Sensual Games (Novak Springs #3) (14 page)

Emma threw her suitcase on her bed. The look in Colt’s eyes—it seared through her. She’d hurt him something fierce. How could she have let it get so far? She was a moron. Did she want him? Yes, yes she did—but she didn’t know how much. She still had trouble trusting him.

“You don’t look like a woman who finally got what she’d been craving. Why are you home so early? Don’t you have another game in Dallas?” Tori leaned against the door frame of the bedroom.

Her caramel-blonde hair was piled high in a loose bun on top of her head, her feet bare of her signature stilettos, a sign she was comfortable in her own home.

“Yes and I’m only going to be back for a day—I had to come home. I couldn’t be there the entire time.” Emma sighed. “Things didn’t go quite the way I had planned.”

“What went wrong?”

“Everything went right—until I froze.”

Tori strolled into the bedroom and pulled Emma into her arms. “Tell me all about it.”

Tears fell from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “I messed up so bad.”

She’d done more than mess up. Emma had tumbled down a deep ravine of total annihilation. What she’d done—there were no words worthy of describing how horribly she’d screwed herself where Colt was concerned. How does one explain such a colossal mistake?

Tori took a step back and wiped the tears from Emma’s cheeks. “It can’t be as horrible as you think.”

“No, it’s probably much worse.”

Tori grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room. “Let’s go downstairs and open a bottle of wine. You can tell me what Colt did to upset you.”

Emma followed her out of her bedroom and down the stairs, only because a glass of wine sounded wonderful. No, she’d need several to get through the misery swallowing her whole. First, she should own up to her own culpability in the situation. “It wasn’t Colt. I’m totally to blame for my own misery.”

Tori pulled a bottle of Riesling off her wine rack. “How so?”

She grabbed two wine glasses and set them on the counter. Emma sat on one of the barstools. Tori popped the cork and filled the glasses. She handed one to Emma.

“He—did everything right.”

Tori raised her eyebrow. “Then how did it go wrong?”

“After…” Emma took a big gulp of the wine to calm her nerves. “It was so beautiful—lovely—much better than I recalled.”

“Ah, so you did go all the way with him.”

Emma’s lips wobbled into a little smile. “Oh yeah, up until the end it went perfect.”

“Then?” Tori raised an eyebrow. “I fail to see what the problem is.”

How to explain what her issue was? How could she trust Colt with her heart again? All her old doubts swamped her at the worst possible time. Why couldn’t she let them go? Did she really need proof that Colt never cheated on her? Didn’t she already know the answer to that question? Perhaps it was time to put it all to rest once and for all. First she’d have to explain the whole debacle to Tori.

“He wanted to cuddle—he didn’t come out and say that—he pulled me into his arms like he had a right too.” She paused and glanced at Tori. “I couldn’t stay.”

“You ran away?”

“Not exactly—I mean yes I did. That’s when it started to crumble.”

The look on Colt’s face—she destroyed something fundamental with her actions. How could he ever let that go? Could they ever get back what they once had? Emma had misgivings about everything. She still cared about him, but sometimes it wasn’t so easy to forget the pain you caused or the hurt that ached deep inside of your own heart. Life was diabolically chaotic—one huge kettle filled with emotional pandemonium. Weeding through it was never easy. There was no clear path, just a jumbled path full of stumbling blocks. Emma had to pick one and stick to it. Holding on—and letting go—wasn’t fair to her or Colt.

“I thought you’d made a decision.” Tori threw her arms up in the air. “What am I going to do with you?”

Emma bit her lip. “Have you found Melody? I realize I’m like, starting to sound like a bad recording, but if I talked to her…”

“You don’t need to talk to Melody to know what’s in your heart. What’s with you Novaks?”

Emma scrunched her eyebrows together. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“You do know why Wes hated me so much don’t you?”

Emma shook her head. “He didn’t give me all the gory details. My brothers think I need to be coddled.”

All she knew was one minute Wes couldn’t stand Tori and the next he was madly in love with her. When he’d been shot on Dallas’s wedding day everything had become clear. The way Tori fretted over him and the possibility of losing Wes—she loved him. They were well on to building a love story for the record books.

“Viv got involved with a crime family. She’d been working undercover. I don’t know all the details, but she’d been dating Wes’s friend, Eric. Your brother, the idiot, saw something and of course assumed the worst. I know sometimes things aren’t always what they seem to be—he jumped to an erroneous conclusion.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “He thought you were Viv didn’t he?”

“Most definitely, and he tortured me every time he saw me because of it.”

Emma closed her eyes and shook her head. “My brother’s a moron.”

Tori sighed. “I’m not telling you this so you give him a hard time. I’m trying to make you see that you’re guilty of the same thing.”

Emma tilted her head and studied Tori. Was she jumping to conclusions? Did she berate Colt for something he didn’t do? Could it be that simple?

Her hands clenched into fists at her side. She lifted her chin and stared at Tori. “How so?”

“You have all the proof you need that Colt never betrayed you.”

Emma folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot. She spun around and headed to the window to look outside. The view outside was something mundane to focus on—a calm before she continued the conversation.

When she thought she was ready to ask the hard questions, she took a deep breath and let the words come tumbling out. “Just because Missy’s baby isn’t his doesn’t mean he didn’t cheat on me.”

It was hard to say it. Those incidents, as she liked to call them, had led to the destruction of her relationship with Colt. At the head of it was Missy—and possibly her sister Melody.

“In your heart you know better.” Tori wrapped her arms around Emma’s waist and leaned her head on her back. “That man loves you so much. He’d do anything to get you to see it. I’d bet my trust fund he has done everything and anything to get your attention.”

Emma sighed and tapped her hand over Tori’s. She turned to face her. “I don’t bet against the house—losing isn’t my best look.”

“Falling on your face and admitting you’re wrong is going to be fabulous.” Tori’s lips twitched into a full-on blinding grin. “I think you’ll start a new fashion trend.”

Emma laughed. “I never said I’d do any crawling, falling, or any word you want to use to describe it. I’m not as sure as you seem to be.”

Tori sighed. “Listen to your heart. It won’t steer you wrong.”

“Right.” She frowned. “As much as this heart to heart is needed I have to finish packing for tonight’s trip. Why don’t you grab your wine and follow me back upstairs so we can finish this conversation.”

Tori nodded and followed Emma back up to her room. Emma did her best to ignore Tori’s last comment. She didn’t want to listen to her heart because she was afraid of what it might tell her.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you ignored my last statement,” Tori said. “But don’t worry I’m going to help you whether you want me to or not.”

Emma shrugged her shoulders and started to go through the mess of clothes in her suitcase. She tossed the dirty laundry in her hamper and began to pack again. Her flight to Dallas left on the red eye. She really shouldn’t have come home, but the idea of gaining some distance had appealed to her once she arrived at the airport.

“You want to know what I think?”

Emma ignored her and folded another shirt and placed it in her bag. Tori grabbed the suitcase and pulled it to the other side of the bed.

“Hey, I was putting clothes in there.”

“Yeah, the wrong ones.”

Emma put her hands on her hips and glared at her. “Fine, tell me what’s rolling around in that head of yours. I doubt you will leave me in peace until you do.”

“You need to go to Dallas with a plan—and no I’m not talking about seducing Colt. He’s easy, so that isn’t going to take much anyway.”

“I don’t need one.” Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m going to do my job and come home.”

“No, that won’t do.” Tori shook her head. “You’re not going to hear what your heart’s telling you if you avoid the issue.”

Emma let out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her soon to be sister-in-law had a one track mind. She was stubborn and determined to make Emma see her way was best. Well bully for her. Once she escaped Tori’s penthouse she’d do things her way.

“I rushed into this once, Tori. I’m not about to repeat my previous mistake.”

“Making love with Colt was not the blunder you think it was—leaving him is where you fucked up.”

“Not pulling any punches today, are you?” Emma’s eyes widened. “Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.”

Emma didn’t want to admit how much Tori’s words stung. She had a point—a lot of them if she were to be honest with herself. Which she didn’t want to do—a big problem if she wanted to get all her emotions sorted out. One thing at a time. After the game she’d talk to Colt. She didn’t want to distract him from the playoff game. It was a big one. If they won, they’d be heading to the Super Bowl. If they lost, they’d be watching it from the comfort of their home on television.

“I think you’re the biggest moron I know—and that’s something considering how long Wes held that title.”

“Ginny told me not to tell him how I feel. To enjoy being with him. I can’t help that I seized up in panic.” Emma chewed on her bottom lip. “It’s not so easy for me to let go and trust him anymore.”

“Take one day at a time and do what I told you to,” Tori reiterated.

“Yeah, yeah, listen to my heart blah-blah.”

“Don’t make fun of me. I know what I’m talking about. Not too long ago I was in your shoes. It’s not the same thing, but it took a lot for me to open up and let Wes in. He’d been such an asshole for so long I wasn’t about to trust him with my heart. It took him getting shot to finally make me open up and realize I couldn’t live without him. Don’t let yourself fall into a similar situation. You don’t want to wait until it’s too late.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emma agreed. “I’ll take everything under consideration. Can I finish packing now?”

“No, I’m going to pack for you. Dallas is warm, and you’re going to need some sexy outfits for when he wins the game. There’s going to be an unbelievable celebration.”

Emma didn’t want to argue with Tori. She’d add some more sensible items after she was done with her suitcase. “Fine, do your worst.”

Emma’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and swore every obscenity she knew—which was a lot. “Colt and Paxton went to Vegas.”

Tori’s mouth hung open. She closed it and repeated some of Emma’s profanities. “What the hell are they thinking?”

“They’ve lost all capability of making rational decisions. The coach wants me to go retrieve them. When I get my hands on them…”

“I should come with you.” Tori started to walk out of the room.

Emma called out to her causing her to halt in her tracks and glance over her shoulder. “No, stay here. There isn’t any reason for their PR person to make an appearance. They need to be wrangled back to where they belong. They have training sessions tomorrow. It’s not party time yet.”

“Call me if you need me. I’ll be on the next flight out. Now let’s get you packed and headed out. Who knows what those two idiots are up to. Oh, and Emma…” Tori paused. “I take it back—you’re not the top moron anymore. Those two share the spot.”

Emma had to agree. Just what she needed—to go and track down two men acting like children. At least she could be grateful for something to keep her mind off her troubles. She’d listen to her heart when she had time.

Emma stepped into the crowded casino and scanned the game floor. Lights blinked in various colors dotting the entire area. The noise level rose to some of the highest decibels she’d ever experienced—and that said a lot considering she worked in a football stadium. Between the screams of joy, despair, and the constant shrills of the slots, next to nothing could be heard around her. She glanced at her watch—it was already nine o’clock. If she found them in time, they might be able to catch a red eye, but she didn’t think it would be that easy. They’d probably catch the first flight out in the morning.

Armed with the information of the hotel Colt and Paxton checked into, Emma had booked a room and went to their room—hoping they’d holed up inside. No such luck as knocking resulted in no response from inside. Now she had to go hunt the bastards down. When she found them there would be hell to pay. The ridiculousness of the situation was so damned mind-boggling. What professional athlete decided to go partying before one of the biggest games of their life?

Colt Lewis, idiot extraordinaire, followed closely by his newest buddy, Paxton Kerry—two peas in a pod overflowing with dim-witted choices.

She let out a long deep breath and stomped forward. Maybe she’d get lucky and they hadn’t ventured from the hotel’s casino. If they wandered off in Vegas it would be difficult to locate the two morons. She didn’t want to think about that possibility. If they weren’t in the hotel casino she’d have to camp outside their hotel room and wait for them—a possibility she wasn’t looking forward too. Emma still couldn’t believe they’d decided on an impromptu vacation to Vegas in the middle of the playoffs. They’d clearly lost their ever-loving minds.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Emma spun around to see a waitress standing next to her. She’d barely heard her above the constant beeps of the slot machine next to her. Her teeth grazed her lip as she stared off in to the sea of twirling red sevens and blazing diamonds. Colt and Paxton weren’t the slot machine type. They’d run for something with higher stakes—poker, blackjack, maybe even craps. Emma leaned more toward poker… Colt had always been drawn to Texas hold ‘em.

“No, but can you point me in the direction of the poker tables?”

The waitress slid her drink tray under her arm and waved toward the back of the casino to explain where Emma should go. “If you go left and follow the penny slots all the way down to the back of the casino and then take a sharp right you’ll find a room with table play. There are black jack tables, roulette, and poker inside.”

“What about high stakes?”

Emma’s head turned sharply toward the direction the waitress pointed. Colt and Paxton were probably in that very room—at least she prayed they were. The head coach was pissed. They were lucky she was the one retrieving them from their stupidity. Maybe this would all be over soon, provided she could convince them to leave with her.

“There should be a table there for that too. They also have private tables available.”

Private tables? Emma wasn’t sure she knew what that meant. She’d never played poker in any place other than the kitchen table at Novak Springs. This was all new to her. Gambling had never been her thing—even if she had a knack for it. Poker could be fun, with the right incentives. She’d played a variation with Colt while they’d been dating, but money hadn’t been on the table.

Emma nodded. “Good, thanks for your help.”

She headed in the direction of the tables. It took her fifteen minutes to weave her way through the crowd. People were laughing, some of them drunk and falling over, but most of them were hovered over a slot machine praying to the gambling gods they would hit big. Emma scoffed at the ridiculousness of it. Winning big didn’t happen that often. The house always came out ahead.

She neared the turn toward the room the waitress indicated. When she entered, the difference in noise was palpable. There was still talking and goofing off, but without the constant slot machine noise it was much easier to hear around her. Emma halted inside the doorway and scanned the room. There were clear signs marking the different types of games. She dismissed roulette immediately. Her eyes landed on the sign for poker, and she made a beeline toward the tables.

Luck seemed to be on her side. At the far table Paxton and Colt sat next to each other laughing as they picked up cards off the table. They were the only two seated. Paxton tapped the green felt and made a gesture to the dealer. Colt picked up a glass filled with amber liquid and downed the contents. He set it down hard against the edge of the table and motioned to a woman nearby. She giggled and inched closer to him. Her breasts were at his eye level as her platinum blonde hair spilled down her back in loose curls.

The whole room became tinged in scarlet as Emma worked her way over to the table. She stopped right in front of them and punched Colt in the nose. His hand flew up to protect himself from further assault.

“Ouch, what the fuck…” His gaze flew up and landed on hers. Irritation spread across his face, his lips pinching together in displeasure.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did my fist get in the way of your nose? My bad.” Emma clenched her hands into tight balls at the side of her hips. She resisted the urge to launch another punch.

“Damn it, Emma, was that necessary?” Colt’s hand cupped his nose as he winced in pain.

Paxton burst out laughing. Hilarity poured out of him in waves. He held his stomach with both hands and fell to the floor, knocking the chair over as he hit it with a thud, the contents of his own drink splashing all over his navy blue T-shirt.

“It’s not funny, dickhead.”

“I beg to differ. That’s humorous shit there.” Paxton grinned ear to ear. “Hey, Emma, nice of you to drop in. Can always count on you to make things more entertaining.” He set his chair back upright and sat. “What’s next? I’ve been dying here. Lewis here is a bit of a drag.”

Emma glared at him. He stopped laughing immediately. Her gaze flew back to Colt. She couldn’t believe he’d been so loving and wonderful—and now he was flirting with the hussy standing over him. Had she finally pushed him over the edge? Was this the answer to her constant back and forth with him? If so, she didn’t like it. If the blonde ho-bag touched him again she’d punch her in the nose. Emma turned her full attention on her—she needed to go, and soon.

The bimbo gulped, her eyes darting between Emma and Colt. She took several steps back and put distance between them.

Message received loud and clear—Colt was not available.

“Oh, that looks bad. I’ll go get some ice for it.” As she walked away, her pace was as rapid as her mile-high stilettos allowed.

“Bring me another drink too,” Colt yelled after her. “Hell bring the whole bottle. I’m going to need it.”

“Alcohol is the last thing you need.”

“I beg to differ. I need a damn case if I’m going to have to deal with you.” His eyes shot daggers at her. He fished out an ice cube from Paxton’s glass and wrapped it in the cocktail napkin and held it against his nose. “Why did you come here? You don’t want me, remember.”

Emma sneered. “That’s right. I definitely don’t want your sorry ass if this is how you’re going to act, but lucky for you I’m not here to chase after you.” She rested her hands on her hips and glared at both of them. “Well, not in the sense you’re implying. Coach got wind of your little vacation and sent me to get you. He’s not pleased with your reckless behavior.”

“I don’t care.” Colt turned back to the table. “I’m on a winning streak and I’m not leaving until I lose.”

Shit. This wasn’t going to be easy. If threatening him with the coach wouldn’t get him moving nothing would. Emma needed a new plan. Reasoning with him wouldn’t work if he was beyond logic. How to get him on board with her plan? An idea started to form in her mind—she just needed to implement it.

“Oh?” Emma studied her fingernails, acting as nonchalant as possible. “Against Paxton? Doesn’t seem like much of a contest.” Goading him was the quickest way to get him to follow where she led.

“Hey, I resent that implication.” Paxton’s mouth turned up into a cocky grin. “I’m not easy—I mean I am—”he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively,“—with the right incentive. But I never let anyone win.”

“And yet Colt insists he’s beating you—doesn’t seem like you have what it takes to win.” Emma shrugged. “Of course if you want him to keep kicking your ass, who am I to stop you.”

“Leave him alone. He doesn’t need you kicking him in the proverbial ass.” Colt set the dripping wet napkin on the table. “What will it take to get you to leave?”

Good. He was going to do exactly what she wanted. Emma suppressed a grin of triumph. “If you want to play, why don’t we make things more interesting?”

Colt leaned back in his chair and stared up at her. “What do you have in mind?”

“I’ll join the game. I can take Paxton’s place.”

Paxton held his hand up. “Hey, I want to play too.”

Emma turned toward him and stared at him for several seconds. “Too bad. You’re already losing, remember?”

“Fine, take my place.” Paxton threw up his hands in defeat. “You can have my chips too, but I am staying. Someone needs to referee.”

Emma didn’t have a problem with that. “Fine.”

“Okay, you’re going to play. What are the stakes?” Colt asked.

“If I win you go back and prepare for the game. No arguments.”

“What do I get if I win?”

Emma gulped. This was the problem. Did she want to play this game with him? This could be potentially higher stakes than she’d ever played in her life. If she lost—Colt would want a lot more than she was prepared to give.

Time to bite the bullet, so to speak—accept whatever hand fate dealt her…

“What do you want?”

Colt rubbed his chin and studied her. “I can tell you think I’m going to ask for you as my prize, but here’s the thing, Emma. I don’t want to win you over a game of cards. I’ve always wanted more than that from you.” He leaned over and yanked her into his lap. “So if I win, what I want is a different kind of promise from you. I want a chance. You have to spend time with me. Date me. Let me show you how it could be—without sex.” His fingers trailed across her hip and down her leg until his hand came to a rest on her knee.

“How long?” Emma squirmed in his lap. “If I’m going to date you, how much time do I have to give you to prove yourself?”

“As long as I want.”

“No, I’m not agreeing to an open-ended timeline. I want a specific timeframe in place.”

“Fine.” His fingers skimmed down her back, leaving a trail of energy. “If you still don’t want me by Valentine’s Day I’ll give up for good. We’ll go out, celebrate the day of lovers, and once and for all know if we’re meant to be together.”

“Three weeks?” He thought that was enough time to win her over? It didn’t matter. Emma planned on winning, so what he wanted didn’t really matter. If she lost—she’d deal with his dating idea. “What are the rules?”

“First—you need a few drinks. I’m already ahead of you in the drunk department. We need to be on an even keel to be fair.”

What? He wanted her to play drunk. That changed things a bit. She didn’t think well under the influence of alcohol. Who was she kidding? She didn’t think clearly under the influence of Colt—she was dizzy with sensations from sitting on his lap. “How much?”

“Three glasses of whiskey… down the hatch in under five minutes.”

Emma hated whiskey. “Fine. What’s your other concession?”

“First one to run out of money or the one to take three hands wins.” Colt signaled the dealer. “Can we have a private game between the two of us?”

“Certainly, Mr. Lewis.”

“Great, and have a waitress bring us another glass and a bottle of your best whiskey. Emma and I are playing the highest stakes we’ve ever played—and I intend to win.”

A different waitress brought over a glass and a bottle of whiskey and set it on the table. Colt opened it and poured some of the amber liquid into a glass. He set it in front of her. “Drink up, Emma.”

She lifted the glass and downed it in one gulp. It burned as it traveled down her throat. The glass hit the table with a quiet thud. Colt filled it again and made a drinking gesture. Emma repeated it two more times. The room spun a little after she drank the third glass—no way did Colt drink his whiskey as fast as he’d insisted she do it.

“Are you ready to play?”

Colt’s face swam in front of her. Time to find her own seat, Colt’s lap was too distracting. “Deal the cards.”

The next several hands would determine their next step. If she won, Colt would follow her to catch the red eye. If she lost—the game was just starting.