The Playmaker Read online

  I pace some more, and a tortured growl catches in my throat. Kiss me whenever he wants. As if. I am not kissing him. Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—I wouldn’t kiss him. Not only is he a cocky bastard, he’s my brother’s best friend and I’ve known him since forever. He might as well be my brother, too, or a really close cousin.

  Ah, but you don’t think of him that way at all.

  I shut down that line of thinking and say, “By rights, I should have just introduced my knee to his crotch.”

  “But you didn’t, did you.” Jess says.

  I cut Jess a look. I could almost swear there was laughter in her tone, but she’s still looking at her nails. “No, I didn’t.”

  “And why do you think that is?”

  I draw in a long breath and slowly blow it back out. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s that thing about eating and having a roof over my head.”

  Jess pulls her phone from her purse and slides her finger over the screen. With her attention half on her latest text and half on me, she says, “Is that the only reason?”

  “Yes,” I shoot back quickly.

  She drops her phone, and her lips quirk as dubious brown eyes gaze at me like I’m telling half-truths, which I very well could be, but I’m not about to admit that.

  “Are those the only reasons, Nina?”

  “Of course they are.”

  “If you ask me—”

  “I didn’t ask you.”

  “Come on, admit it. You want a rage ride and you know it.”

  I stop and turn to face Jess, planting one hand on my hip. “Save the therapy for the classroom, Jess. I’m not one of your seniors in need of sex advice.”

  “Okay then, don’t anger-bang him.” She shrugs. “But what’s a little kiss between friends? He gets what he wants, you get what you want.”

  What do I want?

  The sudden vision of his mouth on mine flashes through me, and a big ball of fiery heat follows. I gulp, and work to refocus.

  “Okay, counselor. In your opinion, what do you think he wants, exactly? Why would he make kissing a condition? He doesn’t like me. I don’t like him.”

  “Ah, so now you want my advice, do you?”

  “Seriously, I just don’t get it.” I start pacing again.

  Her jaw drops open and she looks at me like I’m a bit dense. “Did you ever stop to think that he might like you?”

  “Like me? Ha! I think it’s more about teasing me, like he used to do when we were kids. He’s on a power trip, always has been. God, what an ass.” I walk to the window and pull my curtain back in time to see Mr. Johnson circle the black Mustang parked on the street in front of my building. What a ridiculous muscle car. With that ridiculous muffler that the neighbors can hear long before they see me coming.

  Overcompensating much?

  “If he’s such an ass, he wouldn’t have lent you his car to drive, for as long as you need it, instead of you bussing out to his place all the time.”

  “Yeah, so, that doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably so I can get there faster so he can toy with me longer. This is all your fault, you know.”

  “Hey, I didn’t twist your arm.”

  “But you did put the idea of sex in my brain,” I whisper under my breath, but not quietly enough, because Jess, with her Vulcan hearing, jumps from the sofa with a huge-ass grin on her face.

  “I knew it.”

  Giving up the act, I sink down onto the coffee table and bury my face in my hands. “Jesus, Jess, you should have seen him. He’s a cocky ass, yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s freaking hot. He walked around in nothing but his jeans, and then he took them off to get in the pool. He actually went swimming in his boxers. In front of me. He even invited me in.”

  I spread my fingers and glance at my friend. Her eyes go wide, and she plops onto the sofa across from me and rubs her hands together, waiting for all the juicy details. “Ohmigod, I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me. Tell me everything.”

  “He took his pants off. Like it was nothing. Like we undress in front of each other all the time.” I groan and shake my head.

  “So, is it true then? Do they call him the Cannon because he’s loaded?”

  I nod, unable to form the words as my mind races back to the sexy image of him standing by his pool…to the big bulge in his shorts, specifically.

  Excited by my confirmation, Jess throws her hands up in the air. “I knew it! Now you have to sleep with him.”

  “I don’t have to do anything.” I glance at my clock. “Other than go to his house and watch tonight’s game with him.” I stand and smooth my hair back. “But first I’m going to eat a Caesar salad with extra garlic.”

  Jess laughs. “I think it might take a lot more than garlic to deter him from kissing you.” She gives me the once over, her face thoughtful as she taps her chin, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she takes in my clothes. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

  I look at my frayed jean shorts and tank top. “It’s too hot for anything else. Do you think I should change?”

  She points at my legs. “No, you’re sexy as hell in those shorts, and that tank really shows off your tits.”

  Tit for tat.

  “Then I’ll change.” I make a move to go to my room and she captures my arm to stop me.

  “No, keep this on. I’m kidding. You look like hell. But when was the last time you trimmed the triangle?”

  I blink once, then twice. How are we friends? “Excuse me.”

  “You know, trimmed the triangle, beat down the beaver, Georged the bush.”

  “Georged the bush?” A laugh bursts out of me. “Ohmigod, girl. Who are you?” I ask. Georged the bush. Only Jess would come up with something like that. She really does crack me up, and when it comes down to it, she’s right about so many things. Like me needing to get laid…wanting to hate fuck.

  “Something tells me Cannon is a vagatarian, and you want be all neat and tidy when he kisses you down there, don’t you? I mean, it’s not like he specified where he wanted to put his mouth, right?”

  I point to the door. “On that note…”

  She jumps up from the sofa, and blows me a kiss and she saunters away. “Have fun, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do.” I shake my head and laugh in spite of her absurdity. I mean, it is absurd, right? He’s not really going to want to kiss me…down there. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Will this be before or after you do the nasty with Cannon?”

  “Jess…” I warn as the heat in my body spikes at the visual.

  Cut it out, Nina. You don’t want that.

  “Love you,” she says.

  “Love you, too.”

  She slips out the door, and I glance out the window to see her checking out the Mustang. She gives me two thumbs-up and slides into her car and takes off. I laugh again, despite myself. I do love Jess, but I think she’s all wrong where Cole is concerned. Not the part about him having a cannon between his legs, but the part about him wanting to kiss me because he likes me. No way can she be right about that. Then again, it’s illogical to kiss someone he truly hates. Is it possible that he likes me, at least enough to kiss me?

  As I contemplate that, I grab a handful of strawberries from my near-empty fridge, and pop them into my mouth. I snag my purse and notepad from the kitchen counter and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. I head outdoors, lock up behind myself, and stare at the Mustang.

  “Here goes nothing,” I whisper.

  I jump into the car and cringe as the rumbling muffler gains the attention of my neighbors. I smile politely and wave, then pull into traffic. Cole said the game started at seven, but I want to get there early in case he wants to go over anything with me first.

  Like kissing.

  No. No. No. Not like kissing. Like slang and things like that, so I can understand the plays better.

  I jack the tunes and look aro
und the clean vehicle. It still has that new-car smell and hardly any miles on it. With Cole being on the road, and then the concussion, he probably hasn’t even had a chance to break it in yet, see what it can do. I press the gas pedal and speed up to find out for myself. Nice.

  Truthfully, though, it was very kind of Cole to lend me a vehicle, since it was just sitting there unused. What a nice brotherly thing for him to do. Cason would be pleased by his friend’s generosity.

  As the sun begins its descent over the horizon, I pull into his driveway and power down the car. I stare at his big house and suck in a breath as I rationalize our deal. I can understand the skating part, but the kissing…

  He had to be kidding about that, right? I mean, he’s always teased me about everything, so he has to be teasing about this too. Yeah, he has to be, because the guy doesn’t even like me. There was really no reason for me to fixate on that and get so worked up today. This was just Cole being Cocky Cannon. When it comes right down to it, he doesn’t want to kiss me any more than I want him to.

  I let loose a relieved breath—and try not to examine the tiny twinge of disappointment fluttering in my gut.

  Damn you, Jess.

  I climb from the car and the front door opens, and I once again find Cole waiting for me as I make my way up the long walkway. Funny how that makes me feel so strange. Growing up, there was never anyone home to greet Cason or me after school, after practice, after…anything. I kind of like the normalcy of it, of having someone waiting for you, looking forward to seeing you. Not that I think Cole is looking forward to seeing me.

  He removes the shirt hooked over his shoulder and tugs it on as I approach, his big frame filling up the doorway. Thank God he’s dressing. I don’t know how I’d make it through the night if he were half naked again.

  “Do you just stand at your door and wait for people to come by?” I ask.

  His smile is slow, cocky as hell. “No, I heard you coming.”

  “Hard not to.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “I think your muffler is broke.”

  “That’s just how it sounds.”

  “You know what they say about guys with noisy mufflers.” What the hell am I doing? Shut up, Nina. Shut up right now before you back yourself into a corner and have to use the word penis in front of Cole.

  “You mean about overcompensating?” he asks, and turns to the side to allow me to pass. “That a man with a small cock compensates by getting a noisy muffler?”

  Heat burns my face, and I keep my back to Cole, dying of embarrassment. But he steps around me, and a sexy grin splits his lips when he sees the color on my cheeks.

  “Hey, you’re the one who brought it up.”

  I tug my notepad from my purse. “We should get to work.”

  “What’s the hurry? The game doesn’t start for another hour.” He rubs his stomach. “I was about to order pizza. Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat,” I say, the strawberries I had for dinner doing little to fill my stomach.

  “What do you like on your pizza?”

  “Vagatarian.” Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m really going to kill my bestie. “I mean vegetarian. Vegetarian,” I say again.

  “You don’t eat meat?”

  “No, I eat meat,” I say quickly. “I love meat.” His grin widens, and I know exactly what’s going through his little pea brain. Why oh why does everything sound sexual when I’m around him. “I just don’t like all the processed meats on pizza,” I add. “They’re full of nitrates, and not very good for you.”

  “So you only like to put things that are good for you in your mouth.”

  I stare at him, pretty sure he’s making this about sex. With every ounce of me fighting the urge to punch that playful grin off his face, I choose my words carefully, so he can’t twist them into something dirty. “Yes. I like to eat healthy,” I say.

  He nods in agreement and runs his fingers through his dark hair, messing it up. Damn, that makes him look sexier—and here I thought that was impossible.

  “I normally do too, but the pizza joint is just around the corner and it’s quick and easy.”

  That gives me pause. The last time I was here, there was a pizza box on his kitchen counter. “Wait, have you been eating takeout for the last a month?”

  “Yeah. I can’t drive to get groceries because of the concussion, and I don’t really do a lot of cooking anyway.”

  “What about your dad? Couldn’t he help you out?”

  He stiffens at the mention of his dad. “No,” is all he says, but I don’t miss the defensiveness in his tone.

  “Friends?”

  “I live on the ice, my friends are all hockey players, and they’re on the road right now.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “Single.”

  I hate the little thrill that goes through me with that admission. I don’t care if he’s single. It means nothing to me, other than he has no girl to help him out when he’s down, and that just plain sucks.

  “Sister?”

  He frowns, and looks down, like he’s remembering something painful. “She’s away, working on the East Coast.”

  “Oh, wow, I didn’t realize. She sure moved far away from home.”

  “Yup,” is all he says.

  “Well, you shouldn’t be living on takeout. I can take you to the grocery store. You should at least have fresh fruit and vegetables. I can even pick us up some steaks and cook them for us instead of ordering in.” I gesture with a nod to the deck area. “When I was here yesterday, I saw a barbeque out by the pool.”

  “Yeah?” He cocks his head to the side. “You’ll take me shopping?”

  Why does that surprise him so much? Okay, yeah, sure, we don’t like each other, but I’m not a monster. I’d help anyone out in this kind of situation. Enemy or not. “Of course.”

  “And you’ll cook?”

  “Yeah, it’s not a problem.” I throw my purse back over my shoulder.

  He frowns, and waves his hands to stop me. “Wait, wait, you did enough cooking growing up. You shouldn’t have to do it for me.”

  “I really don’t mind. I like being in the kitchen, and your equipment…I can’t wait to try it out.”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  Oh, shit. I really need to stop saying things about his equipment, even if I am referring to his appliances…at least I’m pretty sure I am.

  Gawd…

  I steal a glance at the clock and clear my throat before saying, “I think I’ll have time to prepare a healthy meal before the game starts.”

  “You will if I help.”

  “You?” I poke my finger into his chest—and wish I hadn’t touched him. It does the craziest things to the needy little spot between my legs. Working diligently to pull myself together and pretend his hard muscles and strong heartbeat hadn’t affected me, I continue with, “The self-proclaimed bachelor who can’t cook is offering to help me?”

  His cocky grin is back. “Sure, tit for tat, remember?”

  I roll my eyes. “Come on. You can talk to me about hockey in the car.”

  “Okay, but is that the tit or tat part?” he asks.

  “Just so we’re clear, there will be no tit part,” I say, but then embarrassment floods me when I realize what I said. Sure, I write hot sex in my books, but in real life, I don’t talk dirty or say things like…tit, or penis, or worst of all…cock. Ugh.

  “So all tat, huh?” He grabs his house keys from the table near the door and locks up behind us. “I can work with that.”

  “Good.” We hop into the Mustang and I back out of his driveway, but being in such an enclosed space with him, and him smelling so damn good and clean and soapy, is messing with my brain. “Where is the closest grocery store?” I ask.

  “You’re asking me?”

  “Right, what was I thinking?” I gesture to the bulge in his jeans. Not the one I can’t seem to stop checking out, but the one in his pocket. “Check your phone.”

  From the corner of my eye, I steal
a glimpse of him as he stretches out those long hard legs of his and tugs his phone from his pants pocket. He pulls up a map. “Turn right at the stop sign.” I follow his directions and make quick, efficient turns, appreciating how the Mustang handles. A few minutes later, we pull up in front of the grocery store. I kill the engine and reach for the door handle, but beside me Cole hesitates.

  He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

  Knowing exactly what’s he’s going though, I put my hand on his arm, and his lids flicker open. I shouldn’t have dragged him along in his current condition. What was I thinking? “Why don’t you take a minute?”

  “I seriously appreciate your skilled driving, but I think the motion caused a bit of vertigo.”

  He thinks I’m a skilled driver?

  No one has ever complimented me on my driving before.

  I give a quick shake of my head. What does that even matter? What’s really important here is his health. I look him over, take in the pallor of his skin, the sweat beading on his upper lip. My heart squeezes. It can’t be easy for him to be down and out with a concussion, missing out on playing a game he obviously loves, and having no one to help him.

  Something inside of me softens. I squeeze his arm. “Why don’t you wait here? I can run in and grab a few things.”

  “No, I’ll come.” He pulls a pair of sunglasses from the glove box and slides them on. I study him for a moment, and he says, “Sometimes fluorescent lights bother me.”

  “I know. It was the same for me.”

  “What a pair we are, huh?” I’m about to pull my hand away when he slides his big warm palm over it, his rough calluses scoring my flesh as he holds me in place. “Nina, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you when you had your concussion.” He frowns, and behind his lenses I’m almost certain I see sorrow in his eyes.

  What the hell? Who is this Cole?

  “Cason and I,” his voice catches, like his words are stuck in his throat, “were on the road and—”

  “It’s okay, Cole. I’m not your responsibility.”

  He goes quiet for a moment and looks down at his lap, his brow knitted tightly. “Yeah, well, I just wanted to say I was sorry, about that and your injuries. You were one hell of a skater.”