Sensual Games (Novak Springs #3) (12 page)

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m letting you pick out my clothes. Don’t push it.”

Vitoria’s only reply was to drag her around the store and grab several more items. One of which was the gold lingerie Bebe suggested—along with some red, black, and purple to round out her selections. Shoes—two pairs—one a pair of strappy gold sandals with four inch heels, and a black velvet pair equally as high. She left the store with more outfits and accessories than she’d planned on getting. It’d been so much fun she couldn’t wait to talk Tori into shopping with her again. Now all she had to do was go back to the condo and pack it all up and get ready for her early flight.

Anticipation filled her as she thought about her plans for the following evening. Colt wouldn’t know what hit him. He better appreciate the effort too, because Emma planned on rocking his world. Hell, he better plan on getting little sleep—it had been way too long since they made love.

Colt pulled off his helmet and ran his hands through his sweat-soaked hair. The game had gone well. Not as well as he would have liked. They barely won, but it shouldn’t matter—a win was a win. One more playoff—then the biggest game of his life… It made him tremble deep inside with both excitement and fear. There had been a lot of mistakes, incomplete passes, fumbles, and a few damn near sacks on him.

What if he didn’t have what it took to make it through the stress of the next game?

He didn’t know if it was him or the team as a whole, but he was frazzled to the max. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for the pressure of being number one. He was ready to crack under the strain. So much was riding on the next game…

No, if he was being honest it had nothing to do with the game and everything to do with Emma. She hadn’t spoken to him since he admitted the truth. He was not dating Alison. Never had been and never would—he only had eyes for one woman. Emma held his heart, and nothing could or would change that fact.

“Hey, Colt, good game.”

Colt looked up at Paxton Kerry. Dark circles highlighted his eyes and his hair was a disheveled mess.

“Was it?”

“What?” Paxton looked up at him. He had no idea what Colt had said. His eyes looked glazed over and unfocused.

“The game?” Colt prompted.

“Oh yeah, close one.”

He walked past Colt, distracted. The locker room was a buzz of everyone getting ready to take a shower. Road games were hell. The room was unfamiliar and borrowed by every other away team in their conference. All Colt wanted to do was shower and head to his hotel. He’d hole up in his room for the night and then catch his flight in the morning. He couldn’t wait to get out of Green Bay and back home. The only thing that would cheer him up is if Emma decided to start talking to him again. He’d take anything—even some profanity on how much of a dick he’d been.

The silent treatment drove him nuts on a good day.

Colt sighed. It didn’t look like he was going to get what he wanted though. And apparently something was bugging Paxton, and it suddenly became his duty to babysit the benched quarterback.

“What’s going on Pax?”

Paxton sat on a nearby chair and slumped forward. “I may not be able to play again.”

His announcement fell over Colt in waves of disbelief. He’d thought the physical therapy had been going well. He’d assumed Paxton would be taking over again, if not this season, then definitely the beginning of the next one.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Paxton scrubbed his hands over his face. “No, not really. It might be me being all pessimistic. I always see the worst first and hope for the best.”

“Dirty four letter word,” Colt muttered.

“What?”

“Sorry, I don’t like hope. It sneaks up on you and hits you where it hurts the most when you lose it.”

Paxton shook his head. “I never looked at it like that, but I see what you mean.”

“Why don’t we go out and get some drinks,” Colt suggested. “Try not to think about whatever it is. No one said you can’t play yet, right?”

“No,” Paxton agreed. “In fact, Emma told me to quit stressing about it. Said as far as she can tell my progress is going as expected.”

Colt restrained the groan from coming out of him. It grated on him that she was apparently talking to everyone but him. “There you go. It’s Emma’s job to monitor your progress. If she says you’re doing well then you should believe her.”

Paxton scratched his head and appeared to consider Colt’s advice. “I get what you’re saying, but it’s harder to put it into practice. I’m worried. Football’s my life.”

Colt understood what he was saying. He was pretty much in the same boat. If he didn’t play ball, what would he do? Something he’d never fully considered until he watched the injury bench Paxton. It could happen to any one of them at any time. They’d no longer be able to play. Even if Paxton played again, the injury could resurface. He’d probably never be completely healed. Any game could be his last—he was potentially borrowing time.

“Well for tonight let’s play it by ear.”

“I can do that.” Paxton nodded. “Go take a shower—you reek.”

“Ha-ha.” Colt glared. “I think we found your next gig—comedy.”

Colt grabbed his shower stuff and left Paxton sitting in the chair. He washed up as fast as possible and got dressed. He’d drop off his stuff in his room and then they could go to the hotel bar. He’d see if Paxton wanted to do anything different.

“I’m ready to go if you are,” he said.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here,” Paxton agreed.

“I was thinking we could go to the hotel bar—easier that way. If we get too drunk, we can stumble upstairs to our rooms and pass out.”

Paxton grinned. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Did you have anything else in mind?”

“Nope.” Paxton shook his head.

They hailed a cab and climbed inside. They gave the driver the name of their hotel and headed back there.

“Have you been sleeping okay?” Colt asked.

“Yeah. Today’s the exception. Had a lot on my mind.”

“Anything besides your ability to play?”

Paxton stared straight ahead. His mouth formed a grim line. His eyes showed almost no emotion. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

That sounded ominous. What was bothering him? From his words, it wasn’t the game. Could it possibly be Alison? He wouldn’t put it past his best friend to drive Paxton to the brink of insanity. He knew her well—and like most woman she was more than capable of giving a man hell.

“Well, if you want to talk about it you know where to find me.”

Paxton laughed. “Yeah, most days, I guess I do.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s nothing. I promise. Well, not nothing…just not something you need to worry about.”

“No problem,” Colt said. If Paxton didn’t want to talk, Colt wasn’t going to push. He had his own problems after all. A spitfire named Emma Novak was on the top of that list. Maybe he’d force her to talk to him. The silence was slowly killing him.

“I’m going to run up to my room and drop off my duffel bag,” Colt said as the cab pulled in front of the hotel. “Want to meet me in the bar in thirty minutes?”

“Sure thing, see you in a bit.”

They got out of the cab and headed inside. They both headed to the elevator and hit the Up button. When the doors pinged open they entered it, and each hit the button for their floor. Paxton was on the third floor and Colt on the fifth. Usually, the team was all on the same floor, but they had a scheduling mishap, and they were all over the place. Paxton got off on his floor and waved goodbye. The elevator doors closed and continued up, and when the doors opened Colt started to get out. He could hear laughter outside the elevator. A female laughing in the distance…one he recognized.

“Yeah, I’m going to go down to the bar for drinks,” Emma said, her phone resting against her ear. “Of course not.”

Who was she talking to? Colt got out and saw her down the hall. Emma’s cinnamon hair was pulled back in her usual ponytail. She wore her standard work uniform of training pants and matching zip-up jacket. A cap covered her head, her hair spilling out the back. Colt wanted to strip it all off of her. No matter what she wore he found her absolutely stunning.

Her room was next to his. She pushed her keycard into the door and entered it. Maybe he should go knock on the door. Would she let him in? Nope, probably not. His luck with her was not good—in fact, it was all around bad no matter how he looked at it.

But he heard her loud and clear. She planned on going to the bar. What he didn’t know was what the “of course not” meant at the end of her call. If only she’d stayed outside her room longer, he’d have more information. Still, he did have enough to work with. Colt headed to his room and dropped off his bag. He freshened up and made sure he was presentable. If Emma was going to be at the bar, he wanted to look his best. If he got his way she’d be more than talking to him—he didn’t hold his breath though.

He pocketed his room key and wallet. Colt stopped for one final look in the mirror and shook his head. This is what Emma had driven him to. He’d never been one to preen in front of a mirror before. Colt shook his head, disgusted with himself, and left the room. He looked down the hall at Emma’s room. He thought about knocking one more time and dismissed the idea again. He’d see her downstairs. Besides he might need a little liquid courage to deal with her.

When he got downstairs he sat at a corner table and waited for Paxton to come down. He didn’t want to hang out at the actual bar. Too many people gathered around there. In the corner he could watch the room and get a feel for it. Plus Emma wouldn’t see him when she first came inside.

“Can I get you anything?”

Colt looked up at the waitress. Her golden-blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. It cascaded down her back in waves. If he didn’t already have a thing for a woman with cinnamon hair he might have found her attractive.

“Yeah, bring me a beer.”

He tapped his fingers on top of the table and scoured the room. Emma had told someone she was going to the bar. Colt wanted to devour the sight of her as she entered. A sigh escaped his mouth. He shouldn’t let her monopolize his thoughts. He was supposed to hang out with Paxton not wish for Emma to pop into his line of sight.,

“Domestic or Imported.”

Colt wanted to laugh. Sometimes there were too many decisions in life. Something as simple as a beer became a major event. All he wanted to do was kick back and enjoy the evening, see where it led. “Surprise me.”

“Really? You’ll drink whatever I bring you?”

“That’s what I said.”

A slow, almost wicked, grin formed on her face. Maybe he made a mistake in suggesting she surprise him. Who knew what she’d bring him. Beer at least wasn’t prone to being a girl drink. How bad could it be?

“I’ll be right back with one.”

Colt nodded and began to tap his finger on the table with unrestrained impatience. How long would it take Emma to get down to the bar? He wanted to see her, talk to her—hold her. Emma didn’t appear, but Paxton did. He’d changed into something more comfortable looking than the suit he’d been wearing at the game—jeans and a plain green shirt. He still looked haunted, but it wasn’t as profound.

“You been waiting long?” Paxton asked.

“Nope, just got here a few minutes ago.”

“Here’s your beer,” the waitress said, reappearing. She set a brown bottle in front of him. The blue label read Samuel Adams Cherry Wheat.

“What’s this?” Colt asked.

“You said to surprise you,” she said, tongue in cheek. “It’s what I’d pick to drink.”

Paxton laughed so hard he clutched his waist with his arms. “Man, the look on your face, priceless.” He looked up at the waitress and handed her a hundred dollar bill. “Here, take his drink out of this and bring me a normal beer—Bud, Miller, I don’t care, and you can keep the change. You earned it for getting one over on Lewis.”

“Glad I could entertain you.” Colt glared. He picked up the bottle and stared at it. He shrugged and took a long swig. It didn’t taste too bad—maybe a little sweet for beer, but he’d drink it. “Not too bad actually.”

“Give me your man card, you lost the privilege of owning one.”

“What? I didn’t say I’d drink it all the time. It’s okay that’s all.”

“You never admit that out loud.” Paxton rolled his eyes. “Have you learned nothing?”

“It’s just you and me. No one will know.” Colt said.

“I know, that’s already too many people.”

“Fine, it’s the worst beer I’ve ever tasted.” Colt downed the whole bottle and set it down. “Now get me a real beer.”

“But you like that one. I think you need a few more of them,” Paxton declared.

Colt held out both hands. “No, I’m good, really.”

Paxton laughed and gestured for the waitress to come back. He was whispering something to her. Colt didn’t know what it was. He lost all interest when someone sashayed into the bar. He was riveted by the sight. Her cinnamon hair fell down her back in loose waves, and she had a soft smile on her gorgeous face. That wasn’t what had him awestruck. Emma had come to the bar to find someone to play with. She’d dressed in one of the sexiest outfits he’d ever seen—on her or anyone else. Black leather and gold lace, with killer gold stilettos…not a chance in hell was he leaving her alone. The men would be circling her like sharks after easy prey.

Damn it—it was going to be an agonizing night. Colt wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He knew trouble just landed in front of him.

“Excuse me,” he said to Paxton. “I saw something I need to go claim.”

He left the table, Paxton’s expression full of shock. Colt ignored him and strolled over to Emma’s side. When she saw him she smiled. A knowing grin—it said everything and nothing at the same time—almost as if she planned on destroying him with a glance. As he got closer he could see that her shirt was a sheer white…not leaving much to the imagination. He wanted to take her up to his room and strip her. His body enflamed as he studied hers. When he’d seen her in the hall he’d wanted her then, but nowhere near the intensity racking his body in that moment. Emma officially pushed him over the edge, and he gladly tumbled over. Colt was ready to claim her again whether she liked it or not. Emma belonged with him, and it was time for her to shut up and accept it.