Forward Pass

by Desiree Holt

  He could only imagine. Medicine that came in bottles of cheap booze.

  “She really wants to make a good impression at these interviews,” Lisa added.

  A headache began to burrow its way into his temples.

  “Fine. Give me an hour and I’ll transfer some money into your account.”

  “Can’t you just meet me with a check?” she whined.

  “No. I’m busy. It’s the transfer or nothing.”

  “Whatever.” Her heavy sigh was clear across the connection. “Sorry. I just want this to happen for her.”

  “We’re coming to the end of the road here, Lisa. It’s time Gina took responsibility for her own life.”

  “But you’re all she has,” Lisa protested, a familiar refrain. “You can’t let go of her now. I-I’ll make sure she stays clean. Gets a job. Goes to work.”

  “Do that. I’ll check back with you to see what’s going on.” He disconnected the call in the middle of her thanks, grinding his teeth.

  Gina Rivera. High school bombshell. Wild child who’d captured his virtue. He hadn’t seen her, had even forgotten about her, until his third year in the NFL. She’d shown up at a game, waiting for him at the player’s gate, all masses of blond hair and tight clothes. He’d been high enough on the excitement of the win to succumb to her sexiness and spend the night with her.

  He hadn’t thought much of it, not even when she showed up twice more. Then he’d discovered her secret, answered her one plea for help and after that he was trapped, just because he was basically a good guy. Occasional contact turned into regular contact. And when he’d stopped taking her calls, she’d had Lisa contact him with a sob story that plucked at his conscience.

  How long was he expected to offer aid to a raging alcoholic who didn’t help herself? He should have told Scott Manchin, his agent, about it from the beginning. By now so much time had passed if word got out, the media wouldn’t look at him as doing something kind for a friend. They’d want to know why he’d kept her hidden all this time. Did they have a child together? All that shit. He’d seen it happen to others and hadn’t been smart enough to protect himself. It would be gossip fodder for weeks and kill all the work he’d done to clean up his act. He really had to cut the cord here.

  Okay, enough of that.

  Following the GPS directions, he pulled off the interstate and into an attractive neighborhood of larger homes and mature trees. A little farther on and the GPS directed him to turn left into the long driveway of a two-story colonial. Nice digs, Hank, he thought. But the guy was making big bucks. He deserved a good place to come home to.

  He parked in front of the garage door. Maybe when he got inside he could grab the opener from Hank’s car and use it while he was here. The key was right where Hank had said it would be. He opened the front door, pulled his suitcase inside, and headed toward the room Hank had said was his to use. On the way he passed a room that looked far too feminine to be Hank’s. He wondered briefly whose room it was. Hank hadn’t mentioned anything about sharing the house with someone.

  Too much for him to think about right now. He wanted a shower, and then he’d see about ordering some dinner. Less than five minutes later he was under hot, steaming water, washing away the grime of the day.

  * * * *

  The taxi moved forward with a jerk and Shay’s eyes popped open. She leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder.

  “Did they clear away the wreck? We’re finally moving, right?”

  “Yes, miss.” He shrugged. “But slowly.”

  She rotated her neck, trying to work out some of the kinks. She’d been sitting in uncomfortable seats since she got in the shuttle to the airport and every muscle in her body ached. The hot shower was looking better and better. Or maybe she’d fire up the hot tub Hank had installed on the rear deck.

  Hopefully, with all this delay caused by the wreck, by the time she got to the house Laura would be packed and gone. They pulled off the interstate and she mentally crossed her fingers and silently chanted, Let her be gone. But bad luck was still with her. When they turned onto her street and she spotted the car parked in the driveway, she swore under her breath. Laura Whoever was still here. Well, she’d better be getting ready to leave. Shay was in no mood to put up with bullshit. Sighing, she hauled her suitcase into the house, closed the door, and headed through the living room to her bedroom.

  And stopped.

  A hissing sound came from the shower in the bathroom connected to her bedroom and the guest room. Damn it! The least Hank could do was tell his little friends to use the master bath and leave hers alone. He had, after all, promised her that she’d have complete privacy.

  “I travel a lot,” he’d told her. Then grinned. “And I’ll keep the sleepovers to those times you’re in New York.”

  Yeah, yeah, yeah.

  So how come this female hadn’t gotten the message she was supposed to be gone?

  Crap! The door wasn’t even closed. Clouds of steam billowed in the bathroom and obscured the figure in the frosted-glass shower enclosure. Okay, enough was enough.

  Shay stepped into the bathroom and banged her hand on the glass.

  “This is my bathroom,” she ground out. “I’ve had a tough day and you don’t want to mess with me. Next time use Hank’s bathroom. This one is off-limits. Get your ass out of here in five seconds, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

  She turned away, not the least bit interested in a glimpse of Laura Whoever’s nudity. She just wanted her out of the house.

  The water stopped and the door slid open.

  “Okay. I don’t want to cause you any more stress. But Hank said I should use this one.”

  The deep voice shocked her and she turned around before she even thought about it. And nearly swallowed her tongue. A very wet, very naked Joe Reilly stood in her shower stall, grinning at her.

  Just when she’d finally made up her mind to stop thinking about him and obsessing over him.

  At that exact moment her cell phone chimed. A message from Hank.

  “BTW, Joe’s in town. Take good care of him.”

  Chapter 2

  Shay couldn’t stop looking at Joe, at his broad shoulders and hard chest with its scattering of dark curls. Water ran in rivulets over his flat stomach and his lean hips, his long legs and his—Ohmigod!—erection that exceeded even the most outrageous expectations. Whatever she’d imagined in her dreams, the reality was way beyond it.

  All these years she’d nursed her secret feelings for him, all the time she’d lusted after him as a teenager, all her erotic fantasies he’d starred in—nothing ever came close to this incredible reality. She wanted to run her hands over those six-pack abs and feel the hard muscle beneath the skin. Let her fingers drift through the dark hair on his chest. Maybe let her fingertips glide over his flat male nipples. Lick the few drops of water still glistening on his shoulders.

  Breathe, Shay. Slow, deep breaths.

  She was enchanted by the sight of him, aching for him in every hot place in her body.

  He’s not the first naked man you’ve ever seen.

  But this was Joe Reilly! In all his glorious nudity. And glorious it was indeed. Her breath caught in her throat and her nipples hardened of their own free will. She felt the thrumming of the pulse in her cunt and moisture pooled in her panties. In fact, her entire body was doing a happy dance.

  Oh. My. God.

  Joe’s low laugh plucked at her nerve endings and vibrated through her body, shaking her out of her erotic reverie.

  “Seen enough? Think I could get a towel now?”

  The heat of embarrassment suffused Shay’s face and she backed away, turning so fast she almost bumped into the wall.

  “Get some clothes on. Please.” She dragged in a breath. “I’ll be in the living room. And do it now,” she snapped.

  Pacing, hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans, she scrabbled for the edges of her control. Her mind whirled, totally unsettled, as the
implications of this situation peppered her. Joe Reilly. Here. In this house. Just the two of them. Alone. Was Hank crazy?

  Maybe. He’d probably given less than two seconds of thought to it, off there in the wilds of Wyoming as he was. Had it even occurred to him she might not want to play housemates with a man who’d treated her all her life as if she were his kid sister?

  This was ridiculous. She was an adult. No big deal.

  Yeah, it was a big deal. Because this was Joe, the secret hero of every one of her dreams since she was eight years old.

  Obviously, the car in the driveway belonged to him. Good thing he’d parked by the half of the garage that held Hank’s car. Like her, Hank always cabbed to the airport and back.

  “Usually women are telling me to take my clothes off.” The deep voice behind her had a teasing edge to it. “This is a novelty.”

  She whirled around to find him inches away from her. It was obvious he’d given drying off a quick pass. His dark hair curled from the dampness of the shower and tiny drops of water still snaked down his chest, drawing a path toward the waistband of his jeans. Her gaze dropped automatically to his crotch, and she forced herself to jerk it away.

  Not. Good.

  “There’s nothing funny about this. At all.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “Just what in the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

  He grinned and she noted he still had the tiny dimple at the left corner of his mouth. A very sexy dimple. It just wasn’t fair. No man should be this downright appealing, especially when she wanted desperately to be angry with him.

  “Simmer down, squirt.” He chuckled. “There’s a simple explanation.”

  “Don’t call me squirt.” She spat the words out through clenched teeth. “I’m not a kid any more, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  His midnight-black eyes took a slow tour of her from the red ball cap on her head to her sneaker-clad feet. Heat surged through her as if he was undressing her with his eyes and she wanted to cross her arms over her chest.

  “Oh, I noticed. Believe me. I’d say you’ve grown up a whole lot.” He actually had the audacity to wink. “So what are you doing here?”

  Her jaw dropped. “What am I doing here? That’s a lot of nerve coming from you. I live here. What are you doing here?”

  “You live here?” His eyes widened. “I thought you lived in New York.”

  “I moved back about four months ago. Hank’s giving me house room while I take my time looking for a place of my own.”

  “Well, damn.” He scratched his head. “Old Hank didn’t mention that when he said I could crash here for a few days.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She was going to kill her brother the minute she laid eyes on him. “I can’t believe he did this. What’s wrong with a hotel?”

  Joe frowned. “That’s not very hospitable of you. Hank told me to make myself at home. Much better than a hotel.”

  Yes, killing was definitely on the agenda. Except she was torn between wanting to throw Joe out of the house or throw herself at him bodily. After all these years, at the very moment she’d decided to pack him into the memory closet and move forward, here he was. Control, she told herself. She had to stay in control and not get any wild ideas. The time for that was long past.

  Anyway, why would he be interested in her? He had a gazillion women rotating in and out of his bed. He still saw her as a kid, so she’d better not get any wild ideas.

  “Look.” Shay took a step backward. Joe had moved way too close into her personal space and his clean male scent was making her crazy. “Hank should have checked with me first. I’m sorry, this is just not going to work.”

  “I don’t know why not.” He moved closer again. “You’ve got plenty of room here. Anyway, I have things to take care of so we’ll probably hardly see each other.”

  “What kind of things?”

  He shrugged. “Just business.”

  “Fine. Whatever. It’s not as if I care.” Shay threw up her hands. “I’m going to my room to unpack. Do us both a favor and find a hotel room.” She turned to look at him. “And get your stuff out of my bathroom.”

  One corner of his mouth turned up in a half grin. Shay did her best to ignore the dimple winking next to it.

  “But isn’t this the bathroom for these two bedrooms to share?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then I’m sure this is what Hank meant for me to do. I promise I won’t get into your cosmetics. They probably aren’t my skin tone, anyway.”

  “You’re trying to drive me crazy, right?”

  His rich, low laugh made the pulse between her thighs throb like a drum. “Would I do that?”

  She started to roll her suitcase out of the room as if everything was settled when strong male fingers closed over her arm.

  “Hold on just a minute. That cap. I’ve seen that cap before.”

  “My cap?” She frowned. “I doubt it. I’ll bet there’s a million red caps out there and this one is one of a kind.”

  She tried to pull away but Joe’s grip on her was firm.

  “But that’s a distinctive red.” He frowned. “Let’s see. You’re just getting home from out of town. You flew in from New York. Not too many flights from there to here landing at this time. I don’t have to be too bright to think you might be the idiot who tossed her drink all over me on the plane.”

  Her stomach plummeted. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

  He moved to block her path. “I don’t think so.” He reached behind her head and tugged on her ponytail. “I definitely think you’re the culprit. I should make you pay for my dry cleaning.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” She had to get away from him. His nearness was driving her nuts and his touch sent threads of heat to various parts of her body. “Send me the bill.”

  He tipped her chin up with one finger. When his eyes looked directly into hers, everything in her body went liquid. All her damn danger signs were flashing. He was just playing with her, nothing more. Just being Joe. She needed to remember that.

  “I’d say it entitles me to guest privileges here, too. Don’t you agree?”

  He wasn’t going to leave. That much was obvious.

  “I said I’d pay for the damn dry cleaning. Just leave the stuff on the counter in the utility room.”

  “I think that’s worth a lot more than just paying a bill,” he repeated. “Even more than house privileges. I should get special privileges. Like maybe having you cook my dinner, too.” Laughter lurked in his eyes.

  “In your dreams,” she snapped. She knew he was yanking her chain, and he was doing a good job of it. Somehow she would find a way to get him out of the house while she still had her wits about her. Good thing she was more than over Joe Reilly. If only every one of her nerve endings didn’t sizzle when he was within two feet of her.

  He chuckled, obviously enjoying himself. “Maybe I can think of a few more things to add to the list.”

  “Forget it. Not happening.” She pushed past him, tugging her suitcase. “You clean up after yourself and don’t leave a mess in the kitchen.” At the door to her bedroom she looked back at him.

  “Just be sure to stay out of my way. And if you insist on sharing the bathroom you’d damn well better keep it clean. House rules. I don’t even want to see a razor lying on the sink.”

  “Wow. Stiff rules.” He laughed again. “I’ll do my best not to break any of them.”

  Shay slammed the door to her bedroom and threw herself on her bed. Great. Just freaking great. She didn’t have enough stress in her life. Now she was forced to deal with Joe Reilly as a temporary housemate. Lying there with her arm over her eyes, something else occurred to her. She jumped up, yanked open the door, and stormed into the living room. Joe, unfortunately, was not there. She found him in the room he was using, pulling a shirt out of a suitcase.

  Shay stopped, momentarily mesmerized by the sight of his solid chest with its dusting of dark hair. Again her pulse thrummed and th
e blood heated in her veins. She scrubbed at her cheeks that suddenly felt too hot.

  Please don’t let him notice.

  “Come right in,” he teased, slipping the soft, collared shirt over his head. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  “How long?” she demanded.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s an ambiguous question. How long what?”

  “Will you be here, damn it. How long?”

  That sexy laugh rumbled out again. “Ready to toss me out so soon?”

  She fisted her hands. “I just want to know when you plan to leave.”

  He shrugged. “When I finish my business. Hank said no rush.”

  “Argh!” She stamped her foot, then immediately regretted it. He’d never see her as a woman if she kept acting like a child. Oh, wait. He’d never see her that way at all. She let out a calming breath. “So? When?”

  The grin disappeared from his face.

  “Shay, is there some reason you don’t want me here? I thought we were friends.”

  “Friends?” she squeaked. “What makes you say that? You never treated me as anything but Hank’s pain-in-the-ass little sister. We were never friends. And it’s too late to start now. Trust me.”

  The look he gave her ignited every space in her body. The air around them crackled with sudden, unexpected sexual energy and the heat that flared in his eyes shocked her. Holy hell. She swallowed hard and sent a silent message to her body to behave. Now, after so long, was not the time to respond to Joe’s masculine sexuality. Actually, for her sanity, the time would be—never.

  “So what’s the answer?” she persisted, ignoring the hungry look Joe suddenly gave her.

  “The answer,” he drawled, “is I don’t know. Preseason’s not for a couple more months. That gives me time before I have to be back to get ready for the show. I have some things to take care of here.” His gaze seemed to bore into her. “Maybe as long as I’m around we can try to be…friends.”

  “Friends.”

  His gaze took a leisurely tour of her body again, as if mentally cataloging each of her assets. It took every bit of self-control to tear her eyes away, but the new Shay wasn’t going to be tempted.