It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars #1)(61)

He was blowing now. His chest heaved as he emptied and filled his lungs, an athlete reaching for the limits of his endurance. She understood then that he was determined she would shatter first. He was a man who thrived on competition, and in this particular game, second place earned the trophy. He didn’t know how it was with her. He didn’t understand that she couldn’t.

But there was something she didn’t understand. To him, winning was everything. And he wasn’t above cheating.

With his fingers, he found her most vulnerable spot. She gasped for air, her head fell forward. He deepened that thrilling, unfair touch. The room whirled around her, spinning faster and faster, and the boundaries between what was his and what was hers dissolved.

It couldn’t be happening. It never happened. . . .

A great cry spilled from her very center. She heard a dim, answering roar and felt his fierce shudders. Spinning free of gravity, they hurtled into oblivion.





13


Phoebe’s cheek was stuck to Dan’s chest and her leg was twisted at an uncomfortable angle, but she didn’t care. As she lay in his arms, her heart was filled with gratitude toward this tender warrior who had done so much to vanquish the enemies of her past.

The air conditioner hissed. In the hallway someone slammed a door. She waited for him to speak because she didn’t know what to say.

He shifted his weight and rolled to the side. She felt chilly air on her bare back. He pulled his arm from beneath her and sat up on the edge of the bed, his back to her. She felt the first wisps of uneasiness.

“You were great, Phoebe.”

He turned and gave her a fake, too-friendly smile. A chill shot through her as she wondered if it was the same one he’d given all the football groupies when he was done with them.

“I had a real good time. Really.” He reached for his jeans. “Tomorrow’s a big day. Got to get up early.”

Every part of her had grown cold. She fumbled with the covers. “Of course. It’s late, I—” She slipped out of bed on the opposite side. “Let me just—” She grabbed for her clothes.

“Phoebe—”

“Here. I’ve got it all.” She made a dash for the bathroom. Her cheeks burned with shame, anger, and hurt as she pulled on her clothes. How could something that had been so earth-shattering for her have been so meaningless to him? She tried to force air past the knot in her throat. Her teeth began to chatter, and she clamped her jaw shut, determined not to let him know what he had done to her. She wouldn’t fall apart until she was alone.

When she emerged, she saw that he had pulled on his jeans. He faced the bathroom door. His hair was tousled, his expression guilty. “You want a drink or something?”

Drawing on the same bravado that had kept her sane for so many years, she tossed her ugly white bra at his feet. “Add this to your souvenir collection, Coach. I don’t want you to lose count.”

Then she was gone.

As the door shut behind her, Dan cursed under his breath. No matter how much he wanted to rationalize, he knew he had just acted like a first-class heel. Even so, he rubbed his arm and tried to tell himself that what he’d done wasn’t all that bad. Phoebe knew the score, so what was the big deal?

The big deal was the fact that, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced sex as good as what had just taken place in this room, and it scared him because it had been so unexpected. There’d been this crazy innocence about her that had excited him beyond belief. She’d been wild and sweet, and just thinking about that curvy body of hers was making him hard again.

He kicked away the bra she had tossed at him and stalked over to the minibar, where he pulled out a bottle of beer. As he twisted off the cap, he acknowledged the real reason he’d acted so badly. It was because he’d felt guilty. From the time he’d seen Phoebe kissing Bobby Tom in the bar to the moment that beautiful blonde had shown him the stars in a million different colors, he’d forgotten all about Sharon Anderson.

Dammit! He’d told himself he wasn’t going to do this kind of thing any more. He hadn’t been with another woman since he’d met Valerie, and that had been almost five years ago. The first time should have been with Sharon, not with Phoebe. Now, when he and Sharon finally climbed into bed, that sweet little nursery school lady was going to be competing in his mind with a seasoned sexual tri-athlete.

Even so, he shouldn’t have kicked Phoebe out like that. Guilt gnawed at him. Despite all her character defects, he couldn’t help liking her, and he was almost certain he’d hurt her feelings, although she had so much sass, it was hard to know for sure. Damn, that woman had made him crazy from the first time they’d met. If he weren’t careful, his lust for her would completely screw up his budding relationship with Sharon.

Right then he made a promise. No matter what he had to do, he wasn’t going to let that gorgeous sex bomb sink her claws into him any deeper than she already had. Maybe he owed her an apology, but that was it. From now on, he was a one-woman man.



Phoebe was mad as hell as she got ready to go onto the field for the first quarter of the Stars-Sabers game. Jerk! Idiot! Moron! She stood at the mouth of the tunnel and called herself every name in the book. Of all the brainless, self-destructive, idiotic things she could have done, this one took the cake.