The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (115 page)

Time flies, and before long I get a text from Evan alerting me that he’s safely landed and should be here in about an hour.  While I wait for his arrival, I lock myself in my office and take care of some paperwork that desperately needs my attention.  I upload a picture of Evan from today’s game to Rush’s Facebook page, and I return some phone calls to our vendors.

As I’m reading through some agreement forms for our new linen and laundry service, I’m interrupted by a loud buzz emanating from the dining room.  I carefully file away the contract and follow the disruption to its source. 

My sixth sense kicks in – the one that lets me know when Evan is near.  I can feel my body humming as I move closer to the front of the house.  Sure enough, I find him standing in the center of the dining room, surrounded by fans of all shapes and sizes.  A few are congratulating him on today’s victory, which almost guarantees the Sentinels a spot in the playoffs.  Others are asking for autographs.  Flashes from cell phones are going off in all directions.

I hang back and watch, enjoying the show.  Evan, as always, is charming and affable, patiently signing his name and thanking the fans for their support.  His bright blue gaze scan the crowd, searching for me, and when his eyes connect with mine, they light up.  He tilts his head in my direction and smiles broadly, engraving those heart-stopping dimples that make him even more deliciously edible.

I nod back in acknowledgement and wait, happy to enjoy a moment when I can study him without fear of embarrassment.  He has on a pair of dark wash jeans that fit him perfectly, along with a pair of brown suede loafers.  He’s wearing a white button-down shirt that I know he had custom made to fit his hulking biceps.  His messy chestnut hair perfectly frames his chiseled face.  This man is devastatingly handsome and he’s all mine.

Once he’s satisfied he’s fulfilled his duty, he bounds toward me, wraps his arms around me, and lifts me off my feet.  “I’ve been waiting to do this since last night’s call,” he growls into my mouth as he claims me.  I love his mouth.  I love how he tastes.  As his tongue gently dances with mine, a rush of warmth floods my lower stomach.  Slowly, he places me back on my feet and looks deep into my eyes, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I confess.

We find a booth in the back of the restaurant that Marcus has left vacant for us.  Evan slowly slides in first.  I can tell by the way he moves carefully that he’s sore from today’s game.  I scoot in and find my spot, nestled tightly beside him, underneath his long, protective arm.  He reaches over with his gargantuan hand and takes my tiny hand in his.  Bringing my engagement ring up to his lips, he tells me in his softest, sweetest voice, “You were with me on the field today, Juliette.  I couldn’t erase the images you placed in my mind last night.”

I look around anxiously to see if anyone is listening.  “You’ve completely broken me, Mr. McGuire.  I can no longer function without you.  It’s entirely your own fault.”

“I will gladly take credit for that, my love.”  He places a soft kiss on the top of my head just as our waitress, Lindsay, comes to take our dinner order.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you might be hungry after the game today, Evan.  Do you know what you want or do you need more time?” Lindsay asks.

Evan releases my hand and grabs a menu.  He quickly rattles off three different entrees, and none of them are meant for me.  During football season, I am amazed by the amount of calories this man can pack away.  I request an avocado and tomato panini, and Lindsay rushes off to get our order started. 

Before long, Emmy hurries to our table to congratulate Evan on his win today.  She fawns all over him, gushing with pride and joy.  When she asks Evan if he would like anything special from the bar, I jump in before he can even answer.

“Evan and I would love to do a shot of Black and Gold.  Bring back three – you can do a shot with us,” I tell her. 

Evan’s about to interrupt, but I kick him under the table, stifling his destruction of my evil plot.  Once Emmy is clearly out of hearing range, Evan asks, “Okay, now what the hell was that all about?  I haven’t eaten anything all day.  Drinking on an empty stomach is a bad idea, Juliette.  I’m driving you home, for Christ’s sake.”

“Just go along with it.  I’ll explain it to you later, I promise.”  I bring my lips up to his ear and breathe, “Please.”  Once I nibble on his ear and give it a playful flick of my tongue, I know I’ve got him.  He closes his eyes as I make my way down his neck, nibbling and tasting.

When I stop, he looks at me and nods. “A little more of that, and you could get me to agree to just about anything, Running Girl.”

I look up and find Derek heading toward our table with a serving tray holding three shots.  He places them in front of us and holds out his hand to Evan.  “Nice game, Mac.  That was a perfect game, man.  You made it look easy out there.”

“Yeah, but we both know there’s nothing easy about professional football.”  Evan looks down and sees three shots sitting there.  He hands one to Derek and offers, “Do a shot with us,” as he hands me the other glass.

I shoot Evan one of my “if looks could kill” expressions, and he knows immediately he’s done something wrong.  But from the look on his face, I know he has no idea what unspoken rule he’s violated.

I hold up my glass and offer a quick toast. “To another Sentinels victory and another step closer to the playoffs.”  We clink glasses and place the empties back on Derek’s platter. 

The moment he leaves, Evan insists on an explanation.  I describe the test I found and how I’m trying to figure out if one of our friends is pregnant.

“So you thought that rather than come right out and ask her, you’d be sneaky and gather meaningless clues to solve a puzzle?”  He shoots me a very judgmental look.  “So, Sherlock, are you any closer to solving the case?”

“Not really,” I reluctantly admit.  I’ll have to put everyone to the test.  Thanksgiving is just a few days away, and we’ll find out soon enough.

I
love Mondays.  Evan is usually off the day after a game, especially after they have a big win like yesterday.  The restaurant is closed, so we’re free to spend the entire day together. 

Evan sits on the couch, watching Sports Center recaps from yesterday’s games while I finish cleaning up from breakfast.  Holy cow, that boy can put away some food!  It amazes me he’s not the size of a sumo wrestler. 

He looks ravishing just sitting there.  His wavy hair is still damp from his shower and it’s falling in clumps around his beautiful face.  I want to consume him. 

When I’ve finished cleaning, I stand behind him, gently rubbing his broad shoulders.  The moment my hands begin kneading his sore muscles, he hunches over just enough to grant me better access to his back and neck.

I love hearing the sounds of pleasure leave his mouth.  I know I would do absolutely anything to get him to make those sounds every day of our lives.

Evan slowly raises his head and I respond by running my nails along his scalp and playing with his waves, pulling and twisting with just the right amount of pressure.  I can feel the tension leaving his body with every squeeze.

“So, Evan,” I begin, “do you know what you want to do today?”

“Nuh-uh,” he mumbles.

“It’s still raining,” I remind him as I focus on his neck muscles.  “Want to see a movie?”

“Nuh-uh,” he repeats.

“Okay, how about bowling or the aquarium?” I ask.

“Nuh-uh,” he groans. 

After the third grunt, I stop my massage.  “Come on, Chief.  Give me something to work with here.  What do you want to do today?  How about a museum?”

Evan turns around and looks at me suspiciously. “Seriously, Juliette?  A museum?  No way.  The only kind of art I have any interest in is photography – you know, the kind you might see in
National Geographic
.  Find me a photography exhibit like that, and you’ve got a deal.”

“I wasn’t talking about MoMA or the Met.  I thought we could have fun at the American Museum of Natural History – you know, dinosaurs and cavemen.  I haven’t been there since I was a kid.”  I can see Evan’s wheels turning, considering my suggestion.

“They have a planetarium, right?”

“Sure, the Hayden Planetarium.  It’s kinda famous.”

“I’ll go, but on one condition,” he warns.  There’s a twinkle in his eye, and that’s usually a good sign.  “Only if we can make out in the planetarium.”

“You drive a hard bargain, but I think I could live with that.”  Suddenly I’m getting excited.  My mother used to take my friends and me to the museum all the time when I was little.  Every time we went to the Hall of Ocean Life, I would get freaked out walking beneath the gigantic blue whale suspended from the ceiling.

My momentary enthusiasm is squelched by reality.  Whenever Evan and I go out in public, we have to be very careful about causing a scene.  We’ve been accosted by enthusiastic fans and paparazzi in bars and restaurants many times, and it’s something we have learned to live with.  Since he became the starting quarterback, the attention has only gotten worse.

“Evan, should we call the museum and warn them we’re coming?  They may want to ramp up their security,” I suggest.

“Already on it,” Evan answers as he runs through the contacts on his phone.  “I’m going to get us access to private parking too.”

I turn to head into the shower.  Once I’m halfway down the hallway, Evan calls to me, “Baby, should I make dinner reservations too?”

“Yes, please,” I call back in return.  “Find us someplace off the beaten track.  Somewhere quiet, okay?”

“Got it!” he hollers to me. 

I plug my iPhone into the wall docking station that Evan had installed in our renovated bathroom.  Originally we weren’t going to make any changes to our love nest, but as the interior designer suggested updates and upgrades, we agreed to most of them.  One of my favorite changes is the heated bathroom floor.  With the push of a button, the slate tiles beneath my feet begin to radiate warmth. 

There are a few other changes too.  The shower has been moved to the opposite wall and away from the window that looks out onto the breaking ocean.  That small change gives Evan peace of mind that our intimate moments are not on public display.  I don’t mind, really.  The glass doors on the shower give just enough privacy, but maintain a direct view of the oceanfront vista.

As my favorite playlist shuffles through songs, I find it easy to lose track of time under the rainfall showerhead and massaging pulsating wall sprayers.  When the fifth song ends, I decide I’ve been in the shower long enough.  I’ve stayed a little longer than I needed to, mostly because I was waiting to see if Evan would join me.  Not this time.

Wrapping myself in a towel, I slink into the living room to see what Evan’s up to.  He rarely lets me have a twenty-minute-long shower uninterrupted.

Evan is still on the phone, oblivious to my emergence from the bathroom.  He’s speaking in hushed tones, so it’s difficult to make out exactly what he’s discussing.  I can make out a few words like “private”, “restricted”, and “discharged”.  I’m clueless.  What could he be planning for us?  Then I hear him clearly telling the person on the other end of the line, “I don’t want her finding out.  Are we clear?”

When I hear that, I tiptoe away undetected.  He’s obviously discussing something he doesn’t want me to know about.  I step into our huge walk-in closet and take a seat on the round upholstered bench inside.  Should I be excited or worried?  I like the sound of going someplace with Evan that’s private and restricted.  It sounds exactly like what I had in mind.  But what does “discharged” mean?  And why doesn’t he want me to know?

I shake the worry from my mind.  It might not have anything to do with me at all.  Evan has been nothing but sweet, romantic, and thoughtful.  He’s given me no reason to doubt him whatsoever.  If he wants me to know what’s going on, he’ll tell me.  Otherwise, I’ll have to trust that the relationship we’ve both worked so hard to manage and maintain is as solid as ever.

When I emerge from our room, I notice that the rain has momentarily stopped and Evan is outside with Maddy, throwing around a Frisbee.  Evan’s phone is sitting on the kitchen counter.  My hand is itching to grab it and check his recent calls.  It would be so easy.  But it would also be so wrong.  I’m warring with my own conscience.  I have no reason not to trust him, but I’m so damn curious it’s killing me.

My resolve begins to weaken.  I look out the window, and Evan is still playing with Maddy, showing no sign of coming back inside anytime soon.  Cautiously, I pick up the phone and hold it in my hand.  I swipe the screen, type the passcode, and stare.  I decide to look.  My imagination will bother me all day and I’m quite certain there’s nothing incriminating to be found.

Just as I’m about to check the call log, the phone rings in my hand.  Adam’s name pops up, stopping me from snooping. 

I answer the phone cheerfully. “Hey Sparky, what’s up?”  I started called Adam “Sparky” after he helped me to escape from my burning house, just like in the story of
Sparky the Fire Dog
we learned in elementary school.  He hates it, which makes me like it even more.