Forward Pass. Desiree HoltЧитать онлайн книгу.
before.”
“My cap?” She frowned. “I doubt it. I’ll bet there’s a million red caps out there and this one is one of a kind.”
She tried to pull away but Joe’s grip on her was firm.
“But that’s a distinctive red.” He frowned. “Let’s see. You’re just getting home from out of town. You flew in from New York. Not too many flights from there to here landing at this time. I don’t have to be too bright to think you might be the idiot who tossed her drink all over me on the plane.”
Her stomach plummeted. “You must have me confused with someone else.”
He moved to block her path. “I don’t think so.” He reached behind her head and tugged on her ponytail. “I definitely think you’re the culprit. I should make you pay for my dry cleaning.”
“Fine. Whatever.” She had to get away from him. His nearness was driving her nuts and his touch sent threads of heat to various parts of her body. “Send me the bill.”
He tipped her chin up with one finger. When his eyes looked directly into hers, everything in her body went liquid. All her damn danger signs were flashing. He was just playing with her, nothing more. Just being Joe. She needed to remember that.
“I’d say it entitles me to guest privileges here, too. Don’t you agree?”
He wasn’t going to leave. That much was obvious.
“I said I’d pay for the damn dry cleaning. Just leave the stuff on the counter in the utility room.”
“I think that’s worth a lot more than just paying a bill,” he repeated. “Even more than house privileges. I should get special privileges. Like maybe having you cook my dinner, too.” Laughter lurked in his eyes.
“In your dreams,” she snapped. She knew he was yanking her chain, and he was doing a good job of it. Somehow she would find a way to get him out of the house while she still had her wits about her. Good thing she was more than over Joe Reilly. If only every one of her nerve endings didn’t sizzle when he was within two feet of her.
He chuckled, obviously enjoying himself. “Maybe I can think of a few more things to add to the list.”
“Forget it. Not happening.” She pushed past him, tugging her suitcase. “You clean up after yourself and don’t leave a mess in the kitchen.” At the door to her bedroom she looked back at him.
“Just be sure to stay out of my way. And if you insist on sharing the bathroom you’d damn well better keep it clean. House rules. I don’t even want to see a razor lying on the sink.”
“Wow. Stiff rules.” He laughed again. “I’ll do my best not to break any of them.”
Shay slammed the door to her bedroom and threw herself on her bed. Great. Just freaking great. She didn’t have enough stress in her life. Now she was forced to deal with Joe Reilly as a temporary housemate. Lying there with her arm over her eyes, something else occurred to her. She jumped up, yanked open the door, and stormed into the living room. Joe, unfortunately, was not there. She found him in the room he was using, pulling a shirt out of a suitcase.
Shay stopped, momentarily mesmerized by the sight of his solid chest with its dusting of dark hair. Again her pulse thrummed and the blood heated in her veins. She scrubbed at her cheeks that suddenly felt too hot.
Please don’t let him notice.
“Come right in,” he teased, slipping the soft, collared shirt over his head. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“How long?” she demanded.
He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s an ambiguous question. How long what?”
“Will you be here, damn it. How long?”
That sexy laugh rumbled out again. “Ready to toss me out so soon?”
She fisted her hands. “I just want to know when you plan to leave.”
He shrugged. “When I finish my business. Hank said no rush.”
“Argh!” She stamped her foot, then immediately regretted it. He’d never see her as a woman if she kept acting like a child. Oh, wait. He’d never see her that way at all. She let out a calming breath. “So? When?”
The grin disappeared from his face.
“Shay, is there some reason you don’t want me here? I thought we were friends.”
“Friends?” she squeaked. “What makes you say that? You never treated me as anything but Hank’s pain-in-the-ass little sister. We were never friends. And it’s too late to start now. Trust me.”
The look he gave her ignited every space in her body. The air around them crackled with sudden, unexpected sexual energy and the heat that flared in his eyes shocked her. Holy hell. She swallowed hard and sent a silent message to her body to behave. Now, after so long, was not the time to respond to Joe’s masculine sexuality. Actually, for her sanity, the time would be—never.
“So what’s the answer?” she persisted, ignoring the hungry look Joe suddenly gave her.
“The answer,” he drawled, “is I don’t know. Preseason’s not for a couple more months. That gives me time before I have to be back to get ready for the show. I have some things to take care of here.” His gaze seemed to bore into her. “Maybe as long as I’m around we can try to be…friends.”
“Friends.”
His gaze took a leisurely tour of her body again, as if mentally cataloging each of her assets. It took every bit of self-control to tear her eyes away, but the new Shay wasn’t going to be tempted.
“I don’t think so.” She frowned. “Let’s just try to stay out of each other’s way. Oh. And one more thing. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring any of your women here.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “My women?”
“Yeah. You know. Your usual harem. By the way, if your phone still has Bad Company’s Feel Like Makin’ Love as a ringtone, put it on mute.”
A smile threatened again. “You don’t like the song?”
“Well, it’s certainly appropriate for your lifestyle, I’ll say that.”
His face sobered. “Shay—”
“I’m sure your salary’s plenty big,” she interrupted. “You can spring for a hotel room when the need arises.” Under her breath she muttered, “Which will probably be about every night.”
“What did you say?” he demanded.
“I said you probably won’t be sleeping here much.”
“That’s a low blow.” She heard the edge of anger in his voice. “Is that how you think of me? Really?”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
Before he could say anything else, she headed back to her room and slammed the door again. She knew she was being childish. Juvenile. But holy hell. Joe Reilly in her space for a whole week. Maybe more. How was she supposed to handle that?
* * * *
Joe stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, now clear of the earlier steam from his shower. Not bad-looking, he told himself. A few more lines in his face and just a hint of gray in the hair. The thing bothering him, however, was the lust flaring in his eyes, lust put there by the little go-round with Shay Beckham.
The image he’d carried with him from the last time he’d seen her, however brief the contact, was spot-on. Something he’d wanted to chalk up to an aberration on his part. An overactive imagination.
Hank had been in New York, staying with his sister for a couple of days, and Joe drove into the city to have dinner with him. When Shay opened the door and he’d looked at her, his