The Name of the Game (33 page)

He crawled out of bed, pulling on sweats and a white T-shirt, before splashing water on his face and brushing his teeth.

He stared into the mirror. Did he tell her he'd quit his job? Yes, he had. He sighed. Well, he didn't know how, but they were going to have to work this out. Because he couldn't live without Gracie Roberts driving him crazy.

Now he had to find her again.

Lucky for him, he didn't have to search far.

He walked downstairs and there she was, sitting on his couch. Evan, Shane, and Cecilia were there too. Evan had his arm draped over the couch, and he rubbed Gracie's back.

“Get your hands off her,” James said in a growl, his voice far louder than he'd intended.

Four surprised faces stared up at him.

Shane cocked a brow. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Shut up.” James stopped at the bottom step and gripped the railing. “I mean it, Evan, get your fucking hands off her.”

Evan held up his hands. “Dude, I was comforting her.”

“I don't care. Stop it.” Apparently, James wasn't entirely sober yet because this was highly unlike him. Or was it? Hadn't he had thoughts like this before and repressed them?

Gracie shifted more fully to face him, and James relaxed. Her blue eyes danced and she waved a hand through the air. “I guess drinking turns him possessive.”

“Wrong. I've always been possessive of you. I just didn't want you to know it.” And there was the truth. He'd just unleashed it.

“I see.” Her lashes fluttered up at him, and she smiled. “I should probably discourage this type of behavior.”

He shrugged. “I don't see why, since this kind of thing is right up your alley.”

Shane, Evan, and Cecilia laughed.

Gracie scowled. “Hey!”

Cecilia crossed her legs and snuggled up next to Shane. “Well, he's kind of got you there.”

James worked his face into a stern expression he didn't really feel. “I accept that I have to put up with total strangers hitting on you, but I draw the line at my friends and family. I think that's fair.”

Evan frowned. “I wasn't hitting on her.”

“I'm just making myself clear,” James said, his tone implacable.

Gracie ran a hand through her hair. “What about Anne?”

James pretended to contemplate this for several seconds before he nodded. “Fine, I'll let you have Anne.”

Her head tilted as though deep in thought. “Deal. See, I can compromise.”

James gave her a droll look. “Jane will be so pleased.”

Gracie raised her gaze to his.

He crooked his finger. “Come on, we have things to discuss.”

He didn't miss the hitch in her breath or how she scrambled off the couch. He turned his attention to his family. “I trust you'll get the hell out of here.”

Cecilia smiled up at Shane. “Your quiet, mild-mannered brother is kicking us out of his house.”

Shane rubbed his fingers over her neck. “Looks like it.”

James didn't bother listening to the rest of the conversation. Instead, he grabbed Gracie's wrist and dragged her upstairs like a caveman. He shoved her into the bedroom, slammed the door shut, and pushed her to the bed.

“James,” she said, her tone admonishing, but her eyes were dark with heat.

He flicked a gaze over her. “Let's stop pretending, shall we?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

He climbed onto the bed, straddling her. He manacled her wrists with his hands and brought them over her head.

Her breath came fast.

“We both know me bossing you around in the bedroom makes you so hot I could light a match off you.”

She moaned and arched. “Okay.”

He leaned down and nipped her neck, scraping his teeth over her sensitive skin. “If you give me free rein during sex, I figure it will help curb my controlling tendencies in the rest of our lives.”

“Deal,” she said, breathless now.

He licked her collarbone, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her neck, loving the way she practically purred under his lips.

Releasing her wrists, he raised his head and waited until her lashes lifted and she met his gaze. And then he spoke from his heart, with no protection, and no reserve. “I'm sorry, Gracie. I should never have gone behind your back. I have no good excuse. I was afraid. I wanted to find a way to keep you and I didn't know how. I know I'm not what you envisioned as the love of your life, but I promise, if you'll let me, I'll make you happy.”

Her blue eyes brightened with unshed tears. She reached for him, stroking her capable fingers down his cheek. “Oh, James, you're wrong. You're exactly what I envisioned, since the moment I met you. I was too stubborn to admit it.”

He kissed her fingertips. “Good. I will never go behind your back like that again.”

She smiled. “You'd better not, or I will make your life a living hell.”

He laughed. “Been there, don't want to go back. You're right, you know, I was protecting myself. I wanted you to take the risk. I didn't push you to talk, even when I knew I should, because I didn't want you to think too hard about the fact that you were in an actual relationship with me.”

She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him down to nip his bottom lip before she said, “I'm sorry too. I guess after all this time, you bought the story I kept telling you about how wrong you are for me. But it's a lie. I need a man like you, even when it's hard for me. I wanted what you gave me so bad, I pushed you away when the truth is, I've never loved anyone more.”

God, he adored this woman. “Gracie, you mean everything to me. I love you and I need you in my life. If that means I have to move to Revival, I will.”

Her curls splashed across his white pillow as she tilted her head. “You know, when you were sleeping, it occurred to me that we were thinking about this all wrong.”

“How so?” He ran his hand down her stomach. “Take your shirt off.”

Her gaze fluttered over his chest. “You too.”

He stripped the cotton T-shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. A second later she followed suit. He jerked his chin. “Bra.”

“You're really taking this bossy thing seriously, aren't you?” she said, her tone amused as she reached behind and unclasped her bra and peeled the cups down. The lace dangled from her fingers for a moment before falling to the floor.

In answer he glanced down at her spectacular breasts. “Your nipples are hard.”

She punched his arm, and everything jiggled deliciously.

He clasped her hand and held it down on the bed. “That's going to cost you.”

He laughed when she shuddered under him. “Now what were you saying?”

She licked her lips like a hungry cat. His little temptress. “Well, you're a professor, so you have flexibility. Right?”

He nodded, slid down her body and licked her nipple.

Her fingers tightened on his. “Stop. I can't concentrate when you do that.”

“Go on,” he said, sucking the hard bud between his lips.

She gasped, her nails digging into his skin. “I have Harmony to help me now. She's talented and her skills in business make her the perfect fit. The Chicago orders are piling up, and I can't deny I don't want to turn them down.”

“I'm listening,” he said, moving to her other breast to play.

“So, it occurred to me, why do we have to choose?”

He raised his head and looked at her. “How?”

“We can split our time between Chicago and Revival. While you were out cold, Shane apologized but then went on to explain how he thought a storefront was possible. I'm not sure how I feel about him backing me, but Cecilia was on board by then, and you know how convincing the two of them together can be.”

“I do know,” James said. “Do you think it would really work?”

“I've been thinking about it a lot, and I don't see why not. Sometimes we'll need to spend more time in one place than the other, and I'm sure that as I'm getting the bakery up and running I'll have to spend more time in Chicago, but I think it will even out.”

James turned the idea over in his mind, liking it. He could live part-time in Revival. He had family there, ties. And so did Gracie. Ties he wanted to support instead of sever. “I like it. And we'll make it work.”

She tugged him down. “We will.”

He brushed his mouth over hers. “I wish my dad could have met you. He'd have loved you.”

Tears spilled over her lashes. “My mom too.”

He wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “I love you, Gracie.”

“I love you too,” she said, tilting her head up for a kiss.

It was going to work out. He'd get to keep his girl. She'd be his, and damned if he wouldn't make sure everyone knew it. His mouth settled over hers. Their lips melding in a promise of the life they'd build together. Satisfaction and peace settled deep into his bones. He understood now.

Sometimes a man could have his cake and eat it too.

Love the Donovans?

 

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available in April 2016.

Penelope Watkins surveyed the crowded dance floor with a weary gaze as her best friend tugged her hand and whined, “Please, come dance with me.”

Penelope turned her attention to Sophie Kincaid—who looked like a rogue Disney princess in a powder-blue spaghetti-strap dress that set off her blond hair and doe eyes—with a heavy sigh.

Was she the only person ready for the wedding of the century to end? She scanned the room, still crowded with guests. Even after midnight, the music was cranked up to concert decibels and the dance floor was packed. Apparently, she was.

Her head ached. She'd already taken three Advil. All she wanted was her bed, but as a bridesmaid at Shane and Cecilia Donovan's wedding, and Chicago's hottest power couple, she had to stay until the bitter end. Not that she wasn't ecstatic for them, because of course she was. Shane wasn't only her boss but her friend as well, and over the last year she'd grown quite close to his new wife, Cecilia.

She just wanted to go home.

Penelope shook her head, glaring at her best friend's four-inch heels. “Aren't your feet killing you?”

“Hell no, come on. I need you to do a slutty little dance with me. I'm trying to drive Logan mad with lust.” Sophie gripped Penelope's hand a little tighter and peered over her shoulder at the man in question, sighing.

Penelope couldn't blame her. Logan Buchanan was the very definition of tall, dark, and dangerous. With sharp, watchful blue eyes, and a commanding presence that filled a room, he was the kind of man a woman was supposed to get excited about. Unfortunately, he had no effect on Penelope. Nope, she had to be stubborn and pine away for the first boy she'd fallen in puppy love with at the age of six.

If she'd had any brains at all, she would have befriended Tiffany White, who had all sisters, the first day of kindergarten, but no, she had to sit next to Maddie Donovan.

But how was she to know she'd take one look at Maddie's older brother and become instantly infatuated? Up until then, she'd thought boys were icky.

Unable to help herself, she scanned the room for the man in question. At six-five, Evan Donovan wasn't hard to pick out of a crowd, but he was nowhere to be found.

She took a drink of water. Good. At least she didn't have to look at the Barbie doll he'd brought to his brother's wedding. Penelope was still cringing at the blond girl with the minuscule dress, mermaid-extensioned hair, and flotation-device breasts. Some football groupie—a wannabe model, if Penelope had to guess.

Aka, his normal type, otherwise known as Penelope's exact opposite.

She shook her head. No. She would not start down that road.

She turned back to Sophie, who was standing there expectantly, and smiled. “If you want to drive Logan crazy, I'm not your girl. We are strictly in the friend zone.”

Besides, she wasn't really the type to drive men mad with lust. She was attractive enough, with classic bone structure and well-formed features. Tired of wearing glasses, she'd treated herself to Lasik surgery six months ago and she'd been told by numerous dates that her blue eyes were startling against her rich, dark hair. At five-seven she had a nice, trim figure that she kept in shape with workouts at the gym, yoga, and running along the lakeshore. Overall, her looks were nothing to complain about. She had a nice face and a healthy, fit body, but being sexy wasn't important to her.

Sophie puffed out her lip in a pout that would sway most people, but had little effect on Penelope. “Isn't this just my luck? Since I really wanted to cause a scene, I tried to coerce Gracie, but stupid James said no.” Sophie released her grip and threw her hands up in the air in frustration. “And she listened! I mean, what the hell is that?”

Since Gracie Roberts was one of the sexiest women on the planet, it was a smart choice on Sophie's part, only she hadn't considered the middle Donovan brother's hold on the other woman. A pairing Penelope had never seen coming, but damned if it didn't seem to be working. James hadn't tamed the sex goddess per se, but when he spoke, Gracie paid attention.

In sympathy, Penelope sighed. “I guess that's what happens with new love.”

“Well, it's annoying.” Sophie grabbed her hand again. “Now come dance.”

“I've got a headache.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I don't expect you to put out after.”

Penelope grinned. God, she loved her friends. Needed them to remind her to do something other than work. Remember how to have fun. It wasn't that she didn't like fun, she did. It was only that so many other things required her attention. Between her demanding work schedule and watching over her parents, fun wasn't a priority. And that's where Sophie and Maddie came in, to reset her priorities. Why, if it weren't for the two of them, Penelope would have spent her childhood getting into no trouble at all.

Well, except for one thing, but Penelope refused to think about that.

As if Maddie sensed her thoughts, she ran over to them, her heavy auburn hair spilling from the topknot after the long night of dancing. The long skirts of the jeweled, deep purple bridesmaid dress, which matched Penelope's, flounced as she came to a stop. She grinned. “What's up?”

Sophie huffed, jerking her finger toward the dance floor. “Penelope won't dance with me so I can seduce Logan.”

Maddie threw an arm around her and squeezed. “I'll dance with you. We'll give everyone a show.”

Sophie's face lit with excitement. “Mitch will be jealous.”

Maddie laughed, waving a hand. “I know. I'm in the mood for dirty sex and this is just the kind of thing that sets him off.” Maddie gave a little shudder, obviously thinking about the dirty things her husband had already done to her.

Penelope laughed. Okay, she needed to shake off this mood, put her headache aside, and go party it up with her girlfriends. With Maddie living in the small town of Revival miles away from Chicago, they didn't get this chance very often, and Penelope refused to waste it.

She looked at her friends, who wore twin expressions filled with the same reckless, excited anticipation that had convinced her to ditch seventh period and hang out at the forest preserve with a bunch of bad boys from the public school, and smiled. “You guys go. I need to run to the ladies' room and then I'll come find you on the dance floor.”

Maddie rocked on her heels. “Promise?”

“Yep.” And everyone knew her word was gold.

Sophie winked and skipped off with Maddie, the two of them holding hands and laughing. A surefire sign they were up to no good, and Penelope had no doubt she'd return to find them gyrating on the dance floor, causing quite the scene. If Logan would notice was anyone's guess, but Maddie's husband, Mitch, was bound to enjoy himself.

Penelope weaved through the crowd, pausing a few times to talk to a coworker, before she finally reached the hallway. Instead of heading to the bathroom, she veered right and headed toward the balcony, needing to clear her head.

She pushed open the door and the cool spring air washed over her. She breathed in deep, her pounding head instantly easing with the music now only a distant, muffled beat. Small clusters of people filled the expanse of the balcony, enjoying the first hints of warm weather after a long, frigid Chicago winter.

Penelope searched the area for a secluded spot where she could be alone. She didn't want to talk. She wanted quiet. To stand by herself and let the night air and view of the skyline soothe her aching mind. She finally found what she was looking for, tucked into the corner: a concrete structure that partially obstructed the view. She walked over to it and tucked herself into the corner, resting her elbows on the rails. She closed her eyes as a breeze blew over her skin and ruffled the strands of hair curling around her face. Finally, some quiet.

And that's when she heard a giggle.

Penelope's shoulders stiffened and she craned her neck, dread already pooling in the pit of her stomach. When her gaze locked with Evan's, she wasn't the least bit surprised.

Even in the dim glow of the lights, she could see his vivid green eyes boring into hers. His tux jacket was undone, along with his shirt, exposing the cords of his neck and barest hint of his strong chest. With his dark hair and strong, chiseled features he was so sinfully gorgeous it was nauseating. He was also wild, reckless, and didn't care about anything but football and screwing as many women as possible.

The girl he'd brought was on her knees, working at his belt buckle. She peered over at Penelope and smiled with glossy, over-collagened lips. “Oops, busted.”

Evan's eyes didn't leave Penelope's. “Hey, little Penny.”

He knew she hated when he called her that. She wanted to scream at him. Throw something. Kick him. But that wasn't the role she played. So she swallowed her emotions and turned, keeping her expression cool and impassive. She flicked a dismissive glance at the woman, who didn't have the decency to get off her knees, and smirked. “Evan. I see your girlfriend's mom let her out past curfew.”

This wasn't the first time this had happened, and it wouldn't be the last. Sometimes Penelope wondered if he did it on purpose. Just to hurt her. Although, in fairness, that probably gave him too much credit. Penelope doubted he thought that deeply.

The girl rose, and plastered her hands on spandex-encased hips. “I'm twenty-two.”

Penelope laughed, and let her eyes go wide. “Wow, twenty-two, you're practically ancient.”

“Who is this woman?” the girl asked, her voice filled with scorn.

Penelope shifted her attention back to Evan. “I'm nobody.”

“Evan?” his date asked, slithering alongside him.

His expression flickered. “She's my sister's best friend.”

“Nobody you need to concern yourself with,” Penelope said.

“I didn't think so.” The girl flipped her hair, but her eyes were wary behind her overly mascaraed lashes. The girl might be young but she was no fool, and she sensed the undercurrents lacing the air. She looked back at Evan, who still watched Penelope as though searching for something in her expression. The girl's lips curled. “You're hardly his type.”

True, since he never seemed to date anyone over twenty-five. Penelope gave the child her sweetest smile. “Of course not, I'm an adult.”

The girl opened her mouth to say something, but Evan shook his head and encircled her wrist. “Go wait for me inside, babe.”

She pouted. “But Evan . . .”

“Go. I'll be there in a minute.”

Penelope held up her hands. “No, don't let me bother you. I'm leaving.”

He looked like he was about to say something, but then he stopped, and shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

The girl curled into Evan, draping her perfect
Playboy
body all over him, and giving Penelope a smug smile. “You didn't forget your walker, did you?”

Evan's jaw tightened, and for a fraction of a second Penelope thought he'd be decent and put the girl in her place, but then his expression smoothed over to impassive.

His response stuck like a thorn in her side, reminding her just how much she didn't like him. She shifted her attention back to the twenty-two-year-old. “By the way, he doesn't know your name.”

The girl blinked, and her smugness fell away. “Um, yeah, he does.”

Penelope shook her head. “Nope. Sorry. He always calls you girls ‘babe' when he doesn't remember.” She flicked a glance at Evan. “Have fun.”

Then, before she could get caught up in any more of his crap, she turned and walked away.

Last thing she heard was “babe” asking Evan what her name was, but Penelope didn't have to stick around to wait for the answer. She knew Evan, and he had no idea.

Of course, being as he was a famous, bad-boy football player who was reported to be notoriously insatiable and wild, Penelope knew it wouldn't matter. Evan would get his blow job, and probably a hundred other things before the night was through.

Little things like names didn't matter in the NFL.

Penelope slipped back inside and hurried down the hallway, searching for a place to collect herself. When she found a tiny alcove at the end of a corridor, she rested against the wall, squeezing her lids tight.

For a smart woman, she sure was stupid.

She had everything she could want from life. A great house, success, respect, friends, and a family who loved her. She had an MBA from Northwestern, and was admired by her colleagues for her logical, analytical brain, which could solve even the toughest of problems.

And what was she doing with all these brains of hers? Still pining for Evan Donovan.

It was so ridiculous and frustrating. Crushes that began at six were supposed to end. They weren't supposed to plague her at thirty-one.

She rubbed at her temples. She'd tried countless times over the years to talk herself out of him, but it hadn't worked. Ironically, her heart seemed to be the only impetuous, self-destructive thing about her.

And she'd tried. God knew how hard she'd tried. She'd dated plenty of men—good men who appreciated her and treated her the way she deserved—and still she couldn't forget Evan, or the past that meant more to her than to him. He lingered in the back of her mind, always present.

She didn't even like the man he'd become—if he could even be called a man. More like an overgrown frat boy. The grown-up version of Evan, she could get over. Only her memories wouldn't allow that. No matter how many times she'd told herself the boy she'd known was a figment of her imagination, her heart refused to believe. And, thus, like every bad country song ever written, she pined for a man who would never love her in return.