Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (39 page)

Then he had received her confounding text
message:
Can you come an hour earlier? For non-football
business?

So here he was, pulling up to her house,
trying to imagine what the hell. Not football but also not
personal? That didn’t even make sense. But he had been so hot to
see her under any circumstances, he had texted back without
thinking:
Six sharp
.
See you then.

It was already one minute after six, but
still he sat at the curb, trying to imagine what was on her mind.
Something about their relationship, which made him uneasy, since he
had hoped they’d have that talk
after
the verdict from
Murf.

Because it was possible Murf would recommend
another agent. Then Wyatt could take Darcie to bed without fear of
complications. And she wanted that too, didn’t she? Even when he
had tried to resist her—to re-channel their wild chemistry into
something with a future—she had begged him for it with every look,
every movement, every touch, even knowing they would crash and burn
again. But somehow, it was still worth it to her.

And Wyatt knew why. The raw sexuality, the
unpredictability, and most of all, the wave after wave of
excitement were like a drug—heady and addictive. That alone had
been enough to make him step back, wary of losing control. But not
Darcie. Because Darcie Kildare was fearless. And she was making him
fearless too, mostly because he was so hot for those amazing
breasts, the huge green eyes, the teasing smile and the brilliant
wisecracks that goaded him into losing his cool every single
time.

But even Darcie must know that if Murf said
“yes,” they had a huge decision to make. So maybe this
“non-football business” was a signal she had already made it. Had
decided she couldn’t sleep with a client. If so, he would respect
that.

Even if he chewed off his own
knuckle
to keep his lust under control.

Another minute passed, and he noted she
hadn’t come out onto the porch. Was she dreading this? Or maybe
giving herself a final lecture about the perils of getting
romantically involved with a client?

You’ll know by what she’s wearing,
he
told himself, and the realization made him chuckle. If it was the
dress from the fundraiser, they were going to bed. Maybe even
before
they went to dinner. The Alexi Romanov suit, while
sexy as hell, would lend credence to the business-meeting idea. The
see-through top? He was pretty sure
that
was asking too much
but he could dream, couldn’t he?

Or she could dress like a Bourne,
he
reminded himself, chuckling again that she had so quickly
identified cargo shorts and polos as the uniform for most of their
family gatherings. It was what she had worn for their first
football lesson, so it didn’t necessarily mean “no sex,” but if she
dressed like that, or even in her chili dog clothes, he’d have to
proceed with caution.

Meanwhile he had stalled long enough,
especially given his reputation for punctuality, so he eased out of
the Jag, straightened, and looked hopefully at her front door. If
she had been worried about how
he
would dress, she’d feel
better now, wouldn’t she? Not like an aggressive date but not
exactly “just friends” either. Khakis and a dark blue dress
shirt—sleeves rolled up, no coat, no tie.

Ready for anything.

Your turn, beautiful.

She must have sensed his challenge because
the front door opened slowly, almost cautiously.

Then she stepped onto the porch and he knew
he had his answer. Because there was no mistaking the message in
her short, pleated black skirt, filmy white blouse, and the shoes
from the fundraiser that made her legs look longer than humanly
possible.

And all he could think was—
porn
costume
.

Why else was she wearing her hair up? She
never
did that. And that shy smile? She might as well be
nibbling a fingernail in pretend confusion over what was going to
happen next.

For a moment his throat was too dry to
speak, his body too stunned to move. But those legs were too long
to resist, and so with a burst of lusty zeal he sprinted up the
steps and grabbed her into his arms.

Chapter Eleven

“Wyatt!”

Shocked by his frenzied attack, Darcie tried
to struggle free but couldn’t help laughing as he dragged her into
the house, which she knew probably sent mixed signals. Then he
stunned her with a power kiss while his hand crept under her skirt
and inside her panties, as though it were the most natural move in
the world.

Gasping his name as his finger penetrated
deep inside her, she demanded, “What are you
doing?”

He grinned down at her. “You always know
what to wear.”

“This? Oh . . .” She gave a
soft moan as he probed her, but still she protested. “Didn’t you
read my text? This is business.”

“’You’re too wet for business, baby. Where’d
you get these porn clothes?”

“Wyatt . . .” She waited
until he had kissed her again, mostly because she had no choice.
Then he pushed her blouse up, unhooked her bra and moved his hungry
mouth to her nipple, giving her a chance to ask between groans of
pleasure, “How are these porn clothes? I wore this to court all the
time.”

“In front of a
judge?”
he demanded.
“Geezus, Darcie.” As he spoke, he unzipped his pants and freed his
rock-hard erection, then hoisted her up as though ready for the
main event, somehow managing to put on a condom in the process.

Then he grinned—more like a pirate than a
surgeon—before easing himself into her, thrusting rhythmically, his
breathing ragged as he held her off the ground. Frantic, she
wrapped her legs around him and tangled her fingers in his hair,
dragging his mouth down for another kiss.

Literally purring from the perfect stroking,
the perfect angle, her clitoris sent out greedy signals that
spasmed deep inside her, egging Wyatt on while making Darcie shriek
with pleasure. She came before he did but only by a few seconds,
then he was driving hard, cursing through his excitement, his mouth
devouring her neck.

She could tell from his slowing movements,
his shallow breathing, he never wanted it to end. Then he moved
over to the table with himself still inside her and set her bottom
down, then pulled her against his chest and told her reverently, “I
didn’t see this coming.”

“Me either.”

He chuckled. “You masterminded the whole
thing, and I mean that as a compliment.”

She giggled in frustration. “I masterminded
a non-football business meeting. But I’m not complaining, because
yowza.”

He grinned down at her. “Tell me the truth.
You didn’t wear this outfit to court, did you?”

“All the time. With different shoes, maybe.
Flat ones . . .”

“Yeah, that might be the problem,” he
murmured.

She smiled ruefully, trying to see it from
his point of view. Standing at street level, looking up at her on
the porch? She might have miscalculated her casual-business message
after all.

“What’s with the blue folders?” he asked,
his dark gaze wary as he noticed the documents on the table. When
she rolled her eyes, he chuckled. “Seriously? It really
is
business?”

“Until you ruined it with your power sex. So
give me a couple of minutes to clean up, then we can go to
dinner.”

“What’s it about?”

“Some other time. You ruined the mood.” She
kissed him amorously. “The one time
I’m
willing to resist,
you just have to have it. Nice play call, QB.”

He exhaled slowly, then told her, “We can
still talk business. I’ll pick up food. You change into something
less porno, and we’ll meet back here in half an hour. Are burgers
okay?”

“It can wait for another time.”

“Maybe not,” he reminded her gently. “In a
few hours, Murf will call with the verdict. You obviously wanted to
have this talk before then. So we’ll get it done. No problem.”

His words made sense, didn’t they? She had
worked hard on the new contract, knowing it was now or never. Of
course, that was before he was willing to jump back into a romantic
relationship so easily.

But only because you entrapped him with
porn,
she reminded herself, amused but also aware that nothing
had really changed.

Wrapping her arms around his neck as he
started to uncouple, she observed solemnly, “You didn’t pull
out.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t resist.”

She stared into his eyes and knew if he
didn’t leave right away, they’d end up in bed, further confusing
things. So she said lightly, “Burgers sound great. I’ll find
something frumpy to wear, I promise.”

“Don’t try
too
hard,” he quipped.
Then he gave her an admiring smile and headed out the door.

She wanted to crawl into bed for a few
minutes and savor the unexpected fun, but she needed to wise up, so
she sat at the table and opened one of the blue folders
instead.

Contract for Surrogacy
.

She had salvaged as much of his original
draft as possible, lining out and adding where needed before making
two copies. One for each of them. It was a bold plan. Reckless,
even. And it had made a
lot
more sense when he seemed
unwilling to touch her beyond an occasional lustful kiss.

“Nothing has changed,” she assured herself
coolly. “You still need a framework for your relationship going
forward, especially if Wyatt signs with Murf. You can’t have wild
sex one minute, huge arguments the next, over and over again.
That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

It was supposed to be a serious meeting, so
she had placed a carafe of coffee on the table. Now she opened a
chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc—crisp and fruity—and placed two
graceful wineglasses next to the coffee mugs. Of course, Wyatt
might prefer beer. Maybe even something harder.

Or maybe you’re overthinking it
again,
she scolded herself. She had been so calm at six on the
dot. The perfect blend of confidence and optimism. But he had blown
all that away, and she needed to regain it quickly.

So she found dark gray yoga pants and a
light gray T-shirt with a pink Nike logo. No one could accuse
this
of being a porn outfit. Especially when she added a
sturdy jogging bra and pink socks.

And since putting her hair up hadn’t created
the desired mood, she freed it just as she heard the front door
open. A hot thrill jolted her, but she took a few deep breaths then
returned to the dining room.

Part of her hoped he’d power-kiss her into
submission again, but instead he was the old Wyatt, determined to
play by the rules.

Little did he know the rules were about to
change. She almost felt protective of him as he joined her at the
table, where he chose a seat in front of a blue folder but didn’t
open it. He could be such a boy scout sometimes. And since she
could still remember how shocked
she
had been when a
surrogacy contract was thrown in her face unexpectedly, she worried
that—for
this
guy—it would be ten times worse.

“The food will stay warm,” he said, his tone
respectful. “So let’s get down to business. Should I look in the
folder?”

“Not yet. Do you want some coffee? Or a
beer? I’m having wine.”

“I’m good for now.” His smile warmed.
“What’s up?”

“Well, first of all, this made a little more
sense two hours ago. So please try to put our—well, our porn
scene—aside for the moment. But not forever.”

“Done.”

“Okay, then . . .” She took a deep
breath. “I know you’ll have tons of questions, but if you could
just let me get through the basic presentation first, it’ll make a
lot more sense.”

“Why does this sound familiar?” he said, his
tone half-teasing, half-wary.

She reached over to cover his hand with her
own. “Brace yourself. Because I’ve decided I’ll have your baby
after all.”

• • •

Wyatt’s mind went blank. Then on pure
instinct he flipped open the folder, shocked again when he saw the
Contract for Surrogacy
sitting there.

Hadn’t she shredded it Friday afternoon?
Burned it to a crisp? Buried it in the backyard like any other
corpse?

Finally, he managed to croak out, “Huh?”

“I was shocked too. First when you sprung it
on me, and then again when I realized it wasn’t the worst idea in
the world. So bear with me, please? Once I explain—”

“Explain what?” he asked, trying not to
sound as frustrated as he felt. “We agreed you’d make the world’s
worst surrogate because you’re baby-crazy. And I’d make a terrible
single father. I know you feel bad about saying that, but it
doesn’t make you wrong.”

She eyed him patiently. “If you would just
hear me out. The whole point is, yes, we knew there were problems.
But you also said I could make changes to the contract, remember?
You even said I could completely re-write it, but you’ll see I kept
ninety percent of it while fixing those two little problems you
just mentioned.”

“
Little
problems?”

She sighed. “If you’re just going to keep
interrupting—”

“No,” he assured her quickly. “I’m just
surprised. Go ahead. As long as you realize—”

“I know, I know. You’re shocked. So was I.
But I got over it. And I’m hoping you will too.”

He knew he should ask her to stop. Tell her
he had been wrong to ever bring it up. That she was a saint—not to
mention a masochist—to try and salvage it somehow. If he had needed
further proof of how she felt about him, this was it. She would
literally do anything for him, and while he was crazy about her
too, he didn’t deserve this level of commitment. Didn’t even want
it.

But he couldn’t say any of that, so he just
said, “Go ahead.”