by Cindi Madsen
Shannon’s sudden obsession with net worth came from her issues with her last freeloading boyfriend, which was why she now had a salary requirement for the guys she was willing to consider dating.
But Charlotte hardly cared about that. Of course, it was easy to say money didn’t matter when you were sleeping on Egyptian cotton sheets in a five-star hotel room you’d arrived at by flying across the country in a private jet.
While her family had never been anywhere near the same wealth stratosphere as the Quaids, she’d experienced life with and—after Dad lost everything they had—without money. While it definitely made things easier in a lot of ways, it was far from the most important thing to her.
Especially when it came to guys—to her boyfriend.
Under Lance’s all-business exterior beat a heart of gold. His brashness came from his desire to change the team and to do what was best for it. And in spite of how difficult it’d been for him to swallow his pride, he’d been a trouper about calling and apologizing to their old/new CFO.
At the end of the wedding rehearsal, he’d made sure they stopped to say goodbye to his nephews, his sister and her husband, and his parents. They’d been hand in hand when Lance told his mom she’d be happy to know he’d considered what she’d talked to him about, and that Charlotte was now his work associate and his girlfriend.
The woman had embraced her so tightly that Charlotte could still feel the residual hug, feel the acceptance and happiness that’d flowed through her veins.
It was like a damn fairy tale.
She was far from a princess, but she did love her shoes. Enough she wouldn’t go losing one of them like Cinderella. She’d rather a guy see her in rags and talking to mice than leave one of her pretties behind.
The idea of a football princess hit her, and she smiled at her silly, late-night thoughts.
This was going to work. She’d never truly believed she could have it all and had given up on fairy tales long ago, and yet… She looked at Lance again. She snuggled up next to him, and when he automatically reached out for her and pulled her closer, she kissed his cheek.
It wasn’t until sleep had nearly sucked her under that she realized she’d never called her dad.
…
Charlotte lifted her satiny pink skirt and strode down the hall in her unbuckled silver heels as quickly as she dared, her suitcase trailing behind her. She’d been nearly done curling her hair when Lance had texted and said he needed her for a call—the call—ASAP.
She slid her key into the hotel room, swearing when it flashed red instead of green. Before she could try again, Lance swung open the door.
“Maybe we should increase the offer. I’m sure he could get a higher salary with…” His gaze ran down her, snagging at the slit that came halfway up her thigh. She’d wondered if she should pin it together to ensure it remained in the proper range, but as his eyes heated, she decided that from time to time, a little impropriety was in order. As long as she didn’t show up the bride she was good, and she’d seen Stacy’s dress right before they’d taken the photos of the female portion of the wedding party—that was hardly a risk.
“With who?”
“Huh?” Lance said, jerking his head back up. In his black slacks and open white shirt, he was quite the sight himself.
She smiled, a thrill going through her. Not only because he was all hers, but also because she’d managed to elicit such a strong reaction from him. Maybe breaking the rules now and then did have its advantages. “You were in the middle of a sentence.”
“Right. I…” He leaned forward, bracketed her head in his hands, and kissed her. His mouth was urgent and demanding, and she happily acquiesced and let him devour her. By the time he broke the kiss, they were both breathless. He exhaled and rested his forehead against hers. “That was supposed to help put kissing you out of my head so I could focus. But now I’m getting other ideas, and I don’t have time for ideas. Unless it’s a genius plan on how to increase our budget without increasing it.”
“That…would be impressive. Maybe not so much realistic, though.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “It’ll be enough.”
“But he could probably get more from another team.”
“He doesn’t want another team. He wants to play for the Mustangs and turn them into a championship-winning team. To do that, we still need to acquire several other players. He’ll understand that, and we can negotiate a bit if we need to.”
A bit meant about half a million to a million in this instance, which was mind-blowing when she thought about it, but even that would be tricky.
Lance’s phone rang. “It’s Gavin.”
Charlotte smacked his ass like one of his fellow teammates would do on the field. “Go get us a quarterback.”
…
Without ever taking her eyes off her laptop screen, Charlotte poured a couple of fingers of whiskey in a glass and pushed it toward him. “Drink that. I’ve got this part.”
She was quite the sight, standing there in that pale pink dress, the rapid tap tap tap of her keyboard filling the air. He sipped from the glass as instructed, but what he was really drinking in was the way her hair was swept to the opposite side of her face, exposing her neck. The back of her dress dipped low, and he got lost in staring at all the creamy skin and thinking about how she clearly wasn’t wearing a full bra.
Then he wondered if she was wearing one at all, and he could hardly believe his thoughts were so wrapped up in her instead of the huge deal he’d just made— Charlotte was typing up the official offer sheet now.
“Why are your shoes undone?” he asked.
The silver strappy things got a brief glance. “You said you needed me ASAP, and the buckles are tiny and complicated, and I have to twist up my leg to get the right angle, and I’ll worry about it later.”
He squatted and fumbled with the ankle strap, his big fingers adding an extra challenge to securing the tiny buckle, but he finally secured one and then the other. He might’ve also brushed the smooth skin of her calves a bit more than necessary.
The printer whirred to life, and she said, “There’s the official offer sheet. You can read through it real quick and then I’ll send it to Gavin’s agent.”
From there the Pythons would have first right of refusal, meaning they could still match the offer and retain him, and if they took five days to decide it’d feel like a wheel-spinning eternity.
Even though he had no doubt that Charlotte had been thorough, he wanted to hold the solid proof of the offer in his hands, so it could feel real. For the first time ever, he understood her obsession with paperwork.
“What would I do without you?” he asked as his eyes skimmed down the page. His nerves were frayed, his hands shaky—and they were never shaky. He’d prided himself on how steady he’d been during his career, even during the big games. No need to talk about the nights before, because he’d always pulled himself together come coin toss time. But he’d just offered a lot of money to a player, gambling he’d be the captain they needed to help turn the team around and make it to playoffs this upcoming season. He was sure it was the right call, but still…
“Probably insult people, ignore paperwork, and pay too much for a quarterback.”
“Rhetorical questions are more supposed to go unanswered,” he teased back. “You could just choose to feel flattered and say something like, ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, either, you handsome, brilliant devil.’”
“Next time print me up a script, will ya?”
He shook his head, a smile breaking free. “Like you’d follow it.”
“Depends on whether or not it played by the rules.”
He lowered his lips to the neck he couldn’t stop staring at. Her sharp intake of breath spurred him on, and he flicked out his tongue. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”
“Clock’s on,” she said, her voice raspy.
He lightly dragged his teeth over her soft, heavenly scented skin. He blindly fumble
d around for a pen on the desk, quickly signed the papers, and handed them back to her.
“And the electronic signature, too. Unless you want me to go old-school and scan it in.”
The trackpad and his finger made for a sloppy approximation of his signature, and as she typed in an email address, he stood behind her and kissed the back of her neck, the top of her bare shoulder…
“Sent,” she said, and then she turned to face him. Finally he could get his lips on hers. “How long do you have till you need to get over to the annex?”
As much as he hated to look, it was a valid question. He couldn’t be late to his brother’s wedding. “Twenty-five minutes.” He returned his phone to his pocket and secured an arm around her waist, drawing her against him. “Just enough time for Part I of what I have planned for you.”
“No way,” she said, tipping her head to the side to give his lips better access to her neck. “This dress isn’t easy to get into—and neither are the shoes, which thank you for your help with them—and I don’t have time to get ready again.”
He slid his hand up her thigh, parting the slit in her skirt wider. “Good thing your dress came equipped with easy access.”
Her chest heaved against his, her lashes fluttering. “But my hair and my makeup, and…”
His fingers drifted higher, and he stroked her over the silky fabric of her blessedly tiny panties, a strangled groan coming out when he found them already damp. “What if I promise we can both get off without messing up your dress or your hair?”
Her lips skimmed up his jawline, up to his ear. “Then I’d say stop talking and start showing. We’ve already lost a few minutes with all this unnecessary chatting.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed her panties aside and stroked her again, smothering her moan with his mouth. She rolled her tongue over his, and he backed her up against the wall.
He wanted to free her breasts but decided that’d have to wait for Part II, later tonight. Right now it’d be fast and furious—just not so fast that she didn’t finish, and to make sure, he pushed a finger inside her.
The strangled noise she made sent his erection into raging territory, and he undid the button and fly of his pants with his free hand as he continued to pump into her.
He added another finger, curling them and searching for that spot that—
“Holy shit, right there,” she said, panting and arching her hips to take his fingers in deeper. He glanced from her face to his fingers inside of her, and he couldn’t decide which he wanted to watch more.
At her whimper, he looked up into those bottomless green eyes. Decision made. He increased the tempo of his fingers, watching as pleasure flickered across her features in waves. Her muscles tightened, her release close, and he lowered his lips to hers. He stroked her tongue with his, mimicking the movement of his fingers, and her fingernails dug into his arms as her orgasm took hold.
He slowly brought her back down, pride going through him at the sated expression on her face. There was something else in the mix, something that felt more serious. His chest tightened as that adoration and awe echoed through him, and he searched for the right words but came up empty.
Maybe later tonight he’d find them. Right now they didn’t have enough time for messy emotions anyway.
He was about to take her right there against the wall, but then he remembered the condoms were in the bedroom. “Hold on to me,” he said, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
He maneuvered them through the hall and around the large bed. He grabbed a foil square out of the nightstand drawer and made quick work of the wrapper. He rolled the condom in place, not bothering to take the time to fully shed his clothes.
Any minute his phone would start ringing, his family members wondering where he was.
Just a few minutes of getting lost in Charlotte and then I’ll be ready for the rest of the long evening.
He pushed everything out of his mind besides the sexy woman in front of him. It was a struggle not to thread his hands through her hair, but he’d promised not to mess it up. After the wedding when they returned to his room, he’d make sure she looked as ravaged as possible. For now, he’d happily focus on pinning her to the wall and making himself at home between her thighs.
He kept thinking he’d get used to having sex with her—or not get used to, because he no longer thought that was a possibility with Charlotte—but more like not be on the verge of explosion at the first thrust.
Luckily this time, speed was the name of the game, and within a few thrusts she was crying his name as they roared over the edge together.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and half-carried, half-walked her into the bathroom to clean up. As he redid his pants and tucked in his shirt, she smoothed down her skirt.
His phone began to ring and time was up. He slipped his bow tie underneath the collar and answered.
“On my way,” he said to his mom as he tied the ridiculous thing at his throat. “Just finishing up a…” He gave Charlotte a wink. “Business transaction.”
“Thanks for making me sound like a hooker,” Charlotte said as soon as he hung up.
“Oh, did you want me to tell my mother we were just finishing up a hot sex session? I worried that’d be TMI, but I’ll clear it up when I see her in a few minutes.”
Charlotte smacked his arm. “Don’t you dare.” She reached up and wiped lipstick off his mouth and jaw.
He grabbed his jacket off the chair in the corner, too hot to put it on just yet. “See you out there. Will you be okay?”
“I’ll find a way to occupy myself.” She pivoted toward the mirror, using her thumb to swipe at the lipstick that’d also been smeared on his lips and skin moments ago. “I’m going to need to touch up my makeup since someone decided to make a mess of it.”
Mere minutes after he was buried inside her, and he grew hard again, his body already ready for round two. Since she was going to redo her lipstick anyway, he kissed her again. “Save a dance for me, okay?”
“I’ll see if I can fit you in,” she said with a self-assured smugness that he liked seeing her own. Then she shoved him toward the door. “Go before your mom calls me— I’m not nearly as good at making up stuff on the fly, and I’ll end up confessing everything.”
He pushed open the door, casting one last glance at her because he was going to miss her—which was crazy. Missing her when she’d be only a few feet away and he’d be able to talk to her in an hour or so?
“And don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye out for a counteroffer and text you the second I hear any news from Gavin or from the Pythons.”
What was even crazier was that he’d managed to forget there was an offer hanging in the balance. She was so perfect, having his back now, just like she’d had through this entire process.
He muttered a “thank you” and rushed toward the annex where the wedding party would be gathered. He tried to clear his head so he could focus on the ceremony and not offers or trades or Charlotte. But what became crystal clear was that in spite of all the other madness going on in his life, he’d managed to completely lose his mind over the woman.
Chapter Twenty-Four
There was nothing like a wedding to make you long for a relationship, long for a person who’d look at you like his world revolved around you and who would always be there for you.
For the past several months, Charlotte had congratulated herself on realizing that she didn’t need anyone. Patted herself on the back for giving up on the idea of being a part of a duo, because when it came down to it, she’d been mostly alone a large chunk of her life, and she was best that way. She got to choose when she did things and how, and no one hurt her feelings, and…
It was all bullshit. As much as she’d tried to convince herself she’d be perfectly happy as a me, myself, and I, she’d seen the Quaids and how they were all there for each other. She wanted that. To be part of something more. To have a group that’d be more supportive than d
raining.
The damn love bug was in full force this evening, and she’d caught it bad.
Honestly, even if she weren’t in a decorated reception center, surrounded by dressed-up people who’d been telling stories about the couple even before they’d walked down the aisle, the longing would still be there.
Because that guy standing up front next to his brother had made it rise up and take hold. Not only was he devastatingly sexy and smart, he listened to her and valued her opinion. The way he held her and kissed her… It made her feel things she thought she’d never feel.
He caught her eye and gave her a devilish smile that sent her stomach somersaulting.
I’m falling so hard.
Panic roiled inside her, but on its heels came the reminder of how things had changed. They’d lowered their walls and let each other in. He’d called her his Sam, told her he didn’t know what he’d do without her, and said he wanted to be with her. That made it okay to embrace the fall.
Right?
Her phone chimed, and her eyes flew wide.
Shit, shit, shit. She’d been sure she silenced it.
This dress didn’t exactly have pockets, either, so she’d shoved it into her cleavage and now…well, now if she didn’t go digging—witnesses be damned—it might chime again.
Or worse, ring.
The people around her gave her stern, reproachful glares as she unearthed her phone.
Her thumb quickly flicked the switch to silence it, and her gaze snagged on Lance’s— He was looking at her, fighting a laugh.
She tried to silently convey with her expression it wasn’t funny. Not to mention it was basically his fault. After all, she’d only turned it on again so that if someone texted back about…
O-M-G! Excitement zipped through her as she read the words on her phone screen, one strong blast after another, and she fought the urge to dance-bounce in her seat.
Since she didn’t want to disturb the wedding any more than she accidentally had, she dropped her phone in her lap and concentrated on the ceremony. The bride and groom were about to exchange vows.
