Page 44 of Love Game

“I can see that.” He stood there, naked and silent, watching her every move as she transferred the lukewarm pie to the pan and slid it into the oven.

She straightened, trying not to feel so terribly nude, but it was hard to play it cool when she was hyperaware of every bump, bulge, and unsightly scar. It was easier to do when she caught sight of the blatant admiration in his frank gaze.

The corner of his mouth lifted in that familiar smirk. “I guess I’m lucky to have skills in at least one area.”

Her lips twitched, but she did her best to keep her expression sober. “Oh, I’d say you might have two.”

“Is one of them football?”

“Of course.”

“And the other?”

She fixed him with an unsmiling stare. “Is not football.”

“So I’ve got that going for me.” He raised his bottle in a silent toast.

Relieved that he didn’t force her to expound, she picked at the foil label with her thumbnail as she searched for a neutral topic of conversation. A thousand questions came to mind—everything from politics to books to coaching strategies and motivational techniques. In the end, she blurted, “What’s your favorite color?”

Danny smiled, but his customary flash of teeth widened and warmed in direct proportion to the sizzle of embarrassment in her cheeks. “Green. What’s yours?”

“Blue.” It wasn’t true. She liked red, but with his eyes locked on her, there was no other answer she could give. “I mean red,” she amended, turning to grab an oven mitt.

“You’re decisive. I like that.”

Slipping her hand into the padded mitt was comforting. She wasn’t completely naked anymore, and that made her brave. “And I like a man who’s helpful in the kitchen. Grab some plates, will you?”

He snickered, opened the oven door, pulled out the pizza, and dumped the entire thing back into its box. “Plates? What are you, some kind of girl or something?”

“Not a girl,” she retorted, liking the way he tried to bait her. It almost made her forget she was standing in her kitchen totally naked. But she couldn’t forget, so she figured she might as well use her nudity to her advantage. “I don’t know if you noticed, but what you see before you is over seventy-four inches of grown woman.”

“Oh, I noticed,” he grumbled. Closing the lid on the box, he dropped his half-empty bottle into the six-pack carrier again and gave her a playful but surprisingly effective come-hither stare. “Come back to bed, Kate. I feel weird standing in the kitchen naked.”

* * *

“You done yet?”

Danny shot her the glare that made three-hundred-pound linebackers quiver in their cleats. “Just what every man likes to hear in bed.”

She was a picture of wide-eyed innocence. “I’m just asking.”

He glanced down at the pizza box between them. She’d eaten exactly two slices. He’d demolished over half but still wanted more. More pizza. More of her. More lying naked in her bed, propped up on both pillows and dangling a warmish bottle of beer from his fingers.

“One more.” He deftly snagged another piece, too quick to let her chop off his hand with the cardboard guillotine she’d made of the box lid.

She shook her head and slid off the bed, dragging the boxed remains over rumpled sheets. “Just when I was starting to like you, you go and make me hate you again.”

“You don’t hate me.”

“You need to grow a gut like any decent man your age,” she muttered.

He offered a guileless smile when she looked back from the bedroom doorway. “I need fuel. You’re too much for me.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

He chuckled as he chewed. Though she made noises about watching what she ate, from where he was sitting, he saw no hint of the self-consciousness she’d shown earlier. She moved with the ease and grace of the athlete she still was, all toned muscle and silky-smooth skin.

Except for the scars on her knee. Battle scars. Badges of honor.

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