The Billion Dollar Player(3)

“You’re going to appreciate these home movies come next week. Especially when I decide to throw an outside right pass.”

Translation: give me any more shit and you won’t even touch the ball next game. “Have I ever mentioned how much I love the fact that you watch so much game footage? I mean—”

“All Occasions Catering. Now get lost.”

“Thanks,” Jase said as he headed for the door. “See you at practice tomorrow.”

“Don’t be late!” Carson called after him. “Cuz we’re going to the Super Bowl, baby!”

Another reason why Jase loved Carson: his unfailing optimism.

∗∗∗

Throwing together yet another last-minute party wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Especially since most of the people he’d invited had already been to one of the three he’d thrown last week or they had other plans. What had started out as a full-on bash was now more like a dinner party on steroids. Just a little bigger and bulkier than you might expect. Definitely not the sort of shindig that would warrant a handful of waitresses. Of course, just like for the past three parties, there was only one waitress that Jase wanted in attendance tonight.

He’d requested her again specifically and since the team—and now Jase—had thrown a lot of business their way, the caterer had assured Jase that Avery would be there without question. Jesus, he was nervous as a newborn calf, all wobbly legs and unsure steps. Twice already tonight he’d tripped on his own damned feet and he doubted that would do much to make an impression.

Unless he was planning to send her running the other way.

At half past six, the caterers arrived, carrying in boxes full of food that made Jase’s stomach growl. He’d requested good old-fashioned Texas barbeque tonight, the kind like his mom used to make. Brisket, beans, potato salad, and cornbread. Tailgating food.

“I swear, I’ve been here so many times in the past week, I feel like this is my own kitchen. I don’t even have to ask where the plates and silverware are anymore. I’ll go ahead and get the table set.”

Jase looked over at the caterer—Penny? No, Peyton. He’d been preoccupied, searching for one face in particular. “Sorry, what was that?”

Peyton repeated herself, but again Jase didn’t hear a word. Avery walked into the kitchen beside another woman, each of them carrying a cardboard box. His gut clenched tight and his mouth went dry. Damn, just the sight of her sent him reeling, like the rush of taking a shot of top-shelf bourbon. He was drunk on nothing more than her nearness.

“Mr. Blackwell?” the caterer gave him a quizzical look.

“Sorry?” Jesus, he wasn’t doing much to come across as a guy who had his shit together. He forced his gaze from Avery and let Peyton lead him toward the patio. Right, she’d asked something about where he’d wanted her to set up the buffet. “I’ve got tables ready to go over here.”

∗∗∗

“I think someone has a crush,” Kristie whispered in a singsong tone into Avery’s ear. Her stomach was slowly clawing its way to her throat and no matter how many times she swallowed, she couldn’t seem to get rid of the lump.

“I seriously doubt that,” Avery replied with a grin. “Just because he asked me out once, doesn’t mean he meant anything by it. He only took pity on me because I’d made a fool out of myself.”

“Uh-huh. Right.” Kristie’s rueful tone rang out in the expansive kitchen that gleamed with polished granite and stainless steel appliances. It was the sort of gourmet layout that was every aspiring chef’s dream. She’d kill for a kitchen like this. “This is the guy’s fourth dinner party in just over a week, Avery. And Peyton told me that he’s requested that you work every single one. I doubt it was your superior serving skills that put you at the top of his list.”

“Ha. Ha. Thanks.” Avery knew she wasn’t the world’s most graceful person. Her middle name was klutz. And as a server, she sucked. She’d taken this job with the hopes that Peyton would eventually put her in the kitchen doing what she loved most: creating culinary masterpieces. But so far, she’d done little more than arrange hors d’oeuvres on serving platters. Not exactly fulfilling her life’s ambition. “I think you’re wrong, but I’m not going to complain about the extra hours. It’ll be a nice pad to my paycheck.”

“Oh, I’m not wrong,” Kristie replied. “And I think I owe you a big thank you. Four Dallas Cowboys parties in less than a week. Bring on the man candy!”

From the French doors that led out to the patio, Jase Blackwell stared over the heads of everyone in the kitchen, those light-brown eyes zeroed in on her. A pleasant shiver rippled from the top of Avery’s head and slid down her spine. His back had been turned to her when she’d first walked into the kitchen, but even so, her heart fluttered when she’d recognized the defined muscles, the curve of his neck, and shock of tawny hair that was just the right amount of messy. When he turned and noticed her? Her knees had buckled. His effect on her was undeniable.

After a week of thinking of nothing but the sexy football star, how pathetic was it that she’d known him with his back turned to her? Their gazes locked and his lips spread into a slow smile. It was that wicked, confident, I-get-what-I-want-when-I-want-it expression that had nearly curled Avery’s toes when they’d first met.

“Look at the size of his hands,” Kristie said under her breath as she started to unload the boxes. “How would you like to have those palms cupped around your ass?”

Avery could think of worse ways to spend an evening. “Pro ballers are notorious for screwing around.” It was better to remind herself of why Jase Blackwell was off-limits rather than entertain any fantasies about what it would be like to have his hands on her. “Would you really want to subject yourself to that sort of revolving-door hookup, Kristie?”

“He could revolve my door anytime.”

Avery laughed. “Gross.”

“What? Are you seriously trying to tell me that you wouldn’t let the Billion Dollar Blackwell ring your bell into the wee hours of the morning if you had the chance?”

She’d had the chance. Sort of. And she’d sent him packing. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t you feel self-conscious? I mean, the guy must get propositioned by hotties all the time.” Women a thousand times more put together than she was. “I’d be so worried about measuring up that I probably wouldn’t enjoy myself.”

“You’re a total hottie, Avery.” Kristie nudged her hip into Avery’s as she took the foil off a pan of sliced smoked brisket. “You already measure up.”

Avery wiped an imaginary tear from her eye and sniffed. “And that is why you’re my BFF.”

“Damn straight,” Kristie said. “A girl can dream, right? I say go for it, Avery. When are you ever going to get another opportunity like this again? Live a little! In fact, I dare you to go after him.”

Avery had never been one to back down from a challenge and Kristie knew it. She had to admit, she was tempted. What could it hurt to spend a little quality time with the gorgeous pro football star? As long as she went into it knowing that it would never be anything more than a casual one-night stand. She continued to ready serving platters for the night’s fifteen guests, and Avery was careful to keep her eyes on her work. The urge to look up, to search the kitchen for any sign of Jase was almost too hard to resist and she didn’t need to complicate her life by chasing after something that was out of her reach. But, oh man, she couldn’t help but think that a night with Jase Blackwell would be one she’d never forget.

“Okay, I think we’re ready to roll.” Avery’s boss, Peyton, breezed into the kitchen, a fluttering mass of excited energy. She loved her job and it showed, but Avery could have done without the hyperactive flapping of arms as she ushered her and Kristie toward the patio.

Here’s goes. Try not to spill anything … Nothing conveyed professionalism like dumping a plateful of barbeque on one of the dinner guests. But the second she walked out onto the tiled patio, her hands began to shake. Abort! Abort! Was it too late to turn around and head back for the kitchen? Probably. Damn it.

She felt Jase’s eyes on her without even having to look up to confirm the fact. His gaze burned through her, igniting all of her nerve endings until her skin tingled with a pleasant warmth that settled between her thighs. She tried again to remind herself why it wasn’t a good idea to give in to Jase Blackwell’s advances but her body was giving her a hell of a counterargument.

“Holy crap, Avery. He’s eyeballing you like you’re his next meal. Rawr.” Kristie nudged her with an elbow as they returned to the kitchen to grab the side dishes. “How many times has he asked you out?”

“Since last week?” Avery said. “Three.” At every dinner party he’d thrown, he’d asked her out at the end of the night. And Avery had turned him down each and every time.

“And you haven’t accepted why?”

That was a good question. Avery set a tray of brisket on the buffet table and followed Kristie back into the kitchen. She grabbed the king-sized bowl of potato salad and headed for the patio. “I’m really not sure if it’s a good idea or not.”