Derek looked away from her mouth and cleared his throat. “Why don’t you want to?”
“Why would I?”
The question surprised him, completely unexpected, completely alien. He opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out except a small grunt. Bridget watched him, one brow raised, something like humor flashing in her eyes. Or maybe he was imagining the humor because she wasn’t smiling. And she didn’t watch him for long. Already her eyes drifted away from him, focusing on the car instead. She adjusted the backpack again, the keys making a loud noise in the sudden chilled silence surrounding them.
“Why?” He repeated her question and pushed away from the car. “I just thought, you know, it might be fun—”
“Listen Derek. We did our thing. You don’t need to pretend it was anything more than what it was, okay?”
Was she serious? She couldn’t be. But he couldn’t tell because she was looking away from him, not meeting his eyes. He couldn’t even really see her face because she turned away from him.
He jammed his hands into his pockets and stepped away from the car. “So it was just a one-night stand then?”
Bridget’s head whipped around, the edge of her ponytail swinging to the side with the movement. Her eyes flashed, or maybe it was just a reflection off the lenses of her glasses. An expression crossed her face, there and gone so quickly he almost missed it. “Wasn’t it?”
What was she trying to hide in her expression? He almost missed it—almost. But he caught the glimpse of surprise and uncertainty. The slight waver in her soft voice when she spoke. And maybe something else. Not hope. Interest?
Or maybe he was just seeing and hearing what he wanted to see, what he was so used to seeing. He tried to think, to remember the last time he had ever been turned down before.
He couldn’t remember when. And he couldn’t believe it was happening now. If he played this the right way, said the right thing, could he get her to change her mind?
Derek took a deep breath and stepped a little closer to her. He didn’t want to crowd her, didn’t want to intimidate her—but he did want to get closer to her. Close enough to feel the heat of her body against his. No, not just the heat. He wanted to feel her, her soft curves and lean muscles. The silky softness of those fiery red strands of hair.
He stopped before he could get too close. What the hell was wrong with him? Women didn’t have this effect on him. He didn’t have to chase them—they usually chased him. Is that why he was suddenly so determined? Because she didn’t seem to be interested?
That had to be it. It had to be.
He cleared his throat and offered Bridget a charming smile, kicking up the wattage just a bit. How many times had he been told this particular smile was irresistible? That’s what he was aiming for. The smile and a few carefully chosen words, that’s all he needed.
“It doesn’t have to be. A one-night stand, that is.” He leaned a little closer and reached out with his hand, thinking he could stroke her arm or maybe even take her hand in his.
But Bridget stepped away. And she didn’t just step away—she laughed. A light musical sound that echoed from the bare pipes and concrete ceiling above them, then bounced off the cold floor beneath their feet. She shook her head and stepped around him, jabbing the key into the door and unlocking it. Her lips curved into a smile, a wide bright smile that made the air rush from his lungs.
“Nice one.” She tossed the backpack onto the passenger seat then grabbed the door frame and eased herself into the driver’s seat. She looked up at him, that wide beautiful smile still on her face. “No wonder they call you the playmaker.”
“But—”
“I’ll see you around, Derek.” She slammed the door closed and started the car, the engine belching with a loud rumble before smoothing out. She backed the car out of the space, gave him a small wave, then pulled away.
What the fuck? Derek stared after her, wondering what the hell had just happened.
And wondering why the hell the dismissal—and the comment—left him feeling like he had just been slammed into the boards without wearing any gear.
Chapter Seven
He didn’t stop to think, didn’t want to think. If he did, he would walk back to the car and drive away.
That wasn’t an option.
Derek fisted his hand and brought it against the heavy wood door. Once, twice. Would anyone even hear it? He tried to remember the details from the last time he was here, two weeks ago.
Too bad the only details he could remember were of Bridget. Her body warm in his arms as he carried her upstairs, her body flush and supple beneath him as he pounded into her—
Yeah, he needed to stop remembering those details. Why couldn’t he stop remembering?
He didn’t want to know the answer to that. Hell, he didn’t even want to know why he was asking the damn question. This wasn’t like him, to be so focused on one woman. Especially not a woman he’d already had.
He banged on the door again then stepped back and looked around. Stately old rowhomes lined the street, their stone facades weathered but maintained, many with ivy climbing the fronts. Rich wood gleamed from the different doorways, reflections from a different time. This neighborhood off St. Paul Street was old, dating back to a more luxurious era from the turn of the century. He had never paid attention before, not that he really ever visited this part of town.
It was a residential neighborhood, settled and permanent, inviting. No foot traffic, but plenty of cars lining both sides of the narrow one-way street. He looked around, searching for an old red sedan. It should stand out among the other vehicles, all of them newer, a little more expensive.
Derek didn’t see it. That didn’t mean she wasn’t home. For all he knew, she could be parked the next street over. Or out back. She had to be home. It was late on a Sunday morning, where else would she be?
He turned back to the door, finally noticing the buzzer discreetly tucked to the side. Muttering under his breath, he pushed the button, holding it in longer than necessary.
Another minute went by. He was ready to turn around and leave, ready to give up, when the wide door finally opened. And shit, he hadn’t been expecting another man to open it.
Derek stood a little straighter, studying the man with a quick once-over. He was tall, just over six feet. Hell, maybe an inch or two taller than himself. Probably in his early-to-mid thirties, trim and fit, nicely dressed in dark trousers and a button down shirt. Jet black hair, square jaw, dark eyes. Those dark eyes narrowed just the slightest bit and Derek had the feeling that he was being studied as well.
“May I help you?” The voice was deep, cultured and refined, with the slightest hint of an accent. Derek straightened and met the man’s eyes straight on.
“I’m looking for Bridget.” Was it his imagination, or did the man’s eyes rake over him? Like he was being sized up and evaluated—and found lacking.
“She’s not home.”
Not the answer he had been expecting. He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his trousers and rocked back on his heels. He wanted to ask the guy who he was. No, he wanted to ask him who he was in relation to Bridget. Friend? Neighbor? Something else?
Derek clenched his jaw instead, just for a second. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”
The guy glanced at his watch, an expensive accessory in thin gold. Then he looked back at Derek, his dark brows raised in question. Or maybe impatience. “I’m sorry, no. She’s at the hospital—”
“Hospital?” The word fell from his mouth on a breath of anxiety. Derek’s pulse rate kicked up, hard and heavy. He took a deep breath, forced it out slowly. “Is she okay? Did something happen?”
The guy just watched him, those dark eyes cool and intense, studying. Judging. Derek wanted to shove him, to slam his fist against that square jaw. Why the hell was he just staring at him instead of answering the damn question? What if something had happened to Bridget? What if—
“Nothing is wrong. She vo
lunteers there on Sunday mornings.”
Derek opened his mouth then promptly shut it. She volunteered at the hospital? What did she do? A dozen questions rushed through his mind, each begging for an answer. Looking at the man in front of him, that expression of judgment on his face, Derek doubted he’d get answers to any of them.
“Do you know which hospital?” No, he didn’t expect an answer. The guy stepped back, his hand on the edge of the door. For a surprised second, Derek expected the door to be closed in his face. But the man’s expression changed, becoming thoughtful, almost curious. Or maybe not, because Derek blinked and the blank expression was back, giving nothing away. And yeah, he was going to close the door and leave Derek standing there like an idiot—
“City General. The pediatric ward.”
The heavy wooden door closed with a soft thud before Derek could say anything, not even a thank you. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to say anything anyway because his mind was swimming with a dozen different thoughts and images.
Bridget did volunteer work with sick kids. Every Sunday.
He hadn’t expected that. Hell, he hadn’t expected anything, really. Because he didn’t really know her. At all. Yeah, he knew she was part of the ice crew. She obviously kept herself in shape, with a firm toned body that she hid under baggy clothes.
At least, hid the few times he had seen her.
He knew nothing about her. Nothing except her name, what kind of car she drove, and what that toned body felt like under his, soft and flush and welcoming—
Fuck. What the hell was wrong with him? He was standing on the steps to her apartment, his cock hardening at just the memory of her body beneath his, and she was volunteering. With sick kids.
He tried to imagine any of the other women he had been with doing something like that and couldn’t. Yeah, quite a few of the wives and girlfriends did different charity work. So did the team. But he had never been that involved, other than just showing up and maybe signing autographs or donating money. Lip service, nothing more than that.
What else did Bridget do that he didn’t know about? Hell, he didn’t know. He wasn’t even sure he remembered her last name. No, wait. Yes, he did. Lloyd. Bridget Lloyd. Great, he remembered her last name. He still didn’t know anything else about her. So what kind of an ass did that make him?
A big one. Super-sized.
Derek pulled the keys from the coat pocket and made his way back the SUV. City General wasn’t too far from here. Maybe he could meet up with Bridget, offer to buy her lunch or something.
And then maybe take the time to get to know her, instead of hoping for a repeat of the other week.
Chapter Eight
Drained. That was the best word to describe it.
Bridget unclipped the volunteer badge from the collar of her shirt and stuffed into her jacket. Her fingers closed over her car keys and she pulled them out, adjusting the backpack over her shoulder as she moved through the automatic doors. She stopped on the sidewalk and took a deep breath as they closed with a hiss behind her.
Why did the air always smell fresher, sweeter, when she left? Stupid question. She knew why. It happened after every visit. She’d walk outside and the air would hit her, sometimes icy cold, sometimes moist with humidity depending on the time of year.
Today the air was chilly. Not really cold, just crisp. With an underlying hint of green and the promise of warmth. Spring would be here in a few weeks, with the ups and downs of its finicky weather before finally making up its mind. Today was one of those ups, with a clear sky and a teasing touch of warmth beneath the chill. Still cool enough for a jacket but not so cold you had to bundle up.
Bridget moved to the side and took another deep breath, chasing away the smell of antiseptic and stale air of the hospital. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the smell, no matter how many times she came here.
At least today hadn’t been too bad. A small smile tugged at her lips at the memory of Dionne and Jerry. All the kids had been energetic today, filled with excitement and energy. A case of early Spring Fever? Probably. She couldn’t blame them. Who could? Not when they were stuck in the hospital, with no family but the system to care about them.
It sucked. Totally and completely sucked. But they were good kids, determined to have fun in spite of the obstacles thrown their way. And if she could help, just a little bit, just by being there, then it was worth the emotional blast she always felt when she left.
She took one last deep breath of the fresh air then headed to the parking garage across the street. Time to go home, study, and finally, finally take some time to relax and do absolutely nothing.
A blur of movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention and she slowed her steps, surprised to see the man stepping toward her. Bridget stopped short, her fingers tightening around the keys just as recognition hit her.
She stepped back, her eyes widening in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Derek stopped on the sidewalk next to her, a grin teasing the edges of his mouth. He looked different, dressed down in a pair of khaki trousers. His hands were shoved into the pockets of a brown leather jacket, open to reveal a dark blue sweater. No doubt the color would turn his eyes an even brighter blue—if she could see them. But he had on a pair of expensive sunglasses, so dark she couldn’t see his eyes. She could feel his gaze on her, though, despite the dark lenses.
“I wanted to invite you to lunch.”
The words surprised her, catching her just as off-guard as his appearance here. Bridget glanced over her shoulder, wondering if maybe she was imagining things, wondering if someone was pulling a prank on her. But there was nobody behind her, nobody to the side waiting to jump out and yell “Surprise!”.
She grabbed the strap of the backpack and pulled it up her shoulder, her hand fisting around it and holding it in place. Derek was watching her, his teasing grin still in place but not quite as wide or bright. “Are you up for lunch?”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I stopped by your place—”
“You went to my house?”
Derek’s grin faded. He didn’t frown, but she could tell he was surprised by her reaction. And okay, maybe she did sound a little defensive. Why wouldn’t she? He had gone to her place! He’d probably react the same way if someone he didn’t really know showed up at his place, unannounced and unexpected.
“Yeah, I did. I wanted to see if you wanted to grab a bite to eat. You have a problem with that?”
Now who had the attitude? Not that she could blame him. “No. I mean, I guess not. I’m just surprised.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. Bridget couldn’t tell where he was looking, not with those dark glasses on, but she thought he might be studying something behind her. She glanced over her shoulder again but didn’t see anything except the stark white brick of the hospital entrance, flanked by a few bare trees. Sterile, harsh, not exactly welcoming. She turned back to Derek, surprised to see he had pushed the sunglasses up. His blue eyes focused on hers, deep and thoughtful.
“What exactly do you do here, anyway?”
Bridget wanted to ignore him. It wasn’t his business and it wasn’t something she usually shared with people. And if the question had been nothing more than curiosity, nothing more than a lame attempt at conversation, she would have ignored him. But there was something in his eyes, something in the quiet tone of his smooth voice that let her know it wasn’t just curiosity. She glanced behind her once more then turned back to him and shrugged.
“I volunteer, that’s all.”
“Yeah, but what do you do?”
“Not much. Just hang out with the kids, talk to them. Sometimes we read, sometimes we play games.” A smile teased her lips. “Today they were pretty wound up so we ended up playing a lot of games.”
Derek’s gaze shot back to the hospital entrance, a frown creasing his brow. But he didn’t say anything else, not even when he looked back at her. And she could
n’t read the expression on his face, couldn’t tell what he was thinking when his gaze met hers. She shuffled her feet, suddenly uncomfortable.
And entirely too curious for her own good. “So how did you know I was here?”
His face cleared, that small devilish grin lighting his face again. “Your neighbor said you were here.”
“Neighbor?”
“Yeah. Tall guy, black hair.”
William. Bridget thought about correcting him, telling him that William was her cousin, not her neighbor. But she didn’t. She didn’t know why, just thought that maybe she shouldn’t share that much information with Derek. It made no sense but she didn’t question it.
“William. His name is William.”
Derek nodded, watching her. She could see the curiosity that flared in the back of his eyes and thought he might ask for more information. But he didn’t question her, just gave her another small grin.
“So, are you up for lunch?”
Bridget chewed on her lower lip, wondering if she should say yes. Wondering why he was even asking her.
Gah. Why was it so hard to just say yes? What was her problem? It was lunch. Just lunch. It wasn’t like his invitation from last night, when he had asked her out for drinks.
She had turned him down last night because she was afraid to go. Afraid of what his teammates might say, afraid of being laughed at. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew she didn’t fit in with that kind of crowd.
But that wasn’t the only reason she had turned him down. No, she was very much afraid that she’d invite him home. And as much as the idea excited her, it also scared her. The other week was nothing but a fluke. She wouldn’t let herself believe otherwise.
But Derek was still watching her, those clear blue eyes too deep, too intense. Waiting.
It was just lunch. She should stop questioning everything and just go with it. Wasn’t that what William was always telling her, to let go and relax, to slow down and enjoy?
Playmaker: A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella Page 5
