The Trouble With Quarterbacks Page 7

  “Swimming costumes? Sounds like something you wear to cover you from neck to knees.”

  “The ones I wear do,” she quips with a wink.

  “Oh yeah?” I nod outside, to the pool on the outdoor balcony. “I can’t wait to find out.”

  Her eyes go wide. “You’re kidding! You’ve got a pool all the way up here too? What in the—” She shakes her head in disbelief. “That’s it—in my next life, I’m coming back bloody loaded. No rearing children for $2 an hour. I’ll be a Saudi sheikh or some warlord, just you wait.”

  “I can see it now. You seem just the type.”

  She reaches out and throws a punch at my arm as retribution for teasing her and it’s probably supposed to hurt me, but I don’t even flinch. I catch her hand before she draws it back, and I twine our fingers together. We’re touching palm to palm. Blood rushes south. It’s such an innocent touch, like something two teenagers would do, and yet, standing here, holding her hand in front of everyone feels as intimate as anything I’ve ever done in the privacy of my bedroom.

  “You’re overwhelming, y’know,” she says, blinking her blue eyes up at me. “I already thought you were too good to be true with the hair and the face and the arse, but then I come here and it’s like you’re a real prince, fancy palace and all. You’ll make some girl really happy someday.”

  She tugs her hand free and turns away.

  I frown, not quite sure what she means by that. Everything I’ve done, every flirtatious move has been to show her I’m interested in her, to show her I’d like to make her happy if she’d give me the chance.

  “There’s Yasmine and Kat!” she says, waving them over. “They went to find the loo ages ago, but they probably got lost in the west wing or something.”

  Once they reach us, any chance I have of getting a private moment with her will be gone. I can’t let it happen like that, her slipping through my fingers, quick as sand. I’ve been in motion for so long, on and off the football field, going from one play to the next, listening to my coaches and my agents and my financial advisers and my nutritionists and my trainers. I’m so good at shifting from one task to another that I’ve completely left out this huge chunk, the personal part of it all, the life part of living.

  “Candace, are you seeing anyone?”

  She barks out a laugh. “When have I got the time? Before or after my shifts at the school and District? Oh right, maybe I can pencil the bloke in for a quick lay on Sunday evenings. Then it’s lights out by ten so I’m not a total snooze at school on Monday morning.”

  Her friends are approaching, and I only have a few more seconds. I have to know—do I even have a shot with her?

  “So that’s it? You’re too busy for me?”

  “For you?”

  “Don’t act surprised. I admitted my crush the other day.”

  She looks like she needs to lie down or maybe soak herself in an ice bath.

  She’s rubbing her forehead and looking away, frustrated. “I do remember that, though I thought my brain was having a go at me. Listen, you’re lovely, just the sort of guy I’d go for if I could, but I can’t.”

  I reach out for her hand so I can grip it and assure myself she’s real.

  “Why? Why can’t we try this?”

  Her blue eyes pierce through me when she replies, “Because you’re off limits, I’m afraid.”

  Chapter Seven

  Candace

  Oh dear. Logan looks like I’ve just shot him straight through the heart with an arrow.

  Maybe this is how David felt right after he hit Goliath with that rock. How in the world have I managed to inflict pain on a man as gorgeous and charming as Logan? I feel horrible.

  My hand shoots out to grab his arm. It’s a real hulking muscle, and I do get distracted for a moment, squeezing it under my fingers and feeling just how bulky it is. God, he must eat loads of protein. Hopefully he’s not one of those wankers who shoots raw eggs down his gullet in the morning though. Blech.

  Then I drag my attention away from his hard-earned muscles and up to his eyes…the lovely brown eyes that look utterly wounded right now. I feel bad all over again. I don’t want to be David.

  “Listen, okay, it’s not that bad. It’s just I don’t know the rules at The Day School yet. This teacher got axed last year for having sex with a student’s dad, and I know you’re not Briggs’ dad, but you’re his uncle, and maybe that’s just as bad? I tried to—”

  “We’re back! Finally. My feet hurt just from walking to the loo and back. This place is huge,” Kat says, sounding as if she’s just climbed Everest and she needs to take a load off.

  “It really did take forever what with all the doors. I swore we went into like fifteen bedrooms before we ended up in the line for the loo,” Yasmine agrees. “Anyway, who’s this?” She looks Logan up and down, her brows shooting up to her hairline like she’s mighty impressed. “Oh right…”

  She’s finally connected the photos of him from Google to the real-life thing.

  “This is Logan,” I say, motioning between the three of them. “Logan, these are my flatmates, Yasmine and Kat.”

  “Right. So you’re Logan, Mr. Celebrity Athlete and all. Real pleasure to meet you.” Kat extends her hand. “Quite a nice set of bricks you have here. What’s the square footage on a place like this?”

  Yasmine groans and cuts in before Logan can answer. “Kat, you can’t just ask someone that. It’s so crass.”

  “What? Seems like if someone is going to spend this much on a flat, they’d want to show it off.”

  He shakes her hand then looks to me with a pleading expression, as if hoping I’ll explain that these aren’t my friends at all, but rather two psychos I plucked off the street as a joke. Funny, right? Anyhoo, they’ll be leaving now. But alas, it is what it is. Crazy attracts crazy, and we three come as a trio.

  “Now that my friends have introduced themselves, I think you should take us out to your pool.”

  “Yes!” Kat agrees, clapping her hands together enthusiastically.

  “Okay sure. Let’s go,” Logan agrees. “Let me just grab a drink first.”

  We head to the bar, and he asks the bartender for a water.

  “Are you sober?” I ask, trying to keep my voice down. “No judgment or anything. I’ve got an uncle who did AA.”

  He looks confused for a second before seeing my gaze on his water. “Oh no. I just don’t drink much. I already had a beer earlier, so I’m cutting myself off. My trainer can always tell if I’ve been drinking the night before a session, and it’s not worth the extra sprints.”

  “Right. Then I won’t drink either.” I turn to the bartender. “Water for me too. On the rocks.”

  He looks thoroughly confused. “What?”

  I fidget a bit. “I was just being cheeky. Can I just get it with some ice, please?”

  He still doesn’t laugh, but he does get me a cup of water with loads of ice. Once Yasmine and Kat have their wine, we set off toward the porch. I expect it to be freezing once we step outside, and I nearly run back in for my coat. But then, instead of icy air blasting my face, I’m met by pockets of warmth. There are huge heaters set up around the perimeter of the balcony, making it so you can stand anywhere outside and still feel comfortable, so much so that there are a good number of people in the pool. They’re brave souls who’ve stripped down to their knickers and are splashing around in the water. One of the guys shouts for Logan to come over, and Logan waves to him before turning to us.

  “Make yourselves at home. I’ll be right back.”

  I watch, feeling bereft as he walks away.

  With Logan by our side, we belong. With him gone, I suddenly feel like a fish out of water. At least we have each other, I suppose. We circle the pool until we reach the side of the balcony opposite the flat. There, we dare each other to stand at the very edge, right against the glass railing that seems much too flimsy to support my full weight. I manage two and a half seconds with the city hovering below me b
efore darting back to safety with a little squeak.

  “That’s mad! Look way down there. I think that’s a dog!” Kat shouts, pointing down to the city street.

  My stomach rolls at the sight of her leaning over like that. “Do you have to stand over there? I swear you’ll topple over if a decent gust of wind blows past.”

  At my warning, she pretends to slip, and I nearly lose my stomach. Then she and Yasmine roll into a fit of laughter, and I threaten to excommunicate the pair of them.

  While we’re over there, more people flood out onto the balcony, and I think it’s because Logan’s out here now. He’s still with his friends, a group of guys taunting each other near the edge of the pool. I smile as I watch him with them, so carefree and confident. It’s clear they’re all a bit in awe of him. I suppose I am too.

  I drift over to the edge of the pool closest to me as I consider how lucky Logan is to have so much outdoor space this high up off the ground. It really looks nice too, not just concrete and glass. There’s artificial grass laid down between the pool edge and the glass railing of the balcony. He’s also got huge trees in planters dotting the sides, so it’s like we’re in a proper garden instead of on some floating space-age balcony.

  A huge splash draws my attention back to the pool, and I look back just in time to see Logan surface from the water. He whips his wet hair back and he’s got a huge smile on his face. His friends are laughing, though not for long, because another two of them get tossed in next, and then the whole lot of them splash in. Even way over on my end, my legs get sprayed, and I take a step back, just in case.

  “I’m going in,” Kat says, already in the process of yanking off her dress.

  “Ditto. The pool is heated and lovely,” Yasmine says with a groan of pleasure. “I haven’t been swimming in ages.”

  I’m ready to join them and strip too then look down and remember I’m still wearing the expensive red dress that’s now fused with my body. There’s no getting it off, and I certainly can’t wear it into the pool. Given how much I paid for it, I suppose I’ll just be wearing it forever.

  “You coming in?” Kat asks, laying her clothes on a lounger behind us. She looks lovely in her black knickers and bra set, real tall and lithe.

  “I can’t, remember?” I fiddle with the edge of my dress. “You two go. I’ll sit on the edge, over there by the stairs. Come swim over to me.”

  They take each other’s hands and leap in together, laughing while they do it. I envy them as I curve around to the other side, watching everyone bobbing up and down in the water. I’ve never wanted to swim as badly as I do now. I bet the water feels good, and even with the heaters on, I’m still a bit chilly in my lightweight dress.

  The stairs are all but abandoned since most of the crowd is gathering in the deep end. I take full advantage, hiking the skirt of my dress up around my upper thighs and stepping down until the warm water laps up to my calves.

  I hear someone swim closer and glance up, expecting Yasmine and Kat, but it’s Logan, alone, wading through the water in my direction.

  He looks as threatening as a shark, mostly hidden under the surface, coming straight for me. I freeze for a moment, watching him as he gets closer, and then he stands, peeling his tall frame out of the water, droplets dripping down his body. His dark hair is pushed back off his forehead. His shirt is stuck to his chest, showing off every ridge and contour of his pecs and abs. My jaw drops a bit before I can help it.

  “Not getting in?” he asks.

  “I can’t.”

  “Worried about taking your clothes off?”

  “No. Well, not exactly. I literally can’t take this dress off.”

  He furrows his dark brows. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a long story and I think it’ll only make you laugh, so I can’t say. I’m trying hard to make sure you take me seriously, so it’s best if I don’t tell you.”

  He comes closer with a sinister look in his eyes. “Tell me or I’ll dunk you, dress and all.”

  “No!” I hold my arms out to keep him at bay, though I know it’s futile. He could do whatever he wanted with me and I couldn’t stop him. I shiver. What a thought.

  His wet hand shoots out to wrap around my forearm, his grip closing around it so easily it almost scares me.

  “Logan!” It’s no use. Even the serious tone I employ with the naughty toddlers at The Day School doesn’t earn me his respect.

  “One…”

  He starts to count, and I know when he gets to three, I’m going in.

  “I can’t! It’s embarrassing!”

  “Two…”

  “Right okay. Just hold on, will you?!”

  “Three…”

  “LOGAN!”

  He tugs me and I’m in the water, dunked under so I’m wet from head to toe when I surface again, sputtering water in my absolute rage.

  “OH MY GOD! YOU RUINED THE MOST EXPENSIVE THING I OWN!”

  I think I’m going to cry. Really. My bottom lip is quivering. Logan swims over and doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me, touching me, gathering me close. His body is so warm, and I don’t push away even though he more than deserves it.

  “What are you going on about?” he asks, pushing my wet hair off my face. “Is the dress really that expensive?”

  My stomach squeezes tight as I admit the truth. “Over twenty-two hundred dollars with tax and everything. Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t want to buy it. Don’t think I’m some girl who spends money she doesn’t have, but I tried it on as a laugh, and well, the zipper got stuck and I couldn’t exactly cut myself out of it. It’s couture—custom! And now it’s ruined!”

  I look down at the material in the water and ignore the fact that the red chiffon looks quite pretty floating up all around me. This is no time for frivolity!

  I’m right up against Logan now, wet chest to wet chest. He has his arms wrapped around me and we’re bobbing while he listens to my hysterical rambling.

  I’m faintly aware of him repeating my name, trying to get me to calm down, but it’s useless. I’m going to go haul myself over that glass wall. It’s the only solution. Yaz and Kat can use my life insurance to pay off my dress debt.

  Logan’s hand drifts up to my chin, and he lifts it gently until I’m forced to look him right in the eyes. His dark lashes are wet and thick, and his brown eyes sear into me in such a lovely way. If I had any talent for art, I’d want to paint him like this, right up close so the world could see him from this angle and we could all collectively swoon.

  “I’ll buy you a new one,” he promises.

  Then his hand leaves my face and snakes around the back of my dress, our gazes staying locked as if he’s put me under a spell. I’m only half aware of everything going on around me: the soft feel of the wet fabric against my skin, the way our hips keep bumping together beneath the surface of the water, how much he overcrowds me when I’m not even backed into a corner. Then his fingers find the top of my zipper and he tugs, not gently. He pulls like he’s on a mission, one he completes much too quickly. I hear the telltale sound of expensive fabric tearing and the dress splits in two, filling with water and starting to slide off my body.

  I look down in absolute shock. A delayed reaction if there ever was one.

  “I’ll buy you a new one,” he swears, again, stripping the material away.

  “Well now you’ll have to! You tore it!”

  “What was your plan, exactly?” he says, tipping his head in such a boyish way that I almost, for a second, forget how intimidating he can be.

  “Simple—to wear it every day until I die.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Please go get your checkbook right now,” I say, pointing back inside his flat. “I’ll wait. Make the check out to Candace Williams. That’s C-A-N-D-A-C-E. I’ll cash it in the morning.”

  “Sure thing…right after we’re done swimming,” he says with a cocky smile as he finishes yanking my dress off me.

  I’ve b
een unclothed by a few lads in my day, and there’s always been a lot of fumbling fingers and nervous laughter. Not this time. Oh, no. Logan is stripping me in front of a crowd of people, and it’s like he’s done the gesture a thousand times before. Very practiced, this man.

  I’m highly aware that my knickers are not at all modest. They cut high up along my arse so that most of it is exposed, not quite a thong, but not that far off. Thank god I went for that wax! My bra is no better. I wore a strapless one when we went dress shopping, and the nude material has gone nearly see-through.

  “I’m practically naked!”

  “Hardly,” Logan says, a wicked look in his eyes as he gathers my most prized possession, wads it into a ball, and tosses it out of the pool. Red fabric heaps beside a lounger, and now I’m stuck, in here with him, with barely any clothes on.

  “Give me your tee!” I say, swimming closer and starting to pry the wet material off his abs. “It’ll cover me well enough. Probably go down to my ankles with any luck.”

  “Sure thing,” he says, reaching back in that ultra-sexy way to yank his shirt up and off in one fell swoop. Then he holds it out for me, and I reach for it. As soon as my fingers touch it, he jerks it away and tosses it out beside my dress. “Actually, why bother? It’s sopping wet. You don’t want to put it on anyway.”

  My eyes are wide as saucers. I’m pretty sure my jaw is dropped so low my chin is skimming the surface of the water. “I did want it, you cow! Now look what you’ve done. You’re there, all nude and glorious and tan, and I haven’t got a stitch of clothing to put on. We’re basically in a porno!”

  He grins. “Want my jeans?”

  “Oh har har. Funny guy. Sure, give me those and let me put them on so I don’t moon everyone and give them a fright on my way out of the pool.”

  At the depth we’re standing in, his chest is up out of the water; meanwhile, I’m up to my neck, basically treading water to stay alive. It’s getting a bit difficult as I’ve got the upper body strength of an infant. He sees me starting to struggle and reaches out for my hand, dragging me toward the shallow end. I let him, right up until my breasts are about to crest the water, and then I yank my hand back.