The Sport of Romance: A Multi-Author Box Set

by Cari Quinn

  “I assure you, Xavier, nobody thinks you’re a chick.”

  “Obviously you do, since you expect me to use that.”

  She shook her head. “It’s a resistance band, not a tampon.”

  His lips twitched, but his glare hardened. “I don’t do yoga. Or Pilates. So I don’t need a resistance band.” He flexed his left arm, the bicep going all hard and sexy. “I use weights. Free weights, barbells, medicine balls. Ya know, what men use. Those bands are for pussies.”

  Change of plans.

  She bent over at the waist and retrieved the bane of his existence, holding it out to him. It dangled limply while he stared at it with all the disgust in his two hundred and ten pound body.

  “I’ll make you a deal. You take this band and do all the exercises I give you, without complaining, and once you’ve done them all, then you can tackle some of your man weights. Okay?”

  Matthias Xavier III rivaled an ornery Brahma bull in that moment. X’s hazel eyes narrowed in irritated defiance. His nostrils flared with each puffed breath. His lips pulled tight into a slash. The muscle in his jaw jumped like his teeth had taken up hopscotch. She wondered if he considered running over the top of her and stomping her into the carpet.

  She didn’t blink. Didn’t so much as flinch.

  Show no fear! Rawr!

  She met the rage boiling in his eyes with determination, glaring back her frustration. Check her out! If any man besides Xavier looked at her that way, she’d be quaking in her Skechers. Or putting them to damn good use.

  Her chest rose with a deep, resolved sigh and he blinked. Well, not exactly. He dropped his gaze to watch her breasts press against the vibrant blue of her scrubs.

  His lip quirked. He shook his head. Amusement shone his eyes when he looked at her. “Well played, Doc.”

  She really hadn’t meant to use her ample chest to distract him, but she’d take the win any way she could.

  Except the standoff continued.

  She pushed the band toward him again. The disgusted look he sported made her double check to see if she hadn’t accidentally picked up a dog turd. Nope.

  “Listen, X, you have to work out your shoulder.”

  “I will.” He backed away from her. “My way.”

  She pulled the band between her hands, enjoyed the stretch of her muscles and the loud snap! announcing its release.

  “Don’t be such a baby!”

  Anger swirled in the room, and his charge came at her full force until his body bumped hers, pushing her into the wall. His left arm slammed into the wall next to her head. He winced as he lifted his right arm and she mocked him with a grin.

  His eyes narrowed even further, the hazel becoming a muddy brown. “I am not a baby.”

  She’d pushed him as far as he would bend. She’d retreat in order to rally the troops for the battle to be won another day.

  His chest heaved and his skin burned her hands. She pushed against his pecs. He didn’t move.

  “Xavier,” she soothed, “the band is the best—”

  “I’m not—”

  Without thought her hand covered his mouth, cutting off yet another protest. His breath warmed her fingers, the puffs like blasts from a hair dryer.

  He grunted something against her hand. She shook her head. “No, I’m the doctor. I’m sorry you’re pissed off. I’m real sorry you got injured in the first place. Certain things must be done if you’re going to have a chance of returning to the diamond. That’s the goal, right?”

  His beard scratched her fingers as he nodded.

  “Okay. We’re on the same page as far as that’s concerned.”

  His eyes softened, the animosity fading to annoyance.

  “Look, X, your rehab is going to be brutal. You’re going to have to do things you don’t like. It’s going to be uncomfortable, sometimes downright painful. I’m here. Every step of the way. But I want to make it very clear—” She ducked under his arm and hurried over to retrieve the band. “—I won’t tolerate this pissy, childish attitude of yours.”

  His glower reappeared in a flash. He stomped away from her, every muscle primed and ready for attack. He turned, anchored his hands on his hips. “I’m not a child.”

  This seemed to be a thing with him. Baby. Child. Both words had completely set him off. She wondered what in his history made those so appalling. She watched as he shutdown in front of her very eyes.

  With band in hand, she approached him again.

  He retreated, eyes wary. “I’m not a child,” he said again.

  “I know. I know.” She kept her voice soft and kind, hoping it didn’t sound condescending. This man had been injured by words and she desperately wanted to help him heal. “You’re not a baby, nor are you a child. And you are definitely not a chick.”

  He laughed slightly. The tension in his shoulders eased. He snatched the band from the hand at her side. “What do I have to do with this frickin’ thing?”

  As Frankie tied the resistance band to the doorknob and showed him the exercises he’d need to do, she couldn’t help but wonder about his reaction. She’d always known Xavier was a powerhouse, both on and off the diamond. His determination to be the best had followed him from his first stint with the Rockets through his entire career. Even now, with gritted teeth, he pushed through the exercises taxing his shoulder.

  Well, determination was her middle name. She liked puzzles and Xavier had just presented her a hell of a challenge.

  * * *

  Xavier wanted to curse. He was a connoisseur of foul language.

  But as Frankie crossed her arms over her chest and watched him tug at the stupid band again, he couldn’t bring himself to cuss. At least, not verbally. His mind, on the other hand, came up with a slew of choice words, all one syllable, all containing four letters and, what do you know, every damned one of them ended with an exclamation point. A big ol’ middle finger to the world.

  His shoulder hurt like a bitch. Who’d have thought such an insignificant strip of girlie ass rubber could cause this kinda bone deep ache? Duh! Wasn’t that the damn point?

  “That’s enough.” Frankie interceded with the tug and pull, taking hold of the extended plastic. “Let it go slowly.”

  He did. Then pulled it again.

  “I said that’s enough.” She grabbed onto the band with both hands. “I’m the boss, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  She anticipated his release on the band, and jerked back just in time to miss the snap. When the loud thwack of rubber against wood resonated through the room, he was glad she hadn’t been on the receiving end of that protest. She annoyed him, but he didn’t want to see her hurt. Especially by his idiotic attempts of defiance.

  “Sorry.”

  An eye roll was all the answer he got. “Would you still like to work with some weights?”

  He grinned, feeling the first tingle of happiness since… Well, it’d been a long time. “Yeah.”

  “I don’t want you working your arms. Legs only.”

  And wasn’t that like a bucket of ice water to his flicker of cheerful.

  She laughed lightly. “Don’t look so sad. One step at a time, big guy. How about tomorrow we head down to the gym and work out there?”

  Xavier liked the idea with one tiny exception. “The band stays here.”

  “X—”

  “No. I don’t want to look like a weakling in front of those guys.”

  One strand of blond hair fought its boundaries, but she was all over it, tucking it behind her ear. Ruby lips pursed and she shook her head. Deep sigh. Long breath.

  “Okay. Fine. The band stays here.” She turned to untie the band from the doorknob. “You hungry?”

  “Starved.” He tilted his head and groaned at the pungent scent wafting off him. “But I seriously need to get clean.”

  Understanding radiated in her kind eyes and gentle smile. “Do you need help?”

  Over the last week, she’d helped him with everything and h
e’d not entertained a sexual thought during the process. Probably because he was too busy being humiliated by the mother/infant act. But right now, her being a mother or him being a child was definitely not on his mind.

  He glanced at her strong, yet delicate hands and envisioned them moving over his skin, spreading soap and seduction in their wake. His body reacted. How could it not? He was a guy for hell’s sake! He dropped his hands to hide which part of him definitely, most insistently wanted her help.

  “I’m not hard. I mean, it’s not hard.” He shook his head and felt heat rise in his cheeks at her giggle. “No, thanks. I can handle it.”

  Another giggle accompanied her departure, and he did curse then. He let all those words from earlier fly, in living color, right out into the middle of his room. Yeah, he could handle taking a shower, it seemed to be his mouth—and his brain—he couldn’t control.

  Chapter Ten

  Xavier guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised to find Frankie making lunch in his kitchen. She’d made herself at home and, dammit, he kinda liked having her around.

  She stood at the counter, slathering mayonnaise onto slices of bread. Her quiet hum revealed her tranquility. The knife banged against the glass of the jar. She pulled the utensil out and looked into the bottle like the sound lied and it was full.

  Xavier smiled as she wiped the knife on the edge of the bread, placed it in the sink and wrote mayonnaise on an impromptu list she’d started on a piece of paper attached to the fridge with a magnet.

  Feelings rose and warred at that knowledge. He liked having her here, but she wasn’t staying. Eventually she would leave and he…

  Well, he didn’t give a shit. The sooner she got her big nose out of his business, the better.

  “Hey, big guy. You hungry?”

  He hadn’t realized he stared at her. Scowled at her actually. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll make a run to the grocery store for you this afternoon.”

  He nearly bit his tongue clean off to keep himself from snapping at her again. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, and, deep down, he felt bad for it. She was only trying to help. Because it’s her job.

  Shit.

  “Xavier.”

  His scowl deepened. “What?”

  She smiled. “Have a seat.” At his grunt, she motioned to the table. “After we eat, we’ll work on your shoulder again.”

  “I’m not using that damned band twice in one day. I think I had to give up a corner on my mancard this morning.”

  She laughed. “I promise you’ll enjoy what I have in mind.”

  His mind immediately went to sex. Of course. It seemed every damned time she entered his line of sight his libido took notice.

  She must have boarded his train of thought because she shook her head, her giggles turned a bit husky. Color seeped into her cheeks.

  “Maybe not that much.” She placed the sandwich on the table in front of him when he sat. “I’m gonna grab a couple things out of my car. You eat. I’ll be right back.”

  “Did you eat?” If she insisted on taking care of him, he could at least make sure she took care of herself, too.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I didn’t ask how you were.” He shook his head. “I asked if you’d eaten.”

  Her blush darkened. “I picked at the ham while making your sandwich. So I’m … fine.”

  Satisfied with her answer, he didn’t question her, and she didn’t wait for further interrogation. She hurried out of the kitchen. He heard the front door open and a few minutes later he heard a lot of bumps and grunts.

  He rinsed his plate and placed it in the sink, then went out into the living room to see what Frankie was up to. “Hey, sweet thang, what’s—”

  She looked up from her half-unfolded massage table and smiled, big and cheesy. “How about we take that brace off, and I’ll see if I can ease some of that tension out of your shoulders.”

  “You’re just trying to get me naked.” And damn if his groin didn’t really like the idea. He put his hands in front of his crotch.

  “You got me.” She shook her head and laughed, loud and mocking. “Now strip.”

  Her teasing withered his ego, as well as other parts of him. Her ability to verbally castrate him cut to the core, especially since she didn’t have a clue she affected him. To her, his come-ons were a joke. He supposed they were.

  He yanked at the Velcro on his brace and the resounding riiip! made him think of peeling his skin off. Her fingers brushed his chest as she helped him with the brace. Every part of him went rigid.

  * * *

  She took the brace and set it on his recliner. She turned around and slapped the table. “Come on, big boy, hop on up here.”

  Oh, this was such a bad idea. He sat on the edge of the table and snorted. “Do I really have to lay down?”

  “Unless you want me to have to kneel on the table behind you.”

  Images, vivid and in all-too-detailed color, flashed through his brain. He choked back a groan.

  “I’ll lay down.” While I still can.

  He put his face in the hole and admired the wood of his floor. He didn’t want her to touch him, and yet, at the same time, he’d never wanted to feel a woman’s hands on his naked body more.

  Through the hole, he saw her feet. He’d never noticed how small they were. She wore those fancy exercise shoes with the rounded bottoms, and she rocked back and forth, heel to toe. He heard her clap her hands and the shh, shh, shh of her palms rubbing together.

  “I’m just warming my hands.”

  Like that was necessary. If she got any hotter, he might burst into flames when she touched him. He swallowed hard. He didn’t like this situation, didn’t like liking her the way he did.

  He’d always respected her, thought she was an okay looking woman, but getting to know her these last few weeks, she’d wormed her way into his heart.

  And there wasn’t a woman alive worthy of residing there.

  The second her hands skimmed over his good shoulder, he flinched. Big time. Almost sending himself tumbling off the table.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was going to touch you.”

  “Just do your thing, Doc.” Get the torture over with!

  Frankie’s touch started out gentle, rubbing over his shoulders, moving up over his neck, then down his spine. As her hands, slick with sweet-smelling oil, teased over his obliques, he bit back a moan. His every cell hummed. He throbbed and needed. It was a good thing he laid on his stomach, and if she asked him to roll over, he’d have to deny her. He couldn’t let her see what having her hands on him did to him.

  She stroked and rubbed and massaged and Xavier wanted to fall to his knees and worship her. Her hands moved down his back, her thumbs digging into his spine. He groaned, the sound an erotic one, and Frankie chuckled.

  “Feels good, huh?”

  “So good,” he moaned.

  “Want to flip over and—”

  “No.”

  Her touch stuttered. “Um, okay. I’d like to get the front of your shoulder.”

  “It’s fine.” He sat up, making sure to rest his hands in his lap. “You’re a goddess. I feel totally rejuvenated.”

  Man, he was a good liar. Every muscle in his body remained taut, and that was nothing compared to the party going on beneath his boxers.

  * * *

  Xavier jumped off the table and nearly flew out of the room. Frankie didn’t understand him. She’d tried her best to ease his tension, to help him relax, but instead he seemed even more tense. Not to mention his mad dash for the stairs.

  She wasn’t sure she would survive his temper. She cared about him. More than she should, if her meltdown earlier was any kind of gauge. His insults hurt. His dismissal stung. His retreat wounded.

  Obviously he didn’t enjoy playing the part of patient. Truth be told, she was getting pretty tired of it, too. Every time she turned around his mood changed. She discovered a playful side she hadn’t realized he had.
He could make her laugh.

  But as she heard the bedroom door upstairs slam, she wanted to cry.

  What the hell was wrong with him? Him? What the hell was wrong with her?

  She strolled into the kitchen and washed the oil from her hands. Returning to the living room, she made quick work of gathering her things. She muscled the table out the front door and shoved it into the trunk of her car.

  By the time she walked back in the door she’d made a decision. She would leave. She would let him brood and stew all by himself and try again tomorrow.

  The door opened all by itself, at least that’s how it appeared until Xavier stepped from behind it.

  “Hi.” He crowded her, his hand raised, his knuckles stroking her cheek. He offered her a tight smile. “I shouldn’t have run off like that. I, um … needed a minute.” His hand plowed through his hair. “I’m sorry I’m an ass.”

  “You’re very good at it.” She aimed for a smile and probably missed it by a mile.

  He frowned, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. She sucked in a breath. Her heart thundered in her ribcage.

  “I hate this.” He lifted his elbow a bit. “I never was very good at being sick.”

  “Really,” she breathed, “I never would have guessed.”

  He leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek. “I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me.” He kissed her other cheek. “No matter what I say—” He kissed her nose. “—or do—” He gently, tenderly, brushed his lips across the corner of her mouth. “—I want you to remember that.”

  “I … I should go.” She needed space. Now. Because if she didn’t get away from him, she was going to do something she’d regret. Something he’d hate her for. Something that would forever ruin their friendship.

  His eyes searched her face, stopping on her lips. “I think you should stay.”

  Oh, how she wanted to.

  “I have a meeting.” She ducked under his arm and headed for the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”

  Out the door, down the porch, she paused when she got to her car. Damn, her purse.