The Perfect Play (9 page)

It was time to shore up his offense.

FIVE

“HOW WAS FOOTBALL CAMP?”

“Fine.”

“Did you learn any new plays?”

Shrug.

“Meet any new friends?”

“Mom, I’m not six years old. It was fine, okay?”

Nathan took his cereal bowl to the sink and dropped it in there.

“In the dishwasher, please. I’m not your maid.”

“Whatever. I have to go get ready for practice.”

He rinsed his bowl and threw it in the dishwasher, then huffed out of the kitchen and into his room, where he slammed the door shut.

Delightful.

Tara let out a long sigh. Why didn’t parenthood come with a manual? There were no guidelines for dealing with a teenager, and she had no parents or siblings to go to for help.

Had she been this difficult at his age?

Probably.

Ugh. Then again, she was much nicer than her own parents had been. Point in her favor. Not that it was helping with Nathan. She could be pleasant to him or she could be surly, and neither seemed to impact him in any way. He had
attitude
down to an art form. No matter what she did or what she said, he was pissed-off about it.

He was turning fifteen in a less than a month. She should plan something fun for him, let him invite his friends over, and ...

And what? She had no idea what he liked anymore. He had his earbuds shoved in his ears and listened to music or played games on his laptop when he was home. Otherwise he played football and hung out with his friends. The kid wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. As far as she knew, girls hadn’t yet entered the picture.

As far as she knew. And admittedly, she didn’t know much, though she was determined to not be like her parents. Like it or not, she was going to be involved in her son’s life.

She chewed on a hangnail and nursed her cup of coffee, pondering how to reach her recalcitrant child who really wasn’t a child anymore.

He was almost fifteen. At fifteen she’d been partying with her friends and with boys. And she was getting pregnant, mainly because her parents were too busy with their own private demons to pay any attention to what she was doing with her life. And oh,
how
she’d screwed up her life.

Lord. She rubbed her temples and sent a silent prayer to God that history wouldn’t repeat itself.

No, it wouldn’t. She was on top of Nathan and what he was doing. She wouldn’t let him fall through the cracks. She loved her son, paid attention to his schoolwork and his after-school activities. It was only this past freshman year in high school that he’d gone quiet and sullen on her, and she’d chalked that up to hormones and puberty. She had to give him some space, hated those parents who laid a thumb over their kids, never giving them any freedom. So far, Nathan’s grades were good, and he hadn’t given her any reason to think he was in any kind of trouble.

She owed him her trust—until he gave her a reason not to trust him.

And she hoped to God she could trust him, because it was summer and she had to go to work and he was too damn old for a babysitter.

But at least he had football practice that would keep him busy for part of the day, and that was part of the day she wouldn’t have to worry about what he was doing or what kind of trouble he was getting into.

Which was another reason she couldn’t get involved in any kind of relationship right now. Nathan was her first priority. She had to stay on her toes, and frolicking with a hot guy like Mick Riley would definitely divert her focus away from Nathan. That she refused to do.

By the time she got into the office, she’d managed to shove worry over Nathan into the corner of her brain she normally compartmentalized him into. Always there, but not overpowering her every thought. He had a cell phone and knew he could call her in case of an emergency. Her office was ten minutes from home, so she could get there in a hurry if necessary.

The day went by in a flurry of meetings about clients and events. Thank God for her job and her clients, and for Maggie and the other women, who kept her sane.

By the time four o’clock rolled around, she was astounded the day was already gone. She sipped a cup of tea and went over paperwork and entered dates into the computer.

“Have you been seeing that hot quarterback any?”

Tara looked up to find Maggie making herself at home in her office.

Actually, it had been a week since that night on top of the mountain with Mick. He hadn’t called her. He said he would. Then again, he was a man. They’d had sex. He was popular and went through a ton of women, none of whom had children. Tara knew once she’d dropped that bomb on him, it would be the end of Mick Riley pursuing her.

It’s what she’d wanted. Still, it stung. Just a little.

Fortunately, she’d been too damn busy all week for it to bother her too much.

“No. Not seeing him at all. I told you we weren’t getting involved.”

“Uh-huh. He’s in the front waiting area.”

Tara shot forward in her chair and spilled drops of tea all over her paperwork. “Shit.”

Maggie laughed.

“Dammit, why didn’t you just tell me that?

Maggie grinned and grabbed a few tissues to blot the tea stains. “More fun this way.”

“Bitch.” Tara smoothed her hands down the front of her flowing black-and-white checkered skirt, adjusted the wide black belt, and was just vain enough to take a quick glance at her hair in the mirror over her desk.

Her blouse was tucked in and looked fine. She looked fine.

“What is he doing here?” she asked Maggie.

Maggie shrugged. “I’m sure I don’t know, but he looks good enough to eat.”

Tara rolled her eyes, moving around her desk toward her door. “You need a man of your own.”

Maggie sighed and followed Tara out of her office. “Don’t I know it.”

She was nervous as she walked to the front of the store. Mick stood there at the window, his dark hair highlighted by the sun streaming in. He was so tall, so imposing, so incredibly gorgeous. He turned when he heard her and smiled that dazzling smile that made her just a little bit weak in the knees.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi, yourself.”

Maggie came up next to her, and Tara had to turn and give her a look.

“Oh. Yeah. Paperwork. Later, Mick.”

Mick’s lips quirked. “Later, Maggie.”

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s been a week since I’ve seen you.”

“I realize that. Figured you’d moved on.” She almost bit her tongue clean off. Why did she have to say that? It sounded ... mopey and girlie and needy and all those things she’d rather not sound like.

“No, I just had some business things I had to take care of. I would have called you at night or come by your house, but you didn’t give me your cell number or your home address.”

She crossed her arms. “When has that ever stopped you? Couldn’t your oh-so-stealthy agent scout them out for you?”

“Actually, yes, she could have.” He cocked his head to the side. “I figured maybe you’d want to give them to me yourself this time. Maybe even invite me over to your house.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because you like me.”

Telling him no was on the tip of her tongue. She’d just gotten to the point where she thought she’d never see him again.

And she’d spent the entire week missing him and feeling achy about not seeing him. How utterly pathetic, especially since she hadn’t wanted to start up a relationship with him in the first place.

“I’d really like to meet your son. Does he like football?”

She sighed. “He loves football.”

He moved in closer, picked up a strand of her hair, twirling the curling end between his fingers. “Invite me over for dinner. We’ll have pizza.”

“You don’t strike me as the pizza type.”

“Then there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

No doubt. “That’s not a good idea.”

He leaned in closer. God, he smelled good. Her hormones noticed.

“Invite me over for pizza.”

“Would you like to come over for dinner tonight, Mick?” Damn hormones.

His smile could melt a woman straight into the floorboards.

“I’d love to. Give me your address.”

She jerked a piece of paper from the pad on the table and wrote her address.

“Might as well add your cell phone number, too.”

She did, then handed him the paper. “Six thirty okay?”

“Perfect.”

He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers, and her stomach did flip-flops. Her utterly girlie stomach. Dammit.

“See you then.”

He walked out. Tara stupidly stood at the window watching him walk across the street, his stride eating up the asphalt. He looked damn hot in a pair of cargo pants and a white T-shirt that stretched tightly over his mighty fine muscles.

Maggie’s sigh over her shoulder jolted her back to reality. She whipped around to face Maggie, Ellen, and Karie.

“What?”

“You’re dating the captain of the football team,” Karie said with a dreamy sigh.

Tara rolled her eyes. “Go back to work. All of you. This isn’t high school.”

“No, but it’s every girl’s dream
from
high school,” Ellen said with a laugh.

 

 

TARA HAD A HALF HOUR BEFORE MICK WAS DUE TO arrive, and she was a total wreck. One would think the queen was arriving instead of just a guy coming over to sit on her couch and have pizza.

Her house was a disaster, the scourge of having an unsupervised teenager running amok during the day. Empty soda cans littered the tables in the living room, the sink was filled with dishes, and said culprit had already taken off for his friend’s house for the night.

The kid was going to be toast. She’d have him on housecleaning duty the rest of the week.

She picked up, ran the vacuum, tossed the dishes into the dishwasher, then dashed upstairs to change clothes, deciding Mick was either going to have to deal with her life and the state of her house or he’d leave, preferring the jet-set lifestyle of caviar, maid service, and supermodels.

Tara was neither caviar nor supermodelish, and she sure as hell didn’t have maid service. She was pizza on a Friday night, and the way she looked now, which was tank top, blue jeans, and flip-flops, with her hair wound into a messy ponytail thingy. He was going to have to take it or leave it.

She let out a low shriek when the doorbell rang, then hurried downstairs toward the door, shooting a glance at the clock as she took the stairs two at a time.

She was out of breath by the time she flung the door open, and Mick frowned.

“Asthma attack?”

“More like a panic attack. I was picking up the house and trying to make myself presentable.”

He walked in with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “You look pretty presentable to me. These are for you.”

Wildflowers. Not a dozen roses, but daisies and bellflowers and lilies and freesia and baby’s breath. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He followed her into the kitchen. “You didn’t strike me as a roses kind of woman.”

“I’m not a roses kind of woman. I love these.” She grabbed a vase and filled it with water, then arranged the flowers in it and put it on her dining room table.

“Where’s Nathan?”

“Not home.” She wasn’t about to tell him that Nathan was spending Friday night at a friend’s house. She wasn’t ready for Mick to meet him yet. It was too soon, and she wasn’t sure where she and Mick were headed. Hell, she wasn’t sure about anything. No way was she going to involve her son.

“I see.” He grabbed her around he waist and jerked her against him, then planted his lips on hers, giving her one seriously hot kiss that melted her feet to her kitchen floor. Tara sank into the kiss, forgetting all about where she was until Mick pulled away.

“Wow.”

He grinned. “Figured we wouldn’t get any alone time for that tonight, so wanted to get it in now.”

She blinked to clear her head. “Okay then.”

He looked around. “So show me your house.”

“It’s just a condo, Mick. Nothing fancy.”

He turned to her. “I live in a condo. Nothing fancy, either. So show me yours, and when you come to my place I’ll show you mine.”

His words evoked images of
you show me yours and I’ll show you mine
that had nothing to do with living space. She tried to suppress the tingle that rolled down her spine, but as she led him from room to room, she felt his eyes on her and wondered if he was really looking at her place or at
her
.

“You have a nice place, Tara.”

She shrugged. “I try to make a home for Nathan. And he’s a slob, so if you find stinky tennis shoes anywhere, blame him.”

He laughed. “You forget who you’re talking to. And I’m glad we’re not at my condo right now, because you probably
would
find smelly tennis shoes somewhere. So relax. The fact you have a teenage boy and he actually lives here isn’t going to send me running out the door. I
was
a teenage boy once. I get how they live.”

“Fine. I’ll try not to panic.” She took him through the living room and dining room.

“I don’t think you want to see the upstairs.”

“Sure I do. I want to see your whole house.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

They took the stairs, and again she felt his gaze on her. It wasn’t making her uncomfortable, exactly, just aware that she was alone in her house with a man. When was she ever alone in her house with a man?

Uh ... never? She never brought guys over, never wanted to parade a stream of men in and out of Nathan’s life. She figured if she’d ever thought about having a permanent relationship with a guy, she’d let him meet Nathan.

So why had she invited Mick over? They weren’t even really dating.