Skin in the Game (17 page)

“All taken care of?” Cade asked when she came back into the bedroom.

She’d half hoped he might have fallen back asleep while she was gone, because she really didn’t want to talk any more about her lack of a sex life. Compared to Cade, she felt gauche and inexperienced, as if she’d been transported by time machine back to the ninth grade, and she wasn’t at all sure he wasn’t starting to feel the same way. Like maybe she’d read too much into the fact that they were spending the weekend together and he thought she was expecting a marriage proposal to be right around the corner.

Nodding, she crawled back into the bed. While she’d been in the living room, she’d buttoned up her blouse and found her panties, which she’d put back on.

He raised an eyebrow. “Unusual choice in pajamas.”

Unable to think of a smart retort, she shrugged. “Just making do with what I have.”

“We’ll stop by your place tomorrow and pick up something else for you to wear. In the meantime,” he said, cupping her cheek in his palm, “I’d really prefer it if you weren’t wearing anything.”

“I don’t—” Angie began, but it was already too late to object that it was the middle of the night and surely he couldn’t want to have sex again, because he was kissing her and unbuttoning her blouse at the same time, and there was absolutely no doubt whatsoever that he did want to have sex again.

And unbelievably, so did she. Her nipples came to instant attention, and her panties grew damp as he slid his hand down her torso to her abdomen. She gasped as his fingers found the waistband of her panties and then pulled them down to her thighs.

He broke the kiss, shifting their bodies so they lay on their sides, facing each other. His eyes were dark and heavy-lidded. “The whole time you were in there talking on the phone, all I could think about was getting you back in here and fucking your brains out. And then you come in here all dressed and prim. I’m feeling downright barbaric.”

Her clit pulsed with need at his coarse language. She wriggled her hips. “I’m feeling a little barbaric myself.”

“Good,” he said, grinning. “Take off the panties then, Barbarella.”

She giggled at the reference as she lifted her legs and slipped the underwear down over her knees, then kicked them off the end of the bed.

“Better. Now, let’s try this…roll over onto your stomach.”

Her breath hitched as she wondered what he had in mind, but she did as he asked. He straddled her legs at the knees and then began massaging his way down her back to her butt and thighs. She closed her eyes and moaned as he turned her into warm butter. By the time his fingers delved between her cheeks and the swollen flesh between her legs, she was too relaxed and too aroused to object to anything he might do. In fact, she lifted her hips and spread her legs to assist him.

He made her come once, almost right away, his thumb pressing her rhythmically as his fingers moved inside her. She was still weak and panting when he leaned over and grabbed a condom packet from the bedside table. After rolling it on, he grasped her waist, angled her hips slightly upward, and buried his cock inside her. Muffling a moan into the pillow, she arched her back, deepening their connection. He groaned and kissed the sensitive spot beneath her ear.

“Make yourself come again,” he ordered, grabbing her hand, which was resting beside her head, and guiding it down between her legs.

Her face flamed. Could she do that? But as he pressed his fingers over hers, showing her what he wanted her to do, she found she not only could do that, she liked it. He moved his hand away, sliding them up to cup her breasts and tease her nipples while he fucked her with slow, deep strokes that seemed to reach all the way up to her heart.

When she came again, he turned her head to capture her mouth in a kiss and came right along with her.

Afterward, as they pulled apart and settled back beneath the sheet again, spoon-fashion, he muttered, “You can get clothes tomorrow. But you won’t be needing pajamas.”

This time, it was Cade’s cell phone that was ringing. Or playing Pink Floyd, as the case might be.

Even groggier than he’d been at three a.m., he rolled over and found his cell, grimacing as he noted the time. Six thirty. On a Saturday morning. Was Stu insane?

He glanced at Angie and smiled. Still sound asleep. He’d worn her clean out.

Clicking the talk button, he put the receiver to his ear. “This better be good,” he said, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“It is!” Stu was plainly both wide awake—although Cade was pretty sure his agent normally didn’t rise much before noon—and very excited. “The Jets want to see you today. They heard the Vikings are in talks with the Texans for you and they want a shot. Meadowlands, three o’clock this afternoon. I’ve got a seat for you on the nine thirty flight out of Minneapolis up on the computer screen right now. You’ll hit the tarmac at one thirty in Newark, which should give you just enough time to get to—”

“Wait just a goddamn minute,” Cade interrupted. “I didn’t even know the Vikings were still interested.” It had been almost three weeks since his audition. He’d assumed that deal wasn’t going to happen.

“I didn’t want to mention it because your GM is driving a hard bargain. He wants more in the trade for you than the Vikes really want to give.”

Cade rubbed his eyes, trying to get his head around what his agent was telling him. It was too damn early in the morning for this much information. “And the Jets want to see me today?”

“Isn’t it great? It’s the break you’ve been waiting for. They’re ready to can Maddox, and they want you for the job. For good.”

Cade allowed himself a full second of exhilaration before he let skepticism take over.

“Me and who else?”

“No one. They swore to me it’s you unless you reject their offer.”

Angie shifted and stirred beside him. His heart skipped a beat as the sheet slipped to her waist, baring one gorgeous pink-tipped breast. He couldn’t just up and go to New York at the drop of a hat. Not today. Not when he’d finally gotten Angie back in his bed where she belonged.

But damn, it was New York. The Big Apple. There was no bigger gig than quarterback of the Jets, unless it was quarterback of the Giants, but Eli Manning had beat him to that job. Cade couldn’t afford to let this opportunity slip away.

Stu cleared his throat in the silence. “You’re not going to say no, are you? Please tell me you haven’t decided you’d rather coach high school football than play in the NFL.”

Quarterback of the Jets was the position of Cade’s dreams. Not just because he’d be the starter, but because he loved New York. On his first trip for the Heisman ceremony, he’d been dazzled by the city—by its lights, its grandeur, its energy. Since then, he’d become a regular visitor, spending time in the city both when he played against the Jets or the Giants and during the off-season for photo shoots and guest appearances on talk shows and sports programs that shot there. If the offer was right—and there was no reason to believe it wouldn’t be—he was definitely not going to say no.

He looked at Angie again. “Make it two seats,” he said, “and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

###

“I can’t just go to New York at the drop of a hat!” Angie protested, her hair framing her face like a fuzzy golden halo.

She looked so adorably frazzled that it was all Cade could do not to push her back to the bed and make love to her again. But they didn’t have time for that now. Later, though…

“Why not? You promised to spend the weekend with me. What difference does it make if we spend it here or in New York? I’ll have you back home in plenty of time for school on Monday morning.”

Angie scrubbed her hands over her face. “I don’t know. I just… You said the flight is at nine thirty. We’ll have to leave straight for the airport to make it in time. I don’t even have time to go home and change my clothes, let alone pack.”

Cade grinned. If that was her only objection, he’d already won the argument. “They have stores in New York, you know.”

“I’m sure they do,” she retorted, a little testy, “but I doubt I can afford them.”

“I can,” he said smoothly.

She shook her head. “I can’t let you buy me new clothes…not to mention a plane ticket and food and everything.”

Ah, now they were getting to the heart of her objection. “Angie, I’m asking you to come with me because I want to spend time with you, not because I’m on some weird campaign to make you feel like you owe me something. And it’s perfectly fine with me if we spend the entire weekend in the hotel room naked—which is pretty much what we’d be doing if we stayed here—but I’d rather you got the chance to see a little bit of the city while you’re there. Plus, I’d like to take you out to an amazing dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. But if my buying you a couple of outfits to do that is make-or-break, then…”

“I’m not poor,” she said flatly.

“I didn’t say you were,” Cade pointed out. “You were the one who said you couldn’t afford the stores in New York.”

She grimaced. “It all… It seems so sudden.”

“It is sudden,” he agreed. “But it’ll be fun. And you did promise. If you go back on it now, I might reconsider making you my boss.”

“You wouldn’t!”

No, he wouldn’t, and she knew it. But he won the argument anyway.

***

They arrived at the airport with enough time to spare for Angie to buy a clean outfit to wear on the flight. Unfortunately, however, the one boutique on the way to their gate that carried women’s clothing wasn’t open for business yet. She was ready to pass right by, but Cade saw movement inside the store and tapped on the window. The salesgirl took one look at him and unlocked the door, a huge grin plastered on her face.

When Cade explained what they needed, the young woman ushered them inside and made short work of finding several items in Angie’s size. After trying them on, she settled on a pair of black slacks that seemed unlikely to wrinkle and a lightweight sweater in turquoise blue with a scooped neckline. Cade whistled when she exited the dressing room, then insisted on buying a pair of ankle-high black boots to complete the ensemble, saying with a laugh that even he knew black trousers and white sneakers didn’t go together.

Angie managed not to gasp in frugal Minnesotan horror when the total purchase price appeared on the cash register, but only barely. She consoled herself, however, with the fact that the shopkeeper had given Cade a fifteen percent discount in exchange for his autograph. It could have been even worse.

When they arrived at the gate, the flight attendant intercepted them.

“Mr. Reynolds and Ms. Peterson?” she asked. When they nodded, she said in a scolding tone, “Well, you’re late. We were about to close the gate.” She scanned their tickets, and then hurried them down the jetway.

As Angie ducked her head to enter the plane and started down the aisle toward the back of the plane, the flight attendant stopped her, gesturing toward two empty seats in first class.

“These are yours, Ms. Peterson.”

“Oh.” Of course Cade wouldn’t fly coach. For one thing, he’d probably be cut off at the knees by the seat in front of him. For another, he could certainly afford better.

But two first-class tickets at the last minute? The price must have been exorbitant, even by Cade’s standards. Angie felt queasy as she buckled in. She was thrifty by nature, and this whole endeavor was becoming more extravagant by the second. Whether it was within Cade’s means or not was irrelevant; it wasn’t within hers, and that made her uncomfortable.

Cade’s warm hand covered hers. “Afraid of flying?” he asked softly.

She shook her head.

“Then what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.” Her neuroses weren’t his fault. Besides, this was just another reminder of how badly they’d fit together for anything more than a brief fling. If she couldn’t get through a weekend trip to New York without cringing over every penny he spent on her, how on earth would she get through a marriage?

Not that marriage was even remotely on the table, of course. She shouldn’t even let that word cross her mind, at least not in relation to Cade.

He let out an exasperated sigh as the plane pushed back. “If there’s one thing I know about women, it’s that nothing is definitely something.”

“Trust me, it’s not important.”

“All the more reason to tell me, then.”

Angie pressed her lips together. “I’ve just never flown first class before. It seems so—”

She broke off, embarrassed.

“Comfortable? Roomy? Pleasant?” he supplied.

“Expensive,” she whispered.

He wrapped his fingers around her hand and brought her palm to his lips. “Angie, I made five million dollars last season, thanks to my signing bonus and my endorsement contracts. A couple of first-class plane tickets aren’t even close to expensive. If I’d wanted to go all out, I could have chartered a private jet for this trip. In fact,” he added with a heated glance down the scooped neckline of her new sweater, “I wish I had. We could have made much better use of the next two hours. What was I thinking, flying commercial?”

Angie jerked her hand away from his with an embarrassed laugh. “Keep your voice down. People will hear you.”

Cade glanced around at the well-dressed, middle-age men and women seated in the remaining rows of the first-class section. Most of them had their noses buried in the Wall Street Journal or Fortune magazine. “I don’t think any of them are the slightest bit interested in how much money I made last year.”

She punched his shoulder lightly. “That’s not what I was worried about them overhearing!”

“Ow,” he said in mock protest. “That’s my bad shoulder, you know.”

“If you can’t take a little punch from me, what’s going to happen the first time you get hit by a linebacker? I’m just trying to toughen you up.”

“And I’m trying to toughen you up.” He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips.

“You’re so used to worrying about what other people think, and I get it. You have to. But we’re not in Harper Falls now. For one weekend, I want you to forget about everything except enjoying yourself. You deserve a little fun. Whatever I spend this weekend, I’m spending because I want to and I can afford it. And if I catch you paying attention to the price of anything while we’re in New York, whether it’s the dress I’m going to insist you buy to wear when we go out to dinner tonight or the breakfast we’ll have in bed tomorrow morning, I’m going to double-down and buy even more just to prove my point. Got it?”