Out of Bounds(28)

Until I thought I was busted.

But in a way, Stuart’s reaction makes perfect sense. The team’s image problems stemmed from guys doing drugs and fathering more babies than they could handle. From wrecking cars and trashing hotel rooms. Not from holding hands at the movies, or playing arcade games on the beach.

Stuart drums his fingers on my desk. “When it comes to off-the-field sports stories, there’s little the public loves more than when the quarterback wins the heart of a good girl. But I guess that isn’t happening,” he says, sighing heavily. He stands and turns to leave. “I’m sorry if I was pushy.”

And I snap out of my fog. “Wait.”

He turns, an expectant look in his eyes. Time for me to woman up. Time to do what I planned to do mere minutes ago when I was ready to march into his office. Speak the truth.

“You were right,” I say.

He cocks his head, waiting.

“About the vibe.”

He lifts his chin, a smile sneaking across his mouth. “I was?”

“Yes. I’ve tried to deny it because I thought it could hurt the team, but I’ve spent time with him at events, and have gotten to know him, and I do like him,” I say, owning my feelings, and leaving his off the table for the moment. As a lawyer by trade, I know how to present facts in order to protect others. My job right now is to take the risk for both of us, and I can handle putting my heart on the line.

Especially given Stuart’s answer.

His smile spreads cheek to cheek. “Drew does like you. That was patently obvious,” he says, and I beam. I can’t help it. I love that Stuart could tell Drew feels the same. “And he has excellent taste.”

“Thank you,” I say, then furrow my brow. “It’s really okay?”

He laughs. “Just don’t crash a car, snort a line, or get knocked up too soon. Otherwise, we’re all good. Oh, no sex tapes either.”

My face turns the color of a fire engine. “You can count on that.”

When Stuart leaves, I text Drew.

Dani: Sooooo . . . that idea you floated last night . . .

Drew: The one where you show up at my house naked? Say that comes true tonight, please.

Dani: Glad you’re still game for that.

Drew: Game for you is exactly what I am. But, by idea, did you mean the idea to play whack-a-mole again?

Dani: Yes, sort of. More like what it would take to play whack-a-mole with you.

Drew: I like where this is going. Especially because it sounds dirty. But also, sweet. Continue.

Dani: You said you wanted to make a go of it. That you thought Stuart was pleased. Turns out your instincts aren’t just good on the field.

Drew: I rock in general, don’t you know that? But . . . be a little more specific. He’s pleased about what? The cafeteria at the stadium? The newest press release he wrote? Or . . . ?

Dani: He gave me the thumbs-up to . . . well, to go out with you. I told him I kind of liked you.

Drew: Holy shit. You did that for us? You talked to Stuart?

I give him the quick version of how it all went down, then send one more text.

Dani: Please tell me you aren’t pissed.

Drew: I’m f*cking ecstatic. You are one badass, ballsy babe, and I’m crazy for you. And what you did makes me even crazier for you.

Dani: Whew. I’ll take that brand of crazy.

Drew: You deserve about a dozen orgasms. Good thing is, I know just the man who can deliver them.

Dani: Make it a baker’s dozen please.

Drew: Consider it done.





Chapter Eleven

Dani

There is a dinner at a cafe by the ocean. There is a walk from the beach to my house. There are delicious conversations along the way.

All that is part of tonight. But with the electric chemistry between us, there is mostly a low sexual hum in the air. A vibration between us that crackles and sparks, and we both know it’s about to combust the second we reach my front door.

Because there is permission.

In some ways, I feel foolish that we were so cautious. But in other ways, I don’t feel foolish for having played it—mostly—safe. We were able to get to know each other. We were able to talk and to chat. Sure, we skirted the line in his car, and we toyed with it again on the phone. But as we reach my porch, I know it’s different now than the last time we were here, and that difference makes me feel good about this choice. I unlock the green front door to my home and stumble inside with Drew Erickson. His hands are on my waist, his lips are on my shoulders, and the man hasn’t been able to keep his paws off me since . . . well, since this date started two hours ago.

Now, we both know what’s coming next.

Us.

The door snaps shut.

“Wanted this for so long,” he says, his voice smoky in my ear as he smothers my neck in kisses, his touch making the world around me glow. This is the definition of swooning. This is the meaning of weak in the knees. Look it up. It’s what he’s doing to me. My neck is his playground, and he covers it in caresses, gentle kisses, then hungrier nips. I never would have pegged him as a man so keen on kissing. But then, Drew Erickson has been surprising me from day one, when he bonked his head on a surfboard.

My stomach flips as he presses his lips to the hollow of my throat, then backs me up to my couch. I sink down on it, and he follows me, his big body pressed against mine.