Authors: Desiree Holt
Stacy dropped her gaze to her lap.
“I want—” She shook her head. “Never mind.”
Max leaned his elbows on his knees.
“What would you really like here, Stacy? Another man in your life? Someone to
make Kurt jealous? Make him realize what he’s thrown away so he’ll come
crawling back to you? Someone you can show off to the females you work with?”
Was that what she wanted?
Stacy nodded. “Yes. Like that. Sort
of. Let him—all of them—see what they’re missing.” She chuffed a laugh. “And I
want a really hot date for the Valentine’s party.”
“Clue me in on the party you keep
talking about.”
“The publisher hosts one every year
for everyone on the editorial staff and in the marketing and sales departments.
For five years, I’ve always been on the downside of a breakup. My so-called
dates have usually been someone I coerced into going with me, or else I went
alone.” She glanced down in her lap. “Three of the women on the staff recently
got engaged, and two more are in the middle of planning their weddings. One
time—
one time
—I want someone to say, ‘Wow! Look who Stacy showed up
with.’”
“That’s what you want.”
“Uh huh. Oh, and preferably a guy
who’ll romance me for a week or so leading up to it, so the office gossips will
be full of jealousy rather than pity.”
“Romance you,” he repeated. “Take
you to the party.”
“Yes. See? I told you it was
stupid. “ She rubbed her forehead.” Forget I even brought it up.”
“No, no, no. Not forgetting
anything.” Max picked up his bottle, drained the rest of his beer, set it back
down. “Okay, then. I’ve got a suggestion.”
I have to be out of my fucking
mind.
Max studied the woman across from
him and wondered what level of insanity prompted him to speak so freely.
Putting his hand in a vat of boiling water might cause less distress, yet he
couldn’t seem to stop himself.
His very well-kept secret was he’d
wanted Stacy Halligan from the day she moved in next door to him. His first
glimpse of her—trim figure clad in cutoffs hugging a very sweet ass, a ragged
University of Michigan T-shirt, thick auburn hair pulled back in a messy
ponytail, kissable lips in a face free of makeup that he sure didn’t think it
needed.
Even then, she’d had attitude. The
movers carried in the heavy pieces for her, but she seemed determined to haul
the stuff from her car herself, refusing help when the movers offered. The day
was hot and within an hour she’d sweated through that T-shirt, her nipples like
sweet cherries nudging the soft fabric. And every time she bent over to get
another armful from the trunk or the back seat, those shorts outlined every
inch of her delectable ass.
He could have hidden in his condo.
However, curiosity got the better of him. So, he pulled his car out of the
garage and proceeded to wash it in the heat of the day, despite the inevitable
water-spotting. It gave him a chance to watch her, and also allowed him to hide
behind the vehicle to disguise the painful erection poking at his jeans.
Finally, he couldn’t stand it
anymore. Waiting until the last of the boxes and bags and suitcases were in her
place, he grabbed two bottles of beer from his fridge and carried them over
there. She opened the door, her face set in a fierce frown. He’d never met a
woman with quite so much attitude, and he wondered where the hell it came from.
For a moment, he thought she might send him away. But he held up the beer and
offered a hopeful smile. “Hi, I’m the welcome wagon.”
Then her eyes lit on the beer and her
tight mouth relaxed into a rueful grin. “I sure could use one of those—moving
day is always a bear.”
Not that Max didn’t have plenty of
women in his life. Even as a backup on the team, he was sought after by the
football groupies. Plus, all his friends who were coupled kept trying to fix
him up. He played it casually, never indicating a situation was anything but
relaxed and fun. He had yet to find a woman he wanted to see more than three or
four times, and certainly not one he considered making a part of his life.
Then Stacy marched into his life,
and he’d been hooked ever since.
He struggled with being her friend
when he wanted to rip her clothes off, drag her into his bed, and tell her how
he felt. Especially since, from their conversations, she considered him a
friend, no more, so he took what he could get. Only it burned his ass the way
she constantly chose—okay, her word—
assholes
who didn’t treat her the
way he thought they should.
Three years later, he remained in
the first quarter, except here was a chance to revise the game plan. He would
have to do it very carefully, like the field general he was.
“Max?”
Stacy’s voice penetrated his mental
fog, startling him.
“Your suggestion?” she reminded
him. “Although you’ve been looking at me like I have grease on my face or
something, so I’m not sure I want to hear it.”
He cleared his throat. “Got any
more beer?”
She waved a hand toward the
kitchen. “Help yourself. And bring me one, too.”
He frowned. “Really? You’ve been
sucking down that wine, and I don’t think they go together too well.”
“Who are you, my mother?” she
snapped.
“Not hardly,” he said in a soft
voice. “I’m your very good friend.” And then so low he half-hoped she didn’t
hear it, “And maybe even a little more than that.”
When they were each holding
ice-cold ones, he sat down, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, and took a
long swallow of the cool, fortifying liquid. If she said no to his suggestion,
he was shit out of luck. All the way around.
“I have a game plan to propose.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “Oh? Well,
give.”
Another swallow. Jesus, he wasn’t
this nervous even before a kickoff.
“What if we pretend to be a couple?
I could be the guy who sweeps you off your feet. Sends you chocolates and
flowers.” When her eyes flew wide, he hurried on. “Just hear me out. Not to
brag or anything, but I
am
the Warriors’ number one backup quarterback.
I get my share of publicity. Women tell me I’m not bad looking. I know not to
wipe my nose with my hand, and I always wear clean clothes. I’ve been told I have
a high profile in the hot guy department.”
She gaped at him.
“I can certainly do the whole
Valentine’s schtick you mentioned before,” he continued. “You know, come to
your office to pick you up for lunch. Send flowers and gifts. Give you a little
squeeze and a peck so word gets back to the asshole. And anyone else who needs
an attitude adjustment.”
He waited for her to make a
comment. Why didn’t she say anything?
“Well?” His nerves were doing a
jitterbug. Had he blown his chance with her? “What do you think? We could make
it work.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you hate the idea.”
“Um, no.” Finally, she snapped out
of her trance. “No, I don’t hate it.”
“Then what’s with the funny
expression on your face?”
She gave an unsteady chuckle. “I’m
stunned you would make such an offer. For me. Like this.”
“Hey.” He tried to smooth his
features. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
“Don’t you have your own women to
romance? Do all the romance crap with? I’d hate for some jealous female to show
up and scratch my eyes out.”
“No.” He shrugged. “No one
special.”
“And what about all the stuff the
Warriors always do over holidays? For instance, I happen to know the owner and
his wife have a huge party every year. Remember, we did a story about it last
year?”
“One night. Big deal. When’s your
shindig?”
“On Valentine’s Day itself. A week
from Saturday.”
“Well, there you are.” He leaned
back and took a calming sip of his beer. “The Warriors party is on Friday
night. No conflict. Anyway, all I have to do is put in an appearance there then
split.” His eyes lit up. “Hey! Why don’t you come with?”
Stacy frowned. “Get real. I don’t
fit in with that crowd. I refuse to wear a barely-there cocktail dress, flaunt
my boobs, and trowel on enough makeup to pave a sidewalk.”
Max laughed. “I should be insulted,
you know. Don’t you think I have better taste than that? Besides, there are a
lot of really nice women at these parties. Wives, fiancées. Like that. So does
that mean you won’t be my date?”
“I think Saturday night will be
enough obligatory duty for you. Thanks anyway, though.”
“You know I mean the invitation,”
he insisted.
“And I appreciate it.” She chewed
her thumbnail again. “You know this will get in the papers. The starting
quarterback has been hurt so often, you’ve played in a bunch of games the past
season. It certainly elevated your profile. The media will sniff out what’s
happening and be all over it like white on rice.”
He laughed. “I’ll have a hotshot
writer on my arm. And a gorgeous one at that. Besides, it will be a big improvement
over the women they usually pair me up with.”
“Hah!” she snorted. “As if.”
“Whatever.” How could he tell her
no woman measured up to her in his mind? She’d never believe him. At least, not
right now. “We’ll put on a good show and have some fun doing it, right?” He
waited another heartbeat. “So, what’s the answer? Shall we do it?”
“Uh, well, okay. If you’re positive
you want to.” She grinned at him. “There’s going to be gossip for sure.
Everyone will be stunned that a handsome stud like you has scooped me up.”
“Stacy.” His voice sobered. “You
sell yourself way too short in that department. I keep telling you, you’re—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she spat. “All
those things you said. So, how do we go about it? When do we start?”
“Tomorrow’s good for me, if it
works for you. It’s Monday, and we have almost two full weeks until Valentine’s
Day. By then, we’ll have the jerk begging you to take him back. How about if I
pick you up for lunch?” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth, objection
written all over her face. “No, you’re not meeting me at the restaurant. The
plan only works if we do it where everyone can see us. Right?”
“Uh, right. Okay. Wow!” She took a
sip of beer. “This will be an eye opener for everyone.”
“Which is exactly what it’s
supposed to be.” He set his empty bottle aside and stood up. “I should probably
let you get to sleep so you can be bright-eyed and sharp tomorrow.”
“So I can play my part.” She
nodded.
“Absolutely.”
But I won’t be
playing at all. For me, it will be real.
“Thanks again, Max,” she told him
as she walked him to the door.
“My pleasure, sweet lady.” He
turned and put his hands on her shoulders. “I probably will kiss you when I
come to get you tomorrow, so maybe we should have a couple of practice ones.
You know, so we can get it right.”
“K-kiss?” She swallowed hard.
“P-Practice?”
”Sure.” He grinned. “It’s easy. Let
me show you.”
Arms around her, he cupped her head
in one hand. Expecting he’d have to take his time, coax her into it, he brushed
his lips over hers very slowly and carefully. At first, she stiffened, but he
kept her in a light embrace and continued to tease at her mouth. Then he
pressed a little harder before running the tip of his tongue across the seam of
her lips. He didn’t know what he expected. It certainly wasn’t the jolt of
electricity that singed its way through his body.
When she opened for him with a
sigh, his tongue slipped inside. Nothing he had imagined even came close to the
hot sizzle of the kiss, to the explosive connection between them.
Jesus!
His cock hardened, butting against her thigh. Lucky for him, she didn’t try to
pull away. He couldn’t have backed off if his life depended on it. The taste of
her mouth was so sweet, her tongue like liquid velvet. Unexpectedly, she slid
it across his and joined him in a sensual dance.
He wanted to keep at it all night.
This, and a lot more. But some remnant of his brain told him not to push the
issue. With more control than he thought he had, he lifted his mouth from hers
and eased his hold on her. He had to swallow a smile at her stunned expression.
“Yeah, I think this will work okay.
Don’t you?”
She nodded, touching her lips with
the tips of her fingers.
“Okay, then. Lunch, tomorrow. I’ll
be at your office at twelve-thirty. Oh, and wear something sexy.”
He could almost feel her eyes
boring into his back as he walked away.
Tomorrow was the kickoff.
He had one chance to let Stacy know
how he felt about her. If his plan worked, maybe they could finally have the
relationship he’d been dreaming about. But as he walked next door to his own
place, two questions rattled around in his brain. How would he get to sleep
tonight with a shaft hard enough to pound nails? And how could he keep their
little charade from blowing up in his face?
Stacy frowned at the disheveled
pile of clothes on her bed. She had already chosen and discarded four different
outfits. What did one wear to lunch, anyway, with a very sexy guy who pretended
to be
your
guy to raise your hot babe quotient? All the outfits were
somehow wrong: too fussy, too plain, too businesslike—
What the hell? I
am
in business—
or too casual.
Why couldn’t she simply pull some
kind of ensemble together today without all the dithering?
Because Max, the devil, had said,
“Wear something sexy.”
Max. The man whose goodnight kiss
had left her wanting to get naked with him and leap onto his cock. The thought
startled her so she nearly dropped the clothes she held. Then another thought
hit her.
And wouldn’t that just shock the
hell out of him?