Quarterback Sneak (3 page)

Why on earth have erotic thoughts
about Max, anyway? Good old Max. Doing her a favor.

Staring at herself standing in her
bra and thong before her mirror, she wondered what Max would think of her body.
She pinched one of her nipples through the satin covering, trying to imagine
Max’s touch there instead of hers. Sliding her hand down across her tummy and
inside the silk of her thong, she paused at her mound. As if they had a mind of
their own, her fingers stole into the wet slit and found her clitoris.

Ohhh!

Closing her eyes, she pretended the
touch belonged to Max. That
he
rubbed the bundle of hot flesh in a
steady rhythm. Plunging two fingers into her soaked cunt. Lifting her hand to
lick her juices from the skin.

Her eyes flew open.

What the hell?

I’m losing my mind. It’s that
crazy plan I agreed to. And my bruised ego.

But was it? Really?

It was the damn kiss. It had to be.
Who knew good old familiar Max Sullivan could kiss like a devil? Or that the
mere touch of his mouth would set her entire body on fire?

Shaking herself out of the sensual
fog, she turned back to the problem at hand. They’d planned a Valentine’s Day
campaign, so she should probably choose an outfit accordingly. Start out right.
She found a flirty red skirt she had forgotten about in the back of her closet
and matched it with a white cami and a red and white jacket. She took extra
pains with her makeup, even pulling out a red lipstick she hadn’t used in
forever. On a whim, she decided to wear her hair loose instead of pulled back
in a clip, and dug out a large pair of gold hoop earrings.

Stacy considered her reflection
again. Was she making a mistake?

Hope I don’t look like I’m going
to a costume party. Or trolling for tricks.

Well, never up never in, as they
say in golf. Or at least as one boring date used to quote all the time.

In the elevator riding up to the
magazine offices, she noticed some of the men slanting glances at her. Usually
she ignored them—not that any of them had shown blatant interest. Today,
however, her lips curved in a tiny smile as she stared straight ahead.

“Wow!” Deedee, the receptionist,
stared at her. “New hairdo? You look—amazing.”

“Thanks.” She passed out another
smile as she picked up her messages and breezed down the hall to her cubicle.

“Hey, Stacy.” Janelle, one of the
other writers, entered from the break room. “Did you get—?” She stopped so
suddenly, coffee sloshed over the rim of her mug. “Wow, Stacy.” She raked her
gaze from top to bottom. “Just wow! What did you do to yourself?”

Stacy didn’t know whether to laugh
or punch the woman out. Instead, she gave a nonchalant shrug as she put her
purse away. “Nothing special. I thought I’d wear a little brighter getup than
usual.”

“Brighter? You’re a whole new
person.” Janelle’s face reddened. “I mean, not that you don’t always look fab—”

Stacy waved a hand at her. “It’s
okay. I know my fashion sense sometimes leaves a lot to be desired.” A sin for
a woman’s mag writer. Why hadn’t she thought about that before? “No problem.
Anything going on I should know about?”

“New assignments at the staff
meeting later this morning.” Janelle lifted a shoulder. “That’s about it.”

“Okay, then. Good. Well, I guess
I’ll get to work.”

Concentrating became harder as each
hour passed. Would Max actually show up as he promised? Take her to lunch? What
would everyone say when quarterback Max Sullivan came to pick her up? She tried
not to fidget during the staff meeting, dutifully taking assignments notes on
her iPad, but she rose with relief when it was over.

Everyone was leaving the conference
room when Deedee charged in, carrying a huge padded envelope.

“Stacy,” she squealed. “A delivery
guy brought this for you.”

“What’s that?” Stacy stared at what
the receptionist was holding as if it might bite her.

“Whatever it is, what’s inside sure
is huge.” Janelle kept her eyes glued to the package.

“Open it,” someone urged.

The outside had only her name and
office number on it. No return address. She set it on the table, pulled back
the sealed flap, and eased out the biggest heart-shaped box she had ever seen.
She lifted the lid, her eyes widening at the enormous array of chocolates
displayed inside.

“Holy crap!” Janelle said. “That’s
some box of sweets. Who sent it? Are you keeping secrets from us, Stacy?”

Max came to mind immediately. He’d
said candy and flowers. What an outrageous gesture to kick off their campaign.
She swallowed her smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such
an elaborate box of chocolates,” one of the other writers said. “Except in a
magazine. Or a store in New York.”

“There’s no return address or
anything,” Stacy addressed Deedee. “Did the messenger give you a clue who
ordered the delivery?”

The receptionist shrugged. “He
wouldn’t tell me a thing. Just said he got a call from the candy store for a
pickup and delivery.” She slipped her hand inside the envelope. “Oh, look.
There’s a card.” She flipped it open. “
From your secret admirer. Will you be
my Valentine?
Holy shit, Stacy. When did you get a secret admirer?”

If only it were an admirer,
unless Max…but no, despite the
practice
kiss, we’re just friends.

“Well?” Deedee prodded. “Where did
you come up with a guy like this?”

Stacy frowned at the other woman.
“You don’t think I can attract one? Am I so unappealing?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Deedee
fluffed her hair, a gesture Stacy always found annoying. “Except you never…”

I know, I know. I never.
“Never
mind.”

The other women around her wore
expressions of avid curiosity and pointed to the open box.

“Have a piece of chocolate,
everyone. Have several. I’ll never eat it all by myself. If I do, I won’t fit
behind my desk.”

The sweet confections were
melt-in-your-mouth heavenly. Stacy let one roll around on her tongue, the rich
flavor of the chocolate and peppermint exploding. Whoever ordered the delivery
deserved a big kiss. She hoped it was Max because she sure had enjoyed that
kiss the night before. Even if the unexpected sizzle had totally shocked her.

She carried the candy back to her
cubicle and booted up her computer, determined to get some work done. She had
assignments already in the works, one due the following week. Focused on her
writing, she jerked her head up at a familiar voice.

“Knock knock.”

Kurt lounged in her doorway,
jacketless, sleeves rolled up, a big grin on his face. Butterflies danced a
jitterbug in her stomach as she remembered the last time they’d been naked
together.

“Rumor has it you’re the new queen
of chocolates.” He chuckled.

She saved her document and turned
to face him. “And they are delicious.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t think of
sending them myself.” His gaze raked over her as if his eyes were undressing
her. “New outfit? I like it. Very sexy.”

Oh, my God. Men are so
predictable.
Max called it. How interesting what a flirty outfit and a
mysterious admirer could do to a situation. If she’d shown up in her usual
slacks and sweater, without the secret admirer, would he even have known she
came to work?

“Thanks.” She gestured at the box.
“Have some candy, why don’t you?”

“Won’t your ‘secret admirer’ object
to you giving them to another guy?” He used his fingers to gesture air quotes.

“Why?” She deliberately plucked a
chocolate from where it nestled in the box and popped it into her mouth. “Is
there some reason he should be jealous?”

Kurt unkinked himself from the doorjamb and ambled over to
her desk. “There might be. Who is this guy, anyway? How come no one has ever
met him? And where was he when you and I were doing the horizontal tango?”

“He was there all the time,” a deep
voice boomed from behind him.

Kurt’s head whipped around.

Max appeared behind Kurt, a fake
smile plastered on his face although a touch of anger flashed in his eyes.
“Stacy and I had a little misunderstanding. No biggie. It’s all patched up now.
Anyway, she won’t be doing the tango with anyone else anymore. Her dance card
is filled.”

Deedee stood in the doorway, eyes
wide, face flushed with excitement. “Sorry, Stacy. He said you were expecting
him and just breezed on past me.”

“No problem. He’s right. Go on back
to your desk.”

Deedee was a statue in the doorway eyed
Max like he was a piece of candy in that box.

“Go on, Deedee,” Stacy repeated.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. “Wait,
you’re Max Sullivan, right?”

Max put on his professional
smile—the one he used when local news interviewed him after a triumph on the
field.

“Yes. And you would be?”

“Kurt Macallister.” He reached out
a hand. “I never miss a Warriors game. ESPN is still replaying that video of
the Hail Mary pass you threw in the game against the Patriots.”

“Yeah, my fifteen minutes of fame,”
he joked.

Stacy watched the two men in her
tiny office space and smiled to herself. She could almost hear Kurt’s brain
burning as he tried to figure out what she was doing with Max Sullivan. Max, on
the other hand, behaved pleasant but aloof and looked as if he wished Kurt
would get out of there already.

Winking at Stacy, he walked around
the other man, lifted her from her chair, and pulled her in tight to his chest.
Then, without further warning, he brought his lips down on hers in a kiss that
curled her toes and sent moisture flooding her panties. His body was hard
against hers.
All of him
was hard including his rock-hard penis
imprinting itself on her flesh through her flirty little skirt.

If he gave a performance, it was a
damn good one. So good her wits scattered like leaves in a breeze.

“Well.” Vaguely, Stacy heard
someone clearing his throat. “Apparently this isn’t a good time to chat with
you.”

She opened her eyes and glanced
over Max’s shoulder. Kurt still stood in front of her desk, hands in his pockets,
irritation and maybe jealousy lining his face.

Max lifted his mouth from hers.
“Yeah, that’s right. Stacy’s leaving for lunch and won’t be back for a while.”
He turned his face to Stacy, still holding her close to him. “You ready,
sugar?”

Stacy’s head spun. She barely heard
whatever comeback Kurt made, too busy staring at Max through lust-clouded eyes.
Lordy, the man was gorgeous. Clad in black slacks and a black V-neck sweater,
with a smidgen of sexy chest hair peeking over the ribbing, his outfit
practically matched his hair, and the blue in his eyes appeared deeper than
ever. He topped it all with an elegant camel colored sport jacket and a smile
that came straight from the devil himself.

“Get your purse, Stacy,” he told
her. “Time to go.”

“Um,” was all she could manage.

Max took a step back, his sensuous
mouth crooked up in a smile. Sensuous mouth? When had she put those two words
and Max together?

“Stacy? You ready, sweetheart?” His
warm voice wrapped itself around her like an erotic blanket.

“Uh, yes. Let me get my purse.”

Pulling her scrambled brains
together, she managed to retrieve her bag from her desk drawer without dropping
it.

“She may be late getting back,” he
told a dumbfounded Deedee as they sailed into the hallway.

It was almost humorous the way
heads popped out of cubicles and eyes stared at them as they made their way to
the elevator. Almost, but not quite because, again, it brought home to Stacy
people’s surprise at a man—any man, let alone one like Max Sullivan—sending her
giant boxes of chocolates, giving her the kiss of the century in her office,
then sweeping her off to lunch. She might have dwelt on it longer only Max
urged her into the elevator and pressed the Down button so the doors would
close immediately.

“Think that made an impression?” he
asked with a grin.

“More like a sinkhole,” she told
him now that she could catch her breath. “Wow!”

“The guy in your office who glared
as if he wanted to shoot me. I take it he’s resident asshole?”

She nodded. “That’s Kurt.”

“Forgive me for saying so, Stacy.
That guy even looks like an asshole. I need to talk to you about your taste in
men.”

“Not today, okay?” How to tell him
she really wanted to pretend what they were enjoying was a fun, romantic
luncheon and she didn’t want to talk about Kurt or anyone else? He’d think her
nuts. The whole plan was all pretend and she had to keep that in mind. Even
though her brain was still fogged from that kiss.

“I can already tell he’s a loser.”
He hugged her against him and gave her a playful grin. “I’m so much handsomer.
And much nicer.”

Was he only teasing her? More of
his usual Max-type jokes? For an insane moment, she wanted this to be real.

While she wondered, he kissed her
on the cheek. Just a gentle brush of lips against her overheated skin, but fire
cascaded through her blood as if struck with a match. What went on with her
body and Max? He’d kissed her three times, each completely different than the
others. And each one had scorched her inside out and made every erogenous zone
in her body do an up-tempo happy dance.

With Max?

Good thing they were going
someplace with people around. She needed to clear her head.

“You know,” she told him, “you
don’t really have to take me to lunch. I can grab a bite, stay away an
appropriate length of time, then go back to the office.”

He turned her to face him. “We have
a deal,” he reminded her. “And I always keep my word. Maybe we should go
somewhere people who know the asshole will see us and word can get back to
him.”