Calling It (15 page)

She gave a little snort of a laugh that shouldn’t have been cute but was ridiculously so. “He exaggerates.” But she was already working it; if she was even the least bit intimidated by the sheer power in the room, she didn’t give a hint of it.

It was clear Pete didn’t know what to make of it. What to make of her. But after an assessing look at Dorie, Pete just rolled up his sleeves and cracked his knuckles. “Deal the woman in.”

And Nate wasn’t wrong. By about three hands in, it was clear to everyone that Dorie was either very good at cards or “the luckiest chick on the planet,” according to a disgruntled Haney.

“Rather be lucky than good,” she murmured before laying down an ace-high flush, which irritated Haney even more.

She also, not surprisingly, had an amazing poker face, something Nate would have liked to know about several days ago. Watching her closely through the night—surreptitiously, of course—it was clear that the only tell she had was when she had a particularly hopeless hand. She’d bite her lip and roll her shoulders in a way that highlighted that beautiful rack of hers.

It was distracting enough that it took him a full two hours before realizing it was deliberate. And that it got more pronounced as Haney, who tended to be a bit of an ass when he was drunk, got more and more vocal with comments of the “little lady doesn’t belong” variety. Comments that had Nate ready to throw down with him then and there, although every time he even started to respond, he felt a swift kick to his shin, which was accompanied by a death glare from Dorie.

It turned him on more than a little bit. And as much as these guys were his friends, he had to admit that he wasn’t all that sympathetic to the ones who were falling for it. Not when they seemed to be fully okay with letting Haney’s comments slide. If they could take the heat on the field, then there was no excuse for not being able to take it here, no matter who was dealing it.

It wasn’t until the end of the night that it fully paid off. By this point—a little after 4:00 a.m.—it was down to Pete, Dorie, Nate and his friends. The pot was three thousand and change, the highest of the night, and she was biting her lip the whole way through. Since she’d taken enough of everyone’s money so far, no one had a problem raising on her despite the fact that every single one of them was good enough to know exactly what that lip-biting meant. They were going to crush her and they were fine with that.

So when she laid down a full house—”Aces full of tens, baby!”—you could literally hear the jaws drop.

“You are fucking
kidding
me,” Kozlowski said, throwing down his cards.

“Like my brothers always say, boys...” She leaned forward to pull in all her chips. “Never trust a pair of tits.”

Nate choked on his drink. Despite the lightness in her voice, she was clearly pissed. And not a little bit triumphant.

Rico, who up until that moment had been about to go home several thousand dollars richer, let out a tear of Spanish that Nate could barely follow—and that was after being schooled in the language by some of the best pitchers in the game. You didn’t have to speak Spanish to get an impression of what he was saying. But Dorie just gave a smile. A
whatever
kind of shrug. He should probably be frightened out of his mind. Should be, but wasn’t, which was something he had no intention of analyzing right now.

“That’s not a pair of tits,” Haney muttered. “That’s a wolf in chick’s clothing.”

“She played us,” Troy said, sitting back, with a glint of admiration. Use your opponent’s weakness and all that. Of course, he could afford to be generous, since he’d folded early on. He turned to Nate. “Your new girlfriend played us.”

As Haney finally loosened up and joined in on the conversation, Nate came to the realization that, fuck it all to hell, he really was in trouble. Especially because he realized he wasn’t nearly as interested in protecting her as he was in watching her take them all down. That he’d begun to consider her an equal in a way that only his teammates had ever been—an equal who had no interest or need for him to defend her.

“I’m not his girlfriend,” she’d muttered.

As the cards were put away and the conversation turned back to Dorie’s win, Nate took the cigar Pete handed him and smiled. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.” Unlike Dorie, he had no problem rubbing her win in their faces.

Dorie just shrugged as she stacked her chips. The sly smile she gave was only for him.

Pete, who had remained silent through all of this, held out a cigar. “Smoke?”

She looked at it and then at Pete, her eyes narrowing. Nate had no more idea of what exactly Pete was thinking than she did, although it probably ran along the lines of: this woman is going to take you to the cleaners and you’re not even going to care.

She shook her head. “Thank you, but no.”

Thank God. If she put one of those in her mouth and blew?

Then she stood and stretched, and he was pretty sure his head was going to explode. Both of them.

“I assume there’s a bed somewhere around here that I can crash on?” she asked.

“End of the hall, corner room,” Nate ground out. Christ.

She smiled and gave a mumbled, “Good night. It was really nice to meet all of you.”

They all just kind of smiled back at her, though some reluctantly. When she finally picked up her bag and disappeared out of sight—not acknowledging Nate in any particular way, incidentally, which he was trying not to let bother him—there was a collective exhale and then a moment of silence.

“
Dios mío
,” Rico finally muttered.

“Christ, Hawk, that woman scares me,” Kozlowski said, taking a drag on his cigar as he looked at the hallway Dorie had disappeared into. “Where did she come from?”

“And does she have any sisters?” Troy asked, setting off a round of comments that was increasingly vulgar, though that had never bothered Nate until tonight. And although the other guys were careful enough not to say anything about Dorie herself—you did not talk trash about a man’s woman and expect to get away with it—it reminded Nate that what he wanted with Dorie was unlike anything he’d ever wanted before.

He almost laughed. That thing about “the life” chewing her up and spitting her out? He and Wash couldn’t have been more wrong.

Unfortunately, his silence didn’t go entirely unnoticed. Troy was the one who called him on it, looking down the hallway after where Dorie had gone and then swinging his gaze toward Nate. “Holy Christ,” he said, his drink nearly spilling out of his hand. “You’re going to marry her, aren’t you?”

Nate knew he should laugh that off. And he didn’t need to look over at Pete to know why the man had been so quiet. But, hell if he didn’t get a rush just at the thought of her as his wife.

Not that he’d be giving that answer here tonight, of course. Hell, no.

“Dude,” Haney said. “Makes sense to keep her.”

God help him, if Dorie heard that.

“Shut up,” Rico muttered.

“What? Like he doesn’t already know what the guys are saying?” Haney went on as if Nate wasn’t in the room. And since Nate didn’t, actually—he didn’t generally listen to crap like that—he sat back and gestured for Haney to go on.

Which Haney did. “That you were on your way out. Even before the wreck. That your head hasn’t been in the game for a while now and that the Watchmen were crazy to sign you, because it was only a matter of time before you tanked.”

Knowing he didn’t want to end this night in a full-out brawl, Nate ground his teeth and decided not to kill the guy.

Ignoring the others’ glares, Haney tossed back the rest of his whiskey and then pointed right at Nate. “But, fuck, man. You’re back. You got me? You. Are. Fucking.
Back.
And if she’s why then you’d better fucking hold on.”

There was about ten seconds of silence before the entire table burst into laughter.

“Jesus Christ, Haney,” Troy said. “What the fuck are you on? He barely even won a hand tonight.”

Standing up and stretching, Haney just shook his head. “Because he spent the entire night with a hard-on.”

“Like you didn’t,” Kozlowski said, laughing as he pushed Haney toward the door.

Good thing everyone left after that, because Nate would have hit at least one of them soon.

He cleaned up whatever couldn’t wait until morning and walked through the condo back to the bedroom, turning lights off along the way. And he had to admit, Haney—crazy as he was—spoke some truth. Although his game hadn’t suffered—yet—signing with the Watchmen, a team he’d get to help build from the ground up, had been partly in hope of recapturing the joy and excitement again. Because it sure as hell had been fading.

But, yeah, something had changed in the short time since he had left Chicago on Tuesday night. Even his condo felt like a new place. He hadn’t even come back here after that dinner because he pretty much hated it. Thanked God it was just a sublet through June. But now, after a night that would probably rank up there in his Top Five for a very long time—with the knowledge that Dorie was in his bed—it felt like home.

Dorie hadn’t even bothered to change. She’d just stepped out of her jeans and then crawled under the covers. After stripping out of his own clothes, he climbed in next to her, nudging her over. “You’re on my side,” he whispered into her neck.

Rather than move over, she pushed back into him—not helpful. “
My
side,” she mumbled back.

They were clearly going to have some conversations if he managed to talk her into letting this be more than a temporary thing. He did just have one much more immediate thing he needed to clear up, however. “That, uh... That thing you were saying about the Pill...?”

Her body went tense for the most fleeting of moments and then relaxed. “Right,” she said. “I was meaning to talk to you about that.” She turned in his arms so that she was facing him. Did
not
look him in the eyes as she trailed her finger down his chest. “I mean, I know it’s crazy to think you’d take my word for it. And it’s not like it makes sense since this is such a short-term thi—”

“It’s not a short-term thing,” he interrupted, his hand running up the back of her leg. Goddamn he loved the way her breath hitched.

Undaunted, she continued, “And it’s really just about sex—”

“It’s not just about sex,” he snapped, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice on that one.

She ignored that, too, saying, “But I’ve never been with a guy without a condom,” as her arm snaked down between them and she took him firmly in hand. “And I’d really like for that to be different with you.” Then she started to play.

Oh, fuck. Sweet Jesus, fucking
fuck
. He grabbed on to her shoulder. How did she do that? Although, no, he didn’t want the answer to that question, because she’d clearly had some practice.

“And you?” she whispered as she feathered kisses down his throat. “All clean, right? I mean...” Her mouth was traveling across his collarbone. She threw her leg over his and pushed up so she was straddling his thighs, stroking him the whole time. “I’m assuming that would have been headline news by now if you weren’t.”

A laugh escaped even as his eyes rolled toward the back of his head. How was it possible she could make him laugh right now? About something that usually made his blood run cold, no less. “Yes,” he gasped. “For some reason—” Oh,
shit
, she was throwing in some tongue. “—they didn’t want—”
Fuck
. Taking him into her mouth. “—that in the press—” Taking him all the way to the back of her throat. Sweet
Jesus
, fuck. “—
release
.”

She did something then that nearly blew him out of his mind. He managed to keep control, but only because there was no way in hell he was coming until they were doing this bareback.

And then her mouth was abruptly gone.

Her head came up, sexy as sin—hair wild, lips full and puffy and red, eyes anime-worthy wide. “Did you just make a joke?” On hands and knees, she stalked up the length of his body looking so fucking hot that the beast inside him wanted to roar. He almost started panting like a goddamn dog.

Poised above him—so close he could feel her heat—she held still as he yanked her T-shirt over her head, as he nearly tore her panties in two. “Pretty risky move, making me laugh when I have you in my mouth.”

That’s
what that was? He would have laughed again if the entire future of mankind didn’t depend on him grabbing her by the hips and yanking her down over him and, oh, fuck,
yesssss
, driving into her tight, wet heat. He wasn’t sure who took who after that, just that it was hard, fast and so damn perfect that it almost brought him to tears.

Or maybe that was because of the look in her eyes—hell, yes, she was falling just as hard as he was—right after she came. She shut it down quickly, reaching up for a quick kiss before turning around and resting back against him.

Short-term?

Only about the sex?

Hell the
fuck
no.

He wrapped his arms around her and fell asleep.

Chapter Seventeen

The sun wasn’t nearly high enough in the sky when Nate woke up. He should have felt worse than he did; his head should have been pounding. But he didn’t and it wasn’t. There was only one thing throbbing and for only one reason.

Waking up with her was everything he’d dreamed it would be.

Literally. It felt like the second his eyes closed, he was caressing her. Shifting her hair off her shoulders, kissing the back of her neck as he ran his hand down her arm, over her hip, the smooth skin of her thigh...

She’d just called his name when his eyes flew open and he realized that the sun was out. That she was actually wearing a T-shirt that she must have pulled on at some point during the night and that her back was still to him. But that he was buried deep inside her.

“
Nate
,” she whispered as she angled her hips, pulsing around him from within.

He tried to wait. He didn’t want to take her like this, without fully knowing if she was as wet and ready as she seemed or if that was still just part of the dream. But then, trembling, her hand found the back of his thigh, clenching him as she gasped. Her body clamped down around him as he kissed the base of her neck.

That was all it took. He exploded into her, rocked as she shattered around him. He grabbed the headboard, desperate for something to ground him, to keep from taking flight. When she reached up and closed her hand around his, though—fell back against him with a low moan—he was lost. It wasn’t just that he’d
begun
to fall, it was signed and sealed: he’d fallen full in love with her. In a matter of days.

He pulled her closer and dropped his head, wanting to breathe her in; overcome by a hunger from so deep inside that it took his breath away. “You’re killing me,” he finally managed to say.

“I know,” she said, stretching out languorously like a purring, satisfied cat. “I’m sorry. I even contemplated the can-you-help-me-in-the-kitchen quickie last night but it didn’t seem the time. And, uh, I probably would have gotten lost trying to find the kitchen.”

Right. Because she was insisting it was sex only, short-term. This was seriously beginning to bug him.

But before he could say anything about it, she slapped him on the leg. “Now leave me alone and let me get some sleep.” She pulled the covers up over her shoulder. “Gotta rest up for the next time,” she said dreamily.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep himself, but it was pretty much useless and he decided to take a shower instead. He was dressed and contemplating what to make Dorie for breakfast when he realized that he hadn’t left the keys to the Porsche at the desk.

“
Damn
it.” The thing he’d specifically come back to Chicago for and he’d forgotten entirely.

He slammed the refrigerator door and turned. And almost had a coronary as he took an involuntary step back. Holy
shit.
“Courtney.”

“Hi, baby,” she said, walking toward him. She didn’t seem angry. He didn’t think that was a good thing.

“Uh, hi,” he answered instinctively. And then asked, “What are you doing here?” when his brain caught up. The last time he’d seen her was a few days after the crash. She’d come into his hospital room, told him her assistant had found him a place to live and was having his stuff moved out of their town house that day. That was it. If she thought she was having a come-to-Jesus talk with him now she was seriously mistaken.

His eyes slid over to the pass-through. He was so busy looking for escape routes that he didn’t see the glint in her eye until she was right in front of him. “I was thinking...” she said, slowly unbuttoning her coat. Shrugging it off slowly and revealing lingerie underneath.

Jesus. “Are you
kidding
?” he asked, amazed at how evenly he managed, given she was now standing there in nothing but black lace—complete with stockings, garters and stiletto heels.

A flash of irritation flitted through her eyes, but it was gone by the time she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I should think it’s obvious that I’m not.” She started to brush her lips over his jaw.

He quickly disentangled her arms and set her away from himself. Looking down, he felt oddly unaffected. She was beautiful, yes. With her deep blue eyes and ash-blond hair up in a twist, she had a Grace Kelly vibe about her—with the body of a Victoria’s Secret model and the mouth of a porn star. Yet he felt nothing, not even as she trailed her hand down his chest. He figured that might have something to do with the fact that he’d been having sex for the better part of the past twenty-four hours, and that Dorie had pretty much...

Well, shit. And now he was hard again. Just at the thought of her name. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“Well that’s what I’m trying to do,” Courtney said, exasperated, “but it’s taking you a while to cooperate.”

Before he could stop her she reached down the front of his pants. “So,” she continued as if they hadn’t broken up badly two months before. “I think we made a mistake.”

He was trying to figure out how to tell her that she wasn’t actually the woman he was hard for when her words hit him. He grabbed her hand and removed it, then took her by the waist and set her away—again. “
We?
”

She looked up at him for a minute, considering her response. Which, apparently, was to go for the buttons instead. She jutted her chest forward, making sure that the skin spilling out over the cups of her bra brushed his arms. “Yes, Nate. We. We’re two incredibly intelligent—and ridiculously attractive—people. We make more sense together than we do apart.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have
fucked
my best friend,” he replied, vehemently, as he latched on to her wrist and attempted to—

“Um, hi. Hello.”

Courtney’s head whipped around at the same speed as Nate’s did. Shit. Well at least Courtney’s hand was no longer down his pants. But when he started to step away, she just grabbed the waistband and held on.

Without acknowledging him at all, Dorie came into the kitchen, her hand out to introduce herself to Courtney—just as she’d done with Pete last night. Except then she happened to notice where Courtney’s hand was and she stopped short. Her face went a little pale and she jerked her hand back. “Right. Never mind.”

Eyes traveling from Nate to Dorie and then back again, Courtney seemed amused. “Who’s this?”

Afraid to make any sudden moves, Nate very carefully made the introductions. “Dorie, Courtney. And, uh, vice versa.” Christ.

Completely unconcerned that she was standing in nothing but very skimpy underwear, Courtney gave Dorie the kind of up and down once-over that, Nate had seen firsthand, had grown men quaking. Dorie, however, seemed entirely unperturbed.

Not only unperturbed, she actually smiled and said, “Wow. You are beautiful. Seriously
beautiful
.”

Honestly? That was her response? Not even a little hint of jealousy?

And not because of the beautiful thing, which Courtney was. But Dorie was, too. And he was coming to realize that what he’d had with Courtney was an alliance, whereas what he had with Dorie was...

Goddamn it. It was nothing right now because she refused to believe otherwise.

He got it. He really did. If he hadn’t had something to compare it to, he probably would have felt the same way she did. But,
shit
, at the very least, he would have given it a chance.

Aw,
fuck
.

No, if the places were reversed, he probably wouldn’t have. But now that he recognized it, he wasn’t about to let it go.

“So,” Dorie said, coughing a little to clear her throat. “Does anyone want breakfast?”

“Courtney isn’t staying,” he said to Dorie, glaring. Then he turned his glare to Courtney. “She’s leaving as soon as I get her the keys.”

“
What?
” Courtney snapped. “You can’t seriously...” She looked back at Dorie with a combination of disbelief and disdain. “She’s just the rebound girl.”

Nate didn’t even look over to see Dorie’s reaction. He didn’t doubt that was one of the things she was telling herself.

“I’m entirely serious,” he answered, looking directly into Courtney’s eyes.

She stepped back, her gaze never leaving his even as her eyes widened. This thing with Dorie was different; something he’d never felt with Courtney. Having them both here in the same room only drove home that point. And Courtney wasn’t an idiot. She was, in fact, one of the smartest women Nate knew. The flicker of emotion in her eyes as the understanding came over her was the first sign he’d ever seen that what she felt for him might actually be something close to love.

Dorie, on the other hand, just narrowed her eyes, then rolled them. She came all the way into the kitchen and brushed by both of them on her way to the fridge, where she opened the door and took out the orange juice. “Listen to her, Nate. You make a lot of sense together.”

A
lot more than we do
, she didn’t add, though it was clearly in her voice. Even Courtney gave a little snort at that.

He reached into the cabinet and handed Dorie a glass. “Really?”

Not at all happy to have been shut out of, well, everything, Courtney straightened out her coat with a loud snap and put it back on. While buttoning it up, she said, “We have some things to discuss. I’m free for dinner tomorrow night.”

Whatever was going through Dorie’s head right now—and Nate was aware he wasn’t coming off in a favorable light—she wasn’t about to let Courtney call the shots, which was...interesting.

“Uh-uh,” she snapped, probably something Courtney had never in her life heard. “You can catch up when pitchers and catchers report. That’s when he goes back to his old life.”

Pitchers and catchers. Less than three weeks. “Good to know,” he murmured.

Dorie frowned, realizing she’d just given him her end date. He didn’t like it, but now he knew. Realizing Courtney had no idea what they were talking about, he added, “February thirteenth.” And he was going to make every minute count.

“Fine.” Courtney pulled her gloves on with a snap. “And just leave the keys at the desk. I’ll have someone pick them up.” Then she whirled around and walked out. The door slammed shut a few seconds later.

“Well,” Dorie said at that point. She raised her eyebrows, drained her glass, and then put it in the sink. “Beautiful. Seriously.”

Nate opened his mouth to respond, but she held up her hand and said, “Don’t.” She grabbed the edge of the counter. Not meeting his eyes, she said, “I don’t play games, not like that. And I’m not about to be a pawn in yours.”

No.
He stepped toward her, stopping only because she went rigidly still as he got close. “You’re not a pawn,” he answered, wanting so badly to take her into his arms, yet knowing that was the exact wrong move. “I want to make you my damn
queen
.”

When her head came up, there were tears glistening in her eyes and for once she didn’t deny what he said. It just turned out that had been the wrong move, too.

“But that’s the problem, Nate. I don’t want to be the queen of your world. I want to be the king of mine.”

Well, shit. She’d rendered him speechless for, possibly, the first time in his entire life. Or, actually, not the first time, since she’d tied up his tongue that first night, too. Goddamn he was fucked.

She mistook his silence for capitulation. “See?” she said, smiling despite the sadness in her eyes. “It’s so much easier if it’s just about sex.”

“It’s not—” he started to say, but she cut him off by peeling off her shirt—no bra—and dropping it.

“The really...” she said, lowering the PJ pants—cotton panties again, neon pink—and stepping out of them.

“...good...”

She kicked them to the side.

“...sex.”

Nate let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I know what you’re doing,” he said, trying to take the high road as she hitched herself onto the counter. “We’re not done talking.”

With an evil smile, she merely grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him to her.

His brain went fuzzy as his dick surged forward to take the lead. “Fuck,” he muttered yet again. Then her hand dropped down and all bets were off.

* * *

Was there anything the man wasn’t good at? Dorie honestly didn’t know how she could walk, much less run nine miles, yet here they were on mile two and she was on such a high from all that amazing sex she’d been having that she felt like she could go ten times that without breaking a sweat.

“Are we going to talk about this?”

She glanced up as he ran next to her, which was something she’d been trying very hard not to do. She still wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing here.

He misunderstood her silence. Rolling his eyes, he said, “Are you going to tell me I think like a girl again?”

She wasn’t, but that would be as good an excuse as any. She shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

And there wasn’t. That was doubly clear after last night as the men in his world had closed ranks around him—supporting him, reclaiming him. And then Courtney, of course, pulling him back to the land of
Nate Hawkins
, and reminding Dorie that the Nate of this fantasy didn’t truly exist. That even if it did, guys like him did not get all hot and bothered for women who meant what they said when they threw out words like king.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t determined to enjoy the rest of the weekend.

“How about we start with Courtney?” he asked, as if putting small-town librarian Dorie in the same category as a trust fund heiress slash morning news anchorwoman made sense—which it didn’t. She knew that, Courtney knew that, everyone in the hemisphere knew that; it was only Nate who didn’t seem to.

Though she felt his glance she didn’t look up to meet it.

“So it didn’t bother you that she basically had her hand down my pants when you walked in.”

Dorie’s cheeks flushed and she found herself running faster. Of course it had bothered her. It had been a slap in the face. But Dorie wasn’t going to tell him that. “If I were her and I’d done what she did to you and was trying to get you back, then I’d probably be putting my hands down your pants, too.”