Rules of the Game

by Sandy James

  I smiled. “He did.”

  “Oh, God,” she said, eyes rolling heavenward. “I keep trying to get him to outgrow this midlife crisis, but noooo. He needs to tool around New York on his stupid Harley.”

  Scott scowled at Tiffany. “Lay off, Tiff. Maddie loves the bike.”

  “Nobody loves the bike.” Tiffany replied.

  “Quit bitching about my bike.” His hand enfolded mine. “Maddie doesn’t seem to mind.”

  The waitress dropped the little black folder with the bill on the table. I reached for it, but Scott was quicker.

  “Hey!” I protested. “Give that back! My treat tonight.” I’d expected to pay. The only reason we were even there was because I’d propositioned him to take me to my reunion. After the way the six of us had racked up the drinks, the bill would be an eye-popper.

  “Nope. This one’s on me. But it’s sure nice to know you’re not hanging around me for my money.” He pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his black jeans. The nylon wallet was sitting on death’s door. The stitching was coming loose, and the corners had become so frayed, the thing struggled to remain in one piece.

  No way would I let a guy that desperate pick up the tab. I reached for the bill again. “C’mon. Let me have this one.” I glanced at his sister, hoping for an ally. “He never lets me pay. For once, I’d like to pull my weight. Plus, I finally got to meet Scott’s sister. The least I can do is cover the tab.”

  Tiffany snorted. “Let her pay if she wants to, Scotty.”

  “Scotty?” I echoed, giggling. I reached for the bill, but he deftly avoided my attempt.

  Scott’s eyes shot bullets at his sister. “I haven’t been Scotty since I was ten.”

  Even Tiffany’s laugh was pretty. “You’ll always be ten to me.” She snatched the little black binder from his hand. “How about I pay? Solves the argument.”

  “We weren’t arguing,” I insisted, hoping she didn’t think there was trouble in our carefully constructed paradise.

  When Scott leaned in and kissed me, I almost jerked in surprise. A short, very sweet kiss. Over too soon, but entirely proper considering the company. “We only fight so we can make up. We both love…making up.” Those raven eyebrows wiggled at me.

  My whole face heated to what I was sure was a vivid red.

  Tiffany rolled her eyes. The rest of our little group just laughed.

  As we waited for cabs at the front of the restaurant, Scott helped me put his leather jacket back on. I seriously plotted how I could maintain custody of it after the reunion until I realized that after we got back from Indiana, I might not ever see him again. I’d hand him a nice-sized check, and he’d be history. That notion felt like a blow to the gut.

  He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” I blurted out before lowering my voice. “I’m just chilly.”

  He pulled the front of the jacket together and dragged the zipper up. As his hands brushed over my chest, my face flushed even warmer and my heart did a little giddy-up.

  Tiffany and Caleb caught the first cab. As Andrea and Mitchell crawled in the next, Scott reached for my hand as I tried to hail another taxi. “I’m not ready to call it a night yet. How about we walk over to Times Square?”

  “Times Square?”

  “Yeah, just to look at the sights.”

  “Um…okay.” I wasn’t exactly sure what he hoped to accomplish. We’d successfully fooled his family and friends and bought him a couple of weeks of peace. He would eventually have to tell them that we “broke up,” and they’d probably return to their matchmaking ways. At least for now, he could enjoy a reprieve.

  Maybe he wanted to see Times Square because he didn’t get into Manhattan very often. He was probably more of a Queens kind of guy. His grammar was impeccable, so I still hadn’t figured out his origins. I guessed he had a little bit of college under his belt. Despite all our time creating backstory, we really hadn’t shared much about our real lives. Somehow, we both seemed content to leave things alone.

  The night had turned cool. I found comfort being cocooned in his jacket. The warmth. The fragrance. It was like wearing a boyfriend’s letter jacket back in high school.

  I hardly noticed where we were except to drop a couple of bucks in the cups of every street musician we strolled past. Since I’d been a struggling “artist” when I’d first moved to the city, I’d made a habit of helping other creative people. The normal bustle of Times Square I adored faded in my mind. All I could think about was Scott. The way his fingers twined around mine. How the light breeze tended to ruffle his dark hair. The smell of his cologne.

  He’d been so funny, so attentive through dinner. His teasing seemed easy and genuine. By the time dessert rolled around, we’d started finishing each other’s sentences.

  I skidded to stop when the revelation hit me.

  I like him.

  Damn, but that wasn’t a good sign. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. I was supposed to hire some badass guy to take me to the reunion. He was supposed to impress my childhood friends by strutting around and acting like the alpha male who wanted Maddie. We were supposed to fool everyone. Then I’d write him a check, we’d shake hands and our paths would never cross again.

  What existed between us had somehow changed and become much more complicated when I wasn’t paying attention.

  “What’s wrong?” Scott turned to face me. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  How in the hell was I supposed to answer that? What’s wrong? I fell for you. What do you think about that?

  “Maddie?”

  “I’m…fine. I should probably get going. I’ve got a deadline.” A lie. Although I was juggling four different manuscripts, and my literary agent would probably sell them all, so I’d eventually have to finish them. I just needed a good excuse to put some distance between Scott and me before I did something embarrassing and entirely wanton—like throw myself into his strong arms.

  “Want me to hail a cab?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not that far. I can hoof it from here.”

  “Then I’ll walk you home.” He turned to stare down the block, seemingly taking in all the bright billboards and twinkling lights. “I love this place at night.”

  I knew exactly what he meant. The city got into a person’s blood.

  “When you see it in daylight all the time, you forget.”

  “Forget what?”

  “How beautiful this city is when it’s all lit up like a Christmas tree.” Scott gave my hand a tug. “Let me walk you home.”

  Chapter Four

  Outside my door, I turned to Scott. The whole walk back from Times Square, we’d been quiet, simply content to hold hands and take in the scenery. Past several theaters, over a couple of blocks, past the pizza parlor and my favorite bodega, down forty-sixth Street.

  How long had it been since I was able to enjoy the simple feel of a big, warm hand encasing mine? Made me feel cherished. I buzzed us into the building, thinking I’d say farewell in the lobby. Scott insisted on following me upstairs.

  “Thanks for getting me home safely.” The keys jingled despite my tight grip. Why were my stupid hands shaking?

  “Can I come in for a minute, Maddie?”

  I wanted to let him come in, but I knew exactly what would happen if I did. We’d end up in bed. Probably have a nice romp in the sack, and then he’d leave and never call again. That scared the hell out of me, and not because his disappearing would ruin the reunion. Because I genuinely cared for the guy. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

  His hand covered mine, stopping the trembling. He gently took the keychain. “Which key?”

  “The big gold one.”

  Scott unlocked the door and pushed it open enough to stick his head in. “Is that monster of yours loose?”

  “Probably.”

  His grin was too charming to resist. “Can I come in anyway?”

  “Why?”

  He pressed the
keys back into my hand and closed my fingers around them. “Because I have something I’d like to say to you.”

  I slid the keychain in my purse. “You can’t say it out here?”

  “With all your neighbors watching through their peepholes and listening to every word?” He shook his head.

  I considered it so long that Scott frowned at me. “Fine.” I pushed the door farther open and hurried inside.

  Cleo had to have been sleeping on the bed again because I heard all hundred and twenty-five pounds of her hit the floor before she ran into the living room.

  I grabbed her collar before she could jump on Scott. “Hang on. I’ll put her back in the bedroom.” At least that would discourage us from ending up in there. As I passed the enormous box of dog treats, I snagged a couple to help lure Cleo away. Tossing them on the bed, I waited until she galloped in after them to close the door behind me, not even worrying about my sheets being covered in St. Bernard slobber.

  Scott stood waiting for me, leaning back against the closed door. That shirt fit him perfectly, showing every ripple in those muscles. Who said dressing in expensive Italian suits made a man look good? From where I was standing, a simple twenty-dollar Henley was every bit as effective. It was the man in the clothes, not the clothes themselves.

  He didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, but he also didn’t seem to be making himself at home as though he expected this to be an intimate encounter. No kicking off his shoes. No peeling his jacket off my shoulders. No rushing to crowd my space.

  I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or pissed at his body language. “What did you want to say to me?”

  “You followed through with your part of the bargain. It’s my turn. When’s the reunion?”

  “I didn’t give you the dates?” What the hell was wrong with me? I was Miss Anal-Retentive about my calendar. How could something as simple as making the arrangements for the reunion slip my mind?

  Duh. Because I still wasn’t sure I wanted to go. By ignoring it, I was actually making a passive-aggressive decision. Now that I had Scott to go with me, I probably needed to start forming some serious plans. “It’s three weeks from tomorrow. I need to get train tickets.”

  “Trains actually go to Indiana?”

  That made me smile. “Do you mind the train? I really hate airplanes.” The sad memory washed over me, bowing my lips into a frown. “I had a friend die in a plane crash back in high school, and I’ve been petrified of flying since then.”

  Pushing away from the wall, Scott dropped his rigid stance. He helped me out of his jacket and draped it over the back of the recliner. “I’m sorry. That had to be rough.”

  I nodded, trying to brush aside the maudlin reminiscence. “There’s a train from Penn Station that goes overnight to Chicago, then we can drive from there to Pottsville. I’ve done it a million times to go visit my parents.”

  “If it makes you happy, Maddie, we’ll take the train. But can I offer another suggestion?”

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s take my car instead. I’ve got a ’67 Mustang I’ve been restoring. It’s in good enough shape to get us there and back. Of course, you won’t have the motorcycle to impress everyone…but we wouldn’t if we went by train, either.”

  At least discussing cars kept me from obsessing over my newfound feelings. “Mustang, huh? What color?”

  “Acapulco Blue. It’s not much to look at. Yet. But the engine is new.”

  “It won’t break down somewhere along the way?”

  I loved his chuckle.

  “I’ll be sure and check all the fluids before we head out. Trust me. It won’t break down. The back bumper might fall off, but…” He grinned. “I can wrap an extra bungee cord around it just to be sure it stays on.”

  “Fine. We’ll drive. If the bumper falls off, we’ll throw it in the trunk. You can put it back on when you get home.”

  “I love a woman who goes with the flow.”

  Time seemed to slow down as we stopped talking and watched each other. I could sit in silence for hours, writing or simply thinking about plots and characters with nothing but bird chatter to fill the void. In my mind, I was never truly alone, but I never dealt well with silence around other people. It usually forced me to say something stupid just to end the awkwardness. “Did you decide on a price?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How much you want to do this for me.” Shit. I was making him sound like a male prostitute.

  “I don’t want your money, Maddie.”

  That didn’t make any sense, especially coming from a guy whose car was a piece-of-shit ’67 Mustang. “But I promised to pay you for your time. And the gas to get there now. Why don’t you want my money?”

  “Because after the way things went tonight with my friends, I’m changing the rules of this game.” The man moved faster than a cheetah. Before I could take another breath, I was in his embrace. A heartbeat later, his lips were on mine.

  His mouth was so sweet, so exciting. His tongue moved between my lips and across my tongue, sending shockwaves racing down my body. I wanted to think, to try to figure out exactly what he meant about changing the rules, but I couldn’t seem to catch a thought and hold on to it. Scott’s kisses turned my brains into scrambled eggs.

  When he pulled back and stared down into my eyes, I found some of my lost wits. “This is supposed to be a business arrangement.”

  “I told you, I’m changing the rules.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I can.” His hand slipped up from my waist to cup my breast. His thumb rubbed across it until the nipple hardened through my barely there bra. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about this.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my neck, nibbling his way up to my ear. Heat pooled between my thighs, making me weak in the knees. “You’re all I thought about when I was all alone in my bed. I pictured every inch of you, angel. Kissed every inch of you in my mind. You’ve thought about me too, haven’t you?”

  Like I could tell him no and lie like that with a straight face. Since we’d met, I’d written at least a dozen hot love scenes, some for books I hadn’t even started to plot out yet. The scenes were so scorching, I’d find some way to write a book around them. “But—”

  “Maddie,” he said as he continued to stroke my breast. “I’ll stop. All you’ve got to do is tell me you don’t want me.”

  “But I do!” Had I really confessed that without so much as a single self-protective thought? Where was the normal chain-mail armor that surrounded my heart?

  I must have left it back at Times Square.

  Scott let go of me and stepped back so quickly, I almost fell on my face. “Then we need to talk.”

  “Talk?” Was he serious? I was revved up, ready to go, and he was pulling back? When had our male and female roles reversed? He should be pulling a condom out of his pocket, shouldn’t he?

  Scott took my hand and led me to the couch where he pulled me down to sit next to him. What I wanted to do was sit on his lap. He sighed before he finally spoke. “This isn’t what I thought it was going to be.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Sitting back, he used his fingertips to rub small circles on his temples. Was he trying to think, or was I making him crazy enough to give him a headache? My sister always assured me I was capable of producing a throbbing migraine in any perfectly healthy person.

  Scott’s hands fell away from his face. “I don’t want this to be a business relationship anymore. I want us to date.”

  “Date?” Was he serious? Date, as in be a real couple?

  Those blue eyes turned to look at me. “Are you going to repeat everything I say?”

  “Probably. It drives my sister crazy too.”

  “Then come here.” His index finger crooked.

  “Why?”

  “So I can shut you up.”

  I squealed when he pushed one hand under my knees and the other behind my back. He sat me in his lap and leaned in to kiss me ag
ain, effectively getting exactly what he wanted. Of course, so did I—because I sure as hell loved kissing him.

  Thorough. The man was damned thorough. By the time Scott pulled back, we were both breathing as if we’d run the hundred-yard dash in world record time.

  His fingers caressed my cheek. “Look, I know what you wanted.”

  I arched an eyebrow.

  “You wanted a guy to go to that reunion and blow their socks off. I’ll still do that. I promise I will.”

  “You will?”

  He kissed me again, hard and quick. His signal that I needed to stop parroting back his words. “But I want something else now, and it’s sure not your money.”

  I almost asked what until I caught myself.

  “Instead of pretending, why can’t I be your guy?”

  “Be what?” I said it on purpose just to get him to kiss me again. He chuckled and obliged me.

  “So?” Scott asked as he ended the kiss.

  “So?”

  His laugh warmed me from the inside out like good cognac on a winter’s afternoon. “You just want another kiss.”

  I nodded.

  “If you’ll play by my rules now, I’ll kiss you again.”

  The analytical part of me started in immediately, trying to talk me out of anything that might put my heart in danger. This guy’s from a different world. You might not fit into it. He’s just trying to get in your pants.

  My heart shouted above the din. You like him. You want him. He’s cute and funny and a gentleman. And you want him in your pants.

  I needed more information to tip the balance of the scales. “If you want me to play by your rules, you need to tell them to me first. What exactly do you want from this, Scott Brady? Are you like every other guy, just looking to get laid? ’Cause you don’t have to make us too serious to reach that goal.”

  “That was blunt.”

  I shrugged, knowing I’d probably offended him, but I needed all the cards on the table. If he was a prick—like all the other men who’d wandered in and out of my life—I wanted to know now. But if he was a hero…

  “I like that you’re so damned honest. Most women aren’t. Let me return the favor. For once, I want this—” he kissed my forehead, “—as much as I want this.” The hand he’d rested under my knees slid up between my thighs, drawing a gasp when he reached the juncture. A quick and effective caress and the hand moved to lie on my lap.