Once Her Man, Always Her Man(2)
He really had no idea why, either. Curvy as hell, she filled out her shirts and jeans beautifully and he loved wrapping his arms around her. She felt real against him. The one time he’d gotten her shirt off, he’d gaped at the sweet roundness of her breasts peeking out over the simple white bra. Her nipples stiffened under the fabric, dark and dusky. He’d damn near choked on his own drool at the thought of being able to touch them with his lips.
Maybe after homecoming.
“What are you thinking about?” She set her bag down on the riser next to his.
“You.” He admitted. “Naked.”
She laughed. “You need to think about your end zone and running backs and whatever it is they were doing that got you tackled yesterday.”
And her lack of knowledge about football never stopped her from coming to practice and showing up at every game, even the away ones, to cheer him on. When they’d made divisional the previous year, only strep throat kept her home. Worried about her, he’d sucked hard during that game.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to think about their butts or how they look naked.”
Her cheeks pinkened, a ripe, sweet color and his heart jerked and shook like a dog with a toy.
The coach whistled, done with their dawdling.
“See you in an hour?”
“I’ll be right here.” She pointed at the risers. “Reading your paper.”
“Love you.” His voice dropped, not because it embarrassed him to say it or worried that someone might overhear, but because loving Rebecca was a privilege, his privilege and he sure as shit didn’t plan on sharing it with the team.
“I love you, too.” She mouthed the words, but they drove right into him and lit his insides. Her love honored him. Blowing him a kiss, she shooed him away. He jogged out to meet the team, sure she kept his heart as safe and sound as his homework.
***
“Rebecca.” He barely managed to mouth her name. Just like that, the jaunt in his step faltered, his heart stuttered and he half-turned to head back out the door. The valet probably hadn’t even parked his car yet.
That’s the coward’s way out.
Luke Dexter wasn’t a coward.
Not anymore.
He thought back to the all-too-knowing text message. Life doesn’t always offer a second chance….
Walk out the door and run away—again—or walk across the floor of the Sybarite and take his chance?
I’m through running.
Rebecca Rainier glanced at her watch. She’d had some crazy clients over the years, but Delilah Swanson had to be the most eccentric. Becca began her event planning business in college and Rainier’s Intimate Introductions catered to the concept that people needed intimate situations to celebrate, meet, and mark special moments in their lives. She’d split her time between classes and meetings, carrying her supplies, her notes and her files around in the trunk of her car.
After graduation, Delilah made her an offer. She forwarded the financing for a storefront, let Rebecca choose her own clients, save for the once a year soiree Delilah hosted for a handpicked guest list. The ideal silent partner, she maintained a tidy investment, even after Rebecca paid off the initial stake.
For five years, she did exactly as she pleased, planning birthday parties, welcome home parties, wakes, weddings, and everything in between. This year’s grand shindig for Delilah sent Becca to the Sybarite Club in Dallas, only a few miles from where she’d grown up.
If it had been anyone else, she would have said no. But Delilah insisted that no life outside of work would impact her career more than she could imagine, so she’d let her not-so-silent partner sign her up for the 1Night Stand dating service. Delilah chose the Sybarite Club for the meeting, she knew the guys who ran it and that guaranteed her a measure of security. Instead of a huge party on some far-flung island or cruise ship, she waited for the man of the hour.
Delilah’s text had been specific: The Sybarite Club, nine PM., wear a forest green dress. She’d even sent a silver bracelet for her to wear for luck and love. The simple band shackling her wrist was heavier than most of the pieces she favored, but its weight comforted and warmed her.
A mournful melody of horn, piano and guitar tugged her back from the past—a place she rarely ventured anymore. She’d give her partner’s crazy idea another half hour. The white wine, the intimate atmosphere and the jazz were certainly worth another half hour of her time.
Maybe the guy chickened out.
Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time.
A delicious scent of woodsy vanilla stroked across her senses, locking every muscle in her body. Tension knitted a chain of knots up her spine. Trembling, she set the wine glass down before spilling it. The scent teased her, conjuring memories of high school, football and love. Tears clogged her throat, and the colorful collection of liquors on the bar back rippled as the curtain shrouding her heart ripping away.