Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (25 page)

“No, just more of the same.”

Meaning Kerrie . . .

Meaning no divorce yet.

“Okay, I’ll text you when I land and we can
meet at the hotel again.”

“I’ll pick you up at the airport and take
you someplace more private. So no one crashes our party.”

She smiled, remembering how frustrated he
had been over the arrival of the McSpurlings. “Should I dress
up?”

“No way. This place is casual. Jeans or
shorts. Bra or no bra. Whatever’s comfortable.”

Darcie laughed at the “no bra” suggestion
but also found it instructive. Sean seemed like the sweet guy in
the group, but he definitely had his devilish side. Maybe
that
was the part Erica Spurling missed. If so, Darcie could
understand why.

“I’ll let you know when I land, Sean. Thanks
for calling.”

“We’ll have fun, I promise. So yeah, call as
soon as you’re here. And
don’t
call the other guys.”

Chapter Eight

Wyatt hadn’t planned on spending more than
one night at the ranch, but things kept coming up, beginning with a
request from Bea and the nieces to make him a home-cooked meal
since they were sure he only ate restaurant food. He went along
with it, which proved to be a good decision, since they made prime
rib and mashed potatoes, homemade rolls, and Wyatt’s favorite
vegetable: asparagus.

Over dinner, he and Gail talked about her
animal rescue project, and decided he’d pick her up after school on
Monday—in the Jag—and take her to work. He was already proud of the
great decisions she was making, but when he saw how she connected
with the abused pets—feeding motherless kittens with an eyedropper,
speaking in soft, reassuring tones to an abused dog that had been
riddled with buckshot—he realized her dreams of becoming a
veterinarian weren’t just talk.

He would have left on Tuesday morning if Joe
hadn’t asked him to attend his debut as starting pitcher for an
elite fourteen-to-sixteen baseball team. The kid had assured him he
could disguise himself in sunglasses, a cap, whatever. Because as
Joe said: I want you there as my Uncle Wyatt, not Wyatt Bourne the
Surgeon.

Who could say no to that? So he stuck
around, even though he dreaded giving his Aunt Jenny more time to
nag him into being a better Bourne. To his surprise, she left him
alone with Bea and Tony during the day, and with the dubious honor
of being harassed by the teenagers as soon as school let out.

Danny was obsessed with driving the Jag and
running passing routes with Wyatt. Gail just wanted to talk
animals. Joe had his hands full with the pitching gig. And Annie?
Her purpose in life seemed to be sharing her complaints about her
boyfriends and offering unsolicited advice to Wyatt about his love
life.

That advice consisted of two themes: Annie
didn’t approve of her uncle paying for dates for big events. And as
for “dumping” Darcie, which everyone assumed he had done? Annie
just wouldn’t let it go.

So take a lesson,
he advised himself
after dinner on Tuesday as he and Tony sat on the porch listening
to Annie pontificate.
No more fake dates. Not ever
again
.

Except that wasn’t fair to Darcie. For all
her faults, she had been an outstanding fake date. Forcing him to
give a better gift to Bea and Tony. Making him look good at every
turn. Convincing him to kiss her in the garden instead of out in
the open, knowing Annie and Gail would be watching. Chastising him
for paying more attention to his nephews than his nieces.

The clueless uncle
.

And best of all, telling that story that
made him sound as strong and protective as Matthew Bourne.

Plus, she was funny as hell. That was worth
something, wasn’t it?

I COACHED A LIVING GOD.

Effing hilarious.

He had to give her
that,
didn’t
he?

• • •

Going bra-less wasn’t an option, but Darcie
choose the next best thing and wore a gorgeous bit of underwired
black lace, mostly because it reminded her of the camisole Wyatt
loved so much.

Sure, Wyatt was history. But the fantasy
lingered on, courtesy of his steely eyes and erotic banter. Not to
mention the Jaguar. Darcie could barely go a single hour without
imagining herself straddling his hunky body in that sexy leather
seat.

So she wore the black bra for her non-date
with Sean and covered it with a loose-fitting Lancers jersey from a
stack of shirts in the PMA supply closet. Her date would be pleased
with the logo, never knowing about the bra, and meanwhile, it fit
with her plan for the flight from Dallas to Portland.

Watch the Super Bowl.

Finally
.

She had downloaded it to her laptop and
then, in tribute to the Surgeon, had affixed her headphones in
place, tuning out the rest of the plane. It was easy enough since
the seat next to hers was empty this time and the flight attendant
had his hands full with a group of grouse-y passengers.

Once they were under way, Darcie quickly
discovered what she had already suspected—this game was a nail
biter. Two great QBs squaring off, right down to the last seconds.
Johnny Spurling was everything the press predicted he’d be—a leader
as well as an innovator. Scrappy yet disciplined. The ultimate
gamer.

Bam Bannerman earned his reputation, too,
performing feats of athletic prowess that seemed impossible even
when Darcie rewound the video and studied them more closely.

And Sean Decker? He virtually won the game
for his team. What more could they ask?

Darcie’s pride soared, but still, as the
final moments unfolded, it was Wyatt who owned her heart. Such a
trouper despite the ankle injury he had managed to hide in the
first half, but which, by the second, was painfully obvious thanks
to his limp. Still, he willed his team toward victory, and to the
amazement of the crowd, the announcers, and Darcie, he almost had
his way with the Lancers, courtesy of his last pass of the
game.

But first he had to fight for the privilege
of making that throw, scrambling despite the pain, refusing to go
down. Then he launched the ball with all his precision and might.
It soared through the air, so perfect it defied the laws of
nature.

The game-winning pass, it seemed. But a
fourth Lancer—not a member of the Triple Threat, but clearly
playing in their image—dove between the ball and the Jets receiver.
It would have been bad enough if the Lancer broke up the play, but
this inspired cornerback actually snagged the ball, to the
jubilation of his team and the thunderous appreciation of the
crowd.

And Darcie felt jubilant as well. The
Lancers were her team. She was even wearing their jersey! What a
game, and to her shock, she wasn’t just able to follow it, she was
glued to the screen. She
loved
this sport. No wonder Murf
and Sean and Bam and Wyatt seemed so obsessed with it.

It was simply the best. And thanks to Murf,
Darcie could actually watch it for a living.

Still, in her heart, she wished Wyatt could
have won. Then as the plane made its descent, she kicked herself
for such unhelpful thoughts. Wyatt had rejected her, whereas the
Triple Threat—especially Sean—had welcomed her into their
lives.

It was time to make a fuss over Sean Decker.
And given his sexy green eyes and darling smile, she knew it would
be easy to do so.

• • •

He didn’t wait outside the airport but
rather intercepted her as she entered the baggage claim area.

“Man, you look cute,” he told her, pulling
her close and kissing her cheek. Then he commandeered her rolling
carry-on and laptop case, wrapped his free arm around her waist and
escorted her from the building. “I can’t believe you’re here.
Thanks again for coming.”

After bundling her into his white Mercedes
sedan, he headed north, entertaining her with stories from his
early days as a client of PMA. “Murf invented the Triple Threat,
you know,” he told her.

“What do you mean, invented? Just the label?
Or the entire concept?”

Sean seemed pleased by the question. “John
was already the best quarterback in the league and he had really
started clicking with Bannerman. Almost like they could read each
other’s minds. John kept telling Murf that if the Lancers could
just score a really top-tier receiver, there would be no stopping
them. But Murf had a better idea.”

“A kicker.”

Sean nodded. “Except I wasn’t a kicker in
those days. I was a backup quarterback. A decent one, but I had
pretty much reached my ceiling. I knew Murf felt bad about it. So
did I. So I told him I could kick too, and he went wild. Charmed my
current coach into giving me a tryout in private. And it went
great. And because our team already had a franchise kicker, Murf
convinced John that his current receivers were good enough. What he
needed was someone to seal the deal in close games.”

“I watched the Super Bowl on the plane.
That’s exactly what you did, Sean. It was so exciting.”

He flushed. “Thanks. I owe a lot to those
guys, obviously. Murf and John for sure. Even Bannerman, because
he’s the best.”

They had pulled into the lot of a
tucked-away ramshackle building aptly dubbed the Last Roadhouse.
Once again, Sean proved he was a better date than Wyatt Bourne,
opening her door and offering his hand without any snarky
prompting.

It was early, so she wasn’t surprised that
the place was half empty. Even so, Sean had apparently reserved his
favorite table—a vinyl semicircular booth in a dark corner. Darcie
sat on one side, and Sean slid around until his shoulder and thigh
were less than eighteen inches from hers.

Like a date,
she decided with a
frustrated smile. Apparently he was going to keep her guessing
indefinitely.

“I’ll have a Lager Storm,” he told the
waiter who appeared almost instantly. “Babe?”

She laughed at his continued use of the
endearment. “I’ll have white wine. Something fruity but dry,
thanks.”

“Any appetizers?” the server, a young
college-type male, asked.

“How about that seafood platter. And the
sliders. And onion rings. We’ll order food later.”

Amazed again at the way these football guys
could pack it away, Darcie gave Sean an encouraging sigh. “I take
it Kerrie hasn’t filed for divorce yet?”

“Crazy, right? I mean, not crazy-crazy, just
frustrating. She did hire a lawyer though, so that’s progress.”

“It’s
great,”
Darcie assured him,
relieved that it wasn’t all doom and gloom. “It should go pretty
quickly now since they don’t have children. Assuming the husband’s
reasonable.”

Sean help up his hand to stop her while the
waiter delivered the drinks. Then he murmured, “I’m supposed to
tell you something. Rachel’s orders, and Murf’s too. It’s ancient
history now. Completely irrelevant. And embarrassing, frankly. But
Rachel says you deserve all the facts if I’m going to lean on you
this way. And she’s right. So just don’t hold it against me,
okay?”

Darcie took a sip of her wine, stalling
while she tried to imagine what this could be. Sean had already
seemed mortified to be dating a married woman, much less sleeping
with one. Could it possibly get worse?

Finally she told him, “I have a pretty high
opinion of you, you know. There’s not much that could change
that.”

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “So we’re
guessing you don’t know that Kerrie’s last name is Cosner,
right?”

“No. Why?”

“Her husband is Coz Cosner.”

Darcie pursed her lips. “Why does that name
sound familiar?
Wait,
don’t tell me. I heard it
recently . . .” She rolled it over in her mind, then
smiled proudly. “He was your former coach, right? I remember
hearing his name during the Super Bowl broadcast. Oh,
wait . . .” She grimaced. “That’s bad, right?”

“It
was
bad. Now it’s irrelevant,
like I said.”

From the strain on his face she knew it was
anything but, so she gave his hand a pat. “You started seeing her
while he was still your coach? That must have been awkward. And it
explains why you want to keep things under the radar.”

“It’s the cardinal sin of football. But in
my defense, I didn’t set out to steal his wife. And just so you
know, the guy’s a total a-hole.” Sean’s eyes flashed true emerald.
“He tried to block me from coming to Portland. And the instant I
had a couple of bad games, he tried to bring in another kicker.
Man,” he added heatedly, “I hate that prick.”

Whoa . . .

Darcie patted his hand again, this time to
calm him down. “Thank goodness it’s ancient history, right?”

“Right.”

She studied him with concern. This
outburst—this abject hatred—was the most passion she had ever seen
from Sean. Surely she hadn’t seen anything like it when he talked
about Kerrie. Was it possible his hatred for his prick coach had
partially fueled his ardor for the prick’s wife?

Or more likely had inspired some sort of
rescue fantasy. Sean was born to play the role of knight in shining
armor, wasn’t he? And there was sexy, unhappy Kerrie, yearning to
be free.

So she gently reminded him, “You mentioned
to me at the beginning that her husband was mean to her. Or at
least neglectful.”

“Yeah, she deserves better, that’s for sure.
I can give her that.”

Darcie took another sip of her wine,
appreciating the break as the waiter delivered a metric ton of
food. She was grateful to Rachel for forcing Sean to tell her about
this, but still, she now knew she was out of her depth.

“I understand why you can’t talk to Johnny
or Bam about this. Or Rachel, since she’s Kerrie’s friend too. But
what about Erica?” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m here for
you, but you and she are so close. And she’s so supportive.”