Risky Play (Red Card #1)(9)

The voice mail finished.

And the guilt descended.

He wanted me to be happy, and he’d sacrificed everything in order for me to get it, and even though I took care of him financially, I still felt like I’d abandoned him when I took the job with the Seattle team.

I brushed the thoughts away and quickly dressed in a pair of white linen pants and a button-down blue linen shirt.

With five minutes to spare I was knocking on Ashley’s door. She opened on the third knock. “Ready?”

“Is it on purpose?” I asked, casually eying her tight white dress and the way the straps disappeared in a crisscross pattern down the small of her back as she did a little turn. Her tanned skin was like a homing beacon, I couldn’t look away.

“What?” Her lips were brushed with something shiny that my mouth decided it was going to sample later.

“Did you dress like that to torture me?” I hit the elevator button. “You look . . .” I shook my head and exhaled. “Like cake.”

“Cake?”

“Before you get offended, I want to make you aware of the very serious relationship I have with cake. Get between me and cake and you’re taking your life into your hands. And you?” I leaned in and sniffed her neck, then pressed an open-mouthed kiss below her ear. “You’d be chocolate sin filled with molten lava spilling out onto the plate, waiting to be slowly licked up. I think I’d savor you for hours, days . . .”

She shivered.

I almost hit the up button to take us back to our suites and our two empty beds.

And I knew how to make use of both of them with finesse.

Instead, we walked to dinner. Her blushing, me lusting.

Football was huge in Mexico so I wasn’t sure if I would be recognized. I’d seen posters of myself on the streets on the way in. So the minute we were seated, I excused myself and sought out our server. I took out my wallet, grabbed a few hundreds, and handed them to the surprised young man. “Make sure nobody disturbs us or recognizes me. If people want autographs, I’ll sign everything later.”

“Sí, senor.” He shook my hand.

By the time I returned to the table, Ashley had ordered wine and was giddily pointing to my glass. “Okay, honest opinion, go!”

“Something of a wine connoisseur?” I asked her.

“Something like that.” She glowed, her confidence in her own skills was sexy as hell.

I sniffed, swirled, and then tasted as the dry Cab ran down my throat and exploded into a sensation of blueberries and something tart. “That’s . . . perfect.”

She did a little mock bow. “My calling in life.”

“Drinking?”

She laughed then shrugged. “Cheers, I guess?”

Our glasses clinked together. “So what is it you do, then? You’ve got me curious.”

“Oh, um . . .” She shifted in her seat. “I actually used to work for a wine company, I was a sommelier. In layman’s terms, a wine taster.”

“You need to have the perfect palate for that.” No wonder she had such a perfect mouth.

“Yup.”

“What do you mean was?”

She looked away. “Long story, let’s just say I’m taking a much needed break from life. And you? What do you do?”

“Ah.” Her job explained her extravagant spending, tasters were paid well. I suddenly felt comfortable sharing more. “I’m an athlete.”

“No shock there.” She smiled sweetly. “What kind of athlete?”

“The kind that gets paid.” I shrugged the question off. “Nothing too exciting, trust me.”

Her voice lowered. “Would people here recognize you? Are you that kind of athlete?”

I grinned and whispered back, “Do you see people rushing our table?”

She scrunched up her nose. “I guess not. But still, professional, that’s huge. I bet your family’s proud.”

“Yeah.” I started to feel more guilty that I hadn’t yet called my father back. “They’re very supportive. Family is everything, you know?”

A shadow crossed her face.

I knew there was a story there.

But I didn’t push.

Because I still didn’t know how to define what was happening.

“Are you ready to order?” Our server arrived. And all thoughts of sharing our pasts vanished between bottles of wine and savory food, and when we made it back to her room four hours later, a bit drunk, and laughing, I swept in and kissed her again.

This time, she clung to my shirt with her hands like I was her lifeline. I didn’t realize how long it had been since I’d been truly wanted.

For me.

Not for what I did.

How much money I made.

Or how many Olympic medals I had.

Her tongue tasted like wine and the chocolate soufflé we’d shared for dessert. I slid her key card against her door and we stumbled through. I slammed it behind me as I pulled her into my arms and then slowly lowered her dress over her breasts, down her stomach, and off her curvy hips.

She was completely naked underneath.

“Fuck . . .” I captured her mouth again as she kicked off her heels and pulled the string to my linen pants. They fell to the carpet, exposing me completely. Apparently we’d both had sex on the mind, sex and the least amount of clothing possible between our sweltering bodies.