Pass Interference (3 page)

In the intervening years, each time they’d run into each other, the air fairly shimmered around them with sexual electricity. He knew she’d be willing. The signals were very easy to read, but there was too much holding him back, such as his career and her reputation. She was such a contradiction, that girl. Woman. Not girl. Defensive, go to hell, fuck the world, yet whenever he was with her, he saw the vulnerability beneath the facade.

If there was one woman he didn’t need to hook up with, she was that person. Yet here he was, on his way to clean up whatever her latest mess was. And then what?

Yeah, then what, idiot?

Thankfully, there wasn’t all that much traffic on the streets at this time of night. Still it took some time to get from the north end of San Antonio to a bar on the south side. Miraculously, he found a space across the street and jogged over to the Tequila Sunrise. The moment he opened the door, he knew there was trouble. Almost everyone in the place was crowded toward the little back hallway, and he heard men shouting at each other.

“Damn it, Dewey.” A man with a nasal voice was speaking. “I said get the fuck away from there.”

“Not until I get that bitch out of there.” And that, no doubt, was the cause of the trouble Tyler was in.

“Excuse me.”

Swallowing a sigh, Rafe pushed his way through the crowd. No one wanted to give up their spot watching the action, so it took a few elbow digs and a look that said, “Get the fuck out of my way.” But then he was in the short hallway. Two men filled up the space between the door to the ladies’ room and the wall, both of them large and beefy. One of them was still banging on the door, even as the other tried to pull him away.

“Come on, Dewey. Don’t make me get my baseball bat out.”

Rafe guessed it was the bartender speaking.

“I’m not leaving till I get my hands on this bitch,” the other man shouted in a nasty, drunken voice.

“Did you call the cops?” Rafe asked the bartender.

The man’s face reddened. “I try to keep the cops out of things whenever possible.”

“Even if someone is in danger?”

“Aw.” The man scratched his head. “She wasn’t in any real danger. I could conk Dewey over the head and put us all out of our misery.”

“Next time remember that,” Rafe warned. He turned to the man still banging on the door and shouting. “My turn now.”

The bartender looked at the former defensive lineman for San Antonio, saw the expression on Rafe’s face, and backed away. Dewey wasn’t quite that smart. He ignored the fact that while he and Rafe were about the same size, Dewey’s flab would be no match for Rafe’s still-solid muscle. He took a step backward and put up his fists.

Rafe sighed again. He really didn’t want to have to do this, but the asshole wasn’t leaving him any choice. He reached out and grabbed the man by the throat with his powerful fingers, pressing his thumb into the hollow and pushing him away from the door. When Dewey still tried to fight back, Rafe just coldcocked him, and the guy dropped to the floor in a big messy heap.

“Thank you,” the bartender said. “Dewey just gets a little feisty sometimes when he’s had a drop too much to drink.”

“Seems like you should have cut him off before he got too—what did you say?—feisty.” He knocked softly on the restroom door. “Tyler? It’s me.”

“Rafe?”

“Yeah. In the flesh.”

There was a long moment of silence and then the door eased open a crack. Tyler peered out, fear in her eyes before relief washed over her face when she saw it really was him.

“You can come out now.”

Tyler opened the door wider. When he got a good look at her, he swallowed back a bitter taste. Everything was a mess—hair, makeup, dress. How in hell did she do this to herself? And why?

He reached for her hand and tugged her out into the hallway. Despite the fact she had a rep for being a gigantic pain in the ass, despite the present circumstances, the moment their hands connected electricity arced between them. There it was, that invisible crackle that had never waned and still sizzled his nerve endings. More like his brain.

No. She was off-limits and a disaster to boot. He had to keep telling himself that. Keep dragging his eyes away from the swell of her breasts visible over the cut of her dress, away from the sweet curve of her ass so lovingly outlined by the fabric. Even with her tawny hair mussed and tumbled around her face and her makeup streaked, there was something so—

So what, asshole? She asked you here to get her out of trouble, not to act out your fantasies.

He could do this. He was famous for his incredible control in all situations. He just needed to keep it in place for this one. Holding tightly to her hand, he towed her through the crowd of onlookers, concentrating on getting out of danger rather than getting into her pants.

“Come on. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

Rafe was tense, alert, prepared for anything as they headed toward the exit. Situations like this could go sideways in a minute. However, apparently not looking for the same treatment he’d given Dewey, people moved out of their way to let them go. Still, he held his breath as he guided Tyler through the tiny side parking lot and across the street to his car. He made sure she was belted in before he cranked the engine and pulled out into the street.

They drove in silence for a long time, tension humming in the car like low-level electricity. Not touching her would be a real test of his self-discipline. He wanted to ask her what the hell she’d been doing in a place like Tequila Sunrise, but he really didn’t have to. He’d heard all the rumors, read all the stories. He knew this was one of many dives where she hung out. It puzzled him why a woman who had absolutely everything she could ask for lowered herself like this, but it was none of his business and he didn’t want it to be. He didn’t want to know anything, just to deliver her to her doorstep and get the hell away from her.

He shot a quick glance at her huddled in the seat. At last she spoke up, in a very small, tired voice, a trace of fear still clinging to it. “Thank you. I’m sorry I had to bother you.”

“I’m sorry you did, too. You should know better than to put yourself in that kind of situation. What the hell were you thinking, anyway?”

“Nothing,” she snapped, obviously irritated by his response. “Thinking can get you into trouble.”

“And exactly what do you suppose tonight was?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw her glance over at him. “So I guess the price of my rescue is a lecture?”

“No lecture. Just a word of warning.” He glanced over at her to see if she was paying attention. Only the tightly curled hands fisted in her lap gave her away. “You live a very destructive lifestyle, Tyler. One of the
se days you’ll get yourself in a situation that no one will be able to get you out of.”

“Then everyone’s problems will be over, right?” she snapped. “Yours, mine, and especially the holy king Kurt Gillette.”

He had no idea what was going on between Tyler and her father nor did he want to find out. Everyone on the team speculated, but if anyone had any answers, they were keeping quiet about them. It was none of his business, and he intended to keep it that way, for his own sanity.

As they rode through the silent streets he noticed that she kept tugging on the hem of her dress, seemingly uncomfortable in her outfit. If she was so uncomfortable in it why did she wear it? Why dress like that? Did she really want to attract men like Dewey? What was really going on with her, beneath the image she showed the world?

Silence descended and filled the car until at last he pulled into the driveway of her town house. Before she could move, he was out of the car, around the other side and had her door open. He extended a hand to help her out and guided her to the front door with a hand at the small of her back.

On the little porch, she turned to him. “Thank you again for answering my call and coming to pick me up, Rafe. I know I had no right to ask you, but you can’t imagine how much I appreciate it.”

“Next time pick your entertainment in a safer place,” he cautioned. He studied her face. “Just out of curiosity, why did you call me, of all people? We can barely stand each other.”

Hurt flashed so quickly in her eyes he wasn’t even sure he had seen it.

“Maybe you’re the only one I know who could have gotten me out of there.” She flicked her fingers against his chest. “Don’t worry. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Fine. Good night, Tyler. Stay out of trouble if you can.”

Before he could turn away, she launched herself at him, reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck as she plastered her body to his. He reacted automatically, holding her against him, inhaling the tantalizing scent of her perfume. She was warm and pliant and his body reacted before his mind caught up. Before he realized it she had him in a lip-lock, her tongue halfway down his throat. It took him a moment to recover himself, but when he did, when he realized what he was doing, he lifted her gently but forcefully away from him.

“You don’t want to do that, Tyler. You’re drunk and tomorrow you’ll regret it and be embarrassed.”

She looked up at him, something like pain glittering in her eyes. “And what if I don’t regret it? What if I’m serious?” Her lips curved in a sloppy semblance of a come-hither smile. “I could give you a very good thank-you, Rafe Ortiz. Very good. It’s what I do best.”

He sighed. He seemed to be doing a lot of that tonight. “Go inside, Tyler. Go to sleep. You’ll feel differently in the morning.”

He took her keys from her hand, unlocked her door, and eased her inside. Dropping the keys on a little table in the foyer, he gave her one last searching look before he closed the door and headed back to his car. He didn’t fire the engine right away. Instead, he sat back in his seat, eyes closed. He could still feel the softness of her round breasts pressed to his chest, the hard tips of her nipples poking into him. He was sure she hadn’t been able to miss his swollen dick imprinting itself on her mound. That damned dress was just too thin.

He ran his fingers over his lips where the taste of her still lingered, her own sweetness mingled with the flavor of whatever she had been drinking. The combination should have been a turnoff, but instead it gave his hormones a mega jump-start. And her tongue. God, when she’d thrust it into his mouth all he’d wanted was to suck hard on it and wrap his own around it. He silently cursed the unwanted boner pushing at his fly.

Tyler Gillette was a hot mess, a disaster waiting to happen. He wondered how a man like Kurt Gillette had let his daughter get so out of control and why he didn’t figure a way to rein her in. Yeah, that “trouble” tattoo seemed like a good idea.

He was allergic to women like her, especially when the woman was Kurt Gillette’s daughter. The man would eviscerate him if he stepped out of line with her. That alone was enough to throw cold water on his feelings.

He was so preoccupied with his body and Tyler’s effect on it that he barely noticed the dark sedan that followed him through the quiet residential streets and out to the interstate.

The first thing Tyler noticed when she opened her eyes the next morning was how difficult the process was. Crap! That meant she’d fallen into bed with her makeup still on and her mascara was bonding her eyelashes together. The next thing she noticed was the headache pounding in her skull, a reminder of how quickly alcohol had an adverse effect on her these days. And finally, her lips curving in a tiny smile, she recalled that hot kiss with Rafe Ortiz.

Rafe! How many years now had she dreamed of getting him into bed for just one night of incendiary, soul-searing, no-holds-barred sex? It seemed as if that feeling had hovered at the edge of her awareness ever since he joined the team as a rookie at twenty-two. She’d crushed on him big time. Huge! She’d been just a college freshman then with a bad case of hero worship.

Of course, her father had laid down the only rule he’d ever been inflexible on: stay away from the players. She could have defied him out of meanness, but despite her feelings for Rafe, she hated the team enough not to go head-to-head with Kurt. She wanted nothing to do with any part of the operation, not the players, not anything else. Even as the years passed and Rafe morphed into a man so masculine, so sexy, he made every woman’s mouth water and her panties get wet, she’d forced herself to ignore him. He was connected with the team and her father, a man she believed had ruined her life, so that meant Rafe was definitely off her to-do list. Her father hadn’t had to forbid her to date the players. They held about as much attraction for her as a bad case of the flu.

All except Rafe.

Why had she never been able to kill her desire for him, or the longing that persisted to this day? Somehow, even as she had an excess of wild flings with men whose names she couldn’t even remember, even as she nearly ruined her life with a very bad—and thankfully brief—marriage, when she closed her eyes at night it was Rafe Ortiz’s face she always saw.

Well, damn. Just damn.

He was off-limits. She shouldn’t have kissed him last night.

Yeah, well, there were a lot of things she shouldn’t have done in the course of her very rocky thirty-two years. The list had grown to be endless.

Your choice, Tyler. Can the pity party.

She pushed herself out of bed, dragged her fingers through the wild tangle of her hair, and made her way to the bathroom. She chanced a look in the mirror over her vanity, and for the second time since she’d started the wild, crazy ride that was her life, she didn’t like what she saw. Didn’t like? Make that disgusted. Who was that cheap-looking person staring back at her? The one who ended up in that ugly situation with Dewey. She wanted to throw up. What had she done to herself on this vindictive road? The whole thing had certainly not done her any good. Her relationship with Kurt Gillette wasn’t one bit better. Maybe worse, even. Poking the bear had only made him turn away from her even more.

What did she do with her life besides shop, spend time with her two best friends and hang out in bars? Talk about a waste case. At the rate she was going even her friends might wash their hands of her before too long. She couldn’t get rid of the memory of drunken Dewey trying to break down the door of the ladies’ room and her cowering inside, frantically trying to figure out who to call for rescue.