The All-Star Antes Up (Wager of Hearts #2)

by Nancy Herkness

  “I need a distraction,” she said to herself, picking up the phone and dialing Patty’s cell number.

  “Miranda, how did you know?” her sister-in-law greeted her.

  “Know what?”

  “That I was about to call you. I just brought Theo home from school because he has a fever, and Percy, the new hired hand, has been out sick for two days. So I’ve been helping Dennis, but now I have to take care of Theo. Any chance you have a day off this weekend?”

  “This weekend?” Dismay tightened her throat. “I’m off on Sunday. I could come up first thing in the morning.”

  “Could you come after work on Saturday? Assuming you’re not on the late shift.” Patty blew out a breath. “Dennis can barely handle all the milking and cheese making when Percy’s here full-time. I don’t want him to exhaust himself now that I can’t pitch in.”

  Of course she could . . . if she gave up her chance of seeing Luke one last time. Her conscience battled with her deepest, darkest desires. Of course, Luke hadn’t said anything about seeing her Saturday night. She was just assuming, hoping.

  “I’ll drive up Saturday right after work.” Regret seared through her like a hot dagger, but she couldn’t leave her brother to face all the farm chores alone. “Can you find another hand for next week, in case Percy is still sick?”

  “Everyone around here is coming down with the flu, so it’s going to be tough.” Patty sighed. “I’m just praying that Dennis and I don’t get sick. We both got flu shots, but you never know if those are going to work.”

  “Here they’re calling it an epidemic. Our messenger has spent the last two days running to drugstores, picking up prescriptions for our residents.”

  Patty groaned. “Well, stay away from unhealthy people, and no swapping spit with anyone. I need you hale and hearty. Seriously, sweetie, you are the best sister-in-law ever.”

  Patty had no idea of how very saintly Miranda felt at this moment, giving up the prospect of her last date with Luke Archer. However, she did not intend to follow the no-spit-swapping rule tonight. Miranda forced a smile into her voice. “Remind Dennis of that the next time he’s giving me grief. Tell poor Theo I’ll bring up a Shake Shack treat for him.”

  “That will cure him faster than all the meds in Doc Redding’s office.”

  Miranda disconnected and grabbed her spotted stress ball out of the drawer. “Stupid cows!” she said, hurling it against the wall so hard it ricocheted back behind her.

  That reminded her of Luke catching it when he’d walked in the door, and she lowered her head into her hands with a long, agonized moan. She’d been tormented about only having two more nights with Luke. Now it was down to one.

  “It’s better this way,” she muttered. The more time she spent with him, the more involved she became. This would limit the damage. “Who am I kidding? It stinks.”

  She got up and closed her door so she could eat her lunch in peace. As she walked back to her desk, her cell phone buzzed. Swiping it up, she checked the caller ID, her heart flipping when she saw Luke’s name.

  She froze, trying to decide whether to tell him about Saturday night. But he hadn’t asked her to meet him. Maybe because it was the night before a game, he couldn’t go out, even though he wasn’t playing in it. And he’d never answered her question about whether he had sex before a game.

  She would wait until she saw him tonight.

  She swiped her finger over the phone and said, “I can’t look at my front door without thinking of you.”

  She heard him suck in a sharp breath of surprise, but he recovered quickly. “I can’t look at play diagrams without thinking of you. Or at the weight room. Definitely not at the weight room.”

  Miranda felt the heat rising and melting her insides. “Play diagrams? Really?”

  “All those Xs and Os.”

  Who’d have thought the big, tough football player could see hugs and kisses in a play diagram? “You win.”

  “Always do, sugar.” His drawl was like warm molasses.

  She switched to a more serious subject. “How did it go with Trevor?”

  His heavy silence answered her before he did. “I threw him out. Nicely.”

  “Nicely?”

  “I told him my driver would take him anywhere he wanted to go.”

  “Did you talk to him first?”

  Another heavy pause. “I tried. He was drunk or high or both. All he did was whine. I’ve heard that tune before.”

  “I’m sorry.” She said it gently, because there was pain in his voice. He had tried, and his brother hadn’t been able to reciprocate.

  “I know you don’t have long for lunch, so let’s talk about tonight.” His tone changed on the last word.

  “Is that a polite way of saying you need to go?”

  “No, I’m benched, so I have all the time in the world. And you know I like to take it slow.”

  His husky drawl sent liquid heat to pool low in her belly, but she wasn’t going to let him have all the fun. “Not last night. You went for it hard and fast.” She let her voice drop low. “I like it both ways.”

  He groaned, and she allowed herself a satisfied smirk.

  “Sugar, you better watch out because I’m about to drive back there, lock us in your office, and do it both ways, so you can make up your mind which one you like better.”

  A vision of Luke storming through her office door with that focused look in his eyes made her squirm on her chair. “Let me know when you’re leaving so I can clear my desk off.” Now she conjured up the image of herself sitting on her desk with her skirt up around her waist and Luke between her thighs. Her panties grew damp.

  “When do you get off work?” His voice was a harsh rasp.

  “Six.”

  “Damn. Five more hours. How do you feel about meeting me at my place? Trevor is no longer an impediment.”

  She’d wanted that, but now the problems it raised struck her. Luke’s home happened to be her workplace. So which one took precedence?

  He spoke into the silence. “If it makes you uncomfortable, we’ll go back to the Ritz-Carlton.”

  But she wanted to see his home, to see him in his home. “No, it’s fine. I was just thinking about logistics.”

  “Come in the private entrance. The security cameras back there are monitored by Ron’s guys, not the building’s. Spindle won’t know.”

  It wasn’t just Orin. Everyone who worked at the Pinnacle gossiped about what went on in the building. It was like a small town, only vertical. Could she really keep her visit to Luke’s apartment a secret?

  Maybe not, but she only had one more night with him, and she was darned if she was going to ruin it with second guesses. “What’s the code?”

  He recited a string of letters and numbers. “Text me when you’re on your way.” His voice was husky when he added, “I’ll be waiting for you in the elevator. We can get started on the ride up.”

  Memories of being pressed between Luke’s body and her door—two hard surfaces that felt entirely different—exploded in her mind. “You don’t waste any time, cowboy.”

  “When the clock is running, you have to keep moving the ball.”

  Luke lowered his phone with a grin. Tonight was going to be a low-key evening at his home, because he’d planned a blowout of a date for tomorrow.

  Saturday, he was going to fly her to the mountains of West Virginia to dine at the Aerie, a restaurant so exclusive he’d had to call in two favors to get the reservations. He had booked a private room so no one could photograph them. And they would have plenty of time to make love as his jet sped them there and back before the game-night curfew.

  Since he couldn’t ask her to wait for him, he was going to make sure he left a big impression on her. It would make her future dates with other men pale by comparison so she’d still be free when he could come back into her life. At least, that was the plan.

  When the phone chimed again, he checked the caller ID and blew out an exasperated breath. How
did Gavin Miller know when Luke was in a good mood so the writer could destroy it? “What is it, Miller?”

  “And hello to you, too, Archer.”

  “I’m at work, so cut to the chase.”

  “What exactly does a benched quarterback work on?” Miller didn’t even try to make his question sound like anything other than a barb.

  “The same thing a blocked writer works on.”

  “Bastard. But I walked right into that.” Miller’s tone was flat rather than angry. “I called to see what you thought of Trainor’s Chloe. The real deal or a mere fling?”

  “I guess we’ll find out in a year.”

  “And what about you and your pretty concierge? Real or a fling?”

  So Miller had seen the photo. “Do you believe everything you read in the gossip rags?”

  “I’ll be drummed out of the fraternal order of writers for saying this, but a picture is worth a thousand words. You and the lady were holding hands.”

  “Camouflage. It keeps the autograph hounds away if it looks like you’re on a date. She was being paid to give me a cultural tour of New York. I aspire to be as suave as you.”

  Miller barked out a laugh. “I don’t believe a single thing you just said, my boyo. Except the part about my being suave.”

  Thank God he’d kept Miranda away from the gala and Miller’s insatiable prying. “Miranda works for the building where I live. That’s all.” The lie came easily, even though he was visualizing her in the elevator with her legs wrapped around his waist and her back against the wall as he surged into her. His cock began to harden.

  “Ah, yes, that pesky rule of yours about no women during the football season. I thought you might put it on hold while you’re benched.” Miller injected a question into his tone.

  “A week isn’t long enough to find the right woman.”

  “Not a believer in love at first sight, then? All that ice around your heart takes time to melt.”

  That goddamned nickname. Luke said something unflattering about Miller’s parentage.

  “Touchy, aren’t we?” Miller taunted. “Never mind. I’ll go back to trying to cajole Julian Best to come out and shoot a one-liner at his nemesis.”

  Sympathy pinged in Luke’s rib cage. “It’ll happen, Gavin. My bruises are healing. So will your muse.”

  “I’m a commercial hack. We don’t believe in muses. We just sit down at the computer and crank out books.”

  “And I’m just a dumb jock.” Luke recognized the edge of anger in Miller’s voice at the criticism that was leveled at him. Probably by those who envied his success. “Maybe you just need a vacation. Change up the scenery.”

  “Tried it. Tried working on a different book. Tried writing nonfiction. It was all garbage, but it doesn’t matter anyway. My agent says it has to be Julian Best.”

  “What about your love life? You found Ms. Right yet?”

  “I don’t have time. I need to stare at my blank computer screen for ten hours a day. However, your personal trainer is quite lovely.”

  “You’re wasting your time there.”

  “Ah, I had a feeling she might play for the other side. At the gala, she resisted my potent animal magnetism without any difficulty.”

  Doug stuck his head in the empty office where Luke sat with his feet propped up on the desk. When he saw Luke was on the phone, he signaled that he would wait outside.

  “Miller, I have to get back to warming the bench. I wish you luck, man.”

  “I don’t need luck. I need a goddamned miracle.”

  Luke hung up and swung his feet down from the desk. “Doug, you want something?”

  His assistant popped through the door. “Coach wants you in his office. Said he couldn’t get through on your cell phone.”

  “Any idea what’s so urgent?”

  Doug shook his head. “I’m just the messenger boy.”

  “So I won’t shoot you.” When Doug looked baffled, Luke felt old. He walked out the door with Doug trailing him. “Would you read my memoirs?”

  “Heck, yeah! Are you working on them?”

  “No. Why would you want to read them? You know me, in the here and now.”

  “No offense, Boss Ice, but you don’t give away much. I’d like to get a glimpse inside your brain.”

  “Huh. There’s nothing special in there.” Luke tapped his temple. “It’s just football.”

  “It’s football legend. You’re a superhero to a lot of people.” Doug grinned. “Including me.”

  “You’ve seen me in my jockstrap. There’s nothing heroic about that.”

  “In fact, I’ve been offered a lot of money to take a picture of you in your jockstrap,” Doug said.

  “You’re a good guy, Weiss. Maybe I’ll give you another raise in six months.”

  “I’ll put it on your calendar.” Doug peeled off as they approached Junius Farrell’s door.

  “Archer, is your cell phone busted?” Junius sat behind his giant desk. “Shut the door, will you?”

  Luke swung the door closed and sauntered to one of the oversize chairs in front of the desk to sit down. “No, I was using it.”

  “You haven’t got a wife, so who the hell were you talking to for so long?”

  “What did you want to see me about?” He crossed his ankle over his knee and waited. Junius was unhappy about something.

  “Pitch.” The coach looked around as though checking for eavesdroppers. “You sure the door’s closed?”

  “Want me to lock it?”

  “No.” Junius drummed his fingers on the desktop. “He’s not ready. I want you to work with him today and tomorrow.”

  Luke didn’t like the sound of this. “Work with him on what?”

  “His mental focus. I think he’s got the heebie-jeebies about his first game in the NFL. I need you to talk him through those.”

  For the first time in years, Luke fought an internal battle between his obligation to his job and his desire to please himself. Usually, his interests aligned without conflict, but he’d planned to leave early to get set up for Miranda’s visit to his place. And there was Saturday’s expedition. Babysitting the rookie quarterback could put a kink in all those plans. “I’ll go talk to him now.”

  “Don’t tell him I sent you. He’ll think I’ve lost confidence in him.”

  Luke rose from his chair. “If you want me to play on Sunday, I’m ready.”

  “Stan doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Luke swallowed the insults he was about to heap on his longtime trainer. “Stan is being conservative. There’s no pain when I move.”

  “Sit down, Luke.”

  Luke sat, but he didn’t relax. Junius’s expression was ominous.

  “Some people say you’re the greatest quarterback ever, and I’m not going to argue with them,” the coach said. “You’re the face of the New York Empire. When you play, the stadium sells out, no matter where in the country—or the world—it is.”

  It was Anoint Luke Archer Day and no one had told him. But he didn’t like his coach’s tone. “Good to know you feel that way.”

  “But you’re not getting any younger.”

  There it was. The bullet to the heart. Luke felt the tearing impact but gave Junius a nonchalant shrug. “None of us are.”

  “At best, you can play another—what?—four years. I have to look to the future of the team. I need to bring a new quarterback along.” The coach locked his gaze on Luke. “I will never have the opportunity to work with another athlete of your caliber in my lifetime. But Pitch could be good enough. With your help, he might even be excellent.”

  Junius was trying to play on his vanity. Except he didn’t have any when it came to coaching. He didn’t want Junius’s job. Luke would work with Pitch, but the rookie had to find the mental focus and drive to succeed inside himself. “I’ll do my best.” Luke stood again.

  “He’ll never be you, no matter what,” the coach said, throwing him a bone.

  “We’ll see how clo
se we can get him.” The coach nodded and picked up a sheaf of papers, so Luke strode to the door and jerked it open.

  As he walked down the corridor, fear sent cold tentacles snaking through his chest. One injury and his coach was writing him off. And Junius didn’t even know about the shoulder pain.

  This week he’d been forced to ease off on training, but next week he would go back at it full throttle. He had to make sure no one thought he was slowing down.

  The fear joined with a dark cloud of regret as Luke faced another truth. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d been hoping he could play football and keep Miranda in his life, but that was off the table now.

  Unlike Pitch, he knew how to focus.

  Chapter 21

  At 6:10, Miranda stood at the private entrance to Luke’s elevator foyer. She drew in a lungful of the crisp evening air and let it out slowly, allowing her mind and body to shift gears. The assistant concierge scheduled for the afternoon-into-evening shift had called in sick, so Miranda had been insanely busy all afternoon. She’d barely had time to change into the clothes she’d brought from home before she bolted from her office to avoid being asked to stay.

  She’d spent a lot of time choosing the rose-colored, open-worked lace top and matching camisole that allowed lots of peeks of her skin. Below those were slim jeans and a pair of black stiletto ankle boots. She’d pulled her hair out of its ponytail to hang in long waves over her shoulders.

  She inhaled again. Knowing this was her last evening with Luke made it seem important. She wanted him to like her clothes, to know she’d chosen them for him. No, what she really wanted was for him to break his rule about dating during the football season. It was a ridiculous dream, because he’d had some of the most beautiful women in the world in his bed, and he’d kicked them out when training camp began.

  She swallowed the stupid tears threatening to clog her throat and typed the code into the security keypad. The lock clicked and she swung the door open. She took two steps into the small marble-lined foyer and stopped.