Hot Ticket (35 page)

His skin was cool, smooth as a baby’s butt, and smelled of clean soap and desirable man. A moment later, the jeans were unzipped and she was caressing south of his navel.

He splayed strong fingers across her back, learning the feel and landscape of her body, before he gripped her shoulders and pushed her upright.

“I need to get up to take them off,” Josh said.

Lindy let him rise, but they were both too impatient.

In a heated flurry, hands swept clothes aside, until moments later they both stood naked, caressing and exploring, tasting and teasing as they sank to the cushy carpet. Josh shifted, taking Lindy beneath him. Panting, gasping, mouth found mouth in an endless stream of raw sensation.

He nudged her legs apart with his thighs and settled himself against her hot sex.

“Hold up, cowboy!” Lindy said, puffing for air. “You weren’t kidding when you said you don’t date much. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What? Oh . . . yeah.” He looked into her flushed face and grinned. “My jacket’s downstairs. Do you—?”

“The nightstand,” she said, her lips twitching, and pointed toward the bed.

“Hold that thought.”

“I’ll wait right here for you.”

When Josh returned, Lindy trapped him with her legs and took him inside her. She heard his groan and watched his eyes darken to stormy hues.

By turns slow and sensuous and then hard and wild, she gave in to the heat building between them and let him push her to the edge of the world. He followed her and gave one last thrust before plunging them both over the threshold.

Spent with his release, Josh rolled to his back, cradling Lindy in his arms so that every inch of their bare skin touched. She snuggled into his rising and falling chest, a sleepy, satisfied smile on her face.

It took a moment for the sound in the background to register.

“Water’s still running,” she said, laughter in her voice.

“Think it’s cold yet?”

“Maybe not. It’s an eighty-gallon tank.”

“Quick recovery type?”

“I believe so.”

Josh rolled up on his elbow, lowered his mouth to hers, and said, “Plenty of time.”

 Lindy should have been tired after a long day at work and then spending most of the night making love. Josh was certainly wiped.

But at dawn she was wide awake and starved. And she couldn’t stop smiling.

After a quick shower and a spritz to the pits, she threw on a white terry robe and left him quietly snoozing, sprawled among the pillows like a sultan. She eased barefoot downstairs to fix some breakfast.

This morning she skipped her usual tired oatmeal and went for the whole magilla—bacon, eggs, toast with cinnamon butter, coffee, the daily crossword, and Josh. Josh with cinnamon butter sounded good, too. She might try it.

Unlike most days, today Lindy had enough groceries on hand for them to spend the entire day in bed eating.

Life didn’t get any better than that.

Balancing the loaded breakfast tray in front of her, she nudged the bedroom door open with her hip and padded across to the bed.

“Up and at ’em, sleepyhead,” she said, before she realized the bed was empty except for the stash of pillows. “Josh?”

“Here, beautiful.”

Behind her, the bathroom door opened and Josh emerged, fully dressed in sweater, shirt, and jeans. Not a good sign. His hair was finger combed and damp, and his dark beard stubble gave him a rugged air.

“Well, someone certainly looks rested,” she said, setting the tray on the bed. “How did you sleep?”

He answered her with a leer and a grin.

“I borrowed your extra toothbrush,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Help yourself to whatever you need.”

“In that case . . .”

Josh took her in his arms and kissed her head, her forehead, her nose, making a slow foray toward her mouth, all the while running his hands over her body, his fingers relearning secrets he’d uncovered during the night. Lindy kissed him back with all the energy and steamy passion he aroused in her.

“That’s so nice,” she said, pressing into him. “You’re a good kisser.”

He smiled with satisfaction and brushed stray hairs behind her ears with his fingertips.

“Good morning to you, too. You’re up early. You doing okay?”

She smiled back, holding him around his waist. He smelled of her perfumed shower gel. She made a mental note to stock the bathroom with some guy soaps.

“Never better,” she said. “Let’s eat and jump back in bed. What do you say?”

“The food smells heavenly. Coffee! Woman, you read my mind.”

Lindy released him to pour him a cup and said, “We can spend the day holed up in here, talking about the first thing that pops up.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Or playing video games, whichever you like.”

“Wish I could, beautiful, but I can’t. I’ve got to go. I’m late as it is. Have you seen my shoes?”

“Downstairs.”

“Thanks.”

On his way out of the bedroom door, he took two big swallows of coffee and snatched up a piece of toast. Lindy padded down the stairs after him.

“Got to go? But you just got here—well, a few hours ago—and what do you mean late? Aren’t you staying? I’ve got breakfast in bed. It’s fixed. It’s ready.”

She heaved a sigh worthy of a martyr.

“I know,” he said, slipping his feet into his shoes. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for you to go to so much trouble.”

“It wasn’t any trouble. I wanted to do it.”

Josh looked around for his jacket, spotted it on a chair, and tossed it over his arm.

“I’ve got a business to run, beautiful. I’ve got to work. I’m due to catch a plane in two hours, and I’m not packed yet.” He
smooched her on the nose. “You understand, don’t you? I would’ve packed last night, except someone sidetracked me into staying over and being her sex slave.”

“Since you put it that way . . .” Lindy flashed an unrepentant grin. “I guess you can go, if you must.”

“I must. I’d rather stay here with you. You know that?”

She nodded and opened the front door for him, and he paused to kiss her again on his way out.

Somewhere, a neighbor’s dog was barking. The buildings in her complex stood shoulder to shoulder, and the sun was peeking over the building across the way, the day already smelling crisp and cool. Lindy pulled her robe closer to keep out the chill.

“I’ll try to call,” Josh said. He stepped off the stoop, then angled back. “Do me a favor?”

“If I can.”

“Go to the games while I’m gone. Snake’s under the impression you’re his good luck charm.”

Lindy leaned against the doorframe and said, “Sure, Josh, I don’t mind going, but where in the world did he get that idea? He doesn’t even know me.”

“Who knows? Caught you on television, I guess.”

“Who in the panhandle didn’t,” Lindy muttered. “The infamous Lindy Hamilton strikes again.”

“Snake’s having a great season, one of his best. You’ve been at the games. Somehow he’s connected the two and decided he’s played well because you’ve got the mojo working. So you’ve become his totem, of sorts. Will you go to the games, beautiful, for me?”

“Of course, I will, Josh.” Her grin turned saucy. “For you, big boy, anything.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Am I? Am I really?”

“You better believe it.” He kissed her again, softly this time, but with purpose and longing. “I’ll miss you.”

Lindy sobered, and said, “I’ll miss you, too.”

And he was gone.

Arena Season Week 10

Less than half a season to go, and the playoff races were tightening up. A major television network bid for a live feed of the Moccasins versus the Orlando Predators rivalry, and everyone in town was making a big deal about the broadcast appearing during weekend sports primetime.

All week long, the newspaper devoted extra pages in the sports section for pregame forecasts and guest columnists. Not to be outdone, the local affairs channel on cable television hosted a special talk show call-in every night where viewers interacted with a panel of area coaches.

Unfortunately, Lindy got caught up in the hype and couldn’t seem to untangle herself.

Word had leaked about her bringing luck for the Moccasins quarterback. Dredge up her toilet faux pas at the start of the season, and the lucky charm story took on a life of its own.

Suddenly, fans—dubbed the Privy Council—appeared at games sporting T-shirts airbrushed with a picture of a bad-ass viper
twining around an outhouse. Privy Council visors made from twisting balloons were big hits with the animal house set.

Lindy had no proof, but having witnessed the promotion machine the Moccasins franchise had in place, she suspected Corsetti and that bunch orchestrated the whole thing in hopes of bumping up attendance for the big night.

The day of the televised live game, she was ensconced on her couch in front of the television, wrapped in her favorite blanket and snug in her flannel strawberry jammies, the ones she favored the most when she was sick. An array of cold remedies littered the coffee table in front of her, along with a box of tissues, a half-finished can of ginger ale, a twenty-ounce bottle of apple juice, and a few dozen breakfast bar wrappers.

Feed a cold, starve a fever. Or was it starve a cold, feed a fever? She never could keep those two straight.

Around her, the house was a wreck: dirty dishes stacked in the sink, kitchen garbage needing to go out, laundry piled on the floor, dust bunnies the size of small dogs frolicking in the corners. That wasn’t how she kept house, but she felt too bad to clean.

“No, I’m sorry,” she was saying into the portable phone, or trying to around fits of sneezing. “As I told the last young man who called from Mr. Corsetti’s office, I won’t be at tonight’s game. Thank you for asking. I’ve caught a wicked cold, and I think it’s better if I stay in.”

She glanced to the cases of sport drink and canned chicken soup delivered a half hour ago and sitting on the floor by her front door.

“And please tell Mr. Corsetti that I appreciate the drinks and soup. I’ll be sure and stay hydrated.”

Lindy hung up the phone, blew her raw nose for the zillionth time, and muttered, “Get a life, people.”

Some of them were taking this good luck charm thing far too seriously.

The phone shrilled again, and Lindy picked it up. She expected
to hear either another reporter or another one of Corsetti’s people on the other end, so her greeting was cool at best, stuffy head nasally, at worst.

“Oh, you sound pitiful, beautiful.”

“Josh!” She wiped her drippy nose again and sank back into the sofa cushion, feeling better just for hearing his voice. “You think it’s bad on your end, you should be on this side of the phone. Spring colds are the worst.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.

“Yes, I am. We can put a man on the moon, but we can’t cure the common cold?”

“Because there’s no money in a cure. The money’s in treatment.”

“That is just wrong.”

As they talked, the obnoxious call-waiting beep started and kept signaling.

“Is that you or me?” Josh said.

“Me. They’ll go away. The phone hasn’t stopped since I told a reporter this morning that I was sick and not going to the game tonight. Where are you?”

“I’m in Atlanta now. Barring any problems, I’ll be home in an hour.” His volume dropped a notch. “And you know how I look forward to coming home.”

Did she ever.

Passion-fueled memories of previous homecomings sent a yummy thrill through Lindy. Not that she was in any shape to act on it. But that was okay. Their relationship was more than just peel-me-off-the-ceiling sex.

No matter what she and Josh were doing, whenever they looked at each other, they couldn’t stop grinning.

Yet with all that, there was still one annoying fly in Lindy’s ointment of happiness. Because of his business, she and Josh spent as much time apart as they spent together.

“Got to go,” he said. “My plane is boarding. Crawl back in bed. I’ll see you soon.”

At any other time, Lindy would have jumped up to clean house with a rag in her teeth if she had to, rather than let anyone, especially Josh, see her home looking like a landfill on a busy day. But right now, her head hurt.

She didn’t know how long she’d dozed on the couch before the doorbell woke her up. Lindy and Josh hadn’t exchanged keys or shared closet space yet, mainly because they signaled commitment and Lindy wasn’t sure enough about where this thing between the two of them was going.

The phone rang as she opened the front door, the sound impatient and demanding. She let it ring.

To her surprise, Josh stood in her doorway wearing a windbreaker over jeans and a navy blue golf shirt. Usually, when he came straight from the airport, he wore a suit or dress shirt and slacks. He’d obviously stopped and changed first.

One look at her sorry state and he put a broad palm to her forehead, his gorgeous blue eyes awash with concern. Then, with the phone rudely shrilling in the background, he said the most welcome words she’d heard all day.

“Dr. Josh is here and will take care of everything.”