “I wanted to thank you again for getting your ex to advise the superintendent. Apparently that’s the reason I still have a job.” He picked up her hand, rubbing his thumb across her pulse.

  “Yeah, I sort of hated cashing in that favor, but it actually worked out for the best. I finally pulled on my big girl panties and owned up to my half of the relationship fail.”

  Rick’s gaze burned into her. She worried for a moment it was inappropriate to talk about Justin. But Rick had brought him up. He stroked his fingertips down each of her fingers. “It takes emotional maturity to view a failed relationship that way. Most people never get there.”

  She swallowed, his praise meaning more to h
er than it should.

  “Yeah, I honestly could’ve gone on for years with the stiff, contentious way of relating we’ve had. But then I couldn’t beg him for a favor.” She smiled ruefully. “So I did what I should’ve done the day after we divorced—I forgave him.”

  Some kind of pain rippled across Rick’s face and she worried again about the topic.

  “I should probably take a page from your book. My dad showed up at my door yesterday to tell me he’s dying.” Rick’s expression twisted with emotion. “How do I even take that? On one hand, I don’t even know the guy. We have no relationship. On the other... he’s my father.”

  She squeezed his palm. “God, that’s so hard. I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, I froze up. I just sort of... sent him away.”

  “Well, what do you want from the situation?”

  The pain in Rick’s eyes tore her apart. He rubbed his jaw. “I don’t want a relationship. But I don’t want to turn my back on him, either.”

  “Of course not. You can treat him with compassion without giving the message that you approve of the way he acted in the past. I believe sometimes, that’s why we resist forgiving. We think it let’s the other person off the hook. But it reality, it just let’s us off the hook.”

  Rick’s nostrils flared and he drew a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right.” His voice sounded strangled. “Maybe... you can help me through this. You seem pretty wise.”

  Her heart skittered. That wasn’t the kind of thing one said to just a fuck-buddy.

  * * *

  “So about dating…” Rick lost his breath looking into the clear blue depths of Brandy’s eyes. “I propose a re-evaluation of our present stance on a relationship.”

  She regarded him without speaking.

  What was going on in that beautiful head of hers? His blunt-cut nails dug into his palms.

  “I want to date you, Brandy. I want more than sex. I really care about you.”

  Her throat worked. “What about…” She swallowed. “What about the kids?”

  “I love your kids,” he said without the slightest hesitation. “And I definitely don’t want to hurt them. But that’s not going to happen. I’m going in with the intention of playing for keeps, Brandy. Are you in?”