The Quarterback Sneak (2 page)

“P
ut me down!” The
ignoramus carrying her didn’t comply. Hayden wasn’t sure if Liam
McQueen was simply ignoring her, or if he couldn’t hear her over
the blaring music in the main area of the bar. She screamed again
and wiggled her body, beating her fists against his back.

This earned her a hard smack on the ass.
Oh!
Rather than offend her, the sting sent tingles of
pleasure straight to her so-not-a-lady parts. This wasn’t
happening. Hayden Middleton was not being carried through the
upscale Martini Madness Lounge like a sack of jiggling potatoes.
And she was not enjoying it.
Well, maybe a little.

As Liam stepped outside, the warm night
breeze whooshed up her dress, causing the tingles to intensify. The
paparazzi’s flashbulbs lit up like a night at the Oscars. Her
father was going to kill her. At least she was wearing panties.
Screaming at Liam now would only create a bigger scene, so she
remained silent.

A loud pop sounded.
Gunfire?
Then
another pop.
Holy shit, definitely gunfire!

Liam broke into a run, and her stomach
bounced up and down on his shoulder, until he placed his large firm
hand on her ass to steady her. She imagined him reaching up beneath
her skirt with those talented fingers. Now she wiggled for a
different reason.

“Saving the princess, McQueen?”

“Someone has to,” Liam answered.

Upside down, she couldn’t see which of her
father’s players waited for them near Liam’s Hummer. Her fat ass
must have slowed him down considerably.

“Now will you put me down?” she demanded.
She was no lightweight. And as much as the quarterback irritated
her, she didn’t want him to throw out his back. Yet, another thing
for her father to blame her for.

Liam set her down and buzzed the locks open.
“Everyone, get in.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. If the
judge found out she’d been anywhere near a gun—never mind an active
shooting—her probation could be revoked. And Hayden wouldn’t be
caught dead in a prison jumpsuit. In her world, orange was
not
the new black.

She took the front seat beside Liam while
the other three—Hondo, Murphy, and Moore—squashed into the back. A
bit of guilt nipped at her conscience, but they were used to being
in close contact, in the huddle or on the line protecting Liam.
Besides, her ass was probably as big as any of theirs.

“Buckle up,” Liam said.

She rolled her eyes, but complied. “Okay,
Boy Scout.”

“Maybe,” Liam said tightly as he screeched
away from the curb, “if you were more of a Girl Scout, then we
wouldn’t be in this predicament.” The two cop cars speeding by in
the opposite direction wailed, punctuating his point.

He was, of course, referring to her many
run-ins with the law and authority figures in general. That didn’t
mean she had to like what he said. “Did I say Boy Scout? I meant
Dad.”

A couple of laughs sounded from the
backseat.

Hondo, the Cougars’ center, leaned forward.
“Excuse me for interrupting this amusing foreplay, but what the
fuck is going on?”

“Hey, there’s a lady present.” Liam peered
at the rearview mirror.

Hearing snorts from the back, Hayden shot
the three linemen a nasty side-glance. Then she turned to Liam.
“But really, what the fuck
is
going on?”

“You’d know better than me. All I saw was
the runt of the litter reaching for a gun. Knew we had to get out
of Dodge, so to speak.”

The runt would be her brother’s idiot
friend, Franko. What was he doing with a gun? She knew the guy had
a Napoleon complex, but a gun?

“Okay, so where to now? Another bar?” Hondo
asked.

“Good idea, Honcho,” Hayden said.

“It’s Hondo.”

“Whatever.” Since the embarrassment of her
father banning her from the owner’s box last year, she pretended
she didn’t know all the names of the players, acting as if they
were as interchangeable as her shoes. But in fact, she knew every
name, every stat.

“I think we’ve had enough excitement for one
night,” Liam said.

“Okay, Dad.” Raucous laughter followed
Murphy’s jibe.

Hayden couldn’t suppress a giggle. She
peeked over at Liam as he concentrated on the pothole-infested New
York City streets. The QB was definitely not interchangeable. The
lights from the dashboard shone off his wavy reddish-brown hair,
and his eyes sparkled like her favorite chocolate-diamond
necklace.

Her gaze traveled down his body. He was more
farm-strong than weight-room bulky. Unlike the typical tall and
lean quarterback type, he had the frame of a tight end, still tall,
but all solid, thick muscle with corded forearms and biceps meant
for baling hay. And for throwing wayward heiresses over his
shoulder.

“What?” Liam asked, leveling a gaze her
way.

Caught staring, she stumbled over a
question. “So what bar is it going to be?”

“I’m taking you home.”

She looked out the window to see that he was
indeed heading to her place along Central Park. “Are you crazy? The
paparazzi will be swarming my building.”

“Too soon. There’s no way word got out
yet.”

“Oh, they’ll be there. And your caveman
tactics will be on the front page of all the morning papers.”

“A caveman would’ve dragged you out by your
hair.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “I much preferred my way.”

Heat bloomed in her cheeks as catcalls and
whistles sounded from the backseat. She couldn’t remember the last
time she’d blushed.

The Hummer approached her building and, as
she expected, a crowd of the usual paparazzi-suspects lay in wait.
She should have moved after her reality show ended. Everyone knew
where she lived, including Liam.
Hmmm.
Had he watched
Hayden’s Place
?

“How the heck did they find out so fast?” he
muttered.

Hayden snorted. “The bloodsuckers have a
network that the NSA would envy.”

He turned his head and smiled at her. Not a
wicked grin or a challenging smirk, but a genuine smile.

Her body felt like she’d taken a shot of
tequila. Shock and then a nice warm feeling. Considering she hadn’t
had a drink in six months, it was a welcome substitute. She had to
be sure she didn’t become addicted to the feeling. The sooner Liam
dropped her off somewhere, the better. She’d made enough poor
decisions that landed her in the press. She didn’t need to make
another one with her father’s quarterback.

Not that she didn’t crave the limelight like
an attention-starved child. But for once, she’d like to be in the
news for something positive. The charity work she did meant squat.
The media wasn’t interested in the good Hayden Middleton, and
neither were men.

“Drop us off at Chancey’s,” Moore said.
“It’s only a few blocks over.”

Liam sighed. “Promise you’ll call the car
service the team provides?”

Moore lifted four fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Another round of laughter filled the Hummer.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Liam held up three
fingers, but then put his thumb and pinkie finger together.

Hayden’s eyes widened. “You really were a
Boy Scout?

“Eagle Scout.” He pulled up to the curb by
Chancey’s awning and velvet rope. His gaze swept her body. “But
that was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, well, I was a Brownie for two
seconds.” She flirted back, knowing he was harmless.

“Two whole seconds?” he said with another
glance her way.

Harmless?
She sucked in a breath as
the full effect of Liam’s smile devastated her insides. Lucky for
her, he was now busy with the guys. The players filed out of the
back, ribbing him with vulgar comments.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Hondo
said as the final jab.

Liam shook his head. “You wouldn’t even know
what to do.”

She laughed, but the smile died on her lips
as Liam turned back to her. “Where to, princess?”

The way he said the last word made it sound
more like a term of endearment than a dig at her pedigree. Maybe
he’d dropped off the boys because he wanted to be alone with
her?

“Do you want me to drive you to your
father’s place?”

The mention of her father jolted her out of
her misguided fantasies. “Good God, no. Take me to a hotel.”

“I’m not leaving you at some random hotel.
It’s not safe.”

Hayden considered telling him that the Ritz
was right down the street, but she sort of liked this side of him.
Dare she admit she liked being rescued? Wrapped in the cocoon of
the car, she watched his profile as he drove, feeling safe and
protected from the world. Probably some primitive gene left over
from the Paleolithic age, like storing fat. A gene she had in
spades. Though Liam didn’t seem to have a problem with hefting her
over his shoulder.

“What about I take you to one of your
friends’ places?” he asked.

She checked her phone. Not one of them had
answered her texts to see if they were all okay. Then again, they
were probably in too much trouble with the cops to worry about her.
Not that any of them
ever
seemed to worry about her. “You
mean my fake friends?”

“I know what that’s like.”

Hayden bet he did. You didn’t find out who
your real friends were until there was nothing left to take. Who’d
been there for Liam when he reached rock bottom? She’d seen the
reports on TMZ and ESPN. Las Vegas debauchery spiraling downward
ending with those awful photos of him in a hotel room with an empty
bottle of whiskey and supposedly nothing left except the clothes on
his back. Six months of rehab followed, along with his rededication
to his Christian faith.

She wondered how dedicated, especially once
she realized the Hummer was now in Tribeca. He had an apartment
there, something she’d heard or read somewhere. It wasn’t as if
she’d done any snooping about him since he’d pushed her onto the
dance floor at Angel and Billy Burner’s wedding.
Well, maybe a
little.
“Where are we going?”

“My place.”

She scowled, disappointed that he wasn’t the
saint he portrayed himself to be. Was he so easily led astray?

“I have a second bedroom.”

“Great.” Her scowl deepened. Now she was
disappointed about him
not
being so easily led astray.

At his apartment, Liam was all business.
Unlike the utilitarian loft or man cave she expected, he led her
through a cozily decorated space. He pointed out the second bedroom
and adjacent bathroom—matched in autumn tones of warm brown and
reds. He asked if she wanted something to eat from the pristine,
Shaker-style kitchen. The perfect host. It annoyed her. So did his
polite manner. “Well, aren’t you a regular Martha Stewart.”

“Back to the old Hayden, I see.” He folded
his arms, clearly frustrated with her. “That didn’t take long.”

“Wait.” He had gone out of his way to keep
her out of trouble. She said the second hardest thing for her to
say. “Thank you.”

“Wow, a thank you from Hayden
Middleton.”

“A ‘you’re welcome’ would have sufficed.”
She tried to brush by him so she could head to the guest
bedroom.

“Hold on.” He stepped in her way. “I’m
sorry. That was uncalled for.”

He looked so contrite that she felt bad for
being bitchy. Surprising herself, she said the number-one hardest
thing for her to say, never mind admit. “I’m sorry too.”

“For what?” He stepped closer, his breath
mingling with hers.

“For calling you a loser.”

“I’ve been called worse. I’ve been
worse.”

Did he really buy into the hype that he was
to blame for the Cougars’ loss last winter? “It wasn’t your fault,
you know?” She touched his arm. “The Championship?”

His fingers brushed along her check. “Aw,
Hayden, I could kiss you for that.”

Then why don’t you?
Hayden could melt
into his smoldering eyes. Swim in them. Drown in them. She closed
her eyes and willed a kiss out of him.

Instead cold air replaced his warm breath. A
chill settled in her bones, and she opened her eyes and wrapped her
arms around herself. “But—”

“That dress looks uncomfortable for
sleeping. I’ll get you a shirt to borrow.” A gaze full of
indecision lingered for a moment, and then he headed to his
bedroom.

She didn’t want his shirt. She wanted to be
naked. Skin to skin. If the bulge in his pants was any indication
of his interest, he did too.

So what the hell just happened? What did she
do wrong? She was
nice
to him.
Nice.

But it seemed even reformed bad guys wanted
a bad girl. And Hayden knew how to be bad. Real bad. And real
naughty. As soon as he came back she’d kiss him until he threw her
over his shoulder and tossed her onto his bed. Only she never got
the chance.

“Catch.” From the hallway he tossed her his
clean practice jersey.

Unprepared, it landed on her head.
“Chicken,” she called out.

“Jezebel,” he shouted back then shut his
door.

She stamped her foot and headed for the
bathroom.