by Roz Lee
With the day off from physical therapy he had time on his hands. He called his sister.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked.
“Not much.” He wasn’t about to tell her about the job until it was more than a possibility. “No PT today. Are you busy?”
“I’m writing, but I can take a break.”
Ashley was at her office. The Mustangs were flying home from Seattle today, so it was safe to visit the main house. “Good, I’ll be over in a minute.”
Why Siobhan was still hanging around, he didn’t know. She’d been a big help those first weeks when he couldn’t do much for himself, but he was doing for himself again, she didn’t need to stay.
She met him at the door to the kitchen, glasses of iced tea in her hands. You’d think she owned the place.
“Sis, why are you still here?”
“You mean, why am I still living in your friend’s house, drinking his iced tea, and accepting visitors as if I have the right?” She smiled then sipped her tea.
“Why are you? I’m fine now. I appreciate what you did for me, but you should go home. Back to your life.”
“I like it here. I’m getting tons of work done, and…I get to see you.”
Why did he get the feeling she was going to say something else? “You haven’t seen me in days,” he said, calling her bluff.
“Well, I know you’re just on the other side of the pool. I feel better knowing I’m close in case you need me.”
“I could use a dinner partner this evening.” He hadn’t been out to any place that didn’t serve food in a paper wrapper since his accident. For some reason he felt like celebrating tonight. “You game?”
She made a pouty face. “I can’t, Sean. I have…plans.”
His big brother senses went on high alert. “What kind of plans?”
“If you must know, I have a date.”
Her staying when she was no longer needed was beginning to make sense. “When did you have time to meet a guy?”
She took a long drink from her glass. Delay tactics. He was not going to like her answer. He knew it.
“Bentley introduced us…after a game.”
Oh no. She was not dating a baseball player. “To who?”
“Jake Tulleson.”
His blood ran cold then, as if he’d walked into a blast furnace, his anger turned red-hot. “What the fuck? He’s old enough to be your—”
She slammed her glass on the table. “Don’t say it, Sean,” she warned. “He’s just fifteen years older than me.”
Old enough to be her father. Hell, the Mustangs hitting coach probably had a string of bastards older than Siobhan. He ran through women faster than rain through a leaky roof.
“Like I was saying, he’s old enough to be your father. What the hell was Bentley thinking, introducing you to that reprobate?”
“He’s not a reprobate. He’s nice.”
“Nice, my ass. Go home, Siobhan. Find some nice guy to date but do me a favor and don’t tell me about him until he puts a ring on your finger.” She was an adult, but he still didn’t like the idea of her with a guy, especially one whose questionable morals had been discussed in the locker room. He was better off not knowing. Once a guy came up to snuff with a proposal, he’d deal with it. Until then…. “Stay the hell away from Tulleson.”
“You aren’t the boss of me, Sean Flannery. I choose who I date.”
He almost smiled at the childish reprimand, but it reminded him how young she was. “Those books of yours are fiction, Siobhan. They’re nothing like the real world. Tulley is not a happily ever after kind of guy.”
“What do you know about anything?”
Her face flushed—a sure sign he’d pushed her too far. It was too late to backpedal now. Besides, he wouldn’t take back a single thing he’d said. Every word was true. In true big brother fashion, he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut. “I know a hell of lot more than you do. I haven’t been living with my nose to a computer screen. I know ballplayers. It wasn’t long ago Tulleson was wearing a uniform. From what I hear, he wasn’t fit to wear it. Still isn’t.”
“Mind your own business, Sean.” She snatched her glass of the table then poured the remaining liquid down the sink. “When you figure out your own screwed up love life, maybe I’ll listen to what you have to say about mine, but until then, fuck off.”
She stormed out of the kitchen, the sound of her feet hitting the stair treads rang after her, followed by a door slamming upstairs.
Fuck. Siobhan wasn’t supposed to know words like that, much less use them. The silence in the kitchen eventually drove him out of Bentley’s house. His urge to celebrate was gone, replaced with a bit of remorse for making his sister mad, and a lot of worry. She’d been writing those sappy love stories so long she believed they were real.
Not in the real world, little bit. It was easy to write about happy endings, not so easy to have one. Just look at the divorce rate. Happily ever after was fiction. Jake Tulleson was a real life bastard.
He stormed back to the pool house as fast as his half-crippled legs would take him. He wished to hell he could contact another family member to talk sense into Siobhan, but he couldn’t think of a single one who would take his call. She was it. The only one who knew his secret and still loved him. The thought of a lowlife like Tulleson touching her made him sick. But she was right, his own love life was a fucked up mess, so he had no right giving her advice on the subject. He’d keep a close eye on the situation so when Jake tired of her, Sean would be there with a shoulder to cry on. It was the least he could do for the sister who was always there for him—no matter what.
Brooding over his sister’s situation, he’d forgotten all about his screen test earlier in the day until his cell phone rang. He hadn’t programmed Ashley’s number in, but he recognized it from dialing it earlier. It rang a few times before he got up the nerve to answer.
“Put your suit back on,” she said.
“Huh?”
“Sean.” She enunciated his name as if he was hard of hearing. “Put your suit back on then meet me at the house in an hour. Don’t be late.”
The phone beeped its end of call signal. He stared at the dark screen for a second. “Why the hell do I have to put my suit on?”
Chapter Twenty
She was taking a big chance. She knew it, but she was sick and tired of watching Bentley watch Sean. Having him so close, yet farther away than ever, was taking its toll on her fiancé. Up until today, she hadn’t had a clue what to do about the rift between the two men.
There were any number of ways her plan could go wrong—any of which could cause permanent damage to the various relationships involved. But as she drove home with Sean’s contract on the seat beside her, she refused to think bad thoughts. It was clear neither of the men were going to do anything to fix the situation between them, so resolving the matter was up to her.
Well, so be it.
The butterflies in her stomach turned to chattering mockingbirds the minute she saw Sean crossing the distance between the two houses.
“You’re an idiot, Ashley,” the birds said.
“Forget your plan before it’s too late.”
“Give him the contract then send him back to the pool house.”
But damn, he looked fine, except for the frown on his face. She ignored the warnings coming from her stomach and smiled at the man approaching.
“Sean,” she said, opening the French doors. “Thanks for coming.”
He entered, glancing around as if he expected a horde of crazed clowns to jump out at him, or maybe he was afraid of encountering someone else.
“He’s not here,” she said.
His shoulders relaxed some, but he still looked like he was ready to bolt. “My sister?”
“She called earlier, said she was going shopping, then meeting her date somewhere later.”
The cords in his neck tightened, and he balled his hands in to fists at his side.
“Is ther
e a problem?” she asked.
“Did she say who she was meeting?”
“No, but she’s been seeing Jake Tulleson, I believe. I assumed that’s who she meant.”
He nodded, but remained a block of brittle ice. He needed to be much more relaxed for what she had in mind. Time to change the subject.
“Well, I have good news,” she said, forcing cheer into her voice. “Congratulations, Sean. You’re the new anchor for Around the League.”
Surprise lit his eyes. “Really?”
“Yep. I brought your contract home with me.” She ushered him into the living room where she’d left the document. “Come in, have a seat so we can go over it.”
He looked a little lost—her fault for shifting gears on him so fast she supposed. She joined him on the sofa then slid the papers from their folder.
“It’s pretty straightforward,” she said. “Let me point out a few things in particular, then I’ll give you some time to look it over. If you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them.”
After she’d explained the clauses she wanted to make sure he understood, she handed him the document then stood. “I’ll get us something to drink while you look it over. What’s your poison, beer, wine, champagne?”
“Water or a soda, if you have it,” he said.
So much for smoothing out his rough edges. “I’ll see what’s in the fridge.”
As soon as she was out of sight, she pulled out her cell phone and texted Bentley.
How was your flight?
Fine. I’ll be home soon. Miss U.
Miss U 2.
Now she just had to keep Sean in the house until Bentley arrived. The flock of birds in her stomach took flight again, making her hands shake when she pulled two diet sodas from the fridge.
Play it cool, Ashley. All business so he doesn’t suspect anything.
On impulse, she opened the cabinet where she stashed the junk food.
Just one, she promised herself, biting into a chocolate cookie. She closed her eyes to savor the dark flavor enhanced by the creamy filling. Cookies were her weakness, chocolate ones being pure decadence in her opinion. She kept a stash on hand, but rationed them to times of complete stress or celebration. Resisting the urge to down the rest of the package, she returned it to the cabinet then picked up the sodas. She had a sneaking suspicion she would be finishing off the cookies later anyway. The night ahead would either be cause for celebration or a complete disaster. She couldn’t see any in between.
Sean was just where she’d left him, contract in hand. He didn’t acknowledge her as she rejoined him on the sofa, setting their soft drinks on the coffee table.
She had to give him credit, he apparently was reading the whole thing, word for word. He was so much more than just a ball player. In the short time she’d been around him, she’d seen a bit of the man inside. Sean Flannery was intelligent and insightful. The way he’d taken the script written for someone else and turned it into his own was nothing short of genius. He’d be an asset to any sports news department. They’d be lucky to get him if he signed the contract.
Sitting silently by, she ticked off the minutes in her head. Bentley would be home any time. She took a sip of her soda just as Sean finished reading then flipped the last stapled page over.
“Done?”
“Done. It looks good to me, but what do I know? Mind if I let my lawyer look it over?”
“No. I think having your lawyer read it is an excellent idea.”
“I know you want an answer soon, so I’ll ask him to make it a priority.”
“Thanks. I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you onboard.”
Cocking his head to one side, he smiled. “You’re sure I’m going to sign?”
“Positive.” She smiled back at him. “You’d be insane not to. The terms are excellent, the pay and benefits package are above the industry standard. What more could you want?”
“I admit, not much. I appreciate the opportunity, Ashley. Unless my lawyer finds a trap door, it appears I have a new job.”
“Excellent,” she said.
The door to the garage slammed. Her heart shot into overdrive. Bentley was home. Lord, getting through the next few minutes was going to be harder than she’d thought.
Sean stood, too fast by the look on his face. He glared at her. “I have to go.”
Grabbing his hand, she held on tight. “Please, don’t leave.”
He was going to murder her. “You set me up.”
She stood, latching onto his arm so the only way he was moving was if he dragged her along with him.
“Please,” she said, her eyes begging him to trust her. “No matter what happens the rest of the night, just remember it won’t affect your contract in any way.”
“Ashley? Honey? I’m home!”
Bentley’s voice sent Sean’s libido racing, triggering his fight or flight response. He tried to pry Ashley’s fingers loose from his coat sleeve.
“Don’t do this,” he implored, making no headway in removing her from his body. He had no idea what she thought was going to happen, but he wagered it wouldn’t be pretty.
Bentley rounded the corner then stopped in his tracks, eyeing the two of them standing there, his fiancée wrapped around another man. His gaze darted from one to the other, finally landing on Ashley. “What’s going on here?”
He’d heard that tone before. It seemed Ashley had, too. She tensed, gripping his arm tight enough he winced.
“Hey, ease up,” he hissed.
“Sorry.” Loosening her grip on his arm—but not by much—she glanced up at him before returning her gaze to her irate fiancé.
“We’re in the mood to celebrate,” she said. “Sean is going to be the new host of Around the League. I brought his contract home tonight. He was just taking a look at it.”
Bentley advanced into the room. His gaze darted to the document on the coffee table then back at them.
“Is that so? Congratulations, Sean.” He stared at him, those blue eyes showing genuine happiness at the news…and more.
Desire, simmering low ever since he’d heard the man’s voice, began to burn out of control. His dick went hard in the blink of an eye. He shifted his feet to ease the discomfort.
Shit. “Thanks,” he said, once again trying to extricate himself from Bent’s fiancée. “I should be going.”
“Stay.”
He froze at the command in Ashley’s voice.
“Babe. What’s going on?” Her fiancé moved closer, one cautious step at a time.
God, he looked good. It had been a long time since he’d been this close to the man he loved. It was hard to take his eyes off him. His suit was rumpled from traveling, his tie loose around his neck, the first two buttons of his dress shirt open revealing a patch of tanned skin. Sean would tear his new contract up for a chance to kiss that triangle of skin.
“Like I said, we should celebrate.” Her voice was low, seductive. She wiggled next to him, sort of like a pole dancer and he was the pole.
What the fuck?
“What did you have in mind?” Bentley was no more than an arm’s length away. Nothing but the coffee table stood between them.
“I know how much you like it when I wear a suit,” she said. “I thought perhaps you might like two suits.”
Bent’s eyes sparkled with mischief. His lips curled up on both ends, his focus entirely on his fiancée. “I like to strip you out of your suit,” he corrected her. Then he turned his gaze on him. It was all Sean could do to remain upright under Bent’s heated perusal. “I haven’t got a problem with removing his suit, either.”
Someone tugged on his arm. He looked down. Ashley. “What do you say, Sean? Will you stay with us tonight?”
Holy fuckin’shit. This is what he and Bent had talked about, lying naked together after making love, but he’d never once believed it would happen. He tore his gaze away from her to see what the other man might be thinking. His dick screamed, “Hell, yes!” while b
rakes screeched in his brain.
“Bent?” he asked.
“Up to you,” he said. “If you stay, I’m going to fuck both of you all night long.”
He looked back at the woman clinging to him.
“Stay, Sean,” she said. “Bentley needs you in his life.”
“What about you? Why are you doing this?”
“For him. But also because the more I think about ya’ll together, the more I want to be a part of it. Let’s let him have his fun, then I’ll race you to see which one of us can make him beg first.”
The man in question groaned. “It fuckin’ won’t take much. I’m dying here.”
This is crazy. “I….” He couldn’t think straight. The war between his dick and his brain was escalating, and if it was a matter of the one with most blood wins, his lower appendage was way out in front. “What if…?”
“One night at a time,” she coaxed. “We’ll never know if we don’t give it a try.”
“You want to be with us?” he asked her.
“I do. One night, Sean. We’ll worry about tomorrow when the sun comes up.”
Bentley had walked into an alternate universe. There was no other explanation for what he was experiencing. His cock felt like it might explode. His balls were on fire. Hell, even his fingertips tingled, and his mouth watered. Ashley looked like the object of every hot office fantasy he’d ever had. Her hair was up in one of those tight bitch do’s that screamed, “Take me if you think you can”—a challenge he never could resist. The severity of her office attire was relieved by a sexy, silk blouse peeking out from her lapels, hinting at a repressed feminine side longing to be set free. He’d kiss her into oblivion while his hands liberated her breasts. Then he’d turn her around, bend her over the back of the sofa, hike her form-hugging skirt to her waist. He’d fuck her until her hair and her morals shook loose.
But maybe it was too late for the morals part. It seemed those had already sprung free. They’d talked about a threesome with Sean, but as much as he longed for it to be a reality, he’d never expected it to come about. Leave it to his fiancée to surprise him—yet again. She had a way of doing that. His heart swelled with love for her as she tried to convince Sean to stay. For him.
