The Player's Game Read online

  No, she’d decided on this, and she’d do it. She didn’t run away from challenges, even though this particular one came straight out of left field.

  Now halfway down the hallway, she stared at doors that all looked like each other. If she was going to do this, she might as well start. She lifted her hand and knocked on the closest one. When there was no answer, she knocked again. “Grant, are you in there?”

  Damn it all. Still nothing, so she pounded harder. Finally, she gave up and tried the next door. “Grant, come out here.”

  The sound of soft footfalls came through from the other side. If she’d found him, great. Otherwise, she’d apologize and move on. Eventually, the door opened, and a man stood on the other side. He was wearing slacks, but his feet were bare and his shirt hung open.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “Sorry. You’re not who I’m looking for.”

  He stared at her as if she had a few screws loose. Not a bad assessment. Inside, the bathroom door opened, and a woman appeared. Wearing a negligee. Crap.

  The woman jumped back out of Katy’s sight. “Honey, what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered as he stared at Katy, obviously waiting for her to say something.

  Katy held up her hands and backed away. “Sorry. An accident. My fault. Please excuse me.”

  He didn’t say anything more but simply closed the door.

  “Shoot,” she said softly. Was she ever going to find him? Or would she end up humiliating herself in front of the entire floor?

  Dear Lord in heaven, what was she doing? She never behaved like this. She’d always look the other way if someone made a scene in public, and she sure as hell never created one herself. She was so close to making partner at the prestigious Brandenburg Law firm, and she didn’t dare do anything to jeopardize it.

  Including having anonymous sex with someone she’d never see again. But it had been so long since she’d had any physical pleasure at all, and it’s not like anyone here would know her. That was why she’d thrown caution and her better judgment to the winds and treated herself to this vacation. Hunting down an eligible lover and flirting had almost killed her. But she’d managed to locate her Prince-Charming-for-the-Evening, and now, she’d lost him. Surely, Grant would want to make up for that. If only she could find him.

  She went down a few doors so she wouldn’t disturb the couple she’d just…well…disturbed and banged on room 1226. No one answered, so she knocked some more. “Grant, are you in there? If you are, come out. I need to talk to you.”

  After knocking again, she waited, doing her best to listen through the door for any sound of someone approaching. When she heard nothing, she tried the next room.

  “Grant.” She knocked and knocked. “I know you’re here somewhere, and I’m going to find you.”

  Finally, a door at the end of the hallway opened, and a familiar sandy-haired head peaked out

  “Katy, what the hell are you doing?”

  She’d found him! Striding toward him, she brushed past him into his room.

  Of course, the “room” turned out to be a suite at the corner of the resort that looked out over sand dunes on one side and the ocean on the other. But she hadn’t come here to admire the view.

  The view on the inside held her attention despite her attempt to ignore it. Grant had changed into faded jeans that hung low on his hips and wore a tattered T-shirt that clung to the muscles of his chest and abdomen. His feet were bare. Ready-for-sex clothes if she’d ever seen them.

  He put his hands on his hips. “Do you want to tell me what that was all about?”

  “Do you know what day this is?”

  He screwed up his face as if he’d never heard such a crazy question. “Saturday?”

  Could he get any denser? “The date, Grant.”

  “Let’s see…um…June first. No, the second.” Then his features softened into a hang-dog “I screwed up” expression. “Your birthday.”

  “Yeah, my birthday.” She advanced on him. “Stephen, or ‘not good enough for me,’ as you called him, was my present to myself for turning thirty.”

  “Ah, crap,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  He was sorry, all right. Those were the two words he used for fixing anything. Only they had stopped working a long time ago.

  “I’m not like you. I don’t jump into bed casually,” she said.

  He didn’t look her in the eye but sat silently on the couch and bent with his fingers interlaced between his knees.

  “I had to get up my courage to do it this time because I needed…” She let her voice trail off before she confessed to a weakness she didn’t often admit, even to herself. She needed. God, how she needed.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  She didn’t answer. He could be clueless sometimes, but he wasn’t a mean man. He didn’t enjoy hurting people. The silence went on for a long time, her stomach churning while Grant still avoided eye contact.

  “What can I do to make it up to you?” he said finally.

  “Do you really want to?”

  He did look up at her then. He had the most beautiful hazel eyes. That and his blond hair made him look innocent sometimes. This time, he appeared sincere…vulnerable almost.

  “I’ve screwed up, but I’ve never wanted to hurt you,” he said.

  That much she could believe. She only had to find some courage to ask him for what she really wanted. She’d kick herself for years, maybe the rest of her life, if she didn’t try. “It seems as if both of us lost our dates.”

  “I apologized for that.”

  “I didn’t mention it because I’m angry. I said it because…well…maybe we can fix that for each other.”

  “You mean…” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Like you and me…um…together?”

  “Exactly like that.” He had to understand. If he was a good guy, he’d take over the discussion from here and spare her the embarrassment. At least, he hadn’t told her she was crazy…yet.

  He rose and approached her slowly. “You want to have sex with me.”

  Now, she avoided eye contact. “I do.”

  “Katy.” He always said her name like an endearment. She hadn’t heard that for so damned long.

  “You’re a player now, and I wouldn’t expect you to change that.” She lifted her head and looked into his face. “But I don’t see why I can’t enjoy you for one night instead of some other woman having all the fun.”

  “Makes sense. You always were the logical one.” He pulled her into his arms, and she found herself snuggled up to his chest. So familiar, like home. She shouldn’t let herself enjoy it so much. This was for one night, but if she went ahead with this, she could touch the soft, soft cotton of his T-shirt and feel the firm muscle beneath.

  They’d kiss again. They’d touch each other everywhere. She could strip every bit of clothing off him and let him do the same to her. She could have him inside her and his hands going everywhere. What sane woman wouldn’t want that? Yes, she’d made the right decision.

  …

  If Grant hadn’t been holding Katy, a strong breeze would have knocked him over. She wanted to have sex with him. It was like the old days, when they’d been unable to keep their hands off each other. If he had any sense, he’d let her down gently and explain he’d finally come to terms with the fact that they were over. She’d kicked him out of their condo for good and didn’t want him back. Indulging now might bring the feelings back, and then he’d have to get over her again.

  But hell, this was Katy. He couldn’t reject her. He’d hurt her enough already. Besides, he really did want her. No matter what had driven them apart, no matter that it felt like eons since they’d had sex, his body wanted her. And now she was standing in his hotel suite, in his arms…waiting. And he’d damned well better do someth
ing.

  He eased her away and gazed down at her. “Happy birthday, Katy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thirty, huh?” he said. “You look great.”

  “Thirty isn’t old.”

  “Some women get hung up on it.”

  She just shrugged. She had a way of pretending things didn’t matter when they did. It had gotten him into a lot of trouble over the years. Obviously, this birthday was significant or she wouldn’t have tracked down a stranger for sex. That definitely wasn’t her style.

  He took her hands in his and drank in the sight of her. “Really, really good.”

  “Could we get on with this?” she said.

  “You in a rush or something?”

  She shrugged again. This time, she bit her lip, uncertain. Not too many people got to encounter Katy McCord in any state other than poised. Her vulnerability—when he’d seen it—had always gone right to the primitive protector in him. That connection was still strong.

  He lifted her chin and kissed her briefly. “Let’s see if I remember how to do this.”

  She still wore what she’d had on in the elevator—the outfit she’d used to lure in the other guy, most likely. A deceptively simple dress in some silky black fabric that draped her curves instead of clinging to them. The sort of thing that would unzip easily and fall to the floor with no effort at all. Understated and sexy as all hell. She’d added shoes with impossible heels that made her legs look yards long. He’d leave those on her for a while so he could watch her move in them.

  He went around her and unfastened the zipper of her dress. As he’d pictured, it slithered off her body and made a puddle of fabric on the floor.

  Now he had a view he’d desperately missed. While some guys loved breasts, he preferred a woman’s rear end. Asses always turned him on, especially nice, rounded ones. The kind women went to the gym to make smaller. Some wise god had decreed that no matter how much time Katy spent on the stair machine, she still couldn’t lose the curves.

  But first, he’d take a simple taste of her. After brushing her hair to the side, he pressed his lips to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Months of experimenting had taught him that the innocent inch of flesh held one of her hot buttons. Sure enough, she let out a sigh.

  Her perfume went right to a pleasure center in his brain. It had identified her in the elevator before he’d even seen her. A combination of the soap she used and her own sugar and spice, the scent had always meant “home” to him. It became more intense when she became aroused—something that would happen in the next few minutes, unless he’d lost his touch.

  She’d worn one of those strapless bras, which could be eased down over her ribs to expose her breasts. Once he had them free, he pulled her back against him and cupped them, rubbing the nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

  “I don’t believe I’m doing this,” she said.

  He nibbled at her neck, taking a path up to her ear. “It’s your birthday. Relax.”

  Now her ass was pressed against his crotch, right where it belonged. He’d been halfway to erect when he’d put his arms around her. Now he stiffened to full length. The fabric of his jeans and her panties separated his hardness from the cheeks of her rear, but his imagination was in overdrive, thinking up pictures of him sliding his shaft along her crack. He’d be dark and ready to climax in contrast to her pale skin.

  But whoa, he was getting ahead of himself. He had a lot more to do to please her before he satisfied himself.

  As one of his hands continued massaging her breast, he sent the other exploring over her midsection, past her belly, to her panties. When she didn’t do anything to stop him, he slid his fingers inside. Already moist. The woman’s passion humbled him. He’d hardly touched her, and she was wet for him.

  “Grant?” she said.

  He tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “Yeah, Katy?”

  “Are you going to…?”

  “Happy birthday.” He parted the lips of her sex and found her most sensitive organ stiff and eager for some fun. When he rubbed it, she shuddered. The motion did all kinds of good things for his erection.

  “Grant.” Now it was more like a cry.

  He slipped his arm around her ribs and held her fast against him. “I won’t let you fall.”

  “Oh.”

  That sounded like permission, so he went to work. He fingered her bud the way that he knew most turned her on. A circular motion and then lingering at the tip.

  Resting her head back against his shoulder, she relaxed into the caress, allowing him to keep her upright. She’d been so inexperienced when they’d first touched each other, she’d hardly understood her own response. She’d let him act as teacher, and he’d never, ever let her down sexually after that. Tonight would be no exception.

  By now, she was making the kinds of sounds that signaled sweet, female arousal—the high plateau of maximum pleasure before she shot to the stars. Her breathing was rapid, with little whimpers here and there. But he could do even more. He slid his finger inside her while keeping his thumb where she most wanted it. More moisture accumulated on his hand as her muscles clamped down in the same way they did when he was inside her, driving her to orgasm. She was hot, really, really hot, and he’d finish her soon.

  Of course, doing this for her got him all worked up, too. His erection was about ready to bust out of the zipper of his jeans. He’d have to stifle his eagerness if he wanted to draw this out. He’d lost the best sex of his life with the divorce, but now he could have a taste of it again. He might never get another chance with this woman, and no way in hell was he going to rush things.

  She’d stopped whimpering and was now giving him soft “ohgods.” And her inner muscles kept squeezing his finger. She couldn’t wait any longer.

  He moved his finger again, hard and fast. Her hips jerked as she climaxed, and she gave him a shout of victory. He continued stroking her to draw out her release. It was a helluva long time before she sagged against him with a moan.

  Pride swelled in his chest, much like it had the first time he’d brought her to orgasm—in a dark corner of the university library. Then, he’d kissed her to cover her shout. Now, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom of his suite. He laid her on the comforter and let her enjoy some afterglow while he opened the sliding door of his balcony to let in warm breezes and the sounds of the ocean. When he turned back, she’d opened her eyes but otherwise hadn’t moved.

  “Good one?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” She sounded a bit surprised. She shouldn’t be. He always gave his lovers his best, and his wife deserved better than that. Apparently, so did his ex-wife.

  “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday party.”

  “I’d say you’re making up for it nicely.” She sat up and removed her bra.

  “Hey, let me do that.” He went to her and bent over to grab her panties. The crotch was soaked, and he brought them to his nose and inhaled the perfume that would never leave him alone.

  “Pervert,” she said.

  “Just what you ordered, ma’am.” For a moment, he stared at her shoes. He could maybe talk her into leaving them on, but images of the tips digging into his ass at an awkward moment squashed that idea. He slid them off and held one up. “These are dangerous for your ankles, you know.”

  “Some things are worth the risk.”

  Like having sex with an ex-wife. He shouldn’t fool himself. This wasn’t a normal recreational roll in the hay. If nothing else, saying goodbye in the morning was going to prove awkward as hell. That was…if she spent the night.

  Great. Something else to worry about. Did he invite her to stay, or did he get up when they’d finished, put on his robe, and pour them a goodbye drink? Someone definitely needed to write that etiquette book.

  He tossed the shoes aside and rose to strip. For
a minute, though, as he moved his hands to the hem of his T-shirt, he had to stop. Katy was in his bed again, and he could stare at her in all her naked glory. Why did women fear the number thirty so much? She looked exactly as she had when he’d first seen her in a bathing suit. She might have put on a few pounds, but they only made her more beautiful. She had small breasts, but hey…more than a handful was wasted. They worked well enough to turn her on. Her hips were full as a woman’s should be. No tiny asses for him. Which reminded him…

  “Roll over,” he said.

  “Why?” The light in her eyes said she was playing with him.

  “You know.” He made a twirling motion with his finger.

  With a wicked smile, she did as he’d asked. And holy crap, what a view she gave him. A slender waist above two plush cushions of the sweetest flesh the creator had ever made. He could only stare at her while his erection almost danced in his jeans.

  He tore off his T-shirt and sent it flying. Then he unzipped his fly and pushed his jeans down. Because he never bothered with shorts under casual clothes, his sex fell free. He almost made a dive for the bed, but something held his ankles. He hadn’t taken off his damned shoes, and his jeans were tangled around his feet.

  “Damn it.” He sat on the bed to get himself free of the denim leg-irons, and Katy rolled over, laughing.

  She had good reason to laugh. He never made boneheaded mistakes like that. Mr. Smooth—as slick in the bedroom as he was on the field. Well, now that her butt was hidden from view, he might manage to gain some control over himself.

  With both of them finally naked, he opened the drawer in the nightstand and pulled out the box of condoms.

  “Um, Grant…” she said.

  This was her usual way to start a conversation, as in, “We have to talk.” The words every man in the world most dreaded.

  “I’m still on the pill,” she said.

  Of course, she was. Children weren’t on her radar for years because of her career. Hadn’t he heard that often enough?

  “Yeah, but…” Great, now he couldn’t finish his sentence. Disease hadn’t been an issue when they’d been married, but this was now.