Play by Play (A Play Makers Novella) (4 page)

McDowell sent Hutch a disgusted look. “Yeah, Hutch, you walked right into that. Luckily, you’re a good sport, right?”

Hutch’s dark eyes narrowed. “You need to clear the set, Dublin. We’ve got the rest of the show to do.”

“I’m outta here.” Jake gave him a final, damning grin. “See you in the funny papers, Hutchison.”

Chapter Seven

By the time the doorbell rang that evening, Sophie was breathless with anticipation. Not only had she changed outfits six times, selected and reselected the background music, and second-guessed herself on what sort of beer, wine, or whatever to have on hand, she had decided at the last minute that the place looked too clean, and had tried to make things seem more casual by draping a sweater over one chair and placing a couple of perfectly clean glasses in the sink, only to realize that he might think she had just had company, so she put the glasses away and replaced them with three Mickey Mouse bowls.

Brilliant,
she teased herself.
Now he’ll think you have a bunch of kids you forgot to mention during your question-and-answer session in the park on Thursday
.

Of all the airhead moves she’d made since she met Jake, that interrogation was the one she most regretted. Asking his last name, okay. But demanding to know his occupation and then threatening to Google him? Bad form, especially when he had clearly wanted to take things to a more personal level for weeks now, and
she
was the one who insisted on discussing impersonal topics like gas prices and the electoral college.

Now as she moved toward the door, she had to laugh, remembering what a sport Jake had been about all that. And luckily, he seemed to have an opinion on
every
thing no matter how arcane or trite. He had even chatted for fifteen minutes about the JFK shooting—one gunman, communist conspiracy, Mafia ties?

Tonight would be different. Tonight she would let
him
take the lead, trusting that he’d never take advantage. He’d make this date special—fun and exciting and hot as hell. Why would she want to interfere with that?

Glancing one last time in the entryway mirror, she decided her skimpy sundress—royal blue and white like the old Colts uniforms—was the perfect complement for Jake’s amazing eyes.

Not that she cared about football, but still, when it came to color schemes, the Colts were her all-time favorite.

There’s just something about his scrumptious body that screams NFL,
she admitted to herself with a sheepish laugh.

Taking a deep breath, she threw open the door and smiled in heart-pounding welcome.

“Hi, Jake.”

“Hey.” He gave her a tentative smile but didn’t step into the apartment. “You look great.”

Something was wrong, impossible as that seemed. He looked good—great, in fact, in his tan slacks and black dress shirt—but he seemed subdued, which was crazy. Hadn’t he been badgering her for this date from the start?

“Are you okay?” she murmured.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He moved closer. “We need to talk, Sophie.”

She stared in dismay. “I didn’t Google you, I promise. I was just kidding—”

“Jeez, it’s nothing like that.” He cleared his throat, then rested his huge hands on her hips. “I just need to fill you in on some things.”

She licked her lips, reminding herself that she should probably share a little more about
her
background as well. “There’s a sports bar on the next block. Do you want to go there and talk for a while?”

“That dump’s too noisy. Plus, I want to take you someplace nice.”

“How about here?” She felt her cheeks warm and wondered if he noticed. If so, did he realize she was responding to his hands, not his words? In fact, she was barely listening anymore. All she cared about was the way he was touching her, and the fact that he didn’t want to go to a sports bar, even though NFL pre-season games would be plastered across the big screens.

“You mean, stay here?” he asked warily. “Not go out?”

“We could order in.” She stepped closer and gave him a hopeful smile. “You said we’re okay. And we’ve both been waiting, and you make me feel so . . . well, so wonderful.” She looped her arms around his neck. “I was thinking maybe we could kiss again, like we did at the end of that last jog, only this time you could kiss me back.”

The pensive fog in his eyes cleared, replaced by a grin of wonder. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.” Closing the door, he backed her against it and lowered his mouth to hers, tasting her like a fine wine, then devouring her like a rare steak.

“This dress is so cool,” he told her as he stripped one strap away, then nuzzled her naked shoulder and neck. “Should we move to the couch and get better acquainted?”

“Or the bedroom?” she asked, trying to not laugh at the amazement in his eyes. “I’m dying of curiosity, Jake. I’m not usually like this but . . .” She worked the buttons on his shirt, desperate to see the rock-hard abs that had been so enticingly evident through his jogging T-shirts.

Then she admitted, “I think about you—about
this
—all the time.”

“Yeah, me too.” Lifting her off the floor, he whisked her to the bedroom, tossed her on the bed, then finished undressing her between bouts of rabid kissing, nuzzling, and general inhaling. Then he stripped off his own clothes and got down to business with such playful confidence she found herself laughing out loud between appreciative gasps, first of delight, then disbelief as he rocked her into spasms of concentric pleasure.

• • •

“Jake . . .”

“Yeah, I know.” He gathered her damp body against himself before pulling up a light comforter from the foot of the bed. “Unbelievable. As in, I still don’t believe it.” Tilting her chin upward so he could look into her eyes, he asked her softly, “What triggered it?”

“You’ve been triggering me all week,” she admitted. “Longer, even. I just didn’t want to make a mistake. But I couldn’t hold out any longer. Plus”—she touched his cheek—“when you didn’t want to go to a sports bar, I just knew you were the perfect guy for me. At least for a while.”

“I didn’t want to go there because it’s noisy.”

“Exactly! Most guys would take the noise in a minute, just to be able to watch the game. But you actually wanted to
talk
to me. Really talk, really listen. I’m not used to that. Or rather—” she paused for a long, wistful sigh. “I’m not used to being more important than the stupid matchup du jour.”

“Huh?”

“I grew up in a house filled with jocks, and I dated a few in my time, and
ugh
—never again. Gamers too,” she added with unexpected vehemence. “I can’t handle the obsessions. I guess that’s how guys feel about women who shop too much. But good news—I’m too lazy to prowl the shopping malls so I keep all that to a minimum.”

Jake stared in horror as her indictment of “jocks” sunk in.

Never again
. . .

“So?” she asked, sitting and pulling the cover up to her neck. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Huh?”

“You said we needed to talk. I guess I should have let you say it then and there. But you were too adorable,” she assured him laughingly. “And now it’s too late. So if you’re married, we’ll
both
regret it. Because trust me, my jock family comes in handy at times like that.” When Jake just continued to stare, she added quickly, “I’m kidding. I know you’re not married. You’d never hit on me if you were. Right?”

“Right.” He sat up too, then faced her squarely. “I was married for six years, and I’ve been divorced for two. It was a bad marriage but not anyone’s fault. It went wrong quick, but like idiots, we kept trying to make it work. So . . . no, I’m not married.”

“And no girlfriend?”

“Only you.”

She smiled, then snuggled against him. “I can’t believe you were afraid to tell me that. About being married before, I mean. And just for the record, I had a semi-serious relationship too. In addition to the goofy jocks and gamers, there was a guy at my old law firm in San Diego. We started working there the same day, and I knew better than to get involved with a colleague, but it all evolved so innocently. And we kept monitoring it—making sure not to jeopardize business with pleasure. Then he did something crazy, which turned out to be the tip of the iceberg.”

“Crazy? What does
that
mean?” Jake’s fists instinctively clenched. “If he hit you—”

“No, no.” She stroked his cheek with her fingertips. “No hitting. Just some possessiveness that got out of hand.” She bit her lips. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. And like I said, my jock family comes in handy sometimes. So I’ll admit, Daniel—that’s his name—got a little pushy. But then my cousin gave him a concussion, so basically, we were even.”

“Pushy? What the hell does
that
mean?”

“It means I had bruised ribs for a week, and
please
, just settle down.” She kissed his tight jaw. “After that, Daniel kept begging me to give him another chance. That was the worst part, because I just wanted to crawl in a hole and pretend it never happened. But he was persistent, so I ended up quitting and moving up here.”

Jake forced himself to decompress even though he wanted, or rather needed, to drive to San Diego and give this asshole another concussion.

Luckily, Sophie’s cousin had taken care of that. Someday Jake would thank him, and then take over the official job of protecting her. But for now, he just gave her a hug. “That’s why you didn’t want to date a co-resident, right?”

“But luckily, you’re more of a transient than a resident.” She laughed with delight. “I loved that line, you know. I should have dragged you in here right then and there.”

“And miss our debate about the electoral college? That’s crazy talk.” Coaxing her back against the pillow, he trailed a line of kisses from her mouth to her breasts.

She laughed again, then slid down to face him. “Round two?”

“Man, you’re perfect. You know that?”

“
We’re
perfect. Together. Oh, Jake!” She roared with approval as he focused completely on her needs, conscious of his duty to his gender. They had wronged this female, and while the cousin had tried to set things straight, only a boyfriend could really handle that particular challenge.

Chapter Eight

Jake Dublin: THE OPINIONATED SPORTS GUY

August 14: Post-Weekend Report

If you caught my guest spot on
Hutchison’s War Room
, you know it turned ugly for a few seconds but ended on an upbeat note. Plus, I didn’t kick his ass, so let’s hear it for self-control. The rest of the panel was cool, and it’s Hutch’s job to get under the guest’s skin, so in that sense, he scored.

If you didn’t catch it, you’ll be interested to hear that Hutch called me out on my Elevator Girl stories. Yeah, a five-minute interview on a sports show, and he wants to waste time crapping on my love life. It didn’t go well for him, trust me.

As for the Elevator Girl saga, I’m gonna keep it brief, maybe even phase it out completely in the near future. I’d be wrapping it up even if some dickhead hadn’t come along to ruin it. But luckily, it’s not dead yet. So here we go.

Long story short, our first date was amazing. She’s officially the best thing that
ever
happened to me, and for the moment at least, she seems to share that sentiment. We had some pizza, watched some shows, and did some judicious necking on her living room couch. All PG rated for those of you keeping score at home.

As you know, I planned on telling her everything—last name, sportswriting, Elevator Girl transcripts—but she threw me a curve as follows (paraphrased):

EG
: Do you know what I like best about you?

Me
: My Adonis-like body?

EG
: No, silly. I like it that you’re not a sports enthusiast. Most guys would be glued to some stupid game right now, but here you are, paying attention to me. It’s one of the reasons I decided to give you a shot even though we live in the same building.

Yep, she actually said that to me. That she was glad I’m not “into sports.” God help me.

I wasn’t prepared for
that
. I had the confession drafted in my head, but it’s gonna need some serious revision. And the timing needs to be perfect too. Because I’m not willing to blow it with this girl. She’s too perfect. I might have to move out of the building and give up sports, but I’m hoping there’s some middle ground.

And since I haven’t given it up just yet, let’s talk sports for a while. The Niners barely squeaked past the Raiders for a 10–8 win. Both teams looked pretty rusty, which is to be expected. As for the Rustlers, they haven’t been around long enough to get rust-ly, but we definitely saw some growing pains there. Still, for those of you who made virtual bets in the comments, pay up by praising me.

Meanwhile, starting today, we’re going back to my standard NFL pattern: Mondays are for recaps; Wednesdays I’ll analyze a particular play of the week—bonehead or brilliant. Then on Friday, I’ll be arrogant enough to suggest a play or two that should be considered for an upcoming match.

And since it’s Monday . . .

Click
here
for more sports from Jake Dublin . . .

COMMENTS:

Tweetie Burred
:

Hutchison was an ass on that show. Made you look good for once.

The Opinionated Sports Guy
:

Thanks, babe. High praise coming from you.

New from SD
:

Hutch is an a**hole has-been, desperate for ratings. The guy should be grateful to you. Maybe you’ll have your own show someday and NOT invite him as a guest.