Risky Game (13 page)

“If y’all will excuse me,” Shannon said. “I’ve got some studying to do.”

Brody was relieved, standing to make his exit, too. He needed to apologize to her for the remark earlier and clarify the sleeping arrangements for the night. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was to hear about Robbie—Rob’s—perfect wedding and his perfect life. Shannon’s hand on his arm stopped him, though.

“No, Brody. You stay and catch up with your family and friends.”

He wanted to shout,
The hell with my family and friends
, but her eyes told him she needed some space and once again his guilty conscience niggled.

“Sure,” he said, sliding back into his chair reluctantly. “I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. Take your time. I’ve got lots of reading to do.”

As brush-offs go, Shannon’s couldn’t have been clearer if she’d kicked him in the nuts.

She slipped away amid a chorus of “see you in the morning,” and Brody was left to face down Bridgett’s scowl.

“You sure fumbled that pass, little brother.”

Brody flipped her off as Robbie-now-known-as-Rob laughed. “You’d better hope she doesn’t have any sharp vegetables in her suitcase,” his friend joked.

“Funny,” Brody said. He turned to Faith to initiate the one conversation that would send his sister to speeding to her own room. “So, how are the wedding plans coming?”

Sure enough, Bridgett was on her feet in ten seconds flat. “I’m out. I think grandpa Gus wanted to play gin tonight.”

Fortunately, he was saved by the arrival of Rob’s father. “Brody, I need your advice on my fantasy football roster. Step up the bar and help an old man out.”

Brody managed to escape his father’s cronies an hour later. The main inn building had twenty guestrooms and as he wandered the long upstairs hall to the room he was sharing with Shannon, he hoped she’d already gone to sleep. His body rebelled at the thought of bunking down on the hard floor, but sharing a bed with her would be even more punishing. If he had to endure any pillow talk, the night would progress to torturous.

Too bad he hadn’t packed his body armor because the scene greeting him inside the bedroom was more intimate than he imagined. This wasn’t the first time Brody had walked into a hotel room where a woman waited for him. But on those occasions, his guest would be wearing nothing but a G-string and stilettos. Tonight, the sight of Shannon innocently seated on the bed, wearing purple flannel pajamas, her face scrubbed clean, and her hair twisted up on her head with—he did a double take—a number two pencil stuck in the knot aroused him more than any other hotel tryst. Instead of mood lighting and silk sheets, a laptop rested on her crossed legs and she’d spread out papers containing her data around her on the comforter.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

Closing the door behind him, Brody leaned a shoulder against the mantel as the fire crackled inside the grate. He swirled his Scotch—now diluted with melted ice—in the glass in his hand. “You weren’t fibbing about having to work. I thought you were just saying that to escape.”

She piled her papers into a neat stack before slipping them into her book bag. “Sorry to abandon you down there, but the weekends are when I get most of my schoolwork done. I need to get ahead if we’re going to be spending all day tomorrow at the wedding.”

“Still think my family’s
delightful
?”

“I think you could have left the remark about the vegetables in the locker room where it belonged.”

He pushed away from the fireplace, charging toward the bed. “Ah, come on, you know that didn’t come out the way I meant it. Besides, it would have sounded innocent if they weren’t all thinking you’re some kind of bimbo.”

She chuckled softly. “Actually, that’s a first for me, so I was kind of enjoying it.”

Brody stared down at her as she closed her laptop and placed it on the trunk that doubled as an end table. Maybe he’d mistaken the desire in her eyes earlier because she was cool and composed now, reclining against the pillows as if sharing a room with him wouldn’t affect her at all. She’d arranged a row of throw pillows along the length of the bed, forming a bulkhead of sorts to separate the two halves.

Sighing heavily, Brody flopped down on the mattress, crossing his wingtips at the ankles, the Scotch sloshing in the glass as he rested it on his stomach. “Glad we can provide you with some cheap thrills. But my family should at least take you seriously, even if they can’t do the same for me.”

Shannon gazed at him speculatively. “Your family adores you, Brody.”

“Sure they do. They treat me like the overindulged puppy that never grew into his feet.”

She laughed merrily, the sound stirring something inside him. He looked over at her long feet, her slender toes painted a sexy bright red. Stifling a groan, he forced his eyes up to study the crown molding.

“I’m serious. I just spent the last hour with my father, my uncles, and their friends, and all they ever want to talk to me about is football, my stats, or their fantasy teams. Almost as if I’m not capable of conversing in any other subject.”

“Doesn’t that kind of come with the territory?”

“Even you do it. You did it the other day when you were explaining your research to me.”

He saw from the corner of his eye that she had the grace to cringe before she rolled on her side to face him, tucking her hands beneath her cheek. “I did. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made assumptions. But don’t you like being a professional football player, Brody? You’re one of the best in the game.”

“Not one of the best. I am the best.” He took a swallow of the Scotch, its bitterness burning his throat, before turning his head on the pillow to glare at her. “I’m the best tight end in the league. And I don’t like being a football player.
I love it
. I love being on the field, outmaneuvering the defense and making the catches no one else can.”

A slow smile spread over her face as she took the glass from his hand. “But?”

And there was the million-dollar question. Brody had been struggling with the “but” issue for months now. The problem was, he couldn’t articulate why he was so unhappy. “I just wonder if it’s enough, you know. I know it sounds selfish to you. I get paid millions to play a game. Little boys—and big boys, too—dream about having that opportunity all their lives.” Sighing, he shook his head, unable to come up with anything else.

He reached for the glass back, but Shannon got up, walked to the bathroom, and poured the contents into the sink. When she came back to the bedroom, she stopped at the minibar and pulled out an apple she’d cut up and a small tub of peanut butter. She crawled on the bed, sitting Indian style as she placed the tub of peanut butter on one of the barrier pillows.

“Did you always want to be a jock?” she asked as she handed him the bag of apple pieces.

Brody sat up against the headboard. “Didn’t every boy?”

“No, some want to be firemen or astronauts or forest rangers.” She took an apple from the bag and dipped in the peanut butter.

He scoffed. “First, they want to be pro ballplayers. All those other occupations are second choice.”

“So you’re one of the lucky ones who got their first choice,” she said matter-of-factly, making his life sound so simple.

Her tongue darted out to lick a piece of peanut butter off her lip and Brody’s cock jumped. In his current circumstances, he didn’t consider himself lucky at all. He was sharing a bed with a woman he shouldn’t find sexy, but he did, with nothing but a retaining wall of throw pillows separating their two bodies.

“I told you it didn’t make sense.” He crunched on his own apple in aggravation.

“Actually, it makes perfect sense. You’re trying to figure out who Brody Janik is without football. You don’t want to be defined by the game you play. I get it.”

A bit of apple got lodged in his throat at her words and he coughed. “Yeah, something like that,” he said when he finally found his voice.

“Nothing is going to happen to your career, Brody. You’re controlling your blood sugar and you’ll get your contract extension. You have years to worry about who Brody is post-football.” She spoke the words with such conviction, he almost believed her.

“Finish your snack so your sugar stays stable,” she said as she got up to brush her teeth.

“I’ll take the floor. You sleep in the bed.”

She poked her head out of the bathroom. “I’m pretty sure we can share the bed comfortably.” She gestured to her great wall of pillows.

“I haven’t slept in bed with a female since I was five and Tricia and I shared a hotel trundle.”

This was greeted with an arched eyebrow.

“When I’m in bed with a woman, Shannon, there’s generally not a lot of sleeping going on.” It was mean of him to tease her, but her pink cheeks told him she wasn’t as immune to him as she appeared.

He patted one of the pillows. “I guess these will do. Unless you’re one of those people who thrashes around in the bed. You aren’t, are you, Shannon?”

He’d taken his teasing a bit too far, though. Now, he couldn’t stop imagining her naked, thrashing beneath him while he made her scream. He pulled one of the pillows over his lap.

Marching over to the bed, she pulled the pencil from her hair and crawled under the comforter with her back to him. “Just to be safe, I won’t sleep under the sheet. Good night, Brody.”

She lay perfectly still beside him and it was all he could do not to cover her with his own body. He knew she was susceptible to his touch and arousing her wouldn’t be difficult. But the issue of trust still lingered in the room like an uninvited guest. So Brody shoved the last apple slice into his mouth and headed to the bathroom for another cold shower.

“I’ve been thinking about
your plan to catch the snitch,” Julianne said as she put the finishing touches on Shay’s makeup.

The two women were in the corner of the large suite Tricia and her bridesmaids were using to get ready for the wedding. Shay looked around to see if any of the others had heard Julianne, but the rest of the women were busy getting themselves dressed.

“Actually, I’ve given up on that plan,” Shay lied. “It wasn’t very well thought-out. It’s probably best to leave it to the professionals.” The last thing she needed was to have too many other people involved.

“Look up,” Julianne demanded. “What were you two doing all night? You’ve got bags under your eyes. Never mind.” Julianne misinterpreted the blush spreading over Shay’s cheeks. “I know exactly what you two were doing all night,” she said with a conspiratorial smile.

Once again, Brody’s friend was way off base—except the part about not getting any sleep. If anyone was a thrasher in bed, it was Brody. Shay had spent the night wide awake, huddled at the edge of the mattress while Brody tossed and turned. He finally settled down just before dawn, but only after he’d snaked a long arm over the pillows and around her waist. The intimacy of his warm hand on her belly should have startled her, but it had the opposite effect, lulling her into a deep sleep. She woke up several hours later with Brody’s fingers wrapped around her breast. Shay quickly shoved his hand away and he rolled over with a groan, apparently still asleep.

Escaping to the bathroom, she showered and dressed. Brody was still comatose when she left their room in search of coffee. When she returned an hour later, he was gone, along with his morning snack and his tuxedo.

“This place is very romantic,” Julianne was saying as she brushed some powder on Shay’s face. “But Brody will have to bring you down to North Carolina to the Tide Me Over Inn. A friend of mine owns it and it’s fabulous, too. The beds are also quite cozy, I can assure you.”

Shay just nodded, a twinge of regret tightening her stomach. Her plan to exonerate herself hadn’t worked and Brody still didn’t trust her. The only bed she’d ever be sharing with him would be the one upstairs, separated by a line of pillows.

“And I think it’s very sweet of you to want to catch the snitch. Whoever it is shouldn’t be selling out members of the team or their families. Trust me, I can relate to the media—even social media—being relentless about invading our privacy. Sadly, it comes with the territory of being involved with a celebrity jock. And with Brody being who he is, things escalate. Still, that blogger has no right to say the things she said about you just because you’re dating Brody.”

If Julianne knew the truth, she’d hate her. Shay could just have easily been the snitch selling information about Will and his family. Her quest to find whoever was doing it wasn’t sweet, it was based on self-preservation. Once again, she felt like an imposter and she slumped in the chair.

“Oh, honey, don’t worry.” Julianne once again misinterpreted her reaction. “We’ll catch whoever it is, you’ll see.”

“Who are we trying to catch?” Bridgett asked.

Shay nearly jumped out of the chair.

“Shay! I’m not done.” Julianne put her fingers beneath Shay’s chin and turned her face. “We’re trying to catch whoever is leaking information about Blaze players to that blogger who writes
The
Girlfriends’ Guide to the NFL
. Shay had a great plan, but it didn’t work.”

Panic gripped Shay. She was pretty sure Brody would be furious if his sister found out about the sex toy catalog. Bridgett was also far too intuitive, already suspecting something was amiss with Shay and Brody’s relationship.

“Julianne, I can finish my makeup myself. I think Tricia is getting ready to put on her gown.”

Julianne had been very overprotective about the wedding gown she’d designed for Brody’s sister and Shay counted on her possessiveness as a diversion.

“Here, let me help you, Tricia,” Julianne called as she handed Shay the makeup brush before speeding across the room.

Bridgett gave Shay a wry smile. “That was a beautifully executed play. You and my brother are perfect for one another.”

Unsure how to respond, Shay proceeded to pack Julianne’s makeup case.

“Most of the women who get involved with Brody enjoy the media attention. But not you. Why?”

Shay shrugged. “I’m not most women.”

Bridgett eyed her with a measuring gaze. “No, you’re not. Which makes me think you might be hiding something. Are you? Are you hiding something that could hurt Brody?”

She was hiding something, but not from Brody. Wouldn’t Bridgett be surprised if she knew her little brother was hiding something as well? Of course, her role here was to protect Brody, so it was better to have his sister cross-examining Shay’s life and not looking into his.

“No,” she answered, knowing the lawyer wouldn’t be satisfied. But if her answer kept Bridgett’s attention focused on Shay, then she’d done her job.

Fortunately, the activity in the room reached a fevered pitch and there was no time to finish their conversation before the wedding party was hustled out of the suite for pictures. Julianne trailed behind them like a mother hen who’d just had one of her chicks snatched by a fox, while Shay stayed behind to catch her breath. Unsure of what she was supposed to do next, she killed time by straightening up the mess the women left behind when a familiar tingling at the base of her neck alerted her. She looked up to find Brody leaning against the doorjamb, looking like he was headed for Hollywood in his custom tuxedo.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“I wasn’t sure where I should be, so I thought I’d just help out.”

“Do you ever relax?”

It was hard to relax as his simmering gaze raked over her from head to toe. “The wedding is going to start soon. We should head down to the pavilion.” She looked for her clutch purse among the mess Julianne had left.

The ceremony was being held on the inn’s grounds, under a massive wooden pavilion with the Green Mountains in the background, the fall foliage at its peak.

“They’re still taking family pictures. My mom wanted you to join us.”

A fresh round of panic gripped Shay. “I-I’m not doing that, Brody.”

Brody held his hands up as he strolled toward her. “Whoa. I told her no way. But I wouldn’t mind having one of you. You look amazing,” he said reverently.

The dress Julianne picked out for her was a vibrant teal jersey knit that wrapped around her body like a second skin. Sophie had paired it with a clunky necklace of fall earth tones and Emma had insisted she wear strappy copper heels. The look was casual enough for the rustic wedding, but chic enough to hold her own with Brody dressed in a tuxedo.

He was standing inches from her again, the heat from his body evident through the thin material of her dress, the smell of his cologne taunting her senses.

“You’re a good sport, Shannon Everett. I’m sorry I forced you into this, but, truthfully, I’m not sorry you’re here with me. I like being with you.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning his mouth toward hers. “Even if you put a bunch of silly pillows between us.”

“Brody, please . . .”

He was going to kiss her and that would destroy the tenuous truce they’d established. Still, she was powerless to stop him.

“Please what, Shannon? Please no? Or please yes?”

The only thing she could get through her throat was a sigh.

“That’s what I thought,” he said before his fingers cupped the back of her neck, drawing her lips in to meet his.

Brody’s kiss stole her breath and all of her rational thought. Even worse, it stole her inhibitions. Without thinking, she urged her body closer, dragging her fingers through his hair. Her nipples ached as they rubbed against his tuxedo jacket, her body becoming flushed with need. He slid his tongue along hers and she felt like she might fall. Fortunately, his hand was roving over her backside, supporting her. She couldn’t prevent the keening moan of need coming from deep down her throat.

He broke the kiss with a harsh breath. “You should have said please no, Shannon, because once I start, I can’t seem to stop kissing you.”

His kiss was more savage this time as he hungrily explored her mouth while his long fingers easily found their way into the front of her dress and caressed her breast, his thumb kneading the nipple. Shay’s breathing was fractured now, her body trembling with a need for release.

“Brody! Get your hands of her,” Julianne cried. “You’re eating off her makeup!”

Julianne smacked him on the shoulder and Brody reluctantly released her, his blue eyes looking so despondent, Shay’s stomach nearly dropped to her knees. He shook his head briefly and licked his lips.

“I mean it. I’m sorry about all of this,” he whispered before stepping away.

“Oh, you crushed your boutonniere,” Julianne moaned as she repinned the flower to his lapel. “Now go. The groomsmen are gathering at the pavilion. You’re gonna be late.”

Brody paused in the doorway as if he wanted to say more, and Shay sucked in a breath as a fresh wave of need washed over her.

“Shoo!” Julianne admonished him with a wave of her hand. “I’ll make sure she gets where she’s supposed to be.”

Then he was gone, his athletic tread echoing down the long hardwood staircase.

“Oh, honey,” Julianne said, dragging Shay’s thoughts from the man who’d just kissed her senseless back to the present. “Whatever you do, don’t give that man your heart before you know he’s capable of giving you his.”

Tears stung the back of her eyes, but Shay refused to let them fall. She nodded in agreement with Julianne because no words could pass through the lump in her throat.

 • • • 

The wedding seemed to
take an eternity. As Brody stood with the other groomsmen, he tried his best to avoid Shannon’s stare, but it was no use. The longing he saw within her eyes ate at him. Especially since he felt the same urgent sense of want within his own body. There was no way they could share a bed tonight without something happening. Not after the kiss they’d shared earlier.

He watched as his sister Tricia kissed her groom with both passion and the promise of a lifetime of love. The guests cheered and Brody felt lightheaded. He tried to remember when the last time he’d eaten was, but he knew the issue wasn’t his blood sugar; the problem stemmed from another part of his body entirely.

As the ceremony ended and the guests wandered to the cocktail hour, Brody contemplated his dilemma. He was pretty sure Shannon wasn’t the snitch, but she still held a pretty powerful secret over him. The contract she’d signed gave him leverage over her, but could he trust that was even enough?

It all boiled down to that one word:
trust
.

Glancing around the room, he watched as Rob kissed his fiancée, blissfully unconcerned whether or not Faith would sell his secrets to the media. Tricia stared all moony-eyed at Garrett, her trust in her new husband practically radiating from her pores. His gaze finally landed on Will and Julianne Connelly. Their relationship had begun on a basis of lies and mistrust, yet here they stood today, rock solid, their hands intertwined as they swayed to the pianist’s music. If those two could make it work with all the hurdles they’d had to jump over, surely he and Shannon could enjoy one night of sex without his entire world crumbling around him.

Weaving his way through the crowd of guests, he found Shannon laughing over something with grandpa Gus. Just hearing the sound made his body harden. He wanted to make her laugh. Hell, he wanted to make her scream.

Her eyes were a little skittish when they met his. Brody wanted to reach for one of her hands, but she was white-knuckling a champagne glass in one and a small purse in the other. Instead, he slid his palm down her back to reassure her. She trembled slightly at his touch and his hand slid to cup her ass. The wild-eyed look she flung at him made his body even harder.

“Gramps, can I borrow Shannon for a sec?”

Grandpa Gus gave Brody a knowing smile. “She’s all yours, sonny.” He headed off toward the bar area.

Shannon spun on her heel, brushing his hand away. “Brody, you have to stop this,” she hissed. “I can’t take all the touching. Please—no!”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as Brody backed her into the now familiar butler’s pantry.

Depositing her glass on the counter, she held a hand up to push him away. “I’m serious, Brody. I—”

“I trust you.” He practically shouted, thankful that the noise from the party behind them drowned him out.

Confusion swept over her face. “What?”

“I said I trust you.” He took it as a good sign that the hand she’d held up to stop him now lay over his heart.

Her eyelids fluttered shut and she took a deep breath.

“I trust you not to sell me out, Shannon,” he said, not liking the desperation that was creeping into his voice. But frankly, he thought she’d be a little more excited.

“Are you just saying that because you want to sleep with me, Brody?” A tear leaked from beneath her closed lid.

Brody gently wiped it away. “Technically, Shannon, we’ve already slept together. I just want to eliminate the chastity belt of pillows tonight.”

Her whiskey eyes were damp as she finally looked at him. “Why?”

His gut clenched. “What do you mean why?”

“Why do you suddenly trust me?” she insisted. “And why do you want to sleep with
me
?”

That damn insecurity was really starting to annoy Brody. If he ever got hold of her sister, he’d strangle her. He traced his fingers along the side of her breast, wrapped so neatly in the pretty dress. Shannon shivered beneath his touch.

“I’ve told you before, Shannon. You’re a conundrum. And I like conundrums.”