Dare To Love Series: Hot Dare (Kindle Worlds Novella) (6 page)

“Whatever.” She shrugged. “Let
’
s just get this over with.”

She gave a nod to the ship
’
s onboard comedian who was acting as gameshow host for what was going to be one of the most hellish forty-five minutes of her life. The pulleys creaked as the stagehands opened the heavy curtain, much to the crowd
’
s appreciation.

“Thunder ladies and Thunder gentleman, are you ready?” the comedian asked.

The audience clapped and stomped their feet.

“Welcome to dirty charades!”

Angie
’
s jaw hit the floor.
No. Just no.

Colt chuckled. “Looks like I wasn
’
t the only one who didn
’
t read every word in the contract.”

If he only knew how true the stories were about a Cuban woman
’
s temper, he would be guarding his cajones right about now.

Chapter Five

Angie
’
s
day had started with dirty charades and ended ten hours later with a Thunder fans signed-jersey auction to raise funds for the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation. She was ready to hit the floor like a wet rag, but she couldn
’
t go without making sure Colt was settled in his new VIP room. As his official team liaison for the cruise, it was her responsibility.
Keep telling yourself that, Angie girl.

The room was huge compared to hers, but on a cruise ship that wasn
’
t saying a whole lot. He had a big balcony, upgraded electronics and a bed big enough for six. Her gaze settled on the pristine white comforter, with its sea-blue decorative pillows and headboard made for hanging on to, and her heart sped up. She could barely hear her mental alarm bells going off over the blood rushing in her ears. Coming in here had been a very good bad idea, but she needed to bounce before it became a very naked bad idea.

Colt came up behind her, not touching but close enough she could wrap his sandalwood-and-soap scent around her like a blanket—a tempting comfort she couldn
’
t afford to crave. She turned, coming face to chest with him. He held out a filled champagne flute, alive with tiny bubbles.

“
I don’
t know.” Yes, she did. She should say no and leave while she still could instead of flipping off the fates like the heroine in a bad horror movie who just had to check out the old Smith house by herself at midnight.

“Please. The ship
’
s captain was nice enough to move me into an open cabin and send me the champagne to make up for the whole groupie-security-breach thing.” He walked to the sliding glass doors and gestured toward the balcony beyond. The sound of the waves lapping lazily against the ship filtered through the open doors, along with the salt-air scent that would forever remind her of this trip. “Don
’
t make me drink it by myself. I might fall off the balcony. That would ruin your chances of getting that promotion. Really, I
’
m doing you a favor.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “You
’
re so full of shit.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders and raised the champagne glass in a toast. “But I
’
m great on my feet, as proven by the charade game playing.”

“Who are you kidding?” Against her better judgment, she joined him on the cusp of the balcony and pretended to take in the full moon
’
s reflection on the midnight-blue water, but all she could concentrate on was the frisson of awareness that unsettled her whenever she was within three feet of him. “The fan team killed us.”

He adjusted his stance so his large biceps brushed against her shoulder and his thigh was within millimeters of touching her. Not that it made a difference. His nearness was as tangible as a touch.

“Is it my fault you didn
’
t get
‘lingerie model
’
from my runway strut?” he asked.

“That
’
s what that was? I thought you were demonstrating having,” she coughed, “something up your butt.”

“If this is how the conversation is going to go, I need a drink.” He held out the champagne glass to her again and his deep voice lost its light teasing tone. “Stay. Please.”

He wasn
’
t asking as the egomaniacal football player she
’
d dealt with up until they
’
d bonded over dirty charades. He wasn
’
t asking as the dude playing in Vegas by that town
’
s rules who
’
d rocked her world and wrung her out with pleasure.

He
’
d made her laugh at charades, kept smiling through the hours of signing for fans and listened to each Thunder Dome Crew super fan
’
s story of what his stats would be if he hadn
’
t broken his ankle. She didn
’
t know this guy in front of her, but she wanted to.

Weren
’
t those the famous last words of every girl who ever thought she saw something in a man that no one else did, some secret side he revealed only for her? Logically she knew all that, but it didn
’
t matter.

She accepted the champagne, their fingers brushing and sending sparks across her skin. “One drink.”

“Whatever you say.” Colt led the way out onto the balcony, taking the lounge chair farthest from the door.

Settling in on the chair beside him, Angie took a sip of effervescent courage. “If this gets weird, I
’
m out of here.”

“Sit, look at the stars, forget about the rest of the ship for a while. You
’
re on a cruise and I bet you haven
’
t even looked out at the water yet.”

“Now that
’
s the pot calling the kettle black.” Another sip and the bubbles tickled her nose as she watched the stars sparkle above them, brighter than they ever looked in Miami even on the darkest night.

“Only because you
’
re such a hard-nosed task master.” He clinked his glass against hers. “If the promotion thing doesn
’
t work out, you should talk to Coach Carter. He
’
d love your approach.”

They sat, relaxed in each other
’
s company, as one glass turned into three and the soothing sound of the ocean washed away the barriers between them. Angie felt them erode with each story about the prank wars during the Thunder training camp and her explanations of the many dating profiles her mother insisted on creating and monitoring for her.

“Sorry I threatened to throw you overboard,” she said.

He cut his eyes at her. “You didn
’
t.”

“
Oops.
” She giggled. “I must have said it only in my head.”

“It wouldn
’
t be the first time someone threatened to knock some sense into my thick skull,” he said. “My dad was the master of getting just what he wanted using only a look.”

“That
’
s a good trick. For me it
’
s my mom. That woman gets an idea in her head and I
’
m helpless to shake it back out. I guess all mothers are like that though.”

He shook his head, his lips forming a tight, straight line. “Wouldn
’
t know, my mom disappeared early on in my life.”

“Disappeared?”

“Meth.” Colt stared straight out past the balcony, but there was no way he was seeing the ocean
’
s gentle waves. Whatever image had grabbed ahold of him was darker than the ocean at its deepest depths.

She reached for him, but he stood from his chair before she could make contact and he began to pace the small balcony, every step rigid with suppressed emotion. “I
’
m sorry.”

He shrugged then downed the rest of his champagne in one gulp. “She
’
s still out there.” He palmed the empty glass and drew back his arm as if he was about to fling it over the edge, but at the last moment set the flute down on the small table next to her chair. “My pops hears from her every once in a while. Usually when she
’
s doing the Narconon during her latest stint in jail and is at the apology step.”

Colt stood next to her, a giant block of a man, so hard and yet vulnerable. He didn
’
t ask for comfort. She doubted he even knew how.

“And after that call?” The question hung in the air between them like a poisoned balloon with a leak. Her heart ached for him. Her mom was a handful, to put it mildly, but at least she was there. She reached up and slipped her fingers between his and tugged him down to sit beside her. “What about your dad?”

“He taught me everything I know.” He lay back on the chaise, somehow angling his muscular frame so there was enough room for both of them to lay beside each other, and wrapped an arm around her, bringing her in tight against him.

Heat radiated between them, but not like in Vegas. That had been mindless passion…attraction…lust…there were a thousand different names for it. This was different. It squeezed her lungs tight, making it hard to breathe because it took up so much space. The desire that always raged between them was there like the tip of an iceberg, but underneath the waterline there was so much more to it, and it scared her out of her mind.

“If it wasn
’
t for Pops,
” he went on, “I wouldn
’
t be in the league, and without that I wouldn
’
t be anything but another poor kid living in a doublewide in Nowheresville, Alabama.”

She turned so they were face-to-face on the lounge chair, the position allowing them for once to see eye to eye. “You
’
re wrong. Even if you were still in the doublewide, you
’
d still be someone amazing. Circumstances don
’
t make the man.” She held up her glass. “To your pops.”

“To Pops.” He picked up his glass and clinked her's with his empty one. “And to you, Angie Diaz. I don
’
t think even Pops could have gotten me out on that stage. We make a good team.”

They did. They could. The possibility was too much to consider. “I need to go.”

“Stay.” He took her glass and placed it with his on the table.

“That
’
s not a good idea.” Which is exactly why she should be getting up and walking out the door instead of basking in the easy goodness of his fingers resting against the small of her back.

Colt tipped his head closer, resting his forehead against hers. “Why?”

“I know how this story ends.” Her voice shook. “I
’
ve heard it often enough from the other girls in the Thunder front office.”

He brushed a kiss against her temple. “How does it go?”

Hardening herself against his soft seduction, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to remember Shonda
’
s and Patrice
’
s and Mandi
’
s faces as they
’
d recounted their stories of heartbreak. They were always the same.

“Girl meets football player. Girl falls for football player. Football player dumps girl. Girl drowns her sorrows in cheap wine and double-fudge ice cream. Entire front office knows and girl becomes fodder for gossip instead of key candidate for promotion.”

Feather-light, he trailed his fingers up the side of her thigh, over her hip and to the small of her waist. The rest of her body disappeared. The only thing she could feel was burning desire he left in his wake.

“And did any of those stories involve me?” His continued his journey up the outside of her arm and over her shoulder.

“No.” God, even forming the single word was too much for her.

“Sounds to me like you
’
re judging a book by the other ones on the shelf next to it.” He buried his fingers in her thick hair and tipped her face up so she had to look at him.

Want, need and something more darkened his blue eyes with such intensity that she should have turned to ash under his gaze.

“I can rationalize Vegas as an amazing once-in-a-lifetime experience. I can
’
t rationalize a second time.” And she was beginning to doubt she
’
d survive it.

“You don
’
t have to rationalize what you want, Angie.” He kissed her, soft and insistent. “You just have to go for it.” Another kiss, this one harder, as if he was at the point of no return. “And you want me just as much as I want you.”

She pushed against his chest lightly until he eased back. The need to see his face right now and gauge the fallout superseded everything else. “Don
’
t make me regret this.”

“That is something I
’
d never do.” He picked up her hand off his chest and kissed the center of her palm. “Stay.”