Play Date (Play Makers Book 3) (28 page)

“So I’m told. They’re keeping it small, thank heavens. So it won’t be a repeat of the McSpurling disaster.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “We’ll have fun. I’ve been wanting to show you off.”

“That’s sweet.” She took a sip of her champagne. “I don’t know Jake very well, but he seems like a great guy.”

“Yeah. They’re good together. Like you and me.” When she didn’t respond, he insisted, “I was just kidding.”

She tried to smile, failed, and just glared at him. “I shouldn’t have tried having a serious conversation with you. Especially today.”

“Come on, teach. Don’t be mad.” He flashed a charming smile. “I can have a serious conversation. What should we talk about? Politics? Religion? The weather?”

Her temper snapped. “Politics? Like which congresswoman you’d most like to bang? Or religion, as in, did Saint Peter bang Mary Magdalene?” She tossed her hair dismissively. “I’m not sure about the weather, except I know you like it hot and wet.”

He stared for a full five seconds, then insisted reverently, “That was awesome.”

“Yes, I know.” She stood up and grabbed her purse. “I need to use the restroom before the lobster gets here.”

He stood too, then said playfully, “Leave your wallet and phone.”

“Pardon?”

“You look like you’re gonna ditch me.” He touched her face. “It was a joke, teach. I’ll take you to Dub’s wedding. No problem.”

She almost felt guilty, and told him quietly, “It’s fine. I just need a couple of minutes to freshen up.”

He eyed her as though ready to argue, then just nodded and held out his hand. “Wallet and phone.”

“Oh, my God, you’re so obnoxious,” she muttered, digging in her purse and slamming the requested items into his huge palm before striding off toward the powder room.

You’re such an idiot, Rachel,
she told herself when she was alone in front of the mirror.

Had she honestly mistaken this for a romantic tryst? He had a
room
waiting for them. And in four hours, he’d fly off to a bachelor party where God only knew what would happen.

Worse, he had been honest with her about all of it. And about the fact that he didn’t do romance. He teased, he joked, he banged. And that bridesmaids-at-a-wedding crack? She could almost swear he had told her that one before, sometime during their first or second Friday, and she had laughed it off.

Because that was their deal.
He
teased,
she
fell for it. They didn’t make plans, especially for weddings. Much less a wedding that was seven weeks away. A lifetime for a relationship like this one. She was lucky he hadn’t panicked at being hog-tied. Instead, he had humored her, trying to lighten the mood.

Talking her off the ledge she had climbed out onto.

So give him a break.

Not that she had a choice, since she didn’t have her wallet. A rueful laugh bubbled up inside her, and while a remnant of humiliation hung around, it wasn’t because the poor guy didn’t want to take her to a wedding.

It was because she had been foolish enough to ask him to.

• • •

When she returned to the table, he stood and held her chair again, murmuring in her ear, “Sorry, teach.”

“Don’t be silly.” She waited for him to sit, then held up her champagne glass, which had magically been refilled. “To you and me. And the lobster. How did you know it was my favorite?”

He raised his own glass. “To Dub and Sophie, and all the fun we’re gonna have when I take you to their wedding.”

“Vince . . .”

“You’re not going with Deck,” he assured her. “But we should talk about how it’ll work, right? You didn’t want the drill sergeant knowing about us. Now she will.
Everybody
will.”

“I didn’t think it through,” she agreed. “And you’re right, I don’t want Beth to find out. It would be awkward with Sean too.” Struggling for a way to make things right, she suggested carefully, “You said he might have a new girlfriend. He should bring
her,
not me. How’s that going, anyway? Has he opened up to you about it?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “What are you doing, Rachel?”

“I guess I’m trying to apologize,” she said, trying for a sincere smile but ending with a rueful one. “It’s been such a great week, thanks to you. Leave it to me to ruin it.” She raised a palm to stop him from speaking. “You said this is your favorite holiday. But for me, it’s always the worst. I keep waiting for someone to prank me. And since I never handle that well, I overreacted to your joke. So can’t we please just let it go? I want to enjoy the sunset with you. Enjoy the lobster. And there’s one other thing I want.”

“Name it.”

She reached across to touch his jaw. “It sounds silly, but in my suite at the Ashton Hotel there was a huge sunken tub. Jetted, I think. But I rushed off so quickly that night, I never used it.” She forced herself to breathe, then continued. “Remember when I said I wanted to soak in a tub for a week? But the one at my house—well, you’ve seen it. So I’m hoping our room here has a really fantastic one, and you’ll take a bath with me.”

He nodded, visibly relaxing. “That sounds great.”

She chattered nonstop for the rest of the meal, describing how the children had reacted to the tale of his tree-removal exploits, which she had embellished a bit, calling it the tale of Sir Bannerman and the Evil Tree.

Then she gave more details about her adventures babysitting the hellhounds.

And while she could hear the frantic pitch to her voice, she didn’t care. She just needed to talk them through this. To make up for her gaffe.

When the dessert menu arrived, she told him hopefully, “Can’t we have naked cheesecake in our room?”

“Sure.” He signed for the meal, stuffed a wad of bills into the server’s palm, then pulled her to her feet and into a scorching hot kiss. She went wild too, desperate to get back to normal, or what passed for normal with him and her.

In her mind, they were already in bed, devouring each other under fancy hotel linens, making up for lost time. But he had other ideas, and when the kiss ended, he gestured toward the long, deserted beach and suggested in a hoarse voice, “Let’s take a walk.”

• • •

Her first thought was that he was going to dump her. He’d do it gently, of course. That was preordained. And she deserved it after tonight.

And really, it had to end sometime, didn’t it? Still, panic tightened her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Because she wasn’t ready, and if she didn’t find a way to settle down fast, she would end up begging him to stay with her for a few more weeks.

Have some pride, teach,
she mocked herself as she slipped out of her butter shoes and stuffed them in her purse. The sand felt good on her feet, and she used that familiar sensation to calm down. For almost every crisis in her lifetime, she had found comfort on a sandy beach. Losing her mom. Being abandoned by her dad. Getting her heart broken—not by a particular guy, but by
all
of them, time after time.

They walked side by side, and he took such care with her—slipping an arm around her shoulders when a breeze came up, commenting on the awesome colors of the setting sun—she finally realized this wasn’t the end.

It was wonderful, actually, but the clock was ticking. He needed to get on a plane in a few hours. Unless he decided to skip the bachelor party because of her bruised ego.

She would never forgive herself for that.

When he spread his jacket on the sand and asked her to sit down, she curled her arms around his neck. “I have a better idea. Let’s take that bath.”

“Are you going to Dub’s wedding with me?”

She stared in dismay. “We don’t need to decide now. It’s weeks and weeks away.”

“It’ll give me a chance to show you off. They’ll all be pissed, but who cares?”

She recognized the determined look on his face. Like he wanted to yank a tree out by its roots. Or convince a reticent teacher to try doggie-style. He wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer. Which was awkward, since she had no intention of saying “yes.”

She honestly didn’t know what to say, so she just held his amazing face in her hands and said the only word she could think of. “You.”

To her surprise, he seemed to like the familiar ritual. “Tell me what that means.”

“I told you. It means I love your face.”

“Yeah, I love your face too,” he said huskily, kissing her, then pulling her down to the sand to do it even more thoroughly, his body dominating hers, fierce but gentle. His tongue probing, his hands everywhere.

“Vince,” she gasped, loving the way harmony had been restored.

He raised himself on one elbow and looked down at her, his eyes warm. “I told you, I’m not good at this romantic stuff.”

“Actually, you’re amazing at it. Lobster, champagne, candlelight? I loved it.”

“You’re special to me. You know that, don’t you? Not just the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, even though that’s true. But it’s more than that. You’re the best. The best I ever had.”

Speechless, she just stared up at him, her heart pounding. She wanted to make love there in full view of the restaurant. Or beg him to take her to the room for their bubble bath. Or just stay like this forever.

The best he ever had.

Whatever else happened now—whatever other “hotties” he spent time with when he wasn’t with her—she would savor this memory.

“I want to make love with you, Vince,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Yeah, I want that too,” he admitted. “Are you going to the wedding with me?”

“Yes,” she assured him, her own voice now husky.

“Man,” he complained with a sly smile, “you’re like a vault. You know that?”

“The best vault you ever had,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, you’re a helluva vault.” He stood and dragged her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go take that bath.”

• • •

It was nearly eleven when he walked her to her own front door and asked warily, “Should I stay for a while?”

She laughed, exhausted but still amorous. “You can’t miss a teammate’s bachelor party. What time did it start?”

“Around ten. But it won’t take off till midnight. This guy’s an animal. Even more than me
.
”

“You don’t want to miss the strippers,” she reminded him. “And I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Strippers? I just saw
you
covered in bubbles. They can’t top
that.”

The sparkle in his eyes confirmed he was holding on to that mental image, making her feel truly special.

The best he had ever had.

“It was a perfect night,” she said, trying to sound casual. “A perfect day, too. Starting with the tree.”

“I’ll plant it on Saturday. Unless you want me to stay. Then I can do it tomorrow.”

“I want you to party with your friends. But come back on Friday and party with me.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He took her key and opened the door, then kissed her one last time and headed back to his sleek black rental car.

She was floating on air as she locked the door behind herself and kicked off her shoes. Who knew she needed so much flattery? The most beautiful girl he had ever had? The
best
he had ever had?

She refused to dissect that latter compliment. Didn’t really need to, actually, since the meaning was clear. Only Vince Bannerman would romance a woman by telling her she was the best he had ever banged.

And while a cynical mind might remember exactly how she had distinguished herself—condom-wise—she honestly didn’t care. He was the best by far for her too, wasn’t he? And sex had a lot to do with that as well.

Dropping her iPod into her audio system, she scrolled past Dolly Parton, her usual go-to for Vince Bannerman theme songs, instinctively choosing “Love Is a Rose”—the Linda Ronstadt version.

She sang along, knowing it was right. She was in love with him, at least in a sense. The very kind of love Linda had been warning her about for years. The kind you would lose if you tried to own it. It could only grow in the wild. No clinging, no regrets.

Someday she’d find a different, more permanent kind of love with a different, less thorny kind of guy.

But hopefully not
too
different. And in the meantime, she would make the most of whatever this crazy mess was.

• • •

Sean’s head had started pounding the moment he woke up the morning—or actually, the afternoon—after the bachelor party. He had had
way
too much to drink, thanks to Bannerman’s late arrival, which had prompted a complete reboot of the festivities. Of course, the enthusiastic halfback had also instigated another round of fun with the strippers, so it was tough to complain.

If only Sean’s head would stop hurting. And if only he could stop thinking about Kerrie. And Rachel Gillette. And his abysmal love life in general.

Of all his regrets, he wished most that he had seduced Rachel when he’d had the chance. She was everything a guy could want—smart, sexy, gorgeous and single.
Especially
single. She loved children. She had understandable values and was preapproved by Beth Spurling. Which was huge.

And she wasn’t married to his coach.

He had had a clear shot, hadn’t he? Not that she had been drooling over him, but they had experienced a nice healthy connection. They could have built on that.

Maybe they still could if things didn’t get better—
soon
—with Kerrie. He would give up on romantic love and dedicate himself to making Rachel happy. His income was phenomenal, for one thing. And he respected the living hell out of her. She had the keys to the kingdom when it came to John and Erica, and she would be loving and faithful. And beautiful beyond belief.

Had he honestly kept her at arm’s length?

One thing was certain: he needed a plan. A simple one. He was crazy about Kerrie, at least for the moment, so he’d give
her
one last chance. Urge her to divorce Coz, fade away for a few months, then reemerge as Sean’s girlfriend. It would be awkward, sure. But most of his friends would be happy for him. Erica would rally. So would Bam.