Game For Love: Love Games (Kindle Worlds) (13 page)

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d harbored the thought that one night with Declan might cure her of this attraction. That they would mutually combust, taking with them this affinity they felt for each other’s bodies. They’d combusted, all right. But instead of the flames burning themselves out, they only seemed to increase. At least for Marlee. She wouldn’t assume that Declan felt what she did, though it sure seemed like he did. And he had made definite plans to see her again, only if it was for business reasons.

Declan had nudged her awake very early in the morning.

“I need to go to the hotel and change. I’ve got to meet the insurance people and the contractor at my house at eight. I don’t know how long that will take, but I’ll come to the studio right after. I’ll bring us some lunch. I’m leaving my cell number on the dresser for you in case you need to get a hold of me before then. Do you have a way I can get a hold of you in the studio if my meetings run long?”

Marlee, barely audible, still nearly asleep, gave Declan her cell phone number, which he copied down and put in his jeans.

“Guess I’ll have a phone number in my pants today, won’t I. Man, do those women ever stop?”
 

Marlee moaned to show her acknowledgement of the joke and then showed Declan what she thought of his humor—by flipping him the bird. She flopped her arm back down; she hadn’t even raised her head or looked at Declan.
 

“Marlee Reeves, Ph.D., flipping me off. Unbelievable.” Declan chuckled, kissed the top of Marlee’s head, told her to go back to sleep, and quietly left her bedroom.

By one in the afternoon, Marlee felt confident that the suggestions Declan had made the day before would fit seamlessly into her lecture. She was also comfortable with the football terms, and that was key. Like Declan had said, people would spot a phony a mile off. He’d not only told her what would be appropriate, but explained exactly what each bit of jargon meant. That, coupled with the full-body demonstrations last night in bed, made her knowledge of the game almost passable. She made a final jot in her notes and then placed them in her bag. She was surprised Declan wasn’t there yet. Her stomach rumbled, as if to agree with her.

Her cell phone rang and she rummaged through her satchel to find it. Probably Declan canceling, she thought. Then she wondered why she had instinctively thought he’d be canceling? He’d seemed eager to see her later when he’d left her bed this morning, had even joked with her. And even if he was canceling, where was this insecurity of hers coming from?
 

But she knew exactly where it came from.
 

“Hello.”

“Marlee, it’s Declan.”
 

Just hearing his voice sent a tremble through her. She could close her eyes and hear that voice, low and gravelly, whispering in her ear, telling her when to come, as he’d done last night. She pulled herself away from her reverie and quickly tried to discern the tone of his voice. Business voice? A canceling voice? A last-night-was-great-but-you’re-not-as-good-as-the-thousands-of-women-I’ve-been-with-so-sayanora voice? Did she get any of that from his simple three words? It didn’t even occur to Marlee to temper her response to fit him, even if she could figure out his tone. She’d never learned to play the games that most women did, had thought they were asinine anyway.

“Hi, Declan.”

“Listen, I’m stuck here at my house. This is taking a lot longer than I thought. There’s more damage than anybody realized. I’m going to be here all afternoon, then I need to swing by the hotel and drop off the rest of my clothes for this week and the stuff I want to take to New York. I might as well take it all over there now, then I can leave the cleaning and repairs crew to it and not have to disturb them later in the week.”

“I’m sorry it was worse than you thought. How disappointing.”

“Yeah. So, lunch is obviously out. And it looks like I won’t get to the studio before five, so me working with the camera is out today too.”

Here it comes
, she thought.
Next he’ll tell you where he has to be tomorrow, so he can’t make it then, and that he’ll call.
Then that would be it—she’d never see him again.

Marlee’s spirits fell.
Buck up
, she told herself.
You wanted one night with Declan and you got it. You were just being greedy hoping for more.
He wasn’t the type to be with the same woman for any length of time. Apparently that length even applied to a week.
 

She steeled herself for what Declan would say next, how he would get out of seeing her again. At least she’d gotten the stuff she needed for her lecture. She should be happy with that. That and one night of incredible sex with Declan.

“Here’s what I’m thinking…Marlee, you still there?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I should be done around four. Why don’t I go do some grocery shopping, meet you at your place when you’re done, and cook you the best dinner you’ve ever had?”

The elation that ripped through Marlee scared her. She shouldn’t be that excited that Declan wanted to see her again. But she was. So much so that the next thing out of her mouth came as a complete shock to her.

“Declan, why don’t you stay with me this week, instead of a hotel?” She almost dropped her phone. Had she really just asked him to stay with her? Seconds ago she was waiting for a brush-off, and now she’d just invited Declan to be a guest in her home.
 

He’d probably received dozens of offers from the women who’d been at his house when he returned the night of the fire. He hadn’t taken any of them up on it—what made her think he would accept her offer. And did she really want him to accept?

Yes. The idea of waking up beside Declan every morning this week thrilled her.

Declan’s hesitation on the phone mirrored her doubts. She began mentally stammering, trying to figure out how to give Declan an out.

“Marlee…that would be great. That would help out a lot. I wasn’t looking forward to spending this week in a hotel when I’m going to be in one all of next week too. I get pretty sick of hotels by the end of the season.”

“Okay. So my house a little after five?”

“Deal. Are you sure you don’t mind me staying with you? Because the hotel’s fine, really.”

“I don’t mind. It makes sense. I’m only a few minutes from the studio, so you can easily get here when you want to work with the camera.”

“Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow. It’ll be Wednesday already and I need all the practice I can get before I leave.” His voice got low, and his drawl came back when he said, “There’s something else I want to get all I can of before I leave.”

“What?” But she knew what he would say. Hoped, anyway.

“You.” He hung up, leaving Marlee tingling and aroused and anticipating going home more than she had in years.

Declan hung up the phone and continued his packing. The destination—if not the content—of the suitcases had changed. For the better, right? In retrospect, Declan wasn’t sure. Marlee’s offer of hospitality had so surprised him that he’d agreed before he could really weigh out the consequences.
 

But the consequences shouldn’t be too serious. By making love last night and making her dinner tonight, Declan would already have invaded the two rooms Marlee probably most held dear. The two places that fed her body, anyway.
 

He’d received several offers of a place to stay this week, most from the women who were still at his house when he’d arrived Sunday night. But also some from his teammates. Declan didn’t want to take any of them up on their offers. He thought he should be alone this week, or if not alone, at least not someone’s guest. He’d hoped things would work out with Marlee, and he wanted to be able to come and go from her as he pleased.
 

This was now a double-edged sword. He was with Marlee, but he couldn’t very well come and go as he pleased, not when he was staying in her house and working with her during the days. Surprisingly, Declan didn’t panic at the thought. In fact, he kind of liked it, which was why he’d said yes to Marlee’s proposition so quickly.

Declan replayed their conversation in his mind. He wanted to be with her. In her home. Where she was comfortable.

Declan had seen Marlee’s pure adoration when she’d shown him the pictures of her nieces and nephews last night. The way she’d traced her nephew’s Styrofoam hook with a wistful smile on her face, as if she was right back in the moment, expecting to shield her eyes from the wayward appendage at any minute.

Declan had seen a softness in Marlee when she looked at those pictures. Not when they were in bed, though. There she had been passionate and responsive, but Declan didn’t fool himself into believing that what Marlee felt for him was real. None of the women Declan was ever with had real sentiment for him. How could they? They never took the time to get to know him. The man he was away from the gridiron.

And just who was that man? Did he even know? He was going to have a hell of a lot of time to figure it out. All the time in the world. Just him, alone with his thoughts, becoming a man devoid of football.

Well, not totally devoid. Not if he got this network gig.
 

His stomach lurched at the thought, as it did every time he allowed himself to dwell on it. If he didn’t get this, what would he do? He had enough money to last his entire lifetime. Had already set up trust funds for the educations of his nieces and nephews. Made sure the family farm would never be in need of anything, no matter how uncertain farming became. His mother was well taken care of. He’d bought her a condo in Florida for if she ever got tired of Ohio winters on the farm. Realistically, he could just sit back and hobby his way to old age.

There was a flaw with that plan. Other than cooking, Declan didn’t have many hobbies. He didn’t even get to do much cooking during the season. He ate at the football offices most nights. A salad or eggs in the screening room while he watched video. In the off-season, he was a voracious reader, but even then, hobbies would take second place to his physical regimen. He would still work out several hours a day. More, as he got older and his body was more susceptible to injury.
 

The game of football had consumed his whole life, and he was grateful for all it had brought him. Incredible highs and lows, a pride in his body and accomplishments, riches, but most importantly to Declan, the feeling you got when you were on a team.

There was nothing like it. Being a part of making something happen. Knowing if you didn’t do your best that the end result wasn’t going to be pretty. Chewing guys out when they messed up. Praising them when they did well. Being a part of a team was precious to Declan.
 

Down deep, that was what he knew he’d miss most. Not the game itself, but the meshing of guys from all walks of life to achieve a common goal. Maybe he’d get lucky and have that kind of atmosphere with a broadcasting job. After all, most of those guys were retired players too, they probably craved that feeling as well. Declan didn’t think you could achieve that level of camaraderie in a broadcasting booth, but he hoped it was possible. That thought alone kept him from falling into a deep despair over his retirement.

That was why working with Marlee in front of a camera was so important. He had given thousands of interviews during his career, both on camera and for the print media. But he had always either been on the field or in the locker room—in his element. Playing the role of sports hero. Most times he’d still been in his uniform, wearing it like a shield, only talking about the game and the team, never having to just be…Declan.

 
His agent had said they’d have professionals in New York to work with him, but he wanted to practice on his own first. He felt really comfortable with Marlee, assumed he still would even after they’d slept together, and he wanted her input. She obviously knew how to put a program together, and her ease in front of the camera yesterday was unmistakable.

She taught public speaking for a living, for Christ’s sake.

 
Declan wasn’t naive enough to believe that the networks would come calling on his reputation as one of the game’s best quarterbacks alone. He needed to be able to hold his own on camera, and he also had to look good. Looks played a part in broadcasting, that was not to be denied. Why would ESPN put Kirk Herbstreit in blue shirts every week if not to capitalize on his baby blues?
 

Declan hadn’t noticed until a woman had pointed it out to him, and, sure enough, the blond, blue-eyed former quarterback was seldom on air when he wasn’t wearing a crisp dark blue shirt under his sports coat. Kirk was a former Ohio State quarterback too—maybe Declan should give him a call and get some inside scoop on this whole audition process.

He thought he could hold his own with the pretty boys of sports broadcasting. He wasn’t vain, but knew he was considered a good-looking guy. The thought was hard to escape when he was approached several times throughout his career to do a beefcake calendar, or other endorsements. He always said no. Maybe he should have done a few of those things, so at least now it wouldn’t all be so foreign to him. Maybe if he had he’d feel as comfortable at all this as Marlee seemed to.

Declan didn’t delude himself that it was all Marlee’s delivery and content that made her such a riveting speaker. Just to watch her was a pleasure. Her poise, her confidence that showed through when she spoke were obvious. Classy. Declan thought the word was overused, but it definitely fit Marlee. Maybe he was so drawn to her because there was a definite lack of classy women in Declan’s circle. Whatever. He thought she was classy, and a great speaker, and he was spending the week at her house, the nights in her bed.