Heaven Can't Wait (5 page)

“Who said anything about giving up? I was simply stating a fact.” Then he kissed her on the nose. “Have a great day.”

“You, too.” Lissy watched him head back up the hallway toward the shower and wished he’d had the good grace to give up. Although sex with her vibrator relieved some of the tension and helped her sleep, it didn’t come close to the pleasure of sex with Will.

She hurried to the bedroom, got dressed, then grabbed her briefcase and purse and drove through early morning traffic to the five-story office building that housed the
Denver Independent
. As a senior editor, she got one of the coveted parking places beneath the building—a luxury that saved her countless hours searching for a spot on the streets of downtown Denver, where parking was a blood sport.

She had a meeting with her assistant editors, interviewed two candidates for the staff writer position and then shot down three design concepts for the fall fashion cover. By ten, she was beginning to feel in control again. Not even her mother, who called to demand once again that Will sign a prenup if she wanted her to attend the wedding, ruined her morning.

Because Will was in Englewood watching the Donkeys—she only called them that because it irritated him—she had lunch with Holly. Over a salad so wilted it looked like it had been fished out of the alley garbage can, she found herself telling Holly about the weekend: how she’d woken up ready to jump Will’s bones and had moved into the guest room, how the sight of Will in the shower had driven her out of her mind, how she’d nearly melted watching Will play football without his shirt, how he’d toyed with her over a game of Sex Scrabble.

“Thirteen days sounds like forever!” She leaned forward and whispered, “And there’s not a vibrator in the world that comes anywhere close to him.”

For a moment Holly said nothing but nibbled at her fruit plate. Then she smiled. “He’s doing it on purpose, you know.”

“Doing what on purpose?”

“Trying to turn you on. Trying to make you so desperate you’ll give in first.”

“Oh, no! No, no, no! Will wouldn’t do that.” When Holly gave her an exasperated how-can-you-be-so-stupid look, Lissy tried to explain. “Scrabble was my idea, and I’m the one who walked in on him when he was in the shower. He didn’t ask me to come in. And he’s played football without his shirt before. No, it’s me. I’m just—”

“—head-over-heels in love with a very sexy man,” Holly finished for her, then continued, “who knows perfectly well how he affects you and is doing everything he can to make you lose the bet before he does.”

Lissy shook her head and stood, cafeteria tray in hand. “I just don’t think he would do that.”

Holly followed her to the trash. “Lissy, dear, Will is special, but he’s still a man.”

“The Broncos have a young receiver corps this year, heavy on strength and speed but light on experience.” Will spoke into the mic on his headset, almost finished with their second live broadcast of the day. The hot June sun beat down on him, made him sweat beneath the sport coat the station insisted he wear. “Receivers Coach Tony D’Angio put them through their paces today running cross patterns and focusing on technique—footwork and hand position.”

From the station downtown, helmet-haired sports anchor Don Philips was interviewing him, his voice buzzing in Will’s earpiece. “Darius Williams was taken out with a pulled hamstring. Any word yet as to how serious it is?”

“No, Don, though it’s unlikely he’ll return to the field this week. The coaching staff is working hard to prevent preseason injuries in hopes of avoiding an early season like the one they had last year. They’ve added extra stretching and conditioning workouts, which are also helping the newest members of the team adjust to playing at altitude.”

“If anyone knows what injuries can do to a player’s career, it’s you, Will. It was a devastating knee injury that ended your career, taking you from Big 12 star to former college legend overnight.”

Will hated it when Don brought up his past, but Don seemed to love rubbing it in. “That’s right, Don. Neither the coaches nor the players want to see that scenario unfold here at team camp, so, while they’re training hard, they’re also holding back a bit, waiting for their conditioning to peak before they push forward into the more strenuous workouts.”

“Checking in with Will Fraser at Broncos team camp in Englewood. We’ll continue to follow events as the week unfolds. Tonight, the Red Sox—”

Will waited until the red light on the camera went out, then ripped off his headset. “Stupid dick.”

“Don’t listen to him, Will.” Merrill, the cameraman, began breaking down the equipment. “The asshole can’t catch a clue, much less a football. Spends his days worrying about his hair.”

“Thanks, Merrill. Go find yourself something cold to drink and some AC.”

Will had assumed he’d be over it by now. It had been eleven years since his dreams of playing pro football had ended in one moment of shattering pain. Although he’d never played a single pro game, he had turned professional football into a solid career for himself, using his name and his knowledge to earn a good living reporting from the sidelines. His work had brought him together with Lissy, more than making up for anything he’d lost. He had no regrets. Yet there were still times when he found himself wondering what might have been.

Let it go, Fraser
.

Feeling on edge, Will turned back toward the practice field and watched the players finish one-on-one drills in the red zone. He’d been irritable all day, maybe because it was ninety-nine degrees outside and maybe because he had a beautiful fiancée whom he hadn’t touched for almost three long days.

He’d come close last night to winning the bet and ending this whole thing. Then Lissy had gotten help from an old friend. He’d known the vibrator was there. Why hadn’t he thrown the damn thing out or hidden it somewhere else? Well, he might have blown it last night, but he was a man who learned from his mistakes.

He’d waited until she’d walked out the door this morning, then he’d searched the guest room until he’d found it. Knowing he couldn’t smash it or toss it out without giving himself away, he’d turned it on and slipped it back beneath the mattress where she’d hidden it. By the time she got home from work, the batteries would be dead—and he’d taken care to make certain there were no more AAs anywhere in the condo. If she reached for her little buzzing boyfriend tonight, she’d find him unresponsive—and Will doubted she’d go to the trouble of getting dressed and traversing the Cone Zone for replacement batteries.

Of course, she still had fingers.

The thought of her touching herself, sliding her pretty fingers between her lips and over her tasty little clit until she came, sent a rush of blood to his groin, leaving him half-hard.

“Hey, Fraser!” Coach D’Angio strolled over to him, pigskin in hand, followed by two rookies who would most likely spend the year serving an apprenticeship on the bench. “I hear you’re getting hitched.”

Will nodded, grinned, grateful for the distraction. “You heard right—two weeks from this past Saturday.”

D’Angio slapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations!”

The rookies nodded and smiled.

“Is she worth the ball and chain?”

Ball and chain? Will had never thought of marriage to Lissy in that way. “More than.”

Coach D’Angio held up the ball. “Hey, you want to show these two clowns how to catch a damned football? Will here is more than just a pretty face,” D’Angio said to the rookies. “For six years, he was the Big 12 all-time leader in receptions, receiving yardage and touchdowns.”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve run a serious pattern, D’Angio? These guys are pros. I can’t teach them anything.” But Will was already unbuttoning his sport jacket.

From Big 12 star to former college legend.

By the time Coach D’Angio had the ball in the air, Will was far downfield. He turned in, saw the leather spiraling toward him but about two feet too far to the left and high. As it had always done, his mind emptied of everything except how much he wanted that ball. He leapt for it, thought it into his hands, pulled it against his chest. Then his feet hit turf, a sharp bite of pain in his knee the only proof he’d just done something stupid.

Back toward the fifty-yard line, D’Angio was applauding and shouting. “Softest damned hands in the Big 12, boys, and feet with wings. If it hadn’t been for an interception and a linebacker with a grudge, he’d be shaking up the pros. Want to go for another one, Fraser?”

Will let himself be talked into catching three more before he pleaded deadline and retrieved his jacket. “I still have a column to write.”

Only then did he realize Merrill had taped the whole thing.

“Please tell me you’re going to scrap that.” Will tossed his jacket over his shoulder.

“Might be fun at the employee holiday party. I do take bribes, you know.”

Lissy picked up Chinese on the way home and tucked Will’s supper in the fridge. Then she hunkered down before the television with her dinner plate and a pair of chopsticks. The station was just finishing weather, which meant sports was next. They’d probably recycle Will’s live broadcast—Denver was Broncos crazy—and she’d at least get a glimpse of him. She hated it when one or the other of them had to work late.

No, it’s me. I’m just—

—head-over-heels in love with a very sexy man who knows perfectly well how he affects you and is doing everything he can to make you lose the bet before he does.

Lissy hadn’t been able to forget her conversation with Holly. She’d run Sunday through her mind again and again but could find no reason to believe Will was deliberately trying to seduce her. Holly had an overactive imagination.

But why had none of his friends taken off their shirts? Hmmm?

Lissy ignored the irritating voice in her head and turned up the volume.

The latest Red Sox victory over St. Louis. A doping scandal in the world of cycling. A few surprising NFL draft picks.

Thank God they were finally getting to football. No matter how much she loved Will, Lissy could only stand so much sports news. She stood and hurried to the kitchen to refill her glass of ice water, the sound of the television following her.

“At Broncos team camp this afternoon, spectators might have assumed the team had inked a new draft pick. But look closely. The man catching the ball is none other than Channel Four commentator Will Fraser, who stepped out from behind the microphone and onto the field this afternoon to catch a few passes thrown by Receivers Coach Tony D’Angio.”

Lissy nearly tripped in her crazed dash from the kitchen to the sofa. She watched, thrilled, as an image of Will leaping into the air and catching a football filled the screen.

My man
.

The words popped into her head, uttered by some primitive female part of her, as she savored the replay, melting into the cushions. Then they segued from the footage of him catching passes to his prerecorded analysis of the team’s receivers.

It was only later that it dawned on her.

His knee, which had hurt so much last night, hadn’t seemed to bother him at all.

Will drove home feeling ready to hit someone. He’d been halfway through his column when his phone had rung and he’d found himself on the line with Lissy’s mother. She obviously hadn’t expected to reach him in person, had planned to leave him a message. But once she recovered from the shock of speaking with him live, she told him that she was prepared to compensate him handsomely if he signed a prenuptial agreement, which she had just faxed to him at the paper.

“You’ll receive a check for fifty thousand dollars as soon as the document is legally final,” she’d said, her voice all ice and clipped syllables. “Once Lissy sees you’ve signed it, she’ll quit being ridiculous and sign it herself. The money—”

“You mean the bribe?”

“—will remain our secret.”

Anger and disbelief had tied Will’s tongue, but only for a moment. “I don’t know how a woman as warm and loving as Lissy came from you, but for her sake I’m going to keep this conversation to myself. It would crush her to know you’ve gone behind her back like this.”

“I will not have my daughter lose her fortune to trailer trash! You don’t even know who your father was!” The ugly sharpness of her words rang between them like shattering glass.

Will fought back profanity, chose his words carefully. “I know he was a wealthy married man, like your husband, and that the young waitress he took advantage of paid the rest of her life for his irresponsibility, raising a child alone on tip money. She had more courage in her heart than he had dollars in the bank. Lissy is like her—kind, courageous, caring.”

“Don’t presume to tell me about my daughter!”

“Good-bye, Mrs. Charteris.” He’d slammed the phone down, then retrieved the hateful document and fed it through the shredder.

Will got home just before nine to find Lissy curled up on the sofa with a pile of fashion magazines and a glass of iced tea, Seal playing over the stereo. At the sight of her, he felt his anger drain away. God, he needed her tonight.

She was wearing a skin-hugging black tank top—without a bra—and a pair of very short denim shorts. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that hung halfway down her back. She stood when he neared the sofa, raised herself onto her toes and kissed him—on the cheek. “I missed you.”

He pulled her close and kissed her long and slow—on the lips. “I missed you, too.”

She stepped away, started toward the kitchen. “Your dinner’s in the fridge—Chinese.”

“There’s nothin’ like my Lissy’s home cookin’.” He followed her, watching the feminine sway of her hips and the sexy curves of her ass, willing himself to forget the conversation he’d had with her mother.

“I saw you on TV today.” She opened the refrigerator and bent over to reach inside, her shorts rising an inch to reveal the soft, rounded undersides of her ass cheeks.

His mouth watered, but not for Chinese food. “I’m always on TV, sugar.”