Fourth and Goal

by Jami Davenport

  For three weeks, they'd gone deep before every game, and the Lumberjacks had won all three of those games. On Sunday night, they would play the coach's old team on national TV at home. The Texas Bulls steamrolled their competition and showed no signs of letting up. They'd trash-talked all week about how they'd clear-cut the Jacks. Fuck that. He'd pull their sorry asses up by their roots.

  Damn, he needed Rachel. He needed the sexual and emotional boost that came after a night with her. A game as big as this one required her participation late into the night. Hot sex might not have anything to do with his team's winning streak or his sudden confidence in his abilities. Coincidence or not, no way in hell would he mess up a good thing.

  They had an informal agreement, one he was damn well going to exercise. What the hell had happened to her? He'd called her cell a few times. It went straight to voice mail. Texting didn't bring any better results.

  As he stepped into the tack room, Rachel's influence overpowered him. Neat, tidy, and organized, she'd sorted all their supplies and various pieces of tack and then stored them in clear plastic bins labeled with the contents. Incredible. He'd beg her to organize his house next.

  A noisy truck rattled up the driveway and slowed to a stop. It sputtered and hiccuped as its driver turned off the ignition. Biting his lip, he resisted the urge to run out the door and demand to know where she'd been. Instead he stayed in the barn, pretending to check the horses, and waited.

  "Dare?"

  She stood in the doorway. His personal savior. The outside light highlighted her chestnut hair. Stress was written on her face, visible even though it was partially obscured in the shadows. Her trim little body was strung tight.

  His legs reduced the space between them in a few short strides. That stupid-assed smile he always had when she was around spread across his face.

  "Hey. You okay?” He stopped a few feet from her.

  "I'm fine. What are you doing out here? Are the horses okay?” Her eyes flicked to each stall and back to him.

  "The horses are fine. It's Saturday night, and I couldn't sleep."

  Her expression relaxed a little. “I'm sorry I'm late.” She took a step forward and tripped over Simon's ball. Derek lunged for her and held her to him for longer than necessary. She regained her feet, and he let her go—for now. She picked up Simon's ball and threw it. He bombed after it, spinning her around in the process.

  "Watch out. You know he doesn't acknowledge the existence of anything but his ball.” Derek wrapped his fingers around her arm to steady her. The woman was a danger to herself, the proof in her multiple bruised body parts.

  A smile lit up her face, which did weird things to his stomach. He should've eaten hours ago.

  "I was starting to worry about you.” He checked her out in the aisleway light. Her long legs were encased in navy slacks, and she wore an off-white sweater tight enough to accentuate her curves. Worry traced little lines in the corners of her eyes.

  "Are you sure you're okay?” He stared at her, but she closed the shutters and froze her expression into one of calm, confidence. Damn, he wanted to rattle her composure.

  "I haven't seen you in a few days."

  He breathed a sigh of relief. That explained the worry in her eyes, a momentary breach in her armor. She'd been worried about him, about them. “I worked a charity function last night, and the night before I pored over game films with the team."

  "Dare, you don't owe me an explanation.” She spoke softly and looked away, not meeting his gaze.

  "I would've invited you, but you seem to have an issue with being seen with me in public."

  "It's not like that."

  "What is it like?” He needed to know. It grated on him.

  "I'd rather not attract any attention."

  "Honey, you attract plenty of attention without me.” He moved to her like metal to a magnet and pulled her to his chest. She stiffened in his arms, her hands at her sides. He wove his fingers through her hair and kissed her neck.

  "If you found someone else to relax with before a game, I'd understand."

  "Is that what this is about?” He pulled back and searched her eyes for an honest reaction. It was important to him.

  She nodded. “I don't want you to feel trapped. Either of us is free to step away at any moment with no harm done."

  No harm done? He wasn't so sure, but he didn't care to dissect his own feelings or her apparent lack of feelings. “I want you, Rae."

  "I want you too.” Her mouth turned up at the corners, almost a smile but not quite. She wrapped her arms around his neck and went all soft against him. His heart rate increased tenfold.

  Warmth spread through him. She'd dropped her guard, and he inched inside. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed the tip of his nose. Such a simple act brought incredible pleasure. He sighed and buried his face in her hair. The silky strands caressed his face, tickled his nose. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo, reminding him of the roses his mom had grown in her garden.

  Lifting his head, he met her gaze. Aw hell, those green eyes beat down every last ounce of resistance. He'd slay dragons for this woman, even battle gravity to keep her safe. The dragon slaying would be easier.

  She rewarded him with a broad smile, warming his heart and heating his groin. “Tyler called looking for you. They're doing karaoke at Character's Corner. He wants you to join him."

  "Only if you'll go with me.” He couldn't stand another minute without her. Besides, he didn't have a problem being seen with her. In fact, just the opposite. He liked showing her off.

  Her mouth clenched shut. “I can't. Really. People will talk."

  "You mean your family will talk. Character's is like home. No one pays us much attention.” Not totally true, especially with the team on a rare winning streak.

  "But—"

  "No buts.” He put a hand on her arm and guided her to his truck. She didn't resist. Much. It was either that, or he'd be dumping her ass on one of those saddles and screwing her brains out.

  He'd add that one to his duffel bag of tricks for later use.

  Derek stretched his arm across the back of the booth and rested his hand on Rachel's shoulder. Very few seats were left in this neighborhood bar on a rockin’ Saturday night. Tyler and his newest one-night-stand bimbo sat across from them.

  The bleached blonde kept feeling Tyler up under the table, not that Derek was in any position to criticize. In fact, his cock twitched at the memory.

  Tyler yawned and drank another glass of beer. His date's boobs stood out like helium balloons with nipples. Derek steered clear of them. Better not poke something sharp in one of those suckers. The resulting explosion would level a whole city block.

  Bimbo Girl seemed oblivious to Tyler's disinterest. She clearly assumed she'd snared the quarterback in her trap for the night. Derek predicted the league's party boy would be in bed—alone—by midnight.

  His gaze swung from Rachel, a real woman, to Barbie in the flesh, surgically altered to closely resemble the out-of-proportion doll and just as plastic. He'd bet her brain was empty too.

  Thank God for Rachel. She might be the clumsiest thing in lipstick, but she had it going on for him. She made his days and nights in ways he refused to examine or interpret. Girls like Bambi, Barbie, Bimbi, whatever the fuck her name was, didn't prime his rod. If she paraded past him naked, he doubted he could get it up for her. He found her a big turnoff. If his yawning was any indicator, so did Tyler.

  Derek drew Rachel closer. She ducked her head, hiding behind a wall of hair. He stiffened and reined in his irritation. A little.

  "You act like you're ashamed to be seen with a dumb jock.” His tight jaw barely moved.

  "You're far from a dumb jock.” She rubbed his thigh.

  "Don't try to distract me. You're not wearing your hair back. Instead you're using it for a curtain. You always have your hair pulled off your face or in a ponytail."

  "I don't want another picture in the paper."

  "Won't happen.�
� He faked a confidence he couldn't guarantee.

  "You don't know that.” She saw right through him.

  "Your family gave you major shit for that picture."

  "What do you think?"

  "I think they were all over it. I'm sorry, Rae; it comes with the territory."

  "I just want to keep a low profile."

  "Feel free to lower your profile. My cock would really appreciate it.” He grinned, and she slapped his arm. Chuckling, he nuzzled her neck.

  His cousin slouched lower and glowered at them.

  Jealous bastard, you had your share of chances to have something good with Cass.

  Too bad for Tyler, but his stubborn, selfish cousin didn't get it. He played around with women who bored him to tears except in bed. But even great sex got boring if there was no connection. Tyler hadn't reached that level of self-awareness yet. He kept going the bimbo route.

  He didn't want to think about what route he'd go when it came time for him to part ways with Rachel.

  "Derek! Come on up, Derek,” the karaoke DJ called from across the room.

  Frowning, Derek looked around the crowded bar to see if there was another Derek in the room. No one walked toward the karaoke stage.

  Tyler perked up and grinned at him. “Hey, cuz, they're calling your name."

  "I didn't put a song in."

  Tyler just shrugged, and Rachel looked the other way, suddenly fascinated by the foam topping their pitcher of beer. Tyler's blonde bimbo date smiled blankly, missing the entire conversation. Standing, Derek glared at them both and stepped onto the small stage. A few bar patrons recognized him as a Lumberjack and gave him a smattering of applause.

  Derek loved to sing. He didn't do it often enough. He'd been blessed with a good voice—a little more of a country music voice than a rock voice, but he could do both and proved it by belting out a rowdy country song. In no time half the patrons crowded the dance floor.

  Some cowboy in the corner made his move on Rachel and asked her to dance the two-step. Derek would've been jealous, but the joke was on the cowboy. After Rachel stomped on his feet for the fifth time, he figured out she danced like a duck on steroids. When the song ended, the cowboy limped to his table without a glance back. Another one bites the dust, and he hadn't even had to threaten to kick his ass.

  "Not bad for an out-of-tune fuckhead.” Tyler slurred his words a little.

  "Screw you.” Derek took his seat next to Rachel and ignored his asshole cousin. He moved the pitcher of beer out of range. Tyler'd had enough.

  "I'll sing one with you and make you look good."

  "Yeah, fine. Like you could read the words on a sober day."

  "Try me."

  Twenty minutes later, they sang a popular song together, which had the whole place rocking. Getting into it, he put in for a few more songs; so did Tyler. What the hell. It was Saturday night, and his life looked pretty damn good.

  He glanced over at Rachel. Laughing, she turned her face up to his. Their eyes met and locked. A small but dangerous earthquake ripped through him. She leaned against his shoulder with a contented sigh. She was just about the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen—with or without makeup. Why she considered herself plain, he'd never understand. Her well-meaning brothers had certainly done their jobs planting crap in her head.

  His glare scared off every man who looked her way. Their hungry stares pissed him off. Maybe he had no right to claim her, but he did it just the same. For as long as they both adhered to their agreement, she was his.

  He'd battled these conflicting feelings ever since she'd set foot on his farm. He'd battle them until she walked out of his life at the end of the season. For both their sakes, that's when he'd end it if she didn't beat him to the punch.

  Rachel ordered a grasshopper. Damn, it was going to be a good night. A smile crept across his face. He buried his fingers in her silky auburn hair and imagined it gliding over his naked body, stroking all his ultrasensitive nerve endings and feeding the endless fire she ignited in his heart.

  On impulse he tilted her chin upward, and moved closer. He wanted his mouth on hers as badly as he'd ever wanted anything—well, except for a certain part of him inside a certain part of her.

  Leaning close, their lips met. One touch and emotions rippled inside him like waves lapping the edge of a pond. He took her mouth gently, letting the feelings he kept under wraps express themselves. His mouth covered hers, sampling the pleasures he found there. He nibbled on her lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Rachel moaned. Derek shut his eyes and willed the moment to last forever.

  "Hey, you two! Get a room!"

  Derek pulled back, annoyed, and shot Tyler a look that sent most defensive backs ducking for cover. Tyler didn't flinch; he'd been desensitized to Derek's homicidal glares over the years. Shaking her head as if to clear it, Rachel picked up her grasshopper and took a sip. She winked at Derek through lowered lashes. He winked back. Tyler rolled his eyes.

  "I think we need to get going. I've had enough of living my sex life vicariously through these two. Let's go.” Tyler tugged on the blonde's hand.

  "Don't let us drive you away."

  "Don't push it, cuz, or I'll never leave.” Tyler stifled another yawn. Derek doubted Bimbo was going home with Tyler tonight.

  "Sorry.” Derek didn't feel the least bit sorry.

  Tyler strode out of the building, pausing to sign a few autographs. Bimbo dogged his heels.

  "Is he okay to drive?"

  "He's not driving.” Derek tossed a set of keys in the air.

  "How'd you do that?"

  "Picked up a trick or two from Simon.” He shoved the keys in his pocket. “Do you want to go?"

  "As soon as I finish my drink.” She gave him the once-over. Her half-lidded gaze slid over his body.

  "Drink fast.” He shifted his butt but found no relief from his tight jeans and hard cock.

  Derek brought his mouth to her ear and whispered on impulse. “Don't keep me waiting, baby. A week's a long time."

  She turned her face toward his so her lips brushed his cheek and her breath feathered his ear. “For me too."

  A tremor ran through him, fear and joy combined. The words he spoke were the truth, and it scared the crap out of him. He missed her, and not just her body. Missing her meant she mattered. If she mattered, that gave her power over him or, even worse, the ability to hurt him.

  She smelled so damn good and felt so soft. Her smile did incredible things to him. Still she held something of herself back, except in bed. He couldn't break through the protective coating, wasn't even sure he wanted to.

  Rachel bumped her glass and toppled it. The remainder of her drink spilled onto the table. She righted the glass and mopped the small mess with a few napkins. Tightening her facial muscles into a blank mask, she turned to him. “I'm done."

  His mouth twitched. To his credit, he held back both his smile and the words on the tip of his tongue. Guzzling the remainder of his beer, he put his glass on the table next to hers, avoiding the napkin pile. “Let's go."

  Derek tossed several bills on the table and held out his hand. Rachel took it and promptly tripped. He caught her and shook his head.

  "Don't say it.” She glanced around the dark bar. No one looked their way. Maybe her power suits could be lined with bubble wrap.

  "I don't think you can blame it on alcohol.” His dark eyes twinkled with mischief. She faked a pout, which brought a deep, sexy chuckle from him.

  "Maybe I'm a little tipsy."

  "You've hardly had anything to drink. Rae, I've seen you trip on flat ground wearing tennis shoes when you're stone-cold sober."

  "Are you calling me clumsy?"

  "When haven't I? Just promise me you'll stay away from CFMs."

  "CFMs?"

  "Come Fuck Me shoes. You know, hooker stilettos with five-inch heels."

  Her eyes grew wide, and she stared at him, horrified. “That'd be like putting a porcupine near that woman's boobs. The result woul
d be disastrous."

  He threw back his head and laughed. “You got that right, baby."

  Hand in hand, they walked to his truck parked in the back of the lot. He started to open the passenger door for her when she turned to face him. His dark eyes smoldered with suppressed passion. Her ice princess persona melted under the heat of his gaze, revealing a brazen vixen underneath.

  No commitment expected, no regrets, just incredible, hard recreational sex for the good of the team, of course. Her heart didn't buy it, but she hoped his did.

  Leaning against the truck, Rachel yanked Derek against her. She threaded her fingers through his hair and looked up into his eyes. Lust burned in those chocolate depths, along with a hint of something else, something deeper and a heck of a lot more dangerous to her heart and his. Embracing denial, she concentrated on the physical: the hard muscles of his chest pressing against hers, his strong thighs enclosing her legs, and her hips cradling his. His erection massaged her crotch. She craved the feel of all that hardness driving inside her, touching all her soft, wet places. Her limbs turned to liquid, refusing to support her.

  Holding her up with his body, Derek flattened her against the truck. Their lips collided with the force of a tackle hitting the line. She drove him toward the end zone with her urgency. Their tongues danced to a wild, untamed beat. His crotch ground harder against hers. She grabbed handfuls of his fine butt and held on to her sexy jock.

  "Oh God, Rae. Damn.” His mouth devoured hers, taking no prisoners and giving no ground. His tongue invaded and conquered the recesses of her mouth, tangled with her tongue, sucked the breath out of her.

  They needed to stop and get hell out of there. Their behavior didn't qualify as keeping a low profile.

  "We should go.” She panted into his ear, pulling on the lobe with her teeth. She squeezed his butt, then dipped one hand lower and stroked his balls from behind.

  "Aw fuck. The hood of this truck looks pretty damn good right about now."

  "Have you ever done that?” Words tumbled from her mouth in a breathless jumble.