Play Date (Play Makers Book 3) (12 page)

• • •

The gymnastic finals didn’t start until ten, and Rachel would have slept late if her phone hadn’t vibrated noisily at seven thirty. Immediately awake, she lunged for it, then mocked herself when it was a recorded reminder from her dentist about an upcoming appointment.

What did you think?
she asked herself as she sat on the edge of the bed, her heart still pounding.
You told him to get lost, remember? Nice job, teach.

But wouldn’t he have gotten lost anyway after the obligatory re-bang?

Luckily, she didn’t have time to mope. If she hurried, she could get a load or two of laundry washed and hung on the line in the backyard, starting with the Bannerman sheets. So she brewed some coffee and got moving, and by the time the phone rang again she was barely thinking about her NFL lover.

It was Lizzie’s parents offering her a ride, which she declined, knowing there was a reception after the event and she might not want to stay. She still had to pick up her dry cleaning—including the expensive dress from the wedding—and buy groceries, then scrub nine hundred square feet of terra-cotta tile and vacuum a hundred square feet of carpet in the master bedroom.

Or maybe she would skip the housework and head to the beach, as she so often did on Saturday. Wasn’t that the real reason she lived in San Diego? She never, ever took it for granted, and today in particular, would appreciate the warmth of the sun on her satiated body. The chance to feel blissfully alive. Mostly because of Bannerman, but Sean Decker deserved some credit too. He had been great in his own way, touching her with such ease and familiarity. To him, she wasn’t kryptonite, not even during those first few moments at brunch when it should have been awkward.

If Sean hadn’t invited you to the wedding, you would have missed out on so much,
she told herself as she toweled off from a quick shower, twisted her damp hair into a French braid, and dressed in jeans and a San Diego Padres T-shirt.
He’s a pain in the ass, but you still need to call him and apologize for yelling at him.

She knew she was on the right track. Either call Sean, or call Bannerman. It all depended on how brave she felt as the day wore on.

Invigorated by the new plan, she slipped her feet into a pair of white canvas tennies and headed for the college gymnasium where the event was being held.

• • •

Five hours later, she was hoarse from cheering for Lizzie, who swept every award in the competition. After an additional half hour at the reception, she headed home. Not to call Bannerman. Not to call Sean. But to plan her path to the next, more feasible lover in her life.

And if she ended up making that plan in bed alone, fantasizing about Bannerman’s
gladiatore
body and devilish smile, well—was that so wrong?

You’re going to hell, Ms. Gillette,
she assured herself as she parked her car in the driveway of her cottage. No point in garaging it, since she still had errands to run.

But the number-one errand? An imaginary re-bang.

Before she could exit the car, her phone vibrated and she felt a tingle of anticipation. It could be Bannerman, couldn’t it? Sure, she was boring, but he supplied enough excitement for both of them. And he had traveled all the way to San Diego once, so why not again?

Remembering she hadn’t unblocked his number, she laughed at herself.

Maybe it’s Sean, ready for another platonic date,
she told herself. This time, she’d be completely on board with that.

So she checked the screen, which read:
PRIVATE CALLER

Ordinarily, she didn’t answer such calls, but Bannerman could have borrowed someone else’s phone to bypass the block. So she answered with a careful, “Hello?”

“Is this Rachel?” a female voice demanded. “I’m
so
glad you answered! I’m Kerrie. Sean Decker’s girlfriend. I’ve been dying to talk to you.”

Rachel winced. Sean didn’t have actual girlfriends, did he? Just platonic Rachel, platonic Erica, and the girl behind the curtain. What if this was some groupie or stalker who just
thought
she was in a relationship with him?

So she said in a noncommittal tone, “Sean’s girlfriend?”

“It’s a secret, so that’s why he hasn’t mentioned me. Oh, and we didn’t really start dating until after the wedding, so it’s not like he was two-timing you. We knew each other before, but it wasn’t an official thing until this week.”

“Well, Kerrie,” Rachel said briskly, “I don’t actually know Sean Decker that well, so I’m probably the wrong person to talk to.”

“I
love
the way you do that. You’re so feisty, Rachel. Have lunch with me, please? I can’t talk to anyone else about him. Because it’s a secret, like I said. And because we don’t have any mutual friends except you.” She laughed as though aware she was babbling. “You’ve been my heroine ever since that phone call about Bam Bannerman.”

“Pardon?”

“He’s not bothering you anymore, is he? Sean made him promise to leave you alone. And they’re good friends, so I’m sure you’re off the hook. Even though you really shouldn’t have kissed him, because he’s a sex-a-holic.”

Rachel’s head was spinning. “You know about the phone call?”

“Sean had you on speaker. But he wouldn’t let me talk even though I wanted to cheer you on.”

Rachel’s patience snapped. “Are you telling me Sean Decker had me on
speaker
phone? And you were in the room?”

“I was in the bed,” she said with a proud giggle. “So I would have heard it anyway.” Her tone grew more serious. “I really need someone to talk to. Someone who cares about him. And you’re my only hope. He admires you, you know. Which makes
me
admire you. So please, please have lunch with me?”

Rachel took a moment to breathe out. Then in. Then out again. Then she said firmly, “I’m a schoolteacher, Kerrie. I don’t do lunch like other people.”

“What about weekends?”

“On weekends, I run errands. Which is what I should be doing right now.”

“Finish them today,” Kerrie urged her. “We’ll have lunch at the marina tomorrow. It’ll be fun. I’ll even send a car. And you’ll really be helping Sean out.”

The marina?

“Do you live here in San Diego, Kerrie?”

“I’m in Portland. But I have access to a private plane, so no biggie. Do you want to do brunch at ten? Or just meet at noon for lunch and a drink?”

Rachel didn’t want to do either, but her curiosity was piqued. And Kerrie seemed so sincere and needy. Sweet too, in a slightly deranged way, again raising the possibility of an NFL stalker.

Then a thought occurred to her. “Were you at the wedding?”

“Yes. If only we had met then, right? But it was so crowded.”

“What were you wearing?”

“Blech! I always dress conservatively for Lancers functions so I wore a prim little blue dress. Not like you. You really made a splash.” She giggled. “That’s a pun, right? Because Sean calls it your mermaid dress.”

Rachel seethed at Sean but had to admit this woman sounded legit. The kicker had clearly been smitten with the petite blonde—almost as smitten as he was with the bride—and twenty-four hours later had apparently been in bed with her. With Rachel on effing speaker phone.

Beth Spurling’s words rang in her ears:
You’ve failed me for the last time, Sean Decker.

Laughing at the silly memory—the drill sergeant’s apoplectic face, the kicker standing up to her even though he was visibly terrorized—she decided she had nothing to lose. So she agreed to lunch—no drinks—at noon. “Don’t send a car, though. I’ll drive myself.”

“Pleeeease take the limo? It’ll be so much fun. Two glamorous friends out on the town. I’m so sure this is the start of an amazing friendship, aren’t you?”

“Well, it’s something,” Rachel admitted.

“You’re so feisty! I can’t wait to meet in person. Just be ready at noon. I stole your address out of Sean’s phone when he wasn’t looking. Oh, that reminds me. Don’t tell him I called, okay?”

“Why not?”

Kerrie was silent for a moment. Then she said, “You’re right. Let’s talk about that tomorrow. But keep it secret until then. Pretty please?”

“I guess so.”

“Perfect! See you tomorrow.”

Rachel stared at the now-silent phone, completely confused. No one had ever called her feisty before, probably because she was the exact opposite. Cautious, analytical, and risk-averse. Except apparently this week. Partly due to Bannerman, partly due to her new “friend” Kerrie.

But when the dust settled, all aspects of this mess—the wild sex, the pregnancy scare, the lunatic lunch date—were Sean Decker’s fault, and she was going to give him a metric ton of grief over it if she ever saw him again.

• • •

The best thing about the upcoming lunch with Kerrie was that it stopped her from obsessing over Bannerman. Instead, she tried to imagine why the obviously wealthy woman and Sean were keeping their relationship secret. Was Kerrie seeing some other NFL hunk at the same time? Someone Sean respected? That had been the problem with his crush on Erica, hadn’t it? Even before the wedding, but also during and after.

What a freak.

Or maybe it was a political problem. Maybe Kerrie was the sister of some arch enemy. Someone like Wyatt Bourne—a.k.a. the Surgeon, a virtual rock star. Surely dating the opposing QB’s sister would be a sacrilege for a Lancer.

Or she’s someone’s ex-girlfriend. Someone important. A close friend or teammate. Or she’s a reporter! He’s giving her scoops in private. And since they were in bed, he’s giving her other juicy stuff too.

She entertained herself with scenarios as she scrubbed the kitchen tile, brought in the sheets from the line, and finished her vacuuming. Then she headed for the closet to survey her modest wardrobe.

Kerrie had said they would be two glamorous friends on the town. Except Rachel didn’t do glamour, and aside from the mermaid dress didn’t have anything that fit that description aside from a black suit she had purchased for a TV interview about the new kindergarten program. It was raw silk, perfectly tailored so that the jacket nipped in at the waist and the skirt flattered her ass without appearing overly tight—sophisticated yet also sexy.

All that for lunch with Sean’s girlfriend?

Jeans and a nice blouse would be fine. The important thing was to be rested, so she fixed herself a sandwich, stuck it in a bag, and made the short drive to the beach, where the day was cooling off under the low sun of late winter. She would relax on the sand, listen to country rock on her iPod, read a few pages of a crime novel on her e-reader, and fantasize about Vince Bannerman. The physical sensations were already fading, but she remembered every word he had said and knew she could re-capture arousal from those tantalizing tidbits alone.

“On a public beach?” she asked herself teasingly as she eased into a shady parking place near an ice cream vendor. “You’d better wait till you get home for
that,
teach.”

• • •

By the time the sleek Lincoln town car pulled up to Rachel’s curb at noon on Sunday, she was bizarrely nervous. But why? To talk about Sean Decker? The safest topic in town? They’d have sandwiches and iced tea, laugh about the mermaid dress, then go their separate ways.

Still, she had freaked out enough to change her outfit three times. Stone-washed jeans and a navy blouse, which looked pedestrian. The silk suit, which looked gorgeous but definitely trying too hard. And finally, her new black jeans, a collarless white blouse, long turquoise beads and hoop earrings, also turquoise. When the car appeared in the window, she slipped into medium-heeled black sandals, gave her loose hair a final brushing, and got to the front door at the same time as the chauffeur.

Luckily he was darling and not at all intimidating. He even looked a little like a future NFL player. College-aged, he was tall, dark and handsome. Well-built too, with dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair, and a great smile. They chatted as they walked to the curb and he admitted that yes, he played for San Diego State and wanted to play for the Chargers someday. When Rachel mentioned she was friends with Jason Spurling the poor kid almost hyperventilated.

She assured him Jason attended Aztec games as often as possible and had undoubtedly been impressed by him. It was fun reassuring the young guy, who introduced himself as Rafael. By the time he opened the rear passenger door for her, her own nerves were eased considerably.

She peeked inside, then grimaced. “I was expecting my hostess. Are we picking her up at the airport?”

“I took her to the restaurant already,” he explained, adding with a laugh, “I’m supposed to promise you she’s not an ax murderer.”

“Good to know.” Rachel scooted into the seat, amused and definitely reassured. Kerrie wouldn’t joke about that if she
were
an ax murderer, so apparently lunch was just lunch. Awkward perhaps, but then again, what wasn’t these days?

Her house was less than ten minutes from the marina, so she decided to relax and enjoy the drive. There was a full bar built into the side of vehicle, and she helped herself to a bottle of sparkling water and sipped it appreciatively.

In what seemed like an instant, they pulled up to the entrance of a new seafood restaurant with a huge deck overlooking the water. She had heard the food was good here.

She had also heard it was ridiculously expensive.

You just keep costing me and costing me, Sean Decker.

Rafael offered to walk her in, but she assured him she was fine. Then she tried to tip him, but thank God Kerrie had already taken care of that, so she just thanked him again. He reminded her he’d be waiting with the car and could take her home whenever she wished. “But don’t hurry. Two beautiful women on a beautiful day. Just relax and enjoy. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Yum,
she thought with a guilty smile. This was definitely her week when it came to hunky guys.

Bypassing the reception desk, she spotted Kerrie right away, mostly because Kerrie had spotted
her
and was waving madly. The diminutive blonde was in a booth tucked against the bar, not at a table on the deck, and from the giant martini glass in front of her, Rachel had a feeling she knew why.