Fourth and Goal

by Jami Davenport

  Derek stood against one of the lockers, keyed up and bouncing on the balls of his feet. He could go another four quarters.

  "Ramsey!"

  Derek jumped. “Yes, sir.” He winced and waited for a butt chewing because he'd been fidgeting.

  HughJack tossed him the football. Derek almost dropped it, bringing snickers and catcalls from the guys.

  "The game ball is yours. Keep playing like that, and you'll have a collection of them by the end of the season."

  The team cheered, and Derek nodded, trying to keep it cool and not show too much emotion.

  The game ball. His first as a pro.

  Cass stuffed a carrot in her mouth and munched. Leaning over the table, she spoke so only Rachel could hear. “So how'd it go last night? Was it as good for you as it appeared to be for Derek? He was on fire on the field today."

  Rachel shot a quick glance toward the front of McGuire's Bar, where the local radio station did their postgame show after every home game. On the small raised stage, a sportscaster interviewed Derek and Tyler.

  "It was fine."

  Cass rolled her eyes. “Fine? That's all you can say. Did it rock your world? Or even more, did you rock his?"

  "I don't do sex and tell."

  "Oh, that'd be a great name for a new reality show.” Cass laughed. “I know this sounds dumb, but you're absolutely radiant."

  "Shhhh. I hope my brother didn't notice anything. He kept staring at me strangely through the entire game."

  "Your brother needs to get a life. Going to every game with his sister. Just too weird. We need to find him a woman so he'll quit trying to control you."

  "I doubt that would stop him. It hasn't stopped Dad or Riley."

  "So what's the deal with you and Derek? Other than the sex."

  "There is no deal, just sex and friendship.” Cass couldn't know. After all, implicating Derek implicated Tyler. Rachel hated deceiving her friend, but she didn't have an option.

  "That's it? Why?"

  "Our goals are compatible."

  "Huh?"

  "Don't play the dumb blonde act on me. You know what I'm talking about. Both of us want something so badly that no one will stand in our way. We won't give up our dreams. He wants to play pro football. I want to be a scout. Who knows where I'll end up? The chances of getting a job in Seattle are slim.” Chances of him not hating her after this was all over were even slimmer.

  "But you're willing to sleep with him?"

  "This from a woman who jumps in bed with the next available man every time you break up with Tyler?"

  "We're not discussing me. We're discussing you."

  "Cass, the man doesn't want a relationship any more than I do. He's made it clear."

  "Well, that was then. This is now."

  "You don't know the whole story.” And she never would know the entire story. No one would.

  "What story?"

  "About his mother. She did a real number on him. I can't imagine him ever trusting another woman."

  Cass blew her off. “That's bull. He's not like that."

  Rachel shrugged. No arguing with Cass. She'd think as she pleased. After all, this was the woman who'd stuck with Tyler since her freshman year of college, which proved she wasn't the best judge of character. Of course, they did break up every other week. Actually they'd been together a couple of months now without a major fight. They were due.

  Maybe next time Tyler dumped Cass or she dumped Tyler, she'd set Cass up with her brother.

  Derek and Tyler, interview finished, joined them at their booth. Derek grinned at Rachel. “Hey, I'm glad you were able to join us."

  "I wouldn't miss this victory party for the world."

  He squeezed her hand under the table. “Thanks."

  He looked so darn good. His short, spiky dark hair was still wet from the shower. He smelled like soap, clean and wholesome. His brown eyes sparkled with the excitement of a game well played. Even her brother grudgingly admitted that he'd played “one hell of a game."

  The place was packed. The Sunday night game blared on every TV in the sports bar. Voices rose to be heard above the din, while scantily clad waitresses hustled to the full tables with trays of beer and appetizers.

  Derek ordered another round, even though Rachel hadn't finished her wine yet. He reached over her to snag some fries and a chicken wing. His muscled arm rubbed across her nipples, which tightened in response. Derek turned his head, his mouth mere inches from hers, and met her gaze. Heat radiated from his eyes and singed her with their intensity.

  Burying his long fingers in the hair at the back of her neck, he pulled her toward him. “How about a victory kiss?"

  She nodded, even as his mouth came down on hers. It was no chaste little kiss. He thoroughly kissed her with the same enthusiasm he played the game he loved. His tongue teased hers, and she gave herself up to the moment until a flash blinded her. Pulling back, she glanced around, dazed and stunned.

  Derek turned toward the photographer, annoyance etched on his face. “Hey, man, give us a little privacy here."

  The man just snorted. “Why don't you get a room instead of putting on a public performance? Then you can have privacy."

  Derek glared at him, and the guy backed off.

  Tyler watched him go. “Want me to kill him for you?"

  "Nah, Coach wouldn't be happy if his star quarterback got thrown in jail for murder."

  "No one will know I did it. I'm that good.” Tyler smirked.

  "You're that full of shit."

  "Your lack of faith in my talents wounds me to the core.” Tyler held his hand over his heart. Derek groaned.

  "Acting is not your forte."

  "Nope, but I am photogenic, gorgeous, and charming. As soon as we have a few more wins under our belt, I'm getting some big promo contracts. This face will be on every billboard from here to California."

  "Whatever.” Derek rolled his eyes.

  Rachel loved the bantering between these two. Tyler might be an ass on the outside, but his fierce loyalty to his cousin might prove troublesome down the road.

  Her fledgling sexual exploration didn't include public displays of affection that might get back to her family, especially with Derek Ramsey.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Fourteen

  Keep Your Head in the Game

  By the time they managed to escape McGuire's, the rain was heavy enough to drown every living thing and do a number on Rachel's hair. Derek's earlier euphoria seemed to give way to exhaustion. He stifled several yawns as he graciously thanked fans for their support and signed several autographs. It was over a half hour later before they pulled into her driveway.

  They walked up to her porch. Putting his big hands on her shoulders, he smiled down at her. His actions made it clear he didn't intend to stay the night.

  Rachel swallowed her disappointment. It was better this way. Two nights in a row could turn into three, then four. Too many nights with an emotionally unavailable man meant nothing but heartbreak. Been there, not stupid enough to do it again.

  "Thanks, Rae, for everything."

  "Me—what did I do?"

  "You burned off my tension. Allowed me to relax.” One corner of his mouth quirked. “I had one hell of a good time, last night in bed and tonight in good company and conversation."

  He bent down and gave her a long, wet kiss. “Good night, baby.” His dark eyes searched her face. “I'll see you tomorrow evening for drills. We fly out on Saturday morning for the Sunday game. Maybe we could hook up on Friday night? I'll buy you dinner."

  She nodded. “I'd like that."

  He turned to leave, then hesitated. “Are you sure you're okay with this? I mean where we're at?"

  "I'm fine. Absolutely fine. This is what I want too."

  He nodded, then smiled. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes, but he kept quiet. She watched him go, bringing a finger up to touch the lips he'd just kissed. She'd better build those walls higher before she fell
in love with this man again.

  Had she ever fallen out of love with him?

  As the sun rose over the Cascade Mountains, Rachel wrote out another check, then calculated her bank balance. Her heart sank. A double-digit balance didn't go far, and she didn't get paid for another week.

  Someone pounded on the door, and she jumped and shot to her feet, scattering papers and envelopes across the floor. The pounding increased as she hurried to answer it. She threw the door open to find Mitch on the other side.

  "Is something wrong?” Her heart caught in her throat. Had something happened to her dad or brother?

  "This!” Her brother shoved the newspaper in her face. “This is wrong!"

  Momentary relief flooded her. After all, this worrying crap was hard work. Rachel grabbed the newspaper out of her brother's hand. And stared. And stared. And stared—at the picture of Derek with his tongue down her throat. The caption said: Jacks’ wide receiver, Derek Ramsey, celebrates the team's first win with an unidentified woman.

  "They didn't get my good side.” Rachel faked a grin and flinched as she waited for the explosion.

  "Is that all you have to say?” Her brother's face displayed the most interesting shades of red and purple.

  "We didn't make the front page.” She faked a frown.

  "It's all over the Internet."

  "Oh. So I'm famous?"

  "What the fuck are you doing—acting like this is a big joke?” If he got any madder, he'd burst that vessel pulsing in his neck; then she'd have a mess to clean up. She really hated messes.

  "It's hard to tell it's me."

  "Really? Then how come my phone and Riley's and Dad's have been ringing off the hook since this morning? What are we supposed to tell all these people?"

  "That I had fun."

  "Fun! You call this fun?"

  "Actually yes, I do."

  He snorted and stamped his foot. “You're just a plaything to him, a momentary distraction."

  "Is that a bad thing? Maybe that's all he is to me."

  "Rachel, what is wrong with you? Doesn't it concern you that he's using you?"

  "Maybe I'm using him.” Rachel stifled a yawn. “Trust me, Mitch. I know what I'm doing.” Like hell she did.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Earning his trust. Getting close enough to him to appeal to his basic sense of decency."

  "Are you sure he has any?"

  "If he doesn't, Dad's screwed, because nothing any of us do will change a thing."

  "You're sleeping with him again, aren't you?"

  "Actually we didn't sleep much.” She braced herself for his next detonation. This whole line of questioning was way beyond old.

  "I'm going to castrate the bastard.” He glanced at his watch. “Unfortunately the jerk gets a stay of execution. I'm late for school."

  "Well, have a nice day.” Rachel slammed the door in his face and locked it. Leaning against it, she took a deep breath. Despite her pseudo-smart-ass attitude, fighting with her brother exhausted her.

  Her phone rang. No rest for the weary or justly accused. She crossed the room and checked caller ID. Her father. They were tag teaming her. Gearing herself for the next onslaught, she answered the phone. “Hi, Daddy."

  "What the hell is this picture of you with Derek Ramsey? I knew no good would come from you moving onto his property. You need to move out. Now.” Her father sounded amazingly sober.

  "No.” She dug her feet in. No more bending to her father's and brothers’ wills. She drew a line in the sand and dared him to cross over.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Dad, I'm staying here. I'm helping him get his game back."

  "Is that what you call it?"

  "What I do and with who is my business.” As much as she loved him, no way would he run her life again.

  "Not when it affects me and the whole family. Do you have any idea what this means?"

  Rachel gripped the phone tighter. “It means I'm being my own woman."

  "Damn, Rachel, that's not it at all. Think about what this could do if the press starts digging around and finds out who you are. It won't take long for them to make a connection. Then they'll nose around for information, and they may find it. I don't want them to find it. I want this to go away."

  "It's not going away, Dad. Not as long as you're accepting responsibility.” She shivered and checked the level of the heat on the furnace. Feeling cold and a little sick, she sank into a chair. Wasn't this just what she wanted? For the press to find out the truth.

  "Rae, you need to avoid this guy. For me."

  "He's paying me to help him with his game. I can't back out now, but I will keep a low profile."

  "I sure as hell hope that's good enough. It'd be better if you got the hell off his property and out of the area."

  "I'll be careful. I promise."

  "You can't get involved with him. For all our sakes."

  "I know, Dad. I know. We're not involved."

  She hung up, walked to the window, and looked out. On her porch, Simon looked in at her and thumped his tail, obviously hoping she'd let him in so he could feast on Charlie's cat food. He must have escaped the fortified dog kennel in record time—Derek's truck had rumbled down the driveway about five this morning on his way to work out.

  Leaning her forehead against the cool glass, she contemplated the mess she'd gotten herself into.

  Derek lay on his back and bench-pressed more than his weight. Just as he lifted the weights, Tyler stuck a newspaper in front of his face.

  "Shit. What the fuck are you doing?” Gritting his teeth, arms shaking from the effort, he lowered the barbell and sat up. Tyler waved the newspaper in front of his face. Derek caught a glimpse of a picture of him in a lip-lock with—

  Oh shit. Rachel? Like he'd had his tongue down any other woman's throat in the past few months. Of course it was Rachel.

  Derek ripped the paper out of Tyler's hand and scanned the caption. “Oh man. This isn't good. Did Rachel see this?"

  "How the fuck would I know? Do you think I keep tabs on her?” Tyler snorted, clearly enjoying his cousin's distress.

  "I hope not.” Derek wiped sweat from his face with a towel.

  Tyler grinned. “Afraid I'll move in on your territory?"

  "Don't even think about it."

  "So it's a case of you don't want her, but no one else can have her either."

  Who said Derek didn't want her? He wanted her so badly he'd lain awake most of the night, his thoughts alternating between replaying the game and replaying the sex. He'd wanted her to stay the night, but he hadn't asked. If they were going to keep this casual, then they had to limit the sex to once a week before a game. In his mind that kept it strictly business. The minute it became an every-night or even every-other-night thing, the whole makeup of their relationship changed.

  Swiping the sweat off his brow with a towel, he read the photo caption again. “Damn. I have to call Rachel."

  He tried several times, but no answer. Finally he settled for leaving a message asking her to call. She didn't.

  But everyone else did, including his father and his sister, both wanting to know what the hell was going on. He couldn't very well tell them when he didn't know himself.

  They liked Rachel, would love to have her as part of their family, but their concern went deeper than that. It had to do with his mother. It always seemed to go back to her. He knew he had abandonment issues. Hell, didn't everyone have issues?

  Derek always held back a piece of himself, even from his family and Tyler.

  Rachel was different. She knew him. He'd shared so many hopes and dreams with her over the years. She stripped bare his most secret, painful spots. He couldn't afford that. Not anymore.

  He'd protect his heart from the one woman who had the most power to do damage, next to his mother.

  HughJack studied the game films for this week's opponent. Every team had at least one good game in them no matter how lousy their season. It was consistency, week
in, week out that counted. One win meant nothing. A string of wins meant everything.

  HughJack switched to a different video—not that they were actually using videotapes anymore; everything was strictly digital now. He watched his team at last week's game, knowing this week's opponent would be doing the same thing, analyzing them for weaknesses, figuring out how to capitalize on their mistakes and minimize their strengths.

  He watched as Derek Ramsey threw a block, caught a pass up the middle, ran for twenty-five yards. He'd been all over the field. Damn, when Ramsey was in the zone, the kid was pure poetry in motion. And Harris, well, the cocky bastard had finally exercised his arm instead of his mouth.

  The Jacks might well have some of the best raw material in the league if he could minimize their mistakes and mold them into a consistent winner.

  If he figured how to do that, watch out professional football.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Fifteen

  Quarterback Sneak

  All week Rachel hid behind her power suits and professional facade. Derek didn't question it. They worked out as usual every night or watched game film. Derek kept his distance, and so did she until Friday night. She avoided being seen with him in public and cooked dinner for both of them at Derek's house. Afterward they dropped both their respective emotional walls and their pants and engaged in hot, heavy sex far into the night.

  Derek flew out for the game the next morning while Rachel busied herself with the animals and a long-overdue bout of housecleaning.

  Late afternoon, someone pounded incessantly on her front door. She ran to open it. Cass pushed her way past, dragging three suitcases. Simon, seeing an opening, slipped in with her and dived into the cat food dish.

  Dumping the bags unceremoniously on the floor, Cass stomped into the kitchen and poured herself a beer.

  Charlie rose from his nap on the couch and snarled at Simon, who growled back. Rachel grabbed Simon by the collar, hauled his butt outside, and firmly shut the door behind him.