The Sport of Romance: A Multi-Author Box Set

by Cari Quinn

  Would that even work? He laughed at his own absurdity and the contraction of his abdomen intensified his need to pee. Xavier groaned. He seriously needed to get his butt out of the bed right now. Otherwise, he would have to replace the mattress. And he liked this mattress.

  If he didn’t hurry, he’d have company. And he didn’t need Frankie holding him while he pissed. Good hell, she’d already done too much for him, making him damn uncomfortable.

  He’d just finished and was making his way back to the bed when she appeared in the doorway.

  “I heard the toilet flush. Are you okay?”

  “Of course I’m okay.” Damn, he sounded pissy. And the roll of her blue eyes didn’t improve his mood.

  “How’s your pain?”

  “Fine.” Another roll of the eyes sent his temper into furious. “I don’t need the attitude, Doc.”

  “Right back atcha, X.” She popped her hands on her hips and glared at him. It didn’t seem to matter how belligerent he got, she matched his aggression with patient, pigheaded determination. Her resolve deepened his respect for her, and caused lust to kick his ass. She took a step toward him. “Are you hungry?”

  He opened his mouth to bite her head off, tell her to go to hell and draw the freakin’ map on how to get there, but his stomach growled and he thought better of it. He was hungry. Grouchy as he was, his growling gut wouldn’t improve his mood.

  “Yeah. I am.”

  She smiled and reached a hand out to him. “Let’s get you back in bed and I’ll bring you something to eat. How’s your stomach? Can you handle something significant or—”

  “I’m starving!”

  Her soft laugh melted his frosty exterior. “You like pancakes?”

  “You shouldn’t have to cook me breakfast, Doc. A bowl of cereal will be just fine. And I can get it myself.”

  His attempt at self-sufficiency encountered an adamant shake of her head. “No way, X. I’m here to take care of all your needs.”

  He refused to let his thoughts consider that little tidbit. He swallowed hard, cleared his throat. “There are some Eggo’s in the freezer.”

  “I can cook.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to.”

  “Your lack of faith in me is offensive.” Her eyes twinkled as she teased. “Climb into bed and I’ll—”

  “I’m not sitting in bed while you’re playing maid. It’s bad enough you’re pulling the whole Florence Nightingale act.”

  “I am a doctor.” She frowned. “It’s not much of a stretch.”

  Well, hell, now he’d offended her. “I’m sorry. I just hate this.”

  “I know.”

  “Will you help me down to the kitchen, so I can at least sit at the table like an adult?”

  A smile slowly crept onto her face. She bit her lip, trying to hide it from him. He laughed low, refused to acknowledge the twinge in his shoulder, and shook his head. She was pretty damned adorable for being so blasted annoying.

  “Come on, big guy.”

  He hated leaning on her, hated needing her, but she was right—not that he’d ever tell her.

  He couldn’t do it without her. And of all the people in his life, she’d very quickly become the one he didn’t want seeing him so weak and vulnerable. Yet, she’d also become the only person on earth he trusted to protect him.

  Talk about irony.

  * * *

  Frankie got Xavier settled at the kitchen table and turned. And stopped. The bank of hickory cupboards greeted her with their beautiful smiling variations of browns. As she stared, unsure of where to start, Xavier chuckled.

  “Eggos are in the freezer. Toaster is in the cabinet next to the dishwasher.”

  She opened and closed the heavy wooden doors, finding dishes, pans, cups. “I’m not making Eggos. Point me to your baking supplies. Flour, sugar—”

  His laugh cut her off. She turned to see him standing in the doorway next to the refrigerator. His wide grin contained humor, and was damn sexy.

  “I think you’ll find everything you’re looking for in here.” He flipped the light on and a halo appeared around him, silhouetting him, making him look like a heavenly being.

  And for a split second she wanted to drop to her knees and worship every smoldering inch of him, from his sexy smile and his twinkling hazel eyes to his perfect straight toes. She licked her lips and blinked.

  His smile shifted into a smirk. “You admirin’ me or my pantry?”

  She stomped down the embarrassment screaming through her and prayed the heat she felt in her cheeks wasn’t a flame of red betraying her. Adding an exaggerated eyeroll and a huffed scoff to her façade, she insisted her feet take her toward him. It was a dangerous move, bringing herself closer to him, but she liked danger. Rawr! Bring it!

  He stood like a sentry guarding the palace gate, his legs spread, his arms folded over his chest—well, the one he could move. His face, though, detracted from the don’t-even-try-it look. Damn him, he grinned like a court jester.

  She tried to get past him, but he was too damned big. She’d have to touch him, and she wasn’t sure getting up-close-and-personal was such a brilliant idea. Especially after the place her imagination had just taken her. And she did not want to go there with Xavier. Ever. That would only accomplish one thing: heart break. She needed to keep things professional.

  “You go sit.” She tapped his rock hard chest with her fingertip then pointed at the table. “All I want from you is direction.”

  “You like to take direction?” The deep rumble in his voice held potential and promise nearly causing her to melt into a puddle.

  “You need to stop that,” she snapped. “The only one taking direction here is you. And I’m directing you to sit yourself down at the table while I make us something to eat.”

  Damn, that smile of his should be registered as a deadly weapon. “But you just said—”

  “Sit.”

  “I like to give direction.”

  “Sit.”

  “I give great direction.”

  “Dammit, X! Sit your ass in the chair and lemme do my thing.”

  With an arrogant, smug grin in place, he strolled by her. The soft scrape of chair legs against tile made her jump. Christian hadn’t liked the idea of her being in close confines with Xavier. Crap! She hated when he was right. This situation had catastrophe written all over it.

  She ducked into the pantry and breathed deep. The enormous square room sported floor-to-ceiling shelving. She could have stood in the middle, opened her arms wide and spun without touching a shelf. Absolutely magnificent. When the day came that her mother agreed to move, Frankie would remember this pantry and add one in their new home.

  “Flour’s to the right in the large container,” Xavier’s voice called from the other room. “Sugar should be pretty close to it. You might have to open a new bag.”

  Xavier continued to surprise her. His pantry held all the staples. The room had it all. Completely stocked with everything a person would need to survive for months. She wasn’t sure why the state of his pantry shocked her. The guy had to eat. She’d just never taken him for the Betty Crocker type.

  She quickly gathered everything she needed and, with arms full, hurried toward the counter. She leaned over and let all the ingredients fall softly onto the granite. The bottle of oil fell and she fumbled to get it upright.

  “Okay.” She brushed a strand of hair back away from her face and caught the look on Xavier’s face. “What?”

  He blinked, ran a hand over his face, and cleared his throat. “Um, nothing. It’s just that I’ve never … um, you’re—”

  Shit, did she have something on her face? She rubbed at her cheek.

  He laughed softly. “No, you’re fine. You’re just the first woman to stand in my kitchen. It’s a little unnerving.”

  Her heart did a little dance at the knowledge of being the first feminine feet to stand in this particular spot, but it skittered to know that the fact
unnerved him.

  Her smile felt shaky. “Don’t worry, it won’t be long before you’ll have your domain back to yourself.”

  His face fell. “It’s not—”

  “Milk in the fridge?” Without waiting for an answer, she headed toward the silver appliance, unwilling to think too much on his reaction.

  The next half hour consisted of a lot of silence sprinkled with short verbal directives. She made a plate full of pancakes, contemplating exactly how bad this situation could be. She liked Xavier. A lot. Too much. And every second she spent with him, she liked him even more. If she wasn’t careful she might just fall for him. Which would be really painful when he wasn’t there to catch her.

  She needed some time alone. Now. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab a quick shower, then I’ll come back and clean up the kitchen once you’re finished.”

  * * *

  Xavier watched her leave. Something had changed her from playful to distant in a snap, turning her into an abandoned building, all boarded up windows, barred doors, complete with a ‘no trespassing’ sign. He wasn’t sure what had caused the change. And he didn’t like it. He preferred her teasing and defiant.

  He finished his breakfast, and listened to the quiet rush of water through the pipes servicing her shower. He wiped his mouth then stood to slip his plate in the sink. Slowly he put all the ingredients away. It didn’t take long, even with the hindrance of using only his left hand. After a couple of swipes across the table and the counter, he tossed the rag back into the sink and headed upstairs.

  Every part of him felt grungy. It’d been a couple days since he’d gotten clean and the need to spend a little time with a bit of soap and water became a craving he couldn’t shake. He sat down on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hand.

  “Are you okay?”

  His head jerked up and the rest of him swayed.

  Frankie rushed to his side and dropped down to peer up into his face. Her soft hands grabbed hold of his head, cradling his cheeks. Her worried eyes searched his.

  “Xavier, are you okay?”

  He shook his face out of her hold. “Yeah.”

  “You swayed.”

  “So did you.” As did the rest of his world. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. “I’m fine, Doc. You scared me. That’s all.” He tried to stand, but she pushed him back onto the mattress.

  “No way. You stay put.”

  “I need a shower.”

  She shook her head, a deep frown pulling her lips into a scowl. “Xavier.” Her tone was meant to soothe, he was sure, but instead, it patronized. And pissed him off.

  “Listen, Doc, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I can handle it from here. I’m sure you have better things to do anyway.”

  Her scowl tightened. “I assure you, I have nothing better to do. I am here until I say you can handle things on your own. And right now, I don’t.”

  He ground his teeth and glared up at her. “Get out.”

  “No.” She leaned forward, bending at the waist, getting in right his face, until her nose nearly met his. Her breath scalded his skin. His temperature rose.

  He slowly slid back from the table and stood, grateful when he didn’t sway. “If you don’t get the hell out of my house—”

  “You’ll what?” Her blue eyes glittered with determined defiance.

  “I will call the cops and have your ass thrown in jail.”

  He towered over her. His entire body shook, but whether from his fury or just barely being able to stay upright, he wasn’t sure. She stood her ground, not an ounce of surrender in her stance. She poked him in the chest and notched her chin higher.

  “On what charges?”

  “Trespassing.”

  “You invited me to stay. My stuff is in the guest room.” Another tap to his pectoral. “Try again.”

  He stepped around her, heading to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower. When I get out, you’d better be gone.”

  “No.”

  He whirled around to confront her, to show her exactly how much he wanted her to get out of his house. That was his intent. However, when he spun, once again, the room did as well. His knees went weak. His stomach pitched. He shoved his left hand out, hoping to ease the inevitable impact with the floor.

  “Xavier!” Strong, yet soft hands grabbed him. A small feminine body braced itself against his side. Her arm wrapped around his waist and held on tight. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

  He kept his eyes closed and breathed deeply through his nose. The world stopped spinning, and though he tried not to, he leaned into Frankie, accepting her assistance. Just this once. He straightened and cracked a lid. When the merry-go-round didn’t start again, he groaned.

  “I need a shower.”

  “Xavier, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Really?” He purposely rubbed his pit on the top of her head. “Wedged where you are, you’re still gonna give me that? I reek, Doc. Tilt your nose up a bit.”

  She snorted. An exhale, he noted.

  “I want a shower.”

  “Why don’t you lie down on the bed and I’ll get everything together for a sponge bath.”

  “Oh, hell no.” He waved a hand, shaking his head in violent jerks.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Even if you didn’t have stitches to keep dry, you couldn’t stand up long enough to get yourself clean.”

  She was probably right. Probably. But he’d be damned if he’d give in. He wanted a hot date … with his shower. Now.

  He shrugged her off and stumbled in the direction of the bathroom. Her shrieked protests and irritated footsteps followed him. He ignored both. By damn, he was an adult man, fully capable of taking a shower. He’d been doin’ it for years.

  “Xavier. Stop!” She grabbed hold his arm.

  He paused only because he’d made it to the doorway, his feet chilly against the tile. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a shower now.”

  “How exactly do you plan on keeping your stitches dry?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Dammit, Xavier! You have to keep those stitches dry for a couple more days.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  He turned just in time to see her cross her arms over her chest.

  “Really?” He laughed, feeling true humor. “And how exactly to you plan on stopping me?”

  “I’ll … um … well, then I’d have to—” Color flushed her cheeks and Xavier tried not to smile. Tried and failed. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Be reasonable.”

  “I stink. I want a shower. I don’t feel like being reasonable.”

  Her hands formed fists at her sides, her jaw locked closed and her lips all but disappeared. She closed her eyes. Seconds ticked by. Ten of them, if Xavier counted correctly. Her eyes flipped open and she sighed.

  “Okay. Fine. You want to get wet. I understand.” Another deep breath. “I propose a compromise.”

  “I’m listening.” He didn’t promise to agree. Her scowl suggested she’d caught that fact.

  “A bath.”

  “We already discussed this. No sponge bath.”

  “Not a sponge bath, X. A bath.”

  “What? Now you think I’m two?” His sharp bark of laughter made her jump.

  “What’s with you assuming I think you’re anything but the stubborn, too-handsome-for-your-own-good, frustratingly irritating man you are?”

  His heart jumped in his chest and he grinned. “You think I’m handsome?”

  “Shut up.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I am offering to help you into the bathtub, where you’ll sit in nice warm water and get clean. So you don’t reek anymore.”

  “You gonna wash my back?” He winked. “Or my front?”

  Another quick shake of her head. “If you’ll sit your ass in the bathtub, and forget the freakin’ shower, I’ll wash whatever you want.”

  He jo
gged his eyebrows. “Really?”

  The tinge of pink in her cheeks totally discredited her scoff. “Where are your swim trunks?”

  He placed a hand over his heart. “Oh, man, you really know how to disappoint a guy.”

  Her giggle sounded brittle and he couldn’t help but smile. He’d rattled her. It hadn’t been his intention to flirt with her, but damn, messing with her was even better.

  She stomped to the dresser and yanked open the top drawer. He knew what would greet her and chuckled when she shook her head. What could he say, he believed in being safe and he needed a place to store his collection.

  The next drawer down would reveal a whole lotta boxer briefs, mostly black. Then she’d find t-shirts, tank tops, workout shirts. One drawer lower and …

  She smiled victoriously. Just like he knew she would, she’d found his swim trunks, three pairs, along with a jockstrap or two—or ten.

  Normally Xavier was a private guy. He didn’t even bring women back to this place. His domain. His personal space. But for some reason having Frankie pawing through his very personal space didn’t bother him a bit. In fact, he kinda liked having her here. Except when she turned all pushy and demanding.

  He blinked and reached out to catch the trunks she threw at him.

  “Do you need help putting those on?”

  “If you’re gonna help me put these on, then why don’t I just stay naked?” Then it dawned on him. “Wait a second. You’re not gonna let me bathe alone, are you?”

  “Nope. Now put on those trunks. I’ll start the water and you holler when you’re ready. I’ll come back out to help you get in the tub.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then … we’ll deal with that then.”

  “Oh, good hell, Doc.”

  “Don’t fight me on this.”

  In that moment she reminded him of a bulldog with a bone. She was determined to get her way, and the harder he fought her, the more she dug her heels in. He wouldn’t win this battle with her. And the truth was, he was kinda exhausted. If he kept fighting her, he might end up getting a damned sponge bath.

  The water turned on and he slipped his fingers into the waistband of his sweats, sending them to the floor. Getting the trunks on using only one hand wasn’t the hardest thing he’d ever tried, but it wasn’t the easiest either. It took a few minutes to get them up his legs and settled onto his hips. He considered tying the strings to hold it in place, only to realize it didn’t matter. Tying a knot or a bow or anything would be impossible one-handed.