Page 45 of Play for Keeps

Her grip on the rail tightened. So did the knot in her stomach. Deep down inside, she didn’t want to go home to a frozen dinner and her laptop. She wanted him to ask. Nicely. Ask her out like a real date, not pick her up at a bar, take her home, and make her see stars. “You didn’t ask if I wanted to,” she pointed out.

“Wanted to?” He looked truly perplexed, then completely panicked. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to what?”

Millie saw the flash of horror in his eyes and raised her hand to his cheek. “No, not that. I fully consented to the sex, Ty. What I’m saying is, you didn’taskif I wanted to have dinner with you.”

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked with cautious precision.

She leaned in and caught his mouth in a soft, lingering kiss. His eyes were hooded as she pulled back, but the embers in them flared. “Yes to the food,” she said, nipping any other ideas he might have in the bud. Taking his hand, she curled her arm until their clasped palms rested square in the small of her back. “Funny. Suddenly, I have the worst craving for Thai…Ty.”

Chapter 11

Ty made a point of focusing on the wineglass he’d placed on the countertop in front of her. If his gaze strayed a few inches down, he’d get an eyeful of long, lean thigh. If he looked up, he’d start obsessing about how few buttons Millie closed on the shirt she’d commandeered from his closet. She’d picked a bottle of white from the cooler built into the bar setup. Ty wasn’t a big fan of sweet wines, but Millie insisted the Riesling would be the perfect complement to the spicy duck and shrimp pad Thai they’d ordered, and he wasn’t about to argue with her. The woman had one toe on the starting line, and she was waiting for him to slip up so she could beat a path on out the door.

He filled another glass for himself, then toasted her. “To ground rules.”

Millie looked up from the array of cartons she was opening. Her eyes widened with appreciation, then narrowed as she wound her fingers around the stem of her own glass. “You’re awfully gung ho about these rules.” She touched her glass to his, then quirked an eyebrow. “How do you know you’ll like them?”

He fell back against the opposite counter as she dished up their dinner. Squelching the urge to yelp when the cool granite made contact with the bare skin above his waistband, he crossed one leg over the other and drank in the details of her. Smiling into his glass, he took the obligatory sip to seal the toast. “I don’t have to like a rule to play by it.”

He’d already proven his willingness to adapt, so Millie suggested they shower while they waited for supper. Unfortunately, she also insisted they do so separately for the sake of expedience. A waste of time and water, as far as he was concerned, but she obviously wanted a little space, and he wasn’t about to push her.

Looking at her now, he was glad she’d suggested the short hiatus. The breather had allowed him time to gather his wits before facing her again. Good thing, because she looked so damn good he was about to take a bite out of her. Her skin was rosy. He caught a whiff of his soap on her skin each time she moved. Her hair was damp. Dime-sized splotches darkened the fabric where water had dripped on her shoulders, and one intrepid streak pointed the way to the crest of her right breast. Lucky drop.

Of course, all he could do the whole time he was in the guest bath was picture her in his shower, her hands splayed on the tile wall as water spewed from the multiple jets to rush over her slender curves. He could picture her nipples—red, ripe, and hard as cherry pits. Soap suds running down the shallow valley between her breasts and tangling in the tight curls between her legs. Yeah. He spent a fast three minutes under a cool spray getting the cleanup job done as fast as he possibly could without resorting to jacking off.

Now, he was scrubbed up and partially clad in a pair of sweats, but his thoughts were anything but clean. He wanted to get whatever was bothering her out in the open so he could take her back to his room and mess her up again as soon as possible.

“I think the occasional hand check is an important part of any effective defense,” he said. “No one wants to play zone all the time.”

Millie smirked and pushed an empty plate across to him. “I’m not your mama. You know what that means?” She didn’t bother giving him a chance to answer. “Two things. I don’t have to fill your plate, and I don’t have to pretend I know what your sports talk means.”

Ty laughed and pushed away from the counter with his hips. “If you’re not my mama, why do I have to call you ma’am?”

She grinned as she twirled a fork in a bed of noodles. “Because I like when you do. Makes me feel extra naughty, and you like when I feel extra naughty, don’t you?”

Setting his glass aside, he set to the task of filling his plate with singular efficiency. “Yes, ma’am.”

He felt her eyes on him but studiously avoided looking up. She was the one who wanted to talk. If Ty knew one thing, it was strategy. No point in initiating a conversation that wasn’t going to give him the result he wanted, so he hung back. He was okay with waiting her out. He hadn’t expected to get everything he wanted from Millie right away. He’d woo her with plenty of sex and wine over the stretch of a few weeks, months, or even years if time was the deciding factor. He’d always been good at working the game clock.

Millie shoveled the tightly wound forkful into her mouth and chewed, a tiny frown appearing between her brows. “This can’t be a relationship.”

Picking up his plate, he fell back against the counter once more, needing the time and distance to put the lid on the slow simmer starting to bubble inside him. “I thought it already was.”

“Not arelationshiprelationship,” she said, as if repeating the word clarified everything.

“Okay.” He drew the word out, but he figured he was entitled to a little dramatic effect if she was going to be issuing proclamations. “Let me ask this… Why not? I have no morals clause like Danny’s in my contract, and even if I did, we both know ways around those pesky clauses.”

The reference to the morals clause that gave the football coach such a hard time in establishing his relationship with Kate Snyder made Millie stiffen. Kate and Danny had circumvented disaster with a marriage license and a quick trip to the courthouse. The abject horror in her expression told him Millie wasn’t itching to be a loophole bride.

“Not even up for discussion,” she said dismissively, but her posture remained stiff.

“I’m involved too, and I say we open the debate.” Impervious to her glare, Ty plowed ahead. “Why can’t this be a relationship?”

Millie stopped, the tines of her fork buried in the pile of noodles but unmoving. At last, she lifted her head and met his gaze. “Because I don’t want one.”

Her bluntness shouldn’t have shocked him, but it did. Her answer landed like an elbow to the solar plexus, but he’d been a pro for too long to let any sign of weakness show. He nodded as he processed her declaration. “Okay.”

“But we can have sex.”

---