Page 14 of Playing for Love

Tate coughed and Gabe shook his head. “Not a word from you.” He didn’t look angry or annoyed, more like resigned.

“I’ll talk to her,” I said, as if I had sway over Denise. Maybe I had sway on her wardrobe decisions, but that would be the only thing she listened to me about—and that was because of my mother’s creds, not mine.

“I’m counting on it,” he said. That made my chest bubble, as if he had all the confidence in the world in me. In truth, it galvanized me, made me determined to do my damnedest.

“Not that I’m a gossip,” Tate said, “but I find it hard to believe that Mr. Football, cover boy for GQ and Sports Illustrated and splashed on every billboard and social media outlet everywhere I look, is having women problems.”

“Keep it down. I don’t want my mother to know.”

Tate laughed, shaking his head. I suppressed a smile at Gabe’s comical look as he leaned with his head in one hand as if he were troubled. The quirk of one side of his mouth showing that famous dimple was a dead giveaway that however troubled he felt deep down, he wasn’t letting it interfere with the moment. And I truly believed he must be feeling lonely and sad on some level. Denise had put him into a tough position.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the solution was for Gabe to break it off with her. It was fifty-fifty in my mind between a breakup and an engagement. I couldn’t see him buying her a ring unless she promised to move back here.

They were at serious odds. And I felt like I was in the middle of it. I leaned closer to Tate. He could save me from being embroiled in an unholy love triangle. He could be the escape I needed. Desperately. Because deep down, I was rooting for the breakup and I didn’t like myself for it.

“So, Tate, what do you do besides play football?” I said.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Could be. More like a test.”

“Is that all? Does eating and sleeping count?”

“Depends. Eating and sleeping can be fun.” I was living dangerously, flirting in front of Gabe—or at least that’s what it felt like in my heart. In reality, this was what he’d brought me here to do. Even though I was hyperaware of his presence next to me, behind me since I was turned in my seat to face Tate, I knew he was listening even if with one ear. My heart racing like mad, I stepped it up.

“Is that right?” Tate said, his voice low, getting my flirtatious angle and responding with that manly gleam in his eye as if someone had turned on his testosterone switch.

“Yeah, it is. For instance, if you eat with someone—or sleep with someone—that could make life particularly interesting.”

My chest thudded at the warp speed I was moving. I had never so blatantly pitched a man to sleep with me in my life. Not unpredictably, Tate’s face lit up. But before he had a chance to answer, Gabe leaned in and spoke to him.

“What time do we have to be at the stadium tomorrow morning?”

Tate took in a long deep breath before answering, “Seven. Which you damn well know.”

“Be there at six. I have a few guys coming early. We’ll run sack drills.”

Tate looked at him long and hard and then nodded. He looked at me then, a boyish smile in place.

“It’s why he’s Mr. Football.”

“I got that impression. I bet he sleeps with his football,” I said.

Tate laughed. Gabe gave me a soft shove. As if I were one of the guys, only smaller and weaker. Maybe like a kid sister. He knew my place. About time I got my head around the fact that I belonged in any role except temptress. Moving closer to Tate, I resumed my flirtation with my date with more purpose.

“What did Gabe tell you about me? No, let me guess. He told you my mother is Michelle Day, the world-famous supermodel.”

“Sure, but that’s not what sold me.”

“No? What sold you?”

“It was the way he said it. The admiration in his voice. I knew if he wasn’t already pussy-whipped by a stunner of his own, he would want you for himself. That’s what sold me.”

If my tension had me palpitating before, I should have been worried about a stroke about then, the way my heart raced and bobbed. Gabe was talking with his brother. I could hear him behind me, hear their loud conversation as I leaned closer still to Tate so that I was practically whispering in his ear.

“Don’t worry. That’ll never happen. His stunner, Denise, is my best friend from college.”

“I wasn’t worried.” The way he said it suggested that he might change his mind if I kept talking, so I shut up, tried to breathe, kept my focus on his beautiful eyes. I reached a hand up and touched his jaw, stroked my finger along that strong line to his chin, the corner of his mouth. His lips looked very kissable and I planned to test them out.