Girls' Night Out (Bad Boys) (7 page)

“I feel good,” he lied. The flaring pain in his shoulder ratcheted up in intensity because of not icing it as he knew he should have after the game.

During high school he’d made the football team after a ten-minute tryout. A natural, his speed and agility perfect for a hybrid tight end position, his coach had said. Weighing in at two hundred forty-nine pounds and standing six foot six, he was a rarity. Then, and apparently now considering what his agent said. For every door God closed, he cracked open a window where light entered if not streamed. For Brett it had been in his being able to run like a mad dog, turn and catch a football, never breaking stride. His coach and the other high school coaches in the area, even the college recruiters, said he was exceptional in how he functioned for his size.

Unfortunately, his college test scores were on the opposite end of the spectrum, right in the area of dismal. But it didn’t seem to matter to the schools who courted him with promises of cars, apartments, and parties. He had the choice to accept a full ride scholarship to several universities or go directly into playing in a minor league. He picked pro ball in Canada and no classes. No more grades and worrying about the fact that he just didn’t understand why the words on the page didn’t match the words in his head.

Some sort of dysgraphia, and had he been given something as simple as a laptop, his educational life would have been made far easier than trying to copy nonsense from a whiteboard in class.

“Shall I bring you anything special?” he asked, knowing his mother enjoyed when he brought baked goods.

“How was your evening?” she asked, suddenly distracted.

“I stayed in and rested for my big day today,” he said, lying again. Crud, he closed his eyes, hating the feel of this conversation. Then, from some unknown place, the words jumped out of his mouth, “I met a girl yesterday.”

“Brett, how nice. Are you bringing her with you?”

His heart raced in his chest. “No. Not like that. I mean, we talked.”

“It only takes a bleep to open the door,” she said. His mother had always told him, the moment she’d met his father she’d known he was her soul mate. Well, hell, he knew one thing for sure: Corinth McLemore was
not
his soul mate. More like a burr he couldn’t untangle from his thoughts.

“You haven’t brought a girl around since—”

“Mom, it was a brief conversation. Nothing more. I don’t know why I even mentioned it,” he interjected.

She sighed. “You’re thinking about her. Aren’t you?”

We are so not from the same world.
That wildcat’s voice and fiery, honest eyes had him stumbling when Corinth had blurted out the sentiment that had made him reel. Then, and more so now, as though the direction of his life was no direction at all. Hollow and meaningless, a piercing reminder he wanted to avoid but ran headlong into in again and again as the words came tumbling from Corinth’s moist pink lips. He’d lobbed the comment back into her court with a jackass remark about having a life and it was the pain in her beautiful blue eyes he’d fleetingly witnessed that had him by the balls. She was at UCLA. A huge ass school. One he’d never been to, and what were the chances he’d ever find her? He recalled her ID. It had said she was in the marketing department. The whole idea of looking for a beautiful, mouthy needle in a university haystack was insane. But he’d done shades crazier. He made a mental note to look up UCLA’s marketing department and ask around on the team. There was bound be another player who would know someone with a contact there.

He repeated his question. “Would you like something? A treat, maybe?”

“Brett, just yourself. I miss you. It’s been three weeks.”

“Couldn’t be avoided. Had to get ready for this game. Worth it, considering we lead the division and might actually make it to the Super Bowl.”

“I figured you’d be focused on training. We’re so excited and keeping a running tally of your stats. A couple more games and you’re there.”

“Keep your fingers crossed.” He kept everything crossed…fingers, toes, legs, arms. A Super Bowl would mean a large bonus. And a win would domino into a much larger contract for the next year. Heck, for the life of his career. At twenty-six, if he nursed his shoulder, he’d be lucky to get at least six or seven more years. He needed more and had relented, advising his manger to get on the ball finding endorsements.

While other players bought vacation condos and all sorts of toys with the sky’s the limit mentality, Brett had other concerns. The cost of around-the-clock care for his mom meant he needed to secure not only his future but hers, considering she didn’t have anything beyond what little the government provided. No retirement, and she’d already gone through the small inheritance from his grandparents. His mother was cared for by registered nurses in an upscale apartment setting within a modern medical facility. But it cost. Nearly a quarter of his annual salary, but he refused to move his mother to something less costly. He’d seen those places when his grandmother had to go into hospice. The smell and the feel of loneliness and grief was overwhelming. He adamantly refused to do that to his mother when his accountant made the suggestion last month.

“I don’t want to tie up your time. I suspect you have some training scheduled for the morning.”

He scratched his hand down the stubble on his cheek. “Yeah. I do need to get going.”

“I love you, Brett,” his mom said, her voice wavering. “I’m so proud of you.”

His chest constricted. “I’m proud of you, mom. See you soon.”

He hung up and fell back on the bed while his shoulder throbbed unmercifully. Seriously, he needed to get his game on and stop futzing around. What had Raquel, his physical therapist, said a million times? Ice, ice, ice and more ice. So simple, and yet he’d be damned, but he fought her advice this last go round. He needed his therapy routine with bands and light weights, or any routine really. Earlier in the month, he’d taken two weeks off for physical rehab while feigning a family emergency with the team. At first, it had felt like he was wasting his time, but shit, he’d witnessed the results in two weeks and no one suspected he’d sustained a shoulder injury. As far as the team and his agent were concerned, he was an offensive machine.

Now, back in Dallas without a physical therapist riding him and the holiday interruption, he’d messed up royally by going out and not taking care of himself. He’d been down this road before where he’d gone to therapy, gotten fixed up, and then put aside what he knew he needed to do to heal and rest, and get ready for the next game. Not this time. Brett sat back up and reeled upright. Naked, he collected his clothing, and stormed into the bathroom.
No more screwing around
.

Okay, no more messing up after tonight and Mike’s bash. Fuck, how many times had he said that in the last few years?

~~~

The dance club was as out of control as any he’d been to where Mike and his group of NFL friends gathered. Working his way to the front of the line, Brett stopped and signed a couple of autographs. Apparently, the word had gotten out that the Devils were partying hard and a line of people stretched down the block, waiting to get inside Firefly. And then he saw her.

Brett blinked, unable to believe it was really Corinth McLemore standing in front of him, wearing a dress that hugged her in all the right places. She must have a serious attachment to sexy stilts, he thought, and this time her high heels too easily wrested a groan from him. And a clench of his jaw.

His focus zeroed in on her. A target in his scope and his body tightened as he watched her animated gestures before allowing his gaze to trace a line down her curves. Dressed in a miniature length dress, the sight of her legs kicked him in the gut. He excused himself from the fan beside him and walked toward her. His body hummed in electric expectancy. He didn’t know why she had this effect on him. He’d known plenty of beautiful women and Corinth wasn’t the type of woman he sought on a weekend. Those brief hookups involved getting naked, fucking, coming, and then goodbye. He most definitely wanted the part about sex…it was the one-night stand aspect deemed a no-go this time. He knew without a doubt, a girl like Corinth McLemore wasn’t part of that scene.

Ever since seeing her in the airport—it wasn’t
seeing
…more like connecting to a defibrillator—he couldn’t shake her from his thoughts. His brief conversation with this woman shouldn’t have had any effect, but it did. One he couldn’t seem to erase or forget. It had been the moment she’d become unsure of herself, soft as a rose petal, and he’d almost bolted out of necessity. Run as far and as hard as he could away from his instinct to reach out to her. But his mind had returned again and again to the way she bit her lip, the scorching heat in her eyes, and the feel of her body close to his. He wanted more—of her.

Both now and then, Corinth’s skin glowed in a way that had him wanting to take a taste. Slide his mouth along her neck, sucking, licking, and biting a path to her mouth. The spiking notes of her voice punctuated his next breath. “Good evening, Ms. McLemore.”

She turned toward him, surprise and something else mingled in her expression. Her eyes lowered for a beat as though assessing him. He wore a custom-made suit. Probably too
player-like
for her. Shit, it was for him but this club had a dress code. No way in hell was he going to wear a spare jacket—impossible to find one that would fit his build anyway.

“Wow, please tell me you’re not into stalking.” She laughed and sound caressed his senses.

“In your case, it might be warranted.” He enjoyed seeing the widening of her eyes. He held out his hand, unsure if she’d take it after his rapid disappearance in the airport.

She laid her palm flush with his. “You look…well.”

He wanted to return the compliment and keep her talking…call for a driver and whisk her away. “Are you coming or going?”

Her head bobbed upward. “Coming. I mean, we just arrived. And you?”

“Just arrived as well.”

“Good luck getting in. The Devils have this place booked and only the crème of the crème are allowed inside tonight.” She smiled up at him and the enticing effect had him canting closer.

He couldn’t resist asking, “Did you and your friends want to go to a dance club?”

“Do you know of any?” She leaned in and whispered, “A good one. This is a girls’ night out sort of thing. Bridesmaid shower on the spur of the moment. Normally, I have every detail covered, but this time I was scrambling to plan something memorable.”

Out on the sidewalk, all it took was talking with her and his pulse surged, rejuvenating him with a jolt of excitement jetting through body. It was beyond torturous to keep from taking hold of her. She smelled amazing, and he kept reminding himself not to stare a hole in her. He trained his gaze on her face and the air disappeared from his lungs. She floored him, and he didn’t know if it was her lovely individual parts or the gorgeous package.

“Aren’t you Brett Gold? Yeah, you are!” A young woman from Corinth’s group came up to them. Corinth’s eyes locked onto his as the woman gushed. “The Devils are headed to the Super Bowl. You’ve gotta be excited.”

“Pleasure,” he said, shrugging. “We still have to get through the playoffs.”

“So you’re not from Hollywood?” Cory asked. “And here I thought I’d finally met an actor.”

“No, I was there visiting,” he responded, holding her gaze and weighing if he should mention being there for physical therapy.

“I guess I’d better do introductions,” she said, “before I’m called on the carpet for being uncivilized yet one more time.

“You do have a tendency to let the moment get the better of you,” he teased, and was promptly reward by a cloud of color rushing across her cheeks, and then she bit her lip.

“I think you’ve fallen for more
moments
than me, buster.”

“Don’t think so.” All he could imagine was taking possession her smart mouth, tracing the edge of her lip with his finger, opening her mouth, and thrusting his tongue inside. Christ, his cock stiffened and he lost his train of thought.

“Well, are we going to have the pleasure of an introduction?” Two women came up to Corinth.

She smiled over to them and nodded. “Mr. Gold, may I introduce the bride-to-be, Gillian Sinclair…”

He reached out his hand and shook. Then there was a line of woman and he shook hands, many more times than he’d imagined possible. Corinth wasn’t here with a couple of women. She had an entourage, not surprising with her larger-than-life personality. He’d been introduced to more than twenty women. Everyone called her Cory from what he could tell. And
Cory
was a young woman who’d never go for down and dirty flings, not with aunts, cousins, sisters-in-law, and friends surrounding her like a fairy princess. He even heard that her mother was back at the hotel, along with a
Miss Louisa,
and both would be disappointed to have missed out on this introduction.

“I can get you and your family inside. If you want?” he said, trying not to sound pretentious. Then he considered this gift from the gods. “But you’d owe me.”

“Owe you? I don’t like the sound of that,” she retorted, but not before he caught her staring at his mouth.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, amused.

“That you’re still full of yourself.” She twirled a strand of her caramel hair around her finger. “So, it’s true you play for the Devils?”

“Does it matter? Would you rather me pretend to be an actor?” he asked, prickling her just because he liked to see her blush.

Her blue eyes snapped to his and she curled one side of her incredible mouth into a playful smile. “Not to me. I’m not into football. Just, it’s strange. We spoke in the airport and…I don’t know. Don’t most football players work it into their conversation?”

Her unabashed attitude struck him as refreshing. She didn’t try to impress him. If anything, she sought to level the playing field by kicking him in the shin. He glanced down at her mouth and she either unconsciously—or very consciously—sucked in her bottom lip. Slow and sexy and his cock hardened. “Like what? Hello, I play ball. Should I have given you my stats and potential to be traded?”