Fourth and Goal (38 page)

He entered her body as if in slow motion. The rawness of his emotions thickened his responses, slowed time, and made him savor every second, drawing out the act until it formed an eternity of memories. She clung to him as if he was her lifeline, even though he was certain she was his.

He made love to her like he'd never made love before. Slow, tender, and deep, feelings exposed, no longer buried beneath protective layers. She held his face in her hands and gazed into his eyes, past all his carefully erected barricades. His resistance to her particular brand of sexual magic shattered at her feet. An easy desire swept over him like a warm wind on the Palouse hills and banished the numbness of grief.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel. No thinking. No analyzing. No pretending. Just feeling. Her softness hugged his hardness and surrounded him, sheathing him, giving him a place to call home. He slid out of her and back in, grasping for the tender thread between them, unwilling to shatter it by hurrying the process. In. Out. Easy. Gentle. Achingly tender.

His heart filled with compassion while his cock filled her physically. His measured thrusts, so agonizing and heartfelt, affected his body as much as wild, out-of-control passion. Rachel shifted underneath him and maximized his ability to go deeper. Her mouth sought his. Her lips nibbled on his lower lip. Her tongue stole into his mouth and mated with his tongue, as slow and easy as she mated with his body.

The passion, the need built inside him. Not the frenzy of fevered lust or the raging of hungry desire, but a craving for something undefined, something almost within his grasp, something so much more important than winning Super Bowls or making money.

He thrust deep with an unexpected fierceness. She was his. No one else's. She needed to know that. He needed to sear it on her body, write it across her emotions. His mouth sealed the deal with a deep, aching kiss at the same time her body took him to heaven. Better than anything they'd ever had. With one final thrust, he emptied his essence into her and joined her body and soul. Derek clung to her and cried out her name.

He held her afterward in a possessive embrace. A sense of peace enveloped him. His bones melted into the mattress. They lay together, just
being
for a long time until Rachel broke the silence. “Congratulations. You're going to the Super Bowl."

His brain took a moment to slog through the events of the past twenty-four hours. “Yeah. Thanks. It seems surreal right now. I'm sure it'll sink in later this week."

"I have news too."

He stiffened. “Really?” A sense of foreboding filled him.

"I've been offered a job as an executive assistant to Miami's head coach. It's not a scouting job, but it's a foot in the door."

"Well, congratulations to you too.” He forced false cheer into his voice. “When do you leave?”
Miami
? She was leaving Seattle for Miami. It might as well have been the moon.

"I start the first of March.” She ran her fingers over his abs.

"Wow. That's soon.” He bit back the words on the tip of his tongue, words that would beg her to stay here with him.

"Yeah, it is.” She didn't sound any more excited than he felt. Even though Ryan's death put a damper on things, he sensed it was more than that.

"Rae?” He stroked her hair back from her beautiful face.

"Yes?"

He hesitated and blundered on. “Are you sure leaving Seattle is the right choice for you?"

"No, I'm not sure about anything anymore."

"Neither am I, baby, neither am I.” Nothing made sense in his life but the sweet, giving woman lying next to him.

She snuggled her soft, naked body against his bare chest. It felt so right, so perfect. He wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of his life, just like this. He didn't care if they had to live through a few years of being separated. Rachel wasn't his mother. She'd be faithful to him.

The realization slammed the air from his lungs faster than a shot to the groin.

He always had loved Rachel. Always would.

And he knew what he was going to do about it, long-distance relationship be damned.

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The next couple of days passed in a whirlwind. Rachel attended Ryan's memorial service with Derek. The cousins sang one of Ryan's favorite songs, not leaving a dry eye in the packed house, including hers and theirs.

Derek and his teammates flew out the next day for the week of practice and festivities leading up to the game. The farm seemed deserted without him. Then Cass showed up on her doorstep.

"I'm hopping a plane tomorrow for San Diego.” Cass swiped Charlie from his perch on a barstool and sat at the counter in Rachel's kitchen. Her blonde hair boasted streaks of blue and gold. Charlie stood near her feet and glared a deadly cat glare. His tail twitched indignantly, and Rachel suspected revenge scenarios ran through his mind. He'd never been fond of Cass.

"You are? But you're not a cheerleader anymore.” Ironically the team had dismissed Cass when an old picture surfaced of her with Tyler, making it obvious they'd been an item. Yet at the time, they'd been broken up for a month.

"I know. Ty invited me to the pregame festivities."

"Ty? What about your boyfriend?"

"He left town with a masseuse."

Boy, was Rachel ever in the dark. She'd been so busy wallowing in her own self-pity she hadn't spent much time with Cass.

"I was so through with him anyway when he suggested a threesome with another woman. Now another man—maybe.” Cass, typical flake, didn't seem the least bit affected by the loss of a man she'd professed to love a few months ago.

Rachel kept her opinions to herself.
Cass and Tyler. Together again
. Two flakes who deserved each other, though lately she wondered if Cass deserved Tyler.

"Hey, are you expecting a delivery?” Cass looked out the window from her vantage point at the kitchen counter.

"Delivery?"

"There's a florist's van outside."

"Tyler probably tracked you down.” Rachel opened the door for the delivery man and gasped.

"What is it?” Cass came up behind her. She stared in amazement. “Holy shit."

"They have to be for you.” Rachel shook her head. The Jacks’ flashy quarterback never did anything halfway.

Four delivery men marched into the house with dozens of red roses in blue and gold vases. They placed them on her kitchen counter. As they filed out, the last man handed her a white envelope with her name—not Cass's—on it.

Holding her breath, Rachel pulled out a card with a Lumberjacks logo on the front. She opened it and recognized Derek's illegible scrawl.

Rae, I can't play in the Big Game without you. I miss you. Derek

Simple and to the point. So typical Derek.

She pulled out several airline tickets, room reservations, and tickets for fifty-yard-line seats—one for each member of her immediate family, even her father.

"That man loves you, especially if he's willing to tolerate your asshole brothers.” Cass grinned as she sniffed the roses.

Rachel laughed. “I can't believe this."

"Honey, the roses are red. Not white. Not yellow. Not pink.
Red
. You know what that means."

"I doubt it means the same to Derek. Roses don't come in blue and gold.” Heck, he probably wanted to reinstitute their good-luck, pregame sex ritual.

Charlie slinked across the floor and distracted her. He climbed into a large planter and proceeded to dig in the soft dirt. Satisfied, he sauntered toward them, leaving a trail of fresh dirt in his wake. What was that cat up to now?

"I can't believe you're leaving Seattle.” Cass pouted and reapplied her lipstick.

"I'm pursuing my dreams."

"Pursue them here."

Charlie took his cue and rubbed around Cass's legs. He possessed inbred cat radar and gravitated to the one person in the room who hated cats. Cass glared down at him. Charlie stretched upward, placed his paws on her white designer jeans, and left two tracks of mud down her legs.

"You damn little bastard!” Cass shook him off her leg, but not before he had the last word. “Ouch! Shit! He dug his claws into me."

Rachel shrugged and suppressed a smile. “Don't mess with him. He always wins in the end."

"He's a feline terrorist. Look at the dog cowering in the corner."

"He always cowers when Charlie's on the prowl."

Cass huffed. “Whatever.” She cast one more murderous glare at Charlie, who ignored her as he cleaned his paws. “Ty says you're a lifesaver. You have him so organized he has free time for us."

"I love doing their scheduling. I'm good at it.” Rachel swelled with pride.

"But you're still leaving?” Cass scrubbed her jeans with a wet paper towel.

"It's what I've always wanted to do."

Cass's gaze flicked over her face. “You could do it here. In time, you'd find an opening with a college or even the Jacks."

"I have to go. I'm committed. If I stay, it'll only trap Derek into something he doesn't want. I would never do that to him. He'd hate me."

Cass looked pointedly at the roses and back to Rachel. “Something
he
doesn't want?"

"Give it up, Cass."

"So you're going through with this?"

Rachel nodded her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. Charlie climbed into her lap. Purrs rumbled in his chest. She stroked his soft fur.

Cass's skeptical expression said it all. “I need to go. I have tons of packing to do. I'll see you there."

Rachel nodded.

Cass shot one last zinger at her as she disappeared out the door. “Just remember, what about Rachel? What do you want?"

What
did
she want? Weren't the toughest decisions always the right ones?

She thought about her future. Really thought about it. Ever since Ryan's death, she'd spent a lot of time examining her life, her priorities, her needs and wants.

She mourned for Ryan and for the loss of her relationship with Derek.

She hadn't seen much of Derek except for the funeral. Organizing players’ calendars kept her busy night and day as everyone clambered for a piece of the Conference champions. How did he feel? What was the real message behind all these red roses? Did she dare hope?

She stood on the edge of a cliff, water rushing through the canyon below. She could jump and pray she could swim to safety. Or she could back away and take the safe route. Her heart knew the answer, even as her head argued against it.

What advice would her mother have given?

She almost smiled as the answer came to her.
Jump in with both feet, don't look back, and hold on with all you've got.

Sneaking past the Secret Service to see the president would have been easier. Getting near Derek prior to the game was nearly impossible.

Rachel and her family stayed at the same hotel as the team. She shared a double-queen room with Cass. Her family's rooms were one floor down, along with Derek's and Tyler's families.

Throughout the next few days, she had fleeting glimpses of him. Once he caught her eye, waved, and winked as a crowd of reporters and team officials swept him into the hotel elevator. She attended the Super Bowl festivities with her family and Cass, who wasn't having any luck getting near Tyler either.

Derek called her late every night, talking slow and quiet so he didn't wake Tyler. His sexy voice was tinged with weariness. She begged him to get lots of sleep. He promised he would. He wanted to win the Lombardi trophy for Ryan. The whole team did.

If she'd been confused before, being here in the midst of all the hype and chaos didn't clarify her future. In fact, it clouded it.

As if it wasn't confusing enough, she ran into Derek's agent in the lobby that morning. He wanted to talk about a possible affiliation with his agency.

She loved juggling the guys’ schedules, the challenge of satisfying everyone involved, especially when it came to the kids. Nothing beat seeing the smiles on terminally ill kids’ faces when a player surprised them in their hospital room. Could she make a career out of being a
handler
? At least for the immediate future? She'd been approached by more players this week and put them on hold.

She had a lot of thinking to do.

Derek flopped on the bed in the hotel room. “Shit, I'm wiped. I had no idea the league would own us all week long.” Wearing nothing but sweats, he threw his hand over his head and squinted at the overhead light, nursing a brain burner of a headache.

"I'm fucking loving it.” Tyler stretched on the opposite bed and grinned. His eyes sparkled with excitement. He flipped through the channels, looking for clips from the day's events.

"I'm sure you are.” The limelight energized Tyler, while it wore Derek down.

"Hey, what time is it?” Tyler sat up and swung his feet to the floor in one swift, fluid motion.

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because I'm sneaking downstairs to meet Cass."

"Whatever happened to the boyfriend?"

"I'm the boyfriend. So cover for me; I need to ease a little tension."

"This isn't high school. If you sneak out, you're on your own. HughJack will have your head.” Derek could use a little tension relief himself.

"He won't know, just snore loud enough for both of us. She's sharing a room with Rae."

"So now you're into exhibitionism?"

"Nope, I'm sending Rachel down here.” Tyler winked at him.

"Then what are you waiting for? Get your ass out of here.” Derek lobbed a pillow at Tyler's head, and it came zipping back at him. He ducked.

A couple of minutes later a knock sounded at the door. He yanked it open and pulled Rachel inside. Plastering her against the door, he kissed her with every bit of passion and feeling he possessed.

"Wow. Have you missed me?” Rachel drew back, hands on Derek's broad shoulders, and took a moment to admire his naked body, a hobby she'd never get tired of.

"You have no idea. It's been one weird-assed week.” He nibbled on her earlobe. “Damn, I need to lose myself inside you."