A Numbers Game (3 page)

“Huh,” her brother said, eyeing Heath a little more carefully. “You were only there a year. I didn’t realize you’d tutored. You didn’t when you transferred to Northwestern.”

“No,” she said, her voice firm. “I didn’t.”

“I can head into dinner alone, if you guys want a few more minutes.”

Merrit snuggled deeper under her brother’s arm. “It’s okay. We’re done.”

Heath let one corner of his mouth turn up. She may think they were done, but he was sick and tired of Merrit avoiding him. He’d let her get away once, but he’d be damned if he’d let her do it again. And he wanted more from her now than just for her to hear his apology. “We have plenty of time to catch up later.” He took great pleasure in watching her ever expressive eyes grow wide. “Enjoy your dinner.”

Her brother cast one more look over his shoulder as he led his sister away. Heath rubbed his hands through his hair, squeezing his throbbing temples as he tried to come up with a plan to get Merrit alone again.

“Heath.” There was that siren’s song again. He turned to face her, surprised she hadn’t finished her escape. Her getaway ten years ago had been immediate and unexplained.

“It was great to seeing you again. Maybe we can catch up some more after dinner?”

He wanted to slap his head. Her abrupt role reversal made him think his brain was playing tricks on him again. But she was standing there, three yards from him, her brother waiting at the ballroom door. Heath searched her face for some indication of why she’d suddenly changed tactics. Merrit had been the most genuine girl he’d known. Until he’d ruined her.
Her eyes gave nothing away and Heath decided he might not get another chance.

“That sounds great. How about we meet back home?”

A slight tremor passed through her body. Someone who didn’t know her intimately wouldn’t have picked up on it, but Heath knew her—and her body—too well. She jerked her chin up and gave him a nod before retreating into the ballroom on the arm of her brother.

The root canal Merrit had endured last year was less painful than the dinner that followed her confrontation with Heath Gibson. She’d been on pins and needles since early that morning when she saw him standing on the lawn. It had been ten years since she’d last laid eyes on Heath in the flesh. From what she’d seen, his flesh hadn’t suffered too much wear and tear over the past decade, despite spending it in the NFL. He was leaner than he’d been as a college student, his muscles defined but not bulky. Gone also was his youthful face. Maturity had hardened his jawline, tightening his mouth, while the laugh lines fanning out from his eyes were more pronounced. One look at him and she was the vulnerable college girl again, the one who led with her whole heart.

And then he’d touched her . . . Merrit squirmed in the chair as she remembered the feel of his fingers on her skin, practically searing her, the reaction was so intense. Just the thought of his body and what it could do to her stirred up feelings in parts of her that had been dormant for years—parts not even Grant had been able to reach. And that made her angry. She’d always been susceptible to Heath’s charm—and his body. She had to remind herself that he preyed on that weakness. Still, her own nerves thrummed at the notion of him touching her again, and the idea tied her stomach up in knots.

Blake paused in his conversation with the Blaze’s future owner, Jay McManus—his best friend from their days at the University of Chicago—to give her hand a reassuring pat. Her brother sensed that something was up, but she’d been able to convince him it was the photo of Grant in this morning’s
Trib
that was upsetting her. Blake—her whole family—would be disappointed that she’d been duped by another man the same way Grant had conned them all.

“You haven’t touched your dinner,” Blake whispered. “Eat something or I’ll tell Mom.”

Her brother was teasing, she knew, but the concern in his voice made her chest ache. She was tired of being the odd woman out in her family of Teflon extroverts. Merrit was sick of men stomping all over her heart. It was time for her to find her backbone and stand up for herself, and she’d made up her mind: she was going to start tonight.

As Blake had led her out of the lobby earlier, Heath’s words crackled through her mind:
You’ve spent ten years running from this conversation. Avoiding me
. Sure, she’d run ten years ago. Away from Heath. Away from South Bend. He’d humiliated her by dating her, and then bedding her, all because of a dare from his teammates. She’d given him all she had, her youthful heart included, and it had all been a lie. Worst of all, she wasn’t sure if she was more angry at Heath for the deception or ashamed of herself for succumbing to it.

This evening, before she’d even thought about what she was doing, she’d turned back to Heath, agreeing to meet with him later tonight. She was well aware that he wanted to clear the air, to absolve himself of guilt. To say he was sorry and walk away. It didn’t matter what his motive was, though. Merrit wanted a different type of closure. The heat in his eyes when he touched her earlier had been unmistakable—he still wanted her, and that knowledge had awakened a need in her she’d thought had shriveled up long ago. Sex with Heath had always been practically a religious experience, one she didn’t want to deny herself. She wasn’t that immature co-ed any longer, though, mistaking lust for love. Tonight, she would take a page from Heath’s own playbook, using him to settle a score—silencing the doubts Grant had planted in her head. And when she walked away in the morning, she’d do so sedately—not at a run—proving to Heath that an encounter with him could no longer touch her heart.

Her plan seemed a lot more doable when she was sitting in a crowded ballroom with her knight-in-shining-armor brother at her side. Two hours later, as she walked up the sidewalk to the condo, she felt her confidence evaporate into the muggy June night. Heath had left the gala early; she’d surreptitiously kept an eye on table six throughout dinner, but he never took his seat. Now she knew why. He was camped out on her front step, a bottle of beer cradled in his long fingers. His tuxedo had been replaced with a pair of cargo shorts and a faded REM T-shirt. Heath’s coffee eyes were resolute and the soft glow of the porch light bouncing off his unruly hair did nothing to tame his appearance. Merrit nearly tripped over her heels, he looked so . . . dogged sitting there. Not to mention sexy as hell.

You have to do this,
she chastised herself.
You NEED do this.

“Lock yourself out again?” Thankfully, her voice held a little bravado.

He tapped his pocket. “Nope.”

Merrit leaned against the porch railing, wishing she possessed her sister’s innate ability to act cool around men. Addison had perfected flirting to an art form, and Merrit was light-years behind her in ability and confidence. She wasn’t that practiced in seducing a man, either. Obviously, her plan wasn’t as well thought out as she believed.

“I wasn’t sure you meant what you said earlier,” he said, his gaze still trained out on the darkened street. “I’ve actually been sitting here thinking you’d probably skipped town with your brother and I’d have to chase you to Chicago.
Again.
”

Merrit bobbled slightly on her high heels, refusing to acknowledge the twinge of embarrassment she felt about skipping out of South Bend, and then Chicago, a decade ago. “I’m pretty sure the neighborhood watch still has a picture of you on their most-wanted list.”

She’d already left for Paris with her mother by the time Heath had been caught scaling the gate outside her parents’ home. According to her father, he’d given no explanation for his actions to the police, but no charges were ever filed. Apparently, her parents had no trouble believing it was all a mix-up. After all, why would a big-time college athlete be looking for the boring Callahan?

“Hmm,” he said before taking a pull of his beer.

Just watching the muscles contracting in his throat was making Merrit hot and bothered. She was a fool for even getting this close to him; an idiot for thinking she’d have the upper hand in any encounter between them. Or that she could walk away unscathed. Retreat was always her default option because the alternative was scary.
And messy.
It would be easier to just lock herself inside her condo as quickly as she could.

She sighed into the dark night, deciding to heft the white flag. “Look, Heath. Why don’t you just say what it is you think is so important for you to say and then go.”

“Invite me inside, Merrit.”

The heat in his demand coursed through her body, making her ache at her core.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she whispered. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

He was up on his feet in one fluid move, mere inches now separating their bodies. She could feel the tension radiating off him, pinning her to the wooden post. He traced a finger—still damp from where he’d held the beer bottle—along her jaw. Merrit swallowed a moan.

“Changed your mind about what, Merry?” His breath licked at her skin, making her body quiver. “About hearing me out? Or about something else?”

Damn him!
The arrogant jerk knew how aroused she was by him and he wasn’t above using it to his advantage. But he wasn’t unaffected either; she could hear it in his ragged breathing and see it in the way his eyes darted to her lips.
Fine.
Her flagging confidence was now re-energized. She’d stick to her plan of using Heath like he’d used her all those years ago. Tonight, she’d take what she wanted and then she’d head back to Chicago, never having to lay eyes on Heath Gibson again. And while she was at it, she’d prove to herself she wasn’t the cold, dispassionate woman in the bedroom that Grant had accused her of being.

Merrit pushed past him and jabbed the key in the lock. It took her two attempts, but the door finally opened. When it did, Heath released a deep sigh at her back, one that traveled like seismic waves throughout her body. The room was dark but for a small lamp barely illuminating the hallway. She didn’t bother to look behind to see if he was following as she headed for the bedroom.

“Merrit.” Her name came out of his mouth as a guttural growl, and every part of her was aching now. “Stop. We have to talk.”

She halted at the threshold of her bedroom, but she didn’t dare turn to face him. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Talking would ruin everything. Hearing his excuses would kill the mood. And Merrit needed to do this.
Tonight.
The sound of the beer bottle being placed on the granite counter top alerted her that Heath was moving in her direction. She stepped out of her shoes, padding on bare feet into the bedroom, and switched on the bedside lamp.

“Jesus, Merrit,” Heath said as he followed her into the room. “Slow down a minute.”

Said no man, ever.

Clearly, she needed a lot more practice in the art of seduction. But Merrit didn’t want to stop; she didn’t know how. With her back still to him, she lowered the zipper on her dress, allowing the soft fabric to slide down her body and pool at her feet. Heath groaned behind her and she heard him sit with some force on the bed. “What’s gotten into you? This isn’t the Merrit I know.”

She whirled around to face him, hands on her hips. “You don’t know me anymore, Heath! Maybe I’ve changed in the last ten years. I’m not that gullible, innocent girl I once was.”

Heath wore an incredulous look on his face, his eyes trained on the dark blue convertible bra and the lacy panties she wore. She watched as he tried to rein in his wits. He gave his head a little shake before speaking. “We’re not doing anything until we talk first.”

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say. That’s not what I invited you here for tonight. You’re way overdressed for what I intend. Now strip.” She was as amazed at the demand coming out of her mouth as he apparently was. His gaze slowly traveled from the region of her navel to her face. Heat blazed in his eyes, along with something else. Something that made her feel a little queasy.

“This is you avoiding again, Merrit,” he said, softly. But the force of his words felt like a weight on her chest. Suddenly she was cold in the sultry June heat. That he could accuse her after everything he’d done in the past stung deeply. She’d made a terrible misstep in thinking she could keep him from hurting her again. A small sob escaped her as she tried to figure out how to extricate herself from the situation.

“Aw, hell!” Heath’s words reached her just as his body did, his strong arms enveloping hers as his mouth descended for a kiss. He kissed her as if he possessed her, and the realization of that thought was not lost on Merrit. The taste of hops and mint mingled with the salt of her tears as embarrassment, anger, and panic warred within her. She was embarrassed by her behavior and angry at Heath. But she was more panicked over the raw need overtaking her as his flesh collided with her own. She struggled only briefly, her movements bringing her into contact with the solid proof that Heath wasn’t in the mood for talking any more than she was. It was all the encouragement she needed.

Merrit’s hands had found their way into the waistband of his shorts. Heath thought he’d explode for sure if she touched him. Sex right now would probably complicate the conversation they needed to have, but who was he to argue with her? Besides, her little bossy-pants routine was the biggest turn-on he’d ever had. In an effort to slow them both down, he let his lips cruise her jawline while he extracted her dangerous hands from between their bodies.

“Uh, uh,” he breathed into her ear. “There’s no hurry. We’ve got all night.”

She let out a miffed little sigh that went straight to his groin. “No talking,” she commanded, nipping at his collarbone through his shirt as her hands fisted in his hair.

Heath smiled against her skin, breathing in her familiar almond scent. He’d been her first lover, and she’d never disappointed, nor had she shied away from asking for what she wanted. But tonight she was a whirling dervish of pent-up frustration, making Heath wonder about her ex-fiancé.

He eased a hand down her spine, pressing her body into his agonizingly hard one. A moan escaped her lips as Heath slid his fingers into the triangle of lace that was supposed to pass for panties. She dragged his mouth back to hers for a hot, steamy kiss and it took him a moment to wrestle back control.

“Easy,” he commanded to her as much as to himself. She responded with another agitated huff. Heath eased her back onto the bed as he toed off his sneakers. Her eyes were still damp and her hair had tumbled from its pins. She looked like a hot mess with her dark bra and panties contrasting with her pearlescent skin.

“Take off your clothes, Heath,” she whispered. “Please.”

One look into her misty blue eyes and he was a goner. He reached a hand behind his neck to tug off his T-shirt at the same time as he pulled his wallet from his shorts and tossed it onto the nightstand. Her kiss-swollen lips curved into an appreciative smile as he shoved his shorts and underwear over his hips and down to the floor. He crawled onto the bed over her and his whole package tightened excruciatingly at the sound of another of her breathy moans. Balancing his weight on his forearms, he heaved a sigh as his skin came in contact with her erotic panties.

“Is this what you wanted, Merry?” he whispered beside her ear before taking the tender lobe between his teeth.

“Hmm,” she sighed, arching her pelvis into his. Her fingers traveled over his biceps to grip his shoulders. “It’s a good start, but I seem to remember there being more.”

“More what?” he teased. He brushed his thumb over her lacy bra, relishing the feel of her nipple puckering further.

“More kissing,” she breathed, reaching for his hair to pull his mouth to hers. But Heath dodged her hands, sliding down her body instead.

“More kissing here?” He untangled the convoluted straps of her bra, baring her breasts to his mouth, and tongued a nipple.

“Yes,” she sighed.

He might have laughed, but he was beginning to get just as agitated as she was. She let out a little mewl as he redirected his attention to her other breast.