Quarterback Draw Read online

  He dragged his gaze away from the couple and planted it firmly on her, those gray eyes of his turning stormy dark with desire. He laid his arm across the rear of her chair, his fingers lightly teasing the back of her neck.

  And then he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

  The contact was electrifying.

  "That's why he can't keep his hands off her, Kat. He wants her. This whole touching and leaning thing in the bar is foreplay. He wants to get her up to the room as soon as possible so he can take her clothes off and run his hands and mouth over every inch of her skin, to see if she tastes as delicious as she smells."

  Katrina's breath caught.

  "You smell like something exotic, a musky, enticing scent I can't quite put my finger on."

  He pressed his lips to the side of her neck. She let out a small gasp, and shivers popped up on her skin.

  "But I'd like to put my mouth on you. All over you, Kat, until you screamed my name."

  She swallowed, her throat gone dry. She lifted her glass to her lips, her hand shaking as she did, then took a sip to coat her throat.

  "Do you want that?" he asked.

  "I ... no. I don't."

  He kissed the side of her neck again. "Okay."

  Then he straightened, picked up his glass, and downed the rest of his whiskey in one shot.

  "Point out someone else and tell me what you think."

  He seemed calm and together, whereas she was an utter wreck. Her nipples were tight points of aching, screaming need, her clit was throbbing and her panties were damp. She was turned on and ready to straddle him right there in the bar, ready to beg him to give her the orgasm she so desperately craved.

  And he, Mr. Oblivious, calmly watched everyone else in the bar, completely out of tune with her needs.

  Or was he? She casually glanced downward and saw one very impressive erection.

  Which only made her own dilemma worse, especially when she pulled her gaze back to his face and caught his knowing smile.

  Damn man.

  "I have to go," she said.

  "Do you?"

  "Yes. I have to pack and ... things."

  "Okay. Don't want to keep you from your ... things." He signaled for the waiter, who brought the check. By the time Grant had signed off on the bar tab and stood, whatever impressive hard-on he'd sprouted had dissipated, much to Katrina's disappointment.

  He stood, and so did she, following him outside the bar.

  In the lobby, he stopped and turned to her. "Come up to my room. Spend the night with me."

  For a fraction of a second, her spirits soared. She'd been surprisingly deflated when he'd cut off their teasing banter so easily in the bar. She appreciated his being a gentleman and all, but at the same time, she'd been disappointed, too.

  Conflicted much, Katrina?

  No. She knew where her responsibilities were, and they weren't in Grant Cassidy's bed. She forced herself to remember the reason she was independent. And all the reasons she didn't want a man in her life.

  "I can't."

  He nodded, then slid his hands up her arms. "I understand. Can't say I'm not disappointed about that."

  She wanted to say she was, too, but those were dangerous waters, and she wasn't about to wade into them. She was in way over her head already.

  "Thank you again for tonight."

  "I'll walk you out and hail you a taxi."

  "It's not necessary."

  He shook his head. "Come on."

  He slid his fingers in hers, and she was surprised to find how much she liked the feel of his big hand in hers. She was tall, and she dwarfed most men. With Grant, she felt ... small. A bit unusual, but she had to admit she liked it.

  He signaled for the valet to hail a taxi.

  "I'll see you next week in St. Louis?"

  "I'm going to be awfully busy with work and--"

  Before she could finish, he'd slid his hands around her neck and his mouth was on hers. It was a soft, but demanding kiss, and she fell into it easily, her hands resting on the solid warmth of his wide chest.

  It only lasted a few seconds, but God, she wanted so much more. When he pulled back, she licked her lips, tasting whiskey.

  "Think about me when you're at home doing ... things."

  His lips curved as he tucked one of her curls behind her ear.

  He walked her to the taxi and leaned in after she got inside.

  "And I will see you next week in St. Louis, Kat."

  He shut the door and the taxi pulled away.

  She wanted to turn around and look to see if he was still standing there watching, but for some reason, she knew he was.

  She had no idea what she was going to do about Grant Cassidy.

  Keeping him out of her thoughts and out of her life was proving more and more difficult all the time.

  TWELVE

  KATRINA HAD SPENT THE PAST TWENTY-FOUR HOURS making care arrangements with the au pair to watch over Leo and Anya, who'd argued they were far too old for a babysitter and could handle spending a week alone.

  Ha. She could only imagine the parties and the trouble those two could get into unsupervised. Once Cerissa showed up, Katrina had packed, taken her flight to St. Louis, and gotten settled into her hotel. First thing Monday morning she'd met with the photographer and the rest of the team.

  They were doing a wedding shoot at the Jewel Box for one of the bridal magazines. She had the cover photo, and would be showcasing some of the features inside the magazine, so it was a pretty big deal, and she'd have several dresses to wear. Typically she didn't give much thought to the outfits, but she rarely had the opportunity to model bridal wear. It was going to be a fun shoot.

  Plus, the location was gorgeous. The Jewel Box was a greenhouse in one of the parks in the city, and her manager told her it was listed on the National Register of Historic Places. She'd looked it up while she was in her hotel room last night, and couldn't wait to start the shoot today.

  When she arrived on scene, she was whisked over to hair and makeup and spent a couple of hours there having makeup applied and her hair curled. They started out with her hair down, which went well with the strapless designer gown. It was an ivory satin full ball gown, luxurious and a striking complement to the gorgeous Jewel Box, with its Art Deco cantilevered design. They did the first pictures outside. It was the perfect day from a production standpoint. Though quite hot, little to no breeze helped to keep the dress and other paraphernalia in place. They had to stop in between the shots though, to keep patting her down to erase any sheen. The dress was ultra heavy and not at all suited for outside August weather in St. Louis, but she handled it just fine.

  Fortunately, the photographer was quick, and before Kat knew it, she was out of that dress and into the next, this time a lovely white lace A-line with sleeves. She was lucky this series of photographs would be taken inside, next to some of the most beautiful flowers she'd ever seen. They'd redesigned her hair for these photos, pulling it up so it was off her shoulders. After all, the lace on her shoulders and down her arms had to be seen.

  After a couple of hours of various poses in that dress, they were finished for the day.

  She went back to her hotel and showered off the heavy makeup, washing the excess product out of her hair. She let her hair air-dry outside on the balcony of her hotel room while she talked on the phone to Cerissa, who told her everything at home was fine. Leo was working out a lot and Anya was, as typical, always on the phone or with her friends.

  At least she didn't have to worry about the kids. After she hung up, she grabbed a book she'd started in the middle of her flight to St. Louis and spent about an hour reading. When her phone rang, she put the book down and looked at the display.

  It was Grant. She thought about ignoring his call, but that would be rude. Not that she wasn't an expert at rudeness, but he'd been so nice to her and the kids, so she at least owed him an answer to his call.

  "Hello, Grant."

  "Hi. How was your shoot t
oday?"

  "It went well, thank you. What did you do today?"

  "Not much. Day off, so I worked out and cleaned my garage."

  She tried to get a mental visual of him working in his garage. All sweaty, maybe his shirt off.

  More dangerous thoughts.

  "I see. Sounds relaxing, I suppose."

  "I was thinking of barbecuing some chicken for dinner and wanted to invite you over."

  She couldn't imagine him doing that, either. "Oh, well, I have an early call tomorrow, so ..."

  She wanted to let him off easy. She'd thought a lot about him--about that kiss he'd given her the other night. She was attracted to him. Too attracted.

  It was time to back away.

  "I promise to have you back to your hotel in time for curfew. Whatever time that is. I'd really like to see you, Kat."

  Well ... crap. And the problem was, she wanted to see him, too.

  Wasn't that the problem?

  She should say no. End this, before things got even more complicated than they already were.

  But the words spilled out of her mouth before she had a chance to pull them back. "Sure. What time?"

  So much for listening to her inner voice.

  "How about I pick you up ... uh, let's say about four o'clock?"

  "That sounds fine. I'll be outside so you don't have to park."

  "Okay. I'll call you when I'm close so you don't have to linger outside too long. See you then."

  She hung up, then stared at her phone.

  Clearly, there was something wrong with her. Normally, she had no problem saying no to men. She said no all the time, because she got asked out all the time. She'd said no politely, and not so politely, depending on who was asking. She was an expert at turning men down.

  But for some reason, she hadn't yet figured out how to say no to Grant Cassidy.

  Maybe she should stop thinking of all the reasons to say no. Maybe she'd let her fears guide her for too long. Grant was gorgeous and hot, and of all the men she'd ever been tempted by, he was the most--

  Tempting.

  She'd thought a lot about her conversation with Savannah, about having some fun.

  Grant could definitely be fun. Not a forever thing, but a temporary fling. Or at least a gorgeous man to hang out with.

  There was absolutely nothing threatening about that.

  THIRTEEN

  AFTER HE'D GOTTEN OFF THE PHONE WITH KATRINA, Grant had spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning his house.

  The place was a wreck. As a bachelor, he didn't much care what it looked like on most days, unless his parents were coming for a visit. Then he usually brought in a cleaning service to scour the place from top to bottom, because if there was one thing his mom didn't stand for, it was a messy house. When he'd lived at home, as soon as you were old enough to hold a broom in your hand, empty trash, or do dishes, you had a chore, and it didn't matter if you were a guy or a girl. Mom wanted everyone to grow up and be able to fend for themselves. Even cooking.

  He was grateful he'd been taught to cook, though he'd sworn when he'd stood at the stove and was taught to make pasta sauce that someday he was going to eat takeout every single night for the rest of his natural life. That lasted until he'd eaten takeout for two weeks straight. Didn't take him long to figure out that fast food every night got boring fast and maybe his mother was smarter than he'd ever given her credit for.

  But he'd never really grabbed the virtue of keeping the house neat. He had a cleaning lady come in once every two weeks so mold didn't grow in places it wasn't supposed to. Otherwise, he threw his dirty socks on the floor and dishes tended to pile up. When he ran out of usable dishes, he washed them. It was a system that worked for him, and unless he had someone coming over, who cared, right?

  Like today, with Katrina. It had been a week since the cleaning service had been to the house so he was going to have to do it himself.

  So he'd scrubbed the toilets and wiped down the counters in the bathrooms, loaded the dishwasher, and thoroughly cleaned the kitchen, then vacuumed the entire house, picking up everything that he'd carelessly tossed in all the wrong places.

  It had taken him a couple of hours, and by then he was a sweaty filthy mess, which he'd already been after working in the garage, so he'd taken a shower and put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then hopped in his car to pick up Katrina at her hotel.

  He called her on his way over and she was waiting outside as they'd arranged. Her hair was down and she wore a sundress that showed off miles of gorgeous leg, and he was struck again by how beautiful she was. She was leaning against the valet desk, casually smiling and chatting with some dark-haired kid who couldn't be more than eighteen or nineteen.

  The kid was obviously trying not to swallow his tongue as Katrina tucked her hair behind her ear. It was a simple gesture, yet the kid's gaze tracked the movement like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen in his young life.

  Grant understood the appeal. Everything about Katrina was pretty damn riveting, and she did have an ear he'd like to tug on with his teeth.

  He got out of the car and waved off the valet, no doubt crushing the kid's dreams.

  Too bad. He could go get his own girl. This one was his date for the night.

  Katrina turned when Grant approached.

  "Sorry. I was talking to Gregori here. He and his family emigrated from Russia just two years ago. I was practicing my very rusty Russian on him. Thank you again, Gregori. And best of luck to you in college."

  Gregori nodded, and Grant watched the kid swallow nervously, smile, and walk away.

  Poor kid. He might not ever recover from meeting Katrina. Then again, it might be something he remembered forever. Grant gave the kid a wink and a smile.

  From the same country or not, the kid was still ogling the hell out of her.

  He led Katrina to his car, opened the door and waited for her to slide in.

  He put the car into gear and pulled away, onto the street, heading onto the highway.

  Katrina was quiet, looking out the window, so he told her a little about the city.

  "You're not from here," she said.

  "No. My family's from Texas. My parents have a ranch there. I grew up in Green Bay, where my dad played football. In the off-season we lived on the ranch."

  "I see. But you live here, right?"

  "Yeah. When I signed with St. Louis during my rookie year, I fell in love with this city. I bought my house the year I made the team."

  She pulled her gaze from the window. "How long ago was that?"

  "Six years ago."

  She nodded. "From what I've seen, it's a very nice city. A lot of space here."

  "I'll show you around this week."

  "That's not necessary. I'm sure you're very busy."

  His lips curved. "But I want to. This is where I live, Katrina. I want you to see it."

  "Oh, of course. Then thank you."

  He wasn't certain her hesitation was just politeness. He should find out before he took this any further.

  "Do you have a boyfriend?"

  Her gaze snapped to his. "No."

  "Okay."

  "Why would you ask that question? I wouldn't be seeing you if I did. I wouldn't kiss you if I did. I would never--"

  "Calm down, Kat. I only asked the question because you're always so reluctant to spend any time with me. And I know it's not because you don't like me."

  She let out a laugh. "Of course. Because what woman wouldn't like you? You being so irresistible and all."

  He shot her a grin. "I know, right?"

  "No problem with your ego, is there?"

  "None that I'm aware of."

  He pulled off the highway and drove several blocks toward his neighborhood.

  "This is a very nice area," she said. "I love the seclusion of it, and all the trees."

  He pulled onto his street. "There was something about this area I liked a lot when I was out looking at houses to buy," he said. "There
were a lot of families in the neighborhood. Plus there's a park and a lake and it's in a very good school district. And then when I saw the house, I knew I had to have it."

  When he pulled up into the driveway and parked, she turned to him. "You talk about kids and stuff. Is there something I should know?"

  "Like?"

  "Like maybe an ex-wife and some kids you haven't told me about?"

  He laughed and unbuckled his seat belt. "No. Just thinking about the future. I don't intend to house hop. I figured at some point I'll get married and have some kids. This seems like a good place to do that."

  Katrina gaped at the house, the big front yard and the impressive neighborhood. Living in Manhattan, space was always at a premium. She loved her apartment, and it was spacious by New York City standards, but this was spectacular.

  It was a two-story stone house with a dark roof. There were a lot of windows flanked by gorgeous white shutters. It was huge, yet welcoming at the same time. The front yard was immense, with a lot of lush green grass, tall trees, and shrubs.

  "Did you do all this landscaping?" she asked as he walked with her to the front door.

  "Some of it. My mom suggested the flowers after I moved in. She said the front landscaping needed some color or something like that. She and my sister ordered them and had them delivered, and my dad and brothers and I put them in."

  "Your mother is right. It would have looked barren without some color."

  "Yeah, so they told me--repeatedly." He hit the button on the garage door, which lifted to reveal a big truck in the garage.

  She looked at the truck, then over at him. "Yes, you strike me as a truck guy."

  "What exactly is a 'truck guy'?"

  "Manly. Testosterone. That kind of thing."

  "I'm going to take that as a compliment."

  She smiled. "You do that."

  He led her through a door into the house, which was so much cooler than outside.

  It smelled like cleaning products--piney and lemony. He must have cleaned today before coming to pick her up.

  How sweet.

  And utterly unexpected.

  Inside was spacious and light, with a lot of windows and very cool tile. The kitchen was magnificent--definitely a cook's paradise, with a large island and a six-burner stove.

  The living area was the same, with amazing dark hardwood floors, and windows overlooking a woodsy backyard.