How to Score (14 page)

“Well, it’s made him wary of me. You should have seen the way he looked at his dinner plate—as if he suspected I’d poisoned his food. But it’s more than that. He acts kind of standoffish.” She paused. “He probably finds me as boring as my last boyfriend did.”

“The cheating boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you find out he was cheating?”

She hesitated. The silence stretched out until he thought she wasn’t going to answer. “I caught him with another woman,” she finally said. “In
my
apartment.” Another pause. “In
my
bed.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.” She blew out a sigh. “I’d given him a key to my place so he could take care of my cats while I was on a business trip. I came home early and walked in, and there he was, in my bed, with a skinny blonde.”

“Oh, wow. You must have felt like… ” He hadn’t used any sports terminology tonight; he’d better haul some out. “Like you’d been tackled by a three-hundred-pound linebacker.”

“Yeah,” she said glumly. “With a gorilla on his back.”

“Why did he bring a woman to your place?”

“Because my apartment looked like a woman lived there, and he wanted her to think he was married.”

Chase frowned. “Why would he want that?”

“So she wouldn’t expect a real relationship.”

“Wow. What a fine, upstanding guy.”

“Yeah.” Sarcasm dripped from the word. She was silent a long moment, then drew a shaky breath. When she spoke again, her voice sounded small and wounded. “He told me he needed to be with other women because I was boring in bed.”

What an a-hole. Anger, hot as the steam wafting from the shower, boiled inside of Chase. “And you believed him?”

“Well, apparently it’s true. I mean, I obviously wasn’t enough for him.” She paused again. “And ever since, I’ve been afraid of getting close to a man and being found… lacking.”

“You’re not lacking anything!”

“How do you know? You’ve never even seen me.”

Oops. Big oops. “Because a woman can’t be boring in bed unless she’s with a man who can’t excite her. And from what you told me previously, Sir Lance-a-boil was a dud in that department.” Chase rose to his feet, too worked up to sit still. “I can’t believe this jerk. He tried to shift the blame for his cheating onto you, and you let him get away with it. It ticks me off that you’re letting him have so much power over you.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. He got caught with his pants down—literally—and he tried to spin the situation so it’s your fault.”

“I never thought of it quite like that.”

“This creepoid made you afraid that something’s wrong with you, and now you keep running men off so you won’t have to face your fear.”

“Maybe so.” A sniff sounded through the phone.

“No maybe about it.” Hell—this had to stop. He had to help her get over this. He paced the small bathroom. “Sammi, you’ve got to rebuild your confidence. This whole thing has just become one big, bad, self-perpetuating cycle, and you’ve got to stop it.”

“How do I do that?”

“You have to get back in the game. You have to spend some time with a guy and not hurt him.”

“But I hurt every man I’m interested in.”

“So maybe you need to find one you’re not all that interested in, and practice.”

“But I don’t hurt men who are just friends.”

Chase jammed a hand through his hair, then winced as he hit his bandage. “So find a man you just sort of like.”

“Where am I going to find a guy like that?”

He should encourage her to go to a singles bar, or meet someone online, or ask a friend to fix her up. But that wasn’t what he found himself saying. “You’ve already said you don’t want to get involved with this FBI guy because he’s a law-enforcement officer.”

“Well, yeah. But he’s not interested in me. After I leave here, he’s not going to want to see me.”

Was she nuts? “Why do you think that?”

“I’ve injured him to the point where he wants nothing to do with me.”

“You don’t know that for a fact. Act as if you think he’s interested, and see what happens.”

“You mean, tonight?” She sounded alarmed.

“Sure.”

“But he’s hurt, and… ”

He broke in. “Sammi, do you want to break this pattern of behavior, or not?”

“Of course I do.”

“So let’s establish some objective criteria for measuring your progress. If you see him twice and don’t hurt him, will you be convinced you’ve broken this streak?”

“I—I’m not sure.”

“Well, what if you saw him three times?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“We need to set a definite goal, Sammi. You have to give a concrete answer.” He paced the tiny bathroom—three steps forward, then three steps back. “If you go out with Chase three times in a row and don’t injure him, will you be convinced you’re no longer a hazard to mankind? Yes or no?”

“Well… yes.”

He blew out a relieved sigh. “Great. So now we have a goal.”

“But… if I’m only seeing him to prove something, that isn’t fair to him, is it? I don’t want to just use him.”

Use me, baby, use me
. “You won’t be,” he assured her. “This isn’t going to be anything heavy. Think of it as dating light.”

“Dating light?”

“Yeah. Nothing heavy or physical. You know—the preliminary stuff, when a couple is just kind of checking each other out. They go out a few times, they flirt, they don’t really click, and they stop seeing each other. No harm, no foul.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to go out with me?”

I don’t think that’ll be a problem.
“There you go again, jinxing yourself with negative thinking. Just hang out with him tonight and think positive thoughts. And stop worrying about hurting him.”

“That’s kind of like telling me not to think about a pink elephant.”

He searched his mind for one of his brother’s lame phrases. “The only way to score is to keep your head in the game.”

“What?”

“Focus on the moment. Don’t get all caught up worrying about what might happen later.”

“Oh. When you said something about scoring, I thought you meant something else.”

He grinned and shook his head, then flinched when it hurt. “You can do it. Call me tomorrow and let me know how our game plan worked.”

“Wait! We never discussed your fee.”

Chase clicked a button on the phone, simulating another incoming call. “There’s my other line—I’ve got to go.” He hung up fast, then leaned back against the sink and closed his eyes.

What the hell had he just done?

T
he evening wind ruffled Sammi’s hair as she clicked off the phone. Wrapping her arms around herself, she walked the length of the terrace and peered through the window of Chase’s bedroom. The bathroom door was still closed. Sammi pulled her brows together. What if he’d gotten dizzy and passed out in the shower?

She headed back inside, crossed the living room, and knocked on Chase’s bedroom door. “Chase?” No answer. She turned the knob, walked into the bedroom, and rapped on the bathroom door. “Chase? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he called. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

Relieved, Sammi wandered over to his bed, fluffed the pillows, and straightened the covers. As she started to pick up his dinner tray from his nightstand, her gaze fell on the brown expandable file folder on the floor beside it. What the heck was in it? He’d acted as if the file were top secret.

Maybe she could take a quick peek while he was in the shower. What could it hurt? It wasn’t like she was going to sabotage an investigation or anything.

She started to reach for the folder, then jumped as the bathroom door creaked open. She whipped around. Chase strode into the bedroom, a cloud of steam behind him, wearing only a towel slung low around his hips.

Good gravy. He looked like an underwear model, minus the underwear. His legs were toned and dusted with dark hair. His stomach and chest were pure chiseled muscle. He stopped in his tracks and stared at her.

She rapidly picked up his dinner tray, nearly knocking over his glass of iced tea in the process. “Uh, hi.” Good Lord, but he was hot. It wasn’t just the steam wafting out the open bathroom door that was making her flush. “I-I was just straightening up,” she stammered. “I’ll just go in the other room and—and let you get dressed.” Swallowing hard, she scurried from the room, closing the door behind her.

She was rinsing the last plate under the kitchen faucet and wishing she could rinse the sight of Chase’s nearly naked body from her mind when he sauntered out of the bedroom a few moments later, wearing nothing but blue sweatpants.

She quickly turned to the dishwasher and jammed the plate between the racks, hoping to hide her heated face. “You’re supposed to be in bed.” She busied herself locating the dishwashing detergent under the sink, then poured it into the dishwasher.

“I’m supposed to rest.” He draped his large frame on the sofa. “I can do that on the sofa just as well as in bed, can’t I?”

“Well… I guess.” She closed the dishwasher door and switched it on.

“I’ve got some movies from Netflix.” He patted the sofa beside him. “Come help me pick one out.”

His eyes were inviting, and the invitation seemed to extend to more than movies. Her mouth suddenly went dry. Her coach had told her to act as if he were interested. The funny thing was, it suddenly seemed like he really was. Oh, dear—the evening now felt like a date, which meant she was likely to do something disastrous.

Don’t worry about hurting him,
her coach had said.
Keep your head on the block
. Or was it on the field? Maybe on the game. She wasn’t very good at sports terms, but it was something like that, and it meant focus on the moment. And she knew she wasn’t supposed to worry about scoring.

She focused on walking from the kitchen to the living room and carefully sitting down, without tripping or falling or bopping him on the head. She sat on the opposite side of the sofa from him, but it still felt disconcertingly close.

“Scoot over so you can pick a movie,” he said.

She inched nearer. His left hand touched hers as he passed her the stack of DVDs. She swore she felt a sizzle.

She sorted through the discs. “How about this one?” She held up
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
. It somehow seemed appropriate.

“Great. That’s one of my all-time favorites.”

He was fond of crazy people. That boded well.

He reached for the DVD and started to rise. She put her hand on his upper arm to stop him, then immediately pulled it back. There was that sizzle thing again—plus his biceps were hard and his skin was warm, and touching his naked arm seemed entirely too intimate. “I’ll do it,” she said. “You’re supposed to be resting, remember?”

She crossed the room and inserted the disc and then turned around to see him gazing at her, as if the entertainment had already begun and he was enjoying the show. Instead of looking away when she caught him, he smiled unapologetically. As the movie started, her pulse raced like the lunatics making a break for it as she reseated herself at the far end of the couch.

He gave her a slow grin. “I have a concussion, not cooties.” He patted the sofa. “Come on over.”

Sammi edged closer. He stretched his right arm across the back of the couch, his fingers just inches from her head. He wasn’t touching her, exactly, yet she swore she could feel his body heat. It kept her hyperaware of him throughout the movie.

When the credits rolled, Chase turned toward her. “What do you want to watch now?”

You.
Sammi’s heart thudded hard against her chest.
Easy, girl,
she told herself. He was for practice only. She made a show of checking her watch. “I don’t think you’re supposed to sit up all night watching movies. It’s time for bed.”

“Wow.” His eyes held a teasing gleam. “Don’t know that I’ve had a woman ever proposition me so bluntly.”

To her chagrin, Sammi felt her face flame. “That was a medical suggestion, not a proposition,” she said dryly.

“Pity.”

“Off to bed.” She waved her hand.

“By myself?”

The heat in her face went up a degree. “Yes, by yourself.”

“What will you do?”

She placed her hand on the sofa. “I’ll just stretch out here.”

“I have a king-sized bed,” he said with a suggestive grin. “We could share.”

“I don’t think so.”

His lips curved up. “I’m wounded. I’m perfectly harmless.”

He didn’t look harmless—not with that cheeky grin, and his naked chest so close she could smell the soap on his skin. He looked virile and healthy and all too ready for something besides sleep.

“No chance.”

“Well, you’ll need to help me back to bed.”

She started to remind him that he’d walked into the living room all by himself, then decided that would be uncharitable. He was hurt, after all, and it was her fault. “Are you sure you want to risk it? I haven’t been exactly good for your health.”

“I’ll risk it if you will.”

She put her arm around his naked back. He wrapped his arm around her waist in a way that felt all too intimate and not at all impaired. His skin was warm under her hand, his insanely buff chest hard against the side of her breast. His five-o’clock shadow grazed her forehead as she walked beside him into the bedroom.