Authors: Mackenzie Crowne
“He likes you.” Not a hint of the hysteria squeezing her throat sounded in her voice.
“From what I’ve seen, he likes everyone. Almost as much as he likes ramming his head into a guy’s balls.”
He grunted, but silent laughter brightened his eyes. Her fascination bloomed as his already-broad chest expanded on a cleansing breath. This wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed him shedding dark emotions for lighter ones. How did he pull it off with such casual ease? She wished she could figure out his secret. What a great trick to
not
be a prisoner to her moods.
He thumped Murphy’s side roughly then shoved him in her direction. The dog attempted to climb onto her lap the way he had thirty-five pounds ago.
She grinned and held him off, scrubbing his head. “He’s a good boy, and we’re working on the head butting thing. Aren’t we, Murph?”
He leaned into her hand with a doggy groan.
“Besides, he’s good with the girls. They need his kind of unconditional love right now.”
Jake shook his head. “No wonder you’re good with the twins. You’ve been in their shoes.”
The way he swung from complaint to compliment made her head spin, as did the dimple popping in his smile.
“I don’t get it,” Jake said.
“What?” She chewed her bottom lip and nudged Murphy off the couch. He trotted off, toward the kitchen, no doubt.
Jake coughed on a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not sure what the problem is, but, for some reason, I keep jumping to the wrong conclusions about you.”
She instantly relaxed, curving her lips in a taunting smile. “Too many hits to the head?”
The low timber of his laugh caressed her skin like stroking fingers.
“See, that’s what I mean. You’re a mass of contradictions. You come across as a cool princess until you open that smart ass mouth.”
She shifted her shoulders in a casual shrug and smirked. “What conclusion did you jump to?”
“I had you pegged as a spoiled little rich girl.”
“I wish!” She grinned, delighted at the image. “Wait. Why would you think that?”
He glanced purposefully at her feet. Today’s supple boots were knee-length leather dreams. “Princess, the contents of your shoe closet would break the budgets of a lot of third world countries.”
Was he kidding? She chortled a laugh. “You based your opinion of me on my footwear?”
The mischievous sparkle returned to his eyes. He sat forward, leaning his upper body toward her. “I’m a leg man, remember? And the way you keep chewing on your lip reminds me how much I’d like to nibble on your lips, right next to that sexy little mole at the corner of your mouth.”
Warning sirens pealed. She slapped a hand against his chest and ignored his reference to her mouth for a safer subject. “They’re knockoffs, and since you brought it up, we need to talk about this flirting habit of yours.”
He closed the distance marginally, despite her stiff arm. “I’d rather talk about that mole,
or
your legs.”
She shoved, hard. He fell back, a grin curving his lips.
“I mean it.”
“Me, too. You’ve got incredible legs.”
Her glare made him laugh. She shifted, preparing to stand. He held up both hands in surrender. “Fine. Talk away, but don’t blame me if I have a hard time concentrating.” His grin twisted sensually. “Because, damn, princess, you’re awfully pretty when you’re mad.”
She scooted as far away from him as she could get. “That kind of comment is exactly what I’m talking about. You have to stop.”
“Why? I’m only speaking the truth.”
“Because there are two little girls upstairs whose lives are already complicated enough. They need a stable environment. Since, as you say, we’re stuck here together for the next three months, we need to set some ground rules and it would be best if we could be friends.”
“I agree.”
She blew out a breath. “Good.”
“And I don’t see the problem with telling my
friend
she has great legs.”
“The problem
is
, that’s flirting. Friends don’t flirt.”
“Of course they do, if they’re of the opposite sex.”
“Mine don’t.”
“Then you need new friends.”
Was he being purposefully obtuse? She pushed to her feet. “Forget it. I’m wasting my time talking to you.”
He laughed and rose beside her. “Damn, you’re prickly.”
She pivoted to step by him.
He stopped her with a hand to her arm. “I get what you’re saying. I don’t happen to agree.”
She tugged her arm free. “Then we’re going to have to agree to disagree, because this is non-negotiable.”
“If this is about that kiss…”
“Of course this is about that kiss. I was trying to make a point, and you…and then…”
If his spreading grin was an indication, he found her stilted stammer highly entertaining.
She straightened her shoulders. “It
cannot
happen again.”
He crossed his arms, all cocky, sexy male, well pleased with himself. “I consider that a damn shame.”
“Yeah, well. Like I said. Non-negotiable.”
“You’re a heartless woman.” He sighed and his downturned lips resembled those of a pouting little boy. “I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with a heartless woman, and you say no kissing? Heartless.”
One by one, his flirtatious comments over the past few days echoed in her head and, like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place, his behavior suddenly made excruciating sense.
“Wow.” She shook her head and coughed out a mirthless laugh. “I’m
so
glad I’m not a guy. It must suck to have your every thought driven by your penis.”
Dimples popped in his unapologetic grin, and he cocked his head, dipping his knees to meet her gaze more directly. The hot deviltry in his smiling eyes threatened to melt her on the spot.
“True, but every now and then, my penis has an especially good idea. Like kissing you.”
Oh, dear Lord
. How was she supposed to argue with a man who used seduction as a weapon, instead of arguing back?
She lifted her chin and did her best to appear unaffected by his sneaky charm. “I’m not your personal toy, here to keep you from being bored.”
Bull’s-eye. His grin fizzled beneath a guilty frown.
“Cheer up, Jake. The will didn’t say anything about not having people over. I’m sure you can find any number of women on your long list of
friends
who’ll be willing to help keep you entertained.” She flounced off toward the foyer. “Just keep your play dates away from the twins.”
“Princess….”
She hated ruining a perfect exit but couldn’t resist. She paused to glance over her shoulder. He stared at her boots.
“Are those really fakes?”
“Of course they’re fakes. How else could I feed a high-end shoe fetish on a low-end budget? These things would be six hundred dollars if they were the real thing.”
He sucked air through his teeth and tucked his hands into his front pockets. “A shoe fetish, huh? Man, that’s sexy.”
“Oh. My. God. You have a one-track mind.”
He started toward her, and she hoped the lapels of her blouse weren’t pulsing under the sudden pounding of her heart. She tucked her laptop to her chest like a shield. Maybe the radiation waves would act like some kind of weird counteract to her overheated blood.
He drew close, and she held out a hand to ward him off. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Too late.” His secret weapon dimples popped, but he came to a stop several feet away.
She swallowed. Turning around and running was out. Considering what he did for a living, he’d probably tackle her.
Hmmm
. A vivid picture of the two of them entwined on the throw rug bloomed in her head. She tucked the laptop closer. Un-uh, running was a bad idea. No choice but to brazen it out. She narrowed her eyes. “Why did you come downstairs, anyway? I thought you’d gone to sleep.”
He dipped his brows in a dangerous tilt. “Coward.”
Her blood went hot. She bared her teeth in tight a smile and refused to acknowledge the truth of his remark.
He shook his head and laughed. “Actually, I came looking for you. Funny, you mentioned having friends over. It’s my turn to host our monthly poker game. Nothing special, just a couple of guys from the team.”
Monthly poker game with his teammates? Here?
“Monday night. Don’t worry. We’ll keep it down, and they won’t arrive until after the girls have gone to bed.”
Shit. Shit. Shit!
“I also wanted to remind you I’ll be leaving for Tampa in the morning.”
“Oh.”
That
bit of news cooled her blood, and her building panic over a house full of players receded behind an odd disappointment.
Gracie! Pay attention! He’s leaving town. A few Jake-free days is a
good
thing!
“I’d like to drive the girls to school before I leave. I’ll be gone until late Sunday night and, with things the way they are with Angel, I thought…” He jerked a shoulder in a stilted shrug.
“Oh.”
“If you don’t think it’s a good idea….”
“No.” Her heart sank.
Bad enough he could sizzle her insides with a look. Did he have to be a nice guy, too?
I am so screwed.
She sighed. “I think it’s a sweet idea. The girls will love it.”
He dipped his head. “All right, then. I’ll see you in the morning?”
“I’ve got an early appointment.”
“Need a ride?” His teasing grin touched her in places she didn’t want to think of at the moment.
She rolled her eyes, recalling their one wild ride. “Not on your life. Anyway, I’ll be gone before six.”
“Then I’ll see you when I get back.”
She nodded, turned, and headed for the stairs.
“Oh, and Gracie, about that shoe fetish—”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Jake—”
He grinned. “You might want to pick up some knockoff snow boots. There’s another storm moving in.”
As Jake predicted, a cold front moved in two hours after the Marauders’ plane took off for Tampa the next morning. Howling winds and plunging temperatures made for a dreary Saturday. The fast-moving storm swirled through the northeast, leaving behind six inches of fresh snow. Anxious to break in their new snowsuits, the twins greeted Gracie bright and early Sunday morning, dragging her down to breakfast before the sun cleared the treetops.
Snow angels, tobogganing, and girlish giggles were the order of the day. Gracie wouldn’t need a workout for days after schlepping the toboggan repeatedly to the top of the rise behind the barn, only to sail down again. Murphy joined them for their chilly, three-hour romp, bounding alongside the sled and nipping at hats, mittens or flapping scarves.
Pleading exhaustion, Gracie convinced the girls to take a break in time for the kickoff in Tampa. Not that she’d planned her day around watching Jake on the field. There were
numerous
teams she followed on a weekly basis, including the Marauders. Her interest in the weekly matchups was business. She had a blog to write. The minions would expect a complete report.
The rationalization poked at her as she gathered the makings of a game time snack. Ignoring the prick of guilt, she carried a tray of sandwiches into the den. Never interested in football before, the girls now had a vested interest in the game. They insisted on experiencing today’s broadcast from the beginning. The pregame analysis didn’t impress either of them, but the young pop star, belting out the national anthem on the large flat screen TV, perked their interest considerably. Strutting their stuff on the coffee table like miniature divas, they sang along, with the help of the remote control and a hairbrush as make-do microphones.
Charlie squealed, dancing with excitement when the camera zoomed in on Jake. Helmet tucked under one arm, he paced the sideline like a caged animal as the commentators tore apart his stats and placed odds on his breaking the touchdown record anytime soon. Angel opened her coloring book and pretended disinterest, but her gaze repeatedly returned to the set. Gracie kept her hands busy making up plates of snacks for the girls. Between sips of hot chocolate and bites of sandwich, they peppered her with questions.
Why did Jake have black stuff under his eyes? Did she think Jake would bring them to meet the cheerleaders? How far away is Tampa?
When the teams took the field, Angel proclaimed Tampa’s red uniforms far prettier than the Marauders’ blue and gold. During halftime, they huddled at the coffee table. Angel leaned on her elbows, making suggestions as Charlie sketched alternate uniform designs with her crayons. They planned to present their favorite, a dazzling, sparkly purple with pink stripes, to Jake upon his return.
Gracie bit her lip to stifle a laugh at the image her mind provided then jumped to her feet when Jake snatched the ball out of the air a split second before two red uniforms slammed him to the ground on the one-yard line. The girls cheered with delight and copied Jake’s end zone spike celebration when he added his tenth and, later, his eleventh touchdowns of the season to his stats, bringing him within seven of the record.
Larger than life, and twice as handsome, his familiar face and form filled the screen during a brief, post-game interview. Sweaty and exuberant over the win, he repeated the usual platitudes about how it was a team game and sure, the record would be nice but a check in the win column was the ultimate goal. He winked into the camera, and Gracie’s heart quivered in her chest.
Good Lord. Even from one thousand miles away, he managed to flirt effectively. She grimaced. Technically, his
flirting was in her imagination in this case, but geez. His dimpled smile and gleaming eyes stared through the screen as if aimed directly at her and did a number on her system.
Not good. Not good at all.
Hours later, she crawled into bed with a heavy heart and didn’t fall asleep until long after he arrived at the farm a few minutes before midnight. Neither her ground rules nor the unflattering motive for his heavy-duty flirting made a bit of difference. She pounded at her pillow. If she were going to survive the next three months without doing something stupid, like sneaking into his bedroom down the hall, she’d need to employ some tougher tactics. To prop up her flagging willpower, some good, old-fashioned avoidance was in order.