The All-Star Antes Up (Wager of Hearts #2) (16 page)

“Which are not very high.” He moved his hand up her back to twirl a strand of her thick shiny hair around his finger because he couldn’t resist.

“I was afraid you might have the wrong idea about me,” she said. “I don’t usually jump into bed—or onto a weight bench—the first time I go out with a man. You could easily think I was just a—a football groupie.”

That defused some of his anger. “Not a chance of that, sugar. No self-respecting football groupie would turn down tickets on the fifty-yard line.”

He felt her breasts press against his chest as she sighed.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night,” he said, before all the reasons he shouldn’t ask her stopped him.

“Seriously?”

He couldn’t decide if happy or astonished described her tone better. “Yes.” He tried to see her expression, but she’d angled her head downward on his arm.

“Shouldn’t you spend some time with your brother?” Her voice was heavy with regret.

He thought of Trevor’s response when he’d invited him to DaShawn’s retirement party—
I have nothing to talk about with a bunch of jocks.

“Trevor’s here on business. He’s got other things to do,” Luke said.

Her softly curved body shifted against him, making his cock start to harden. “Thank you, but it’s not a good idea,” she said.

That killed his arousal. “Why not?”

He put his fingers under her chin and tipped her head up so he could see her face. Her velvet brown eyes held guilt. “I work here.”

“We went out to dinner tonight.” He’d been able to just talk, no editing, no worrying about whether it would find its way onto the Internet tomorrow. Not to mention how the candlelight made her lips look full and kissable, while he’d pictured her silky dark hair cascading over her naked breasts.

She lifted her chin out of his grasp but kept her gaze on him. “That was part of the tour.”

“I’ll get a private room at the restaurant. No one will know.” And afterward, well, he had a limo.

He saw longing weaken her resolve and applied more leverage. “Any restaurant in the city. Your choice.”

She still hesitated, so he used his final weapon. He leaned in and devoured her mouth in a hot, sensual kiss.

When he finally released her, her fingers were digging into his shoulders, and her eyes were closed. He allowed himself a satisfied smile as he felt how hard her nipples were.

Her eyelids fluttered open, so he could see the haze of desire in her eyes. “You’re used to getting what you want.”

“Is that a yes?” He waited.

She inhaled, pressing those tight nipples more firmly against him. “Yes, I’ll have dinner with you tomorrow.” She gave him a seductive smile. “But you have to make the reservations.”

Chapter 13

Trevor shuffled into the kitchen wearing flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt. “You were out late last night,” he said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah.” Luke took a sip of his protein shake. He had already showered and dressed in his film-watching outfit of navy blazer, khakis, and a blue button-down shirt with well-shined loafers. As he’d pulled on his clothes, he’d been relieved to find that his night with Miranda had not aggravated his injuries. In the throes of lovemaking, the bruises had been forgotten, which meant he hadn’t been careful about how he moved. Truth was, his body felt more fluid today, so maybe the sex had been good for him. He’d go with that.

Trevor persisted. “I guess your tour went beyond the cultural.”

“I went to the ballet.” Luke figured that would throw Trevor off the scent.

His brother froze for a moment and then started to laugh. “No, seriously. Where did you go last night?”

“The New York City Ballet. An all-Balanchine program. Those dancers are in shape, man.”

Trevor choked on his coffee. “Okay. Say I buy that. The ballet is over at ten thirty, max. You didn’t stroll in until way later than that.”

“All that dancing made me want to do the same, so I went to Cleats.”

“You could have called me.”

Luke thought of Miranda having an orgasm in his arms on the dance floor, one of the most intense things he’d experienced sexually, which was saying something considering that he hadn’t been involved. That made his cock hard all over again. And made him glad he hadn’t called his brother.

“Next time, Trev.” Luke took another swallow of the protein shake. “How’d your meetings go?”

His brother looked out the windows toward the Verrazano Bridge. “Not so great.”

“Academia is a tough field.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Trevor snapped.

“I was stating a fact. Lots of candidates, few job openings.”

“Tell me about it.” His brother transferred his gaze to his coffee mug before he looked up. “I know I was supposed to leave Friday, but I need to stay a little longer, bro.”

Luke cursed inwardly as he thought of his big, comfortable bed and what he wanted to do with Miranda in it. But he didn’t trust Trevor to keep his mouth shut, so he wasn’t going to let the two of them get near each other.
“Mi casa es su casa.”

Trevor stared back into his coffee cup. “Jodie told me not to come home until I had a tenure-track job offer. She said she didn’t care where it was, but she wasn’t going to wait any longer to have children.” He plunked down on a kitchen stool. “With my lack of publications, no one is going to hire me at that level.”

A bad feeling hit the pit of Luke’s stomach. “Not to kick a man when he’s down, but why don’t you finish that book you’ve been working on? You’ve done the research.” Maybe his brother had writer’s block like that asshole Miller.

“It’s not good enough.”

“You don’t know that.” One thing about Luke’s career—it was easy to measure it in wins and losses.

“Yeah, I do. Wilson at Art Forum Press says it’s publishable, but not groundbreaking.”

“You don’t need groundbreaking. You just need publishing credit.”

Trevor stood up. “Really? You would be happy with an adequate career in the NFL? No, you had to be the best goddamned quarterback in the history of the sport. Shit, Luke, don’t be such a hypocrite.”

“What you do and what I do are totally different.” Luke kept his voice level, the way he did when tempers flared in the locker room. “There’s no comparison.”

“Damn straight there isn’t. You make hundreds of millions of dollars, and I make peanuts. Even if I got tenure at Harvard, I’d still make peanuts compared to you.”

Luke wanted to say it wasn’t a competition, but that was crap. Everything in his life was about winning and losing. “You’re comparing apples and oranges. My career will last maybe another four years. You have the best of yours in front of you.”

The truth of it walloped him in the gut.

Trevor snorted. “You’ve broken every offensive record there is to break in the NFL. When sportswriters argue about who’s the greatest quarterback who ever played, your name usually settles in at number one. How do I compete with that?” He threw out his arm dramatically.

“Don’t.” Luke felt a throb start in his left temple as he said something he hated. “I’m the jock. You’re the brain. Our skills are measured differently.”

“And valued differently,” Trevor said bitterly as he sagged back down on the high stool.

Yeah, their parents had valued Trevor’s skills over Luke’s. Maybe that’s why Luke had worked so hard at football. To prove that it was worth doing.

He grimaced at his own introspection on a morning when he had awakened in a surprisingly good mood, considering he was benched. That was Miranda’s doing. And he was seeing her again tonight. “You have any other leads on a job?”

Trevor hunched his shoulders. “A couple of third tier schools in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. They’re no better than where I am now.”

Luke considered the idea of pulling strings for his brother. He could endow a professorship or something, but it didn’t feel right. His brother needed to earn this one on his own or he’d never feel good about himself. “Set up the interviews. I’ll get you a car and driver to take you to them. It’s a start, and then you can do some groundbreaking research.”

“Thanks,” Trevor said in a tight voice.

There was no gratitude in his brother’s curt word, but Luke needed the conversation to end. “No problem. I have to get to work.”

“How about we order Tex-Mex tonight?” Trevor said.

A halfhearted peace offering. “I wish I could,” Luke said, “but I’ve got a commitment.”

“Business or pleasure?”

Luke gave his brother one of his patented “none of your business” stares.

“I guess that answers my question.”

“How about Thurs—oh, crap, I have a charity thing that night that Doug roped me into. You want to come?”

“Nah. I wouldn’t be able to make a big enough donation.”

It wasn’t worth responding to that, so Luke got up and rinsed his glass before putting it in the dishwasher. As he grabbed his jacket and headed for the elevator, he considered the idea of inviting Miranda to the gala. She’d turn him down. Too public. However, he could wring some pleasure out of twisting Gavin Miller’s arm until he showed up and forked over a donation.

He waited until he was in the limo to pull out his phone and dial the author.

“If it isn’t the benched quarterback,” Miller said in greeting. “I’d offer you one of my books to read in your free time, but there isn’t a new one.”

Luke had expected the dig at himself, but not the writer’s sneer at his own problem. “I can provide you with a distraction. I need to fill a table at a charity gala for foster kids tomorrow night.” He reeled off the cause, location, and time.

“I’ll send a check, but I’m not in the mood for society right now.” Miller’s voice was bleak. “No, wait. Get Trainor to bring his mystery woman and I’ll come.” Now his tone had an edge of malicious glee.

“Bring a date yourself.”

“What about you, Mr. All Football All the Time? Will you have a lovely lady on your arm?”

Miranda’s face leaped into his mind again, but the prospect of Gavin Miller’s presence added yet another reason to keep her away from the evening. “My personal trainer.” Elyssa Lauda often acted as his date when he wanted no complications.

“Ah, a woman with a killer body, I imagine.”

“She keeps fit,” Luke said.

“Let me know what Nathan says.” The writer hung up.

He dialed Trainor’s cell and got voice mail but chose not to leave a message. He wanted to apply the right pressure to get the CEO there with his date. Luke was curious about her, too.

Once again Miranda drifted into his thoughts. That reminded him of the need to find an alternative location for their after dinner activities. He speed-dialed the Ritz-Carlton in Battery Park.

Unlike his brother, Luke made his own arrangements where women were concerned.

“Miranda, would you please come to my office?”

When Orin’s nasal voice came through the phone’s speaker, Miranda made a face. She’d been savoring the happy hum of her body as flashes of the night before flitted through her mind. Not to mention the anticipation of sitting across from Luke at a fine restaurant in a few hours. And what would happen afterward. Her nerve endings did a little tango.

The situation was so far beyond anything she’d ever experienced that she couldn’t make herself worry about the risk of being seen with Luke. She’d been keeping her nose to the grindstone and holding her expenses down so she could help her brother out. She needed—deserved—this brief, spectacular fling. Her expectations were realistic, as in zero, so why shouldn’t she let go just this once?

“I’ll be right there,” she said to Orin, wondering what it was this time. Probably some complaint from a client because she wasn’t at the Pinnacle yesterday. Orin hadn’t been happy when Luke had arranged for Miranda to be away the entire day. He couldn’t say much because Luke was such a high profile client. But her boss could still take it out on her.

“Close the door,” Orin said from behind his desk as she entered his office.

That was ominous. She eased the door shut.

“What is this?” He slapped a folded tabloid newspaper down and jabbed his finger at a photo.

Miranda leaned over to see what looked like an amateur cell-phone picture of herself and Luke standing in front of a Van Gogh painting at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The headline read:
Q
UARTERBACK
C
ULTIVATES
C
ULTURE
W
ITH
C
ONCIERGE
C
UTIE
. Miranda relaxed and straightened. “It was just part of the tour I took Mr. Archer on.”

“You’re holding his hand.”

She bent again to see that the photographer had captured their hands in a way that highlighted how intertwined they were. A cold finger of concern drew a line down her spine. “I was escorting him to the next painting.”

“Do you think I’m a fool?” Orin jabbed at the photo again. “You’ve got your fingers knotted around his.”

Miranda thought fast. “It was camouflage. People were starting to notice Mr. Archer, and he said they were less likely to approach him if he looked like he was on a date.” She shrugged. “It worked for a while.”

Orin looked unconvinced. “How did the paper find out who you were?”

“Maybe they looked up his residence and checked out photos of the staff. We’re all on the website. They’re reporters—they know how to track down information.”

Orin’s eyes narrowed. “Mr. Archer will be very upset.”

Now she was on more solid ground. “It was his idea. Do you want to speak with him about it? I’m certain he will reassure you.”

“Of course not. I don’t want to bother him any further than he already has been.” Orin was still huffing, but her confident tone had undermined some of his righteous indignation. “I want your assurance that there will be no further incidents of this nature.” He tapped his finger on his desk to emphasize each word. “We do not socialize with our clients.”

In fact, there was no rule, written or implied, stating that. “I understand,” Miranda said, as nerves squeezed at her throat.

What if Orin found out about tonight’s dinner with Luke? Her boss would go ballistic. Maybe she couldn’t afford this fling, after all.

“If I receive any complaint from Mr. Archer, we will discuss this further,” Orin said.

Luke wasn’t going to complain, so Miranda allowed herself a tiny smile. “Of course.”

Her boss gave her a look of such venom she nearly took a step backward. Then he turned to his computer. “You may go.”

Miranda’s knees felt like jelly as she left Orin’s office and walked across the lobby to her own. Dropping into her chair, she blew out a breath.

Her boss seemed unusually upset. Was it just envy that she got to spend time with someone famous? Or was it the tip he imagined she was getting?

She choked on a laugh devoid of humor. That would be the ultimate joke, since she had refused to let Luke tip her after their day together. She had to charge him for her hourly working time because it went to the concierge company, but she had stopped the clock when they left the ballet.

She needed to cancel dinner with the quarterback. The moment she thought it, every cell in her body screamed,
No!

As Miranda’s sense of responsibility waged a battle with her desires, her phone rang.

“Hey, Miranda, it’s Erik at the Dartmouth.”

“Great to hear from you. What can I help you with?” Erik was the concierge at another luxury condo, and they swapped favors regularly.

“It goes the other way this time, sweetie. I just heard through the concierge grapevine that your evil genius of a boss is spreading nasty rumors about you getting involved with clients. He’s saying you’re behaving unprofessionally. He e-mailed Christine a photo of you and Luke Archer holding hands.” Erik gave a whistle of admiration. “Honey, if it’s true you’re dating him, I am green with envy.”