Indulgence (262 page)

He glanced around at the suite, which boasted sleeping and
sitting areas, plus a luxurious bathroom with a tub and shower big enough to
hold a family of six. Parker devoured an apple and a banana from the fruit bowl
and tossed his new phone on the marble table top before slumping into a chair.

He stared at the new device wishing he had someone to call;
someone who gave a shit he’d arrived safely and was settling into his new life.
But he didn’t. His mother had called once leaving a terse, predictable message
that made him ache for his old life while at the same time relieved he’d left
it behind. He’d made his choice. Although disturbing erotic thoughts of the
compelling Spaniard, the guy he was supposed to compete with for his starting
position, made him doubt his sanity.

*****

Rafe sipped his beer and attempted to relax. Maureen and
Adam chattered with friends on either side of him as he smiled at the various
locals who stopped at their table to congratulate him on pulling together such
a great team His heart pounded in his ears, the gigantic, colossal mistaken
nature of this project whipping through him like a hurricane. Huge. Epic.
Failure waiting to happen.

His leg bounced from nervousness until Maureen’s calm, cool
hand touched it. She kept talking to the woman on her right but her palm
stroked his thigh, soothing, erotic, and annoying all at once. He wanted to
crawl up the damn walls. Why had he put himself in all these simultaneously
stressful positions? Jesus, just a year ago, he coached a group of teenagers on
an elite travel team, his main stressors that of parents always pressing for
more playing time or positive evaluations for their kids. With no real worries
other than where he’d buy his next meal or what girl he would call to take off
his edge.

He blinked, staring at his wife’s profile. They had gone
through hell to get to this point. It had taken him months to convince her he
loved her. He would not trade it for a million dollars. Still, he should have
taken one glance at her brother’s proposal to take on recruiting for this crazy
project and said “Hell. No.” before running in the opposite direction.

His phone buzzed but he ignored it in favor of easing into
Maureen’s under-the-table caress, needing her more than he needed anything at
the moment. She turned to him, her bright blue eyes comforting. He smiled as
the band around his chest loosened an inch or even two.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered, her hand planted firmly near
his crotch, making his scalp zing with anticipation.

“Can’t,” he whispered back, moving so she could get a better
angle. “Jack and the guy from the casino are coming by. They want a play by
play from the team meeting.”

She sighed and sipped her lemonade. “Okay, but it’s already
nearly nine.” She stared at his beer. “Jesus, I wish I could have one of
those.”

“Hell no, woman. You won’t corrupt our son that way.”

He leaned into Maureen, taking a deep breath of her scent
which had always thrilled him but now had a ripe undercurrent that never failed
to bring his whole body to strict attention.

“I love you.” He’d never meant anything more sincerely in
his life.

She put her head on his shoulder. “I know. And you’re going
to be fine. This whole thing is going to be great. I know it.”

“Yeah, Garza and all, eh?”

“Well, he seemed very nice.”

Rafe snorted.

“Yeah, Dad, he did.” Maureen’s body stiffened. Rafe let it
pass.

“You think so, Adam?” He thought his heart might burst from
his chest. “I hope so. I really really do.” He had never asked Maureen’s nearly
grown children to call him anything but Rafe.

Jack strode up, his eyes full of stress, but smiling at the
sight of them. He dropped into the booth. Maureen leaned over and kissed his
cheek. “Hey, handsome.”

He ordered a beer, then sat back and unbuttoned his top
shirt button. “Fuck me. What a day.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow at him.

“Goddamned market is going haywire. People are back to
writing purchase offers on the hood of their agent’s cars. Like the old days,
but Jesus please-us is it stressful.” He grinned and sucked back half the amber
brew. “Any good news to be had?”

“Well, Sevim gave me a verbal agreement about an hour ago.
He’ll be in by Friday to sign a contract.” Rafe’s personal triumph over signing
the Turkish coach faded at the sight of the unfamiliar local number on his
phone. He’d programmed in all the players’ new numbers so he had no idea who
this could be. “Inez.”

“Yes, this is the J.W. Marriott. We have a couple of
complaints and, um, the noise seems to be coming from your floor. You know, the
players’ floor.”

Rafe groaned.
It starts.

“All right, I’ll call the manager. He should be in the
building, and I’ll be right out.”

“Thank you, sir.” He hung up and met his brother-in-law’s
dark stare.

“You let them loose? Tonight? You do realize where they are
right? Smack in the middle of Detroit with casinos, strip bars, and nightclubs
in their path?”

He ignored the man’s rhetorical bullshit and hit the speed
dial for the team manager as he got to his feet. No answer. He ground his teeth
and sent a text demanding a return call in the next five minutes. “Yeah, Jack I
do. But these are grown men. They’re….”

“A bunch of prima donna professional athletes with too
fucking much money and an ass load of testosterone to blow off. Loose in
downtown Detroit. Better call the PR department.” Maureen started to slide out
of the booth. Rafe took her hand and helped her up.

“I’m fine, honey. But I need to get home.” She glared at her
brother. “You. Be nice.” The tension in his face softened as he looked at her.
Rafe’s head still buzzed with stress.

“I’ll update you later,” he tossed over his shoulder as he
led them out of the increasingly noisy restaurant. “I’m so sorry.” He kissed
Maureen’s forehead. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“It’ll be fine. The hotel is probably being picky. Go make
some threats and get them calmed down. You have practice, when?”

“Monday.” He winced, realizing the mistake, even as he said
it.

“Oh, well, um, maybe you should call an impromptu one this
weekend—you know, mandatory or something so they don’t…I don’t know.”

As he climbed behind the wheel of his truck and watched
Maureen’s taillights disappear into the traffic, Rafe tried to figure out how
in the hell he’d been named babysitter for a bunch of grown men.

The early sun warmed Nicco’s skin as he finished the sixth
of his ten-mile run. His head finally cleared allowing him into the zone of
pain-free euphoria he always reached at about this point every morning. No
matter how late he’d been up, what or who he’d been doing, he never, ever,
skipped his run.

The fog had burned off a nearby golf course and early
players headed to the first hole. The brisk Michigan air brushed across his
skin, making him break out in a chill. He slowed, headed up a hill, crested it
and stopped, looking around at the vista of bright green. For some reason, it
seemed unnatural and surreal, exactly like this whole fucking expansion soccer
team experiment.

He sighed and started back down the other side, picking up
speed and letting the increasing exhaustion in his legs distract him.

By the time he got back to the lobby, a bunch of his new
teammates had gathered in the coffee shop, jawing and sipping from cardboard
cups. They ignored him. He returned the favor, tipping a salute to the hot
blonde receptionist who’d given him a stellar blowjob the night before.

Several teammates had made a half-hearted attempt to include
him in their lame plans to hit strip clubs and casinos and whatever else
Detroit could provide them last night, but he’d demurred and spent the evening
between the legs of said lovely behind the desk. A much better tradeoff,
considering the young coach had been called in at one point to yell at them all
to shut the fuck up or risk getting booted to the curb of the high-class hotel.
By the time that happened, he’d been passed out, sated, after sending
what’s-her-name on her way.

He’d been subjected to a second round with the psychologist
and spent a pleasant half hour baiting the guy about his own “I’m gay and I’m
proud” confession. Then he passed the rest of the time staring sullenly at his
own shoes.

“See you next week, Nicco,” the therapist had said at the
quiet end of the hour. Nicco had snorted and slammed the door.

Leaning against the mirrored wall of the elevator, he let
endorphins from the hard run rush through his brain. He barely noticed when a
hand appeared between the closing doors, forcing them back open. Grimacing at
the delay Nicco looked straight into the bright blue eyes of the man who had
haunted his wet dreams.

“Oh, um, hi. Sorry.” Parker Rollings blushed and ran a
nervous hand through his short-cropped blond hair.

Nicco didn’t trust his voice so he nodded, annoyed by how
his scalp prickled at the young man’s proximity. He stood up straighter,
letting his gaze traverse the very pleasant landscape of young Parker’s, back,
waist, and ass. He took a breath, tried to think of something to say but
couldn’t. Which really pissed him off. When the doors slid open, Nicco remained
frozen in place, gripped by uncertainty.

Parker turned to him.

“We got off on the wrong foot.”

Nicco nodded, throat closed in agony at the deep slightly
southern cadence of the other man’s voice. “So, let’s try again.” The tall
American stuck out a hand. “Hello, I’m Parker Rollings. Pleased to meet you.”

Nicco stared at it, willing the muscles and bones of his
shoulder and elbow to cooperate. He observed his dark hand gripping Parker’s.
And just barely resisted the urge to grab the rail behind him at the bright
shock of chemistry passing between them.

Parker gasped and yanked his hand back, staring at Nicco as
if at a particularly disgusting roadkill. Then, as is the way with polite,
well-brought up American boys, he smiled, putting Nicco at ease in way that
terrified him and turned him on in equal measure.

“And you are Nicolas Garza, the guy I think I’m supposed to
beat if I want my starting spot, correct?” He stood next to Nicco, forcing him
to ease away ever so slightly. “Good run?” Nicco’s eyes refused to obey his
brain’s direct orders and stared as the sweat droplets on Parker’s shoulders
and beautifully defined biceps beaded up and disappeared in the dry cool air of
the small space.

The silence expanded, encompassing Nicco in a cocoon of
awkward lust. “Oh, uh, yeah, good run. You?” He passed a shaking hand over his
face and moved another few centimeters away from extreme temptation.

The doors slid open. The two men didn’t move. Nicco pushed
himself away from the wall, his body sore, frozen, old and used. The fresh
beauty of the young man pissed him off for some reason. Take his starting spot?
Not likely. He fixed what he hoped was a smug look on his face, turned to face
Parker’s fresh-faced eager youth, and got slammed straight in the libido by a
connection so intense his jaw dropped. He clapped his mouth shut and frowned
trying to square the warring emotions in his brain.

Yep, time to see that shrink again.

Because something about his frighteningly real reaction to
Parker Rollings made him want to take the kid off to a private cabin and
just…hold him close. The young man oozed vulnerability, but it combined with a
sort of innate strength just under the surface.

It made every hair on Nicco’s body stand up straight. He
took a deep breath, started to speak, to say something resembling polite.
Something not sounding like “I want to make love to you until you scream with
pleasure.”

Parker spoke first. “Yeah, so see you Monday.” Parker put a
hand on the back of his neck.

Nicco spoke without thinking. “Some of us are going out tonight.
There’s this club….”

“Oh, um, I’m not really into….” Parker stopped, seemed to
rally himself. “Okay. Great. What time?”

Nicco smiled.
Round one to the old guy.
“Late, ten
thirty. Meet in the lobby.” But he wanted to warn Parker at the same time. To
tell him not to come, to avoid it, to avoid him, Nicco, like the plague he was.

“All right, thanks.” A smile lit the young man’s impossibly
handsome face, shooting another bright shaft of desire straight to Nicco’s gut.
He stepped backward into the hall and lifted a hand at the closing doors then
made his slow way to his room, his cock so hard under his loose-fitting shorts
it made him limp.

He dropped into a chair, staring out into the sunlight and
pondering just what in the hell he would do with young Parker, should he get
him alone. Closing his eyes against onrushing emotion, he got up and stumbled
into the shower.

*****

Parker stared at the clothes he’d purchased, hoping they’d
be okay for the club. Dark jeans, a white shirt with a brown pattern woven around
the back and over a shoulder, black square toe shoes, new belt, even a new
wallet holding more money than he’d ever had at one time. His ears buzzed and
something zinged his nerve endings he couldn’t identify. He ran a hand over his
jaw, decided against a shave, and climbed into the shower.

He’d spent nearly three hours practicing trying to work off
some nervous energy. About half of the team showed up, and they’d done a few
self-directed drills, laughing and getting the measure of each other before the
official pre-season team camp started on Monday.

Parker had let his captain’s brain take over and observed
the group, saw them interact, and allowed the first hint of optimism sneak into
his subconscious. This Black Jack thing might work as long as they could pool
their collective talents.