Fourth and Goal (7 page)

"Do you want my honest opinion?"

"Was I that bad?” He looked up. His earlier enthusiasm sucked right out of him. “I need to know. No one except Ty knows me like you do. Ty's too narcissistic to be of much help."

"What do you think?"

"I'd rather hear what you think. I'm too close to it to be objective. Don't pull any punches; give it to me straight."

Rachel sighed and took a sip as she contemplated the best way to let him down. “I think you're trying too hard to protect your knee. You know, too worried about getting hit again. I don't think it's conscious, but your routes aren't crisp and tight. They're round. You're not hitting your spot and making your cut. You're not focusing on the ball, not catching it with your hands. You're trying to trap it with your body. You need to relax. Flow with it. Not be so tense and tight.” She paused for a breath. “Derek, you know this stuff."

"So do you. Your dad taught good basics. He's one of the best coaches around. This whole thing sucks.” The reverence in his tone sickened her. She'd never noticed what an excellent actor he was—just like his mother.

"You're the one catching the ball, and right now you're not doing a great job of that."

"I got nailed on that last touchdown play, but I held on."

"
That
play reminded me of the old you."

He absorbed her critique for a moment. “I'm struggling with getting it back."

"You know what it takes. Drills. Practice. Mental strengthening."

"It's the mental part that's not working for me. You used to help me. Why don't you do that now?"

She hesitated, warring with her conscience and her sense of family loyalty. He'd given her an in, a way to get close, to earn his trust.

Those eyes, as welcoming as a box of expensive chocolates, held her and wouldn't let go. So much for kicking out the tomcat. Next thing she knew, he'd be curled up in her bed and she'd be purring for all she was worth.

"Dare, I don't need your charity.”
Or your physical proximity
. Plus her brothers would commit a capital offense if they hooked up again. They didn't forgive, and they didn't forget when it came to their baby sister's broken heart—or their father's destruction. Visiting the state pen on holidays wasn't her idea of a good time.

"It's hardly charity. I need you, Rae. I know you can help me.” He paused and stared at the corner where his dog had made himself at home on a braided rug. “I see Simon didn't take long to move in."

"He stole the key and helped himself. Take him home with you tonight. I can't afford any more missing objects.” Simon thumped his tail at the two of them but didn't move. From his perch on the couch, Charlie hissed at the lower life-form. Simon cowered and whined.

"He means well. Besides, your cat is the true villain. He's the neighborhood bully.” He continued to watch her with those hot eyes that didn't miss a thing, almost like he wanted to take her home tonight instead of the dog. She stood up straighter and kept her mask in place.

"He thinks he's Fido Hood, stealing from the poor and giving back to nature in the form of burying all my prized possessions."

Derek threw back his head and laughed, a warm, inviting sound that almost melted her resolve. “I've missed you."

She pursed her lips and kept her mouth shut. She didn't need him missing her any more than she needed to miss him.

"Rae, I really need your help. At least through the season—then we can revisit it."

"I don't know.”
Oh saints in heaven protect me
. She prayed for the willpower. She doubted he'd be the one to say no. Not if the way he was looking at her right now was any indication.

"We both have our ambitions. A relationship is messy and gets in the way of what we want. It won't happen. Trust me.” He studied her earnestly.

It wasn't him who was the problem.

"Let's see if you make the team; then we'll talk.” Her stomach twisted into a hangman's noose. Not trusting her knees, she slid onto the barstool at the small eating area in the kitchen. Derek sat next to her.

"You don't think I'll make it, do you?"

"I don't know.” His face fell, and she cursed her honesty.

He refilled his glass, then hers. His fingers brushed hers as he handed it to her. She looked away. Inside she trembled. She wished he'd leave. She wished he'd stay. She pushed that thought as far to the back of her mind as she could. Picturing Derek taking off his shirt and coming to her as she lay in bed looking up at him in nervous expectation was a vision she needed to banish from her mind forever. Unfortunately it kept sneaking in through little cracks in her armor. Cracks that were getting big enough to ride a horse through.

"If I do, I'm gonna need your support, your eye, your no-nonsense way of telling me like it is. Please, Rae, it's important.” Derek searched her face. His dark gaze went deep, reading her perfectly, and pushed past her defenses into secret, private places. Feeling as if he'd stripped her naked emotionally, she broke eye contact.

"We'll see,” Rachel hedged.

"I know you'll do it.” His broad grin lit up his entire face. She'd have promised him anything at that moment just to see him smile like that again. Dangerous thought and well past time to end this conversation and save a shred of her sanity.

"Derek, I'm really tired, and I'm sure you are too. We both have a lot to think about. It's best we call it a night. Thanks for the wine.” She rose to her feet and walked to the door. For a moment he remained seated; then, with a resigned sigh, he unwrapped his long legs from the barstool and hesitated at the open door. He whistled to his dog. Simon leaped to his feet and ran to Derek's side.

"Good night, Rae.” His gaze robbed her lungs of oxygen while heat pooled south of her belly button. She feigned interest in a picture hanging on the wall, avoiding his hypnotic gaze.

"You're worried.” He touched her cheek with the pad of his thumb, just a brief touch, but the aftershocks reverberated throughout her body. “You don't need to be. I don't want a relationship. I don't have the time or energy for one. I just want a friendship. We were always better friends than lovers."

She should have felt reassured, but she just felt empty and alone. “Good night, Dare.” She opened the door. Derek walked out with one final glance back at her, Simon on his heels. “You made a great catch tonight."

"Thanks. Keep those feet where they belong, and don't hurt yourself."

"Brat.” Her heart followed him out the door, but she yanked it back, shut the door, and locked it. Locks might physically keep the man out, but she'd need strength to lock him out emotionally. Closing her eyes, she envisioned her father and the bottles surrounding his chair.

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Rachel jammed her finger against the doorbell and held it there. Even then it took several minutes before a disheveled Cass yanked open the door.

"Cass, you've got to help me.” She snapped her fingers in front of her friend's face in an attempt to force her to focus.

Cass held her hand to her mouth and yawned.

"I need a makeover."

"Wonderful. I need another three hours of sleep.” Cass tried to push the door shut on her.

Not to be deterred, Rachel pushed her shoulder against the door. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Cass gazed longingly over her shoulder in the direction of her bedroom. She rubbed her bleary eyes. Without another word, she stumbled to the living room and slumped on a couch. Rachel shut the door and followed.

"I was asleep."

"It's almost noon."

"That's too fucking early.” Cass scowled at the sun shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Tyler's waterfront condo. “Of all days for it to decide not to rain in Seattle. I've got a mother of a hangover.” She squinted into the sun, then smiled. “Oh yeah, I remember last night now. Me. Tyler. Empty football stadium and bottle of good whiskey. That man can—"

"Cass.” Rachel held up a hand, not interested in traversing that sex-laden path. She'd be too jealous. “I brought you something."

Cass perked up. She could be bought. Easily. “I hope it's diamonds or white gold. I'm partial to white gold."

"Actually it's mocha.” Rachel held the large cup of java out to her friend.

Cass latched on to it and sucked it down. “As good as an orgasm. Well, almost. Tyler is a naughty, naughty boy with a deviant streak."

"I so do not want to hear this.” Rachel plopped onto the overstuffed, beige leather chair. Her own sex-starved brain flashed to a high-def image of a shirtless Derek, his sweat-dampened body glistening in the afternoon sun.

"Let me paint a picture for you."

"I'd rather be left in suspense.” Rachel groaned.

"Not a freaking chance in Hades. You wake me up, you pay. Last night and into the early hours, I roughed the passer and was penalized, and can that man penalize! The Ty-man ran several touchdown plays of his own. I'll never look at the three-hundred level of Jacks Stadium in the same way."

"You did it in the stadium?"

"In several different positions."

"I've heard enough.” Rachel held her hands over her ears.

"You ever imagined doing it in a stadium?"

"No, I haven't. I barely imagine it on a bed."

"Honey, you need to expand your horizons."

"Let's expand one thing at a time."

"We could start with your ancient views on sex. Sex doesn't need to be forever. It needs to be right now, hot, sweaty, nasty, and daring. Live in the moment. If it's good enough, the guys keep coming back for more. End of story. Love is a myth. Screwing is the reality."

"Put a hold on reality for now. Let's start with my clothes. Remember? Makeover."

"Oh yeah, you want a makeover. What are we making over exactly?"

"My image. I need to expound on the power suit."

Cass narrowed her eyes and studied her. Rachel looked out the window, suddenly enthralled by the view.

"What does a power suit have to do with your image?"

"When I dress in power suits, it's like I crawl into this other woman's skin. I have more confidence, more nerve. I treat Derek more professionally, keep him at arm's length. I know it's a stretch, but it's all I've got. Plus I want to be seen as professional. I need to be taken seriously if I'm going to get another job in a man's world."

"The man's world stuff I understand. The keeping Derek at arm's length part is fucked."

"Not for me. Besides, this is a career choice more than anything. Every interview I've gone on in the past couple of months has been lukewarm. I think this could be the key."

Cass sighed. “So much work to do, so little time. Stand up. Over there.” Cass pointed to the middle of the room. Rachel stood and walked to a spot in front of the windows. Cass looked her up and down, circling her and tapping a finger on her chin.

"If I do this, you have to trust me completely. Do what I say, dress the part even in the privacy of your own home."

"I'm not dressing up in my home."

"Yes, you are. It needs to become a part of you, as comfortable as jeans and a T-shirt. Pretend the part and eventually you won't be pretending anymore. You never know when fate will come knocking on your door. Or a hot man with a hard-on."

That high-def image snuck into Rachel's mind again, and she squirmed. Keeping Derek at arm's length involved more than power suits and makeovers, but it'd be a start.

"It's all part of my therapy when I'm doing hair. My clients eat it up,” Cass said.

"I can't wear power suits in the barn."

"You can wear a nice pair of breeches and a polo shirt. We'll work it. We're not talking always wearing power suits. We're going for casual business wear.” Cass held Rachel's hair back from her face.

"Okay.” She chewed on her lower lip.

"Your raw material is incredible. You've got those exotic green eyes with insanely long lashes going on. Your lips are just the kind men dream of having around their cocks."

Rachel choked while her unruly imagination swerved off the road and indulged in a little fantasy of her kneeling before a naked Derek, her hands on his cock. She lowered her mouth to the tip, paused, and glanced up to see the lust burning in his dark eyes. She licked the tip, his groan rewarding her efforts.

"Rachel!"

Rachel jumped with a guilty start and cringed at Cass's knowing smile.

Cass shook her head. “Your hair is beautiful, fantasy material. Your breasts are the perfect size for most men. Tyler likes them bigger, but we're not after Tyler here."

"I'm not after a man. Just the opposite."

"You've got the best set of legs—long, shapely, great thighs."

"Cass, I said professional businesswoman, not professional hooker."

"One and the same, honey—prostitute your mind, your body, your wares, whatever they may be. Guys think with their cocks first. When you're a woman in a man's world, you can't fight like a man. Let them hire you initially for your sex appeal, after which you wow them with your football knowledge and instincts."

"I'm not sure I came to the right place."

"Oh, you did. You did. Trust me. This is my area.” Cass smiled her most predatory smile. “I'll make over your appearance and your uptight attitude toward sex. With your body fitted into business suits and hair pulled back in a bun, you'll be gorgeous, an untouchable, pure woman. Nothing will drive men wilder. You'll have ten job offers in no time."

"Yeah, but what kind of job offers?"

"Trust me."

"Coach, you wanted to see me?” Derek hesitated in the doorway. His eyes swept the coach's office. Besides HughJack, the offensive coordinator and wide receiver coach sat around a small conference table. Their grim expressions didn't bode well. Derek met each man's gaze with false confidence, determined not to show the slightest weakness. They didn't look ready to congratulate him on a great catch or welcome him to the team.

"Thanks for joining us.” HughJack leafed through some paperwork in front of him.

Derek cleared his throat but couldn't dislodge that lump of fear, and he'd be damned if he'd let them hear his voice crack.