Play Hard

by V. K. Sykes

  Action followed thought as she wrapped herself around him. He growled his satisfaction into her mouth, slipping his hands down to cup her bottom, nudging her into the thick length of his erection. Maddie felt something deep inside seem to give way. The wild feel of him against her and his deep, devouring kisses combined in a tidal wave that burst through every internal barrier she’d constructed against him. The wave flowed through her, around her, inside her—dragging her to a place of freedom. Blessed, unrestrained freedom.

  She whimpered, straining up to his mouth, wanting more. He knew exactly how to caress and taste her, how to savor. His hands—strong, sturdy hands—knew how to gently move her body, to touch her in all the places she longed to be touched. When he cupped her breast, his fingers finding the hardness of the nipple through her soft knit shirt, she shuddered and drew his tongue deeply into her mouth. Jake moaned softly, running his hand down her back and over her ass, tilting her pelvis into the heat of his erection. It pressed through the lightweight material of her skirt and panties, rubbing her right there, and she hungered for more.

  Much, much more.

  “Hey, you guys, I know you’re working hard in there to find that ball, but if you don’t come out soon we’re going to have to call in the rescue dogs!”

  Nate’s shout from back in the fairway shattered the spell, and they broke apart, panting. Jake’s head whipped around in the direction of Nate’s voice, and his lips actually pulled back in a feral growl.

  God, as if her knees weren’t already weak enough.

  “Give us a couple of more seconds, okay?” Jake yelled back.

  Maddie slipped past him, picking up her club and adjusting the skewed brim of her visor with trembling hands. She was shaking so hard she dropped the club, but Jake snagged it before it hit the ground.

  He handed her the club, wrapping her fingers around it. “Don’t drop it.”

  Now he sounded amused, and she scowled up at him. But he reached up a finger and brushed it lightly across her cheek, and the butterflies in her stomach took flight again.

  “Before we go back out, I just want you to know one thing,” he said softly. “I have never felt anything so good and so right before in my life.”

  She gave a jerky nod and started back through the woods, Jake falling into step beside her. After several failed attempts, she finally cleared her throat and found her voice.

  “You’re an incredible man, Jake,” she said, wincing at the quaver in her voice. “And you know I want you. My body just told you how much.”

  She stopped, seeing Nate and Martha only a few yards ahead in the fairway. Turning to Jake again, she knew she had to tell him she wasn’t ready to do what they both had so desperately wanted moments ago. Now that she’d given in to him, let him touch her like that, she even more clearly perceived the danger he posed—to both of them.

  “But I can’t have…an affair with you,” she managed, even though it killed her to say the words. “I’m sorry, but surely you see now why we can’t.”

  Now Jake was scowling. “No, I don’t. I—”

  Maddie turned away abruptly, cutting him off. She made her way back out to the fairway to rejoin Nate and Martha, refusing to look back at Jake.

  And feeling like she’d just smashed something very precious into dust.

  Chapter Ten

  Maddie spent most of the night tossing and turning in bed, obsessing about the golf tournament and the heartbreaking encounter in the woods with Jake. Now, as she packed for the short trip from Philadelphia to Massachusetts, she could barely concentrate long enough to organize what she needed to take with her. She cursed both Jake and Nate for putting her in that position in the first place.

  And she cursed herself for her weakness in letting Jake kiss her and touch like that. It felt like her body had betrayed her. To be brutally honest, she’d been blown away by the incredibly hot embrace that breezed right past her carefully guarded defenses.

  She stuffed toiletries into her bag, glancing around the small but pretty bedroom in her modest apartment in a close suburb of Philadelphia. Maddie liked her life. She liked it a lot, and it had been a long, hard climb to get where she was now. But Jake threatened everything she’d worked so hard to attain, and she was certain now that she had to put distance between them, physically and emotionally.

  Not that it was going to be easy. It had ripped her wide open to see Jake so disappointed. He had barely spoken a word to her for the rest of the afternoon, stalking the course as if he was performing a grim duty rather than playing what was supposed to be a fun round of golf. He slammed booming drive after booming drive, clearly working off his pent-up aggression. Her game, on the other hand, had completely tanked. She had refused to tell Martha what happened in the woods, and even Nate’s corny jokes couldn’t lighten the foursome’s mood. Maddie had taken off as soon as they had putted out on the eighteenth, having pleaded her trip to Worcester in the morning as an excuse.

  Not that going up to see her mom was an excuse. She hadn’t been there for almost five weeks, which was inexcusably long as far as she was concerned. But the overdue trip couldn’t have come at a better time. Getting out of town and not having to run into Jake Miller for at least the next three days would give her some much-needed space. She desperately needed time to think, to get away and figure out what she had to do to resolve this untenable situation once and for all. Which of two rotten choices was worse? Risking her career, or risking the chance to have something with Jake Miller?

  The drive to Worcester took her a little over five hours, and by early afternoon she had pulled into the parking lot at Fulton House Care Center. The cost of her mother’s care was proving tough on Maddie’s finances, but it was well worth it. Fulton House specialized in care for patients with Alzheimer’s and other dementias, and the staff was well trained and totally dedicated.

  The elevator discharged her onto her mother’s floor. The unit was cheery, clean, and bright, with big windows that let in plenty of sunlight and walls that were painted in soothing shades of blue. Still, no visitor could ever mistake the purpose of the place, and Maddie had to struggle against an overwhelming tide of grief whenever she set foot in there. It was wasted emotion, she knew—her mother was safe and well-cared for—but Maddie would never stop grieving for the loving parent who was slipping away from her day-by-day.

  It was well past the noon feeding time, so the nursing staff was probably busy putting some of the residents back to bed. She found her mother in her room, strapped into her special wheelchair, staring out the window overlooking the pleasantly landscaped courtyard.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said in a loud voice. She crossed the small bedroom, decorated with a few landscape prints and several pictures of Maddie and her dad, and leaned in to kiss her mother on both cheeks, French-style. But, as had been the case for some time, there was no response to her greeting. Not even a slight lift of the eyebrows, or flicker of a smile. Nothing but the same vacant gaze that didn’t seem to take in anything.

  She sank wearily down onto the hospital-type bed that dominated the room. On days like this, she knew her mother’s ability to connect was truly gone forever. Still, she didn’t like crying in front of her, so she fought to suppress the tears welling up in her eyes. But how could the most wonderful person Maddie had ever known be reduced to such a state?

  Genevieve Leclair had always vibrated with life and intelligence. Of French-Canadian descent, her mom had cherished her heritage, and had been a person with true joie de vivre. Working as a nurse for over thirty years in local hospitals, she had left her mark wherever she had gone as a generous and much-loved caregiver. Outside work, she’d been a dedicated volunteer, organizing or participating in just about every charitable event that ever happened in Worcester. But even with a full-time job and all her volunteer work, Genevieve had never lost her primary focus—raising her only child, her beloved daughter Madeleine.

  Her mother had been determined that Maddie would graduate from coll
ege, and it had been one of the happiest days of her life when her daughter received her journalism degree. She was even prouder when Maddie came home two years later from Boston University with a Master’s degree in journalism in hand.

  Only one thing had ever disappointed her mother—that her daughter hadn’t yet married and started a family. Maddie knew it wasn’t realistic for her mom to expect marriage and children on some kind of old-fashioned timetable, but the expectations had bothered her more than she’d ever let on. It wasn’t like she was some career-obsessed woman who didn’t want to be slowed down by kids or even a husband—she did want those things in her life. But here she was on the verge of thirty, still single, and even if she did find a man she wanted to marry, her mother would never be aware of it. Nor would Genevieve ever be able to hold her grandchildren, and that fact still cut through Maddie with devastating sorrow.

  And the whole crappy situation with Jake, knowing she could never be with him, made the pain of all the unfulfilled expectations even harder to bear.

  Enough with the pity party, Maddie. Life is hard, so you’d better get used to it.

  Forcing back the mental tidal wave of gloom, she began to gently massage her mother’s bony hands and wrists, then worked her way up to her arms and shoulders, talking to her the whole time. She knew it was good for her mother’s circulation, and Maddie loved to do it. Her mother might not understand her words, but she hoped she could feel all the love in her touch, even if she wasn’t able to acknowledge it. She hoped it would get through to her mom somehow, leaving a message of love and undying gratitude.

  “Mom, I’m in a bit of a pickle these days.” She spoke quietly, leaning in close. Of course her mother would probably not understand a word, but Maddie had never gotten over the need to confide in her. “I met a guy who makes me feel…well, I don’t know quite how to describe it. It’s so different from anything I’ve felt before. There was something amazing between us before we even said a word to each other.”

  She paused to pick up the plastic glass of apple juice that had been left on the table beside the bed and held it up to her mom, positioning the straw so she could drink. In an automatic response, Genevieve opened her mouth and took a long sip. Maddie put the glass back down and continued massaging her mother’s hands. “The crazy thing is that I hardly know the guy. But I know that whenever I’m near him I feel a change in me. It’s like I have a shell around me, or maybe some kind of force field, and it falls away when Jake’s near. That’s his name, Mom—Jake Miller. He’s a player with the Philadelphia Patriots.”

  Maddie could feel a wry smile twisting her lips. “Okay, I know what you’d be saying right now—that I shouldn’t be dating athletes. And I’m not, actually. But I have to admit I keep wanting to.”

  She fell silent, thinking it through. If she were still able to communicate, what would her mother say about the situation with Jake? Would she want Maddie to risk everything, perhaps even giving up her career in Philadelphia? What would Mom say if she knew Maddie was contemplating throwing everything over for a guy?

  The answer wasn’t long in coming. Her mother would have delivered a quick and flat “no.” As much as she’d wanted her daughter to get married and have a family, Genevieve had also wanted Maddie to excel in her chosen profession. Widowed at an early age, Genevieve had understood the need for a woman to be independent. Husband and children, yes, but not at such a high cost—a cost that could ultimately lead to bitterness and regret over lost opportunities.

  Feeling a little more at peace with her decision to walk away from Jake, Maddie settled in for hours, reading to her mother—though she didn’t have a clue how much her mom actually comprehended—until the dinner meal cart arrived on the floor. Whenever she was able to visit, she always fed her mom herself. Usually there were two or three other family members doing the same with their loved ones, but for most of the residents it was a matter of waiting their turn until the nursing assistants had time to get to them. It always made Maddie feel horribly guilty that she couldn’t be there more often to help, since most days Genevieve had to suffer through the indignity of the assembly-line feeding process.

  Sometimes life truly sucked.

  Once her mother had finished eating, Maddie helped the evening nurse settle her in for the night. She gave a lingering hug and then kisses on Genevieve’s cheeks, promising to return in the morning. Although it was still early, she was anxious to get going, knowing she had to face bad traffic on her way across town to an old college friend’s house where she would be spending the night.

  Emma Charles and her husband Reed lived in one of those pricey suburban developments where the massive, similarly-styled houses took up almost entire lots. Maddie thought of those kinds of places as relatively soulless, but they seemed pretty good places to raise a young family, with lots of room and lots of mod cons.

  Thirty minutes after leaving Fulton House, she pulled into Emma’s driveway. As Maddie lugged her bag toward the front door, her friend bounded out of the house and grabbed her—bag and all—in a smothering hug.

  “Oh, my God, it’s been too long since we’ve seen you!” Emma cried. “The kids have been at me all day—when is Aunt Maddie going to get here, when is Aunt Maddie coming. They’re totally wound up.”

  Maddie laughed, her mood starting to lift. “I’m happy to be here, too, and I can’t wait to see the three little monsters. Oh, and Reed too, of course,” she added hastily.

  Reed was genuinely a great guy. A successful, hard-working corporate lawyer, he also managed to be a devoted husband and family man. Emma maintained her career as a marketing executive for a communications company while also being a great wife and mother. They had always been role models for Maddie, living proof that professional, hard-working couples could still maintain a fulfilling family life.

  Emma led her through the spacious entrance hallway and into the enormous, fully-kitted out kitchen at the rear of the house.

  “I bet you could use a drink. You just came from the nursing home, right? How’s your mom doing?” She reached into the huge, stainless steel fridge and pulled out a bottle of Australian chardonnay, Maddie’s favorite. “Hey, you guys,” she yelled in the direction of the stairs off the main hall, “Aunt Maddie’s here—get your butts down and see her!”

  She gave Maddie a look of motherly exasperation. “It’s all iPods and XBox games now. They’re always plugged into something electronic. I usually have to disconnect them before I try to communicate, but I hope they heard that shout.”

  “It’s weird isn’t it?” Maddie answered, as she settled into a high, cushioned stool at the breakfast counter. “Makes you wonder what kids would do if all those gadgets hadn’t been invented.”

  “Maybe get outside and play?” Emma replied dryly. “I do force that on them at least one hour a day and they actually seem to like it when I do. But enough about my little monsters. Tell me about your mom.”

  Maddie grimaced. “Any change there’s been has been for the worse, I’m afraid.”

  “Crap. I’m sorry, Mad. I hate that you have to go through this.”

  She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It is what it is. I hate like hell what the disease has done to her, but I try to accept it and go forward. Physically, she’s still pretty healthy and she looks good and eats well. They take great care of her at Fulton, thank God.”

  “Good. Reed’s going out later to his weekly poker game, so we’ll have all evening to catch up once the kids are in bed.” She cocked her head. “In fact, I hear the buffalo herd coming down the stairs now.”

  A few moments later, seven-year-old Tyler and five-year-old twins, Alex and Claire, burst into the kitchen. Claire jumped up into Maddie’s arms, Tyler hugged her around the waist, and Alex skidded to a stop and hugged her at the knees. She almost lost her balance under the combined assault.

  Maddie grinned and hugged them back, their open affection pouring like a warm balm over her wounded spirit. “Okay, you three ankle-biters,�
�� she finally said, “you’d better let go of me for a minute so I can see if there might be anything in my purse for you.”

  All three clapped their hands and yelled in excitement. She always brought treats when she came—stuff like special cookies, fudge, chocolate, and whatever other treats she figured kids their age might like. Today, she’d brought along a big box of colorful wrapped candies that she’d picked up in San Diego.

  Emma sighed with parental resignation as the kids tore into the very chocolaty, very gooey candy.

  Maddie laughed. “Hey, how often do I get to give these guys junk you ban from the house?”

  After several chaotic and sticky minutes, the kids bolted out of the room, presumably to finish whatever bloodthirsty video game they were playing.

  “What about a thank you?” Emma yelled after them.

  “Thank you, Aunt Maddie!” chimed a chorus from the second floor.

  Maddie smiled, so freaking happy to be in this warm, loving household. It felt like a benediction after all the troubles of the last few days.

  As they talked over wine, Emma prepared a simple meal of roast chicken and Caesar salad. Reed arrived home, they ate, and after the kids were excused and retreated back upstairs, Maddie and Reed caught up on their respective careers while they helped Emma do the dishes and tidy up.

  After Reed left for his poker game, Emma organized the kids and put them to bed. She then led Maddie into the comfy den and clicked the remote of the CD player. The low, mellow tones of Diana Krall softly filled the room.

  Sighing with pleasure, Maddie took a seat on the over-stuffed sofa and pulled her legs up under her. The room had a big gas fireplace which poured out warmth and soft lighting. For the first time in days she began to relax, and she gave Emma a grateful smile when her friend handed her a cup of cinnamon-spiced decaf coffee in a generous mug.