Kickoff Read online

  The Sharks kicked off to the Steelheads, who took a fair catch.

  Relaxed and loose, Derek jogged to the huddle. He felt great. Beyond great. Rejuvenated. Free. Confident. Like a new man.

  Then things just got better.

  For the next sixty minutes, he was all over the field, catching everything tossed his way, throwing blocks, and even tackling a safety who intercepted one of Tyler’s passes. By halftime he’d caught two touchdown passes for seventy-five yards. By the end of the game, he had another touchdown and several more receptions. So many, in fact, he came within a few yards of breaking the team record for most receptions in a game. Everything fell into place like pieces of an almost-finished puzzle.

  HughJack didn’t slam down his clipboard once. Carter smiled and nodded. Rachel avoided his gaze, but he knew what she was thinking. No words needed.

  The Steelheads won easily against a very good defensive team and improved their record to one and four.

  Perhaps there was something to having sex the night before a game. It’d never worked for him before, but then he’d never had sex with Rachel during his pro career.

  Dante slapped him on the back in the locker room. “Keep that up, man, and they’ll be forgetting my name.”

  Derek grinned, riding the high of his best pro game ever.

  The coach gathered the team together for a quick postgame talk. Electricity ran through the room. They all felt it. They’d turned a corner, entered new territory.

  HughJack waited for their undivided attention. “Gentlemen, today was our first win, but I think every man in here knows it was more than that. More than beating a team we shouldn’t have beaten. They played an almost flawless game, but we won. Today you found a way to win instead of a way to lose. That’s what good teams do.” He looked at each one of them as he tossed a football back and forth from one hand to the other. “Great teams know they’re going to win. We’re a long way from being a great team, but today we became a good team.”

  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. His gaze slipped to Rachel. She was smiling with pride gleaming in those green eyes.

  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.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Cass rolled her eyes. “Sure you do. You can’t fool me.”

  But she had to fool her. She trusted Cass, but regardless, she didn’t want anyone to know what she’d done. She was ashamed of her unprofessionalism, and more than a little embarrassed. Yet part of her didn’t regret it one iota. Look at the improvement to Derek’s game. He’d been loose and relaxed and played the game of his career. There was more in there. She knew there was.

  “Nothing happened,” she repeated, not meeting Cass’s gaze. Cass knew her, and she’d see the lie for what it was.

  Cass laughed. “I know this sounds dumb, but you’re absolutely radiant. So what’s the deal with you and Derek? Other than the sex.”

  “There is no deal and no sex. Just a professional friendship.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Our goals are compatible.”

  “Huh?”

  “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 coach and ultimately a scout, and I have a shot at it.”

  Cass blew her off. “That’s bull, and you know it. You two have the hots for each other. You did the nasty last night, and now you’re both scrambling to cover it up.”

  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. That’d show him for butting into her business. He’d meet his match with Cass.

  Derek and Tyler, interview finished, sat down across from them. 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.

  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, but Rachel declined. 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.

  Tyler was watching them with the same eagle eyes he used looking for an open receiver downfield. His knowing smirk grew broader when he and Cass exchanged knowing looks.

  “Hey, asshole, one good game doesn’t make you a star.” Some drunk fan in an LA jersey stopped at their table, barely able to stand on his own.

  Derek gritted his teeth but to his credit didn’t deck the guy. “I’ll do my best to make it a regular occurrence.”

  The guy snorted with laughter. “You got lucky.”

  “Thanks, move on.” Derek was annoyed, but he held his temper.

  “Hey, pretty lady, why don’t you hang out with a real winner, like me.” He turned his drunken attention to Rachel.

  “No thanks.” She shot the man a scathing glare, but he was too drunk to care.

  “It’s time for you to get lost,” Derek growled, and Tyler tensed, ready to have Derek’s back. Rachel glanced around the crowded room. They could not make a scene. She shouldn’t be sitting with two players as it was, though given her status as Derek’s coach and Cass’s friend, she doubted Steelheads management would give it a second thought. She needed to keep it that way.

  “It’s fine.” She put a hand on Derek’s arm. He glanced down at her, and his expression softened. He nodded his understanding.

  A waiter hustled over and forcibly removed the drunk from the premises before he could cause any additional trouble.

  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.”

  “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.

  “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 relaxed, enjoying 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.
r />   Rachel sat back in her chair. So far, Derek and she hadn’t had a second alone to discuss the elephant in the room. Last night had been epic, incredible, and forbidden. She’d had a momentary lapse in judgment, one she couldn’t have again.

  Chapter 13—Quarterback Sneak

  All week, Rachel hid behind her 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. They didn’t talk about last Saturday night.

  She’d be flying with the team on Saturday.

  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.

  Sighing, she locked the door and took a seat. Cass threw herself on the couch.

  “That bastard. That lying, cheating bastard. I’m going to feed his balls to New York’s defensive line.” She tilted her glass back and guzzled the entire thing.

  “What did he do this time?”

  “Everything. He’s a lying, cheating—” Cass slammed the glass on the coffee table.

  “Bastard. I know.”

  “He was supposed to meet me for dinner at Alfonso’s last night. He never showed up, so I checked next door. There he was, sitting in the bar surrounded by a half-dozen women. It was disgusting how they fawned all over him. Who’d have thought that asshole’s head could get any bigger, but it did after the last game. One win, and he thinks he’s a fucking celebrity.”

  “Did he see you?”

  “Sure did. Just before I dumped a pitcher of beer on his head.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “I did. Not only did I soak him, but all those little bitches too. Looked like a wet T-shirt contest gone bad.”

  Rachel laughed in spite of herself. “Cass, you never cease to amaze me.”

  “I was going to kick him to the curb anyway. Just hadn’t gotten around to it.” Cass looked around. “Where should I put my stuff?”

  “Uh, I guess in the spare bedroom. Where’d you sleep last night?”

  “I stopped by here, but no one was home, so I got a hotel room, waited for the ass to leave this a.m. and then packed all my shit and left him a fuck-you note.”

  Grabbing a couple of suitcases, Cass headed for the spare bedroom. Rachel followed. She sat on the bed and watched as the whirlwind threw her suitcases on the bed one by one, opened them, and took out her clothes. She stuffed them in drawers until the dresser overflowed, then crammed them in the closet. She didn’t seem to care. Rachel zipped her lips. Cass was pissed and taking it out on her clothes, which beat maiming or murdering a living being.

  “I’ll show the bastard. There are plenty of guys who’d beg for a chance with me.”

  “Are you sure he wasn’t just engaging in some harmless flirting? He considers it a sport.”

  “It was blatant. You’d never catch me doing anything like that. I have more class.”

  Rachel’s eyes crept up to her eyebrows. She resisted the urge to roll them. Every other week, Tyler and Cass got into an argument over one or both of them flirting.

  Cass flirted shamelessly; so did Tyler. Whether it ever came down to actually sleeping with any of their victims, Rachel hadn’t a clue and didn’t want to know.

  She had enough problems of her own.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Derek had been staring at the ceiling in his hotel room for what seemed like hours.

  He glanced at the clock and groaned. He’d been lying in bed for two hours and ten minutes. He’d counted every car horn, recited every play in the playbook, and still, he couldn’t sleep. He’d even tried reading a literary novel, which was not his cup of tea and usually lulled him into a deep slumber.

  Nothing worked. He was tense and tight and wound up.

  And he could only think of one thing that might relieve his tension—the one thing he couldn’t have, and of course, the one thing he wanted the most.

  Working with Rachel for hours on end, seeing her smile, watching every nuance of expression on her face, being close to that body of hers and not being able to touch it was killing him.

  He knew all the reasons this was wrong, ethically, emotionally, and from a practical point of view, but he still wanted her and only her.

  It seemed as if he’d spent a lifetime around her, needing her as a friend, then as a lover. He’d dumped her because he was going pro, and he didn’t want anything to interfere with that. Yet in the back of his mind, he’d always believed he’d come back for her until that shit went down with her father.

  Now part of her had to blame him and Tyler. They couldn’t explain themselves because he would not destroy her image of her father. He couldn’t do that to her, so he took his lumps.

  Derek sat up and heaved a heavy sigh. His gaze slipped to the door. If Tyler would walk, probably stagger, through that door right now, he’d be rescued. He wouldn’t leave once his cousin showed up. But a half hour later, Tyler wasn’t back, and Derek was more keyed up than ever.

  He needed Rachel. He needed her body, her mind, her heart. Nothing else would be good enough. Being around her lifted a weight off his shoulders, made his step lighter, dissolved his troubles. Together, they could tackle insurmountable problems; apart they were weak and vulnerable.

  Shit.

  This kind of thinking led nowhere but to big-assed trouble with a capital T.

  He wasn’t strong enough to resist the siren’s call. Earlier, he’d made a point of finding out what room she was in by bribing the desk clerk. He’d sealed his fate at that point in time.

  Throwing on his sweats and a T-shirt, he shoved his room key in the pocket. He opened his door a crack, looking up and down the deserted hall. Hurrying to the bank of elevators several doors down, he punched the floor number for Rachel’s room. And waited.

  The fucking elevator was taking too long. That’d be his luck if he were stuck in it near her floor. He’d have to explain why he was going up instead of down.

  His momentary panic ended when the elevator softly stopped on her floor, and the doors slid open. He checked the hallway and hurried to her room, rapping lightly on the door while keeping an eye on his surroundings. He felt like James Bond breaking into a bad guy’s villa in France to steal some secret weapon that could destroy the world.

  The only thing he could destroy was both their careers, which to him was bad enough.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  There was a rap on Rachel’s hotel room door at eleven thirty at night. She had a good idea who it was. She’d been half expecting him and half dreading he might show up.

  She peered into the peephole. It was him, all right. He was fidgeting and glancing up and down the long hallway. The team was housed on a different floor, for which she was grateful, so the chances of his teammates catching him coming and going were nil. Regardless, she didn’t want to be caught by anyone.

  She opened the door, and he slipped inside. “Derek,” she hissed. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m not sure.” He rubbed his eyes and slumped down on the edge of her bed. “I can’t sleep.”

  “You can’t come here. Someone could see you.”

  “I was careful.” He brought his gaze up to meet hers. “We need to talk.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was talk. She’d much rather bury her head in the sand and forget about the unforgettable. Last Saturday night had been one for the ages. A smart girl would leave it at that, chalk it up as a night to remember, and move on. She worked with the guy. Saw him for hours almost every day. Moving on was hardly an option under those circumstances. And exactly what was she going to do if she was hired permanently?
Derek was solidifying a spot for himself on the team. If she was honest with herself, her long-term future as a Steelheads coach wasn’t exactly feasible as long as he played for them. Regardless, this job on her resume would attract other offers, especially if the team started winning.

  None of this mattered right now. What mattered was dealing with Derek in her hotel room. She should send him packing right back to his room immediately, but she didn’t.

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Us? What’s going on here?” He scrubbed his hands over his face as if that’d wipe out all his troubles.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t concentrate on anything. I’m a mess. I can’t sleep. I want what I can’t have. I had a taste, and now I want another bite.”

  “We can’t do this again. It was a big mistake in the first place. If HughJack found out—”

  “Trust me. I understand, and I’m racked with guilt about the situation, yet it doesn’t erase the fact that you’re the only one who seems to be able to fix me.”

  “You want me to take one for the team—again.”

  He nodded. Conflict was written in every line on his handsome face, and she sympathized. She suffered from the same conflicts.

  “I need you, Rae. For whatever reason, being with you makes my game so much better.” He sounded so earnest, so concerned, so unsure of himself and what he was doing her heart melted for him.

  “Derek, this is a bad idea.”

  “It was a bad idea a week ago, and that didn’t stop us.”

  “What if Tyler notices you’re gone?”

  “He’s not there. He and Cass broke up. He’s too busy partying his sorrows away.”

  “Yeah, Cass is doing the same. She moved in with me.”

  “That must be interesting.”