Page 13 of Quarterback Sneak

Her own fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, eager to explore every bump and hollow.

The blare of a mariachi band somewhere nearby stilled her hands. She pushed herself from him, panting. “What the heck is that?”

“It’s Howler’s ringtone.” He rubbed at his temples and sighed. “His choice, not mine.”

The cheerful song grated on her nerves and a part of her wanted to chuck the damn thing into the Sound. Her pragmatic side whispered that the interruption was for the best. Things were steaming ahead at an accelerated pace and the line between an emotional connection and sexual chemistry had been blurred since the first moment she’d touched him. Sex would make things more complicated than they already were.

“You’d better answer it.” Without waiting for his response, she tucked the blanket around her bared chest and climbed off him. She grabbed up the phone from where Sam had tossed it and handed it to him before she discreetly fixed her top.

Lines of frustration etched his forehead as he answered the phone with a harsh, “What?”

“Damn, you’re awfully bitchy this morning. I take it you didn’t get any last night.” Howler’s voice projected through the mouthpiece. The man had a set of lungs.

Ivy returned to her place by his side and rested her head on his shoulder, the blanket a protective cocoon inhibiting further invitation on her part and exploration on his. Neither one of them might like it, but it proved necessary to bring things to a cooler level.

“What do you want, asshole?” Sam asked.

Booming laughter met his response. “Then the answer is no.”

One strong arm looped around her waist and Ivy melted into him, desire resting just shy of the surface, ready to rebelliously break out. Would she be able to deny her own growing passion or would she say fuck it, and jump the guy like the sex-starved woman inside of her begged to do?

“I’m sitting here with Ivy now,” Sam said.

“Oh, so I did interrupt something? Nice.”

Sam flashed Ivy an exasperated look before he adjusted the phone in his hand. “You are such a dick. What do you want?”

By the repeated laughter from the other end of the line, Howler wasn’t insulted. “Did you forget we have a plane to catch today? The team is sending a chartered jet to Boeing Field.”

“They didn’t have to do that. We can fly commercial.”

“No, my man, we can’t. You’re a big deal whether you want to be or not. Besides, you’ve been after my ass to keep you on the down low. Of course, once you hit Cali soil, the cat will be out of the bag, so to speak. But you’re not the only one going. I have a new client, a quarterback out of some Podunk town in Eastern Washington. The team wants to meet him. He’s bringing his parents. The mom had him young. She’s in her late thirties with great tits and a nice ass. The dad’s a piece of work. A real fuckhead. Lucky for me, they’re divorced and she’s free game.”

“Do you think it wise to mix business with pleasure?”

“Shit no. I’m representing her son, not her. If she’s willing, I’m willing to fu—”

“My girlfriend is sitting right here, listening to what you’re saying. Why don’t you put a filter on it?” Sam grinned, despite his earlier irritation. He cupped the mouthpiece with his hand. “I warned you he was an ass, but he’s also a decent guy most of the time.”

“Since she works in a kitchen, I’m pretty sure she’s heard worse. Right, Ivy?” Howler asked.

“Right,” she absently agreed, her mind still reeling from Sam’s comment. Was she his girlfriend? The image warmed her entire being, and unexpected tears welled up. She blinked them back. Given her conversation with Sam from the night before about the paparazzi, even that small commitment might be too soon. Was she ready to pledge herself to him and face the inevitable nightmare, or should she run and never look back? Either way, she had a difficult decision to make.

Chapter Six

Sam boarded the private jet and ducked to avoid hitting his head on the sloping bulkhead. Howler was already on board, a glass of scotch in his hand while he flirted with an overly made up redhead in a skimpy green dress more suitable for a nightclub than travel.

The jet boasted eight seats on one side and a long couch on the other. Occupying the closest seats were two men. The younger, around twenty, had a huge, powerful frame and a baby face under a mop of blond hair.

“Meet the Paulson family. Jake is my client. Lyle and Jane are his parents.” Howler made the introductions in an overly boisterous tone that contradicted the uneasiness in his voice. He hated flying and usually ended up shit-faced before they even took off. Apparently, today was no different.

The woman met Sam’s gaze, a sly smile parting her overly plump lips. There was a marked interest in her stare, one he recognized too well. He kept his own smile polite but not overly friendly and offered her a nod, certain to give her no encouragement. He had no romantic interest in any woman other than Ivy.

“Knute, man, I can’t believe I get to meet you!” Jake said, standing to shake his hand. “Last year’s twenty-yard pass against the Giants in the last second of the game was unbelievable. I hope we can be on the same team.” His rather close-set eyes gleamed with genuine excitement. “I—”

Lyle rose and elbowed his son. He was equally as tall, and hulking like a bodybuilder with the same straw-colored hair. “He’s your competition, bonehead. You’ll never get to start with a guy like that on the team unless you man up.”

Jake’s jovial smile dropped.

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