Forward Pass. Desiree Holt
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Then he saw her today and bam! The vision slammed into him again. Even tired and cranky, with no makeup and dressed down in jeans and a sweatshirt, she made his body sit up and take notice. His cock was already sending him a message and his balls ached like crazy.
This was Shay. Hank’s baby sister. The skinny little kid who used to stick to them like gum to a shoe. She wore a big Keep Away sign.
As a teenager, having a little kid hero-worship him stroked his ego. It tickled him to have his best friend’s sister hang out with him and Hank and talk football, unless of course there were females around. Then he’d made sure to let her know she was a pain in the ass.
He cringed now as thoughts from the past bounced around in his brain, memories of the dismissive way he’d always treated her. There was no dismissing her now. This Shay was a luscious, desirable woman and the way his body responded to her froze every nerve with shock. If she were anyone else, he’d already be figuring out a way to get her out of her clothes and horizontal.
“I said you probably won’t be sleeping here much.”
Her barbed words cut deeply. To think Shay still saw him the same way.
He’d always thought of himself as a man who loved women. Who was lucky women loved him. He enjoyed the hell out of them. For a lot of years he’d been jazzed by the dating game. It was heady stuff to be envied by others for a steady string of gorgeous women and certainly fed his ego. All those years he’d never given a thought to how people saw him. He rocked it on the field and reaped the benefits of his success with the female population.
Still, it had stunned him to suddenly realize he was tired of the eternal conga line of women in and out of his life. What was once his juice had suddenly became old hat.
Things had changed so much in the past five years. He was in a much different place. As his life continued to evolve, so did the things he wanted from it. Like settling down. Getting married.
What he really needed was a woman like Shay.
Joe blinked and looked around, as if someone had actually spoken the words out loud. Where in hell did that thought come from? Again he reminded himself that she was off-limits to him. Right, right, right. Maybe he could tattoo it on his brain. Even thinking of her that way was off-limits. He needed to keep telling himself that.
Okay, time to get dressed and find someplace to eat. Maybe he’d pick up a pizza and bring it back. Or Chinese food. Then early to bed. And sleep, if he could do it with Shay only a few feet away from him.
He wondered what she’d say if she knew about the work he did with kids? With teenagers? Obviously her entire image of him was crafted from those wild years and the accompanying tabloid coverage. But so much had changed. He had changed. Did she ever watch his television show? If so, what did she think of it?
Fuck, Reilly. Enough. Get your head out of your ass. Once more, idiot. She’s Hank’s baby sister. It would be nice if she liked him but it wouldn’t kill him if she didn’t.
He hoped.
Heading toward the front door, he bumped into the woman in question coming out of the kitchen. In place of her travel outfit, she now wore a T-shirt and skimpy shorts and was carrying a glass of water. When they bumped, her hand jiggled, spilling drops from the glass on both of them.
“Crap.” She shook her hand to rid it of the moisture.
“I already showered,” he teased. “Remember? You saw me?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll say it.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry. And I’m clumsy. Shoot me.”
She hurried into the kitchen for a paper towel, bright red staining her cheeks. Joe swallowed a smile when she busied herself blotting his shirt, frowning as she did so.
“There.” She stepped back and studied his chest. “I think you’re good to go.” She crumpled up the paper towel. “Wherever you’re going.”
“Shay.” He cupped her elbows and kept his voice low and even. Steady. Why did he get the impression he spooked her? He’d have to think about that. “It’s okay. It’s just a shirt. And it’s washable. Got it?”
“Yes.” She still wouldn’t look at him. “I, um, think I’ll just go back into my room.”
Damn!
“Wait.” He didn’t want her to retreat, even though he knew he should just leave it alone. Especially since—shock!—just touching her made him so horny he was afraid his cock would strangle itself.
“I’m going to my room, Joe.” Why did she refuse to look at him?.
“Wait. I, um, was going to head out for some dinner. Want to join me?”
She looked down at her outfit and then raised her eyes to him, a tiny smile teasing her mouth. Finally. “Where are we dining? Goodwill?”
“You know what? I don’t think I’m in the mood for a restaurant. How about if I order a pizza delivered? You can choose the toppings,” he coaxed.
What the hell was he doing? He needed to put space between them until he figured out what was happening here. Preferably several city blocks.
“Why do you want to eat with me?”
Of course he didn’t have a sensible answer for her. He just knew it was important to get her to say yes.
“Um, because I’m hungry and you’re hungry so, food together?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “There’s a special on tonight about Joe Montana and I plan to watch it.” She waved her hand at the living room. “In there, on the big-screen television.”
He chuckled. “Really? Your big hero? The man you raved about incessantly when you were younger? Okay, I think I can handle that.” He winked. “Although we both know I’ve got him beat in all categories.”
“In ego, maybe.” She tilted her head and looked up at him again. “You sure you want to do this? Buy a pizza and share it with me?”
“Sure, kid. It will be like old times. Only without Hank. We’ll just eat his share.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Was that disappointment on her face, or was he just imagining it? What did it mean? Did she regret accepting his invite, or did she read something more into it? Well, regret just wouldn’t work. This pizza thing was just damn stupid if he wanted to put space between them. Where was his brain when he needed it to work?
“I’ll call it in,” she told him. “I have the number on speed dial.”
“You and Hank don’t do much cooking?”
“Hardly.” She fetched her smart phone from her room and punched in the number, snapping out her order. “Lots of pepperoni and mushrooms,” she warned Joe when she hung up.
“Yeah?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I would have thought with all those years in New York you’d want pineapple chunks and chicken.”
“Please,” she mocked. “Do I look like I’d eat designer pizza?”
He watched her refill the water glass and take a long drink from it. The play of muscles in her throat as she swallowed fascinated him, as did the shift of fabric over her breasts when she lifted her arm. He noted the outline of her nipples beneath the flimsy T-shirt, a sure sign whatever was scratching at him was doing the same to her. His palms itched to cup those mounds and he curled his fingers to keep from reaching out to her.
Again the devil in his head, the really horny one, reminded him this was Shay. Hank’s baby sister. He needed to keep repeating it to himself. What the fuck was wrong with him? Now here she was. In this house. With him. Alone. And his brain and his dick seemed to be getting different messages.
Shit!
“Hello?”