Night Games

by Nina Bangs

  Ally cast him a puzzled glance. “You brought your cat with you?” She looked back at the Old One. “What a strange name.”

  “Yeah. I call her Boss for short.” He stared into the Old One’s self-satisfied eyes as he sat next to her on the bed. He’d have a few things to say to her once they were alone.

  The Old One rose, arched her back and yawned, then climbed into his lap and curled up. Great. You couldn’t just dump your team owner onto the floor.

  “So what other kinds of books do you write?” He ran his palm across the sheet that separated him from Ally, smoothing out the wrinkles. Too bad he couldn’t slide his hand across her bare stomach, her breasts. Now that was the kind of thinking he should lose for the next three weeks. He had to learn to think in terms that didn’t include sex.

  She cast him a thoughtful glance. “I wrote a few successful books on how to be the perfect wife. What’s a man’s perspective on the subject?”

  Absently, he rubbed his aching thigh. “A wife? Haven’t thought about it much.” He wouldn’t marry while he was with the team, but if he ever did marry he’d want a woman who could match his passion. He’d probably have to search the poorer planets to find a woman who didn’t have all the sensuality leeched out of her. But there was something more he wanted. . . . “I’d like a woman who’d try to please me.” He’d never had a woman who wanted to do little things for him. Not his mother, not the women he satisfied during competition. Maybe a girlfriend would have, but he’d never had time for one.

  Her narrowed gaze told him he’d said the wrong thing.

  “I wrote books that taught women how to please men, but I was wrong. You try to please men and they leave footprints on your face as they walk out the door. From now on, men will have to do the pleasing.” She glanced down. “What’s wrong with your thigh?”

  “Muscle strain. Championship competition puts a lot of stress on the thigh muscles. Right here.” Reaching over, he laid his palm high on her inner thigh, felt her muscles clench at his touch, felt his groin tighten in response, then felt the agony of red-hot needles stabbing a little too closely to his heavily insured, most valuable asset.

  “What the hell!” Instinctively, he stood, dumping the Old One and her unsheathed claws onto the floor.

  In a royal huff, she stalked over to the small fold-out table and leaped atop it, settling herself among the coffee cups.

  “She’s on the table.” Ally sounded horrified.

  “Yeah, she pretty much goes where she wants.” Brian scowled at the Old One. He understood her game now. She was going to run interference with anyone in this time who might mess with her highest paid player. She’d better think again if she thought she could dictate what he did with his free time.

  “You should break her of that habit.” Ally’s expression indicated she was smart enough not to offer her services. “I’ll be right back. I need to see how Katy’s coming with the horse.”

  He nodded. Probably he should offer to help, but he had some pressing business right here.

  As soon as Ally left, he swung to face the Old One. “Bad choice of forms. Sure, it gives you an inconspicuous way to stick your nose in my business, but it has limitations. Know what I mean?” He grinned, and the Old One’s eyes glittered angrily. “For example, you can’t talk. Tough.”

  The Old One swatted at a cup, then watched as it crashed to the floor.

  Brian shook his head. “Temper, temper. Everyone knows Serans are powerful shape shifters, but changing shape takes lots of energy.” Ignoring the Old one’s slit-eyed glare, he cocked his head to study her. “How can I say this without insulting you? Got it. You’re into minimal effort and conserving energy. Both of those are great things, but I guess you’re stuck with being a cat for the month. Have fun.” He didn’t stick around to see what else she’d break. He climbed from the wagon to join Ally.

  Ally watched him walk toward her, and no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on grooming the horse, her mind insisted on imagining scenes from his fantasy.

  “Where’d your great-aunt go?”

  Don’t pay attention to what he looks like. Remember, he wants a woman to please him. You’ve already tried the please-your-man thing, and it didn’t work. “She walked up to your keep. Says she isn’t leaving until she finds a ghost or fairy.” Ally cast him a tentative smile. “Got any white sheets handy?”

  He shook his head and drew her gaze to his hair. Thick and soft, it invited a woman’s fingers. . . . Uh-Uh. She wouldn’t go there. No touching any part of Brian Byrne. “Then I guess we’re here for the long haul with a few day trips thrown in for variety, unless you decide to throw us off your property.”

  “You’re not bothering anyone out here.”

  His eyes said “lie” before he shifted his gaze from her. She smiled. Knowing that she bothered him made her feel . . . good. Go figure.

  “So tell me about the book you’re writing.” He sat on a nearby wall, legs spread.

  His jeans were tight, but her throat was tighter. She coughed to clear it. “I’m trying to help recently divorced women adjust to single life by sharing my own experiences and my reaction to them.”

  “And those experiences are?” He rubbed his aching thigh. Probably wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

  She was aware. “Zip so far. Unless you count meeting a man who’s traveled here from 2502.”

  Ally waited for him to laugh. He didn’t.

  “No wild sex? Wild parties?” He drew his lower lip between his teeth. Another unconscious gesture.

  His lips must ache, too. Overuse. Probably had RKS—repetitive kissing syndrome.

  “I’m not a wild sex kind of woman.” Not that she was against wild sex. Too bad Dave had been at the tame end of the sex spectrum. Wild would have made for a refreshing change.

  “If wild means unplanned, then I don’t do wild either. I’ve had a long career because I think about each move, each word I say. That way, I maximize my results.”

  Ally knew her mouth must be hanging open. He was seriously into his fantasy. “You sound so . . .” Insane. “Calculating.”

  He shrugged. “To be a success in the sex games, a man has to make sure he has everything in control, timed perfectly. Sort of like your football pass. The quarterback has to know exactly where his receiver is and put the ball right on the money or else no score. It’s all about timing.”

  Right. Ally didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but she couldn’t imagine sex being anything but wild with Brian Byrne.

  Maybe they needed to get away from this topic. “I’m beginning to enjoy the research for Katy’s book. I never knew there were so many varieties of supernatural beings associated with Ireland. I’m keeping a list according to physical appearance so if Katy thinks she sees one we can catalog it. Did you know the O’Neills are one of the few families that have a banshee?”

  “Banshee?” He looked puzzled.

  Strange. Everyone had heard of the banshee, even people who didn’t have a drop of Irish blood. “She’s supposed to appear in the guise of a woman, sometimes wearing a hooded gray cloak. According to tradition, she cries to warn members of certain ancient Irish families of their time of death. Let’s see, I think they’re the O’Neills, the O’Briens, the O’Connors, the O’Gradys, and the Kavanaghs.” Just call her Ally, the repository of useless facts. Maybe Dave was right about the boring part.

  “That leaves me out.” Brian’s gaze grew probing. “Do you believe in things you can’t see, Ally?” He wasn’t smiling.

  She shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t believe in things that go bump in the night.” Distracted, she noticed his cat had jumped from the wagon and was wending its way toward them. It wore a cream mustache that it was leisurely licking off. What nerve. The Old One had guzzled down the cream from their pitcher.

  “Things that go bump in the night? I like that.” He slanted her a smile that hinted at a secret he wasn’t going to share. “So I guess there’s no way you’d beli
eve in a time when contact sports don’t exist, sex is the biggest game in town, and where white stags can travel into the past?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Figures.” He stood and stared beyond her toward the castle.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Exactly what does ‘figures’ mean? And I’ve told you a lot about me, but I haven’t heard any reciprocal dialogue here.” She amended that. “Okay, so I’ve heard a lot, but nothing too truthful.”

  He ignored her. “Looks like your great-aunt has brought some company.” He didn’t look happy about it.

  She turned to watch Katy as she hurried toward them with a thin red-haired man in tow. “That’s Mr. McDermott. He’s the man who told us that if we walked around your keep at midnight we’d meet Black Liam. I didn’t believe him. Dumb me.”

  He knew she expected a reaction from him, but he couldn’t drag his attention from Capricorn Wilson as he approached wearing a sly grin.

  Brian didn’t know why he hadn’t been knocked flat and ground into the dirt by the herd of stags stampeding to get their clients here before he arrived. He wondered who else was lurking in the bushes.

  “Will you look who I found wandering up by the castle.” Katy grinned at Brian. “This here is Sean McDermott. He’s the one who told us about this place. And would you believe he’s a fan of American football. He’s even wearing a Tennessee Titans jersey.” She pointed to the blue shirt with TITANS emblazoned across the front. “I told him those Titans should’ve stayed the Houston Oilers.”

  “Not the Tennessee Titans, Katy. Testosterone Titans.” Brian glared at Cap.

  Katy didn’t miss a beat. “Well, that’s okay, too. A man would be a sissy without some of that stuff.” She frowned. “Don’t recall a team with that name, though.”

  Cap stepped forward, the grin still pasted on his face. “Ach, sure-and-begorra ’tis himself returned to the ould sod to claim his rightful home. It warms the cockles of me old heart.”

  “Feel that shaking?” Brian stepped closer.

  Cap’s grin slipped a little. “No.”

  “That’s every dead Irishman from the beginning of time turning over in his grave.” Brian wondered if he could get a stag to take him back home. Since everyone he knew was here in 2002, he’d have peace back in 2502.

  Katy wasn’t one to be kept out of the conversation for long. “You know, Sean, you talk sort of different from the other Irish people we’ve met.” She cocked her head to study him. “You sound a little like a Saint Patty’s day card.”

  Cap cast her a wary glance.

  Ally had been silent for too long. Probably thinking. Thinking was bad. He’d already told her too much.

  She stirred beside him. “Maybe I’m wrong here, but I get the feeling you two know each other.”

  Stupid. He’d let his anger at Cap goad him into saying more than he should have. “Nope. Never met him, but I’ve seen the jersey in stores around here. The Testosterone Titans are a local soccer team.”

  Ally cast him a doubtful glance.

  Help me here, Cap.

  Cap suddenly seemed to realize the value of discretion. “Sure and I’ve never met the lad, but I knew his father well. ’Tis the spitting image of his father, he is.”

  Brian didn’t get time to feel any deep relief because Cap was off and running.

  “ ’Tis me prayer the lad’ll stay here where he belongs for the rest of his life.”

  Brian could almost feel the air vibrate as a low growl started behind them. The growl rapidly grew in volume then exploded in a furious feline yowl of outrage.

  Great. Just great.

  Chapter Three

  Ally watched in horror as the Old One launched herself with claws unsheathed at Mr. Mc-Dermott. Every hair on the cat’s ample body stood on end, puffing her up to frightening dimensions. A pit bull in feline form.

  Wrapping her paws around McDermott’s leg, she sank her teeth into the part of his ankle exposed by his too-short pants.

  “Get her off! Get her off!” He hopped up and down, doing an Irish jig in fast forward, but the Old One was locked into position.

  Ally looked around desperately. “Do something!” It was a generic order, aimed at anyone brave enough to interfere with the Old One and her prey.

  Brian rocked back on his heels, his arms crossed over his impressive chest. He grinned. “The Old One gets upset when someone suggests I shouldn’t go home. She’s very attached to home. Has a lot invested there.”

  Ally stared at him. What the heck was he talking about? And what kind of person would stand by while his pet savaged a complete stranger? Okay, so the cat wasn’t of mountain lion proportions, but she sure enough made up for it in enthusiasm. One thing was clear, Brian wasn’t going to help poor Mr. McDermott.

  Frantically, Ally turned toward her great-aunt. Katy jumped up and down like a jackrabbit on too much caffeine. “Grab her by the scruff of her neck!”

  Mr. McDermott chose to ignore Katy’s advice. He opted for more hopping with occasional wild kicks thrown in for variety.

  “Get her off me!” Mr. McDermott’s shouts escalated to bellows.

  Ally glanced around. “Someone help . . .” Uh-oh. No one else left. Only . . . her.

  Ally gulped. She was not a cat person, didn’t have the communication skills necessary to reason with an outraged kitty. But someone had to help Mr. McDermott. She’d learned she was capable of a lot of unexpected things once she got over trying to be all things wonderful to Dave-the-Dork. She could do this.

  Not allowing herself time to think about consequences, she stepped forward, reached down, then . . . Where the heck was the cat’s neck? The Old One looked like a giant multicolored beach ball with a fur coat.

  Aiming for the end where the angry growls were coming from, Ally reached in.

  The Old One freed a paw long enough to swipe at the person who dared to interfere with her God-given right to chew the ankle of Sean McDermott.

  “Ouch!” Ally yanked her hand back at the same time someone lifted her off her feet and set her aside.

  “I’ll take care of her.” Brian sounded grim as he reached down and pulled the Old One off McDermott.

  Ally waited breathlessly for the ensuing cries of pain. Brian would be ripped to shreds.

  Instead, he cradled the Old One in his arms while she discussed the situation in a barrage of growls, hisses, and yowls. But she didn’t try to scratch him.

  Ally blinked. “Boy, you must be great with animals. I could’ve sworn she was ready to tear strips off anyone who touched her.”

  Brian looked up, his dark gaze capturing her, holding her. “She’s female.”

  As if that explained everything. Ally sank into those green eyes, recognized the sensual knowledge, the truth of his two words, and was suddenly afraid of something she didn’t understand. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to dispel the sudden rash of goose bumps.

  “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer about this.” McDermott’s voice was shrill with anger as he bent down to examine the teeth marks in his ankle.

  “Who’d believe it? That cat scared the brogue right out of you.” Katy stared at the Old One, new respect in her gaze.

  “Ye’ll be hearing from me solicitor, ye misbegotten spawn of Satan.” His voice was slightly less shrill.

  Brian shook his head. “Don’t know if that’s wise. Isn’t there a league rule about interfering with another team’s players?”

  Funny, Brian was answering him, but Ally could swear McDermott was talking to the cat. Stranger still, McDermott seemed to understand Brian’s answer. She had to be imagining it. The stinging in her hand made her forget Mc-Dermott. She held it up and grimaced at the bloody scratches.

  “Let me have a look at your hand.” Brian’s voice was low, concerned. He shifted his cat to one arm where she settled in with mumbled cat curses aimed at the rapidly departing Sean McDermott. “Maybe you need to calm down, Boss. The Cosmic Network would love to get hold of a story
like this. You know what they’d make of it: Team Owners in Cat Fight Over Player. Not real dignified.”

  For a moment, Ally thought he was talking to her. Then she realized he was talking . . . to the cat? Nah. The pain in her hand was making her woozy.

  Thoughts of the Old One disappeared as Brian held her hand and examined it. His palm cupped hers, his fingers resting against her wrist, and she was sure he could feel the drumbeat of her pulse as surely as she felt the rough warmth of his fingertips.

  “I have something that’ll take care of this.” His voice suggested he had something to take care of almost anything. “Come up to my shelter while I get it.” He slid his fingers around her wrist, his thumb rubbing a circular pattern of persuasion over the spot where her blood pounded a frantic warning. He started to lead her up the hill toward the castle ruins. The Old One glared at her over the top of his arm.

  She dug her heels in, bringing him to a halt. “I have first aid stuff in the wagon. I can take care of it.”

  Katy trotted to her side. “Afraid you’ll have to go with him. Used the last of the antiseptic on the horse. Figured we’d be going into Liscannor to get some supplies anyway.”

  “On the horse?” No. Going with Brian Byrne to his shelter was not an option. Why? She just knew. And if he’d stop touching her, she could think of another reason.

  “You need to get something on those scratches. Cats carry germs.” Katy was determined.

  The Old One made a noise that sounded strangely like a chuckle. Ally shook her head to clear her mind.

  “You go on, Ally, and I’ll tag along behind.” Katy demonstrated how well she could tag along behind by forging on ahead. “I need to take a look at the far side of the castle. Thought I saw a white deer there yesterday morning. Strange color for a deer.”