Play Date (Play Makers Book 3) (26 page)

It was short and sassy—not even covering to mid-thigh—with layers of pink and lavender ruffles. The matching rayon top was a loose-fitting tank, also pink, and showing off Kerrie’s ample breasts to perfection.

“It’s pretty,” Rachel admitted. “And sexy.”

“It’s a lap-dance dress,” Kerrie agreed. “Can you imagine Sean’s reaction?”

Rachel laughed, then noticed something else on the rack—the same outfit, but black instead of sherbet. “Try this one,” she urged. “It’s a little more subtle.”

“Who wants subtle?”

“My guess is, Sean might.”

“I’m not giving him the lap dance in
public,
Rachel. It’s a motel room. Plus, he loves me in pink. He said so.”

“Fine,” Rachel told her in disgust. “Just keep digging that hole. I’m not going to stop you.”

Kerrie gave her a hopeful smile. “If we end up flying to Vegas this week, will you come too? I want you for my maid of honor.”

“Kerrie—”

“Just say yes. Although . . .” She scowled. “He might want Bam Bannerman for his best man. So that’ll be awkward.”

Rachel shook her head, wondering what Kerrie would think if she knew that part would be the
good
part.

“Do you think Bam will try to talk him out of it? Just because
he
doesn’t believe in monogamy?”

Rachel sighed. She wasn’t sure this actually qualified as monogamy. More like transitional bigamy. And yes, she was sure the halfback would try to talk Sean out of it. Coz was their coach, so it wasn’t just about marrying a married woman. It was about marrying
the
married woman.

“You’ve got that killjoy look in your eyes again,” Kerrie complained. Then she surprised Rachel by hugging her effusively.

“What’s that for?” she asked, feeling unworthy as she wriggled free.

“For looking out for me. And for Sean. But trust me . . .” Kerrie’s eyes burned with determination. “We’ll make each other happy. That’s all that really counts, right?”

“You’re not going to solve anything with a lap dance,” Rachel told her with a glare. Then she admitted, “It can’t hurt though. So let’s see what happens. Then we’ll talk again next week.”

“I can’t make it next week,” Kerrie said quietly. “I’ll either be in Florida for an NFL fund-raiser or in Vegas with Sean. If it’s Vegas, you’ll meet us there, won’t you? We’ll pay all your expenses, of course. I’ll even get Rafa to drive you if you want.”

Unwilling to explain yet again that Kerrie couldn’t get a divorce that quickly in Vegas, Rachel just nodded. “Keep me informed. And either way, we need to tell Sean we know each other. Please?”

“We’ll see,” Kerrie said with a teasing smile. “So keep your fingers crossed.”

It wasn’t the answer Rachel wanted. But did she really want to help Sean Decker make this decision? She barely knew him, and he had apparently shed his inhibitions completely.

For a nice guy—not to mention a hunk—he really was a pain in the ass.

• • •

She was cutting up cucumbers and tomatoes for a light dinner when the phone rang. As always, she hoped it was Bannerman. As always, it was not.

“Rachel?” a pretty voice said cheerfully. “It’s Sophie James.”

“Wow, this is a surprise,” Rachel told her warmly. “What’s up?”

“It’s your official save-the-date call. For my wedding.”

“Oh! How cool.”

“I almost waited until Wednesday so I could prank you,” the bride-to-be admitted slyly.

“Pardon?”

She laughed. “It’s April Fool’s Day on Wednesday. I thought about pretending we were inviting Wyatt Bourne too. But I didn’t want to get you too lathered up.”

Rachel grimaced at the phone. April Fool’s was her least favorite day of the year, especially when it fell on a school day. “I’m glad you didn’t fool me,” she admitted. “And I definitely would have gotten excited. A wedding
and
the Surgeon? Yum.”

“Down, girl.” Sophie’s voice warmed. “We all want you to come with Sean Decker. Since we all want you to
marry
Sean Decker. But to be clear, this invitation is for you and the guy of your choice. Except the Surgeon, obviously, because we don’t want a rumble.”

“That’s sweet of you. To invite me, I mean. I know you’re trying to keep it small—”

“Please come, Rachel? You’re not just Beth’s friend—or everyone’s favorite blind date—anymore. You’re
our
friend now, too. We want you there, with or without Deck.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Rachel assured her, even though the logistics were beginning to look complicated. “Are you still having it in May? At the beach?”

“Pajaro Dunes on the third Saturday. Jake has a place there, and Beth and Jason are renting a beach house for the five of them, plus my uncle, so you can stay with them. I heard you babysat my nephews and survived, so hopefully it won’t be too bad.”

“They were great.”

“Liar,” she said with a laugh. “I never babysit all four at once, and never
ever
at Jayce’s house. I bring a couple at a time to my apartment and set them up with food and video games, and it works out pretty well. But you can’t give them home field advantage.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rachel assured her.

“Promise me you’ll come? Jake wants to get to know you better, so wear something ugly. Not that mermaid dress.”

“Ugh, remind me to strangle Sean.” She gave a sheepish laugh. “I’ll be there. But I can’t make any promises about my date. Including Wyatt Bourne.”

“Well, we’d top Johnny’s wedding if that happened. So bring it on.” Her tone turned brisk. “Beth gave me your details so you’ll be getting the invite in the mail next week.”

“Thanks so much for including me, Sophie,” she said sincerely, then they ended the call.

“The third Saturday in May,” she mused aloud as she finished cutting up vegetables. “That means Sean will be inviting you on the third
Friday
in May, right?”

If only he could invite Kerrie. It would be a small group, no reporters, all friends. Wouldn’t that be a gentle way to break it to everyone? But bringing the coach’s wife was more scandalous than bringing Wyatt Bourne. Even if Kerrie could file for divorce right away and have it finalized by mid-May, it would still cause a stir.

And she wouldn’t file anyway because she didn’t want to date. Or more precisely, didn’t want to be single. She wanted a smooth, quick transition from one husband to the next. Sometimes it almost seemed reasonable, but at moments like this, Rachel knew it couldn’t work that way. Not if Sean wanted to keep his standing in the football community. With his team. With his friends.

With the QB and Erica. And Bannerman. They would all go nuts if they heard about this.

But they have to hear about it sometime, don’t they?

Her chest tightened, imagining Sean sneaking around with a married woman for the rest of his life. Of all the guys she had ever known, he was the least likely to survive that sort of thing. It would eat him up. Destroy that adorable, optimistic glow.

Kerrie could handle it because she was a dreamer. A head-in-the-clouds romantic who could rationalize anything if her heart asked her to do so.

“You need to get tough on her this Sunday,” she decided, then she remembered Kerrie would be in Florida for a fund-raiser. And as guilty as she felt for thinking it, she decided that might be a good thing. Put some distance between the two philanderers. Right now, it was so easy—and exciting—to meet for illicit trysts several times a week.

This separation will light a fire under them,
she decided, nodding despite the underlying angst. Sean and Kerrie—it was destiny, wasn’t it? All they needed was a good friend like Rachel to cheer them on, a good therapist to bring them down to earth, and a really,
really
good lawyer.

• • •

For once, Sean arrived at the motel before Kerrie did. And to his shame, he hoped she wouldn’t make it at all. Maybe she had left early for her trip to Florida. After that, she’d be gone for ten whole days, which worked perfectly for him.

Because this was insanity.

Lusting after her from afar had been so hot. Better than all the sex with all the team groupies who had mobbed him over his career. All those eager girls in high school, in college, in bars and at games. They all wanted to make Sean Decker, future Hall of Famer, happy in bed.

And he
had
been happy, appreciating each of them, or at least trying to. Even though they blurred together sometimes. All he knew for sure was he was a one-woman guy. He just needed to find that one woman.

Kerrie was cute, sweet, vulnerable, and crazy in bed. Who could ask for a better wife? She needed him. And he needed her. He was tired of being alone, and the idea he could have someone like her set his imagination on fire.

But could he actually have her? Or would they sneak around forever? It would kill him, but given her insistence that she stay married to Coz until the day she married Sean, they might just go in circles forever.

Through a gap in the drapes he saw her Audi pull into the parking lot. Then she jumped out and he groaned in awed amusement. She was so hot. So full of hope. Straightening her lightweight raincoat. Fixing a sexy stare on the door to room 108—her amorous destination.

Even a casual bystander could see she was in love. Better still, she was blazing hot for Sean. She would do anything for him, in bed or out. Have an affair with him? Absolutely. Marry him? She was more than ready.

And he was
almost
ready. He just needed to convince her to become her own person. A single woman. And then he’d date her. Get to know her. Try to build a future with her.

And then, if it meant leaving his NFL career behind? He could do so, secure in the knowledge that as much as he loved football, he loved this woman more.

Determined to try one last time, he opened the door, pulled her into his arms, and gave her a warm kiss. Then he said hopefully, “Wouldn’t it be more fun if we could meet at a restaurant? Or go dancing? Even go for ice cream or to the movies? I want to do those things with you, Kerrie.”

“I want to do those things too,” she assured him with a teasing smile, “but there are some things we can only do in private.”

“Huh?”

She stepped into the middle of the room and discarded her raincoat, revealing the hottest dress ever. So hot his breathing was instantly labored. The sassy ruffled skirt barely covered her gorgeous ass, and since she wasn’t wearing a bra, he had a feeling she hadn’t bothered with panties either.

“I know how much you love to talk. But I spotted this outfit, and I thought to myself,
Sean would love it.”

“You thought right,” he admitted, his throat completely parched.

“I don’t want to sidetrack you. So maybe we could just kiss for a few minutes? I could sit on your lap. And you could whisper in my ear. Tell me how much you love me.”

He nodded and reached for her, but she pulled away and asked impishly, “You
do
love me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I effing love you. Like crazy.”

“Oh, Sean.” She knelt to unzip his pants, pulling them to the ground along with his boxers. Then she gave him a playful shove toward a chair. “Five minutes,” she cooed. “Then we’ll talk. I promise.”

“Five minutes,” he agreed, his smile dazed. “I’m pretty sure that’s all I’ll need.”

• • •

When a calendar alert made Rachel’s phone buzz on Wednesday morning at seven, warning her it was April Fool’s Day, she abandoned her half-awake fantasy of Bannerman and resigned herself to the stupidest holiday of the year.

Vince probably loves it,
she told herself groggily.
Jokes are his life, right?

Like a cosmic reply, an obnoxious beep-beep-beep sounded from the far side of the house. Like a bulldozer backing up, but unless a neighbor was building a pool, that didn’t make sense.

Oh, God, is he having a load of manure delivered?

It would be just like him, wouldn’t it? So she ran through the house and peeked through the kitchen window to see a flatbed truck carrying a tree in a wooden crate. And not just any tree. For one thing, it was big, probably at least eight feet tall. Maybe ten. And for another, it was covered with scarlet buds and delicate orange trumpets.

A pomegranate.

Stunned, she grabbed an oversized sweatshirt from a nearby hook and pulled it over her tank top and sleeping shorts, then hurried out to the driveway.

“Good morning,” the driver said cheerfully. “He said just put it on the grass near the garage, right?”

“Oh, my gosh, it’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah, it’s a good one. We’ll be out of your hair in five minutes, I promise.”

“Wait. Let me get my purse.”

He raised a palm to stop her. “It’s all taken care of.”

She stared up at the tree, mesmerized. She hadn’t had the extra money to make any real improvements to this place beyond a coat of paint, a rose bush, and a vegetable garden. But this? This was substantial. Majestic, really. And so thoughtful of him, she almost didn’t know what to think.

She loved this house. This yard. This home. Now she knew she would stay here forever. Because she was physically laying down roots. Her children would love the place too. Sure they would squawk about sharing the second bedroom, but they would have the beach, and fresh vegetables, and now fresh pomegranates. It would be an idyllic childhood, just like the one Rachel herself had almost had.

The two deliverymen were scrupulously careful as they unloaded the crate onto a wheeled platform and moved it to the side of the garage, where they unloaded it again. She thanked them effusively but couldn’t wait for them to leave. It would be embarrassing for anyone to see her hugging the tree, but she couldn’t hold back much longer.

Now that she could judge more accurately, she knew it would be at least ten feet tall when planted. Smaller by far than the dead walnut, but still, an instant part of the landscape. Despite its bushy nature it had been pruned into a classic tree shape, so she jumped into the crate with it, knelt on the dirt, and hugged the trunk with whimsical affection.