Playing for Kicks (Play Makers Book 5) (7 page)

Frustrated, he insisted, “We’re going inside.
Now. And no, it’s not about the virginity thing. It’s about
every
thing. And I’m glad you’re here, because we’ve put it
off long enough.”

• • •

It took a few minutes to wash up and make
coffee, but he needed to do this right. So he encouraged her to
look around his house, since she had only been there once and had
spent the whole time in bed. Her choice, not his. And it had ended
in tears after one of their usual arguments about Erica’s
quote-unquote hold on him.

When he returned to the living room with a
tray of coffee and cookies, he groaned to see she had taken off her
top and bra. Assuming there had been a bra in the first place.

It didn’t have the desired effect. He was way
past that. But he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, since she was
justifiably proud of her breasts.

So he said in an even tone, “Put your top
back on, Kerrie. We agreed to talk, remember?”

“You’re so handsome when you’re frustrated,”
she teased him. “How about a compromise? We talk
while
we do
it.”

“No.” He set the tray on the coffee table.
“You know where this is going, honey. And I’m sorry. But we can’t
put it off any longer.”

“So we talk first?
Then
fool around?”
She flashed a sexy smile as she pulled the top back on. “I guess I
can live with that.”

This was it. He had to be strong. So he
insisted, “The problem is, once you hear what I have to say, you
won’t want to have sex with me. Not ever again. And that’s
understandable. But it still has to be said.”

Something flickered in her eyes. Almost as if
she had finally gotten the message. Then she shrugged and said,
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. It depends how mean you are about
it.”

“I’m not trying to be mean,” he
protested.

“Fine. Then we’ll play it by ear. You can say
what you want to say. And if I still want to have sex after
that—even if it’s the last time—we’ll do it.”

“You won’t want to,” he repeated, taking a
seat. “And I feel bad about that. But it can’t be helped.”

“Fine,” she repeated coolly. “Let’s hear
it.”

Shocked by her direct manner, he forced
himself to blurt out his prepared speech. “You’re an amazing
person, Kerrie, and I respect the hell out of you. You
know
that. And I take full responsibility for all this, but it can’t go
on. We’re so different. So mismatched. I’m basically a dud. And
you’re a vibrant, exciting woman. You want passion and melodrama
and intrigue. I want quiet walks in the woods and pizza. I can’t
satisfy you. And
you,”
he added carefully, “can’t satisfy
me.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then
murmured, “You’re breaking up with me? After I divorced Coz for
you?”

Luckily, Sean had anticipated this objection.
“You needed to get away from him anyway, remember? Because he
treated you like shit. And the truth is . . .” He exhaled
sharply. “You’ve been dragging your feet on the divorce. And we
both know why. You get a thrill out of sneaking around. Meeting in
motels, wondering if anyone saw you drive up. But it’s been
stressing me out big time, Kerrie. I can’t take it anymore.”

To his surprise, she said softly, “It’s been
fun. I can’t deny it. Neither can you. Sex is
always
better
when it’s forbidden, so don’t pretend you haven’t gotten off on
it.”

He paused, not because she was right, but
because she was so wrong. “I never liked that part of it, honey.
Not ever. It’s been killing me, frankly. So it has to end.”

She licked her lips, then said sadly, “I
thought you loved me. You
said
you loved me.”

“I said—” He grimaced. “I tried to make it
clear, Kerrie. That the feelings were there—
strong
feelings—but we couldn’t be sure until we spent some normal time
together. Dating. Hanging out with friends. Otherwise, it was just
sex. Great sex, yeah, but that’s not enough.”

Covering her face with her hands, she
murmured, “Just give me a second.”

“Yeah, of course.” His heart ached for her,
but he didn’t reach out. Didn’t comfort her. He was so close to the
finish line now. Why take the chance? What if she felt encouraged?
Then he’d just have to do this all over again next week. Hurt her
all over again.

Finally she looked at him, her eyes damp but
proud. “I’m not going to beg, Sean.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you. You deserve someone
better than me. Someone who appreciates all your great qualities.
It just can’t be me.”

He knew what he should say now. That she
needed a good therapist to help her get past her self-destructive
habits. She had stayed with Coz even though he treated her like
shit. She had stayed with Sean even after he made it clear in his
own bumbling way he didn’t share her feelings.

So say that,
he urged himself.
Be a
good friend. Tell her to get help.

But he couldn’t. So he settled for, “I don’t
have the right to give you advice. But I care about you. So I’m
asking you to talk to Rachel.
Listen
to Rachel. She’s a true
friend, right? She’ll steer you right.”

“I’ll call her first thing in the morning,”
she agreed. Then her eyes sparked hopefully. “Now we can do it? One
last time? After that I’ll never ask you for anything else.”

“Huh?”

She giggled and pulled off her top again.
“Don’t pretend you don’t want it, Sean. It’s been three weeks.
Unless you cheated on me and we both know you’d never do that.”
Before he could react, she made a playful show of removing her
panties from under her short skirt, then she climbed into his lap
and ground herself on him.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“I love you, Sean. But I’m willing to let you
go. Just give me this. I’m so horny, and I came all this way, and
you want it too. I
know
you do. And you promised.
Remember?”

He felt a wave of protective confusion. “Do
you see what you’re doing? I just
dumped
you. You should be
mad as hell—”

“Don’t tell me how to feel, Sean Decker. I
need
this. To remember you by.
Please?
I’ll leave as
soon as we’re done.” She leaned her head back and moaned happily.
“Oh, Sean, I need this so bad. One last time.”

“Kerrie . . .” He closed his eyes,
trying to ignore the husky sounds of an aroused female. Couldn’t he
give her this? Wouldn’t he be a bastard
not
to?

And he wanted a clean break, which she had
promised to give him if he did this one last thing for her. A burst
of excitement hardened him as he thought about what that meant.
Freedom. The end to this suffocating nightmare.

Erica’s writer friend.

Frantic, he thrust himself into her, stunned
by how hot and wet she was. She had begged for this, but he hadn’t
believed it was what she needed. Not when he had supposedly just
broken her heart. Now as she came, she shrieked his name, and he
swore under his breath with a blend of anger and release.

Because yeah, she apparently needed it bad.
And so did he.

She pulsed against him one last time, then
said in an awed whisper, “I thought she was exaggerating about you.
But wow, Decker, what a stud.”

He drew back, flustered. “Huh?”

She flashed a mischievous grin. “I was afraid
I came all this way for nothing. But you definitely came through.
Nice work, handsome. I promise I won’t tell my sister.”

Almost speechless, he managed to croak the
single word,
“Melody?”

“Nothing gets past you,” she said with a
laugh as she stood, stuffed her panties in her purse, then wriggled
into her top. “Should I show myself out?”

“What the hell?”

Her eyes—so eerily similar to her
twin’s—sparkled. “I’ve owed her this since she stole my fiancé. So
thanks. Plus, you gave me a good time so I’ll give you some free
advice. When you break up with my sister, do
not
tell her
she deserves someone better than you. Because let’s face it, you’re
a sex machine.”

“Goddammit,” he growled, standing and zipping
his jeans. “She’s your
sister
for fuck’s sake.”

“And she stole the man I loved. Now we’re
even.” She pursed her lips. “All kidding aside? If you want to dump
her, just do it. Endless explanations just make it worse. Tell her
you
used
to love her, but now you don’t. And tell her she’s
the most beautiful girl you ever met. And the best lay. After that,
she’s on her own.”

“Geezus, Melody.”

She arched a teasing eyebrow. “Tell me the
truth, Green Eyes. You’ve wondered about this, right? Identical
twins? Guys
always
fantasize about us. Now you know. Just
don’t tell Kerrie how hard you got for me.”

“You need to leave,” he said sternly.

“Should I give her a message? I could take
care of the breakup for you—”

“God
damn
it.”

“Okay, okay. Thanks for the fun. I’ll see
myself out.”

She left on her own, but he stood on the
porch to confirm she was really gone. If he had wanted to make
things a million times worse, he had just done it. Kerrie was
already sensitive about comparisons to her twin. This could really
put her over the edge.

“How is that
your
problem?” he asked
himself suddenly. “They were rivals before you even met them.
Kerrie stole Melody’s fiancé. Then Melody slept with him while he
was married to Kerrie. Now . . . fuck, now
everyone
has slept with
everyone.
Full circle,
right?”

It made a crazy sort of logic. This was about
the sisters at this point, not about Sean.

Maybe it always had been.

“And the breakup speech went pretty well, all
things considered,” he told himself as he watched the dust trail
behind the BMW.

All he had to do was repeat it word for word
when he visited Kerrie’s penthouse on Sunday. It would be bad, but
could it really be any worse than
this?

• • •

By Saturday afternoon, Tess had figured out a
basic approach to the article. Johnny and Erica would be the
centerpiece. Wide receiver Alexi Romanov and kicker Sean Decker
would be colorful anecdotes. And Noah Cunningham, the guy who had
ruined his reputation in college by accepting gifts from
advertisers, would be the cautionary tale.

That part still didn’t sit well with her, but
she could see why Patrick Murphy had included Cunningham in the
mix. It would give the article gravitas. Keep it from being a puff
piece, even though she would rather write fluff than re-trash some
poor guy’s reputation. But “Murf” was supposedly a mastermind, so
she told herself he had a good reason for including his tarnished
player on the list.

“Maybe Cunningham has a new contract coming
up, and bad publicity really
is
better than no publicity,”
she told herself philosophically. Which meant Murf was using her.
But since she was using him too, she couldn’t really object. Wasn’t
she sitting here in the sunny alcove of his posh penthouse
overlooking downtown Portland and drinking root beer from his
Sub-Zero fridge?

Sweet.

As she organized her notes, she took a
lingering look at the stick-figure sketch of herself and Sean
Decker. Had she really stared up into his gorgeous eyes that way?
She still wasn’t sure he had known how hot he had gotten her, even
at the time. And now? Even
she
barely remembered it beyond
the warm vibes that had seemed so innocent right until they morphed
into near-orgasm.

Thank God for accurate notes.

To augment her memory, she had found some
clips from the latest Super Bowl game so she could watch the kicker
in action. Now she studied them with interest. The guy was
consistently low-profile. No fanfare, just a workmanlike approach
to his job. Calm, despite the chaos swirling around him. How odd
that she had responded to him the way she did. Maybe it was the
combined effect of
two
NFL studs. Like a one-two punch
except a little lower and a lot more fun.

When a knock sounded at the door, she jumped,
then laughed sheepishly. She had ordered room service so many times
in the last three days, they were probably bringing her bonus
meals.

Hopefully with dessert.

After a glance in the entryway mirror to make
sure her ponytail was straight and her UH shorts and tee weren’t
too rumpled, she peeked through the peephole and inhaled
sharply.

The kicker?

Should she pretend she wasn’t there? Run and
change into something sexier? Something dowdier? Call security?

Or you could find out what he wants,
she scolded herself. So she paused for a steadying breath, then
opened the door and gave him a cheerful smile. “Hey, Sean. Are you
here to see Patrick Murphy? He lent me this place for the week but
he’s not here himself. Supposedly he’s in Dallas. Not that I even
know him because we haven’t actually met—” She broke off, aghast
that she was babbling again.

What
was
it about this guy that made
her so nervous? Usually between her regular self and the Colbee
version, she could handle anything. Or at least, anything but a
charismatic surfer-type in khakis and a faded T-shirt.

His eyes twinkled. “Hey, Tess. Sorry I didn’t
call first. I just took a chance you were here.”

“Well,” she said breathlessly, “I am.”

“Yeah, that’s cool.” He took a quick glance
at her outfit, then asked, “Do you have a minute?”

“Me?”

He stepped closer. “I figure I owe you an
apology. For last night.”

“Oh, Lord, not at all. I mean, why? Nothing
happened.”

“We both know it did.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have run off like that,” he
explained smoothly. “After Erica planned a nice dinner, and you
came all that way to interview me for your article.”