Game On! (Seaside Heat) (15 page)

GiGi waved from the kitchen. Her hair, bounced in a ponytail near the top of her head. “Thought you could use some comfort food after practice. Dugan’s getting more beer.”

“Thanks, but don’t you need to be working on your show?” He dropped his gear bag on one of the barstools.

She grinned and handed him a beer. “A friend of mine from New York is coming to help.”

“I’m sorry, GiGi. Jordan bailed on you because of me.” He should have never drawn her into the matter.

“I gave you bad advice. She got mad at me because I sided with you and told her she was behaving like a drama queen. She’s gotten over it and will be modeling at the show.”

“Doubt that’ll help me.” He sipped his brew and told GiGi what she’d said to him at practice.

“Great, she knows you’re still in the area. She’ll come around. Start seeing some teachers in your school. Word will get back to her.” Her dainty eyebrow arched in an evil curve.

“And I’d be a bigger dick than I already am.”

Planting a platter of antipasto on the bar, she handed him a fork and appetizer plate. “You’ve apologized. More than once. She’s playing defense now. When she realizes you’ve quit running the ball, she’ll start pursuing you.

He scooped some olives, mushrooms and peppers onto his plate. Maybe she was right. His appetite returned.

* * * *

Jordan’s plate twirled in the microwave. Damn, Heath looked a bit tired. Because of her? God, she missed him. Her chest ached.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Her dad sat at the kitchen table with a slice of cherry pie and a cup of coffee.

“Am I like Mom?” She fidgeted with her fork waiting for the timer.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t have many friends.” Neither did Jordan.

He smiled sadly. “She’s selective.”

“GiGi said I push everyone away who cares about me.”

Her dad rubbed his chin. “I’m guessing GiGi sided with Heath on whatever your fight was about?”

She walked over and sat then explained about running into Branscome.

“He cares about you, honey.” He patted her hand. “Evidently, he wanted to protect you. He couldn’t control who bought or owned the team.”

“He didn’t have to hide it from me.” She returned to the counter and punched open the microwave door.

“I suspect he only hoped to spare you more hurt and now you’ve treated him like he intentionally wounded you. What if when he got hurt, the doctor told you he should never play again? Would you have told him that right away or given him time to heal before he could deal with the diagnosis?”

There it was. Plain and simple, but hurt had twisted her heart making her suspect everyone. Her father always had a way of cutting through the bullshit without judging her. She sat next to him and played with her food. “Okay, I get it.”

“He’s taken a job here. You’d mentioned he was only here for the season, but that doesn’t hold true any longer. If you didn’t care about him, you wouldn’t still care that he kept something from you.” He sipped his coffee.

He always saw right through her.

Jordan debated texting him, but a personal apology seemed more appropriate. Then again, he might not even care after she’d refused to accept his. During the school week, she searched the practice fields for Heath. The weekend and GiGi’s fashion show were upon her, but she hadn’t found him.

Maybe GiGi had some insight to Heath’s current feelings. It’d be better to know before she got her hopes up if nothing could be salvaged. Rushing into the convention center, Jordan sped along the glass-front atrium where huge trees nearly touched the vaulted ceiling. Finally reaching the last two meeting rooms joined for the show, she slowed. A tall, dark-haired man in a tux held the door for her. Dugan.

“Sorry, the bridge opened.”

He slid an arm over her shoulder. “She’s too frazzled to know you’re missing yet. Dressing rooms are to the back on the right, behind the curtain.” He gave her a catty smile.

“Thanks.” She picked up speed. Maybe he hoped she’d fall on her ass. Careful not to trip in the low lighting, she made her way around the seats and to the curtains and changing area.

He nearly blended into the draping.

She froze. Perspiration broke out along her spine. “Heath.”

“Jordan.” His eyes danced in amusement. The tux jacket squared his broad shoulders to perfection. The man could be on the cover on GQ Magazine.

Heat washed over her. Longing escaped her lips in a rush of breath. Lord help her.

He gave her a half smile.

Her hand took on a mind of its own and stroked his lapel. “So handsome.” The words slipped from her lips in a stream of unconscious thought. Jerking back, she caught her blunder. “Sorry I’m so late.”

He drew the curtain aside. “Relax, she hasn’t noticed.” His lazy tone soothed her.

“Thanks. How’s the team doing?” Her stubborn side resisted apologizing. The right words escaped her.

“We’re three and two so far.” He shrugged.

She took a deep breath and let her heart speak. “I’m sorry for blaming you for everything. I—”

“Forget it.” His mouth thinned to a line.

Too little, too late. Jordan bowed her head. Unable to bear his scrutiny, she swept past him.

Models chatted outside of the changing area. “Hey, is Dugan’s friend going to the after party?” A young blonde flipped her silky, straight hair.

“Don’t know, but GiGi said she told him to move on from whatever happened this summer.”

Jordan slipped past them, growing more familiar with the carpet pattern by the second.
You get what you give.

GiGi flew out of nowhere, slinging an arm around her neck before herding her behind another curtain. Several clothing racks held the model’s attire for the show. She’d be undressing among the skinnies, like she wasn’t already intimidated enough.

“How do you like my doormen?”

“The penguins. Yeah, they’re great.”

“Did you apologize to the hunky one with blue eyes?”

“Yep. I got nothing. Deserving, I suppose.” She pretended to flick lint from her sleeve. The night couldn’t end fast enough.

GiGi handed her a dress, started to leave then turned. “He was probably stunned. Didn’t know what to say.”

“Word around here is you told him to bugger off whatever bitch messed with him. Deny it, my friend.” Jordan slipped off her shoes.

“Pfff.” Her bangs sprang off her forehead from the rush of air. “Get dressed. My friend from New York has a buyer coming to my show. This could be my break.”

Jordan tugged on a form-fitting sweater dress and stepped into the sling-back shoes beneath where the dress had hung. Great, she could lose her best friend to the Big Apple. Not that she didn’t want GiGi to succeed, but it only emphasized Jordan’s stagnation. Where had she gone off the track? Becoming involved with a married man hadn’t helped, but even before that she’d been floundering with no direction.

With Heath, she’d dared to envisioned the what-ifs but ultimately filed them away as fantasies. She’d royally fucked up. Now her bestie promoted his wares to her models.

Before long, the tall blonde and other models filed in to change into their outfits. They undressed and chatted about how they’d starved for the last week and the available hunk waiting outside the dressing area. If jealousy were a visible emotion, Jordan would have matched the green aliens in the movies.

As their audience arrived, mumbling turned into a low hum. Heavy beats of an old tune by Black Box rose above the chatter as Jordan’s stomach tightened. Showtime.

She followed the other girls to where GiGi waited. Breaking a leg seemed closer to a reality than a term of luck as Jordan headed for the catwalk. She pasted on the demure smile she’d been taught to wear.

Jordan stepped onto the runway, blinded by the lights. Over the microphone, the MC introduced her by her first name and described her outfit as she strutted along the platform. Hating to be in the limelight, she switched into autopilot.

* * * *

Her apology had caught Heath off guard. Hurt had turned him into an unaccepting dick. He took advantage of her vulnerability. He’d reached for her hand, but she’d already started for the dressing area.

The music began and he stepped far enough from his station to view the show. Jordan hit the runway. A clingy dress curved over her hips and accented her ass. A real woman. Not one who lived on salads and worried over every ounce. Her fixed smile didn’t reach her smoky shadowed eyes, but damn if she didn’t look sexy as hell.

He wavered between indignation and needful lust as each outfit revealed more of her. A dress with no back reminded him of kisses he’d planted there and lower. Her willing response to every sexual challenge he’d issued during their summer game had only heightened his desire. If she’d accepted his second face-to-face apology at the field, even if she’d needed more time, he would have been receptive to her. Tonight, the stubborn side of him fought knuckling under.

“Go up front and watch, bro.” Dugan stepped next to him. “I got this.”

“I’m good here.”

Dugan raised a brow. “GiGi said you two talked.”

“Not really.”

“Come on. You’ve been pining for weeks.”

“When we arrived in Virginia Beach, you told me to have fun and not go down the same road as I did with Sandy. Now you say suck it up, cuz she’s your woman’s best friend?”

“No, dumb ass, because you’re in love with her as much as she is with you.”

Shit.

After the show, Heath helped Dugan man the door to the small reception room while the staging crew disassembled the runway. Once guests were inside and the models there to entertain, they set to loading clothing racks into the rental truck. He entered the dressing area for the last rack and found Jordan holding up a glittery purple gown. “Is that the one you’re taking home?”

She barely spared him a glance. “I think I’d get more use out of the black one.”

In either one she’d look hot as fuck. “Quit rationalizing things and go for what you want, Jordan.”

The dark eyeshadow enhanced her amber eyes as they bore into him. “Sometimes it hurts less.”

“I didn’t mean…” He stepped closer and reached for her hand.

“Heath! Let’s go.” Dugan motioned to him from the back door. We gotta get this stuff to GiGi’s and get back to the after party.”

Jordan nodded and smiled. “I gotta go, too. GiGi wants me to mingle at the reception.” She grabbed her purse and walked away looking hot as hell in the sleek black slacks and white halter top.

He rolled the clothes rack outside and helped Dugan lift it into the back. With everything loaded, he lowered the rear door, latched it, and climbed in the cab.

“Did you two hash things out?” Dugan shoved the rental into gear.

“You didn’t give me time.” Not willing to continue the discussion, he turned on the radio.

“Let her sweat, thinking you’re going to the party to meet the long-legged blonde who’s been eyeing you all night.”

“She’s barely eighteen.”

After a silent ride, Dugan pulled into GiGi’s driveway. “You coming?”

Partying didn’t fit his mood. “I’m going home to get out of this monkey suit and watch what’s left of the college games.”

He’d hoped to clear the air with Jordan. Maybe she’d go to the party. No. He’d offered twice already. Unless she sought him out, he was done.

“Text me if you want me to send the blonde your way. I’m sure she’d drive out to Sandbridge for some
tight end
.” Dugan laughed and drove off.

Heath unlocked his Jeep, belted in and put the windows down. The crisp night air revived him. He called his favorite pizza place. The phone toned during the call. Afterward, a text from Jordan appeared on the screen.

Going to the after party?

He texted back, unwilling to change his plans.
Picking up pizza and headed home to watch the rest of today’s games.

He turned the key and hit the start. Another text bubble appeared on his phone.

Alone?

He wanted to say no.
Yes.

I could bring some brews if you want.

Sure.
He shifted into drive. Could they reconcile after this? Reservation tightened his gut.

Jordan arrived at the beach house first. She parked on the far side of his double driveway. She hadn’t expected him to ditch the after party, especially with the models trolling for him.

With a stomach full of butterflies, she popped a top on a beer. Whatever happened tonight shouldn’t matter. They weren’t supposed to be anything but a game. How had she’d fallen for him? She missed him, his easygoing manner, thoughtfulness and, yes, his protective nature, not to mention the mind-blowing sex.

Headlights lit the interior of her car before the sleek, black Jeep pulled next to her. He walked around and opened her door. Would she have been so affected if he hadn’t been dressed in a tuxedo emphasizing his hot-as-fuck body. Yep. Even in coaching shorts and ball cap, he exuded a dominating presence. Her pulse shot into overdrive.

“Hey.” She accepted his hand, warm and strong. “Thought you’d be going to the party.”

He smirked. “I’m no more into those things than you are.”

“Heard there’d be someone waiting for you.” She grabbed her purse and the six-pack.

“Is that why you texted me?” He rounded the Jeep and snagged the pizza.

“No.” She didn’t sound convincing as she followed him up the stairs.

Inside, he flipped on the TV. “Then why?” he asked in a cold tone.

“To talk.” She sat the brews on bar, second-guessing her decision.

After a hard exhale, he handed her the open beer and grab himself one. “You could have called me, or found me at practice.”

“I was afraid.”

The hard set of his jaw softened. Health held the bottle toward her for a toast. “To the show being done.”

“Second that.”

He downed the bottle in nearly one swallow. The sexy black bow tie bobbed at this throat.

He set down the empty, rounded into the kitchen and returned with plates. “Dig in.” Heath shrugged off his jacket and draped it on one of the chairs. “I need to change first.”