Out of Bounds (11 page)

It’s everything I need to hear.

As I enter my office I tell her good-bye, set down my phone and purse, and settle in at my desk. By ten I’ve plowed through a contract from a vendor, and by ten-thirty, I’ve responded to some emails from colleagues needing legal eyes. At eleven, I dive into some research on employee-player relationships to see what I can find out. There’s not much out there. With very little precedent, I’ll be winging this. But it’s what I need to do. I take a deep, fueling breath, push back in my chair, and stand up so I can find Stuart.

Only, there’s no need to track him down. He’s knocking on my open door. My stomach nosedives. I’m hardly ready. I don’t know what to say, or what I’m even asking for. I gulp, trying to sort out the pieces of my bizarre love life in my mind.
Hey Stu, what would you think if I dated the quarterback? Stuart . . . are you one-hundred percent positive that it’s a horrid idea for the team lawyer to date a player? What if I told you I wanted to ask the quarterback on a date? A hot, sexy, dirty, wild date . . .

I gulp.

“Come in,” I say, glad he can’t read my mind.

He claps his hands together. “Hey Dani.”

“Hey Stuart.”

I
wait for him to go next. I point to the chair across from my desk, and he plops down in it. “About last night . . .”

I sit up straighter, nerves tightening. “The children’s hospital event?”

He nods and points. “Bingo.”

“What about it?” I ask carefully, worry thrumming through me. Did he overhear the things Drew said to me at whack-a-mole? In that instant, a cold fear seeps into my bones. Just because I was about to march into his office for a heart-to-heart doesn’t mean he’ll embrace my wishes with open arms. Not at all. In fact, chances are I’ve miscalculated.

Badly.

All my clarity from earlier slinks out the door, and I’m left with only hard cold facts. I need this job. I take care of my sister. I take care of myself. I can’t risk this.

“You and number fourteen,” Stuart says.

A weight lodges in my chest as his meaning becomes crystal clear. So much for my plan to take the temperature on a possible out-in-the-open relationship. Best to reel in that bad little idea, and act like nothing has happened.

Stuart clears his throat. “Did I pick up on a vibe?”

I frown, doing my best to appear thoroughly confused. “What vibe do you mean?”

He holds out his phone and slides his thumb across the screen. The weight sinks down into my gut. Oh shit. Oh hell. Pictures. Someone has pictures of us. That’s how players get busted. Cell phones are the devil.

My body is a high-tension line. Every muscle tightens with the fear that I’m getting the boot. That I’m raining scandal down on the team. Even though the reasonable side of me asks,
for what?
But the reasonable side of me is parked in the backseat. Defensive Dani, who can dart
and
dodge, is driving the car now. Doesn’t matter that I was hoping to ask for permission. Now it’s time to play cover-up and save our asses.

Stuart turns the screen in my direction and shows me a photo from last night. It’s on some sports news and gossip site. The shot is Drew and me by whack-a-mole. There’s nothing inappropriate in it.

“Cute pic,” he says, then swipes the screen again and displays another. “Just like this one the reporter found.”

He shows me a picture I’ve seen before—the one taken at the first event at the hotel. It’s a shot of us by the banner for the charity.

“And that gave you a vibe?” I ask keeping my tone even, revealing nothing.

Stuart scratches his head. “A little. But then I came across this shot.” He hands me the phone once more, and I jerk my head back. The picture shows the four of us leaving
Heaven Can Wait
. It looks like it was taken from a distance. I have no clue where that came from. I didn’t think Drew was at the level of paparazzi stalking him.

“Where’s that from?” I ask out of sheer curiosity.

“Flipper’s Taco Truck posted it. Owner said he met Drew earlier that night. That Drew enjoyed a couple fish tacos, then movies with friends.”

The corner of my mouth dares to curve up as I remember the movie, and how we held hands in a popcorn bucket. I lower my face while the memory washes over me, bringing a rush of warmth across my skin. Looking up, I school my expression, putting the poker face on once more. “We ran into each other. I was with my sister, and he was with his friend, so we all saw the movie together,” I explain, feeling like I’ve been called into the principal’s office even though Stuart’s not my boss. But he is in charge of the team’s image, and that’s what’s at stake.

“
You two just seemed . . .” He pauses, weighing his words. “Forgive me for playing matchmaker, but you seemed like you liked each other.”

I swallow, saying nothing.

He shrugs and flubs his lips. “Guess I was wrong. And that’s completely fine. Part of me was hoping I was right, though.”

His words don’t compute. For a moment, I’m sure I’ve misheard him. He can’t have said what I think he said. “Excuse me?”

“Gotta say, Dani, you two seemed like a happy couple. Like there was something brewing. Personally, I was happy about the possibility because I like you, and, selfishly, I like the idea of this happy couple on the team.”

I tilt my head to the side, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. And to make sure he’s not suggesting some sort of publicity stunt. Carefully, keeping my tone neutral, I ask, “What do you mean, Stuart?”

“Just that . . . well, let me be blunt.” He clasps his hands together. “With all the shit some of the bad seeds put us through last year, this potential love affair was looking to be a bright spot—the quarterback playing Skee-Ball with kids, and then with the woman he likes at a charity function,” he says, leaning back in his chair and chuckling, like this is the most amusing thing ever. “While I’d never ask you to date him for the press or pretend to be in a relationship, I was, admittedly, hoping you actually were.”

My jaw drops. It falls to the floor with a loud clang. I pick it up, reattach it, and blink several times. “You were truly hoping we were dating?”

This is the last thing I expected. Even though I’d planned to have a heart-to-heart with him, I never thought he’d actively
want
us to be together. I merely hoped I could work
something
out. Some sort of proviso that made it acceptable to go out with him since I’m not Drew’s direct boss, or something. An under-the-radar-screen type of approval.

Until I thought I was busted.

But in a way, Stuart’s reaction makes perfect sense. The team’s image problems stemmed from guys doing drugs and fathering more babies than they could handle. From wrecking cars and trashing hotel rooms. Not from holding hands at the movies, or playing arcade games on the beach.

Stuart drums his fingers on my desk. “When it comes to off-the-field sports stories, there’s little the public loves more than when the quarterback wins the heart of a good girl. But I guess that isn’t happening,” he says, sighing heavily. He stands and turns to leave. “I’m sorry if I was pushy.”

And I snap out of my fog. “Wait.”

He turns, an expectant look in his eyes. Time for me to woman up. Time to do what I planned to do mere minutes ago when I was ready to march into his office.
Speak the truth.

“You were right,” I say.

He cocks his head, waiting.

“About the vibe.”

He lifts his chin, a smile sneaking across his mouth. “I was?”

“Yes. I’ve tried to deny it because I thought it could hurt the team, but I’ve spent time with him at events, and have gotten to know him, and I do like him,” I say, owning my feelings, and leaving his off the table for the moment. As a lawyer by trade, I know how to present facts in order to protect others. My job right now is to take the risk for both of us, and I can handle putting my heart on the line.

Especially
given Stuart’s answer.

His smile spreads cheek to cheek. “Drew does like you. That was patently obvious,” he says, and I beam. I can’t help it. I love that Stuart could tell Drew feels the same. “And he has excellent taste.”

“Thank you,” I say, then furrow my brow. “It’s really okay?”

He laughs. “Just don’t crash a car, snort a line, or get knocked up too soon. Otherwise, we’re all good. Oh, no sex tapes either.”

My face turns the color of a fire engine. “You can count on that.”

When Stuart leaves, I text Drew.

Dani:
Sooooo . . . that idea you floated last night . . .

Drew:
The one where you show up at my house naked? Say that comes true tonight, please.

Dani:
Glad you’re still game for that.

Drew:
Game for you is exactly what I am. But, by idea, did you mean the idea to play whack-a-mole again?

Dani:
Yes, sort of. More like what it would take to play whack-a-mole with you.

Drew:
I like where this is going. Especially because it sounds dirty. But also, sweet. Continue.

Dani:
You said you wanted to make a go of it. That you thought Stuart was pleased. Turns out your instincts aren’t just good on the field.

Drew:
I rock in general, don’t you know that? But . . . be a little more specific. He’s pleased about what? The cafeteria at the stadium? The newest press release he wrote? Or . . . ?

Dani
: He gave me the thumbs-up to . . . well, to go out with you. I told him I kind of liked you.

Drew:
Holy shit. You did that for us? You talked to Stuart?

I give him the quick version of how it all went down, then send one more text.

Dani:
Please tell me you aren’t pissed.

Drew:
I’m fucking ecstatic. You are one badass, ballsy babe, and I’m crazy for you. And what you did makes me even crazier for you.

Dani:
Whew. I’ll take that brand of crazy.

Drew:
You deserve about a dozen orgasms. Good thing is, I know just the man who can deliver them.

Dani:
Make it a baker’s dozen please.

Drew:
Consider it done.

Chapter Eleven

Dani

There is a dinner at a cafe by the ocean. There is a walk from the beach to my house. There are delicious conversations along the way.

All that is part of tonight. But with the electric chemistry between us, there is mostly a low sexual hum in the air. A vibration between us that crackles and sparks, and we both know it’s about to combust the second we reach my front door.

Because there is permission.

In some ways, I feel foolish that we were so cautious. But in other ways, I don’t feel foolish for having played it—mostly—safe. We were able to get to know each other. We were able to talk and to chat. Sure, we skirted the line in his car, and we toyed with it again on the phone. But as we reach my porch, I know it’s different now than the last time we were here, and that difference makes me feel good about this choice. I unlock the green front door to my home and stumble inside with Drew Erickson. His hands are on my waist, his lips are on my shoulders, and the man hasn’t been able to keep his paws off me since . . . well, since this date started two hours ago.

Now, we both know what’s coming next.

Us.

The door snaps shut.

“Wanted this for so long,” he says, his voice smoky in my ear as he smothers my neck in kisses, his touch making the world around me glow. This is the definition of swooning. This is the meaning of weak in the knees. Look it up. It’s what he’s doing to me. My neck is his
playground,
and he covers it in caresses, gentle kisses, then hungrier nips. I never would have pegged him as a man so keen on kissing. But then, Drew Erickson has been surprising me from day one, when he bonked his head on a surfboard.

My stomach flips as he presses his lips to the hollow of my throat, then backs me up to my couch. I sink down on it, and he follows me, his big body pressed against mine.

Holy smokes.

He feels spectacular covering me like this even though we’re still clothed. I can only imagine what it will be like to be skin to skin with this man. My mind is a haze of lust and desire as his lips travel down my chest, and he tugs on my silky tank top. I sit up, pulling it off, then he works open my bra.

He groans when my breasts are free. “You’ve been hiding these beauties from me,” he says appreciatively as he cups them, playing with my flesh, pinching my nipples.

My hips buck up when he does that, and a burst of pleasure races straight to my core. “No more hide and seek now,” I say.

His eyes are wild with naughtiness as he kisses and sucks. He bites down, driving me wild, turning me on even more, and I’m already well past broiling. Then I reconsider my assessment when he takes off my skirt and yanks off my panties. I’m on fire as he drags one finger down my wet center.

“Oh God,” I moan.

“So slick and wet on my hand. I want to taste all this sweetness on my tongue.” He pulls my hips to the edge of my couch, kneels down, and spreads my legs wide. His gaze drifts to mine, as he growls, “I’ve gotten off to this image so many times. Now, I want you to come on my face.”

He
doesn’t need to tell me that twice. Because the second he buries his face between my legs, I don’t want to do anything else but chase an orgasm.

He licks a delicious line up my center, and I wriggle closer. Sparks ignite in my veins, and my skin sizzles with every lick, every touch, every kiss of my clit. He moans and murmurs as he goes down on me, and his sounds send me soaring. My body hums with desire, and I swear pleasure has camped out in every single molecule in my body. It’s all I feel. It’s all I am, as Drew laps me up, and the intensity builds with every consuming touch. Pressing his hands on my thighs, he spreads my legs wider, then drapes them over his shoulders.