Tackled by the Girl Next Door Read online

  She leaned over to him and nudged him in the gut. “You should go to bed.”

  Bed? With her? Yes. No. “What?”

  “You’re acting all goofy. You must be tired from last night too. Maybe you should take a nap.”

  “I’m good. Just watch the game, O’Brien.”

  “Fine.” Her hand fell next to his thigh, high enough to graze his ass. The resulting electric shock sizzled his nerve endings. For a petite woman, she sure took up a lot of space on the couch. He shifted his hips over so her fingers didn’t touch him.

  He stared at the television, but his brain and every other part of his anatomy were focused on the woman beside him. Joe Thompson, the announcer, screamed something as the crowd roared in the stadium. “What happened?”

  “Interception, San Francisco. Where’s your mind this morning?”

  “Did you ever experience something in a completely different way than you’d ever experienced it in the past?”

  “Sure. I hated champagne when I was a kid. One day I took a sip and appreciated the amazing taste. Maybe I wasn’t ready for it before.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder, and he bit his tongue to avoid taking her in his arms and tasting her lips to see if any chocolate lingered there. He’d definitely developed an appreciation for all of Samantha O’Brien, and that realization scared the hell out of him.

  Chapter Three

  Monday

  On Monday evening, Sam slid the pan of brownies out of the oven and bustled around the kitchen cleaning up the mess she’d created. After eight hours spent crunching numbers for a company that cared more about their bottom line than the welfare of their employees, she’d opened the bottle of her favorite red early and enjoyed a glass as she cooked. Tomato sauce simmered in a pot on top of the stove. Pasta boiled in water beside it, the rapidly breaking bubbles reminding her of Kevin’s temper. He hadn’t returned home since stomping out of the yard on Saturday night and hadn’t responded to her call. Typical. When his temper boiled over, he tended to shut out whomever he deemed the cause for the explosion. Stony silence would reign until his anger cooled.

  She eyed the timer. Five minutes to change. She ran to her bedroom and shed the confines of her business suit. Dinner with Jason would take her mind off the frustration of her day.

  The soft cable-knit sweater cuddled her body like a warm hug. She tugged on jeans and ran a brush through her hair and then padded back to the kitchen. One minute to spare. She poured herself a second glass of wine.

  Jason knocked on the kitchen window and came in through the back door. “Smells good in here.”

  “Perfect timing. Pasta’s done. Just in time for opening kickoff.” She silenced the timer and emptied the water and pasta into the colander. The rising steam bathed her face.

  “Need some help?”

  “No. I’ve got it. Why don’t you pour yourself some wine?” She turned and bumped into him.

  His huge hands closed around her arms, and then he released her like she was a sizzling pot and backed away. “Careful.”

  “You okay?” She frowned at his grunt.

  He poured his glass of merlot with stilted movements unlike his usual easy grace. His odd behavior throughout Sunday’s game started after she’d made that stupid comment about him finding a new occupation. Was he angry? His father badgered him enough about his future, he didn’t need it from her too.

  Awkwardness shrank her appetite. She plated noodles and sauce and watched him pace the small room.

  The back door banged open. Kevin marched in, a defiant scowl darkening his features.

  Sam inhaled a short, deep breath and smiled. No more drama. “Dinner’s ready, Kev. I’ll get you a plate.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m not staying.” His stony glare twisted her stomach into knots.

  “But you’ve been gone since Saturday.” Her frustration returned with his attitude.

  “It’s my break. I can spend it any way I want. And I don’t want to spend it here.”

  So much for time together. She swallowed. Anger and hurt swirled together. Kevin’s last Thanksgiving before graduation. Who knew where next year would take him? She needed to keep the peace if it killed her.

  Jason’s glass clinked hard against the countertop. He grabbed the plates and shoved them at her. “Take these into the living room. I’ll be right there.”

  Her brows rose at his commanding tone, but taking a moment to compose herself and collect her thoughts would be wise. She nodded and went into the adjoining room.

  “That scene in the front yard, Kev? Not cool at all.” Jason’s voice, though lowered, carried in from the kitchen and stopped Sam in her tracks.

  “Tell me about it. I can’t believe Sam was so stubborn.”

  “Not Sam. She was right. You were out of line.”

  Kevin snorted. “Come on, man. She embarrassed me in front of my teammates. You were a jock in college, you understand how it is.”

  “I understand a lot, including how to control my temper and how to treat a woman. She’s half your size. You need to apologize. Do you understand all your sister does for you? All she’s given up for you?”

  “I didn’t ask her to move home five years ago. Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father.” Their father had walked out when Kevin was an infant, but child abandonment wasn’t an excuse to act like a jerk.

  “You’re right. But if you ever put your hands on her again, I’ll deal with you, and believe me, you won’t like it.”

  Sam released her white-knuckled hold on the plates, setting them on the coffee table. She appreciated Jason’s protective side, but the steel in his voice surprised her. Kevin stomped past her and headed up the stairs.

  Jason stood in the doorway to the kitchen, holding the wineglasses. The glint in his eyes stole her breath. She crossed to him and with shaky fingers, claimed her glass. A large swallow helped dull the raw edges of her nerves.

  With thundering footsteps, Kevin jogged down the stairs. He carried the small duffel bag he used during his visits home. “Later.”

  The front door banged closed behind him. Within seconds, an engine revved. Sam glanced out the bay window. Her sedan backed out of the driveway and sped down the street.

  “That little...”

  Jason’s features hardened to granite. His hand fisted at his side. “Want me to go after him?”

  “No. Let him go for now. But I’ll need my car to get to work tomorrow.”

  “If he’s not back, you can use my truck.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled. Jason always had her back.

  “Let’s eat. Game’s underway.”

  After placing the bottle of wine on the end table, she settled beside him on the floor. Their thighs touched and sparks of awareness spread into her core. She twirled pasta on her fork. The tangy sauce stung her tongue.

  “I added some red pepper flakes. I hope you like it spicy.”

  “You have no idea.” His gaze dropped to her lips and then lowered to his plate. He cleared his throat and focused on the TV.

  They’d shared countless meals over the years. Everything felt nice and easy with him by her side, but she wanted more. Friendship with Jason was wonderful, but the sparks that flew whenever he touched her hinted at something explosive and amazing. More than anything, she wanted fireworks. She hadn’t been with anyone since Alex died. Losing her mom and then taking care of Kevin consumed her life. But ever since Jason moved back, imagining being together with him was too easy, too perfect, too right. Too bad he didn’t see her that way.

  She tapped her foot against his. “I remember you doing the color commentating live from the booth while you were on the injury list last season. You did a great job. Doesn’t hurt that the camera loves you.”

  “Thanks.” His foot shifted away.

  “Should be a good game tonight. The media coverage has been touting it as the biggest game of the week. One of the best rivalries in football.”

  “Yeah.” A commercial
for pizza flowed into a commercial for coffee, but he kept his focus on the screen.

  His one-word answers unsettled her more than Kevin’s behavior. Berating herself for mentioning the commentating again, she gulped another mouthful of wine. Alienating Jason wasn’t something she ever wanted to do. She had to fix it.

  She set her glass on the table and placed her hand on the corded muscles of his forearm. “Wait until you see what I made for dessert.”

  His glance landed on her hand and then shifted to her eyes. “Knowing you, it’s chocolate.”

  She pulled her hand back onto her lap as he shoved a scoop of pasta into his mouth. “Not just chocolate. It’s better than sex. Want some?”

  He coughed around a mouthful of food and set his fork down. “Excuse me?”

  She leaned toward his ear and whispered, “That’s the recipe name. Better Than Sex brownies.”

  “Oh.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. His gaze roamed over her, and the room’s temperature rose from comfortable to sultry. After a long moment, he turned back to the TV.

  She reached over him to grab the wine bottle on the end table and lost her balance, landing on his lap. His arms closed around her.

  “Nice catch.” She laughed and stretched for the bottle.

  His grip tightened. “You’re already past your usual limit.”

  “Keeping watch on me?”

  “Someone has to.” His voice deepened, and his finger grazed under her chin.

  Was the wine causing her to see desire in Jason’s eyes that wasn’t there? She scrambled to her feet. “Let me grab dessert.”

  She carried their plates into the kitchen. Drawing in slow, deep breaths, she prayed for clarity, then returned to the living room and set the brownies in front of him. The plate piled high with warm brownies blocked his view of the game. His eyes on the screen, Jason pushed off the floor and sat on the couch.

  She jumped onto the cushion next to him, snuggled into his side, and sighed. His muscles stiffened.

  “Did I hurt you?” She glanced at his face. Had she landed too hard?

  Ignoring her question, he reached for the plate, broke a brownie in half, and handed her a piece. “Here.”

  Sam lifted the brownie to his lips. “You first.”

  He took a bite and groaned. The sound drew Sam closer. She rested her fingertips on the rough denim covering his knee. Jason set the other half of the brownie on the plate and turned to her. He was so close his breath tickled her cheek. “Really good.”

  She inhaled his scent and popped the rest of the brownie in her mouth. Rich, dark cocoa exploded on her tongue. Chocolate chips melted into perfect gooey consistency enriched the flavor. She blew out a breath.

  “This is definitely better than sex.” How had that slipped out? No more wine for her.

  Hazel eyes burned into hers. “Sam.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve got chocolate on your lower lip.”

  “Oh.” She reached for her napkin.

  His hand stopped hers. “I’ll get it.”

  Instead of his fingers, his lips descended. His gaze intense, his movements controlled, he leaned in. Slowly.

  Sam moistened her lips and inhaled. Dream or reality? Jason’s lips closed over hers, too warm, too firm to be a figment of her subconscious. Fireworks exploded behind her eyes. The room erupted with the sound of cheers.

  She tasted the heady combination of chocolate and wine and Jason. Kissing Jason was better than she’d imagined. She fisted his sweater, holding him to her. Strong hands pressed her back into the cushions. His hand cupped her breast, eliciting moans from them both, and continued its journey to massage her hip.

  Humming her approval, she shifted the angle, deepened the kiss, and stroked her tongue along his. Strength and power formed from years of training had turned his body into a hard machine. She gave in to the temptation to explore. Her fingers slid under his sweater, over the ridges of his stomach. He sucked in his breath and groaned. Would his back feel as strong? His muscles bunched under her hand.

  He lifted his head. “Wow, Sam.” The words whispered, his gaze hungry, he gripped her waist.

  Jangling rang from the phone on the end table. He glanced at the display. Heat vanished and he pushed off her. “It’s the Glynneath police.”

  Ice stole through her core. She grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

  “Samantha O’Brien?”

  “Yes.”

  “A car registered in your name was involved in a car crash this evening. An ambulance transported the driver, Kevin O’Brien, to County General Hospital.”

  “Oh my God. Is he okay?” The pause at the other end of the line provided her the answer she dreaded. The helplessness she’d experienced during the too-similar phone call received after her mother’s fatal crash slammed through her like a tidal wave. History couldn’t repeat itself. Life couldn’t be that cruel.

  “He was unconscious. We have no further details on his condition. I recommend getting to the hospital as soon as you can.”

  Staring at Jason’s solemn expression, she lowered the phone. “They won’t tell me how badly he’s injured. What if he’s dying?” Fear launched her heartbeat to a sprinter’s pace. She pushed to her feet.

  Jason wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “Let’s find out his condition before jumping to conclusions. I’ll drive.”

  ****

  Jason’s last trip to a hospital was in the back of an ambulance being driven away from pro football forever. One torn patella tendon in the final year of a three-year contract meant the end of his career. Fighting to keep his position would be impossible. Despite similar stats, his replacement was ten years younger, a whole lot healthier, and paid half Jason’s salary.

  This hospital trip may mean Kevin’s college playing days could be over. He wasn’t good enough to play professional football, but he could have a pretty good finish to his college career if he remained healthy. He sent up a quick prayer that Kevin would walk out of the hospital with only wounded pride and a berating from his sister.

  Sam ran into the emergency room and straight to the front desk. A nurse led her into the back room to see her brother. Jason resigned himself to sitting in a plastic chair in the crowded waiting area. He wasn’t family. At this point, he didn’t know what he was. The kiss with Sam had tilted their relationship into unexplored territory. No going back, no pretending the kiss hadn’t pierced his heart. What would have happened if the phone had never rung?

  Only an ass would stress about a relationship with a woman while she dealt with a family emergency. Jason wasn’t an ass. He cared about Kevin and hoped he’d be all right. His mind, however, replayed his kiss with Sam a thousand times over. Nothing had prepared him for how perfectly her lips fit with his. Yet, this was only a temporary break from his real life. He’d need to fly back to California soon to put his life in order. Sam’s life always focused on her family. In light of the accident, she’d have to take an even greater role in caring for Kevin.

  A half hour later, Sam arrived back in the reception area. The usual light in her eyes had faded, surrounded by eyelids heavy with sadness and fatigue.

  Jason met her in the middle of the room. “How is he?”

  “He’ll live, but they need to wait until tomorrow to determine the full extent of his leg injury. They’re taking him to surgery right now. I only had a few minutes with him, but he was gorked out from the pain medication. I don’t think he even knew I was next to him.” Rather than falling into his arms for comfort, she paced back and forth.

  The urge to cradle her against his chest burned through his veins, but he stepped back and kept his hands at his sides. Time and experience told him she required space when dealing with tragedy in her life. “What happened?”

  “Texting his friends. Drove right into a telephone pole without slowing down. It’s a miracle he’s alive. The collision caused a complete compound fracture in both his tibia and his fibula.”

  “Damn. I
don’t know what to say.”

  “Just being here helps. Thanks.” She approached him with the hesitation of a timid doe. She rubbed under her eyes and then reached her hand out in a helpless gesture. “I’m really glad you’re with me.”

  Jason caught her hand, pulled her toward him, and escorted her over to a row of red plastic chairs by the window. As they sat together, Sam nodded in and out of sleep. Her eyes shot open each time someone emerged through the electric doors only to close again when the nurse or doctor headed toward another family. Finally, a doctor she seemed to recognize walked through the door. Sam sprang up and met him halfway.

  The doctor, a middle-aged man with too much gray at his temples, clasped both of Sam’s hands and spoke in a low voice to her. Their heads tilted together as though conspiring against the world. The more information the doctor gave her, the more she beamed up at him. Kevin must be fine. The doctor chatted with her a few more minutes, never letting her hands go. His smile caused wrinkles around his eyes, and he laughed every time Sam’s face showed the slightest hint of amusement. The whole scene morphed into a flirtation, not a medical conference. A small fire ignited in the middle of Jason’s gut. The longer they stood together, the larger the flames grew until the inferno incinerated his sanity.

  Jason stood up and walked to Sam’s side. He wrapped his left arm around her shoulder and pulled her back into his chest, which forced the doctor to finally release her. The doctor’s glare told Jason he was correct in interrupting their intimate huddle.

  “Jason, this is Dr. Toomey.” Sam relaxed into Jason’s chest. He took advantage of her position to secure his hold on her.

  “Doctor.” Jason shook the man’s scrawny hand, careful to avoid breaking his fingers. “Will he need more surgery?”

  Dr. Toomey’s brows drew together, and he took one step back. His posture became more rigid, if that was possible. “Not at this point. We’ve already inserted a titanium nail into his tibia. It should help stabilize his injury and allow the bone fragments to merge. We’re leaving the fibula to realign on its own.”