Plan B (24 page)

Lance leaned back only slightly, but his eyes instantly went to the hand I had on my thigh. He licked his lips and when he looked back up, his eyes were heavy-lidded.

This had been a really, really bad idea.

I gestured toward the stage, where the stripper had turned and was now straddling Bo in the opposite direction, her firm ass swaying only inches from Bo’s bright red face. “He appears to be enjoying the show.”

Lance cast a quick glance at the stage then back at me. “Katie would kill him if she saw this.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to tell her. What happens tonight stays between the three of us.”

He nodded and took a big gulp of his beer, and then moved his chair closer until our thighs were touching. He draped an arm over the back of my chair, our heads only an inch apart. “You like living in New York?”

“Uh… yeah.” I nodded toward the stage again. “Hot blonde bimbo is dry-fucking Bo and you want to talk about New York?”

“I’m just curious how you’ve been.”

“Now?”

“You’re a lot more interesting than what’s happening up there. A lot hotter too.”

Please, please, please don’t do this! Please don’t say things like that
, I begged him silently. I knew if he kept up this line of conversation, I’d end up doing things that I would regret by the time this weekend was over. I needed to steer this conversation away from me.

“New York is great. I hear you were drafted by Minnesota. You like it there?”

“It’s okay.” He shrugged.

The crowd got even louder; the group of guys at the table to our right went to their feet and screamed while waving dollars. On the stage, the blonde had been joined by two other women, one redhead and one brunette. Bo was now on his feet, his shirt open, arms thrown around the blonde and the redhead as they moved him toward the stairs. He looked blissed out. The brunette was moving down the stairs, no doubt to work the crowd. From the reaction of the drunk boys next to us, she was in for a rowdy time.

“Looks like Bo liked it up there!”

Lance sat back in his chair, but he didn’t move it away from mine. “Yup, better order that boy a shot.”

The strippers plopped Bo down in the chair back at our table and they each kissed him on the cheek. He popped one on the bare butt as she moved away, making her squeal. “Drinks on me!” he yelled, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Down, tiger! Katie will rip your balls off if you spend your honeymoon money. Here, start with this.” I handed him the last shot of tequila and got the attention of a waitress.

It took three hours, another lap dance, and hiding Bo’s wallet before he finally laid his head down on the table and tapped out. Through it all I was painfully aware of Lance sitting next to me, felt his eyes on me the entire time, and I was a fucking mess. I hadn’t had any more to drink, switching to Coke, knowing I’d have to help Bo back to the hotel room. It was the most excruciating three hours of my life.

Lance was right there. All I had to do was reach out and grab him. Pull him to me and press our mouths together. The look in his eyes said he’d welcome it. The attraction between us was arcing and flashing like lightning, growing in intensity with each passing moment. The air around us sizzled with electricity. Fuck, I wanted him. I wanted him so bad every cell in my body ached with the need. Only the pressure in my chest, the viselike grip around my heart, held me back.

Lance and I on either side of Bo, we finally pulled him to his feet and got him out the door. The cool air of the night felt great on my skin; the quiet helped soothe my throbbing head—the one on my shoulders anyway. Neither of us said a word as we walked Bo—or rather, dragged him—back to the hotel and got him tucked into bed.

It wasn’t until we had him settled that Lance turned those gray eyes on me and said, “Want to come to my room for a nightcap?”

Yes!
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” I told him reluctantly. “I’m not sure I could keep my hands off you if we were alone.”

“What if I don’t want you to keep your hands off me?” he asked, moving closer into my personal space and crowding as he looked down at me.

I swallowed hard. “Lance, I don’t think—”

He reached up and brushed the back of his knuckles gently along my jaw. “I’ve missed you. I told myself I wouldn’t do this, that I could handle being in the same room with you and not touch you. But I can’t. I’ve missed you so fucking much, Danny. There hasn’t been a day since you walked out of my life that I haven’t thought about you.”

I leaned into his touch, even knowing I shouldn’t. If I were smart, I’d ask him to leave, crawl into the empty bed, and put this night behind me. Tomorrow, after the ceremony, I’d never have to see Lance Lenard again.

“Please,” he whispered. “I’m not going to push you into anything. At least come to my room, have one drink, and tell me about your life in New York. Tell me you’re happy.”

Smarts hadn’t always been my strong point, at least not when it came to Lance. I turned away from him, grabbed my room key, stuffing it into my pocket. “Lead the way.”

I was so fucked, both in a good way, and in a very, very, very bad way.

I
FOLLOWED
Lance down the hall to his room. I was vibrating with excitement and arousal as I watched him move. Each step he took flexed those bulging muscles and made me tingle. My gut, however, wasn’t getting with the program. It was rumbling and rolling, nausea threatening, but I kept moving. I hadn’t ever been able to say no to Lance, and no amount of time apart had changed that.

Lance ran his key card in the lock and held open the door for me. He didn’t move and I was forced to brush against him, intensifying the excitement.

“Make yourself at home,” Lance said as he dropped his key and wallet on the dresser.

I took a seat in one of the club chairs—the bed seemed like a bad idea.

“What can I get you to drink? I’ve got soda, water, or we can crack open the bar.”

“Water is fine.”

Lance rummaged in the small fridge, pulled out two bottles of water, handing me one and taking the other, and sat in the chair next to me.

“I think Bo had a good time. I’m not so sure he’ll remember it, but that’s probably not a bad thing.” Lance twisted open his bottle of water and took a long gulp. My eyes were drawn to his throat working and I squirmed in my seat.

I opened my own water and took a sip to wet my dry throat. “Yeah, I was a little worried at first it was going to be a bust, but I think he enjoyed himself.”

“It was a little tense at first.” He gave me a small smile. “I admit I was a little freaked out after seeing you.”

“I have that effect on people,” I said, trying to relieve some of the tension that seemed to hang in the air. “I’m kind of freaky.”

“I wouldn’t use that description,” he murmured, bottle against his lips, and then tipped it up again.

“No? What description would you use?”

Lance stared down at the bottle in his hand, thumb rubbing across the condensation that dripped down the side. “Unforgettable,” he finally said.

That had me chuckling. “I’m one of a kind, that’s for damn sure.”

“Yeah, you are,” he said sincerely, gaze meeting mine.

The look in his eyes made me uncomfortable and I had to look away, the laughter dying in my throat.

“So tell me about Minnesota. What’s it like playing ball there?”

“It’s great, but I’m not too confident I’ll be playing there much longer.”

“How come?”

“Did some damage to my shoulder. They did their best to repair it, but it keeps dislocating. I spent the last year on the injured reserve list. Still not up to game-ready.”

“Man, that sucks.”

“One of the hazards of the job,” he said wistfully.

I reached down and untied my boots, pulling them off and tucking my feet up under me. I sat facing him, picking at the label on my bottle. “So what are you going to do if you can’t play ball?”

“I don’t know. I have a few options. Trainer, maybe get into the recruiting department. I could see myself as a scout. Traveling the country and getting paid to watch the game.”

“That still has to be tough. You worked so hard to get to the NFL. No Plan B, if I remember.”

“Yeah, well, things change. I realize we can’t always get what we want.”

From the look Lance gave me, I couldn’t help but think he wasn’t talking about football.

“What about you, Danny? Did you get what you wanted?”

Not everything I wanted. “I haven’t made it to Broadway yet, but I just signed on as the lead in a show off-Broadway.”

“Yeah? What show?”

“You’re looking at the infamous womanizer Charlie Chaplin, which I think is hilarious. But it’s a great opportunity, and I’ve had some experience being a tramp.”

I regretted the reference to Chaplin’s famous role
The Tramp
the minute it was out of my mouth. Before Lance I had been a tramp; if it felt good, then I did it. I had no regrets, but for some ungodly weird reason, I didn’t want him to know. Didn’t want him to view me as a slut, or worse, shallow. Lance’s face fell and he looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat.

“What about you? You have anyone special in your life?”

He didn’t look up, just stared at the now-empty bottle in his hands. “After you left, Morgan and I got back together.”

That didn’t surprise me. She would make the perfect football player’s trophy wife. I just nodded in response and smiled even though my stomach was in knots. “That’s good.”

“Nah. It was never a good decision. I mean, I cared about her, but you can’t build a relationship on settling for second best. I ended up resenting the hell out of her, and when it ended last year, it had gotten pretty ugly.”

“From what I’d heard, she was crazy about you. What’s to resent about that?”

Lance shot me a brief glance. “She wasn’t you,” he said softly and then returned his attention back to the bottle.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I was pretty messed up after you left.”

Lance wasn’t the only one who had been messed up. Hell, that first month after that last day with him had been a blur of pain and anger. It had gotten so bad that by the time I joined my parents in New York, I had no desire to return to Michigan. I had always wanted to attend CCNY but had gone with my second choice and stayed close to home. With my parents no longer living there, I had no reason to stay in Michigan and spent summer break transferring to NYC to continue my studies. I finally pulled my ass up out of that fucking misery and got on with my life, but Christ, it had been hard.

“I’m really sorry about running out on you like I did. I should have at least said good-bye.”

He held up a hand. “Don’t be. When you first left, I was so fucking mad at you. Hated you for what you had done. Blamed you for the attraction, the rumors, the embarrassment, the pain, frustration, all of it was your fault. I had to tell someone, and the only person I could tell was Katie. I poured my heart out to her, and I thought she would hate you too for what you did to me. And if she hated you, then you would lose Bo, and I figured it would serve you right.

“Only she didn’t. It took a lot of screaming and yelling but I finally figured out I’d been the idiot.” Lance shook his head and looked at me with a self-deprecating grin. “My sister is notorious for handing me my ass.”

That made me smile too, even though my chest was aching. “Yeah, I’ve seen her in action.”

“Anyway, she made me realize that I was the one to blame for my pain, that I had created it and had to own it. It was unfair for me to keep you in my life but never acknowledge to anyone that you were there. I get that now. But it took some time. At first, I honestly believed that I could go back to the way my life was before I met you.” He shrugged. “Well, I already told you how that turned out.” Lance tossed his bottle, hitting the garbage can on the other side of the room. “Sorry about laying that shit on you. You didn’t need to hear about my screwed-up life.” He laughed without mirth. “I hear yours is going well. You’ve been with that dancer for quite a while. Kyle, isn’t it?”

I did need to hear it, and I don’t know why—maybe I’m a sick bastard—but knowing he had been hurting as badly as I had been when it ended did in some kind of twisted way make me feel better. However, I didn’t think it would do either of us any good to add to his guilt by telling him how far I fell after I left. Yup, totally a sick bastard, since I was delighted that he’d also been keeping tabs on me and had known about Kyle.

“Yes, Kyle. He’s a dancer with a troupe based out of Chicago.”

“That has to be hard,” he murmured. “Maintaining a long-distance relationship. I know it was hard on Morgan.”

“It was. I had an opportunity to take a role in Chicago to be with him, but I belong in New York. Since neither of us was willing to give up our dream, we agreed to go our separate ways when I took the Chaplin role.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

I tilted my head and studied him. “Are you really?”

He held my gaze for long moments. He moved from his chair, going to his knees next to me, and took my hand in his. “No.”