The All-Star Antes Up (Wager of Hearts #2) (23 page)

Luke swung the door closed and sauntered to one of the oversize chairs in front of the desk to sit down. “No, I was using it.”

“You haven’t got a wife, so who the hell were you talking to for so long?”

“What did you want to see me about?” He crossed his ankle over his knee and waited. Junius was unhappy about something.

“Pitch.” The coach looked around as though checking for eavesdroppers. “You sure the door’s closed?”

“Want me to lock it?”

“No.” Junius drummed his fingers on the desktop. “He’s not ready. I want you to work with him today and tomorrow.”

Luke didn’t like the sound of this. “Work with him on what?”

“His mental focus. I think he’s got the heebie-jeebies about his first game in the NFL. I need you to talk him through those.”

For the first time in years, Luke fought an internal battle between his obligation to his job and his desire to please himself. Usually, his interests aligned without conflict, but he’d planned to leave early to get set up for Miranda’s visit to his place. And there was Saturday’s expedition. Babysitting the rookie quarterback could put a kink in all those plans. “I’ll go talk to him now.”

“Don’t tell him I sent you. He’ll think I’ve lost confidence in him.”

Luke rose from his chair. “If you want me to play on Sunday, I’m ready.”

“Stan doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

Luke swallowed the insults he was about to heap on his longtime trainer. “Stan is being conservative. There’s no pain when I move.”

“Sit down, Luke.”

Luke sat, but he didn’t relax. Junius’s expression was ominous.

“Some people say you’re the greatest quarterback ever, and I’m not going to argue with them,” the coach said. “You’re the face of the New York Empire. When you play, the stadium sells out, no matter where in the country—or the world—it is.”

It was Anoint Luke Archer Day and no one had told him. But he didn’t like his coach’s tone. “Good to know you feel that way.”

“But you’re not getting any younger.”

There it was. The bullet to the heart. Luke felt the tearing impact but gave Junius a nonchalant shrug. “None of us are.”

“At best, you can play another—what?—four years. I have to look to the future of the team. I need to bring a new quarterback along.” The coach locked his gaze on Luke. “I will never have the opportunity to work with another athlete of your caliber in my lifetime. But Pitch could be good enough. With your help, he might even be excellent.”

Junius was trying to play on his vanity. Except he didn’t have any when it came to coaching. He didn’t want Junius’s job. Luke would work with Pitch, but the rookie had to find the mental focus and drive to succeed inside himself. “I’ll do my best.” Luke stood again.

“He’ll never be you, no matter what,” the coach said, throwing him a bone.

“We’ll see how close we can get him.” The coach nodded and picked up a sheaf of papers, so Luke strode to the door and jerked it open.

As he walked down the corridor, fear sent cold tentacles snaking through his chest. One injury and his coach was writing him off. And Junius didn’t even know about the shoulder pain.

This week he’d been forced to ease off on training, but next week he would go back at it full throttle. He had to make sure no one thought he was slowing down.

The fear joined with a dark cloud of regret as Luke faced another truth. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d been hoping he could play football and keep Miranda in his life, but that was off the table now.

Unlike Pitch, he knew how to focus.

Chapter 21

At 6:10, Miranda stood at the private entrance to Luke’s elevator foyer. She drew in a lungful of the crisp evening air and let it out slowly, allowing her mind and body to shift gears. The assistant concierge scheduled for the afternoon-into-evening shift had called in sick, so Miranda had been insanely busy all afternoon. She’d barely had time to change into the clothes she’d brought from home before she bolted from her office to avoid being asked to stay.

She’d spent a lot of time choosing the rose-colored, open-worked lace top and matching camisole that allowed lots of peeks of her skin. Below those were slim jeans and a pair of black stiletto ankle boots. She’d pulled her hair out of its ponytail to hang in long waves over her shoulders.

She inhaled again. Knowing this was her last evening with Luke made it seem important. She wanted him to like her clothes, to know she’d chosen them for him. No, what she really wanted was for him to break his rule about dating during the football season. It was a ridiculous dream, because he’d had some of the most beautiful women in the world in his bed, and he’d kicked them out when training camp began.

She swallowed the stupid tears threatening to clog her throat and typed the code into the security keypad. The lock clicked and she swung the door open. She took two steps into the small marble-lined foyer and stopped.

Leaning against the open elevator door was Luke, looking like a pinup cowboy in a tan Stetson, leather chaps over faded jeans, and tooled-leather cowboy boots. Even better, he wore no shirt, so she could see every muscle of that magnificent torso, as well as the technicolors of his healing bruises.

“Hey, sugar,” he drawled, pushing away from the elevator and sauntering toward her.

“Should I call you Tex?” she asked as Luke’s slow smile banished all thoughts of future problems from her mind.

“You called me cowboy on the phone.”

“Did I?” She was having a hard time even remembering her own name, much less what she’d said earlier.

He stopped scant inches from her, so she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin and catch the fresh scent of his aftershave.

“So you’re here to fulfill all my Old West fantasies?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, and all mine, too.” His voice was a low rasp as he threaded his hands into her hair and bent to kiss her, the brim of his hat creating an intimately enclosed space. When she ran her hands over the bare, warm skin of his shoulders, a low groan rumbled in his throat. He pulled his mouth away from hers. “Let’s get in that elevator.”

He locked one of his arms around her waist and swept her into the walnut-and-brass-paneled space. The doors closed behind them, and Luke flipped a switch before turning to slip her bag off her shoulder and drop it in the corner.

“The elevator’s not moving,” she said.

“I’ve got it on hold.” He began to unbutton her coat. “I didn’t want to rush through your fantasy.” He lifted his eyes so she could see the burn in them. “We’re taking it slow this time.”

“Oh,” she breathed as he pulled the coat down her arms and tossed it on top of her purse. Desire was already rolling through her in waves. “I thought cowboys liked to ride hard.”

“Hard doesn’t have to be fast.” His fingers traced along the low neckline of the camisole that showed through the lace. “I like this. I can feel you through it.”

The brush of his fingertips against fabric and skin sent little tendrils of sensation dancing over her nerve endings. Such a light touch from such a powerful man. As his fingers glided down to skim over her already-hard nipples, she shuddered, arousal spreading through her like licking flames.

When he slipped one of his hands under the hem of her camisole and around her waist to hold her steady, she decided to take advantage of that tempting expanse of bare, muscled chest right in front of her.

She placed her palms against his pectorals, relishing the way they jumped under her touch. There was a light sprinkle of glinting blond hair over his smooth skin. She found the surgical scars on his shoulder and ran her fingertips over them. Skimming downward, she walked her fingers over the washboard of his abdomen, marveling that this was a living, breathing body and not the carved marble of an idealized statue. Except for one thing. “Your bruises have turned a lovely shade of purplish green.” She gently traced just outside the edge of the discoloration. “Do they still hurt?”

“I don’t even remember getting hit.”

She smiled up into his eyes. “Big, strong football player. Never let them see you wince.”

He was serious when he said, “Damn straight.” Then he hooked one finger in the waistline of her jeans and pulled her in closer. “Truth is, you have miraculous healing powers in your touch.”

“You’re just temporarily distracted.”

“That’s why I need you to stay here. To distract me all night.”

God, she wanted to stay. It was her last chance to be with him. But tomorrow was going to be long and exhausting even without the loss of sleep. She wasn’t used to the physical labor of farm chores anymore. However, she wasn’t going to ruin his seductive mood by telling him about the farm. So she kept it vague. “I have to work tomorrow. Can we spend a few hours actually sleeping?”

Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “We’ll definitely spend some time in bed.”

“I caught the difference between those two phrases.” She took all hint of teasing from her voice. “I know how wonderful it is to curl up against that large, hot body of yours and drift off to sleep.”

“I’ll make sure you get your rest, sugar. But you’ll sleep better after some exercise.”

With that he took hold of her lace overblouse and tugged it upward, so she raised her arms to let him slip it off. He peeled the camisole up and off, too. Now all that stood between his hands and her breasts was a wisp of cream-colored lace. “This is real pretty,” he said, grazing his fingertips along the scalloped edge of the bra, “but it’s in my way.”

Before she realized what he was doing, he had snaked his hands behind her and flicked open the hooks. He slid the straps down her arms, and the bra landed on top of the growing heap of clothing in the corner.

His gaze dropped to her now-bare breasts, sending a wave of self-consciousness washing over her. Until she saw his expression. Pure, unadulterated want lit his eyes. “So perfect,” he said, bringing his hands in to cup her breasts almost reverently. The feel of his palms against the sensitive skin made her breathe out a long, “Aaah.” She arched her back to push into his hands, needing more pressure against the aching nipples. He moved so he could circle the tight buds with his thumbs. Lasers of heat sizzled downward to converge in her belly. She moaned and rocked her hips.

He slid one chaps-clad thigh between hers so she could pulse against him. But there were too many layers of clothes between them. She unbuttoned her jeans and ripped down the zipper.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, helping her jerk her jeans and panties down to the top of her boots. He knelt to slip the boots off her feet and set them aside as she kicked her jeans away. His gaze laid a trail of heat up her body until he met her eyes. “Let’s put those sexy boots back on,” he said, holding one out for her to slip her foot into.

As she stepped into the second one, he stood up, skimming his fingers over her legs and hips. “I like spike heels and bare skin.”

He backed her into the rear of the elevator and drove his thigh between hers again, lifting her so she was riding him. She nearly came when her wet, aching center ground against the sueded leather covering his leg. She fought down the near orgasm. He’d said he wanted to take it slow.

“How does that feel?” he murmured against the side of her neck as he wrapped his hands around her hips and rocked her against his thigh.

“Like I’m going to come if you don’t stop,” she panted when the tension nearly crested again.

“Let yourself go. You can have another one.” He pressed his thigh upward so it ground against the searing hunger between her legs. She exploded, holding on to the steel of his upper arms as her internal muscles released from their clench of arousal and her body jolted with pleasure.

“Yesssss!” she hissed, her eyes closed and her head thrown back. He tilted her hips to a different angle and the climax smashed into her again. The wash of blazing, luscious satisfaction flooded through her. “Oh, yes!”

As the tremors lessened, she sagged forward against him, still astride his hard, muscled thigh. He wrapped his arms around her and held her while she eased down from the soaring heights he’d taken her to. “So much for slow,” she said.

“I love it that you were so ready.” His voice vibrated in the ear she had pressed to his chest.

“How about you, cowboy? Aren’t you ready, too?” She felt his erection solid and hard against her.

“I’ve been ready since our phone conversation this afternoon.”

She chuckled smugly. “Some things are worth waiting for.”

She felt a jump of tension in his muscles. “I want you to keep that in mind, sweetheart.”

“Well, I don’t want to wait any longer.” She pulled his head down to hers so she could kiss him with carnal intent. He shifted so their mouths melded and their tongues glided together. He took her mouth in a foreshadowing of how he would take all of her.

With a groan he tore his lips away from hers and ripped the buckle of his chaps open.

“Too bad you didn’t wear just those and nothing else,” she purred.

“So you like leather. How about I just unzip my jeans and go from there?” He did that, freeing his erect cock from the denim and yanking a foil envelope from his back pocket.

She held out her hand. When he passed her the packet, she ripped it open with her teeth. The gesture fit this wild, abandoned encounter. Before she rolled it on, she ran her fingers up and down his erection, loving the growl she drew from his throat. She stroked the condom on, eliciting another low rumble.

Before she knew what was happening, he had spun her into the corner, where the handrails that ran around the sides of the car met. He took her hands and placed one on each handrail before pulling her knee high up on his hip and holding it there. “Hang on tight,” he said, as he slid his other hand under her bottom and pulled her upward so she was tipped into the corner and braced on her arms.

He bent his knees and came up into her in a swift, devastating motion, making both of them gasp at the contact. It was so good to have him inside her, filling the fiery ache. She braced herself on the handrails, angling her body so he could have easier access.

“That’s it, sugar,” he rasped, shifting his grip to splay her thighs wider. For a moment, he met her eyes, the blue of his scorching. Then he deliberately dropped his gaze to where they were joined, watching as he plunged into her and withdrew, then drove in again.

The leather of his chaps grazed her inner thighs, adding one more sensation to the build of pressure and motion inside her. Tension knotted tighter and tighter in her belly as he filled and emptied her.

And then he lost control, moving faster and faster until she felt the beginning of her second orgasm. When her muscles tightened, he thrust hard and lifted his head to send her name echoing around the enclosed space as he came. While he pulsed inside her, she went over the edge, feeling the wholly different thrill of climaxing around the delicious invasion of his cock. A sound she didn’t recognize as her own wrenched itself from her throat as her insides seemed to melt into liquid bliss.

When he slid out of her, she moaned at the friction against already stimulated nerves. “Easy, sweetheart.” He let her down slowly to balance on her stiletto heels. Her arms had spasmed from holding herself up and she tried to shake them out.

“Cramps?” he asked, using his thumbs to push into the tired muscles in exactly the right places.

“That’s almost as good as the sex.”

“Then I didn’t do the sex right.” He pivoted away to strip off the condom.

“If that sex was
wrong
, I don’t think I could survive
right
.” She bent to grab her jeans off the pile.

“No need for those.” He flicked a switch, sending the elevator soaring upward. Once again, his gaze scorched down her body to her boots. “I’ll keep you warm.” He pulled her against him by grabbing her bottom with one hand.

She smacked her jeans against his thigh. “I’m not walking out of this elevator stark naked.”

“Why not? It’s a private elevator direct to my place, and no one’s home but us.” His dimple appeared. “I want to lay you down on my big leather couch and kiss every inch of your gorgeous skin.” He dropped his voice lower. “And taste you. God, do I want to taste you. Then maybe I’ll talk you into bending over the sofa arm and . . .”

“Stop.” She put her hand over his mouth. He touched her palm with the tip of his tongue, a silky, damp warmth. His touch reverberated through her, pooling low and sultry.

The elevator glided to a stop, and the door slid open. Miranda peered out into the light-filled foyer of his apartment.

“I swear it’s empty,” Luke said, amusement edging his voice. He gave her a playful nudge on her butt. “Go ahead. I’ll grab the rest of your clothes.”

She wrapped her jeans around her torso as she stepped out onto the gray stone floor, her heels clicking against the hard surface. She felt awkward and exposed until Luke came up behind her and wound one arm around her waist, bringing her back against him so she could feel leather, denim, and his bare skin touching hers.

“It’s strange walking into your home for the first time without any clothes on. I want to look around, but I feel too . . . naked.”

He blew out an exaggerated sigh against her neck. “Naked is good, but I can offer an alternative.”

“You can give me my clothes,” Miranda said, wiggling out of his grasp.

He put the handful of fabrics behind his back with a grin. “There’s something else I’d like you to wear. Make yourself comfortable in the living room, and I’ll be right back.”

With that he turned and took off down the hall. The chaps outlined the worn denim that cupped his butt so she could see the muscles moving under the fabric. The buckles gave a faint musical chink with each step.