Backfield in Motion (9 page)

Mac didn’t resist; instead she leaned into
him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Despite muscles honed from
her hours of physical labor, she felt like a woman, all woman, and
he liked that. A lot.

She gazed up at him with a slight smile. Her
perfume floated around him, leaving him in a haze as if he’d just
drunk a tumbler of fine whiskey on an empty stomach. Her size fit
him well. Everything about her fit him, from her soft breasts
rubbing against his chest to her fine thighs brushing against his.
And her eyes were the type of eyes made a strong man weak—eyes that
haunted a man’s dreams and took hold of a man and never let him
go.

He grinned down at her like a damn fool,
just happy to be him and enjoying life.

Sliding his hands down her back, he grabbed
a handful of ass just to get a rise out of her and break the spell
she’d so easily woven. She glared at him and smacked his arm. “Next
time it’ll be a knee to the groin, buster.”

“I think you mean that,” Bruiser said.

“You
know
I mean that. You sure know
how to take advantage of a situation.”

“Hey, I might be pretty, but I’m not stupid.
Gorgeous night, great company, sexy little body plastered against
me. What more could I want even if I’m concerned for the safety of
my manhood?” No truer words were ever spoken.

“I am not plastered against you. You’re
holding me there.” Her brown eyes flashed fire. Damn, he liked when
she was all indignant and wallowing in denial.

He raised one eyebrow. She tried to pull
away but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He owed her for all
those times she kicked his ass at pool and took his money. Instead,
he pulled her closer until their bodies meshed together.

He maneuvered her to a darker part of the
patio, away from most of the dancers. She clung to him. Her
incredible lips parted slightly, and she sighed the most
provocative sigh he’d ever heard. He doubted she meant for it to be
provocative, but pretty much any sound coming from those lips right
now turned him on.

Their gazes locked, and Bruiser forgot
everything he’d ever learned, including the ability to form simple
words. Mac looked as dazed as he felt. He couldn’t look away, even
as the alarm sounded in his head to get out and get out fast. He’d
always paid heed to that alarm, but not tonight. Not with Mac. To
hell with it. He silenced all his inner thoughts except the ones
that swore this was a good idea.

Yeah, a very good idea.

His gaze slipped lower to those luscious
lips of hers. Big, full, and absolutely feminine. Bruiser lowered
his head. Her warm, minty breath feathered his lips. He wanted to
kiss her, and she wanted him to. He knew the signs. Only an inch
separated them. So close. So very close. Her pink tongue darted
out, and she wet her lips. Heat rolled off him in waves, like a hot
sidewalk on a hundred-degree day. Oh, God, his knees almost
buckled. He tilted his head, just one more inch. One little inch
between his lips and the Promised Land.

Then he remembered Brett.

Brett, his buddy. His fishing partner. The
only guy who truly understood him. Loyal to a fault and always
there when needed. And Bruiser, the asshole, was about to kiss the
hell out of Brett’s love interest.

Friends were more important than a casual
fuck. He could get a casual fuck anywhere. Right now, his actions
affected two friends—Mac and Brett. He loosened his hold on Mac,
allowing her to put a few inches between them. She stared at him,
her lips still parted, and blinked several times, as if she
couldn’t believe her bad luck. Neither could he. What a fine time
for his sense of honor and decency to assert itself.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep my
boundaries.”

Mac’s disappointment was written all over
her flushed face, which was out of character. She usually had a
better poker face than that. She crossed her arms over her chest
and looked beyond him. “You’re not, really. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. We’re friends, and I’m not
the right guy for you.” Bruiser managed a half smile in an attempt
to downplay what had just
not
happened. “Now, Brett—there’s
a guy who could make a nice girl like you happy.”

“Brett?” She squinted at him, as if trying
to process his words.

“Yeah, Brett’s kinda interested.” His
statement had the desired effect of driving a wedge between them.
Bruiser stepped back, putting more distance between them physically
and emotionally. His arms dropped to his sides, feeling empty and
aching for her. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“In me?” She pointed at her chest, right at
her cleavage, and he bit back a groan.

“Sure is,” he managed, though he sounded
strangled. “Has been for a long time.”

“Isn’t he your best buddy on the team?” She
perched her cute ass on a rock wall and put her shoes back on, He
gaped at her shapely legs until she gazed up at him. Oh, God, he
wanted to bend her over the wall and kiss the hell out of her.

“Pretty much.”

“I know you can’t help but be your usual
jackass self, but if Brett’s interested, why were you hitting on
me?” Her accusation punched him below the belt, but his selfish
dick refused to give up its quest.

“Because I’m truly an ass. I apologize. It
won’t happen again. So will you?”

She stared up at him, hugging herself with
her arms, as if she were cold. “Will I what?”

“Go out with Brett?”

“I can’t answer that, since he’s never asked
me.”

An unexpected stab of jealousy caught
Bruiser completely off guard. Jealous? He hadn’t been jealous since
he caught CeCe flirting with the quarterback on his old college
team.
Damn
. He needed to screw his head on straight, abandon
his odd attraction to Mac, and go back to being a player, a role
he’d starred in since puberty. Only hooking up with anonymous women
didn’t hold its usual appeal.

And despite all his inner bullshit, he knew
the exact reason why.

* * * * *

Mac pushed herself off the stone wall and ran
for the bathroom in the pool house as fast as her killer shoes
would carry her without breaking an ankle. She didn’t look back
until she reached the bathroom door. A glance over her shoulder
revealed Bruiser standing alone near the dance floor staring at
her. Dang, uber-confident Bruiser looked adorably confused and
uncertain—a lethal combination.

Pushing the bathroom door open, Mac shut and
locked it. She rested her forehead against the cool tile wall until
her breathing returned to somewhat normal and her heart ceased
racing down the homestretch. Moving to the sink, she started to
splash some cold water on her face, then remembered her eyeliner
and mascara. Damn, but it sucked being a woman.

She stared at the stranger in the mirror and
had to admit she did look pretty damn good, which explained
Bruiser’s insane temporary infatuation with her. Kelsie and Co.
were miracle workers, not to mention Shanna and Eunice. She might
even ask Kelsie to show her how she applied Mac’s makeup earlier in
the day. Not that Mac could duplicate the finesse of a master, but
maybe she could manage without doing too much damage.

She was stalling. Applying makeup was the
least of her problems.

Mac’s head pounded harder than a drummer in
a hard-rock band.

Bruiser?

Brett?

First, Bruiser’s attention knocked her on
her ass, then Brett wanted to ask her out? She’d suspected that the
quiet backup quarterback might actually be interested in her even
though he never showed any outward signs. Brett was a nice guy, a
good-looking guy, the type of guy any decent woman with half a
brain would love to date. So why wasn’t she excited? This
stupid-assed crush she had on Bruiser would never amount to
anything. Hell, she so didn’t even want it to go anywhere. It was
just a safe, harmless crush.

Tonight something had changed between them,
and she was afraid they’d never go back to being casual friends.
Not that she had much time for even casual friends, not with her
brother missing and her father on the verge of a breakdown.

Why did things have to be so
complicated?

Steeling herself, Mac stood up straight and
strolled out of the bathroom as if she hadn’t a care in the world,
then stopped dead when she heard voices and her name was mentioned.
Holding her breath for fear of being caught, she stood there,
exposed to anyone who rounded the corner. Backpedalling, she
plastered herself against the wall behind a large potted plant.

“Really, Bruce, a gardener?” Veronica’s
bitchy voice dripped with disgust.

“She’s a groundskeeper and a damn good one.
Plus she knows her plants.” Her heart warmed at Bruiser’s defense
of her.

“If you needed a date for tonight, you
could’ve asked me. I would’ve set you up with any number of
appropriate females. She’s not in keeping with the image the team
expects you to portray.”

“Not the team, the image
you
expect
me to portray. Besides, I think she looks damn good.”

“That much was obvious. You were salivating
after her like a teenage boy at the prom with the head
cheerleader.” Veronica snickered. “She mows grass for a
living.”

“Seriously, Veronica, I can’t believe you’re
being such a bitch about this.”

“Bruce, you’re the face of our team. Women
worship you. Guys want to be you. You need to keep up that
image.”

Bruiser snorted. “First of all, who I choose
to spend time with is none of your business. Mac and I are friends.
She wanted to come here to show you another side of herself.”

“Oh, now I understand. This is pity
date.”

“I wanted to do this. Take some time to get
to know Mac better. She’s a hard worker and dedicated her job.”

“What are you, her campaign manager?”

Mac closed her eyes. This was so not going
well.

“She’s applying for the staff scholarship. I
want you to consider her.”

“The facilities director is endorsing Vince.
If he’s not convinced she’s the right choice, why would I override
his decision?”

“Mac’s the best person for that scholarship.
Her continued education would be a great benefit to the team.”

“And you know this how? It’s not like you’ve
mowed one blade of grass in your life.”

“Maybe I have.”

“Bruce, drop it. Forget doing her any favors
and go back to taking care of yourself. It’s what you do best.”
Veronica’s laugh taunted Mac, and Mac flexed her fingers, engaging
in a temporary fantasy involving wrapping them around Veronica’s
blue-blood throat.

“Veronica, just give her a chance. She’s
only a few years from her horticulture degree.”

“It might as well be light years. She’s too
young and not a good risk for the investment. I think she’s a
typical young woman looking to snag a rich, hot football player,
have babies, and…” Veronica’s voice faded away.

Holding her breath, Mac waited until their
voices blended with all the others. She rubbed a hand across her
queasy stomach. The tantalizing smell of salmon and prime rib did
nothing for her appetite. She was
not
a typical young woman,
which should have been blatantly obvious to Veronica if she’d ever
noticed Mac working at the facility. Obviously, she hadn’t.

Mac called for a taxi and started walking,
meeting the driver a few blocks away. Once she was safely in the
backseat, she tapped out a text message to Bruiser:
Not feeling
well. Didn’t want to ruin your night. I got a ride home. Please
enjoy the evening.

Somebody should.

Chapter 7

Despite it being a very bad idea, Bruiser
left the barbecue just before midnight and drove to Mac’s house.
Probably a little late to be paying a visit, but good sense had
deserted him for some damn reason.

Bruiser stepped out of his car and was on
the front porch in six long strides. He pounded on the thick wooden
door. “Come on, Mac, open the damn door.”

A few minutes later, Mac threw the door
open, looking more than little pissed and sexily rumpled, reminding
him of a woman who’d spent the night with her lover. Only she
hadn’t. At least he didn’t think so. He looked over her shoulder
but didn’t see anyone inside. Relief swept through him.

He liked her like this—not that he didn’t
like her all dressed up, too. This was
his
Mac. The real
Mac. Her face scrubbed free of makeup. Her flawless skin au
naturel. Her golden hair in a haphazard ponytail. Unlike the beauty
of earlier in the evening, he could handle this Mac. At least, he
hoped he could.

“What the hell do you want?” She rubbed her
eyes and glared at him.

He squinted into the bright porch light. “I
came to see if you’re okay.”
Lame, Mackey, really lame.

“Of course I’m okay. Now, good night.” She
tried to push the door shut.

He stuck his foot in it. “If you’re okay,
why did you leave the barbecue before dinner?”

“I wasn’t hungry.” She wouldn’t meet his
gaze.

Bruiser rolled his eyes, pushed his way
inside, and plopped down the couch. He glanced around the cozy
little living room and liked what he saw. Definitely a homey place,
the kind a guy would look forward to coming home to after a long
day at work. Neat and tidy without being overly so; the room didn’t
fit his image of Mac. In fact, he saw a woman’s touch reflected in
the attention to detail and the placement of the country-style
accessories. But then Mac
was
a woman, a fact of which he’d
been painfully reminded tonight.

Grabbing the remote, he switched to ESPN and
made himself at home, even though he hadn’t a clue why he was doing
it. He grinned, goaded by Mac’s annoyed expression. “Nice house.”
He gave her the once over and his gaze stalled out in the vicinity
of her tits. Holy fuck, she had a nice rack on her. Not that he
hadn’t noticed earlier, but hell, she’d traded in her party clothes
for a long, form-fitting tank top with no bra. Her nipples stood
out against the thin material, like they were happy to see him. He
sure as hell was happy to see them.