by Jamie Wesley
“Or just the guys who pass the ball or get a rebound,” Caitlin added. She wished she could say she was surprised by his insight, but she wasn’t. Before finding out he was her father, she’d been thrilled when the Stampede hired him last year. He was highly regarded by people in the league and the media as not only one of the best players to ever play basketball, but also one of the game’s most astute coaches.
“Exactly.” Mack clapped his hands. “Now tell me what to do before all those ballplayers rush in here with pitchforks.”
They worked in tandem for the next few minutes, Caitlin taking the lead and Mack willingly doing her bidding. Baking soothed her, allowed her to leave all her troubles behind. This time was no different. They fell into an easy rhythm, Mack’s enthusiasm matching hers.
“So what’s your favorite thing to make?” he asked.
“Probably red velvet cake. It’s my favorite.”
“Mine, too. Even though Abby won’t let me have it that often.”
“Why’s that?”
“Gotta watch my health. The doctors like to remind me I’m not a pro athlete anymore. So I have to monitor what I eat, Abby says.”
“You love Abby a lot.”
“I do.”
“Did you always want to marry her? Was there someone else before her?”
“I dated yeah, but Abby was special. Made me want to be a better man. Get myself together. Made me admit that I hadn’t always done the right things.”
“Did you go back and fix those mistakes?”
“The best I could. Sometimes that’s not possible.”
It took everything in her not to stab the poor pecans she planned to use for the frosting with the knife shaking in her hand.
When they were done, the mouthwatering aroma of baking cake filled the air, rendering the acrid odor of Mack’s previous attempt a distant memory.
Caitlin untied the apron and surveyed the kitchen. She’d done good. No, they’d done good. She and Mack. Her father. “The cake should be done by the time we’re done with the main course.”
“High five,” he said, raising his hand in the air. She automatically raised her hand and slapped hands with him, laughing. “Go Stampede.”
“Go Stampede,” she parroted, laughing the entire way.
Her laughter cut off when she caught a glimpse of his smile. What was wrong with her? Where was her fortitude? She only had to look at the man to see her brother.
Mack deposited some dirty bowls in the dishwasher. “I know Dale can be a little pushy, but he was right. You should be in the team cookbook. I know you and Brady haven’t been dating long, but I don’t doubt your contribution would be the star recipe in the bunch.”
Caitlin handed him a few more pans. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
The kitchen door opened, and Abby entered. “The natives are getting restless, especially because of the scents wafting out of here. Are we almost ready?”
Mack walked over to his wife. “Thanks to Caitlin, we are. We should see about adopting her or at least giving cooking lessons to the kids. Neither of them have a lick of interest in cooking,” he said to her.
Oh, God, she needed to get out of there before she lost it.
Chapter Eight
“Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom.” Caitlin rushed out of the kitchen, barely paying heed to Abby’s call to head for the second door on the right.
She entered the room and collapsed against the door, her pulse pounding in her ears. How could one man be both caring and callous? Was any of this worth it? The highs and lows? How could she go back out there?
Caitlin sucked in a deep breath and faced herself in the mirror. Calm down. Just because Mack had made some careless, throwaway remarks didn’t mean she had to lose her cool. Her gumption. Her control.
So she wouldn’t. With a decisive nod, she exited the bathroom. And almost bumped into Brady. She jumped back and slammed a hand over her chest.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Yeah, other than the fact you almost scared the living daylights out of me,” she said.
“Mack said you looked sick.”
“I’m fine. Just needed to take a trip to the restroom. Nothing serious.” She stepped around him, careful not to look him in the eye. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”
They entered the dining room, where everyone else was already seated.
“Everything okay?” Mack asked from the head of the table.
“Couldn’t be better,” Caitlin replied, her tone as bright as she could make it. It wasn’t until she was seated that she noticed she and Brady were seated directly across from Lance and Patrice. Fan-freaking-tastic.
For his part, Brady didn’t look unnerved by the occurrence. For good reason, it seemed. Maguire and Patrice were on their best behavior, acting like normal, decent human beings. Maybe because Mack was only a few seats away. It didn’t matter. Civility made for a much more enjoyable dinner.
“So, guys, let’s talk about something that has nothing to do with basketball,” Mack said.
“Yeah, let’s talk about how we have a radio star in our midst,” Tilly called out.
Brady shot him a narrowed-eyed glance, but Tilly just grinned and shoveled more food in his mouth.
“Yeah, you were a regular Dear Abby,” Whitmore said. “Wait. Does that column still exist?”
“Doesn’t matter with Hudson ready and willing to take her place,” Victor said. “Tell us again how we should plan a wedding.”
“You boys leave him alone. I thought he did a great job,” Abby said.
“So did I,” Michelle, Victor’s wife, said.
“How did you get roped into appearing on the show?” Mack asked.
Brady laughed. “I wasn’t roped into doing it. Caitlin was in a bind when the booked guest host backed out, so I agreed to step in. I’m never without an opinion on anything, and I enjoyed it.”
His teammates looked at him with equal doses of horror, shock, and wonder. “You mean she didn’t have to threaten you with bodily harm to get you to agree to it?” Victor asked.
Brady chuckled. “No. Why would you think that?”
Caitlin could see it on their faces. Because we thought you were a selfish bastard who only cared about basketball and to hell with anyone who wasn’t helping you to win games.
“Are you sure you see something worthwhile in him, Caitlin?” Victor asked. “You weren’t just making that stuff up to make him look good, were you? You can tell us if you were, you know. We’re all friends here.”
She eyed Brady. “Well…I hate to lie.”
They broke into laughter.
“Did anyone see Ant-Man?” asked Patrick Griffith, another teammate. “I think it was by the same people who made Batman.”
Brady turned to him, horror stamped on his face. “Did you really say that? Ant-Man is part of the Marvel world. Batman is DC Comics.”
“You know comics?” Maguire asked, his first contribution to the conversation.
“Yeah, I’ve been reading them since I was a kid. My collection of first editions is my most prized possession.”
“So is mine,” Maguire said, looking oddly confused that they had something in common.
The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. The dessert was a huge hit. After it was consumed in its entirety, the dinner party broke up shortly thereafter.
“You are full of hidden talents,” Brady said outside her apartment door. “That was the best German chocolate cake I’ve ever had.”
His appreciation meant the world to her. “Thank you.”
“Why did you offer to help? I mean, I’m glad you did, but no one expected you to.”
“Because I like to bake. And he looked so sad to be disappointing everyone.”
“Well, I am forever in your debt. My teammates, too, I’m sure.” He studied her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said as convincingly as she could manage.
“You sure?
You said maybe two words on the way home. Are you sure nothing happened in the kitchen? Mack didn’t say or do anything rude, did he? Or Abby?”
“No,” she said. Tonight when Mack said he’d righted his wrongs, that’s all she needed to hear. It was a lie. He hadn’t even tried. “No,” she repeated when his unconvinced look remained. She reached out to squeeze his hand. A mistake. An electric current traveled up her arm. When would she learn that touching him led to nothing good? Okay, bad choice of words. Touching him definitely led to good things, but nothing safe.
Still, she didn’t let go. Not even when he twisted his hand to cradle hers. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. I wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun if you hadn’t been there. I was able to relax. Impress my coach with my choice of girlfriend.”
When had he gathered her other hand? When had he moved closer? So close that their chests were inches apart. So close she had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes that had gone dark with promise. Her eyes lowered, only to snag on his lips. Lips that she’d tasted. Lips she tasted every night in her dreams.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered. The only safe thing to say.
“Caitlin.” He tipped her chin up.
She raised her eyes to his. The promise in his gaze teased her. Beckoned her. Dared her to take a walk on the wild side. Somehow the small space that had remained between their bodies no longer existed. She was on her toes and his head was descending. She knew before his mouth touched hers that this kiss was just for them. Real in the only way a true kiss in private could be. Not to make someone jealous, throw them off the scent, or appease them.
And it was.
The kiss was wild but not out of control. He applied just the right amount of pressure with his lips and tongue to gain the response he wanted from her. Like he wouldn’t accept anything other than her total surrender to the desire binding them together. He hauled her close, making her silently curse the layers of clothes that separated them. God, how she wanted him. Now. Tonight.
He drew away slowly. If she thought about it long enough, she’d be embarrassed that it was she who clung to him, but her mind and senses were too rattled.
“What was that about?” she asked, unwilling to say good-bye to him. Needing to hear him say he was as affected by the kiss as she was.
“I wanted to know what it was like to kiss you just for us, no one else,” he said, confirming her earlier thoughts.
“You were testing a theory?”
“A theory I’ve wondered about way too much.”
“And?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Ten times better than I remembered. And you? What did you think?”
“It was…” Fantastic. Remarkable. “Good.”
“Good? I can do better than that.” He cupped her nape, sliding his hand into her hair and tugging her head back. She did nothing to stop him. The look in his eye told her he had one goal—to seduce.
He went to work, not in any hurry, teasing her. A slow slide of his lips against her. A small tug on her bottom lip, encouraging her to open up and let him in. She did. His tongue swept inside, causing hers to chase his. Their tongues tangled in a slow, perfectly choreographed dance. Degree by degree he took the kiss deeper, drawing her into his web of lust and desire.
Even more so when his hands joined in the action, finding their way inside her dress after finding the zipper on the side. He pushed aside her bra and cupped her breast. He murmured in approval when her nipple tightened against his palm. Squeezed harder. She gasped at the arrow of heat that landed between her legs. Her chest heaved when he drew away.
“How was that?” His voice, so deep, so enthralling, came out husky, like he too felt their insane chemistry which only got more potent each time they touched.
He’d set out to seduce. Had he succeeded? Hell, yeah. “That was…” Her eyes fluttered open. “Extraordinary.”
The heat in his eyes singed her. “Invite me inside.”
“That would be…” Her voice trailed off.
His lips moved across her throat. Up. Down. Sampling her like she was the rarest of delicacies. He moved to her ear and nipped the shell’s sensitive flesh. He whispered against her ear. “Hot.” He pressed a kiss to the base of her throat where her pulse pounded. “Fantastic.”
Her moan ended on a half chuckle. “I was going to say unwise.”
“I can make the most unwise decision the best decision of your life.”
Of that, she had no doubt. Her body hungered for him. Urged her to give in to what they both wanted. His erection bumped against her. She wanted to touch him. Make him feel as good as he was making her feel. She cupped him through his pants. His groan was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard.
“Caitlin.” His mouth found hers again. This kiss was out of control. The lust had consumed them both.
Buzz! Buzz! Her cell phone broke through her reverie. She knew that ringtone. Her mom. Caitlin jumped back, smacking her head on the door. She winced. “Ouch.”
“Are you okay?” Brady asked.
She rubbed the back of her head. “Thanks for asking, but for the tenth time tonight, yes. This time I’m just embarrassed.”
He stared at her, the night’s shadows hiding his features. But she got the sense he saw all of her he could. All that she wanted to show him and more.
His eyes were hot, his lips parted, his hands clenched at his sides like he wanted to drag her close for another kiss. “I should go.”
“Yes.” Before she begged him to kiss her and do so much more. “We’re just pretending, remember?” She had to, at least.
Because dating him wasn’t meant to be. Even if he wasn’t who everyone claimed him to be. Because what if deep down he was? She’d been down that road before and it had cost her dearly. And even if she could leave her past in the past, what about her father? She could never forget or forgive what he’d done. Getting him back for what he’d done was more important than a relationship that would surely end.
His lips rolled inward. He lowered his eyes to the ground, then raised them back to hers. One second passed, then another. Then another. “Yes, I remember. But I’m having a hard time remembering why.”
He turned and walked away.
It took everything in her not to call him back. Her feelings for him were starting to feel all too real. Necessary. But they weren’t. They couldn’t be. Because, she, unfortunately, did remember why they were pretending.
“So any words of wisdom before I go?” Brady asked. They stood outside his car at the radio station. This was the last time she’d see him before the Stampede embarked on a three-game road trip. After taking a few Love Letters to Brady, they’d recounted their team dinner experience on the show. Neither had mentioned the scene outside her apartment because what was the point? They were friends, helping each other out. Nothing more. And she was going to continue being his friend by answering his question honestly. As a friend.
Caitlin looked up into his handsome face. “Yeah, work on the pick and roll. Sometimes, you’re a tad late with the pass.”
That grin that always tugged on her heart—and other body parts if she were perfectly honest—made an appearance. “Yes, Coach. Anything else?”
“Don’t kill Maguire.”
The grin disappeared. “We’re having a mandatory Thanksgiving team dinner. What if he starts something? Isn’t it my obligation to finish it?”
She smacked him on the chest. “No!”
The grin returned. “Kidding.”
Her heart missed a beat. She ignored it. “Good. Now why don’t you tell me what’s up?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“During the show and now, your ever-present cockiness was at about a five, instead of the usual 8.5.”
His back went stiff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She bit back a smile. “Let me revise my earlier estimate. Now, it’s about a 9.3. What’s up? Really?”
He glanced around
like he was afraid someone was eavesdropping. She kept her gaze on him. Steady. Straightforward. He sighed. “The second game on the trip is in New York.”
“You’re nervous about facing your old team.”
“I don’t get nervous.” Caitlin looked at him askance. “Usually,” he continued. “But I am now.”
“That’s a perfectly legitimate feeling. There’s no need to be embarrassed about it.”
He shrugged. “I guess. I don’t know what to expect. I gave my all to that franchise, but because of the way things ended, I don’t know if the fans will cheer or boo. It’s New York. It could go either way.”
He stared off in the distance, his eyes cloudy with doubt. His vulnerability, the one that she’d glimpsed only sparingly, tugged at her heartstrings. This was the real Brady, who so often hid behind the I-don’t-give-a-shit facade. She squeezed his hand. “You’ll handle it fine either way. You’re a pro. You know what you did and why you did it, so take solace in that and ball out on the court. Give them a real reason to boo you.”
A smile, a genuine one, spread across his face. “Thank you for believing in me. Not everyone did or does. It means a lot to me.”
He drew her into a hug. She went willingly. Road trips were a necessary evil of pro sports, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t miss their conversations. Miss him. Because that’s what friends did when they didn’t see each other for a while.
He didn’t pull away. Neither did she. Would a friend notice the hard muscles of her friend? Would she notice that he smelled incredible? How hard his chest felt? That she fit into his arms like their bodies were made for each other? That she hadn’t felt this right, this good in too long to contemplate? That she didn’t want the hug to end? Because it was true. All of it.
But this couldn’t last, shouldn’t last. So she stepped away. Forced herself to look him in the eye and smile. He didn’t speak. Only studied her like he was looking for something. What, she didn’t know. “I’ll see you in a few days,” he said finally.
She forced her lips upward. “A few days? You’re only going to be gone that long? I thought I wouldn’t have to see your face for at least two weeks.” She had to lighten the mood. Had to.
