“You’re going to have a lot of free time on your hands once football season is over,” Genevieve said as she sat across from Zach and raised her wine to her lips. She looked at him over the brim of the glass, and her lids lowered a fraction. “What will you do?”
Zach recognized the invitation. He’d seen it a thousand times in the eyes of a thousand different women. If it had been anyone but Genevieve Brooks-Marshall staring back at him, he might have given it some thought.
“I’ll figure something out.” He stood and moved to a garbage can behind the grill. He tossed his empty beer bottle and walked into the house. He moved past the leather couches, chairs, and seventy-two-inch high-definition television and into the bathroom. Most of the house was exactly the way Devon had left it, except for the HDTV. Zach wasn’t the kind of guy who had to have the biggest rig or fastest car, but he did like a big TV. With over 2 million pixels, sometimes bigger really was better, he thought as he zipped up his pants.
As he opened the bathroom door and shut off the light, he heard soft laughter from down the hall. He followed it past the weight and sauna room and stopped in the doorway of his office. He shoved one shoulder into the frame and crossed his arms over his chest. Adele sat on one edge of his big desk, talking on the phone. “I didn’t leave him a prank call on his answering machine,” she said, as she looked down at the cord she twisted around one finger. “What a total loser. I called to tell him about what happened today with you and the baby, but at the last minute I decided he didn’t deserve to know. Maybe I should have just hung up, but I didn’t. I told him he should go fuck himself, and you’re right. It felt great.”
Adele had a potty mouth on her. Zach lowered his gaze to her lips. Not that he held that against a beautiful woman.
“Let him.” She made a scoffing sound and shook her head. “What judge is going to care? Compared to a man leaving his pregnant wife for his twentysomething dental assistant, a few messages are nothing.” She glanced up, and her gaze met Zach’s. Her hand stilled, and she stood “Listen, Sheri, I’ve gotta go, but we’ll come by on the way home. I know Kendra wants to tell you about her day.” She pulled her finger from the twisted cord. “I’ll see ya in a while,” she said, then hung up the phone.
“I thought you might’ve gotten lost.” He pushed away from the door and walked into the room.
“No.” She shook her head and brushed her hair from her face.
“How’s your sister?”
“Better.” She sucked in a tired breath and let it out slowly. “After Sheri has her baby, and everything is okay with them, I’m going home to my real life and sleep for about a year.”
“Where’s home?”
She dropped her hands to her sides and looked up at him. “Idaho.”
“Idaho?” He thought Tiffany had said Iowa. “Is that where you disappeared to when you left UT?”
Adele stared up into Zach’s handsome face, past his strong chin and firm mouth and into his eyes the color of warm coffee. She was tired and didn’t want to talk about the past. Especially with the man responsible for so much pain. “I didn’t disappear.” She pulled her gaze from his and moved to a built-in bookcase. “I went to stay with my grandmother in Boise. I liked it and never left.” She picked out an oversized
“Somewhere.”
She cracked the cover and turned her attention to the glossy pages. “You don’t know where?”
“Page thirty-two.”
She chuckled and flipped through the book. The slick paper was cool to the touch, and she thumbed through until she came to a page filled with the image of Zach in a blue-and-orange jersey with the number twelve on the front and on the big padded shoulders. A pair of tight white pants fit him like a second skin, and a white towel was tucked into his waistband and hung over his laces like a loincloth. Zach’s intense brown eyes stared out from within the face mask of his blue helmet, and his lips were flattened against his teeth. His left hip turned downfield, his right arm extended behind him, the photographer snapped the picture just before he snapped the ball forward.
“You ranked number eleven,” she said, then read out loud, “Zemaitis played the game in his head. He had the ability to see each play before it happened. He played strong and smart ball and could kill with perfect spirals and long bombs.” She turned the page to another photograph of him, standing behind the center, knees bent, head turned to one side as he called the play and waited for the snap. She read the caption to the side of the photo. “‘Girls always wanted to know what it was like to have Zach’s hands all over my butt.’—Dave Gorlinski.” She looked up at him. “Who’s Dave Gorlinski?”
“Center at UT.” He grabbed the book and tried to take it from her.
She didn’t let go and read another caption. “‘Zach Zamaitis had the most skilled hands of anyone who’s ever lined up underneath me.’—Chuck Quincy.” Adele bit her top lip to keep from laughing. “Who’s Chuck?”
“Center for the Dolphins my first three seasons.” This time he succeeded in taking the book from her. “Try not to laugh too hard,” he said, and tossed it on his desk.
“Well, it does sound kinky.”
“Honey, that’s nothin’.” He tilted his head to one side and smiled. “I could tell you stories if you’re interested in kinky.”
“No. That’s okay.” She turned her attention to the big glass case filled with everything from trophies to signed footballs and a pair of cleats. On just about every inch of the walls hung his old football jerseys encased in Plexiglas as well as plaques and photographs of Zach at various stages in his career, starting as a kid wearing shoulder pads that looked too big for his body and ending with his retirement.
“Impressive.”
He shrugged. “Devon decorated this room a year or two before she died, and I’ve just left it. It’s too crowded, but what else am I going to do with all this stuff?”
“I think you should leave it.” Adele turned to face him. “It looks good, and you should be proud of yourself. And…I’m sure since Devon…you know.” She dropped her gaze to the Moose Drool Beer on his wide chest.
He chuckled without humor, and she looked up into his face. “I didn’t mean to imply that she decorated it herself. She had someone do it. Devon never did anything herself.” He lifted a hand and brushed a few strands of hair from her cheek. “I don’t want to talk about Devon.” The tips of his fingers touched her cheek as his eyes searched her face. “I want to talk about you.”
A hot little tingle spread down the side of Adele’s neck and across her chest. It tightened her breasts and messed with her breathing. “There’s nothing to say.” She tried to laugh, but it sounded nervous even to her own ears.
“I doubt that.”
“Really.” She moved past him and headed for the door before the hot little tingle burned its way through her entire body. “I’m very boring.”
A few feet from the entrance, his hand on her arm stopped her. “Don’t pretend you’re not the least bit curious.”
“About?”
“What it would be like if I kissed you again. We’re older. Have more experience.” She refused to turn around, and he slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder. “Would it be as good as it was fourteen years ago?”
If it had been so good, why had he left her for Devon? She closed her eyes. They both knew the answer to that, but the fact that Devon had been pregnant hadn’t made it any less painful. Not for her. It didn’t hurt any longer, but there was absolutely no way she would ever get involved with him again. “No. I’m not curious. I never look back.”
As if she hadn’t spoken, he pushed her hair to one side. “Would you drive me insane like you used to?” He lowered his face, and his breath warmed the side of her neck. “And honey, you drove me out of my mind.” He slid one big hand around her side to her flat stomach and pulled her back against his hard chest. “I was the first man to make love to you. I haven’t forgotten that.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“You haven’t forgotten, either.” His lips brushed her heated skin, and those hot little tingles she’d worried about spread warmth all over her body. It had been a long time since she’d felt the secure arms of a man. A long time
