Play Date (Play Makers Book 3) (5 page)

“You’re asking me if I noticed a good-looking, neglected blonde? As Deck would say, any answer I give is gonna be wrong.”

“So you
do
think she’s good-looking?” Erica arched a playful eyebrow. “There’s still time to keep that blind date. We haven’t consummated this clusterfuck yet.”

“Good point. Let’s sneak away for a few minutes. Just to make it legal.”

“If only.” She touched his cheek. “There’s something about her, right?”

“Who?”

“The schoolteacher. She seems so—well, I can’t pin it down, but it’s something. Ephemeral, maybe?”

“Yeah, like an angel.”

She grimaced. “And now I
am
jealous.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to be an angel. At least, not on the honeymoon. I wouldn’t be able to do half the stuff I’ve got planned.”

“Interesting. That’s what Sean said, too. That he felt like he was defiling her.”

“Why are we talking about Deck’s love life?” he demanded with a frustrated grin. “How about something for
me?”
When she pretended not to understand, he growled, “You know what I want, Mrs. Spurling.”

A buzz of excitement shot through her. Because she did in fact know what he wanted. So she stepped back and pulled the three diamond-studded clips out of her hair, allowing the locks to spill over her bare shoulders and back. Then, after flashing her wildest smile, she shook her head so that the whole mess spilled over her again.

His blue eyes blazed with arousal, and she knew he would have kissed her if a huge roar of applause hadn’t risen from the crowd.

Embarrassed but also laughing, she gave his hand a squeeze, then smiled at the well-wishers, who continued to cheer and clap while best man Bannerman shouted, “Take it off!”

“I’ll kill him,” Johnny muttered.

She laughed again, then decided it was the right moment to throw the garter, so she told her new husband, “Want to fondle my leg? For a good cause?”

He stared for a second, then got it and grinned. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

As he dropped to one knee, she lifted her skirts high on her thigh, provoking more catcalls from Bannerman, echoed this time by Jake “Dub” Dublin, Sean, and her new brother-in-law Jason.

“Make sure Sean catches it,” she begged Johnny, knowing his professional throwing arm could handle the assignment. And he gave it his best shot, but Dub surprised them all by diving in front of the kicker and scoring the prize for himself.

Which was actually perfect, since his romance with Sophie James was legendary.

Everyone howled and applauded again, and as Johnny and Dub took their bows, Erica swept her attention over the crowd until she found Rachel Gillette standing off by herself, her glamorous silvery-pink gown clinging to every perfect curve, her delicate face smiling with genuine affection as she watched the display.

An angel indeed.

Fixing her with a direct smile, she was delighted when the angel smiled back, again showing an airy quality that Erica intended to capture in an ad campaign soon.

But for now, she settled for waving at the lovely blonde, and was pleased when Rachel waved back, her eyes shining mischievously as though knowing they had a lot in common. Rachel had almost dated Erica’s husband. Now she was dating Sean, Erica’s favorite friend. Didn’t that guarantee future friendship for them as well?

Wrapping her arms around Johnny’s neck, she murmured, “As soon as we get back from the honeymoon, let’s have Sean and Rachel over for dinner.”

“Again with Deck’s love life?” He laughed in defeat. “Can we please get these stupid toasts over with?
You
may be thinking of others, but I’m feeling real selfish, and that bare leg gave me ideas.”

“Mmmm . . .” She dragged his head down and kissed him happily. And this time when the crowd cheered, the couple ignored them completely, knowing the honeymoon had begun a bit ahead of schedule.

• • •

Now you have a better reason to envy Erica, because yowza, he’s gonna rip her dress off.

Laughing, Rachel declared this trip from San Diego to Portland a success, even if nothing ever happened between her and Sean. Thanks to that thoughtful nod from Erica, she was officially part of something special. And someday, when she had a wedding of her own, she would plagiarize it without mercy.

She took another sip of her drink, then set it on the wall and stood to get a better view of the toasts.

First up was Johnny’s dad, the coach, who got so choked up he couldn’t make it through. Which of course made Rachel cry, but she had tissues, didn’t she? And since her date had abandoned her, she didn’t really care about streaked mascara.

Erica’s father was even worse, crying before they even gave him the microphone. Now
everyone
was sobbing, and Rachel was glad she’d brought a mirror and some powder. She wouldn’t risk missing a moment of this tearfest, so she turned her back to the crowd and dabbed at her eyes.

Next up was Sean, who was predictably adorable. Apparently his crush on Erica was the worst-kept secret in the world, because after a warm tribute to his best friend John, he waxed poetic about the bride.

What an idiot.

She smiled when Jake Dublin took the microphone from him. It had been so cute when he caught the garter, and she suspected he’d make good use of it.

And since Sophie was as much in love as he was . . .

He began with the hilarious story of his first encounter with Johnny Spurling, claiming that the quarterback had actually tried to strangle him for daring to make a move on his cousin. One glance at Johnny’s face confirmed that indeed, “Dub” had almost met his maker that day.

But instead, after a few setbacks, Sophie—a.k.a. “Elevator Girl,” since that was how Dub first thought of her—had become his girlfriend. Thereafter, if the toast was true, he had proposed to her a zillion times, always hearing the same thing: “Isn’t it a little soon?”

Now Dub laid it on the line. Johnny had known Erica for less than five months, and here they were, married. In contrast, Dub and Sophie had been together, at least in Dub’s mind, for
seven
months.

“So what do you say, Elevator Girl?” he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.

When Sophie bit her lip and nodded, her lover’s face lit up like the sun, his mischievous grin fading into disbelief. After shoving the microphone into the hand of best-man Bannerman, he strode up to her, dropped to one knee, and opened a ring box.

As the crowd held its collective breath she reached down, pulled him back to his feet, and threw herself into his arms.

It should have been the quintessential moment of the night, but Bannerman spoke playfully into the microphone, advising them to “Get a room, will ya?”

Rachel laughed, even though she knew it was a
faux pas
. Sure, the crowd loved it, but most of the wedding party, and particularly Beth, seemed ready to kill the irreverent hunk.

But not Rachel. She found him fascinating, mostly because he seemed like so much more than just a football player. Taller, broader, more evidently rippling of muscle, as though he had used that magnificent body recently and would do so again at the slightest prompting. There was something raw. Rangy. Scary, actually, despite his devastating grin. And his long brown hair streaked with gold just heightened the effect.

He’s like a time traveler from bygone times,
she decided with a sigh.
Ready to take the Colosseum by storm. Or a Norse warrior. Or . . .

She struggled for the perfect analogy. Not that it mattered. His only true relevance was his relationship with the other, more civilized members of the Triple Threat
.

After his opening joke, the gorgeous gladiator paid tribute to “John, the big dog.” And then to Erica, whom he proclaimed to be so hot, she should be allowed to have more than one husband. After insisting he had personally kissed her, so he knew whereof he spoke, his remarks took an unexpected left turn.

“So Dub—who’s obviously the most PW’d guy on the planet—talked about the big dog’s rush to the altar. What he forgot to mention was how John canceled a date with a smoking-hot schoolteacher to chase after Erica.”

Rachel froze, completely blindsided. Was this crazy man talking about
her?
In his
toast?

He continued cheerfully. “So we get it, right? Erica’s a babe. Who
wouldn’t
bang her if he had the chance? But it gets worse. Because my buddy over here, Sean Decker, inherited the dating rights to said hot teacher. But did he bang her? Nope. He left her un-banged, just like John did. Freaking unbelievable.”

As Rachel edged backward, desperate for a place to hide but hitting the atrium wall instead, she saw Jason Spurling grab Bannerman by the shirtfront and haul him off the stage, laughing all the way. And while she was mortified beyond belief, a part of her agreed with the crazy rant. These guys—Johnny, Sean,
everyone.
What the heck was their problem?

Beth, ever vigilant, pushed through the crowd and embraced her anxiously. “Are you okay? He’s a dead man, I promise. If Jayce doesn’t have the stones for it, I’ll kill him myself.”

Rachel wriggled free, laughing self-consciously. “I’m trying to keep a low profile here. Most of these people don’t know I’m the loser schoolteacher.”

“You’re not a loser. That effing Sasquatch is! Just say the word and I swear, I’ll castrate his ass.”

“That’s anatomically impossible. And totally unnecessary. Let’s focus on the good stuff, shall we? John and Erica are married. Sophie and Jake are engaged—
finally
. And you’re rocking that red dress like the Queen of Hearts.”

Beth relaxed enough to laugh. “That’s an insult, right? Because I’m bossy?”

“You? Never.”

Sean strode up to them, his adorable face creased with concern and guilt, and pulled Rachel into a protective hug. “Geezus, honey. I’m so sorry. Say the word and he’s dead.”

Beth poked a finger at his shoulder, her eyes blazing. “You’ve failed me for the last time, Sean Decker. Just disappear, since that’s obviously all you’re good for.”

“Beth!” Rachel eyed her sternly. “It wasn’t Sean’s fault. Or anybody’s. So let’s stop making a scene, please?”

“Yeah, Beth,” Sean drawled. “Go away. I’ve got this.”

“Since when?” Beth muttered.

He winced, then told Rachel, “That’s fair. I’ve been a bad date. But I’m ready to step up if you’ll let me.” To Beth he added coolly, “Looks like your husband’s about to make
his
toast. Shouldn’t you be there?”

“Oh, Lord, I really should.” She gave Rachel an apologetic smile. “He’ll get someone’s name wrong. Or talk about football.”

“Go,” Rachel urged with a laugh. “Sean will take care of me.”

Beth looked dubious, but Jason was indeed warming up with a few football jokes, so she gave Rachel a final hug, sent a death glare in Sean’s direction, and hurried away.

Sean touched Rachel’s cheek. “Bam’s a barbarian. We shouldn’t have let him speak in public.”

“It’s like Mark Antony at Caesar’s funeral, right? No one will remember what was said here today.”

“Huh?”

She smiled wearily. “I’m saying I’ve had a wonderful time on this date. So no worries. Really. My plan now is to go back to my room and watch TV. But I’ll need your help with that, because I have one final request.”

“Name it.”

“Cake.”

His handsome face beamed. “I can do cake. But wait here, okay? As soon as they slice it up, I’ll grab us a couple of pieces and we’ll go upstairs together. TV sounds like fun, actually. Especially with you.”

“What more could a girl want?” she asked lightly. “I’ll wait in the atrium while you say good-bye to Johnny and Erica. She looks like she needs a friend.”

“What?”

She groaned, amused but also frustrated that the ploy had worked. Apparently this guy really was in love with the bride. And maybe with the nameless blonde too.

But he was meeting the blonde behind a curtain, which didn’t bode well. More forbidden lust? He needed some levelheaded advice, or a shoulder to cry on, but it could wait. If they were destined to be platonic, TV-watching friends, they’d have lots of chances in the future.

For now, she just needed some fresh air and so, as soon as he threaded back toward the dais, she made her way to the atrium, hurried to the far corner, and snuck out into the misty night air through an unobtrusive iron gate leading to another, more secluded patio. This one wasn’t covered at all, which made it a little damper and a lot colder. But there were pinpoints of light in the sky despite the clouds, and she needed those. San Diego had spoiled her with stars almost every night. Crashing waves. Spicy food. Portland seemed tame in comparison, and so she leaned her head back and let the misty night wash over her.

“Hey, teach,” came an oddly familiar voice from behind her.

She spun toward it, saw the huge gladiator, and laughed in spite of herself. “You?”

“Are you mad at me?” He walked right up to her and planted his hands on her hips. “The Sarge says you’re pissed, so it must’ve come out wrong. I swear it was a compliment.”

“It’s fine,” she murmured, shocked by the contact. But the air was so cold, and his body so hot, she couldn’t quite manage to pull away.

“Man, you feel good. Wanna fool around?” Without waiting for an answer, he kissed her, his mouth hungry, his tongue inquisitive. And because he was her only source of heat, she responded instinctively.

He flashed a broad smile. “Nice.”

She had no training for this, and said weakly, “You’re Mr. Bannerman, right?”

He roared with laughter, said, “Call me Bam,” then pulled her closer, cupping her breast with his rough hand. “Are you sure you’re a teacher? ’Cause this is stripper-level stuff.”

“Stop it,” she said, but for some reason she was laughing out loud. And meanwhile, he was getting hard. And not just hard, but huge and hard and grinding so provocatively against her, she couldn’t help grinding back, mostly in disbelief.

Then they kissed again, this time with less focus on getting acquainted and more on getting it on.