Zack Bradford's ego is so big that it can barely be contained in the stadium where he
plays professional football. The quarterback previously named Rookie of the Year
and deemed the Sexiest Man Alive is on top of the world. Or at least he was, until he
gets hit by a scandal that could end his career. To keep his multi-million dollar
contract with the family oriented Wildcats, Zack has to improve his playboy image,
starting with settling down with one woman…and he must do so in less than a week's
time!

Natalie Adair's life changed dramatically when she found out she had breast cancer
at the young age of twenty-one. Deciding to dedicate her second chance at life
helping others, Natalie accepts a job at one of the nation’s largest breast cancer
foundations, devoting her time to helping other women find and treat cancer early on.
The organization's most lucrative fundraiser every year is the auction of autographed
team merchandise by pro football players, and this year Natalie's in charge of the
event. Not only is it a great cause, but the event provides Natalie with the opportunity
to get up close and personal with incredibly hot players, including the quarterback
from college who swept her off her feet with a kiss of epic proportions. After her and
Zack Bradford's kiss in their sophomore year, Natalie went right back to being
invisible…that is, until their two paths cross again.

Zack can't believe his luck when a beautiful saint, one that actually works for a cancer
charity for Christ’s sake, practically falls into his lap. She is just the woman he needs
to save his job. The only problem? The tiny, feisty, and somewhat familiar blonde flat
out turns him down. Zack welcomes the challenge of having to actually work to woo a
woman for once, but he warns Natalie that once he decides he wants to play, he only
plays to win.

Will Natalie be able to resist Zack's persistence and charisma, or will she overcome
her insecurities and end up falling for the player?

ALL IN PLAYING TO WIN
By Lane Hart

COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue
were created from the author's imagination and are not to be construed
as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted and trademarked status of
various products within this work of fiction.
© 2015 Editor's Choice Publishing
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be
reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express
written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.
For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed "Attention:
Permissions Coordinator" at the address below.
Editor's Choice Publishing P.O. Box 10024 Greensboro, NC 27404

Edited by Wendy Ely
Cover by vocaldesign

https://www.fiverr.com/vocaldesign

Photo ©

iStockphoto.com

WARNING: THIS BOOK IS INTENDED FOR MATURE
AUDIENCES 18+ ONLY AND CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEX
SCENES AND ADULT LANGUAGE!

Table of Contents

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five
Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter
Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue

Dedication
For all the fighters, survivors and breast cancer angels.

Chapter One
Zack Bradford
Easing down into my jumbo leather recliner, I inhale a deep calming
breath, in through my nose and out through my mouth. My aching
glutes and quads protest when I pull the lever to lift them in the air,
but I assure them that they can finally relax after a long day that
started at seven a.m. this morning.
I pop the top on the first of many cold beers, giving my Nazi trainer
the proverbial finger while turning on the fourth quarter of the Eagles
and Cowboys' game. Unfortunately, the fantasy football ticker rolling
across the bottom of the screen distracts me from the action. The
repetitive reminder of how shitty I played Thursday night is
threatening to kill my moment of Zen. Or it was until my doorbell
rings, echoing through the house and beating the mocking
performance ticker to the punch.
Fuck.
I'm sure as hell not expecting anyone, but I have an idea who it might
be after I failed to reply to his idiotic text messages. Besides, only a
handful of people are on my approved guest list at the guard house. I
consider ignoring the interruption, but know it's a lost cause. It's
unlikely that the persistent bastard will just give up and go away.

Grumbling to myself and apologizing to my muscles, I ease my way
up and out of the chair to answer the damn door. Pulling it open I
come face to face with Jake Young, my best friend and go-to wide
receiver on the field. But of course he isn't alone. A scantily dressed
blonde chick is clinging to him tighter than a pair of skinny jeans,
rubbing a hand over his chest and down his stomach. Or she was, until
she sees me and turns around, immediately dropping her hands from
him.
Great, this is an intervention.
"What the fuck are you doing home alone at eight o'clock on a
Sunday night when we've got the day off?" Jake asks, while
simultaneously reaching around with both hands to grope the bimbo
who's now facing me. The woman has huge fake tits, and it looks like
those bad boys are about to float right out of her low cut top.
"Oh my God!" the blonde exclaims, a hand covering her blood red
mouth that's painted to match her two sizes too small shirt. "I can't
believe Zack Bradford is standing right in front of me!"
I smirk when Jake rolls his soulless, nearly black eyes in jealousy. He
should be used to it by now. It's nothing new for me to garner more
attention than all the other players. I'm the star quarterback, Heisman
Trophy winner, first round draft pick and last season's Rookie of the
Year. Oh, and of course I'm also better looking.
While Jake is by no means considered ugly with short

cropped brown hair and lean athletic build, I'm several inches taller at
six-five, bigger with two-hundred forty pounds of pure muscle, have
blonde hair that's earned me shampoo sponsors, and I'm People's
Sexiest Man Alive, two years running.
Women rarely refuse Jake, but they can't resist me. That fact, along
with my inability to turn them down, is the reason I got dumped four
months ago by my ex-girlfriend, Lacy. Possibly my baby's mama.
"I'm not in the mood for this shit tonight, Jake," I tell him, sounding
like the biggest fucking chick ever. I should go ahead and add "/ have
a headache" just to make my pussy statement complete.
"Mandy here is a huge fan, and I'm sure she'll do whatever it takes to
get you in the mood. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" he asks the slutty
woman. She nods her empty head enthusiastically.
This is the moment where I seriously regret confessing to the bastard
that I think my dick is broken.
Without another word, Jake urges the woman forward into my house
and follows. I sigh in defeat and have no choice but to close the door
behind them.
Heading back to the dark living room lit up by my ridiculously large
flat screen, I watch Jake pull out a set of tri-folded papers from the
back pocket of his jeans and toss them on the coffee table. We've
done this so many times before that he doesn't have to tell me what
they are. I know

they're our attorney's CYA (Cover Your Ass) forms signed by Big
Tits to keep us out of jail and out of tabloids. An agreement that all
types of physical contact are allowed and have been consented to, and
a non-disclosure agreement guaranteeing the slut will keep her mouth
shut afterwards or our attorneys will sue the fuck out of her.
If my ex-girlfriend knew I could fill our team's massive stadium with
similar papers that had been signed during the year she and I had been
together, she'd see that I'm an even bigger dick than what she
currently believes. As it is, she thinks I was only unfaithful to her a
handful of times.
I just never specified how many hands it would take to hold them all.
Jake crashes on one end of the tan sectional while Big Tits stands
nervously in the middle of the room like she isn't sure what she should
do. I pick up my can of beer from the coffee table ready to try and
relax again in my favorite recliner when the woman's hands are
suddenly on me, fumbling to undo my pants.
Holy hell! This slut isn't wasting any time. I almost spill my beer
down her blouse before I recover.
"Whoa, baby. Why don't you take care of Jake first?" I tell her, taking
a step back so I'm out of her reach.
I'm not ready to explain that lately my cock's been racking up on the
delay of game penalties. I really didn't want that particular rumor
floating around. I'm content being the league's playboy, rather than
limpboy, thank you very

much.
Blondie takes my directive in stride and sashays in her four inch heels
back over to Jake. Gnawing eagerly on his bottom lip, he smacks the
tops of his spread thighs, inviting her to climb aboard.
I settle back into my front row seat and watch as she straddles Jake's
lap and crushes her mouth over his. He doesn't waste any time raising
her short, black skirt. He kindly flashes me her ass, covered only by a
hot pink thong before he palms a handful of her flesh. It's a nice ass,
but it isn't Lacys.
Fuck. I have to stop thinking shit like that.
Looking down at my lap, there's still no response from my cock.
Maybe it really is broken. I may even need to go see a doctor or some
shit.
It could be that it's just tired of being used and abused by the
revolving door of gold-digging whores. Honestly, I feel like I've
fucked at least half of the country's female population, and other than
those few seconds I get off, it all just seems so repetitive and
unmemorable.
The excited voices of the sportscasters easily yank my attention away
from the live peep show and back to the television. Oh look, the
Eagles scored a touchdown, tying things up with only two minutes
left in the game. I watch the replay of the forty-eight yard reception
and only glance back over to the couch when I see movement.
Jake's busy laying Big Tits out on her back in the curve

of the sofa. With expert efficiency, he relieves her of her short skirt
and thong while her namesake heaves from her breath coming in
pants. Spreading her lean thighs, he lowers his head and starts feasting
on her pussy, making her body writhe while she moans and calls out
his name.
Why of all damn things does he have to go and do that, making me
feel even shittier? Probably because he isn't a selfish jerk like me. But
I have to say that it's one thing for me to stick my condom wrapped
cock in a record breaking number of sluts and quite another to put my
mouth on them.
Hell. Fucking. No.
I refuse to drink from a cup after someone else, so I'm sure as shit not
going to eat what's already been pounded by God only knows how
many other dudes' cocks. Although, that still doesn't explain why I
never went down on my ex.
After we broke up, Lacy called me out in a club full of people,
including her new four-eyed guy, for never going down on her. I
admit, I probably should have my man card revoked for not licking
the pussy of the most gorgeous woman in the fucking world. Lacy
was practically a virgin when we started dating, innocent and so damn
sweet. I can't figure out why I never pleasured her in the entire year
we dated.
I'm a self-centered prick, that's why.
For the past few months it's been a coin toss as to whether or not my
dick will cooperate when I need the bastard. My unfortunate problem
started right around the

time Lacy dumped me, and it's only gotten worse since she told me
she's pregnant and there's a one in four chance it might be my baby.
I'm almost certain my condition is psychological and not physical
since I'm only twenty-five. At least I hope that's all it is.
After Big Tits comes screaming like a banshee, Jake flips their
positions. Now straddling him, she frantically unzips his jeans, pulls
out his cock, and inhales it like she's competing in a hot dog eating
contest.
Damn. The woman's gag reflex is clearly non-existent.
Of course my cock decides to jump to attention now because I'm a
receiver not a giver when it comes to fucking. As long as random,
nameless women keep hitting their knees for me, I'll greedily take
whatever they offer without giving them anything in return.
The way I see it, it's not my responsibility to get them off if they
throw themselves at me. I'm just a scratch-off lottery ticket. A chance
for them to hit the big jackpot payday. And if they don't win a prize
then I become a trophy fuck. Bragging rights they can tell all their
friends about. I should have t-shirts made to hand out that say, "/ rode
Zack Bradford's famous cock," making it easier for them to spread the
word around.
They probably think that if they fuck me real good I'll fall in love with
them or some shit.
Never going to happen.
So, if they want to use me, then I use them up whenever

they offer.
Back on the sofa, Jake looks like he's in heaven as he raises his hips to
meet the back of Big Tit's throat, moaning encouragement to her the
whole time. He grabs handfuls of her fake blonde hair as he guides
her mouth up and down his cock. When he apparently can't take any
more he pulls her head away.
"Get your fucking top off before I roll this rubber on or I'll rip it off,"
Jake growls at her. She quickly complies while he pulls a condom out
from his pants pocket and suits up.
Jake and I should probably consider investing in something stronger
than latex for our promiscuous lifestyle. Do they make Kevlar
condoms?
And goddamn! When freed, the woman's tits are even bigger than
they'd seemed, upgrading her to Ginormous Tits. Those bitches don't
even try to bounce while she rides Jake's dick like a cowgirl on speed.
My cock throbs under my zipper, now ready to try and make up for
my recent hit or miss pattern, as I watch them fuck. I've still been
screwing a few women a week, although nowhere near my previous
record of several women a day, or better yet, at the same time, while I
was technically in a relationship with Lacy.
If the NFL instituted a category for man-whoring, well, Hall of Fame
here I come.
While I'd been lost in thought the rodeo with Jake has ended.
Ginormous Tits is looking over at me and licking her

lips like she's ready to mount up again. She seems hesitant, like she's
unsure if I'll turn her down. I haven't quite figured that one out yet,
either.
Oh, what the hell. I better get off while my dick's cooperating. No
telling when it'll be ready to get off the bench and play again.
"Come on, baby. You gonna put on a show like that and then leave
me hanging?" I ask and she smiles coyly before climbing off Jake's
cock.
I reach and sit my beer on the coffee table, so I can undo the fly of my
jeans to push them and my boxers out of the way. Pulling my cock
out, I don't make a move to get up, hoping she'll take the hint.
God bless her heart. She kneels right down between my legs and
swallows my long, hard length down her throat. If this woman isn't a
porn star then she missed her calling in life. She could deep throat
with the best of them.
"Fuck, woman," I groan when I quickly start to feel the tightening at
the base of my spine. That's what a fickle dick will do to you.
"I'm not going to last baby. You gonna take it all?" I ask in warning
and whatever her name is nods with her mouth
full. Hell yes.
Knowing from past experience that I'll get too rough with her if I
touch her head, I grab the arms of the leather chair and thrust down
her throat so hard I see spots when I come.

Jake barks out a laugh after Ginormous Tits stands up and goes back
over to sit on his lap. "At least you know your dick's not broken," he
teases. "Although, you still might need to get it checked out for
coming faster than a virgin,
bro."
I flip him off, even though making my middle finger work on
command is difficult to accomplish at the moment.
After a few minutes of recovery I stand up and finish my one lonely
beer, already wanting to sink my neglected cock somewhere in her
again. Anywhere will do.
"Let's go," I tell them as I start down the hall for one of my four lower
level guest bedrooms. I sure as hell don't want any wet spots in my
bed, and I'm certain there are going to be a lot of fucking wet spots
before this night is over.
Knowing the drill, Jake is instantly up and carrying Ginormous Tits in
his arms. Her giggles follow me down the hall. I pull off my shirt and
strip out of my already unzipped jeans and boxers before he
unceremoniously throws the woman on the king-sized bed. Her whole
body, except for her tits, bounce from the amount of force he uses.
"You think you can handle both of us fucking you at the same time,
sweetheart?" Jake asks. I'd bet my Mercedes that he doesn't remember
her name either.
The naked woman chews on her bottom lip and stretches her arms
over her head. "Oh my God yes!" she says with another annoying
giggle.

"Top or bottom?" I ask Jake.
He grabs a handful of condoms from the sex drawer beside the bed
and throws them on the mattress before he begins undressing.
Promiscuous as fuck we might be, stupid we're not. I've only ever
trusted Lacy to go bareback with, and look how well that shit turned
out for me.
"You know I'm all about the tits, so I'll take bottom," Jake responds
with a grin. "At least this round."
That's fine with me. I'm more of an ass man myself, and have never
really cared much for huge, fake breasts. I've always been afraid I'll
squeeze one too hard and they'll burst like a water balloon or some
shit.
I tear open a foil wrapper and roll the condom on my cock that's hard
as a rock and ready to go again. All that's left is to wait for Jake to get
in position. He finally stretches out on the mattress and pulls
Ginormous Tits on top of him. After she lowers herself down on his
cock he groans. Spreading the wetness of her arousal, he fingers her
tight backdoor, making her moan.
"Oh fuck, she's ready. Aren't you, sweetheart?" he asks and she gasps
out a "Yes." Good enough for me.
I climb up behind her, grip her ass with both hands and thrust deep
into her tightness with one hard push.
My filthy rich neighbors probably all hear her scream when she
comes the first time between us. She might not be Lacy, but she'll do
for now. She's here, ready and willing

to do anything we want all fucking night.

Chapter Two
Natalie Adair
My teeth are chattering, a ridiculous side effect of my overwhelming
nervousness, as I follow along behind the team's public relation's man
through the maze of their state of the art administrative facility.
I can't believe I'm actually here, in the Wildcat's stadium, getting
ready to meet some of the best NFL players in the league! Not to
mention some of the hottest. But there's a bigger purpose for my visit,
I remind my long neglected libido.
I'm here to get a box full of pink Wildcats' merchandise signed by
several of the star players for the breast cancer fundraiser auction. For
the last few years it's been one of the most lucrative events for the
foundation I work for, and it's up to me to make it a success this year.
My goal is to beat last year's earnings by at least twenty percent.
"Here we are, Ms. Adair," Bill Jones says after he flips on the lights in
the empty conference room. The middle-aged, slightly balding man
kindly sets the big cardboard box down on the shiny wooden table
that runs down the center of the fancy space. "Go ahead and get set
up. We've

scheduled each of the players to stop by in ten minute increments to
make this go smoothly for you and them. I'll be in my office if you
need anything. Just let me know when you're finished up, and I'll help
you load all this into your car."
"Thank you so much, Mr. Jones. We really appreciate your team
helping out again this year," I tell him graciously.
He gives me a half-smile, slipping his hands casually into the pockets
of his khakis. "It's a cause that'll always be close to my heart. My
mother was a breast cancer survivor. She passed away from kidney
cancer seven years ago."
"I'm so sorry to hear that," I say sincerely. I try to swallow past the
lump of worry in my throat after he nods and leaves the room. One of
the toughest parts of my job is dealing with the constant reminder that
cancer has a way of popping back up. I've been in remission for
almost three years, and each and every day I worry that I'll do
something to anger the cancer gods and they'll send me right back
through hell.
Shaking off the concern as best I can, I begin pulling out and
arranging piles of pink towels, gloves, footballs, hats and jerseys that
each of the starting players will soon be in to sign. There are two of
everything for each of them to autograph, except for the quarterback
who is by far the favorite (especially for the female fans). This year I
suggested that because of his popularity, we should ask him to sign
twenty items.

Once everything is in nice, neat piles, I run my cold but sweaty hands
down the front of my gray skirt suit, making sure it's still mostly
wrinkle free. I can't resist pulling out the small, round compact mirror
from my purse to double check my hair and makeup.
I never realized how important my hair was to me until I didn't have
any. Now my thick, blonde hair is a little longer than shoulder length,
and no one would guess that I'd been bald only three and a half years
ago. If only my boobs could grow back the same way.
Damn it!
I'm in the middle of scolding myself for my all too familiar
narcissistic thoughts when I see a large figure approaching the glass
fish bowl conference room. A second later, in walks the first of fifteen
big, handsome, and incredibly intimidating men I'll be meeting today.
"Hi, I'm Natalie. Thank you so much for coming," I tell the buff,
smiling cowboy. He looks like he just walked in from a rodeo instead
of a football field, which is really cute. "The Carolina Breast Cancer
Foundation sincerely appreciates your support of our annual auction."
"Oh, darlin', the pleasure is all mine," he says with an adorable
Southern drawl that matches perfectly with his hat. Jonathan Meyers,
the Wildcats' tight end, is just the first of many charming men I'm
looking forward to meeting over the next few hours.

Zack
I begrudgingly wake up after my phone rings for what has to be the
hundredth time. I tried to just ignore it, but the fucking thing won't
stop.
Giving up on sleep, I finally stumble my naked ass out of bed and
head for the pile of clothes on the floor. Eventually I'm able to dig my
phone out of the pocket of the jeans I had on last night.
I squint to glance around the dark bedroom that I soon realize is
definitely not mine, but one of my many guest rooms. Last night starts
coming back to me when I notice Jake sprawled out on the other side
of the bed asleep. It appears that Ginormous Tits is thankfully gone.
Looking down at the screen in my palm I know nothing good will
come from the call I'm about to take. It's my manager and he never
calls this early. According to my phone, it's only seven-fucking-thirty
in the morning.
"Why are you calling me so goddamn early?" I grumble when I
finally answer. I would've had another hour of sleep before I had to
get up and go meet my trainer.
"Zack, what the fuck did you do last night?" Dean exclaims.
I have to pull the phone away from my ear when he screams, which is
very un-Deanish. The man loves me because I make him rich, and
although I have to put up with his constant nagging about one thing or
another, he's never

talked to me this way before.
"I was home all night, why? What's going on?" I ask.
"What's going on is your ass and Jake's are on the line. Your contracts
are on the chopping block, and if you weren't two of the best players
in the league, your careers would already be over!"
"Whoa, slow down and explain," I tell him as my heart starts racing.
Surly he's just overreacting.
I haven't played all that great in the last few games, but I'm still
ranked as one of the best quarterbacks in the league. They wouldn't
even think of dropping me because my backup, Alex Marshall, is
ancient. He can't throw for shit anymore and he's got a bad knee.
Instead of retiring, the Wildcats signed his old ass after he left the
Dolphins the year before they picked me up. Marshall went down in
the record books as having one of the worst seasons in all of
quarterback history, with just three touchdowns and twelve
interceptions. The Wildcats only won one single game that entire
year, finishing last in the league, which is how they ended up getting
me as the first round draft pick.
"Jake still there?" Dean asks, completely blindsiding
me.
I look over at the still sleeping man and wonder if Dean is psychic or
some shit.
"No."
"Whatever," he says, not buying my flat out lie. "You

both need to get the fuck to the stadium, now. Jerry wants to see you
with all of us present."
I freeze at that last sentence, and the way my stomach rolls it's
possible I might actually throw up.
Jerry Tucker is the owner of the Wildcats. Whatever is going on has
to be bad for him to want to meet with us. I've only seen him once in
his office and that was when I was first signed by the team over a year
ago. That's the only time anyone ever meets with him, when they get
signed...or when they get canned.
Fuck..
"We're on our way," I say quickly before ending the call.
"Jake, get your ass up! We've got to go!" I shout while grabbing my
jeans.
"Fuck you and your goddamn phone," he mutters, pulling a pillow
over his head.
After I zip my pants up I turn on the overhead light and walk around
to his side of the bed to yank the pillow off, throwing it against the
opposite wall.
"Dude, what the fuck?" he asks, scowling and finally blinking open
his dark eyes.
"Dean just called seriously pissed. He said Jerry wants to see us both.
Now"
That gets him up without another word.
"Where'd Mandy go?" he asks after he starts pulling on his clothes.
I'm shocked that he actually knew her damn

name. "She rode over here with me last night."
"Hell if I know, not that I'm complaining."
With the light on, it's obvious that the bedroom is a fucking disaster
area. There's more used condoms littering the floor than most men
probably go through in a month. It's a reminder that Jake and I fucked
that slut every which way possible while she kept begging for more.
I'm just glad I don't have to deal with cleaning up this mess. That's
what I pay my housekeepers good money for.
To save time, I put on the rest of the clothes I'd been wearing the
night before, brush my teeth, and a minute later, we're both pulling
out of my housing development in our own cars on the way to what
sounds like is going to be a lovely meeting. I have no idea how shitty
it's about to go down.
The owner's secretary avoids eye-contact with us when she ushers
Jake and I into the conference room. The owner, both of our managers
and agents, head coach and some man in a suit I don't recognize all
look up at us like we've pissed in their cereal bowls.
"Zack, Jake, you're in deep shit!" Jerry bellows while we take a seat at
the table. "Go ahead, let them hear it," he says to the man in the suit.
"Does the name Amanda Roberts ring a bell?" the stranger asks with a
dark raised eyebrow and almost a smirk.
Thank God, the name is not familiar.

"Mandy?" Jake asks, making me cringe.
"Yes, she probably goes by Mandy," the suit replies and then pushes
some papers down the conference table to us.
It's a copy of her CYA paperwork.
"Is it true you made her sign these documents last night?" he asks.
Jake swallows and nods. "That's what our attorneys, Mike Stevens
and Darryl Adams, told us we needed to do."
"Stevens and Adams have been fired," Jerry says curtly.
"You fired our personal attorneys for us?" I ask.
"Yes. This is Devon James. He's your attorney now."
Oh-kay then. The lean, long-faced, greasy-haired man does look
shady like a lawyer.
"What's going on?" I ask, uneasy from all the shitty looks being
thrown our way.
"This morning Ms. Roberts told her civil attorney that you two got her
drunk last night, made her sign some papers that she doesn't
remember signing, and then you both," he clears his throat,
"proceeded to have intercourse with her for hours, including
simultaneously. s that true?" our new attorney asks.
I scrub my hands over my face instead of pinching myself to try and
wake my ass up. This has to be some kind of ridiculous nightmare.
One where I have to talk about

having a threesome with a room full of people. One where our
response to a very personal question might actually affect whether we
continue to play football or not. The only thing that would possibly
make this worse is if my parents were sitting in the room with us.
"That wasn't a rhetorical question," Jerry snaps when we stay silent.
"Answer it!"
"Yes, except for the drunk part," Jake replies.
"Did you see her drink anything?" the attorney asks.
"A beer or two, maybe a shot while we were at the bar," Jake tells
him.
"She says you got her drunk, made her sign a few papers, and then
basically took advantage of her while she was under the influence."
"That is bullshit!" I exclaim. "She wasn't drunk and we didn't take
advantage of her. She was a very willing participant, if not the
instigator."
"Right. Well, Ms. Robert's attorney says the...contracts she signed are
null and void since she was mentally incapacitated when she signed
them. She's going public with all this, including a picture of you two
in bed...naked together unless we can reach a monetary settlement
with her ASAP."
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
I feel my face catch fire in embarrassment. It's probably the first time
since I was thirteen years old getting a hard-on

in science class. I'm a grown ass man, I don't fucking blush. Until
today.
"It's not like we touched each other. We're not gay," Jake mutters. I'm
thankful he's overcome the shame to respond accordingly.
"Do you think anyone will actually believe that when they see this?"
The attorney who I'm now referring to as Satan asks us before he
pulls out an eight by ten photo from his briefcase. He's kind enough to
slide it to us across the long wooden conference table so that everyone
can get a good look at it.
It's definitely a picture of me and Jake, not touching, but in bed
asleep, both naked, with a small space between us where a woman
had been. Unfortunately, no one had taken the time to edit it using
those nice little blurry circles to block out our cocks in all their
morning wooded glory.
Goddamn gold-digging whores!
"Ah, shit," Jake grumbles before covering his face with both hands.
"She wants a million-"
"A fucking million?" I exclaim.
"A million from each of you," Satan finishes.
"Fuck," I exhale.
"The franchise is going to pay it, she's going to sign a mile high stack
of non-disclosure documents while sober and in front of a room full
of witnesses, but you two are at

the end of the line," Jerry says. "One more even minor incident and
you're gone, contracts voided under the moral turpitude clause. And
you better believe I'll use this shit to blackball you with every other
team in the league," he says, pointing a finger at the picture. "No one
will want you!"
"Wow." There are no other words.
"You've both been warned before. Keep your dicks in your pants and
out of the press and fucking civil suits. Or better yet, get a goddamn
girlfriend! Not some whore, but a regular woman that lasts more than
a fucking night!" Jerry yells at us, his face red in anger and a vein in
his temple throbbing. Then suddenly his wrathful expression fades
and he stands up.
"In fact, that's exactly what you're going to do if you're going to keep
playing for this family-oriented team. You're going to find a fucking
saint and take her out where the paparazzi can see you, not just once,
but for weeks. Do you hear me? Weeks! This is damage control for
future's sake, too. No more sluts on planes, no more young girls, no
more threesomes, and no more contracts! If you think a woman is so
untrustworthy that she needs to sign something in writing before she
fucks you, then don't fuck her!"
After Lacy dumped me I had become more promiscuous in public
than ever before, including getting caught fucking two flight
attendants mid-flight in the first class bathroom. I still felt a little bad
about them both getting fired, and one getting divorced.

Of course the media had noticed my mile high club exploits. I tried to
do damage control at the time but Lacy adamantly refused to help me
by pretending we were back together. Jake, well, he's always been an
all-out man-whore. He just barely squeaked out of a statutory rape
charge a few months back when he idiotically screwed a
fifteen-year-old girl who lied and told him she was eighteen. Luckily
for him, the shit actually went down after midnight on her sixteenth
birthday. We were both fucking disgusting.
"If this gets out, how many more women are going to come forward
with the same threesome story wanting a handout?" Satan asks,
looking between the two of us.
I try to do the math in my head, but I'm too angry, too embarrassed,
too...everything, to think or respond.
"Maybe a dozen," Jake says. "This year," he adds, and I want to sock
him in the jaw after his brutal honesty.
"From now on, you two are settling down!" Jerry screams, smacking
his palms on the table in front of us. "No more partying! I want you
both looking so pussy whipped you can't breathe without your
woman's say so. Everywhere you go, she goes. f I hear of a single slut
near either of you, you're done! Maybe then you'll stop thinking with
your dicks and screwing off long enough to finally win some
goddamn games. That's what we're paying you a fortune to do - play
football. Not to be fuck-ups by disgracing this franchise and the entire
league!"
"But...Alex Marshall," I start. "If you let me go-"

"You. Are. Replaceable. Just like every other player on this team.
There's hundreds of guys who'd kill for a shot at your job, and some
who will probably even do it better. I'll throw you out on your ass and
smear your name quicker than you can say 'blackballed.' f you think
I'll keep putting up with your shit just because you've got a decent arm
then you're a fucking idiot."
Damn, that's a low blow.
I've always been the best, but I haven't started the season out so great.
I'd thrown at least one interception in each of the first three games,
and been sacked more times than I can count. I know I'm lucky to
have made it this far in the league, and I realize I need to get my shit
together on and off the field.
Especially if I'm about to be someone's father.
I need to keep my contract, so I can make sure Lacy and the baby
have everything they could ever want or need if it comes down to it.
It's not like I have any type of backup plan in place if I can't keep
playing football. And Jerry's right, there's not enough quick fucks
from all the sluts in the world worth losing an eighty million dollar
contract for.
"You've both got until Sunday's home game to find and serve up your
goody two-shoes on a silver fucking platter for the press, or this time
you're done!" Jerry barks. Then he strides out of the room, slamming
the door behind him.
Fuck.

Chapter Three
Natalie
I look down at my cell phone again, knowing no more than a minute
could've passed since the last time I checked the time. Zack Bradford,
the "star" quarterback, is late.
An hour late.
If his items didn't bring in the most money for our fundraiser then I
would've already given up. But no, I need his famous signature if I'm
going to raise the ten thousand dollars I need. The money will pay for
a hundred women who can't afford mammograms to receive one for
free.
It seems like such a small number that we'll be able to help, and I
wish we could do something to raise even more money. But if just
one of those hundred women have breast cancer, hopefully it'll be
caught early enough to save her life.
I boxed up all the signed merchandise and sat down in one of the
leather conference room chairs, spinning in circles while I waited.
And waited. Then waited some more.
Now I'm really starting to get angry at the famous jerk. What an
arrogant ass! He's standing me up when women's lives could benefit
from his name scratched on a few

measly items. These early screenings could save the lives of mothers,
daughters, and grandmothers, but he can't take five minutes out of his
freaking day to help out!
There's also another more selfish reason I'm so determined to wait
Zack out.
It's been four years since the last time I've spoken to him...not that
many words were exchanged on that particular day.
It's disappointing to think that the man I've had a crush on since my
freshman year of college isn't as wonderful as I imagined him to be.
None of the other players had been late. Most had been early, and
they'd all been genuinely nice guys, even though they're famous.
I built Zack Bradford up on a pedestal in my fantasies right after I
started cheering on the sidelines for him in his very first college game.
Not that he ever noticed me in a school as big as ours. Well, except
for that away game during our sophomore year when we played
Virginia Tech.
On a read option play, Zack had held onto the football and ran it in for
a touchdown, coming from behind to win the game for our team in the
last few seconds. A bastard playing for Virginia Tech hit him late
after he'd scored and was already out of bounds. I'd been creamed by
Zack, landing flat on my back with his two hundred plus pounds of
hotness lying on top of me. His warm, sincere brown eyes had looked
down into mine as he asked if I was okay before helping me to my
feet. Then, for whatever reason,

he'd jerked his helmet off, grabbed my face with both hands and
kissed me. Not just a quick peck of a kiss, but a
honey-I'm-home-from-war-and-missed-you-like-crazy kiss.
It had been surreal, and afterwards I thought I'd received a concussion
or imagined it after taking the hit to the ground. But no, there were
video replays that confirmed Zack Bradford laid one on me that made
my knees weak and my heart race in front of the entire stadium and
televised audience.
I even deluded myself into thinking it had been more than a spur of
the moment kiss. That maybe he'd actually noticed me and wanted
me.
Wrong!
The man never looked at me again after that game.
A few days later I received the unexpected results of my biopsy and
dropped out of school to start treatment. So that kiss had just been a
single moment. An unbelievable, seriously romantic moment that I'll
never forget for as long as I live.
Just as I've given up all hope, the man of the hour - no make that now
almost two hours - finally appears, strolling in like he doesn't have a
care in the world. The ridiculously sexy man looks like a modern day
Viking warrior, and my first thought is that I'd like to be pillaged by
him. Sad but true.
Mr. Star Quarterback is unfortunately even more gorgeous than the
last time I saw him in person. His

normally blonde hair is wet, making it look darker. All his muscular
skin that's showing is shiny, and his clothing is dripping with sweat.
The normally unpleasant moisture has never looked so deliciously
good on anyone before.
I take a quick second to admire his tight fitting gray team tee stretched
across his massive chest that tapers into his narrow waist before I get
to his long legs covered by loose fitting, black workout pants. Zack
was big in college, but now he's.. .yummy size.
Apparently he's also become an ego-centric prick over the years, one
who thinks his time is more important than anyone else's. Or maybe
he's always been this way, but I just never made it past his devastating
good looks to notice.
"Hey, how's it going? You got some shit for me to sign?" he asks, his
eyes darting around and over to the items laid out on the table like
he's in a hurry. Ha! What an asshole!
"Mr. Bradford, it's so nice of you to finally make an appearance. You
obviously had more important things to do that required me to sit here
waiting an extra two hours for you to grace me with your almighty
presence. I'm sure that your workout absolutely couldn't wait until
later." Wow, I didn't know I had such a bitchy attitude in me. This
man managed to bring out the worst.
He just stands there, blinking his milk chocolate eyes down at me like
I just shocked the shit out of him. Crap, if I

piss him off and don't get these items signed then our fundraiser is
screwed. As much as I hate to admit it, last year his items brought in
the same amount of money as all the other players combined.
I take a deep breath to get my hormones under control and tone down
my snippiness. Before I can insincerely apologize, his high and
mighty speaks again.
"Sorry, I, ah, had a lot on my mind, and lost track of time," he says in
that deep, sexy baritone of his, making him sound almost genuine and
believable. Just hearing him speak a few words nearly wipes away my
anger, but I have no intention of letting him off so easy.
"Well then, let's get down to it so you can move on to more important
things in your busy day," I respond.
"Yes, let's...get down to it," he says, making the comment sound more
sensual than is appropriate. Then the tall, good looking bastard
actually smiles down at me in amusement. I have to look quickly
away from his Hershey eyes before I swoon. I really don't want the
cocky man to see he's already made me blush.
"You're so damn cute and tiny, like a...oh, I know," he says with a
snap of his fingers. "Like a miniature Barbie!"
My heart skips several beats. Maybe I actually imagined those very
bizarre words coming from his perfect mouth.
"And you look familiar. Have we.. .met before?" he asks, raking his
gaze up and down my body. It's obvious

from his pause that the word "met" could easily have been substituted
with "fucked."
My breath catches and I don't immediately respond. I wait those few
seconds, willing him to remember me. To remember us and that
amazing kiss, proving that it was more than a random, spontaneous,
heat of the moment occurrence. That it had meant...something to him,
damn it!
When there's no recognition my shoulders slump in disappointment. f
he doesn't remember then I'm certainly not going to embarrass myself
by trying to help him recall our moment. "No, this is the first time I've
had the pleasure of waiting two hours to meet you," I lie, although
technically, we've never exchanged names, just tongues. "Here's the
marker, and everything is laid out. Your name and jersey number
should be fine on each," I tell him exasperatedly, not looking at him
as I hold out the marker in his general direction.
"Do you know my jersey number?" he asks, not taking the offered
pen. I look up at him to see what he's playing at. Damn it, he
continues to give me that sexy, cocky grin.
"W-what?" I ask.
"Do you know my jersey number?"
"Why, have you forgotten it?" I ask.
Of course I know he wears the number fourteen. Same as from
college. I actually have several of his jerseys hanging in my closet,
not that I'd admit that shit in front of the arrogant prick. I'm seriously
considering using them to

line my cat's litter pan. I don't actually have a cat, but now I want to
go rescue one from the pound to do just that.
"Come on, it's a simple question," he teases, clearly not dropping the
issue or taking the offered marker to get this over with.
"Sixteen?" I huff out the wrong number just to be bitchy.
He crosses his massive arms over his wide expanse of chest and raises
a dirty blonde eyebrow. "Sixteen? No. That would be my sorry ass
backup's number."
"As shitty as you've been playing, Alex Marshall just might take your
job soon." This statement is complete bullshit, but I can't miss the
chance to try and bring his egotism down a notch.
Alex Marshall's a horrible player, washed up after eleven years in the
league. He was picked up by the Wildcats three years ago for pennies.
Even at five-foot-nothing and a little under a hundred pounds I might
make a better quarterback than Marshall. Jesus help the Wildcats if
Zack gets hurt.
The intimidatingly attractive man in front of me is not amused. His
strong, bristly, golden jaw drops and he actually scoffs. "Wow.
That's...really harsh."
"Oh, please. Like it's possible to bruise your enormous ego," I say
with a roll of my eyes. Although, he does look somewhat upset. He's
probably just a great actor.
"So not only are you cute, but you're a feisty little thing, too." He
shakes his head and then finally grabs the offered

marker to start signing.
After the last piece is marked and my box is loaded, I'm finally ready
to head out.
"Thank you, Mr. Bradford. I'm so sorry you had to take five minutes
from your incredibly busy day to help our cause."
I pick up the big, awkward box, lifting from my knees. Shit, this is
going to be a challenge. If I can just get to Mr. Jones's office then I'm
sure he'll help get it to my car.
"Yo, Polly Pocket? You need some help with your box?" the sexy jerk
behind me asks. I'm instantly offended by his innuendo and nickname.
I'm also momentarily distracted by the warmth of nostalgia that has
me recalling a happy childhood memory. Playing with the little
yellow Polly Pocket compact case that held the tiny wedding scene
for a miniature bride and groom. It was probably my all-time favorite
toy, and damn it, now he's tainted it!
"No, I've got it," I respond. In my rush to escape, I try to wedge the
wide ass cardboard box through the narrow doorway and then
immediately bounce backwards like a rubber ball when it doesn't fit.
"No, you don't," he says followed by a raspy laugh. He then reaches
over my head and lifts the box from my hands. "Here, let me. I'm an
expert at maneuvering large objects through tight spaces."
After his ridiculous comment he tilts the box through the door.
Waiting for me in the hallway, he holds it up at

shoulder level, balancing the box with one flat palm like it weighs
nothing. "Where to, Polly?"
"To Mr. Jones's office."
"Then lead the way, feisty lady," he says. "What's your name
anyway?"
"Natalie."
"Natalie?" he repeats in his deep baritone, simultaneously releasing a
dozen butterflies in my belly. "I like it. It's also a helluva lot sexier
than Polly."
"I'll be sure to tell my parents you approve of their name choice," I
say with another eye roll to hide my pleasure in hearing my name
come out from between his perfect lips. His bottom lip is all pouty
and fuller than the top, begging to be nipped.
Oh sweet baby Jesus, I'm losing it.
"So, Natalie, do you ever come to our home games?" he asks.
I walk swiftly in front of him, more than ready to get out of this
stadium before I embarrass myself even more. "A
few."
"Do you watch the rest on TV?"
"Maybe."
"Are you married?" he asks.
"What?" My high heels stop moving and I spin around to look at him.

"Marr-ied?" he says slowly. "As in, do you have a husband?"
Was he implying that I look so old that I should be married by now?
"No, I don't have a husband. I'm only twenty-five, thank you very
much."
"Hey, I'm twenty-five, too! When's your birthday?"
Did Zack Bradford seriously just ask me my birthday?
"January fourth."
"Then you're one month and ten days older than me." February
fourteenth. Of course the charming man is a Valentine's baby, which
also explained his jersey number.
"Thank you so much for pointing that out. Women love being
reminded that they're older than other people." I shake my head at his
audacity.
"Luckily for you, I happen to like older women." He chuckles and I
try to ignore his ridiculous flirting as I knock on Mr. Jones's door.
Apparently the man can't turn off the charm, and I don't know how
much more I can take before I lose control and start licking sweat off
of his massive body.
"Come in," Mr. Jones calls and I push his door open, glad to have a
buffer from the hot quarterback.
"Hi, Mr. Jones. I just wanted to let you know I'm all finished up."
He looks at the clock on the wall and then around me at the big man
holding the cardboard box.

"Oh, sure, Ms. Adair. I thought you'd already left and I'd just missed
you."
"I got held up waiting on a few players." One really, really late player.
"Oh, well, good luck with the auction. We'll see you on October
eighteenth?"
"Yeah, I can't wait," I tell him with a smile. I have tickets to the game,
and was embarrassingly selected to be part of the halftime event
thanks to my wonderful friends. But I'd do anything for those free
tickets.
I'll have to buy another player's jersey to wear to the game si nce I
now flat out refuse to wear the jackass's behind me. Maybe Jonathan
Meyers. He was a nice, polite Southern gentleman.
"How's it going, Zack?" Mr. Jones asks the arrogant man.
"Been better. How about you, Bill?" Zack responds, sounding almost
sad, which makes me glance back over my shoulder at him in
surprise. He's still just as gorgeous as he was thirty seconds ago.
"I'm good. Ready to see you guys kick some ass and hopefully make
the playoffs," Bill responds.
The Wildcats started the season oh and three, but all three games had
been close, and with the toughest teams on the schedule.
"We don't just want to make the playoffs, we're aiming

for the Super Bowl." Zack laughs. "Although, Polly, I mean, Miss
Adair here thinks Marshall might do a better job than me."
My face turns beet red at his remark. Only an idiot would really think
such a thing, which is exactly what Mr. Jones's look conveys.
"What can I say, I'm an Alex Marshall fan," I respond with a shrug,
hoping he'll buy the lie and let me leave.
"Right," both men say in unison, equally doubtful.
"Do you need some help getting the box to your car?" Mr. Jones asks.
"I'll take care of her box for her, Bill," Zack says, heavy with
innuendo again. What was he, a fifteen-year-old boy?
"Thanks again, Mr. Jones," I tell him as I head for the hallway and
quickly make my way to the parking lot.
"So you're coming to the game October eighteenth?" Zack asks from
behind me.
"Uh-huh."
"Well hopefully Marshall won't have taken my job by then, and you
can see me play."
"Uh-huh."
"Have dinner with me."
It sounded like I hallucinated him saying something about dinner.
That's just ridiculous.
"Natalie?" he asks.

"Huh?" I pull my keys out of my purse and hit the unlock button on
the key fob as we approach my Carolina blue Honda Fit. The same
color as the Wildcats team. Also the same color as UNC's, which is
where Zack and I went to school.
"Nice color," he says as I raise the hatchback.
"Thanks. It's my favorite." I step back for him to lower the box then
shut the hatch.
"Mine, too."
Wow, Zack Bradford and I have something in common. Who
would've thought?
"Okay, well, thanks for your help," I say as I start for the driver's
door.
"You didn't answer my question," Zack replies. Quickly moving his
large body, he stands against my driver side car door, blocking my
chance at a getaway.
Good Lord the man is huge this close up. He's so damn buff it should
be illegal to brandish such massive guns in public. Not to mention he
has the perfect, gorgeous face of a male model and smells like a warm
day at the beach. I try to focus on the Wildcats' logo on the center of
his t-shirt instead of his distracting face...or...entire body. He's too
damn incredible to take in and it's making my head hurt just trying.
"What question?" I ask. My mouth is so dry from practically panting
with my tongue hanging out that it's hard to speak those two words.

"Have dinner with me."
A sudden burst of laughter escapes me, sounding embarrassingly
similar to a girly giggle. I take a deep breath and close my eyes to try
and get over the shock of those four words. It's also easier to think
when I'm not looking at him. "That wasn't a question. It was a
statement."
"Fine. Will you have dinner with me?" he amends. I gasp and my eyes
fly open when one of his thick knuckles suddenly begins stroking its
way up my neck until it's underneath my chin. Tipping it up I'm
forced to look into his warm, brown eyes. His deep voice lowers when
he says, "Or we could just go to my place and you could be dinner."
Oh God. My knees feel wobbly like they're going to pull a fast one
and embarrass me in front of Zack freaking Bradford, sending me
down on my ass. Use your brain, woman! He only wants to screwyou,
and basically just says as much!
I blink to break contact with his hypnotic gaze and take a step
backwards so that his hand will fall away. "No, thanks. Hope you
have a great season," I squeak out as I try to figure out a way to
maneuver around his humongous body.
"No?" He jerks back against my car like I tasered him, using a word
he's never heard before. Probably hasn't, which makes me even more
confident in my response. And great, now there's probably a giant
quarterback size dent in the side of my car.

"No. I decline. The opposite of yes. Could you please move now?" I
ask with my hands on my hips while my cheeks begin to feel
sunburnt.
"I'm unfamiliar with such a foreign concept. What exactly is this 'no'
you speak of?" he deadpans.
That stupid girly giggle slips out again before I can respond. "Google
it."
When the man still doesn't move I grumble and walk around to the
passenger side. I'm sliding in and over the console to the driver seat
before he realizes what I'm up to and yanks the driver's side door
open. Shoot, I should've locked them after I got in.
"Are you seriously running away from me?" Zack asks with a deep
chuckle, lowering to his haunches to get eye level. Oh and that just
isn't fair. Don't look at his face! Don't look at his face!
I put the key in the ignition, crank my car in response, and then reach
for my seatbelt.
"Fine, go ahead and drive your very sexy ass out of here, Polly
Pocket, but I'm not giving up on you."
What does that mean and why do I feel so giddy that he asked me
out? He didn't remember me from college, so is he actually interested
in me? No way. Maybe he just felt guilty for being so late and doesn't
want me to bad mouth him around town. Yeah right.
"Nice meeting you, Mr. Bradford," I tell him and he

stands back up.
"Until next time, Miss Adair."
He finally shuts the door and I smile at his promise, trying to come to
my senses as I drive away. I make the mistake of looking back at him
in my rearview mirror, almost expecting him to have disappeared
because I'd imagined the whole meeting. But nope, there he still
stands. Zack Bradford is the hottest man alive, and he just asked out
little ole me.
Zack
I shake my head in disbelief. No? A woman, one who's definitely not
married because I did think to ask this time, flat out refused to have
dinner with me? It was turning out to be a hell of a day.
I'm on the brink of losing my job, the first and only love of my life,
unless I find a saint to pretend to be my girlfriend. Miraculously
enough, I accidentally stumble upon the perfect woman, a woman
who's not only gorgeous but actually works for a cancer organization
for Christ's sake, and she turns me down. The one woman that is
guaranteed to keep me in the league and she refuses to even have a
meal with me. Hell. No.
I pull my phone out of my pants pocket while I walk back

into the stadium, Googling the local breast cancer office and calling it.
"Thank you for calling the Carolina Breast Cancer Foundation,"
answers a feminine voice.
"Oh, hi. I'm trying to reach Natalie Adair."
"Okay, just a minute." The woman puts me on hold and I listen to
elevator music as I make my way to the locker room.
"Sir? Ms. Adair's not here. She had an appointment out of the office
and was supposed to be back hours ago, but she's not. I hope nothing's
wrong," she says, actually sounding concerned for her coworker.
"Would you like her voicemail?"
Yeah, I was what was wrong. I'd been so pissed after this morning's
fun little meeting that I'd tried to burn off the anger by doing some
heavy cardio up and down the stadium bleachers. Only when I'd gone
back to the locker room hours later did I finally see the reminder of
the missed appointment on my phone.
I'd still been seething in anger when I walked into that conference
room. But then the sexy, blonde pixie tore into me, ripping me a new
one for being late. I've never had a woman speak to me like that,
treating me like I'm the biggest asshole in the world. I am, of course.
She's just the first woman to actually call me out for it. The fact that
she didn't hold back because I happen to be a famous football player
was pretty damn amusing. It was a nice change of

pace from all the flocks of gold-diggers worshiping me on their knees,
and for whatever reason, maybe because I'm a glutton for more
punishment, I have to see that ballbusting woman again.
Which is why I need her phone number.
Back to my phone call, I quickly come up with a lie and reply to the
woman still waiting for my response. "Oh, well I'm calling from the
Wildcats' stadium and I think she forgot her...paperwork. She just left,
so if you could you give me her cell number, I'll try and reach her
before she gets back
to the office."
"Well sure, hang on," she replies and I hear paper rustling. "Okay,
here we go. It's 614-1311."
"Great, thanks," I say, then hang up to text her before I forget it.
Damn concussions.
I plug the numbers into a new message, and send, Here's my number
in case you change your mind about dinner - Zack (#14 NOT #16).
Next I dial up the player relations' office to try and do some damage
control.
"This is Diane, how can I help you?" one of the assistants answers.
"Diane, hey this is Zack. Can you do me a favor?"
"Sure, Zack, anything."
"Could you put together a gift basket with one of my signed women's
jersey, stuffed wildcat, and whatever else

you can round up then have someone run it over to the breast cancer
foundation on Trade Street for Natalie Adair
ASAP?"
"Well, sure. I can have it out in about fifteen minutes."
"Thanks, and will you put a card in it that says, 'Sorry I was late.
Please have dinner with me, so I can make it up
to you?'"
"Seriously?" She asks.
"Yes. Why? Too cheesy?" I cringe in concern. I've never done this
sort of shit before.
"No, it's really sweet! It's just, I never thought Zack Bradford would
have to go to all that trouble for a date." She giggles again.
"Yeah, me, either. Thanks, Diane," I tell her, and then end the call.
Natalie is definitely unlike any woman I've ever met. Although, for
some reason she looks so damn familiar. I know the paparazzi will
love her, especially where she works and her looks. She's classically
beautiful and flawless, like a less innocent looking, travel-size Barbie.
I know her sexy, petite body is so light I can probably pick her up
with one hand and carry her off to do all sorts of naughty things with
her. But best of all is her perfect heart shaped ass swaying underneath
her tight black skirt, the image of which was instantly branded into
my brain. Just the thought of her amazing ass has my cock growing
heavy.
Unfortunately, her big and beautiful jade eyes pull me in

and see right through me at the same time. When she called me out
for being late, and for basically being a self-important arrogant prick,
it actually bothered me. Maybe because her unimpressed attitude
reminds me of Lacy, the only other woman I've ever known, other
than my own mother, that's worth a damn. I don't want to be an
asshole anymore, and not just because my career is on the line. f I'm
going to be a father, then I'm really going to have to get my shit
together. I want to be a decent role model for my son or daughter,
otherwise Lacy will never let me see him or her.
I keep telling myself that Lacy's baby isn't mine. I mean, we only had
sex maybe five or six times around the time she got pregnant. I'm sure
her and her new man were together a hell of a lot more times, making
the baby likely his, or one of the other two guys she's fucked. I still
can't believe the straight-laced, conservative woman had a freaking
foursome. Goes to show that I guess you don't know people as well as
you think you do.
Even after a year I really didn't know Lacy that well. We'd had a long
distance relationship while I was traveling with the team and she was
still in college. I'd cheated on her because it just didn't feel like we
were really together, even though I'd wanted to just be with her.
Now I've been put on a short leash. And if this is what it takes for me
to finally change my man-whoring ways then so be it. I'll just have to
figure out a way to convince Natalie to date me.

I'm actually looking forward to the challenge. It feels like a new
game, bringing out my competitive nature that's gotten me to where I
am in the league today. It's.exciting, to have to pursue a woman just to
get her to have dinner with me. The first time in, God, maybe ever.
And there's a lot at stake to get her to agree. Not just for one date but
for the long term. I'm certain I don't want to have a pretend
relationship with anyone else.
Natalie's definitely not slutty, and I get the feeling she could care less
about how rich I am, otherwise she would've tried to fuck me instead
of run away from me. The anti-gold digger is hard to come by.
They're like Haley's Comet. I might not find a woman like her again
for another seventy-five years.
Before I can make it out of the locker room to the weight room my
phone beeps with a new text message. I grab it from my locker to see
if it's Natalie, then laugh out loud. She's responded to my text with,
"Do you by chance have Marshall's phone number?"
I text back, "/ do, but there's no way in hell I'm giving it to you. You're
too good for him."
I put my phone away and head to do some lifting, hoping that Natalie
will get my gift and I'll have a "Yes" waiting for me when I get back.

Chapter Four
Natalie
I struggle with hauling the big ass box into my small office, and have
just sat it down in the floor when Tracy appears in the doorway. "Hey,
you finally made it back! Did that guy reach you about the paperwork
you left?" she asks, chomping her gum while twirling a strand of her
long, red hair around her finger.
"What guy?" I ask, still panting from the effort.
"The guy from the Wildcats' stadium. I gave him your cell number, so
he could try and reach you before you got back to the office."
"Ah-ha! So that's how Zack got my cell number. The lying bastard," I
mutter.
When I pulled up at the office and saw his text message, I'd been
stunned. It had only been maybe a five minute drive and the man had
already tracked down my cell phone number and messaged me.
"Zack? As in Zack Bradford, the Wildcats' quarterback?" she asks, her
face looking paler than normal.
I nod. "That Zack."
"Oh my God!" she squeals. "I just talked to Zack

Bradford on the phone!"
Her shouting causes an impromptu meeting in my office. Our two
other coworkers, Amanda and Rachel, come crowding into the small
space to see what all the fuss is about.
"Why would Zack freaking Bradford be calling here?" my best friend
and boss Rachel asks skeptically, crossing her arms over her chest and
cocking one of her voluptuous hips. The two of us are as opposite as
friends can get, almost comically so. She's tall and curvy with really
long, dark brown hair that compliments her amber eyes. She and I
won first place for best team costume last Halloween when we went
as Rocky and Bullwinkle.
"He wanted Natalie's phone number!" Tracy exclaims, practically
jumping up and down.
"What?!" the other two women ask, looking at me expectantly.
"He sort of asked me to dinner, but I turned him down," I explain with
a shrug.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!?" Amanda exclaims. For a second
I almost expect her green eyes to pop out of her head. She's Rachel's
younger sister, and other than their eye color, the two could pass as
twins.
"Are you nuts?" Rachel asks.
"I'll go if you don't want to," Tracy says with a smile.
"You guys didn't see him. The arrogant bastard was

almost two hours late because he was working out, and he was such
an asshole when he strolled in, like he didn't have a care in the world.
The first thing he said to me when he walked in was something like,
'You got some shit for me to sign?'" I tell them with a horrible
impersonation of his deep, sexy voice.
"He looks so good he can get by with being late, and with being an
asshole. Hell, he could probably get away with murder if he flashes a
few smiles," Tracy argues.
He does have one powerful smile, I think to myself, remembering it
very clearly. But he shouldn't get away with being a dick just because
he's pretty.
"Whatever," I reply. "The man is such a player he probably can't help
himself whenever he's around a single woman."
The bell on the front door suddenly jingles indicating we have a new
guest, so our gossip party is broken up. At least it was, until Tracy
screams bloody murder.
The girls and I all rush to the front lobby to see what's wrong,
thinking we're being robbed. I wasn't expecting to see Tracy holding a
basket with a Wildcats' balloon, filled with all sorts of team
merchandise.
"Oh. My. God!" she squeals. "Natalie, Zack Bradford sent this to
you!"
My mouth falls open as I look over the gift. I reach with a shaking
hand and pull out the black jersey. Zack's highly collectable signature
is written in the white number fourteen

on the front.
Tracy excitedly reads the small index card standing up in the front of
the basket. "'Sorry I was late. Please have dinner with me, so I can
make it up to you.' He's asking you out again!"
"Wow, this is so sweet," Rachel says, dabbing her eyes.
"Oh please. I'm sure he had someone else put it together and bring it
over. It's not that big of a deal," I say, trying to downplay the sweet
gesture. He probably does the same thing for every woman he dates.
"I'm going to put the jersey with the other signed items for the
auction."
"What?" "No!"
"You can't!" the women yell at me.
"This is for you, Nat. You can't auction it away," Rachel argues.
"It's for a good cause," I counter.
All three women shake their heads in disbelief. I do plan to keep the
other things, like the women's gray team tee and the tumbler. I can
already see the big, plush, black and blue wildcat joining me in my
empty bed from now on, too.
"So are you going to call him?" Tracy asks.
"I'll text him a thank you for the basket."
"And agree to go out with him?" Rachel waggles her

brown eyebrows with a smile.
"No. I have zero interest in being his flavor of the week."
Three gaping mouths look at me like I'm insane. Maybe I am, but
there's only one thing a man like Zack Bradford wants, and that's to
get into my panties. Which is surprising as hell, but is never, ever
going to happen, despite how fine a male specimen he is. Or how
many naughty fantasies I've had starring him. I refuse to let normal
men see me naked and breast-less, much less a superstar athlete as hot
as him. Knowing his reputation from the gossip magazines, he's
probably slept with every beautiful model and actress in Hollywood.
"Natalie, you shouldn't be self-conscious," Rachel says, unfortunately
guessing correctly at why I have such apprehension.
"Right," I scoff as I carry the basket back to my office.
My coworkers don't know what it's like not to have boobs fill out a
shirt. It's impossible to feel sexy when I'm naked nowadays. Not that I
had a whole lot going on up there before. I know losing them was a
small price to pay for my life, but that doesn't mean I'm comfortable
with the lack of my womanhood. Yes, I willingly made the decision
not to undergo reconstructive surgery, and sometimes I wonder if I'd
made the right decision.
At the time, there were several medical related reasons why I'd
declined the procedure, mostly because I didn't want to go through
another surgery, risking infection or

complications down the road with implants. There was always the
chance the cancer could come back and my breasts would have to be
removed again. But the main reason I had refused reconstruction? I
was superstitious. Stupid, I know. Even so, I've convinced myself that
getting cancer was a punishment of sorts. I'd been a silly, vain,
superficial girl, obsessed with my looks. The cost of which was
suffering through a horrible ordeal that could've taken my life, and
still might. By enduring my scars and sacrificing my small B-size
breasts, I hope I'm pleasing the cancer gods and they'll continue to
stay away from me. I know it's ridiculous, but I'm willing to do
whatever it takes to never deal with that hell again.
I haven't been with a man since my decision to undergo a double
mastectomy, even though the tumor and cancer were only in my right
breast. I can imagine the horror and disgust on a date's face when I
flash my scarred, flat chest in the bedroom. So not going to happen.
That's why I've also made the decision not to date. I abstain from sex
and relationships, putting all my time and effort into my work at the
breast cancer foundation, hopefully helping save other women's lives.
I need all the good karma I can get, especially until I make it to my
five year cancerversary.
I sit the big gift basket on top of my desk and lower myself down into
my computer chair, still not quite able to believe all that's happened
today. Grabbing my phone from my purse, I figure the least I can do
is be nice to the man

whore. So I type out a text message to Zack: Thank you for having
someone put together the gift basket and bring it over. It was nice of
you to take a minute to do that in your busy day. I've added the signed
jersey to the auction items, and I'm sure it will be very popular.
Is it snippy? Yes, but he's a tough guy and I'm sure he can take it. I
don't know why he's showing such an interest in me, but I'm definitely
not going to lead him on.
Over the next few hours, I try to tell myself I'm not waiting for a
response from Zack, but that's a lie. I'm distracted as I begin
photographing and cataloging the signed merchandise for the online
auction, and I keep looking over at the screen of my phone.
Nothing.
Maybe I've finally succeeded in pissing the hotshot off for good. It's
for the best, since I know nothing will ever happen with him. I still
can't help but feel deflated by the disappointment that flows through
me.
Zack
I rush into the locker room and beeline for my phone to see if
Natalie's responded to my gift. I even cut my weight training workout
short because I was so anxious to see if she responded.

Damn, after Lacy dumped me I really have become a pussy.
I pull out my phone from my locker and then want to throw the
fucking thing.
Sure, she says thanks, but it's clearly sarcastic. Basically saying
someone else, i.e. Diane, is responsible for the gesture. And on top of
that, she's giving away the signed jersey I'd meant for her to have and
maybe even wear to the game she was going to attend. Not to mention
the one this weekend, if I could get her on board. Of course it'll raise
money for a good cause, but fuck, I'd give her a hundred more if she
wants them for the auction. Whatever it takes to get her to go out with
me. Why does this woman have to be so fucking difficult?
Am I ready to give up and call it quits? Hell no. I may have
considered it for a second, but I've never been a quitter. Her flippant
attitude just makes me want to win her over even more. The victory
will be that much sweeter when she finally caves. Caves as in letting
me strip her naked and fuck her until we both collapse from
exhaustion. Oh yeah, and then agree to date me for, what was it Jerry
said, weeks? But to accomplish those two things I need intel. I go
through my call log and dial up the foundation again.
"Thanks for calling the Carolina Breast Cancer Foundation," the same
woman's voice answers.
"Hi, I'm trying to get your girl Natalie to go out with me. Could you
help me out? Tell me what she likes, and how I

can win her over?"
"Oh my God!" she says, and then lowers her voice to a whisper. "Is
this Zack?"
"Yeah. Why does she keep turning me down? Does she have a
boyfriend?" I ask, suddenly concerned. Natalie said she didn't have a
husband, but I'd failed to ask about a boyfriend. Shit.
"Nope, no boyfriend. We all told her she's crazy to turn you down."
That means the rest of the office women are on my side. Good to
know. Why does Natalie have to be so damn stubborn?
"Is she a football fan?"
"Oh yeah. The woman is a bigger fan than most men I know, that's
why she wanted to be in charge of the auction this year. I have no idea
what she's talking about when she goes on and on about turnovers and
interceptions or whatever else."
Good. Getting her to this Sunday's game should be child's play.
"Is she a fan of mine?" I ask.
"Oh yeah. She has your jersey in black and one in pink. I've also
heard her talking about watching you play in college. She graduated
from Carolina, too."
"Really?" She's the same age as me so we were probably both at
Carolina during the same years. Small world.

"Yeah. I think she has your number on a college jersey,
too."
I can't help my cocky smile. "I'll be damned." So she does know my
jersey number. Of course if she knows a nobody like Marshall's
number, she knows mine. And she's been a fan of mine since college,
or at least she had been until I showed up late and pissed her off. "So,
what will it take for me to get her to go out with me?"
"Ooh. That's a tough one. Let me get Rachel on the line and see if she
has any ideas. Hold on." I listen to the elevator music until another
woman picks up on the line.
"Ah, is this really Zack Bradford?" the feminine voice asks quietly.
"Yes. Rachel?"
"Oh wow! Do you always go to this much trouble to date women?"
"No. Never actually," I laugh.
"Well, we tried to talk some sense into Natalie, but she won't budge."
"What's the problem?"
"She says she doesn't want to be quote, 'the flavor of the week,'
unquote."
"Oh." She'd actually be the second flavor of the week, and it's been a
slow week for me. Damn, I'm disgusting.
"f that's all she'll be then I can't help you. Even if you are the Sexiest
Man Alive," she says, making me chuckle

again.
"Natalie seems like she'd be a flavor I've never come even close to
having before, and would never have again. Rachel, I promise you I
want to date her. More than one
night."
"All right, I approve, but you're going to have your work cut out for
you. She has...insecurities that might be a challenge for even a regular
man." I'm an irregular man? Is that a good or a bad thing?
"What do you mean insecurities? She's beautiful." And I should know
since I'm an expert on beautiful women. Last year I fucked all ten of
Maxim's hottest women in the world. Natalie is hands down more
naturally beautiful than all of them.
"Aww, you're so sweet. She is, although she doesn't listen to us. In a
way I understand where she's coming from, but she's stubborn.
Anyway, if you want to get her attention then I suggest you put in a
little personal effort. She doesn't have plans for lunch tomorrow. She
likes Mexican food and Stargazer lilies."
"What the fuck kind of lilies?" I ask.
She laughs. "Stargazer. They're bright pink ones with what looks like
red dots on them."
"Oh, okay. Thanks for the info, and I guess I'll see you around noon
tomorrow."
"Awesome. We're all big fans here. Especially Natalie."
"Apparently not so much anymore. I was really late to

the signing today."
"Oh, well then that explains it. Natalie takes her job here at the breast
cancer foundation very seriously, especially the fundraisers. The
money we raise pays for mammograms for women who can't afford
them. Those scans helps save lives by catching the cancer as early as
possible."
"Someone Natalie know have breast cancer?" I ask curiously.
"You could say that, but that's not my story to tell."
"I'll have to find a way to make it up to her with the auction. I know
it's a great cause, and I swear I had no intention of blowing the
signing off today."
"Ooh. Could I suggest you and your teammates do a calendar?"
"A calendar?" I ask.
"Yeah, you know, you guys mostly naked, January through
December."
"Huh. I'll check with the guys and if I can get eleven more to agree
then we'll do a calendar."
"Woohoo! Thanks, Zack." "And thank you, Rachel."

Chapter Five
Natalie
Thank goodness! I'm finally finished uploading all the pics and
descriptions for the auction. It's taken half the day, but it's done.
Tomorrow, October first, is the start of breast cancer awareness
month. The online auction on our website will continue accepting bids
until Halloween, with the highest bidder for each item winning at the
end of the month.
I lean back in my computer chair, stretching my arms over my head to
work the kinks out of my back and neck from sitting still for so long.
At the sound of rapping knuckles on my open office door, the chair
almost tips over backwards with me in it.
"Hi, Natalie," the sexiest man in the world says as he casually leans a
shoulder against my door frame. That wasn't just my personal
assessment of his attractiveness. That was the official title he's been
given by several magazines. And is he holding a bouquet of freaking
flowers? Maybe I've fallen asleep at work and am dreaming.
"WhaL.what are you doing here?" I ask.

"I came to take you out to lunch." "W-what?"
"You know, lunch. The meal between breakfast and dinner?"
"But why?"
"I didn't know I needed a reason, but I guess it's because you're a
beautiful woman, and I want to spend more time with you."
"I'm not going to sleep with you," I blurt the words I'm thinking out
before I can stop them.
The gorgeous man's dark chocolate eyes twinkle when he raises a
blonde eyebrow and a cocky grin spreads across his perfect face.
"Baby, if I got you into my bed, there wouldn't be any sleeping. At
least not until you pass out from exertion."
Heat starts at my scalp and travels down my body, pooling between
my legs. I have a feeling that isn't an idle threat.
Somehow, underneath the lust, I'm able to regain my indignation at
his arrogance when the reality that I'm never going to find out if he's
telling the truth douses the flames.
"Let me amend my statement, I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Okay," he says, unaffected. He strolls over and takes a seat in the
chair across from my desk, spreading his long

legs out in front of him and crossing one over his knee. I take in his
tight black t-shirt and what has to be designer, faded blue jeans. There
he jusL.sits! In my small office, holding pink lilies and looking
mouthwatering good. "We can order lunch in. Mexican okay?"
Damn it. Why do I have to have a weakness for Mexican food? I can
get it for dinner, I promise my growling stomach. "No, thanks."
"You don't like Mexican food?" he asks with a crooked smile.
"No. I mean yes. I mean, you're not staying for lunch!"
"That's too bad. I had a fundraising idea I wanted to run past you," he
says as he stands up to leave. "Oh, and these are for you." He places
the beautiful lilies on my desk before he starts for the door.
Wait, did he just say that he has a fundraising idea?
"What idea?" I ask, halting his steps.
"How about I tell you over lunch?" he asks from the doorway.
"Do you really have an idea?"
"Yes," he turns around and says indignantly with his hands spread on
his narrow hips. "And I think it's a pretty damn good one."
"Fine," I exhale in agreement.
"Great, so what can I order for you?" he asks as pulls out his phone.

"Um, a taco salad?"
"Got it. Let me check with the other ladies and I'll be right back," he
says, then I watch his too charming ass head out to woo my
coworkers. Not that they needed wooing. Giggles and flirty comments
intrude into my office.
While he's gone I quickly grab my compact mirror from my purse
hiding underneath my desk and check my hair, makeup and teeth,
then snap it shut again. Damn my vanity! I swear it's going to be the
death of me.
The beautiful flowers abandoned on my desk call to me, and I have to
lean over and smell their wonderful scent. Then it hits me, the flowers
are Stargazer lilies, my favorite, combined with Mexican food, which
is my go-to comfort food. Someone in this office spilled the refried
beans, aiding and abetting Zack in his attempt to charm my pants off.
Once again, he has someone else doing his work for him. Now that I
know the truth, his sweet gestures aren't as impressive as I'd originally
thought.
"All right, the food will be here in a few minutes," Zack says when he
strolls back in, looking like he rules the world. Which he basically
does. His royal lands consist of a football field. The thousands of fans
are his loyal, worshiping servants.
After he sits down across from my desk I look at him, waiting for him
to share this idea of his. Finally he takes the
hint.

Grabbing a pen from the organizer on my desk and twirling it in his
massive fingers he starts talking. "So, I've talked to some of the guys,
and there's enough of us to fill a calendar."
"A calendar?" I ask.
"Yeah, you know, half-naked men from January through December,"
he says with a cocky smile.
Oh Lord. A half-naked Zack Bradford? I can barely form words with
him sitting fully clothed in front of me.
"If you can find a photographer, then we can get the Baring Chests for
Breast Cancer calendar, or whatever you want to call it, done in a few
weeks. The final product would be ready for Christmas. All proceeds
come to you here to do whatever you need to do with the money. I'm
betting it would be an extremely low cost, high profit item."
"Wow." That's the only word I can get out of my mouth for a minute.
"You guys would be willing do that?"
He smiles the mega-watt smile that had been known to make weaker
women faint. Thank goodness I'm sitting down. "Of course. It's for a
great cause."
"Wow." I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but my mind is
frazzled while I think over his idea. Hot, shirtless NFL players. What
woman wouldn't buy such a thing? And he's right, the cost of
production would be extremely low. "That's actually a really great
idea."
Zack looks quickly away from me and squirms a little in his seat. "I
should probably clarify that the idea wasn't mine,

but I did run with it and have eleven other guys on the team ready to
offer their.. .services."
"That was really nice of you. I appreciate your help. And thanks for
lunch, oh and the flowers."
"You're welcome. Although, I did have help with those ideas, too." At
least he admitted it honestly.
"Did you buy the flowers or did someone else?" I ask, wondering how
much he'd personally done.
"I called four different florists before I found Stargazer lilies. Then I
drove across town, walked in on my own two feet, and picked them
up before coming here."
"I'm impressed," I say, unable to help my smile.
"Finally," he says with a sigh, and visibly relaxes in his chair. "I
wasn't sure if I could ever do anything right by you, woman."
I cringe at his words that make me sound like a complete bitch. But I
guess that's the only way I've treated him. I've been rude to Zack
Bradford when all he's trying to do is ask me out. Or more likely get
in my pants.
I can't help but feel a little giddy that he's showed an interest in me,
even if he does have less than honorable intentions, and doesn't
remember me from college. It's nice to feel wanted by a gorgeous man
like him. But regardless, I'm not going to become a notch on his mile
long belt.
"Honestly, Zack, I really appreciate that you've gone to all this trouble
for me, but I don't date, and I definitely don't

sleep with men. Neither of those things are going to change just
because you're...well, you," I tell him, gesturing at his obvious
hotness.
"Well, that's too bad," he says with a sigh. "But if you want the
calendar that could help raise a ton of money for a cause that's
important to you, then you're going to have to take one for the team."
"W-what? What do you mean?" I ask.
He leans forward, his strong, muscular forearms resting on the edge of
my desk. "I mean, the other players and I will do the calendar, but
only if you agree to go out with me."
"You can't be serious."
"Oh, I am very serious."
"Why?" I ask.
"Why am I serious?"
"No, why me?" I ask, helpless to stop the heat from spreading over
my cheeks.
"You want the list?" he asks.
"There's a list?"
"Yep," he nods, his intense chocolate eyes never leaving mine.
"You're beautiful, smart, sweet, sassy, and sexy as hell. Is that
enough?"
I want to crawl under my desk after hearing his flattering words. "But
you don't know me, and even if all that were true, you...you date
women who are a helluva lot more...

well, everything than me."
"I have dated a lot of beautiful women." He nods in agreement. "And
those women, with the exception of one, were all shallow, selfish,
spoiled, clingy, and my personal favorite, gold-diggers."
"Oh." He said all but one. Does that mean he cared about her? I
remember seeing something in the tabloids a few months ago about
his breakup with a girlfriend.
"Even though we just met yesterday, I'm willing to bet that you're
none of the above. You're also the only woman that's ever turned me
down."
"So you just like a challenge?" I ask, deflating as I think of the old
saying that you always want what you can't have.
"It's nice to have a challenge," he says with a shrug of his wide
shoulders, his eyes holding mine. "But, Natalie, when I decide I want
to play, I go all in and play to win. And I can promise you this - I
want to win you over for more than just one night."
I'm pretty sure I melted a little in my seat. "But I'm just plain.
Average... "
"Natalie, you're not as smart as I thought you were if you think you're
plain or average. Come on. Just agree to go on ten measly dates with
me before the photoshoot for the calendar."
"Ten! You want me to go on ten dates with you?" My jaw drops and I
shake my head. "That's too many, and if we're really going to do this,
we need to get the photos

done ASAP so that the calendars will be ready by the end of the year."
"All right, eight."
"Four," I counter, then slap a hand over my mouth. Am I actually
agreeing to go out with Zack Bradford? Yes, yes I am. It's for a good
cause. Although, I still don't really understand his persistence.
"Deal," he says with a wide smile, offering me his large palm to shake
on it. I take it, and when his hand swallows up my small one,
awareness and desire pulses down my arm, tightening my belly as I
imagine his warm hands in other places on my body. Stop it you
stupid hormones!
"This counts as one of the dates," I say when my brain decides to
work again. Zack's hand goes still and the surprised look on his face
tells me he hadn't expected that.
"No, it doesn't," he says, as he pulls his palm from mine.
"Yes, it does. We're having a meal together and you brought me
flowers. That's a date if I've ever seen one."
"Okay, this is a date if and only if it includes a kiss."
My jaw drops again and my face becomes scorching hot.
"You.we.that wasn't."
"Damn, woman, you're seriously going to give me a complex! How
bad could one little kiss on each date be?" the smug bastard asks as he
leans back in his chair, taking up all the space in the room.

I've been thinking about that "one little kiss" from him for years. Four.
Freaking. Years. Not that he remembers that one. It had been an
amazing kiss, too. Surely I can handle one more. Or four more, one
for each date.
"Fine. But that's it! No more conditions."
He looks way too pleased with himself as that familiar wide smile
spreads across his face. "No more conditions. Four dates, at least one
kiss per date, and you get a calendar."
"Don't you have practice you should be at, instead of wasting time
here? You guys are on a losing streak, right?" I ask even though my
mind is stuck on "at least one kiss." Does that mean there might be
more than one kiss per
date?
"I'm free until practice starts at two," he says. "And I have a feeling
our season is about to turn around."
"So you think you guys are ready to take on the Giants this Sunday?"
I ask.
"Hell yes we're ready," he says confidently. "I could even get you
tickets if you want to come see me play."
"Really?" I ask unable to help my huge grin of delight.
"Of course."
"Any strings attached?"
With a deep chuckle he runs a hand through his perfect All-American
blonde hair, showing off the thick muscles in his bicep. I have to stifle
the groan that tries to escape from

my lips. "Hmm. Well, there weren't any strings, but now that you
brought it up, I may have to think of one."
"What will it take?" I grumble. I'd consider giving up my first born for
decent seats to a home game. Those damn things are several hundred
bucks a pop even in the nosebleed section.
"I'll get you four tickets, lower level, row A, if you'll agree to wear
my jersey."
"That's all I have to do?" I ask skeptically. "Wear your jersey?"
For front row freaking seats!
"Yep. One of my jerseys from your closet, which I get to sign at the
game, and you better not even think of including it in the auction."
"How'd y o u . I d o n ' t . "
He raises an eyebrow and smirks.
I sigh in resignation and cover my embarrassed face with both hands.
"Which hussy told you so I can have words with her about not spilling
all of my secrets to big, arrogant men?" I ask and he gives a deep
raspy laughs.
"Sorry, but I can't reveal my sources. She says you're a Carolina
alumni, too?"
I nod, although I didn't actually graduate since I left during my
sophomore year and never went back.
"Did you watch any of my college games in the stadium?"

I nod again, then swallow the lump in my throat, uncovering my face.
"I attended almost all of the home games my first two years." The
away ones, too, but I didn't think I needed to share that much.
"Too bad we didn't meet on campus," he says softly, and he sounds
almost genuine.
"Food's here!" Tracy yells to us from the front.
"Hungry?" he asks as he stands up. Somehow he makes that one
seemingly innocent word sound naughty.
"Starved," I respond as I get up and walk around my desk. Suddenly
he's there in front of me, causing me to run smack dab into his big,
hard, unmoving body.
Before I can apologize, one of Zack's big hands gently cradles the side
of my face. His calloused thumb glides under my chin to tilt my head
up. When he brushes my lips with his own full ones I freeze in shock.
That doesn't deter him.
Grasping my hip, he pulls me flush against his body, smelling all
wonderful and edible. When my lips open on a gasp of surprise, the
man takes that as an invitation to slide his tongue into my mouth, not
that I'd ever protest.
My own body finally thaws and begins responding to his touch.
Tentatively, my tongue dips into his mouth, mimicking his
exploration. He tastes sweet and delicious like sugar, and is probably
just as addictive. Every time our tongues tease, his fingers tighten on
my hip, causing

arousal to throb deep and demanding in my core, growing and
warming until it's a steady ache.
My arms don't really want to work, so I just reach for the closest part
of him I can get to - his trim waist. God, his body is rock hard and
warm, so damn incredible underneath my greedy palms that long to
touch his skin. I grab fistfuls of the sides of his shirt, begging him not
to stop. Butterflies take flight in my stomach. Or maybe it's actually
bumblebees, creating a heavy, vibrating sensation through my lower
body.
When Zack finally pulls away we're both breathing heavy, unable to
do anything but stare at each other while several seconds pass, his
confused brown eyes searching mine.
"I thought you'd want t o .g o ahead and get that out of the way." His
voice sounds deeper and even sexier, if that's possible
After I nod he takes a step back, pulling his hands away from my face
and hip. What is most concerning is the fact that he isn't giving me a
cocky smile or cracking jokes. Zack Bradford actually looks serious
for the first time in two days.
His arm motions for me to lead the way out of my office. I really hope
my legs can withstand my weight after that ridiculously amazing kiss.
When I feel the pressure of Zack's hand on the small of my back, his
heat burning my skin through my dress shirt, I figure that if I start to
fall he'll

catch me before I hit the ground.
While all five of us are all sitting down to eat at the small round table
in the break room, the silence is almost uncomfortable. My coworkers
keep giving me questioning looks and blatantly staring at Zack. He's
busy eating some sort of lunch combination of yummy Mexican
cuisine with grilled chicken and vegetables, and stays relatively quiet.
Once or twice he pulls his phone out and types a few things on it,
probably trying to give himself something to do while we all four
gawk awkwardly at him.
I still can't believe he's here or that he kissed me! My lips continue to
tingle, and now that I've been close enough to get a whiff of his
amazing smell, reminding me of the salty ocean and warm sun, I want
more. I catch myself leaning toward him, desperate to inhale his
deliciousness.
Oh boy, I'm a goner. Three more dates. I can do this without going
head over heels for him. Sure.
When we're finishing up lunch there's a jingle from the front door
signaling a guest. Tracy leaves to greet them, and then comes back,
holding up four tickets to Sunday's home game.
"Wow, you work fast," I tell Zack, unable to hide my smile.
"That's not an attribute I strive for in all areas of my life," he laughs.
"It doesn't matter how long it takes just as long as you get the job
done," I tell him, and something flashes across

his gorgeous face. I'd almost say it was a glimpse of insecurity, but
that was ridiculous. Either way, I want to take the flirty words back.
Not going there, regardless of how good of a kisser he is or how good
he smells or how hot he is. He won't remember my name in a few
weeks. Or days, more likely.
"Well, ladies, it's been a great lunch, but I better get over to the
practice field. See you all on Sunday?" he asks, since I've already
invited my coworkers to come with me. The girls all swoon in their
seats and thank him for lunch and the tickets.
"Natalie, I'll call or text you to set up our next date,
okay?"
Before I can finish nodding my agreement his head dips down and he
brushes a quick kiss over my lips. He's gone before I can blink my
eyes open in comprehension. Instead of a big sexy man I come face to
face with three curious coworkers.
"Did he just..."
"Oh. My. God."
"Wow, Natalie," Rachel says as she fans herself with her hand. "Zack
Bradford just kissed you."
"He's a really good kisser," I tell them, after I hear the front door close
and know he's out of earshot.
"Was that the first one?" Tracy asks.
"Nope. That was the third."

"Third!?" they exclaim.
Feeling like a school girl, I pull out my phone and find the YouTube
video from our sophomore year of college. I hit play and hold it out
for the three of them to watch.
"Holy smokes, that's a hot kiss," Rachel observes.
"Yeah it was, well at least for me. He doesn't remember
it."
"How can he not remember that?" Amanda asks.
I shrug. "Because he's Zack Bradford and he's probably kissed
hundreds, if not thousands, of women."
"But that was hot!" Tracy says.
" It was a heat of the moment thi ng. He'd just scored the touchdown
that sealed the win and I just happened to be... there. So guess what." I
attempt to change the subject to safer ground. "In exchange for me
going out with him, the Wildcats' players are going to do a calendar!"
"No way!"
"Get out!"
"Oh man, I might faint from just imagining all that hotness."
"A friend of mine from college, Janet Mason, is a really great
photographer in town. f she'll agree to do the photos for free in
exchange for the publicity, then our only expense will be for the
printing costs. Those expenses will be minimal, and maybe we can
find a printer to even do them for free. We could sell hundreds of the
calendars online and

at events for twenty bucks a pop, and boom, we've made this year and
next year's goal, ladies."
"There's also the sweet little bonus of having a full year worth of hot
men on our walls," Rachel adds.
"Just a year? Who are you kidding? It'll be 2014 for many long years
in my house," Amanda says, making us all laugh.

Chapter Six
Zack
It's Wednesday night and I'm heading to Natalie's apartment to pick
her up for our second date, which sucks because really it should be
our first one. The woman drives a hard bargain.
I haven't stopped thinking about her since lunch the day before,
especially that kiss. A kiss that almost knocked me on my ass harder
than a three hundred pound defensive lineman.
Wait a second...there's something familiar about Natalie and our
kiss...getting knocked down. No! She can't be the beautiful, tiny
cheerleader I'd flattened at the end of the Virginia Tech game. Both
women are blonde with sparkling green eyes, and she said she'd gone
to Carolina, too.
As soon as my car comes to a stop outside of the apartment building
she had texted me the address to, I pull out my phone and do a n
Internet search. It has to be available somewhere in cyberspace since
that damn video went viral right after it happened. We even had the
VT crowd cheering for us, the visiting team's quarterback

making out with a cheerleader after I'd just whooped their team's ass.
I finally find what I think might be the one. In slow motion I watch
the son of a bitch linebacker plow into my back after the play had
already been ruled a touchdown, and after I was clearly out of bounds.
One of our petite cheerleaders tried to back up out of the way but
wasn't quick enough before I smacked right into the front of her,
sending her to the ground. I'd tried to brace her fall with my arms
around her, but my full weight landed on top of her for an instant,
crushing her into the grass. I'd looked down into a pair of surprised,
gorgeous, green eyes and asked her if she was all right. She'd nodded
and exhaled a barely audible, "Yes." Then she'd smiled, stopping my
heart before she said, "Awesome play on the read option, Zack,"
stroking my ego before I helped her to her feet.
At the time I wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline, the excitement, my
arrogance that I'd just managed to score the winning touchdown, or
our team coming from behind to win the game in the last fifteen
seconds. But whatever it was, something made me kiss her. I yanked
my helmet off and went for it, then I couldn't stop kissing her. She'd
been an eager participant, just like the kiss with Natalie yesterday.
Based on the video I found, we'd apparently stood there lip-locked for
several minutes. I'd wanted nothing more than to ask her out, but my
girlfriend at the time, Samantha, had gone ballistic that night when
she saw the video, threatening to break up with me. Instead of
blowing

her off to pursue the sexy little cheerleader, I'd tried to do damage
control with Sam because of my ego. How stupid was that? I never
saw her on the sidelines again after that game, and I'd definitely
looked for her.
Watching the replay, it wasn't a close up, but it was enough for me to
be almost certain that the cheerleader is definitely a slightly younger
Natalie. Why hadn't she mentioned that she was the girl I'd made out
with in front of everyone? Maybe she's forgotten about it. I hadn't. I
just didn't realize that Natalie and the cheerleader were one in the
same.
Pulling myself out of Memory Lane, I climb out of my car and head
up the steps for Natalie's apartment to knock on her door. While I wait
I try to slow my breathing and racing heart. Damn, I'd only been up
one flight of stairs and I'm in the best shape of my life. Was it nerves
making me feel this way? All jittery and...anxious? s this what it felt
like to be nervous? I'd never felt such a thing before, and didn't have
any longer to ponder the sensation. The apartment door opens wide
and my heart stops.
"Wow, Natalie. You look.. .wow." Apparently nerves also make my
brain stop functioning. There she stands with bouncy blonde curls
framing her beautiful face, looking flawless in a red, curve-hugging
dress that ends above her knees. Her lean legs are bare all the way
down until they reach red, fuck-me heels.
"Thanks," she says with a blush covering her cheeks. "Since I don't
date I figured what the hell, I'd go all out. Is this

dress okay for what you have planned tonight?"
"Yes, even though you'd look beautiful in anything, especially
Carolina blue," I say and watch her green eyes blink wide in surprise.
"Do you still have your old cheerleading uniform?"
Her pink lips part on a gasp. "How'd you..."
"You lied. You said we've never met before," I tell her, remembering
our first conversation the other day at the stadium.
She smiles and looks down at her shoes shyly, pushing a curl behind
one ear. "We hadn't technically met before the other day."
"No, not technically, but we'd made out in front of thousands of
people. Almost a million have watched the video on the Internet. I
never forgot that kiss, I just didn't realize you were the same gorgeous
girl."
"Yeah, I've changed quite a bit over the last four years," she says
almost sadly.
"I don't think so. Now I can't figure out how I was so blind that I
didn't see it before."
"Let me just grab my purse and I'll be ready," she says quickly and
then she vanishes.
I take a step inside her apartment even though she didn't invited me
in. It's a nice place, and the woman honestly does love blue. There's
all sorts of variations of the color, from a dark navy couch to light
blue walls. It's a

consistent theme throughout the living room and kitchen based on
what I can see. There's also a Carolina lamp on an end table, a
Wildcats' clock on the wall with several other little pieces of team
merchandise sitting around, showing she really is a big football fan.
Coming back down the hall, Natalie looks up and sees me standing in
the foyer.
"I like your apartment," I tell her and she swats playfully at my chest.
"I'm sure it's Polly Pocket size compared to where you live," she
jokes.
"It is, but my big ole house just makes it feel that much lonelier."
Why did I tell her that? Am I really lonely? The answer is a
resounding yes.
Natalie rolls her eyes. "Right, like you're ever there alone."
"You'd be surprised how much alone time I have. I'm getting too old
for my wild ways, and I'm trying to settle down with just one
woman."
If I am going to be a father I sure as hell can't have my son or
daughter seeing a revolving door of women coming and going
through the house. Lacy wouldn't put up with me always having a
bunch of sluts around.
Thinking about it, other than Natalie, there isn't a single woman I've
dated or fucked lately that I'd even consider eventually introducing to
my child. If that's not a wakeup call then I don't know what the hell is.
I need to call Lacy and

apologize for being such an ass to her when she told me she was
pregnant. It was time for me to man the fuck up.
"Uh-huh," Natalie mutters, unconvinced by my statement as she locks
up her apartment and we head down the stairs to my car. " s it true
what the tabloids said about you recently ending a relationship?" she
asks, catching me so off guard I almost stumble. I knew the media
loved that sort of shit, I was just surprised Natalie remembered seeing
the article about mine and Lacys split from several months ago.
"Yep. My girlfriend of a year broke things off about four months
ago," I decide to tell her honestly as I hold the passenger door of my
Mercedes open for her. She pauses before sitting down.
"She broke up with you, Zack Bradford?" she asks sarcastically.
"Yes, apparently you're not the only woman that can withstand my
charm." After she giggles and climbs in, I walk around to the driver
side, hoping this conversation is over. Nope.
"So, it's none of my business, but why'd you two end
things?"
I sigh before jamming the key in and starting the engine. "Because I'm
an asshole. I cheated on her, honestly, more times than she even
knows. She got fed up and instead of moving in with me after she
graduated from college in May like we'd planned, she broke up with
me."

"And what's changed?" she asks.
"I'm tired of being an arrogant, self-centered, bastard man-whore. I
want...more." And I want to keep my job. Oh, and I might be a father.
I keep those two reasons to myself.
"Do you want her back? Do you miss her?" Natalie asks softly.
"It doesn't really matter what I want. Lacy had already moved on
within two weeks of leaving me. I tracked her down in Greensboro to
see if we could try and work things out. She said we were done.
Actually she said there wasn't a single part of me that she missed.
That same night I saw her, she got caught by a cop fucking a guy in
his truck. She's living with him here in Charlotte now and
seems...happy."
"Must be a great guy, or she must be crazy," Natalie says with a
smile.
"Or she's right. She's better off without me. Apparently I'm sorely
lacking in the bedroom too." Shit, I want to face-palm myself after
letting that slip. That's probably the last thing I should say to a woman
I'm trying to sleep with.
"Maybe you two just weren't compatible," Natalie says simply.
"Why'd you cheat on her?"
I exhale and run my fingers through my hair, tugging on it. I'm so
ashamed of the truth I can't even look at the woman next to me.
"Because I could. Because I treat sex like a meaningless hobby.
Women are a dime a dozen and I never tried to resist."

"Wow, you're making me feel really great about agreeing to go on this
date with you."
"I can promise you, Natalie, I'm not going to see anyone else while
we're dating," I tell her. Hell, I couldn't if I want to keep playing
football. "The last woman I was with was Sunday night, and that was
nothing but a one-night stand." Gold-digging whore. She had to be the
most expensive prostitute ever.
"Did she have any complaints?"
Yeah, she probably wanted more money.
"No, but I had help." Why Jake and I like to fuck the same woman,
I'm not sure. Maybe because it can't be anything but fucking with
another person around. No feelings to get in the way just trying to get
off.
"What does that mean?" she asks.
"Nothing. Let's not go there." I have to find my filter and stop letting
my mouth run away. The woman is like a human truth serum, making
me want to spill my guts. But the more I spill the faster she'll run the
other way.
"So what about you? Why don't you date?" I ask her.
I hear her squirm in the leather seat as I drive us downtown. " L . I
don't date because I don't want to lead men on."
"So you don't date because you have no intention of fucking them?" I
ask, trying to figure this woman out. I've never met anyone like her.

"Yes."
"Why?" I asked in confusion. "You can't be saving yourself for
marriage because you can't get married without dating first."
"No, I'm not saving myself," she laughs. "That's just not something I
want right now. I really don't want to talk about it
either."
"Okay. But I'm glad I bribed you into going out with me," I tell her,
and she's smiling when I sneak a quick glance at her.
"Where are we going?" she asks, changing the subject.
"A charity concert for Levine Children's Hospital. It's the only thing I
was pretty sure you'd approve of," I tell her honestly. It's also a
guaranteed photo op since it's a red carpet, VIP only event.
"Oh," she mutters. "That's very decent of you." "Yeah, well, I'm not
all that decent. I'm also a huge fan of Tri-Polar."
"Tri-Polar is playing a concert in town tonight?" she asks in awe.
"Holy shit!"
"You're a fan, too?" "Heck yes. Who isn't?"
"See what I mean though? I'm a selfish bastard to want to go to this
thing to see them."

"The money is still going to the local children's hospital, so it's okay if
you actually enjoy the event, too," she responds. "Seeing as how I'm a
fundraiser organizer and all, do you mind telling me how much the
tickets were?"
"A hundred each."
"What? Only a hundred dollars and you get to see Tri-Polar? What is
wrong with these organizers? They should charge at least ten times
that much!"
"Um, yeah, they're actually charging a thousand times that much."
"Huh?" she asks, sounding confused.
"The tickets were a hundred grand."
There's a second of silence, and then she exclaims, "What the
fuck?!?" making me laugh at her sudden outburst of profanity. "You
paid one hundred thousand dollars for us to go to this thing tonight?"
Unable to help my smile, I glance over at her in the passenger seat.
Natalie's chest is rising and falling rapidly, and I'm pretty sure she's
about to hyperventilate.
"Each!?!" she squeaks out, holding both hands to her chest.
"You okay? Do I need to take you to the hospital instead?" I chuckle.
"You-you can't...I can't," she stutters.
"Can't what?" I ask.

"You should take someone else. That's too much...to spend. Holy
shit."
"Natalie, calm down. Take a deep breath. It's okay. It's just money."
"Ha!" she exclaims. "Just money? It's enough to buy a house!"
"You're a football fan, so you probably know that I'm the fourth
highest paid quarterback in the league, right? I have a five year, eighty
million dollar contract with the Wildcats. And that doesn't include the
millions I make from sponsors for shoes, boxer-briefs, razors, sports
drinks, and appearances."
"So you're saying that two hundred thousand dollars for you is like
what, two hundred dollars is to me?"
"No, I understand and appreciate that it's a lot of money, but I also
know that I've still got plenty of it left."
"I feel a little sick," she says, and when I glance over again she's
rubbing her hand over her stomach. I think she is actually physically
ill at the idea of me spending that much money.
"I shouldn't have told you, because it doesn't matter. It's for the sick
kids, woman!"
"I'm glad you're helping the sick kids, I really am, and it's amazing of
you, but new rule," she says. "You can't spend more than a hundred
dollars, not thousands, but one hundred dollars total per date on our
remaining dates."

"What the hell kind of dates will they be?" I look over and ask
indignantly when we come up on a stoplight. "Dinner at a fast food
drive-thru and admission to the Rinky Dink?"
"Ha! That would be hilarious...to see you...at the Rinky Dink...on
skates. I think that might actually be...worth a hundred thousand
dollars to see," she throws her head back against the seat and laughs.
For the first time in three days she actually looks happy. There's
something in those sad, jade eyes of hers that always appear cautious
or worried, even when she's smiling. But right this second, she looks
carefree and...astonishingly beautiful.
A honking horn alerts me that the light turned green and I didn't even
notice. I accelerate again and make the final turn into Chemistry, the
club hosting the event.
"Wow, that's...that's a lot of cameras," Natalie mutters softly when we
pull up to the busy entrance.
"We just have to stand still for a couple of pictures and then we can
go inside, okay?"
"I should've dressed up more. I'm not...are you sure you want to be
seen out in public with me?" she asks.
I look over at her to judge her sincerity, to see if she's just fishing for
a compliment. I know right away that the panic on her face is genuine.
She really doesn't know how beautiful she is. How is that possible? f I
have to be seen out in public with the same woman for weeks, I want
it to be Natalie.

"Why wouldn't I want to be seen with you? Do you own a mirror?" I
ask, putting the car in park.
"Even all dressed up I'm still just average compared to all the women
you're usually seen with."
"I thought we went through all that yesterday," I say, blowing out my
breath in frustration. She's also getting too close for comfort in the
whole reason we're going out. She is different, she's not a
gold-digging slut. "All right, from now on whenever you make a
self-deprecating statement I'm going to spank you. Please, keep it up
so I can get my hands on your very fine ass. Understood?"
"Uh-huh," she mutters, looking out the window at the roped off group
of paparazzi like she's going to be sick.
"Natalie," I say, reaching for her hand and intertwining her tiny,
childlike fingers with mine to reassure her. "You look absolutely
gorgeous, so please stop worrying."
"Thank you," she replies softly, lowering her eyes.
"Ready?" I ask after giving her another minute, and she finally nods.
Letting her hand go, I climb out of the car. Before I can give my keys
to the valet and go around to open Natalie's door, she's already
stepping out of course. Her eyes are wide, and she's biting her bottom
lip nervously.
"Just keep thinking about me skating circles around you at the Rinky
Dink. All six feet, five i nches tryi ng to balance on a pair of four tiny
wheels," I whisper against her

ear, while guiding her forward with a hand on the small of her back.
"You know there will be multiple wipeouts and lots of dust biting
because I will most definitely fall on my ass."
"Ha!" She laughs and quickly covers her mouth with her hand, but my
comment worked. Now she's smiling naturally, the real one that lights
up her stunning, green eyes.
"Laugh all you want." I keep teasing her when I grab her hand and
pull her the rest of the way to the red carpet. "But if I go down, I'm
going to be holding your hand so I can take you down with me."
"Zack! Over here!" I hear various voices in the group calling my
name and throwing out random questions. "Who's your date tonight?"
a woman asks, and that's one I answer right away. The sooner the
good press starts securing my contract the better.
"This beautiful woman is Miss Natalie Adair," I respond, tucking her
against my side with an arm around her waist. She's so petite that she
barely reaches my chest, but she fits against me perfectly. Screw the
six feet tall models in their four inch heels. I'll take this cute little
pixie woman over them any day. "Smile," I warn her when the bright
lights begin flashing around us.
After a few seconds, I pull her along behind me and don't stop until
we reach the main floor of the dark club. Strobe lights dance around
the walls and ceiling to the pulse of the upbeat tempo. Unlike most
weekends when I've been here, there's only a few people on the dance
floor

or sitting around the bar. Guess there aren't that many that can afford
an "intimate affair" like this.
The small stage at the front of the room holds microphones,
instruments, and amps, ready for the band to come out and play.
Glancing around, I see a few Hollywood actors and actresses that look
like they are high and it sure as hell isn't on life, several well-known
musicians, a few politicians, and the rest of the group is just other
random filthy rich individuals.
Since there aren't any cameras around I take Natalie to a secluded
alcove with a round ottoman style seat against the wall. Now that the
first part of my plan, getting some good PR with Natalie has been
successful, it's time for the second part - seducing the one and only
woman I can now fuck. I straddle the seat and pull Natalie down so
that she's sitting between my legs. Her back remains rigid, her posture
stiff.
"Relax," I say against her ear. I love knowing that one word from me
is all it takes to make her sexy, little body shiver. Maybe this is going
to be easier than I originally thought. With that sort of reaction, I bet
she'll be begging me to fuck her before the night is over, especially
since she's got a soft spot for the whole charity deal. After that she'll
be wrapped around my little finger and will jump at the chance to go
out with me again.
"Kind of hard to relax knowing how much you paid...and these people
are all—"

"Forget them," I tell her. Grabbing Natalie around her slender waist, I
tug her to me until her back is molded against my chest. I keep my
arm looped around her to ensure she doesn't try and make a run for it.
When a server comes by with a tray of drinks, I pass but hand Natalie
a glass of champagne. A little alcohol should help the woman mellow
out and loosen up.
"Hey, Natalie?" I ask, bending down to her ear, so she could hear me
over the current beat. There's something I don't understand and can't
quite figure out. I wanted to know why it seemed like after our kiss in
college she disappeared. "Why didn't I see you cheerleading after the
Virginia Tech game?"
"Because I dropped out of school a few days later," she responds over
her shoulder.
"Oh." I wasn't expecting that. "But why?" She's too smart and
innocent, so I'm sure it wasn't that she had partied and flunked out.
Maybe she couldn't afford it? s that why she freaked out about the
money thing earlier?
"I moved back home," she says, which doesn't answer my question.
The time for conversation is over, though, before I can ask follow up
questions. The opening band comes out on the stage and starts playing
a few of their unknown songs, warming up the small, mostly quiet
crowd.
Finally, about an hour later, Tri-Polar hits the stage infusing the
building with energy. Their music is a mixture of

rock, rap, and pop, which is probably why they're so popular. Just
about everyone under the age of forty listens to their shit.
The lead singer, Cain Blevins, is a tatted up dude, going shirtless to
show off the colorful artwork that covers both of his arms. His jet
black shaggy hair matches his eyeliner, not that anyone would make
fun of him because he's a badass motherfucker. At the top of his lungs
he begins belting out what sounds like his soul in the lyrics of their
first hit from five years ago, "Broken Down."
Jumping off the small stage during the third song, a slower rock
ballad, Cain works his way through the elite crowd, stopping
periodically to serenade individuals.
I wasn't prepared for my jaw to try and break itself when the singer's
hand reaches out and caresses Natalie's cheek at the same time he
gives her a wink. Especially since the lyrics he's currently singing are
ones about laying his woman down tonight and burying himself deep
inside of her until he sees the sunlight.
Nope, not a fucking fan of that at all.
His little display better just be a part of the show, because the asshole
would have to be blind not to see my arm around her and know she's
with me. Although, I have heard that Cain Blevins is the Zack
Bradford of the music world when it comes to the ladies.

Natalie
I'm starting to think it's possible that I died without realizing it, you
know like suddenly after an auto accident or in my sleep, because it
sure feels like I'm in heaven.
At the present moment I'm cuddled up to an incredibly hot
quarterback while a ridiculously sexy bad boy with the voice of an
angel sings to me. For several frozen seconds I was simultaneously
touched by both Zack Bradford and Cain Blevins.
Maybe this is the cancer gods way of making up for the hell it put me
through. I have to say I'm extremely grateful, it's just all too...surreal.
After spending the last few years basically as a worker bee during the
day and hermit at night, I'm surprised and confused by the attention of
these two incredible men. I'm sure Cain's attention was just part of his
performance, and it's probably just my imagination that while I
continue floating on my very own personal cloud nine, he keeps
glancing my way.
"So, what did you think?" Zack asks after the band finished their
encore and walked off the stage to loud applause.
"It was awesome!" I tell him with a smile, standing up from our seat
to face him. This Tri-Polar live and private

performance is without a doubt one of the most amazing things I've
ever experienced. "Thank you so much for bringing me to something
so cool that also helps raise money for sick kids!"
"You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed it," he says before getting to
his feet. It sounds like he mumbles something about Cain under his
breath, but I don't catch it.
"Bradford!" a deep masculine voice calls out.
Zack looks around and gives a nod in greeting to the big, beautiful,
dark-skinned man heading our way. Oh yeah, that's Marcus Jones, the
Wildcats' running back.
"Jones," Zack says with a smile when the two clasp hands and
exchange masculine shoulder pats. "I didn't know you were coming
tonight."
"Last minute addition," he says. "And fuck if I didn't miss most of the
concert. How was it?"
"It was all right," Zack replies, sounding less than impressed. I guess
he didn't think it had been worth two hundred thousand dollars. Oh
frick.
My body sways just thinking about giving away that much money.
Zack luckily sweeps an arm around me to keep me steady on my feet.
It's possible that those three glasses of champagne are getting to me.
I'm not a drinker because my doctor suggested only consuming
alcohol in moderation, so I'm feeling tipsy just from that small
amount.
"Jones, meet my date, Natalie Adair. Natalie this is Marcus Jones."

"Tinker Bell," the big man says with a stunning smile. He wraps me
in a hug instead of a handshake after using the nickname he'd given
me at the signing event.
"How are you tonight, Mr. Jones?" I ask with my own smile. The man
was a riot when we met at the stadium.
"Damn good. How's the auction going? Anything else I can do to
help?" he asks, making me love him even more.
"It's going great, and if I think of anything I'll let you know.
Unless...are you one of the calendar men?"
"Damn right I am," he says with a wider smile before raising his shirt
sleeve to show me his tattoo. It's a big pink ribbon on his massive
bicep with "Lena Jones is a fighter' written within. I know from
reading up on him that the tattoo is for his mom who is also a
survivor. I'm pretty sure the whole autographed merchandise auction
had even been his idea several years back before I came to work for
the foundation.
"That's great! Thank you so much. I bet your mother is really proud of
you, ranking sixth in the league already this season, and you're only
going to move up."
He nods and smiles wider even though his eyes mist. "She is, and,
Bradford, you better keep this Tinker Bell close, so she doesn't fly
away. The woman knows her shit."
I glance over at Zack who has been quiet. He has a perplexed look on
his face like he's confused. It's a stark contrast to his ever present
cockiness, and pretty damn

adorable.
"Yeah, I know," Zack finally says quickly before asking Marcus a
question about a play from practice. I zone out as the two men start
talking about some plays that need work, and how to try and make
them better. I'm a huge football fan, but I don't understand any of their
strangely coded, top secret plays they are going on and on about. They
even go as far as demonstrate to the other with actual movements. I
know better than to ask since they can't risk anyone finding out their
strategy.
"Where the hell have you been?" a man's silky smooth voice asks
from behind me. I wouldn't have even known he was talking to me if I
hadn't felt his warm breath on my neck and caught the scent of what
smelled like a sour apple Jolly Rancher.
"Excuse me?" I ask in confusion and annoyance at the stranger's tone.
Turning around I come within inches of a half-naked Cain Blevins.
I'm sure my mouth is flapping like a fish out of water. The lead singer
is still only wearing pants with a huge studded silver belt and black
boots. I guess since his arms are covered in amazing artwork, maybe
he doesn't feel as naked as he looks.
Up close, the man whose voice melts women like butter is tall but
sleek with a flat stomach. There's an obvious, and very tempting dark
treasure trail heading below the waistline of his painted on black
leather pants.

I have to blink a few more times to make sure my eyes aren't playing
some crazy trick on me. It is sort of dark in the club, and the strobe
lights make everything look strange and hazy.
"Well?" he asks with a smirk, his hands on both of his slim hips. His
eyes, deep blue puddles of jusL.wow, stare back at me, waiting. His
dark eyelashes and black eyeliner, yes, eyeliner, make the blue orbs
even more beautiful.
"Ah, what?" I ask.
"Where have you been all my life?" he asks, his face breaking into a
wicked smile.
After a second I realize it's a pickup line. Cain Blevins just used a
corny pickup line on me! Holy shit.
That was it, I lost the last grip of my composure. I start giggling and
then can't stop. I even have to grab onto one of his brightly tattooed
biceps to steady myself when I almost fall over. His skin is perfectly
smooth and cool to the touch, and I can't help but follow along the
contours of the black and red dragon's tail with my fingertips.
"Pretty," I say, and sweet baby Jesus, now I'm actually touching Cain
Blevins!
"And you are fucking adorable, sweetheart. Does your daddy know
you're out past your bedtime?" he asks all seductive like as he takes a
step closer, closing the space between us.
"It is past our bedtime," Zack says from beside me, slipping his arm
around my waist and squeezing my hip. I

drop my hand from the singer's arm, unprepared for Zack's show of
possessiveness.
"Zack Bradford," the singer says, glancing up at the giant quarterback.
How the hell did I get here of all the places in the world, between
these two larger than life men?
"Aren't you a little young to be her daddy?" Cain asks with a crooked
smile.
"She can call me anything she wants," Zack responds coolly. His
clenched jaw ticks, indicating he's not amused with Cain's teasing
comment. Zack, of course, is implying it's a name I call him between
the sheets. Maybe he and I both need a reminder that isn't going to
ever happen.
"Daddy just doesn't have the same ring to it as arrogant asshole." I
cringe as soon as the words leave my lips and Cain barks out a laugh.
I want to take the words back, especially knowing Zack paid so much
to bring me along to this event. But then suddenly a terrible thought
slams into my alcohol hazed mind.
Mother. Fucker.
Was Zack doing this, spending all this money to try to get me to sleep
with him? Did he think that in exchange for handing over two
hundred thousand dollars to a charity that I'd feel obligated to fuck
him tonight? I'm not a whore, even if the money goes to a children's
hospital instead of in my pocket. How dare him try and buy me off!

Okay, so now I'm back to meaning my words more than ever before.
The fury in Zack's narrowed brown eyes on mine and the tightness of
his clenched jaw are almost lethal as his hand on me falls away.
"What a momentous occasion! Hearing a woman call Zack Bradford
an asshole to his face. The fun-size lady has done the unthinkable!"
Cain says while he holds his bare stomach and continues to laugh. "I
think I'm in love with your girl, Zack. I'm so glad you made such a
generous donation and selected her from your long list of conquests to
bring with you tonight."
"So tell us, Cain, just how much money did Tri-Polar make from
performing at this intimate affair for charity?" Zack asks.
Holy shit, he is such a jerk.
The singer's face goes from amused to pissed off in the blink of an
eye. "Nothing," Cain practically snarls at Zack, crossing his pretty
arms over his chest. "And not that it's any of your fucking business,
but our band donated a million to the hospital."
"Wow, thanks, Cain," Marcus Jones says coming up from the other
side of Zack. I'm instantly grateful to him for intervening in what was
turning into a pissing contest. "That's incredibly generous of you to
help our community out in such a huge way. And I bet you didn't
know that Tinker Bell here works for the local breast cancer

foundation. Natalie's too shy to bring it up, but she's the one
organizing the online auction for the signed Wildcats' merchandise
this year."
"Is that right?" Cain asks, his tight expression easing up slightly.
"Um, yes," I say, sounding unsure because of the bizarre situation.
"That's another great cause," he replies. "If you want, I'm sure I can
get you some signed Tri-Polar merchandise for your auction, too."
"Really?" I ask in astonishment. "That would be awesome!"
"Sure," he chuckles, pulling out his cell phone. "Let me get your
number, so we can coordinate getting you some signed shirts and
whatever else we have with us before we fly out tomorrow."
"Of course," I say quickly, rattling off my phone number.
"It's Natalie, right?" Cain asks, glancing up from his typing with a
grin.
"Uh-huh, Natalie Adair." I'm shocked that he remembered my name
after hearing Marcus say it once.
"You guys were great, but I better head home," Marcus says. "See you
tomorrow, Bradford. Nice seeing you again, Tinker Bell."
"You ready?" Zack asks between clenched teeth after his friend walks
away. It's the first words he's uttered in a

while, which reminds me of his likely ulterior motive.
"Don't worry about me. I'm just going to get a cab and head home," I
respond. I'm not sure I trust myself to let Zack take me home and not
give in to his charm. Even if he is angry and I'm right on the verge of
the emotion, too.
"No, don't leave yet, sweetheart. You should come party with us for a
little while," the rocker says.
"That's not going to fucking happen," Zack answers for
me.
"Oh, this should be fun," Cain says with a smirk, anticipating my
wrath.
"You know what, I'm not that tired after all. I think I'll stay, but you
can go on without me, Zack."
"Natalie...I don't think that's a good idea. Let me just take you home."
"No," I say quickly, grinding my teeth together in aggravation.
"There's that word again, twice in one week. Maybe you'll finally
figure out what it means."
"You..." Zack starts, then turns away from me, running his fingers
through his hair, tugging on a blonde chunk of it. "You are the
mosL.stubborn woman I've ever met!"
"Why, because I'm the first woman that refuses to sleep with you? I
warned you that I wouldn't. Did you think I was just playing hard to
get? Did you think that if you spent a fortune on a date that I'd change
my mind? Because I can tell you right now, I'm not!"

"So you won't fuck me, but you'll fuck him, is that it?" he asks,
pointing to the singer who is still snickering while watching our
argument.
"I'm not going to fuck anyone!" I yell at him. "There, do you feel
better? Is your ego appeased now? Have I finally convinced you to
stop pursuing me?"
"We had a deal," he mutters through his clenched teeth and my jaw
drops.
"And you're going to hold me to it for the calendar, aren't you? Why,
Zack? It can't be because you remember me from college and want a
second chance. You didn't even realize who I was until a few hours
ago! I'm just a random girl, no different from the however many
others that came before me and all the ones that will come after me," I
say, shaking my head and blinking back tears. Tears of frustration that
I'm nothing more to him than another piece of ass. "So, unless you
can give me one honest reason why you're doing all this," I gesture
with my hands to the club. "I just want you to leave me alone."
Rage fills Zack's dark eyes, and for a second I'm almost scared that
he's going to hurt me, either with words or his tightly clenched fists.
Then the angry but still gorgeous giant does the last thing I'm
expecting. He picks me up and kisses me.
I gasp and push my palms against his chest, fighting to escape his
strong arms when my feet leave the floor. Oh, but he doesn't fight fair.
Once I feel the slide of his tongue

against mine I'm a goner. I moan and my entire body goes limp in
surrender. The next thing I know he's sitting down and I'm clinging to
his neck right before my bottom lands across his lap like he's a
naughty Santa Claus.
Zack's arms stay wrapped tightly around me, with one large palm
cradling the back of my neck to force me to keep my mouth on his.
He controls the kiss, forcing his tongue into my mouth, while I try to
reciprocate as best I can. I savor the familiar sweet taste of him with
each of his deep thrusts, wanting more.
My fingers comb gently through the back of his thick hair until I give
the strands a tug. When he retreats in response I take advantage,
pressing my body against his chest and exploring his mouth more
thoroughly, feeling the contrast of his bristly chin stubble rubbing
against the smoothness of mine.
I gasp when I feel his hard bulge growing underneath my bottom but
the sound of my surprise, along with his own groan, is drowned by the
kiss. Now I know why my mom always told me not to sit on boys'
laps when I was a teenager.
Zack is very obviously a big man all over. Despite my denials, as
soon as I feel his thick arousal my lower belly tightens with longing.
For the first time I can actually feel how much he truly wants me. I
never said I didn't want him. I just told him I wasn't going to sleep
with him. And I'm not.
I'm not?

No, I'm definitely not.
Our incredible kiss seems to go on forever, the rest of the world
forgotten. I can't remember where we are or what I'd been yelling at
him about.
When my lungs feel like they might explode from oxygen deprivation
I reluctantly pull away, resting my forehead in the crook of Zack's
neck, unable to meet his eyes just yet. My body shivers from the i
ntensity of how damn good that marathon kiss was, even better than
all the ones before it.
"Cold?" Zack asks rubbing a warm palm up and down my arm. I
shake my head since it's not the temperature wreaking havoc on my
body.
"Natalie, when I kiss you...I've never felt anything like this before. I
want more. I'll do anything for more. s that a good enough reason?"
Feeling the same way, I nod since I don't have any other response to
his sweet words. Even now I'm fighting the urge to run my tongue
along the side of his neck and kiss down his scruffy golden jaw to feel
the prickly texture.
"Are you ready for me to take you home? And no, I'm not going to try
and get you to invite me up tonight," he says, resting his chin against
the top of my head. "But eventually you will. It's just a matter of time
and you know it. You wouldn't fight me so hard unless you want me
as much as I want you. Not because you're like every other woman,
but because you're nothing like them."

I know I'm no different from all the others, but he's probably right
about me sleeping with him and that scares the shit out of me.
The next day at work I'm dragging from exhaustion. Zack dropped me
off at my apartment and I went inside alone as he promised around
one a.m. Apparently, our kiss at the club had gone on for a really long
time, and was noticed by those around us.
"Look at you, all cuddled up in the lap of a sexy quarterback!" Rachel
exclaims when she strolls into my office holding up a printed photo
from one of the celebrity gossip websites. "I'm so flippin' jealous!
Now I want to hear everything about the entire date."
After she takes a seat I happily go through the night in extraordinary
detail for her, even the argument before the kiss.
"Wow. You not only met Cain Blevins, but you actually got to touch
him? You could've partied with Tri-Polar?"
"Yeah, but then Zack sort of distracted me for the rest of the night."
"That is one decision between two sexy men I'm glad I'll never have
to make. So, when are you going to see him again?"
"I don't know yet."
"Have you heard from him since last night?"

I smile thinking about the photo he sent me this morning. I grab my
phone and pull up Zack's selfie to show Rachel.
"Yeah. He texted me this picture with a message that said, Aren't you
glad you didn't have to wake up to this? and his hair is all messy." I
flip my phone around to let her see it.
"Son of a monkey's whore," Rachel gasps, clutching her chest in awe,
and making me giggle. "That man is too pretty to be real."
"I know, right? I mean, even with bed head he's still magazine cover
gorgeous."
"And those shoulders and pecs...damn girl. Did you send any pics
back?"
"No way. He probably has pictures of naked models on his phone. I
don't want my mugshot lined up next to all
them."
"You have issues, and one day soon I hope you get the hell over them.
You are beautiful, and don't just take my word for it. Zack Bradford
and Cain Blevins think so, too."
I roll my eyes and then we stop gossiping to discuss actual work,
including the ideas I got from last night's concert to possibly host our
own in the future.
A half an hour later my cell phone vibrates across my desk with an
incoming call from an unknown, out of state number. Rachel stands
up to leave and give me some privacy.

"Hello?" I answer right away, wondering if it might be... "Natalie, hi.
It's Cain."
"Cain," I repeat, glancing up at Rachel who's standing in the doorway.
She fans her face with her hand and then drops dramatically to the
floor, making me giggle into the phone. "My coworker just fainted
hearing that it was you on the phone."
He gave a masculine chuckle. "Well, good to know someone swoons
for me. I take it you and Zack Bradford, ah, kissed and made up?"
"Um, yeah. I guess you could say that."
"Well, my offer still stands. f you give me your address I'll head over
with a couple bags full of items signed by all three of us."
"Wow, that would be great! We're at 1477 Trade Street in
downtown."
"Oh sure. We're staying at a hotel about a block away from Trade. I'll
see you in a few."
"Thank you so much, Cain!" I say before hanging up. "Cain Blevins is
on his way here!" I tell Rachel.
She jumps up from where she'd dramatically fainted and starts
running around the office, notifying Tracy and Amanda who join her
in celebration. Cain is going to think we were all lunatics in North
Carolina.
Before he arrives my cell phone rings again. My mom. It must be
important since she never calls me while I'm at

work.
"Hey, Mom," I answer. "Is everything okay?"
"Why didn't you tell us you were going out with Zack Bradford?" she
exclaims.
"It's just a few dates, no big deal-"
"No big deal? This is a huge deal! Going out with the guy you fell in
love with in college and have crushed on ever since!" she says,
making me cringe with embarrassment.
"I didn't love him, it was just a silly crush."
"Uh-huh," she says, disbelieving. "If I remember correctly, that video
of you two helped get you through your worst days after chemo. No
matter how bad you felt, it always put a smile on your face. And now
you're dating
him?"
"Seriously, Mom, everyone knows what a player he is. I'm not getting
my hopes up that I'm any different."
"Oh, but, sweetie, you are different, and after seeing the photos of you
two last night on the Internet, I think Zack Bradford agrees."
"Whatever," I say, waving off her enthusiasm.
"How have you been feeling?" she asks, and I know exactly what
she's referring to. My family worries more about recurrence than I do,
which is really saying something.
"I feel great."

"Thank goodness. You're only a few weeks away from your
semi-annual checkup. Have you already scheduled your appointment
with Dr. Turner?"
"Yep, I go back to see him on November twenty-ninth, right after
Thanksgiving."
"Great. I'll plan to take the day off to go with you and celebrate."
"You know I won't have the blood work results back until a few days
later."
"I know, but I'm feeling optimistic."
The front door jingles and then Tracy squeals, making me groan. She
could at least try to find some composure now that he's in the
building.
"Sorry, Mom, but I've got to go. Cain Blevins just walked in."
"Cain? Cain Blevins?" I hear her gasping over the line.
"Talk to you later. Love you, Mom," I laugh before hanging up on her
stuttering.
I quickly roll my chair back from my desk to go save the famous
singer. In the front lobby dressed in plain jeans and tee he's
surrounded by my starstruck coworkers.
"Um, ladies, let's give Cain a little room to breathe, okay?" I ask
them.
He smiles at me, holding up the two big bags. "Hi, sweetheart," he
says in greeting and the three women

whimper. "Sorry, but this was all we had with us."
"No, this is great. Seriously. We really appreciate it. I'll get it up on
the auction in a few hours and then let you know how much we raise
at the end of the month."
"Great. Save my number in your phone," he says, making Rachel
squeak, and drawing his attention to her as he heads to the front door
to make an escape. "Is she the one that fainted?" he asks me gesturing
to her with his thumb.
"Um, yes."
"Then text me her number." He chuckles when Rachel squeaks
supersonically again.
"Absolutely," I promise.
We all shout goodbye as he walks out of the building.
"Natalie, I swear I think you're a freaking hot guy magnet," Tracy
says, making us all laugh.

Chapter Seven
Zack
Friday after practice I shower and get ready for my and Natalie's third
date. Only one more after tonight. I have to figure out a way to
convince her to keep seeing me.
The press from Wednesday night had been insane with headlines like,
"Who's the mystery woman who wrapped Zack Bradford around her
finger?" Dean says Satan and Jerry are happy, which means I can't do
anything to fuck this up with Natalie. I need her to keep going out
with me, so I can keep my contract. I also want to keep seeing her.
There's something about her...and kissing her, well, it's unlike
anything I've ever felt before. The exhilaration, the heat, it reminds
me of my first kiss as a teenager. Feeling that amazing tingling
sensation and connection with someone for the very first time...only
with Natalie, it happens every single time.
And of course I want a helluva lot more than to just kiss Natalie. I
mean, who wouldn't? She's gorgeous and just so damn adorable.
There's also something about her that draws people in, like my
teammate and that fucker, Cain Blevins. Thinking about how he'd
tried to make a move on

her, and hell, now had her phone number, has me so enraged I want to
break his jaw. And the part I can't figure out is I actually liked the
bastard and had been a fan of his until he made a move on Natalie.
I'm still not sure why I got so fucked up about her and him that night.
She's just the saintly woman I need around me if I want to keep
playing football, nothing more. But I can't afford to have her fall for
someone or even agree to date someone else. I'd be screwed if the
press found out we were no longer together. And fucking her, well I'm
telling myself that would just be an added benefit.
Although...something about that has my stomach in knots.
I pull into her apartment complex, turn off the car off, and head up to
get her. I still can't believe I'm actually going to comply with her
spending limit rule. I've never had a woman tell me to not spend
money on her.
After my knock, Natalie answers a second later, wearing a sleeveless
black dress that hugs her curves and ends just above her knees. Again,
she's wearing a pair of black, fuck-me heels.
"Hey," she says, sounding out of breath.
"Hey. You look great," I tell her, unable to hide my smile.
"You, too," she says with her own wide grin.
Pulling the door closed behind her, she locks the door then throws the
keys into her little purse. "So where are we going? The Rinky Dink?"
She giggles.

"Not tonight," I respond. "The Comedy Zone."
"Sounds fun. I could use a few laughs," she says as we head for the
parking lot.
"Me, too," I agree. "So how was work this week?" I ask, opening the
car door to help her into the passenger seat.
"Great," she replies, sliding in without another word.
I want to know if that punk rock fucker made good on his offer. "So
did you hear from Cain Blevins?" I ask, needing to know for whatever
reason. Oh, to make sure she wouldn't be seen in public with anyone
else. Yeah, that's it.
"I did. He came by with some signed hoodies, shirts and posters
yesterday morning. We sent out notices on all our social media sites
and email list, and I've already added everything to the auction site."
"That's good. Did he flirt with you when you saw him?" I
ask.
"Um, no," she smiles. "He actually wanted one of my coworker's
number, so I texted it to him."
"Oh really?" I ask in relief. I don't want to date the woman who's also
dating that fucker. Now I hate him a tiny bit little less.
"Yeah, but I don't think he's called her. She's still taking her phone
with her everywhere just in case. Her and my other coworkers are
freaking out that they met him, and they're pissed they didn't think to
get any pictures with him while he was there."

"You ready?" I ask as soon as I park outside the club. I really didn't
want to hear any more about that jackass.
"Sure," she says.
I jump out of the car and go around to open the door for Natalie.
When she takes my hand and stands up, I lean down and cover her
shimmering pink lips with mine. I'm hoping to loosen her up and
maybe have a few pictures snapped. But hell, really I just want to
taste her again.
I moan against her lips which are the same delicious flavor as before.
"Mmm. You taste like cupcakes," I tell her after I straighten back up
and lick my now moist lips.
"It's vanilla, and you're not going to make this easy, are you?" she
asks breathlessly.
"Of course not." I smile at her lustful expression. Now, I know better
than to anticipate anything happening at the end of the night, but a
man can wish. "Come on, let's go in."
We walk through the entrance of the comedy club, and once we're
inside with other people around, Natalie tries to pull her hand away
from mine. I hold it firmer just to aggravate her.
She's the opposite of every other woman I've ever dated. In public
most women latch on to me like we're Siamese twins and can't wait to
have their picture taken. Even Lacy was clingy the few times we were
out in public together, although hers was more of staking her claim
than affection, since she knew I'd cheated on her. I've never had a
woman try to pull away from me. Natalie really is rough on

my ego.
"Table for two reserved under Bradford," I tell the hostess.
The woman bites her lip and shamelessly looks me up and down for
several seconds before she gasps. "You're Zack Bradford! Oh my
God, it's really you!"
I hate when people do that shit, tell me my own name. I squeeze
Natalie's hand and look over to see how she's holding up. She looks
amused, but happy at least.
"Yep, it's me. Is our table ready?" I ask trying to move the hostess
along.
"Sure, right this way," she says as she finally walks us over to a
semi-circle booth in the back. Perfect. I can sit beside Natalie and
keep my hands on her.
Once we both slide in, we meet in the middle with our thighs
touching. I put an arm over the back of the booth, and give Natalie's
shoulder a squeeze. I know I'm probably sitting closer than she likes,
but she's too nice to say so. And I'm going to take advantage of that.
"You're server will be right with you," the hostess says. I'd forgotten
she was still standing there.
"Thanks," I tell her so she'd know she's free to go.
"Everyone's looking at us," Natalie says softly while her eyes sweep
around the room. This date will be different from Wednesday night
since all those uppity people at Chemistry didn't gawk at us. Now that
we're out in the

general public, well, that's a whole other ballgame.
"Probably talking about us and taking pictures, too." f we're lucky.
"Welcome to my life," I whisper against her ear. "I've forgotten what
it's like to have any privacy, and I swear it's getting worse."
"Because you're getting better," she says, and I lean back to see her
face.
"Wait. Was that, was that a compliment?"
She squares her shoulders and straightens her back while looking
away. "Maybe."
"You act like it causes you physical pain to admit that."
"It wouldn't be so bad if you weren't so damn smug."
"So I'm not supposed to be proud of all the years of hard work I've put
in to become one of the best quarterbacks in the league?"
"I didn't say that."
"Is it my fault I was voted Sexiest Man Alive two years in a row?"
She shakes her head and smiles.
"I know I'm good at the sport I love and that I'm attractive, but that
doesn't mean I don't have insecurities like everyone else."
"So what are your insecurities?" she asks, tilting her head up. After a
moment of looking into her beautiful jade

eyes I decide to tell her the truth.
"I'm scared of being the best."
Over the years, the pressure on my shoulders keeps growing instead
of getting easier. I can't ever actually enjoy being successful before I
have to strive to hit the next milestone. In high school it was to be
good enough to get a scholarship. In college it was to be better than
the other quarterbacks on our team. Once I made first string I had to
play my best so I'd get selected for the draft. After being the first
round draft pick for the NFL it was the pressure of proving I could
succeed in the big leagues, which is not the easiest transition to make
from college. Now that I won the Rookie of the Year award I have to
show everyone I can perform even better than I did in my first year.
"Because after you become the best, there's only one direction to go?
Down?" Natalie asks quietly. "You can't let that hold you back. Who's
to say where the top really is? As long as you have your own goals to
keep reaching for, you won't ever fall."
I smile in surprise when she actually understands exactly what I mean.
And I know what she's trying to tell me, that as long as I keep striving
to make improvements to myself, who cares what everyone else says.
Easier said than done with it feels like the entire world is watching
and judging my every move.
"Maybe you're right," I concede and then decide to lighten things up.
"And how about helping me with this other

insecurity. My ex says I need to learn a few things in the bedroom.
You're an older woman, you want to be my teacher?" I ask, and her
jaw drops.
"I'm only a month older, and I'm sure you're fine in the bedroom.
When you hurt a woman her first knee-jerk reaction is to attack a
man's masculinity."
"I think she was pretty serious, and I can admit that her calling me a
selfish lover was warranted."
"Well then that's something you can easily fix."
"Maybe so, but I think I need some practice. Especially with oral," I
tell her. She barks out a laugh and blushes right as our waitress comes
up to take our order. I nod for Natalie to go first.
"I'd like a strawberry daiquiri," she tells the waitress, but I have a
feeling the woman isn't paying attention since she's staring at me. I'll
remember since that's what Lacy always ordered too.
"And let me get a bottle of Daughtry's."
"Sure thing, Mr. Bradford," the waitress says. Her tone sounds
breathy like Marilyn Monroe saying "Mr. President." "And what was
it you wanted?" she asks Natalie again.
"Strawberry daiquiri," I repeat, thinking she's more likely to
remember it if it comes from me.
"I'll be right back."
"You distracted the poor woman." Natalie says with an amused smirk.

I run my hand up and down the side of her arm and feel chill bumps
raise along my path. "You're the only woman I want to distract," I tell
her, pressing my lips to her neck. I can't help but notice when her sexy
little body shivers against mine, along with her sharp intake of breath.
"Are you hungry?" I ask, grabbing the menu and holding it out in
front of us so we can both see it. Food is the last thing on my mind,
but I figure Natalie might want to eat something.
"I don't want much."
"Good, since I can't afford much with your spending limit in place," I
tease. "Split a pizza?"
"Sure."
The woman is spoiling me. I'm used to the women I date wanting
expensive restaurants and for me to buy them extravagant shit. Natalie
just goes with the flow, and I'd almost bet she would never ask me for
anything of material value.
"So tell me something about Zack Bradford that has nothing to do
with football," Natalie says after the waitress returns with our drinks
and leaves with our food order.
"Something not about football?" I repeat. "That's tough since
football's basically been my life since I started playing when I was
six-years-old. I figure it's the sacrifice for getting to the NFL. During
the season I play and during the off season I train to get better."
"But there has to be more to you than football. Oh, and

women, of course."
"I eat, sleep, and even dream of football. I get up early and workout
with my trainer most days. Go to practice. Watch tapes and study the
playbook at night. In my free time I watch college or other NFL teams
play on TV."
"Okay, that's kind of sad," she says, twirling her red straw around in
her girly drink. "So let me ask it this way, if you weren't a football
player, what would you be doing instead?"
"Easy. I probably would've tried to go to medical school. Tried being
the keyword."
"Medical school?" Natalie exclaims so loud even more people turn to
look at us. She covers her mouth and blushes. "Sorry, that was
just...unexpected."
"Why, because I'm a dumb jock?" I chuckle.
"No! That's not what I meant at all."
"Sure," I tease her. "But seriously, my dad's a doctor. A pediatrician,
actually, so that was my backup plan. Thank God football worked
out! Struggling to get in and get through medical school would've
sucked."
"Wow. That's...I had no idea."
"What about you? What would you be doing if you didn't work at the
foundation? What was your major at Carolina?"
Natalie fidgets with the pink breast cancer bracelet on her wrist like
she's nervous. "Don't laugh, but I was an art major. What a waste,
huh?"

"Why's that a waste?" I ask.
She shrugs her shoulders. "You know, the whole starving artist thing.
It never would've paid the bills, that's for sure, but I wanted to be a
sports photojournalist. There's just something amazing about being
able to capture a perfect moment and save it before it's lost forever."
"So why don't you? Why did you leave school?" I asked her again.
The look on her face...she just seems so passionate talking about
photography.
This time we're interrupted by a fan before she can answer my
question.
Normally I don't mind signing autographs even if it takes all day, but I
don't want Natalie to feel uncomfortable with the attention. I have to
gradually ease her into the public spotlight or she'll probably run for
the hills before this starts.
After the first brave soul that approaches me, there's always more that
follow. On the sixth request I turn to Natalie. "You okay with this?" I
ask, and when she smiles wider I brace myself for what's coming.
"Hell, even I was once a Zack Bradford fan. At least until I actually
met you," she jokes, or at least I hope it's a joke. The college aged kid
I'm signing a hat for chuckles at her remark and tries to cover it with a
cough. After Natalie takes a picture of us for him, the fan wanders off.
"I'm trying to sway you back into my fan camp again," I tell her,
reaching down to squeeze her bare thigh above her

knee.
"You're going to have to try harder," she says, covering my hand with
her own small one.
Unable to resist, I lower my lips to run them across her hair and neck,
then over the top of her ear before she tilts her head for me to kiss her
lips. My hand on her leg moves higher toward the apex of her thighs
as our tongues meet, tentatively at first, and then become more urgent,
just like Wednesday night. Every time I kiss this woman I get swept
away.
"Here you go. Can I get you anything else?" The waitress has to
choose that moment to interrupt with food.
Damn it! I know the woman beside me is going to instantly withdraw
from me again and then it'll take another half hour or more to get back
to where we just were.
"Refills would be great," I tell her, figuring a little alcohol wouldn't
hurt to lower Natalie's inhibitions enough to relax with me.
"Are you trying to get me drunk?" she asks when the waitress finally
wanders off.
"I just want you to loosen up and have a good time."
"Right," she says sarcastically. "Well, you're still going to be
disappointed at the end of the night."
"I don't have any expectations, baby. I just want you to have a good
time with me tonight before I drop you off at home. I want you to
think about me when you go to bed

alone, and wonder what it'd be like to have me there beside you," I tell
her, placing a kiss next to her ear. "Or even better, what it'd feel like
to have me above you, buried deep inside of you. But I have to admit
that when I imagine our first time together...your sexy little body is
riding the fuck out of my cock."

Chapter Seven
Natalie
I reach for my glass with a shaky hand and drain the rest of my first
daiquiri when the second one arrives. My body feels like it's strung
tight and overheating. Just looking at the man beside me usually has
that effect on me, but with the side of his big, warm body against
mine, his hand moving up my thigh and my lips and neck still damp
from his kisses, I'm about to catch fire. Oh yeah, and then there are his
heated words that I have to deal with, too.
I want him. Not just in the "wow, he's hot way," but in the "I want to
get naked and roll around with him until his long, hard length relieves
the pressure building between my thighs," way.
No, no, no. I can't go there with him! Not unless I insist on a
no-contact order for my upper torso and keep my chest covered the
whole time. Kissing him is incredibly nice, but I don't want to end up
on his long list of conquests. My resolve always seems to hold strong
until I get around him and he starts touching me. I need to get some
air and some separation from him to get my wits together.
"I'm going to run to the restroom," I tell him. "I'll be right

back."
I'm out of the booth in record time, heading for the back hallway of
the club. There's a line for the ladies' room of course, so I stand and
wait trying to take deep breaths to clear my head and cool off my
hormones. I have to stop kissing that man or I'm going to keep
drowning even further. It's too much, too good, and I can't handle it.
I realize now that my initial anger at Zack may have had more to do
with him kissing me in college and not remembering me, more so
than the fact that he'd been really late. It was silly to think that after
that kiss that we'd end up together, but that's what my younger,
dumber self imagined happening. At least now he knew it had been
me that he crushed in more ways than one during that game.
I'd promised him four dates and I'm half way through the third. It's for
a good cause, I remind myself. I can do this. I will be strong, put a
little more distance between us, and after the photoshoot in a little
over two weeks we'll be done.
A sharp pang of sadness flits through me. I'm going to miss Zack and
his surprise lunches, sweet flowers, tickets to games, and jusL.him.
His smile, his touch, his playfulness and smooth, confidence boosting
lines. Lines that lots of other women have heard before, long enough
for him to get what he wants and then move quickly along to someone
else. I'm no different than all the rest, and look where they all ended
up. Cast aside and forgotten, quicker than yesterday's newspaper.

Zack even admitted that he doesn't do the relationship thing. That he
cheated on his ex and has sex with women all the freaking time. Why
would he give up his wild ways for someone like me? Someone
missing standard female anatomy that most men probably obsess
about on a daily, if not hourly, basis.
After I calm myself down and use the facilities, I head back out to our
table. Zack gives me a questioning look when I glance up at him.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asks as I slide back in the booth. Unlike
before, I stop short, putting several inches between our bodies.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, grabbing a slice of pizza and taking a bite for
the distraction. If my mouth is full then he can't expect me to answer
his questions. And damn, he's already eaten more than half of it
during those few minutes I was gone.
"Uh-huh. Then why are you sitting all the way over there, acting like I
have cooties?" he asks and I have to use a napkin to cover my laugh.
I grab my second daiquiri and take a big swallow from the straw to
wash down the pizza. Which is probably a mistake. Throwing alcohol
on the inferno inside me isn't going to be very helpful in keeping my
distance. Lord knows it didn't help Wednesday night when I ended up
making out with Zack in public for hours.
Luckily the lights dim, saving me from a response when

the warm-up comedian comes out on stage. Resolving the distance
issue himself, Zack merely slides around the booth until his thigh is
against mine again, and his arm is around me.
Damn it, I can't resist him. It's almost painful to keep trying to fight
the pull I feel, the one I've always felt toward Zack. Especially when
he smells so good, like the sun and ocean waves, and he's wrapped
around me all big and warm and...comfortable. Giving up on my pizza
I lean into his chest, allowing his arm to come around and tuck me
into his side. It seems so natural and perfect. I feel like I'm finally
where I'm meant to be.
I can barely follow the jokes on stage because I'm distracted by Zack's
large fingers trailing unknown patterns up and down my side. When I
don't protest, his other palm comes back and caresses my bare thigh,
sending delicious tingles all the way through me, tightening my belly.
I finish up my second alcoholic beverage and even start on the third
when the waitress magically appears with another one.
"Mm, whipped cream," Zack whispers against my ear before he dips
the tip of his long index finger into the white fluff and offers it to me
with a cocky smile. He's daring me, and probably thinks I'll refuse.
I'm starting to feel a rather nice buzz, so instead of declining, I grab
his wrist and cover his entire finger with my mouth, swirling my
tongue around it as I pull back, sucking off the cream. I hear Zack
mutter a curse before his finger pops free and then his mouth is

suddenly crashing down on mine.
It's a needy, sensual kiss that sets me on fire, and I'm not the only one
burning. Zack's mouth and touch are almost frantic. His hand moves
up my thigh, underneath my dress, and I don't even try to stop the
progress of his quarterback sneak. In fact I may have uncrossed my
legs to give him better access. The ache from earlier is back and
growing stronger.
Alone in our dark, secluded corner with only a candle flickering for
light, Zack's long, wet, and previously whipped cream covered
fingertip glides over the center of my panties. I almost come right
then. Instead, he swallows my gasp, and my hands reach out, grabbing
the front of his shirt before rubbing my way up his rock hard stomach
and chest. I hold him to me, making sure he doesn't move his hands
away from my body.
As his tongue penetrates my mouth in sensual thrusts, his fingers do
the same, feeling me through my damp panties. I almost cry out when
he nudges the fabric out of his way to stroke my flesh. His expert
fingers quickly find my swollen, and much neglected pleasure button,
making me come so fast it feels like the room is spinning around us. I
pant through the wonderful release as he continues kissing me. Softly
and slowly, his lips and tongue begin calming mine as my body
relaxes and floats back down content and sated.
"I want you so fucking bad I can't stand it," Zack breathes heavily
against my ear as he removes his hand

from underneath my dress.
Coming out of the lust haze, I remember where we are. I open my
eyes and look around, but to everyone else in the club we'd only been
kissing as far they can tell. I'm certain that our laps are fully hidden
behind the thick table in front of us. There are no knowing looks, just
the occasional, general glances from fans.
Oh God! I can't believe I just let Zack Bradford finger me in a
crowded public place. I'm not sure what's come over me. I always
seem to lose myself with him, and it feels so damn good that I don't
want to ever be found.
"No one saw anything," Zack assures me and I nod against his chest.
Even if they had I'd almost say it was worth it. It's been years since a
man has touched me, and now after all that time the man doing the
touching is a sexy football god. Speaking of which...
"We have any football fans in here?" the comedian asks from the
stage, grabbing my attention. "How about the hometown team? Any
Wildcats' fans in the house?" The crowd cheers loudly in response.
"Zack Bradford's here!" someone in the audience exclaims.
Oh no.
"Zack motherfucking Bradford is here? Where the hell is that
handsome son of a bitch?" Everyone laughs when

the comedian uses his hands to shield his eyes and look over the
audience. I feel the man in question tense up beside me. "Ah, there he
is in the back! Yo, Zack, I'm a huge fan!"
"Thanks, man. Glad to hear it," Zack yells back.
"You are a legend among men! You're a damn good quarterback,
well, most of the time, and the only thing you're rolling in more than
dollars is pussy," the man on stage says and the crowd laughs.
"Fuck," Zack mutters under his breath. To me, he says,
"Sorry."
I think he must be psychic because it was about to get worse.
"And look at the fine ass woman on your arm tonight. Hell, I think I'm
a little jealous. I know every woman in here is jealous of her, and
probably more than half the men. Fine, that's not exactly true. All the
men are jealous, too." After a short break of cackles from the
audience he continues. "I'm not going to lie, I'd suck your cock for
some sweet tickets." The crowd roars after that statement. Zack makes
a small, quiet groan of aggravation. "I'm not even gay, but you better
believe I'd sing to the world, I sucked Zack Bradford's cock and I
liked it!'
Oh sweet baby Jesus. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is now looking
at us. My face is scorching hot, and by now has to be the deepest
shade of red possible.
Pulling up his t-shirt to show his hairy pot belly, the

comedian continues on with his inappropriateness. "I'd get you to
autograph my belly afterwards and then I'd go get a tattoo of it,
adding the words, 'Here lies Zack motherfucking Bradford's unborn
children.'"
At that point I can't contain my laugh at the man's ridiculous joke. It's
impossible to hold it in any longer. Zack looks down at me in surprise
for a second before his own face splits into a smile.
"Don't be shy, Zack's date. You're a lucky lady. You hold your head
high and get your freak on with that sexy ass man while you can," the
comedian says. "After he moves on to his next pussy, men will be
lining up, just for a chance to stick their dicks where Zack
motherfucking Bradford's dick has been. Your pussy can become a
tourist destination. Step right up, come one, come all to get a look at
the coveted pussy, stretched by the one and only Rookie of the Year
and Sexiest Man of the Year!"
"Oh geez," Zack mutters as he picks up his third beer and throws it
back. "I'm sorry, Natalie. I had no idea..."
"It's not your fault. And he's kind of funny," I whisper.
"I owe you for putting you through this hell. You'll have to let me
have a date redo to make up for it."
"It's fine," I tell him, giving him a quick kiss on his lips.
The comedian is right. I am a lucky woman to be with such an
amazing man, and I'm not going to waste any more time trying to
resist him. I could certainly use a little indulgence of the physical
kind, and it won't necessarily

have to lead to sex. Although, that's exactly what I want at the
moment.
After those few minutes of the spotlight, the comedian moved on and
the night came to an end way too soon.
Zack drives us back to my apartment and turns his expensive car off
after he pulls into a parking spot, but doesn't offer to get out. During
the short drive I'd been having an internal debate on how to end the
night.
"Thanks for coming out with me again tonight," Zack says as he turns
toward me in the darkness. Only the glow from the nearby lamp post
lights up the car, making his light hair and eyes shine. "I'm really,
really sorry about the comedian. I should've realized it had the
potential to go that
shitty."
"I told you, it's not your fault. You can't help if you're famous and
men want to give you blow jobs," I tell him and he returns my smile.
"Did you have fun?" he asks as he grabs my hand and threads his
warm fingers with mine.
"I really did. Going out with you isn't as painful as I thought it'd be," I
tease him.
"Are you seriously only going to give me one more date?" he asks.
"We'll see. After the calendar's done we might be able to renegotiate
our deal."
"Good," he says, bringing our hands to his lips and

kissing my knuckles sweetly.
"I owe you an apology. You're not the arrogant asshole I thought you
were," I tell him, which causes him to frown.
"I wouldn't go that far, but I want to be better. I'm trying
to be better."
"And it's working," I tell him and he gives me a small smile.
Even smiling at only ten percent brightness the man is so gorgeous it
hurts. He's like the sun, glowing bright and so damn warm. I know I'm
going to end up getting burnt, and that I'll be even colder when it
ends, but I can't resist him.
Before I even realize what I'm doing I unbuckle my seatbelt and crawl
over the console, straddling Zack's lap. His eyes widen in surprise for
just a second before his arms wrap around me, holding my body to his
as he kisses me hungrily.
When his hands start moving up my sides, I freeze and grab a hold of
them to stop his forward progress. "Would you mind...keeping your
hands below the waist only?" I ask with only an inch between our
mouths.
Zack grins right before his palms slap down and grab both of my ass
cheeks. "That I can easily do," he says, and then his mouth is on mine
again.
I run my fingers through his oh so soft hair as he kneads my ass and
grinds my hips into the rock hard erection bulging from his jeans.
Moans escape past my lips and

drown in our kiss when need takes over my body. This gorgeous man
makes me feel things I hadn't felt in years, if ever. I want him more
than I want my next breath.
My hands grow a mind of their own, feeling my desperation. They
unzip Zack's pants to pull out his almost intimidatingly long, hard
cock.
"Ah, fuck," he groans when I wrap my hand around his length and
stroke the silky flesh, making it swell even more in my fist. "That's it
baby...been hurtin' all nighL.need you so
bad."
"Ohh!" I cry out whe n Zack rips off my thong while I'm distracted,
and then suddenly plunges two thick fingers inside me from behind.
I'm so wet and ready they slide right in without meeting any
resistance.
Our mouths become frantic, biting tongues on accident, clanging teeth
because of our out of control gasping and moaning. I keep stroking
him while his hips buck and he fucks me hard and fast with his
fingers.
"Ride my cock, Natalie...just...oh God...fuck me. Please fuck me."
"Yes, ah, yes!" I shout the words at the same time my body shakes all
over while my creamy walls clench around his fingers deep inside of
me. Before my body even recovers I'm already desperate for another
release.
No questions asked and no more words needed, Zack pulls out a
condom from his pocket and rolls it down his impressive length. I
don't hesitate as I guide his shaft to my

soaking wet entrance and impale myself on him. And man, he is a lot
to take.
"God, you're big," I tell him in an exhale of breath after he's only
about halfway in. "And it's been awhile. Just...give me a second."
"Baby, you can take all the time you need," Zack says as he kisses my
neck and his hands continue massaging my bare ass, since my dress is
hiked up to my waist. It forms a nice do-not-cross boundary line.
I raise up on my knees and then lower myself down a little farther,
making Zack groan in response.
"Do that again," he says, and I comply over and over again until my
thighs are almost hitting the top of his. That's far as I can go. "Fuck,
you feel good. Don't stop," he begs.
And oh, boy, does it feel good. It's incredible, having him hit the
neglected spot deep within me, taking me closer and closer to another
release. I moan as the pressure inside me builds, threatening to tear
me apart. I'm panting so hard I can't keep kissing him. I need oxygen.
I need more of him.
Zack's hands on my bottom guide my movements up and down,
bouncing me faster and harder on his thick cock while his tongue
dives back into my mouth going at the same intensity.
"Ah, your ass... " He pulls back and groans, roughly squeezing two
handfuls of my bottom. "Your ass is incredible..."

I'm right on the edge of another climax when I feel the pressure of his
fingertip. The one that's penetrating my...end zone. It's...different and
I'm not sure if that's good or bad.
"I want this perfect...tight...ass. I want to lick it, bite it...and I want to
be the first one to fuck it."
"Ah! Oh God^" I cry out when his naughty proprietary words finally
do me in.
Good...it feels so damn good when my orgasm bursts from inside me
like a ruptured dam, sending tingling waves of pleasure through my
body in one spasm after another. Words fall from my lips, prayers and
curses alike until there's nothing left in me. My forehead slumps
forward onto Zack's shoulder. Arms around his neck, I hold onto him
for dear life until I feel his body shudder against mine with his own
release.
I don't want to move, and I'm not sure I can even if I had to. I want to
stay right where I am, wrapped in his warm, strong arms. Just a few
seconds more and I'll make myself leave him.
Okay, maybe a few minutes.
Eventually I force myself to lift my head and look him in his eyes
again.
"You okay?" he asks with his perfect white smile that glows bright in
the darkness.
"I'm great."

"Good," he says in an exhale. "Me, too." His fingertips brush the
damp hair away from my face sweetly and I shiver at his gentleness.
"Thank you for breaking your rule with me."
"It was well worth the wait," I tell him with what I know has to be a
goofy post-coital grin on my face.
"How long was the wait?" he asks.
"Um, about four years," I admit, blushing on top of my flush from
arousal.
"Wow. That's a hell of a wait," he responds before lightly pressing his
lips over mine, then down my jaw. "Can I see you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?" I ask.
"I want to spend the whole day with you. Maybe we can go to
Carowndts and play?"
"Really?" I ask, unable to stop combing my fingers through his
wonderful hair. A whole day at an amusement park with Zack
Bradford?
"Yeah. It's barely in the date budget, but I think I can make it work if
we pack a lunch. I'll pick you up at say, ten?"
"In the morning?" I ask.
"Yes, in the morning. I'm serious about spending the whole day with
you."
"Could we maybe do this again?" I ask, biting my lower lip after
saying something so bold.

"Hell yes. As many times as you want," Zack promises.
"Okay. Then I'll see you at ten."
I move back to the passenger seat and lift my hips to tug my dress
back down into place. Leaning over the console, I steal one last quick
kiss and then I climb out of his car before I do something crazy like
invite him inside.

Chapter Eight
Zack
It's too damn early to be up on a Saturday morning. Why did I insist
on starting the day at ten fucking a.m. on my day off? diotic. It doesn't
help that I barely slept any last night. After Natalie shocked the fuck
out of me, and well, fucked me in the front seat of my car, I couldn't
stop thinking about her.
What is that woman doing to me? I don't obsess over women or hold
their hands. And I definitely don't finger them in a public place filled
with people without asking for anything in return. I also never want to
see a woman again after we fuck, much less jerk myself off thinking
about how soon I can be with the same woman. Yet, in the last
twenty-four hours I've done all of the above. Those confusing
thoughts, along with how guilty I feel for using Natalie, are why I
ended up staring at the ceiling for hours during the night.
I need coffee. Lots and lots of motherfucking coffee.
Sunglasses and baseball hat pulled low to block out the blinding
autumn sun and somewhat conceal my identity, I knock on Natalie's
apartment door.

"Holy fuck, woman!" I exclaim when she opens her door wearing her
old Carolina blue college cheerleading uniform. Her blonde hair is
pulled back in a high ponytail, and combined with her stunning smile
she's so damn innocent and beautiful that it hurts. She looks just like
she did the day I knocked her down at the Virginia Tech game.
"You asked if I still had it," she says with her hands on her hips, her
jade eyes playful and way too perky this early.
My dick's starting to feel pretty fucking perky, too. It seems like when
it comes to Natalie my dick is always ready to go, which is a relief
after it's been so damn temperamental lately. In fact, I've been in an
almost constant state of arousal since I met her.
I take my sunglasses off and hang them on my jean pocket to see her
better. I can't resist reaching down for Natalie's bare thigh and running
my palm up under her very short pleated skirt.
"What will it take to convince you to flash me?" I ask her. "I'd love to
see what kind of panties you've got on underneath."
"Sorry," she says with her own wide smile that probably matches
mine. "But I'm not wearing any."
I barely catch my chin before it hits the damn ground. I instantly surge
forward, tackling her and closing her door with my foot once I'm
inside her apartment. Natalie squeals when I pick her up. My hands
grip her behind, seeking out the truth of her confession.

Honest to God, there's not a scrap of fabric covering her pussy.
"You naughty girl," I tell her against her lips before I kiss her
frantically and carry her to the living room. The woman weighs
practically nothing. "You're in for it now."
I lay her down on the navy blue couch, leaving her hips on the
armrest.
"Zack, what are you doing?" she asks.
"I'll give you three guesses," I tell her. Dropping to my knees I push
up Natalie's pleated skirt and take in the sight before me.
Goddamn.
Her perfectly groomed pink pussy is open to me, glistening with her
arousal. The delicious smell of cupcakes surrounds me, probably from
her lotion or body wash. I won't be able to eat one of those fucking
things again without thinking about eating her. After I yank my hat
off and toss it out of the way, I throw her legs over my shoulder to
lean forward and lick up her wetness.
"Oh!" she exclaims and I have to hold down her thighs when she
squirms. From the way her body is inclined I can watch the pleasure
light up her face as I eat her out. Her hands grab for the sofa cushions
while her eyes are closed and her pink lips are parted.
I sweep my tongue up the center of her slit again, using it to part her
lower lips. The contact makes her moan and arch her back. With a
few fast flicks of my tongue over her

clit, her hips go wild. My cock is so hard it's trying to stab a hole
through my jeans.
"Yes! Please, Zack!" Natalie cries out.
Lacking experience on this type of oral, I decide to alternate between
swirling my tongue in her tight opening and teasing her clit. Unable to
resist, I dip my index finger into all that wetness and swirl it around
before withdrawing and then penetrating her even lower. Her perfect
virgin ass is so fucking tight. It'll take a while to get her ready to take
my huge cock, but it'll be so damn worth it.
"Oh God!" she screams when she squirms in my hold.
"Want me to stop?" I ask.
"No! Please...I'm so close."
I lower my head again and devour her pussy while I keep fucking her
with my finger. As her moans become louder and she grabs a handful
of my hair, holding my mouth to her pussy I lose all my initial
hesitation that I don't know what the hell I'm doing. When Natalie's
legs tighten around my head and she comes on my tongue, shaking
with a scream of pleasure, I damn near celebrate with a touchdown
dance. I really want to do this particular trick more often with this
woman, but right now I have to get inside of her.
While she's still gasping for breath I stand up and pull out a condom
from my pocket.
"Please," she begs, her chest rising and falling rapidly

as she watches me with lust hazed eyes. "I need you in me."
I really like how she said "need" instead of "want."
"Soon, baby," I tell her as I quickly tear the package, unzip my pants,
and roll on the condom. I flip her tiny, limp body over, needing to
take her hard and fast from behind. "You ready?" I ask, squeezing two
handfuls of her amazing ass.
"Yes!"
One hand gripping her hip to keep her still, I rub the head of my cock
over her wetness with the other. Natalie holds herself up on her palms,
push-up style on the sofa cushions. She's so damn small her toes aren't
even touching the ground.
I push forward and suck in a staggering breath at the sensation of her
tight warmth surrounding my cock. Between the sweet little sounds of
her whimpers and her pussy still contracting from her orgasm, she's
going to squeeze me dry in seconds if I don't gain a little control.
I hold still deep inside of her and swivel my hips, relishing the feel of
her. She pushes her hips back, urging me on, and it's so fucking good
I can't hold back any longer.
I groan as I start thrusting in and out, panting with effort as I pick up
the pace. Looking down I grasp her amazing ass while I watch my
cock sink deep and then retreat over and over again, adding more of
her cream to it with each stroke. Her silky walls continue to flutter,
giving me an

exquisitely tight caress.
"Damn Natalie. Your pussy is heaven on Earth, baby."
I clench my teeth and feel sweat breaking out all over as my release
presses down on me, making me pound into her even harder.
"Ohh! Yes" Natalie cries out.
And good God, when the woman comes again with me deep inside of
her, her pussy puts my cock in a complete and total lockdown. Every
muscle in my own body tightens as I give it up with a shout and one
final thrust. My release rocks through me like an earthquake, shaking
me all the way to my soul. It's so staggering that my knees weaken,
barely able to hold me up.
"You okay?" I ask Natalie, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck
once my breathing is mostly back to normal.
"Uh-huh," it sounds like she mutters in the affirmative. Her eyes are
closed and the side of her face is flat against the couch, no longer able
to hold herself up with her arms.
I reluctantly pull out of her, groaning at the loss of her warm heat, and
go in search of her bathroom to throw away the condom and zip back
up. She hasn't moved an inch when I come back, her ass is still in the
air raised in offering. I'll be throwing wood again in seconds if I keep
standing here looking at her.
Instead of fucking her again, I just want to lay down and hold Natalie
while we both recover, but her couch looks too small for both of us to
stretch out on. I gather her up in my

arms and carry her through the apartment, looking for her bedroom.
The first room I enter doesn't appear to have a bed. In fact the only
pieces of furniture in the room are a computer desk and chair. Then I
notice the walls. All four are covered in photos.
I flip the overhead light on and see that one wall is nothing but nature
shots, flowers, animals, landscapes, and trees. Another wall has
pictures of people arranged to form the shape of a large heart. They're
just normal looking people, and I recognize Natalie's friends from
work in a few shots. There's an older man and woman in some, and an
even older couple in others which I assume are her parents and
grandparents.
The third wall is completely covered like...well, wallpaper. Every
single inch is nothing but four by six photos without frames
displaying about anything you can think of. All the photos are
amazing, but the fourth and final wall is breathtaking.
There's a series of large canvases containing football players caught
by the camera at exactly the perfect moment. One is a Colt's wide
receiver leaping up in the air to catch an impossible pass. Another is a
Falcon's running back diving headfirst for a touchdown. There's also
one with a Bengal's tight end at the exact moment he hurdles clear
over a defensive lineman. And then my eyes reach the center photo
and all the others disappear.

It's a little larger canvas than the rest suggesting it's her favorite, and I
can see why since it's the most powerful one.
It's a big football player holding onto a tiny cheerleader like his life
depends on it. The cheerleader's legs are wrapped tightly around his
waist, her arms looped around his neck, climbing him like she can't
seem to get close enough.
It's a photo of us.
I look down at Natalie who's wearing the same outfit as she was in the
photo. Her face is pressed against my chest, and luckily she's still
practically unconscious. I turn off the light and ease out of the room,
unable to handle the emotion threatening to suffocate me after
seeing...hell, it feels like I just trespassed into Natalie's heart.
I try to shake off the compelling image and all the questions it causes
when I finally find her bedroom. There's a sharp, agonizing sting in
my chest that I just want to go the fuck away. I don't need more guilt
or worry to add to my already massive heap. I don't like knowing that
I'll likely end up hurting Natalie more than I even realized.
Shutting out those unfamiliar and unwanted emotions, I snap myself
back to her room. Her queen-sized bed is perfectly made, not a
wrinkle in the white comforter that holds a big plush, blue and black
wildcat in the center of the pillows. The one I sent to her in the gift
basket. It's nice to know she'd at least kept some damn thing from me.
Toeing off my shoes, I lay Natalie down and then climb

up to stretch out beside her.
With her eyes closed, cheeks flushed and a small but satisfied smile
on her face, she is absolutely gorgeous. A few minutes later she starts
blinking her bright green eyes open before covering them quickly
with her arm.
"Oh God," she mutters.
"What?" I ask, lifting her arm so I can see her face.
"You wore me out," she admits, making me smile. "I need more
cardio."
"No you don't, but I'm all in for doing this more often to help build
your stamina. Anytime you want," I tell her and she gives me a smile.
"You know, I was sleepwalking until you opened the door in this
outfit. Now I'm wide awake."
"I was wide awake until I answered the door. Now I'm exhausted."
"We can hang out here in your bed until whenever you're ready," I
assure her.
"Give me a few more minutes and I'll be good to go. Well, after I
change."
"Aw. You mean you're not going to wear the uniform with no panties
to the park?"
She giggles sweetly. "No, only you get to see me this way."
I brush a few loose strands of her hair that has fallen from her
ponytail, behind her ear. "You look just like you did on the field that
day - a sweet, sexy little knockout."

"You're definitely bigger. You bulked up in the pros," she says as she
runs a hand down my t-shirt covered bicep.
"Had to. I'm playing with the big boys now, and they hit a helluva lot
harder than the college guys."
"I worry about you. Don't get hurt. Alex Marshall sucks."
"Oh really? So you don't think he could take my job?" I smirk.
"No. I was just sort of mad at you for being late."
"You're a ballbuster. I really am sorry about that. In my defense, it
had been a horrible morning. The owner had words with me and Jake,
and threatened to end our careers."
"What?" she exclaims and I realize I've said too much.
"It was a stupid misunderstanding, and it's all worked out now."
Because of you, I leave off. "I was just so pissed after the meeting that
I had burn off the anger before I bit someone's head off."
"Then I bit your head off for being late," she says.
"I deserved it. And you calling me out and not putting up with my shit
was sort of a wakeup call. You made me realize what an ass I was
being and that I want to be
better."
"You're not an ass," she says with a smile then cuddles up to me,
resting her head on my chest.
This is the moment. The one where I should come clean

with her and tell her the truth about everything. How it may have
started out as me trying to keep my contract, but that I want to keep
seeing her. What if she gets pissed and throws me out? I don't want to
throw this away. Being with her is too good.
"So, I think my legs work again. I'll go ahead and get ready, so we can
leave."
"Sure. There's no rush. I'll just wait for you in the living room," I tell
her as I reluctantly let go of her, making the decision to keep my
ulterior motives from her, at least for now.
I look down at my buzzing phone and see that it's my manager, Dean.
Shit.
"I better take this. It'll only be a sec," I promise Natalie, and then I
duck under the metal rail to get out of the White Water Falls line so I
can answer with some privacy.
"Dean? What's up?"
"Hey, have you seen the News & Observer website this morning?" he
asks.
I make it a point to not read the newspaper. "Nope,
should I?"
"Oh yeah. Pictures of you and your new girl are making headlines
again. It's good. All good. Jerry's going to be ecstatic."
"You sure?"

"Uh-huh. You can see the goodness oozing off of this woman. She's
beautiful and not the least bit slutty. No tits or ass showing, and she
looks at you like you're more than a dollar sign. All that's missing is
her halo."
"Huh. You got all that from a picture?" I ask.
"Yeah, this time it's several amateur shots from the Comedy Zone.
You two look good together. She coming to the game tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Lower level, front row," I say quietly, looking back over to
where Natalie waits for me. Her blonde hair is still pulled back in a
ponytail and she's wearing a woman's gray Wildcats tee with curve
hugging jeans. She simultaneously manages to look adorably cute and
sexy as fuck.
"Perfect. Be sure to interact with her before, during, or after the game
so that the cameras see it," Dean suggests.
"Okay."
"Keep it up and you won't have anything to worry about," he says
then hangs up.
I really don't like hiding the whole truth from Natalie, especially after
last night.
"Everything okay?" she asks when I take my place with her again in
line.
I nod and pull the bill of my Carolina baseball cap lower on my head.
So far so good on not being recognized.

Although, a little noticing would be what Jerry would want. Maybe
before we leave the park.
I'm sinking to a new low using someone as good as Natalie this way.
But it's not just to save my job anymore. I think I really am starting to
feel something for her. Being with her is a lot different than being
with Lacy. It's better and more comfortable, like we don't have to
even try to have fun together, it just happens. Natalie makes me
happy, filling in a puzzle piece of my life I didn't know I was even
missing until now.
I lean against the metal bars that make the ride's zigzagging line and
then pull Natalie's back against the front of my body, wrapping my
arms around her waist.
"Are you having fun?" I ask, moving my lips along her ear. She
squirms but nods. When she tilts her head up to look up at me with
those stunning jade eyes I can't resist kissing her lips. I turn my cap
around, and when our mouths meet I lose myself.
Apparently our mid-line make out session goes on a little too long.
"You guys mind?" asks the guy behind us.
When I look up I notice the line has indeed moved several feet
forward, and we're holding everyone up.
"Sorry, man" I tell him then turn my cap around to shade my face
again.
"Zack Bradford?" he asks. Well, being anonymous was fun while it
lasted. All thirty minutes. Hard to lay low when I

stand taller and bigger than everyone else at six-five and two-forty.
I nod in the affirmative.
"Holy shit!" the guy exclaims. "Check it out, Mark. It's Zack
Bradford!"
"Wow! Can we get a picture with you?" the friend Mark asks.
"Sure," I agree, not like I have anything else to do in line. Well,
except maybe make out with the beautiful woman I'm with.
"Do you want me to take it?" Natalie asks, and they nod
enthusiastically before handing over their phones. After a few snaps
she calls it good and hands them back.
"Thanks, Zack. You ready for tomorrow's game? Is this your
girlfriend?" the guys asks.
"We're just friends," Natalie responds before I can. The "just friends"
response is usually my line, and it bothers me. Not only because Jerry
insisted on a girlfriend, but because we were just making out and had
hot car sex last night and sofa sex just a few hours ago. We are
definitely more than friends. Ah, damn it! She only agreed to four
dates and this would be it unless we renegotiate.
"Baby, you wound me. 'Just friends'? You know we're more than
that," I tell her in what I hope is a teasing tone then wrap my arms
around her waist again to demonstrate. "Are you embarrassed to be
seen in public with me?" I ask

her the ridiculous question she once asked me.
She laughs softly and shakes her head, but doesn't respond to the
question.
Over the next eight hours we rode every roller coaster and water ride
in the park, and hit up several greasy food stands, having more fun
than I can remember. My trainer would probably balk at all the shit I
put in my stomach today, but I didn't give a fuck. I felt like I earned
those cheat foods after all the walking and standing in lines we'd
done.
Even in the shape I'm in I was exhausted by the time we pulled back
up at Natalie's apartment. Natalie was a trooper, though, never
complaining like most the women I know would have. The woman is
just so sweet and...exuberant that it's contagious. I was surprised that
she didn't even act jealous when women approached me in the park.
Granted, her hand was in mine most of the time, so maybe that's why
she didn't seem fazed by the parade of sluts that tried to throw
themselves at me. Natalie only gave them kind and friendly smiles.
Every second I spend with her it seems like she smiles a little longer
and laughs a little more. I think she might finally be opening up to
me.
Throughout the day I've learned all sorts of little things about her, like
she loses her shit for a Minute Maid frozen lemonade of all things.
She always folds her paper straw wrappers into tiny footballs. She
squeezes my hand tighter

on the uptake of a roller coaster rather than when it's the scariest. And
there's a certain way I can stroke my tongue against hers to make her
whole body go limp in my arms. That last one is my favorite.
"So, um, do you want to come up?" she asks, lowering her eyes and
tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Hell yes," I immediately respond. I'm not that tired.
As soon as we walk through her door we're on each other. I'm not sure
who is more desperate, me or her after all the teasing, innocent
touches during the day. It felt like hours of foreplay.
"I want you," I tell her as I start working on undoing her jeans while
my mouth stays on hers. "Right now. I don't think I can make it to
your bed."
"God yes," she moans breathlessly, tightly gripping my biceps.
"Hands below the belt only."
I pause a second in confusion at her order. She'd said the same thing
the night before.
"Come on, baby, relax," I tell her, knowing it's got to be something
preposterous like she thinks she needs to lose a few pounds, or
whatever other craziness women unnecessarily worry about. I really,
really want to strip her naked and run my hands and mouth all over
every inch of her sexy little body.
I kiss down her neck and my hands move up her sides, lifting her shirt
along the way. Natalie jerks completely away from me and the
expression on her face makes me feel like

I've had a cooler of ice water dumped on my head. She's suddenly
pissed. Actually, angry to the point of tears might be a better
description of how she looks.
"I had fun today, but um, you should probably go," she says briskly,
crossing her arms over her chest and avoiding my eyes.
"Fine," I say, holding up my hands in surrender. "I won't go above the
waist, if that's what you want."
Apparently what Natalie wants is for me to leave, as demonstrated by
her heading back to the door and opening it wide. I'm fucking being
dismissed. Never before have I been dismissed.
"Wow. Okay, I'm not sure what the hell is going on, but fine, I'll go.
I'll see you at the game tomorrow," I tell her. After bending down for
a quick kiss to her cheek that makes her flinch, I leave her apartment
in shock, and so fucking confused.

Chapter Nine
Natalie
Front row seats in the Wildcats' stadium are incredible. We're sitting
dead center between the goal posts, so whenever one of the teams get
ready to score on our end of the field, it's going to be awesome! Even
my coworkers who don't know offense from defense are excited. It
feels like we can almost reach out and touch the visiting team, the
Giants, warming up in front of us. Of course I look over at the other
end of the field for Zack, but don't see number fourteen on the field.
I have on my required black, number fourteen Bradford jersey and am
trying to enjoy the crisp autumn air and have fun with my friends. I
still can't shake off the awkward way things ended last night though.
I had so much fun with Zack this weekend, and sex with him is
amazing. But it's stupid of me to cross that line when I'm not able to
get naked with him. And I know I'm not ready for that kind of
exposure. I can't possibly open myself up to Zack when it'll most
certainly end with his rejection.
It's still bizarre how just last week I was watching his Thursday night
away game against Atlanta at home alone,

secretly crushing on Zack, and since then we've dated and have even
been intimate.
"So," Rachel drawls, then pops a nacho chip dripping with cheese into
her mouth. Mmm, I think I need to get me some of those. "How are
things with you and Zack?"
I swear it's like my friends can read my thoughts, or they just couldn't
wait any longer to ask.
"Good," I say quickly.
"How good?" Tracy asks, stealing one of Rachel's chips.
"Last night was our fourth date, so that's it for our agreement."
Was I disappointed it was over? Of course. But last night was all the
reminder I needed that this could never work between us. I couldn't
ever be intimate with Zack in the ways he wants. And since I wouldn't
be enough in the bedroom he'd move on to someone else. That's what
he's known for.
"Did you fuck him?" Amanda blurts out, right to the point.
"I'm not discussing that with you, and definitely not here," I scoff, and
feel my face flame.
"You did!" she yells.
"Shh, Amanda," I tell her as I glance around at the other fans, many of
which are wearing Zack's number fourteen jersey. "Other people can
hear you."

"Then tell us quietly," Rachel insists. "Come on. You're living every
woman's dream."
Except his ex who I'm not completely convinced he's over. Not that it
matters since we're over.
"We all saw the pictures of you kissing at the charity concert and at
the Comedy Zone," Tracy adds.
"And at Carowind's," Amanda throws in.
I shake my head. "Let your dirty imaginations think what they will.
There's nothing going on. We had a deal and it's over."
"Whatever you say. I say, you're a very lucky woman," Rachel tells
me, and Tracy and Amanda nod their agreement.
By the second quarter of the game my voice is already wearing out
from cheering. The Wildcats are finally on our end of the field in the
red zone, hopefully getting ready to score, I explain to my friends.
On first and goal, Zack fakes the handoff to Marcus Jones, my
favorite running back, and keeps the ball to easily run it in untouched
for a touchdown. The crowd is instantly on their feet and cheering
with the Wildcats going up by ten points as soon as they kick the
extra point.
Watching the replay on the jumbotron, I smile even wider thinking
about how similar the play had been to the one in the UNC v. VT
game when Zack and I kissed four years ago. I'm so distracted by the
memory that I don't even notice when Zack heads for our section, not
until Amanda

elbows me. Zack leaps up and sits there, balancing just his ass on the
high wall, and holds out the football he was carrying when he scored.
"This one's for you, baby," he says with a big smile behind his helmet
as he waits for me to accept it. A rippling "Aw" sweeps over the
stadium like when the crowd does the wave. As soon as my hands
wrap around the offered pigskin, Zack is jumping down to head back
to the sidelines, high fiving and chest bumping his fellow teammates
in celebration.
I retake my seat, still in a state of shock. He just made a very public
display, which would no doubt raise more press on our relationship. It
was sweet and...surprising. Was it possible Zack Bradford wants more
with me? Was he capable of changing his womanizing ways? And
even if such an unlikely miracle was to occur, am I actually ready and
willing to take things further?
"Oh. My. God," Tracy says like she's about to hyperventilate.
"That was so freaking awesome!" Rachel exclaims.
A few of the fans around us also make comments to me about his
gesture. How uncharacteristic it was for him to do something so sweet
in front of the whole stadium and his teammates. The jumbotron
replays his hand off to me several times, but finally the game goes on
and the focus thankfully shifts away from me and Zack.
A few hours later I've almost lost my voice when the

Wildcats win, twenty to fourteen. After shaking hands with all the
Giants, I watch as Zack heads over to our section and pulls himself up
and over the wall without his helmet on this time.
"Hey, ladies," he says, smiling in the way that could cause women to
faint.
"Congrats on the win," I tell him as all the fans around us shout
similar things to him and high five him. His eyes stay on mine,
though.
"Thanks, although I credit it to you," he says, before he actually
sweeps me off my feet and then sits down with me on his lap. He's
still in his uniform and pads, smelling like the warm sun, freshly cut
grass, and masculine sweat. For some reason the combination turns
me on like you wouldn't believe. "Now, our agreement was that you
have to let me sign your jersey. Or my jersey rather, and you can't
auction
it."
"I-I don't have a pen," I say, still surprised by his attention.
"Don't worry. I'm arrogant enough to keep one on me," he says, then
one magically appears in his hand.
After uncapping the permanent black marker with his teeth, he poises
his hand over my stomach to write. His hand is almost too close for
comfort to where my breasts would be if I had any hidden underneath
my padded bra. Before I can panic, he's thankfully done. I pull the
shirt out to read it. He wrote, " M y Lucky Charm," in the white
number

one and then signed his name in the four.
"So, can I see you tonight?" he asks as he signs and then palms the
football he'd gifted me with during the game.
This is it, time to put an end to what can never be if I want to come
out of this in one piece. f it's the right thing to do, then why does it
hurt so much? I nevertheless push through the ache and say what
needs to be said. "Yesterday was our fourth date," I remind him.
"I know, but I thought you said we could renegotiate," he says with a
smile.
I have to lower my eyes because I can't bear to look at him or I'll
chicken out. "Zack, I had a lot of fun on our dates, but from now on...I
don't want to lead you on. I can't offer anything more, but I really do
hope we can still be friends." The pain in my chest is agonizing,
especially when I look up and see what looks like genuine hurt cross
his gorgeous face. Just as quickly the hurt is replaced with anger.
"Friends?" he asks tersely with a clenched jaw. "You wanted to be a
helluva lot more than friends when we were fucking Friday night and
you were getting off yesterday morning."
I glance around to see if anyone else heard his comment, but other
than my three friends standing a foot away from us, I think the remark
goes unnoticed by the other fans.
"I'm sorry," I say as I search for an excuse other than

wanting him so bad I can't stand to be around him. "I'd had one too
many drinks-"
"Bullshit, Natalie! You weren't drunk Friday and you didn't have
anything to drink yesterday, so don't even try to use that fucking
excuse," he snaps as he sits my feet down and then stands up, seeming
to tower over me more than usual in his shoulder pads.
"I...I don't know what else to say," I tell him, and for a few seconds he
searches my eyes like he's looking for answers.
"I saw the photo," he snaps caustically. "You know, the big canvas
one of us in the center of your wall? I'm gonna take a wild guess and
say that it's been there longer than we've been seeing each other. So
then, what's your problem, Natalie? After all this time did the real
thing just not live up to the fantasy?" A slap in the face wouldn't have
stung as much as his words.
Zack had barely been in my apartment those two or three times, so
when did he see the picture of us? The sudden vulnerability caused by
him knowing that I've been pining away for him for four years makes
me instantly defensive. f I want to end things, there's definitely one
way to do it. All it will take is just three little words to ensure that I
never see the man in front of me again.
"No, it didn't," I finally answer his question. My throat burns with the
threat of tears when he flinches at my hurtful and untrue words. Being
with him is even better than the

fantasy.
"At least now you know. But a deal's a deal so I guess I'll see you at
the photoshoot," he mutters.
In the blink of an eye Zack hurdles back over the stadium wall and
walks across the field, out of my life. Thankfully he never once
looked back or he might've seen the tears running down my cheeks.
Zack
After the game, I stupidly let Jake and a few other teammates
convince me to go out with them to celebrate our first win of the
season. Hell, I needed something to take my mind off of Natalie's
brutal insult. I still can't believe I've been rejected.
Again.
First Lacy dumps me and moves on like our year together meant
nothing at all to her, and now Natalie just wants to be friends. How
the fuck can I be her friend when I can't resist putting my hands on
her. Not to mention the fact that my ego refuses to be reduced to
chasing after a woman that's made it clear she doesn't want me. And
thinks I'm a shitty lover.
But that right there is the confusing part I can't figure

out. I know Natalie wants me, at least physically. Last night I hadn't
imagined her desperation to fuck or the orgasms she had all the times
we were together. Something had made her go from hot and ready to
suddenly shutting down. Did I do something or say something that
pissed her off? I played the whole damn thing over and over in my
mind trying to figure it out.
"I am so fucking horny I'd probably come in my pants if a woman
looks at my zipper," Jake complains from beside me at the bar.
"Mm-hm." I nod my agreement, my mind still on Natalie. "That's too
damn bad unless you want to flip burgers for a living just for a little
pussy. Although, I'd almost bet it'll be a lot harder for you to get said
pussy when you're not making millions a year."
"Damn Jerry!" Jake curses. "And Addison is so fucking frosty it'd
take a blowtorch to unthaw that bitch. I'm paying her a hundred grand
to pretend to be my girlfriend, and the woman won't go near my dick
with a ten foot pole. I actually had to sneak over here so she wouldn't
find out."
"Addison? Where'd you find her?" I ask.
"She's Satan's fucking daughter," he mutters.
I belly laugh so hard I almost fall off my stool. I'd shared with Jake
my nickname for our new attorney, Devon James, hired by Jerry after
he fired our own attorneys for us, and he'd taken to using the moniker
"Satan" too. The fact that Jake was now stuck with Satan's frigid bitch
daughter for

the next several weeks while he's forbidden from fucking any other
women was comical.
"It's not funny. My dick might fall off before I get someone to suck it
or ride it again. What about you? You look pretty damn grumpy to be
getting any ass from that sexy, little blonde you hired."
I really don't like hearing Jake call Natalie sexy, even if she is, and
I'm not going to correct his wrong assumption that I've paid her. He
didn't need to know I've started having feelings for her of all damn
things.
"So are you fucking her or not, because either way you know I'd
really like to hit that."
"I'm Zack motherfucking Bradford, of course I'm fucking her. And
no, I'm not going to share."
Just the idea of him laying a finger on her has my blood pressure
rising.
"You were going to let me fuck Lacy, so why can't I bang this chick
with you?"
"She's not a fucking slut and I'm not going to turn her into one just
because you're horny."
"Shit, you don't have to be a bastard about it. I'm just trying to get a
little relief. You know my game's off whenever I go too long without
blowing my load," he whines.
"Use your hand," I tell him, trying to calm myself down from the rage
caused by just the mention of him with Natalie. But hell, I knew what
he was referring to. Without

getting a few releases during the week I feel all angry and tense
during games. Looks like I'll be putting my hand to use, too. I know I
could try pursuing Natalie, but I've been there, done that. I have a
little dignity left and I'm not going to beg her to see me.
"This fucking sucks," Jake complains. I concur.
Not only am I pissed that Natalie's blown me off, but without any new
publicity of the two of us, I'm screwed. Not knowing what else to do,
I'll just have to lay low and hope for the best. Maybe I can try again to
convince Lacy to pretend we're back together. Yeah I'm sure her and
her new man will go for that.
Natalie
"How are you doing, Nat?" Rachel asks when she interrupts my
moping Monday afternoon.
"I'm great," I reply with as much peppiness as I can muster.
"Liar, but that's okay. I'm still going to give you this uplifting Oreo
shake," she says, sitting the tall cup with a plastic spoon sticking out
on top of my desk. Right next to the football signed by Zack Bradford
after his touchdown. I've entered it into the auction but can't part with
it just yet.
"Thanks," I tell her.
"You want to talk about it?" she asks, taking the seat in front of my
desk. The same one that a super sexy

quarterback just occupied a few days ago.
I sigh, needing someone to talk to.
"I miss him," I admit before burying my head in my folded arms.
"Isn't that stupid?"
I can't stop thinking about being wrapped in his strong arms, kissing
his pouty lips, or seeing that cocky grin on his gorgeous face. After
spending the whole day with him Saturday I grew even more attached
to his playful personality. He made me laugh and feel carefree. With
him I was truly happy for the first time in my life.
"Of course you miss him, you'd be stupid if you didn't," Rachel
replies. "Although, I have to say that you're stupid because it looked
like you're the one that ended things, correct?"
I raise my head and nod in the affirmative. "How could I let things go
that far and expose myself to someone as perfect as him?"
"Yesterday it sounded like he eluded to the idea that the two of you
had already..."
"We did," I admit, grabbing my shake and shoveling a heaping spoon
full of Oreos and vanilla ice cream into my mouth.
Rachel remains silent, waiting for me to tell her more, so eventually I
do. "Friday night in his car, and then Saturday morning when he came
to pick me up."
"Come on, you know you've got to give me more than

that, you little hussy."
"Fine," I grumble. "Friday night I straddled him in the front seat of his
car. And you know how I told you that Wednesday night he'd figured
out I was the cheerleader he kissed in college?"
"Uh-huh."
"So yeah, he asked if I still had my uniform. Saturday morning I
opened the door wearing it and he quickly found out that I wasn't
wearing anything underneath my skirt."
"So you had sex with Zack Bradford, not once but twice, and you
didn't get to see him naked on either occasion?"
I nod and spoon another mouthful of cookie shake into my mouth.
"I amend my earlier statement. You're not stupid, you're a fucking
idiot."
I suck in a breath and nearly choke on my ice cream after her rarely
heard curse. "Rachel!"
"Natalie, I know you're insecure about the surgical scars, but at some
point you're going to have to expose yourself to a man. Unless you
plan on getting reconstruction surgery? Or a few cats? Take up
knitting, maybe?"
"I know that, but whoever that man is, he's definitely not going to be
the Sexiest Man Alive," I reply.
"Why not?" she asks.
"I can't take his...rejection, or worse...him being

revolted."
"Nat, maybe you're underestimating him. You could just tell him in
advance, and see how he reacts. He may surprise you."
I shake my head in disagreement. There is absolutely no way I can
expose myself to hi m that way. Look what happened when he found
out about the photo of us I have hanging on my wall. Baring my scars,
makes me a hundred times more vulnerable that the picture, and he
sure as hell didn't waste any time throwing that back in my face to
hurt me.
"But you miss him?" I nod.
"Why don't you call him? Try dating him a little longer?" she asks
"I'm not calling him, and he hasn't called me, so we're done. I'm sure
he's already moved on." That thought makes my scarred chest feel
like it's being crushed.
"You'll see him at the photoshoot in a few weeks,
right?"
"Ugh. Unfortunately."
"Maybe you'll be ready to give in by then."
It would be nice to see him again. Without a shirt...Shit, no it
wouldn't. It'll only make it worse. "I'm sending you in my place," I tell
Rachel.
"Yes! I will gladly help photograph half-naked football

players."
"I need a hobby, something to keep me busy and my mind off of
him."
"Me, too. That son of a bitch Cain Brooks still hasn't called or texted
me. I know! How about we head to the gym tonight and burn off the
calories from these shakes with Zumba! They'll be tons of hot guys
there, too..."
"Okay, I could use some exercise," I agree. Famous. Last. Words.
"I'm going to kill you...for making me...do this," I warn Rachel as
sweat pours down my face and my thighs burn from overuse now, or
underuse every other day. I don't know, they just hurt.
"You'll feel so much better afterwards, though," she replies cheerfully.
I want to slap her.
"All right, ladies. One more time from the beginning!" the peppy
instructor says, and I want to choke that bitch.
Somehow I make it through and insist Rachel and I reward ourselves
with a dip in the gym's hot tub before showering and leaving. On the
way out the door I get blindsided by my best friend.
"Dr. Andrews!" Rachel exclaims when we step outside and pass a
young, brown-haired man. "How are you?" she asks.
The man looks too young to be a doctor, that's for sure.

And the way she hugs him makes me think she's flirting with him.
Then the tables turned.
"Oh, sorry. Let me introduce you two. Dr. Andrews, this is my best
friend Natalie Adair. Natalie, this is my friend from high school and
now my optometrist, Dr. Andrews."
The nice, conservative looking man holds out his hand for me to
shake. "Nice to meet you Natalie," he says, bright blue eyes sparkling
with a wide, perfect smile on his face. Not the least bit cocky like
another man's smile I know.
"You too," I reply politely.
"If I remember correctly, you're a Wildcats fan, right, Doctor?"
Rachel asks, and the first of the warning bells start going off.
"Rachel, I've told you before, please just call me Blake. And yes, of
course I'm a Wildcats fan. I live in Charlotte,
right?"
Blake is a cute name for a cute guy. He's buff, evidence that unlike
me, today is not his first time at the gym in months. He's probably
about six feet tall, and is dressed in black nylon shorts and an
Avengers t-shirt. He's pretty adorable but nowhere near as sizzling hot
as another man I recently met.. .Damn it! I have got to stop thinking
about him.
"Well, something came up and I can't make the game Sunday with
Natalie. You wouldn't want to go in my place would you?" Rachel,
the manipulator, asks, making my jaw drop. She could've warned me,
or better yet, asked me

first.
"Are you kidding? That would be awesome!" Blake exclaims.
"Great!" Rachel carries on the conversation like my eyes aren't
shooting daggers at her at the moment. "Natalie is a breast cancer
survivor and she's been selected for the special halftime program for
breast cancer awareness month."
My face catches on fire as the man turns to me and his eyebrows
shoot to the sky. That's it. I'm going to have to kick my friend's ass.
"Wow. That's incredible, Natalie," the good doctor replies. "You're so
young, and... I can't even imagine how difficult that must've been for
you. Glad you were able to beat it."
I look at Rachel and the evil woman actually winks at me after
throwing me under the bus with a man I don't know. To top it off, I
look like shit standing here with no makeup on and my wet hair in a
ponytail after my shower. What a great first impression I must be
making.
"Thanks," I finally reply, unable to form any words, other than threats
on my best friend's life.
"Maybe we should all exchange numbers, so we can coordinate for
Sunday," the traitor suggests, practically bouncing up and down in
place on the sidewalk.
"Sure, of course," Blake agrees, pulling out his cell phone.

And so it begins, the most embarrassing ambush of all time.

Chapter Ten
Zack
I can't believe I'm actually here. After debating it all week, and talking
myself out of it multiple times, it's Friday night and I'm now sitting in
the parking lot outside of Natalie's apartment. My hesitation to get out
of the car turns out to save my ego and what's left of my dignity.
Night is just setting in, but even with the darkness I can clearly make
out Natalie coming down the stairs with another fucking man. It feels
like I've been kicked in the nuts and the gut at the same time.
I watch as they approach an SUV of some sort. When he opens the
passenger door and holds it for her, I go from pissed to an angry
maniac.
Friends my ass! He sure as hell doesn't look like just her "friend." She
blew me off for someone else? What the fuck?
This is maybe the worst moment of my life, well, other than Jerry's
meeting. It's even worse than finding Lacy with another guy at the
club. At least I'd given Lacy a reason to hate me and leave me. I'd
gone out of my way to try and impress Natalie, the only damn woman
I've ever tried to

impress, and she couldn't care less!
I need to fight or fuck. Hit someone or get off.
Goddamn Jerry! If it wasn't for him I never would've asked out the
stubborn woman I'm currently a mess over. Now I'm shit out of luck,
unable to find a woman to screw on the off chance it'd get back to
Satan. Fucking Satan! I hate that bastard, too. Then an evil idea
suddenly comes to me.
I crank the car and head for the highway, deciding to pay a visit to my
buddy Jake. My decision firms up as I drive, and I'm relieved to find
his car is in the driveway outside of his house. Next to his vehicle is a
girly looking red convertible.
Perfect.
I ring the doorbell and wait, listening to the yelling on the other side. I
can't exactly tell what's being said, just that it's definitely antagonistic.
"What's up?" Jake asks when he pulls the door open, gripping it like
he's mad enough to yank it off the hinges.
"Not a damn thing. You busy?" I ask.
"Fuck no. Unless you consider getting yelled out by a batshit crazy
cunt about changing the roll of toilet paper busy," he yells, I assume
for the woman, Addison, to hear him. Here's hoping she's a Zack
Bradford fan.
"I heard that, you asshole!" comes bellowing from within the house.
Jake sighs and holds the door open. "Come in and

meet the bitch. She's so fucking sweet it hurts," he says sarcastically.
I walk through the foyer into the living room expecting to find Satan's
slimy, bitchy, mini-me, not a hot ass, pin-up beauty. With her jet
black hair, fair skin, and pouty red lips, she looks like a wet dream
from the set of a nineteen forties movie. She's even wearing a tight,
curve-hugging, white dress like she just walked off a set.
"Holy shit!" she exclaims, scrambling to her feet that are in pair of
sexy white fuck-me heels. "You didn't tell me Zack Bradford was
coming over, honey. I would've put on something nice."
Great, so she is a fan. That should make this easier.
"Oh baby, the only thing nicer than what you're wearing right now
would be nothing at all," I tell her with a cocky grin. Her face flushes
and those red lips part on a gasp.
"Good fucking luck," Jake snorts when he crashes into a chair, rapidly
flipping channels on the TV. "She's colder than ice, man. And quit the
act, bitch. He knows you're paid to be here."
The woman's big amber eyes narrow at the back of Jake's head before
she turns them to me again.
"Addison, right?" I ask, holding out my hand.
"Sure am. It's really nice to meet you. I'm a huge fan," she says and
Jake scoffs loudly. At the same time I think fuck yes, the stupid
thought that she probably isn't as big a

fan as Natalie comes out of nowhere and hits me. Goddamn that
woman.
"It's nice to meet you too. Really nice," I say, giving her another
sweeping head to toe look.
"Can I get you anything? Maybe a drink?" she asks, biting her plump
bottom lip seductively.
"Rum and coke?" I ask.
"Coming right up," she says, heavy on the entendre. Too bad it isn't
having any effect on my dick.
I follow her into the kitchen anyway, watching her move around like
she's familiar with where everything is. Guess she's staying here,
spying on Jake for Satan and Jerry.
A minute later she brings me a full liquor glass, standing in my
personal space closer than is normally polite. "Wow, you're
really...big," she says.
"You ain't seen nothing yet, baby," I reply, and the flirty words burn
my throat on the way out.
"Is that right?"
I sip my drink to cool the sting while watching her, swallowing hard
to try and keep the liquid down. My mind keeps flashing back to the
image of Natalie and another man leaving her place. Would she ride
his cock in the front seat of his SUV? Ask him to come up to her
apartment and let him fuck her? I clench and unclench my fist. I need
a distraction and the perfect one is standing eager and ready, right in
front of me. So why does it feel wrong?

Because I've become a pussy, that's why.
"Lead the way and I'll be glad to show you," I tell Addison, sitting my
empty glass down on the island counter.
The sassy, pin-up girl's eyes fill with lust as she walks by me,
brushing her curves against the front of my body on the way down the
hall. She stops and enters one of the bedrooms, hers I'd guess by the
look of all the girly shit sitting around. Crawling up on the bed with
her dress and shoes still on she's ready to go.
I reach for her foot and pull her heel off. "You should get
comfortable. We might be here awhile," I tell her and she smiles.
Once her other shoe is tossed I pull my shirt over my head and then
start on my belt buckle. f Addison's having regrets or second thoughts
they don't show on her beautiful face. Desire is all that I see staring
back at me.
I strip down to my boxers, leaving them on since my dick hasn't
decided to come out and play just yet. Son of a bitch.
I climb onto the bed and lay down beside her, then my work is done.
Addison, who I'd just met less than ten minutes earlier, straddles my
hips and rubs her hands over my chest and stomach before her mouth
comes down to mine.
Panic threatens to choke me when I start wondering if

Natalie is kissing some asshole, or if she's in her bed riding him this
way. Why do I fucking care? We were just temporary, a means to an
end to make Jerry happy so I could keep my contract. She's not mine
and doesn't want to be. I remind myself that she's no different than all
the other countless women I've fucked over the years and don't give a
shit about.
But that's a fucking lie.
I miss her.
This is about the time I realize Addison's mouth is migrating south
and there's still no response from my dick. Great, I can't even fuck the
one person I could get away with fucking.
I don't actually want to fuck this beautiful girl which is...concerning to
say the least.
Rather than embarrass myself when she notices I'm not aroused, I
decide to stop being so fucking selfish. I flip our positions, so that I'm
on top and in control. My hands push the short dress up her thighs
until her white thong is revealed, then I yank the lacy string down her
legs and off of her.
As soon as my tongue touches her clit she screams my name, but it's a
hollow sound. All I can think about is that she doesn't taste like
Natalie. I can't stop thinking about that woman's goddamn cupcakes.
"What the fuck?" Jake exclaims from the doorway that Addison hadn't
bothered asking me to close.

Huh, I guess she's an exhibitionist, or she wanted him to see what
we're doing. Was she trying to make him jealous? Using me like I'm
using her? Well, hell, that made me feel a little better, and like her a
little more.
Even though Jake's probably still watching, I don't let up with my
tongue fucking until Addison's body shakes with her release. f my
dick was cooperating I'd probably start fucking her, but it isn't.
Instead, I flop down on the mattress beside the woman who's still
trying to recover. Her arms are thrown above her head and her
glistening pussy is still exposed.
Glancing back to the door, Jake is standing there looking shocked,
turned on, and...pissed? Was he jealous? Maybe her plan worked after
all. I've always heard there's a thin line between love and hate, and
these two clearly hate each other.
"You're wrong about her being a frigid bitch, Jake. Her pussy is so
damn hot, I think she burned my tongue," I taunt him.
"Fuck you," he says, his eyes never leaving Addison's exposed lower
body. When he licks his lips I'm almost certain he'd give anything to
get between her legs.
A few seconds later Addison rolls on top of me and starts working her
way back down my body. Shit. On her hands and knees hovering
above my hips she pulls my cock out and tries to inflate it with her
mouth.
When it doesn't work, Jake laughs and moves closer to

the bed, probably to get a better view of her still bare ass that's raised
in the air. "Sorry, sweetheart, but it looks like you're shit out of luck.
His cock's broken."
"Take your peeping Tom ass out of here," Addison says to him.
"Maybe he doesn't like having an asshole audience."
"Oh, darling, you have no idea how many women we've watched each
other fuck, and fucked at the same time," Jake tells her. "He just
doesn't want you."
Holy shit that was cold, even for a man I already knew was soulless.
At least he left after that parting comment, so I could try to do damage
control.
"Addison, he's full of shit," I tell her. After tucking my limp cock
away in my boxer briefs I can't help but tug on a handful of my own
hair in frustration. "You're a beautiful woman, and L.he's right about
my cock being broken. I just can't get out of my own head... "
"Is it that blonde woman? The one you've been seen making out with
everywhere?" she asks, climbing up the bed to lay on her stomach
next to me. Great, we're going to have a nice girl chat. Maybe that's
what I need, a woman to tell me what the fuck is going on with
Natalie.
"The stubborn woman refused to date me, so I pursued her until I
convinced her, or basically bribed her to go on a handful of dates with
me. Then she fucks me a few times before suddenly kicking me out of
her apartment. Oh, and after that I got the whole, 'let's just be friends'
spiel. Just

now, I gave in to my better judgment and went by her place and saw
her leaving on a date with some asshole!"
"Wow. What's wrong with her?" she asks seriously. "Oh I know, she's
blind, right?"
I scrub my face with my hands. "No, she's not blind."
"Mentally incompetent?"
"Nope."
"Then I have no fucking clue. Except..." she starts and then hesitates.
I look over to see her biting that damn lip again.
"What?"
"You are known for being a player. Maybe she just doesn't want to be
played."
"I thought I went out of my way to show her I wasn't trying to play
her." Well, I am playing her, but in a way she doesn't know, which is
to keep my contract.
"Sorry, but I have no further advice, and I'm a freaking expert.
Psychiatrist," she explains, pointing to herself.
"I bet Jake keeps you busy with all his psychotic bullshit." I chuckle,
even though my chest is aching like never before.
"You have no idea. I'm starting to think the man might just be pure
evil."
"And yet your dad got you to agree to live with him and date him for
several weeks?"

"I'm using the money he's paying me to start my own practice and get
a little publicity. He needed a non-slut. You're not going to.. .tell
anyone about this, are you?" she asks hesitantly.
"Hell no. I hope you'll keep my problems to yourself,
too."
"Of course, doctor-patient confidentiality," she says with a smile.
"Too bad they didn't hook me up to be your fake girlfriend."
"Yeah," I reply, but it's a complete lie. I don't want anyone to be my
girlfriend, real or fake, except for Natalie.

Chapter Eleven
Natalie
My dates with Blake have turned out to be more fun than I imagined.
I wasn't even pissed at Rachel anymore.
The man knows about my past with cancer and still seems interested
in me. Even though he is a very fine looking man, smart, funny,
successful, and the list could go on and on, I wasn't feeling anything
more than friendly toward him. Wasn't that ironic. I told the man who
I want so bad it hurts that I just want to be friends, and the guy that I
should want I don't feel anything romantic for.
"These are great seats," Blake says after we settle in at the stadium.
We were lower level, but sitting near the top.
"Yeah, they are pretty sweet, although last week we were on the front
row between those goal posts," I tell him, pointing over to the section.
"No shit? I bet that was amazing!" he exclaims, making me smile
since he sounds more excited than a little boy.
I look out onto the field where the team is warming up. My eyes
automatically search out number fourteen. He's tossing passes back
and forth with his backup in the middle of the field. Every so often his
eyes flit around the stadium like he's looking for someone.
Stop /t! I order my stupid heart. It's so desperate for him

it's starting to make up shit like him looking for me in a stadium full
of thousands of people.
"You a big Bradford fan?" Blake asks, and it takes me a minute to
recover after I realize I'm wearing his jersey, in pink for the breast
cancer awareness halftime event. That's where Blake's question had
come from, not my blatant
ogling.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. It's sort of a love, hate relationship,
though."
"I know what you mean. After the first three games this season I was
so freaking pissed at him for all the interceptions and letting himself
get sacked. But then he came through last week with that rushing
touchdown and twenty out of twenty-four completed passes."
"Exactly," I say, even though my feelings have nothing to do with his
skills on the field. I'm pissed at him for not calling me, which is dumb
since I'm the one who blew him off. I loved spending time with him,
but then I ruined everything. I know I'm better off, though. It would've
eventually ended badly and I'd hurt even more than I do right now.
Zack

I feel like absolute shit. All I think about is Natalie. I miss her so
fucking much, and still don't understand why she pushed me away.
I'm also worried about what our split means for my job. Nothing has
been said yet, but I know it's coming. Still, all week I wasn't willing to
put my pride aside and just call her, not after seeing her with someone
else.
During warm ups I looked around the stadium, remembering Bill
mentioning that Natalie was coming to today's game. There were
some breast cancer events pregame and during halftime, so I figure
she's here helping out with both, and promoting the online auction for
the foundation. My search was fruitless though, since the stadium is
too big and filled with fans.
Luckily after kickoff our defense was able to get two turnovers,
making my job easier in the first half. We were up by fourteen by
halftime.
I walk back out onto the field a few minutes early before the second
half starts to try and see her. And there she is.
Natalie's standing in the middle of the field wearing a pink jersey, my
pink jersey, with a group of women. Their close-ups appear on the
jumbotron, along with the caption, "Breast Cancer Survivors."
No, that's impossible. She can't be, she's too young. I'm sure that
Natalie's just out there for work. But then when the man on the field
presents her with a bouquet of flowers like the ones the other women
are holding, it feels like my world

turns upside down. Natalie survived cancer? The woman I just met
and can't stop thinking about? When was she sick and why didn't she
tell me?
Oh no.
This is why. Why she wouldn't let me touch her above the waist. Why
she pushed me away. She'd been too...embarrassed, or scared to tell
me. She's probably afraid of what I'd say or what I'd think about her
losing one or even both her breasts to cancer. God, did she think I was
that shallow? Every inch of that woman is incredible, and there's
nothing that could ever change my mind about that.
I don't even realize I'm moving until I'm so close that Natalie looks
over and meets my gaze. Even then I can't stop my feet. I head
straight for her, and without a word, toss my helmet and wrap her in
my arms. My mouth covers her delicious, vanilla lips and I swallow
her gasp of surprise. Her arms are around my neck and holding on to
me the next second. I feel wetness on my face and I don't know if it's
my tears or hers. Maybe a mixture of both.
Knowing what she's been through only makes me want her more. Not
just want her, but need her. The thought of her becoming ill and not
catching it in time has me in a panic. I can't imagine not having her in
my life now that I've been given a second chance with her. I was an
idiot not to chase her in college, and I sure as hell won't make the
same mistake twice.
I don't care if she's seeing someone else. He better get

ready because I'm going to put up a goddamn fight before I let her
push me away again.
I kiss Natalie hard, pouring how I feel about her into it. How I've
missed her. How I want her regardless of what insecurities she might
have. When we finally pull apart I use my thumbs to wipe the
moisture away from her cheeks.
"Is this the real reason?" I ask her and she nods, looking away while
covering her quivering bottom lip with the back of her hand.
"I'm not a shitty lover and you want to be more than 'just
friends'?" I ask.
She gives me a tearful smile and nods. "So I am a shitty lover?"
"No, of course not," she says, finally raising her misty, jade eyes back
to mine. "The real thing is even better than the fantasy."
"Good," I say in an exhale. "Because being with you is...incredible.
There's nothing like it. So jusL.please give me a real chance, Natalie,"
I plead with her. After a few seconds she gives me a small nod and
then we're being ushered off the field for the second half. "I'll see you
after the game," I tell her with one last quick kiss.
I grab my helmet from where I'd abandoned it and make my way to
the sideline. I watch as Natalie heads for the stands, so I'll know
where to find her after the game. Section one-twenty-two.

I still can't wrap my head around this revelation. The beautiful, sweet
woman I'm falling for could've lost her life to cancer. Oh fuck, what if
it comes back? sn't that more likely if she's had it once before? What
if she gets sick again? What if it's worse and she...I can't imagine a
world without her in it. She's just too young and too vibrant. I need
her too much to lose her. The panic overwhelming me is like nothing
I've ever felt before.
Now I saw her job at the breast cancer center in a different way. Why
my being late had upset her personally the other day, because she
thought I didn't take her cause seriously. A cause that helps save the
lives of women just like her.
God, I'm such a fool. An arrogant, self-absorbed prick.
"You all right?" my teammate Jonathan asks.
"Natalie had breast cancer." Just saying those words make me sick to
my stomach.
"The knockout from the breast cancer auction?" he asks. I don't care
much for his compliment, even if it's true.
"Yeah. We've been seeing each other, and she.. .she didn't tell me."
"It's a scary thing. I lost my grandma to breast cancer," he says.
"I'm sorry, man."
"Bradford! Get your ass in gear," the quarterback coach yells at me. I
needed to get in a few throws because

the second half kicked off and now I've completely missed
it.
In that moment, and for the first time in my life, football suddenly
seemed.. .trivial.
The Wildcats won, of course. Our lucky charm was sitting in the
stadium. I'd played the best game of my NFL career, with thirty-five
of thirty-eight completed passes, three hundred and sixty passing
yards, two passing touchdowns, and forty yards rushing.
As soon as I finish shaking hands with the players on the losing team,
the San Diego Sharks, I head for section one-twenty-two. I hurdle
over the stadium wall and start searching for Natalie. It isn't easy with
all the fans talking to me and heading for me, but a gravitational type
pull leads my eyes right up to where she's standing at the top of the
crowded section. I jog up the steps to catch her before she leaves the
stadium.
Natalie does a double take when she sees me, then stops so abruptly
the man behind her runs into her backside. His hands come up around
her waist like they're not strangers. Fuck. I didn't even think about her
being here with him!
"Holy shit, it's Zack Bradford!" her man says. Great, he's a fan. Whyd
that make me hate him even more?
"Hey," I say when I'm standing in front of her.
"Hey," she says, then licks her lips, making me want to

do the same. Screw it, she let me kiss her on the field, and had
definitely reciprocated.
I reach down and pick her up, grabbing her incredible ass and
dragging her body up against mine that's still covered with pads. At
the same time, my lips cover hers. Her gasp of surprise turns into a
moan, and then her legs are up and locking around my hips. That and
her tongue gliding over mine, tell me all I need to know, she doesn't
give a shit about the other guy.
Natalie's arms circle my neck before her hands begin combing
through the back of my sweaty hair. I need a shower and to get rid of
the pads and uniform. I need to feel her body against mine. Point
made, a few minutes later I finally sit Natalie's feet back on the
ground.
"So, I take it you two know each other?" the guy with her asks. Where
the hell was he during halftime?
"He missed halftime...waiting in line for the bathroom," Natalie shyly
answers my unspoken question, still out of breath from our kiss.
"Why? What'd I miss?" he asks.
"Natalie regrets to inform you that she just wants to be friends," I tell
him with my arms still around her.
"Zack!" she says, slapping my pad covered chest.
"Am I wrong?" I ask, looking down into her beautiful jade eyes.
"Well.no, but you don't have to be such an ass."

"I wasn't being an ass, I was just being honest. Am I being an ass?" I
ask the other man who seems happy enough, despite the news that
Natalie's taken.
"No, and I'm so sorry. She never said she was seeing you or I wouldn't
have."
"We weren't seeing each other," Natalie interrupts. "But we might be
in the future."
"Might?" I ask. "You've got to do better than that, baby."
"Okay, we'll probably be seeing each other."
"Tonight," I interject. "I'll come by your place as soon as I can get a
shower and get out of here."
Natalie looks away, but not before I see the insecurity and
nervousness on her face. She finally gives me a nod of agreement.
Now that I know I definitely won't rush her into anything she's not
ready for.
I tug on the sides of her pink jersey and pull her closer to me. "Thank
you for wearing my jersey," I tell her, leaning down to brush my lips
against hers.
"I didn't have anything else to wear," she replies with a smile.
"Bullshit." I laugh.
I give her another kiss, then finally let her go, heading to the locker
room.
I shower and change quicker than ever, so I can get to Natalie's as
soon as possible.
Coach Wilkes catches me just before I make to the

door.
"Bradford. Upstairs called. You're expected at the press conference."
Fuck. I don't want to do this to Natalie. She doesn't deserve to have
her illness dragged through the media, and definitely not to help me
keep my job by appeasing Jerry with good PR.
"Come on, let's go," Coach orders.
Goddamn it. I try and quickly think through everything on the way to
the press room. That's when I realize that I'm not the one who
convinced Natalie to appear on the field for the event today. She had
agreed to that before we ever met. So, if she was okay with a stadium
full of people knowing then what I'm about to do isn't that much
worse, right? I'm still an evil bastard.
"Can I go first and get it over with?" I ask my coach.
"Fine. But your love life better not fuck up this team," he says. Great,
so Coach is pissed because I'm following Jerry's order. Well, he could
get the hell over it since Jerry is the one that pays me.
I take my place at the podium in front of the line of mics, and the
questions all come at me at once. Nothing about the team or our win
today, which pisses me off, and I'm sure that's also why my coach is
pissed. I point to the first reporter at random to get this ordeal over
with.

"Zack, who was the woman you kissed at halftime?" the lady asks.
"My girlfriend, Natalie Adair." She wasn't technically my girlfriend,
but I hope that's about to change.
"Girlfriend?" The word, along with gasps ripple through the group.
I'm sure it's a surprise since this is the first time I've admitted to
seeing someone since my official split with Lacy.
"The same woman you were with at the children's hospital concert?"
another female reporter asks.
"Yes."
"How long have you been seeing each other?" "Just a few weeks."
"Did you know she was a breast cancer survivor?" a man asks.
I hang my head from the weight of my guilt, knowing where this is
about to go. "No. I didn't know until I came back after halftime and I
saw her standing in the middle of
the field."
"Is this the same woman you gave the football to last Sunday?"
"Yes."
"You said you just met, so is it a coincidence that she looks similar to
the woman you kissed in college at the Virginia Tech game?" one of
the sharper reporters asks. I can't help but smile at the memory, and I
have to give him

props for being so astute.
"That was her, but we never dated in college or even talked after that
game. Somehow I've lucked up and thankfully she's back in my life.
We met when she was here at the stadium working on the
merchandise for the breast cancer auction, and we've been seeing each
other ever since."
Natalie
Zack knocks on my door a few hours after his game. The game where
he realized I survived cancer. I had hoped that we would get through
the halftime presentation before he came out of the locker room, but I
wasn't that lucky. Then he kissed me.
"Hey," I say when I open the door.
"Hey. I've missed you," he says, his arms wrapping around me, his
words making me melt into his warm chest. The smell of his soap is
nice, but I think I like the right off the field, sweaty Zack better.
There's something so primal about the warm scent of his physical
exertion mixed with the smell of grass that makes we wish he'd have
his dirty way with me right there on the field. Regardless, I'm just
ecstatic to see him.
"I've missed you too," I finally admit.

"Natalie, why didn't you just tell me?" he asks, when he finally pulls
back to look at me.
"It's not easy to tell someone I'm missing pertinent feminine parts. A
part men desire, and one that's such a huge part of sex."
"Not that part. I don't care about that. I'm talking about the fact that
you had cancer, and now you're here, alive and healthy. There's
nothing more important than that, baby. Thinking about anything
else...God, Natalie. You have no idea how much that hurts." His arms
are instantly around me again, holding me tightly.
"You want to watch the afternoon game?" I ask his broad chest, not
willing to talk about cancer anymore.
"Sure, we can do whatever you want."
I lead Zack over to the couch and pick up the remote to turn the
volume up on the Saints and Seahawks game. Cuddling on the couch
together, God it's so nice to be back in his arms.
"Taking notes?" I ask after we sit in companionable silence watching
the television for a while.
"A few," he says with a quick kiss to my cheek. "We've got the Saints
again in week twelve and the Seahawks in week fifteen."
"Tough teams. Top defenses," I respond. "The Saints blitz too often
so they can't stop the run. The Seahawks' defense is shit on the
secondary with their veteran strong

safety injured and out for the season, so you'll probably be able to
throw deep on his side and catch the newbie off-guard."
Zack gives a raspy laugh and the deep rumble vibrates through my
body. "Damn woman. You really do know
football."
"Yeah, I watched with my dad growing up and I was a cheerleader
through high school and two years in college, so of course I know
football."
"Ha! Our cheerleaders haven't figured out more than timeouts and
halftime."
"Seriously?" I ask.
"Yes. The fact that you actually understand the game blows my mind.
Women lie and tell me they're huge football fans all the time to fuck
me, but they're usually just full of
shit."
"I'm no expert, but I do know more about you as a player than the fact
that you look good in your uniform. I know that you held the ball too
long in the first three games this season, which is why you got sacked
and pressured so often. You do better in the shotgun formation
because it gives you more time to find the best throw. You could rush
more yards if you wanted, but I have a feeling your coach nixed that
idea to keep you from getting hurt."
"Huh. You're pretty much spot on, baby. Shotgun more? That's
probably a good idea. You are seriously incredible, you know that?
How'd I luck up twice in this lifetime to find a

woman who's not only beautiful but smart, and knows her shit when it
comes to what I love more than anything in the
world?"
"What happened in college?" I ask, unable to help myself.
Zack rests his forehead against mine for a few seconds before he
answers. "I was stupid. I had a girlfriend but in that moment I forgot
all about her and jusL.needed to kiss you. When the video went viral
my girlfriend freaked out, said she was going to break up with me.
You know my arrogance, even then no one broke up with me. I was
Zack motherfucking Bradford, damn it. So I got her to forgive me
even though I wanted to find you, ask you out, and then fuck you. I
should've followed my gut and not my ego. I even looked for you at
the next few games, but you weren't
there."
"And now here we are four years later."
"And I don't want anyone else, Natalie. Let me stay and sleep with
you tonight. Nothing else until you're ready."
I agree and relax against his powerful warmth now that the pressure is
off. I'm still not ready to take that last step of being naked with him,
but I think I'm getting closer to trusting him.
The next morning the press was still going crazy. Video replays from
halftime are on all the news sites, along with the video from college.
Everyone had put the two events

together, and after Zack confirmed it was us, that's all they're talking
about.
After practice Zack came over with Mexican food, we ate and went to
bed, making out with all of our clothes on. It was the kind of making
out I haven't done since I was a teenager. The kind that goes on for
hours and ends with the flushed, heightened unfulfilled arousal, but
also with a kind of ridiculous giddiness. The feeling of knowing a boy
likes you so much that he can't stop kissing you, and knowing he
desperately wants to go further but he won't because you're not ready.
"Tell me about it, Natalie. I want to know what happened, and what
you went through," Zack says from above me.
Looking away from his milk chocolate eyes, I try to think about
where to begin. I'm getting ready to tell him about the urgent care
doctor who thankfully insisted on more testing instead of brushing the
lump off as a benign cyst, when it hits me like a bolt of lightning. I
can't believe I never thought about it before! But at the time,
everything happened so fast it was hard to even remember to breathe
the first few weeks.
"Actually, if it wasn't for you, they wouldn't have caught it so soon," I
tell him.
"Ah, what?" he asks with a confused furrowed brow.
"The day you knocked me down? When we got back to Chapel Hill
my cheerleading coach made me go get

checked out at an urgent care. My ribs were really sore so she wanted
me to get an x-ray to make sure I hadn't cracked one. I hadn't, they
were only bruised."
"Shit, I'm sorry," he says, blowing out a breath.
"No, now I'm really thankful that lineman pushed you into me. During
the exam of my ribs I mentioned just in passing that my gynecologist
had found a cyst in my right breast. The doctor felt it and said the
gynecologist was probably right, that with my age and clear family
history that it was likely a benign cyst. Just to be certain he scheduled
me for a sonogram the next Monday. All they would tell me at the
time was that it wasn't a cyst, so they referred me to a surgeon. The
surgeon assured me it was probably just a fibroadenoma, calcium and
fatty tissue. He went in and removed it anyway to send it to a lab to
make sure."
"And they told you it was cancer?"
"Yeah. I wasn't allowed to travel with the team to cheer during the
weekend's away game because of the bruised ribs. By the next week's
home game I'd received the news and started having more tests done.
It was stage II breast cancer. After that everything happened so fast. I
was still in denial when they scheduled me for surgery. Since I had
the BRCA1 mutated gene they suggested I go ahead with a double
mastectomy as a preventative measure, even though the cancer was
only in the mammary lymph nodes and four centimeter tumor in my
right breast. I agreed since I didn't want to have just one breast, or
take the chance of having to go through the whole ordeal again. I
decided not

to have reconstruction surgery, so now I just have the scars."
"Did you have to have chemotherapy, too?" he asks, gently pushing a
strand of hair behind my ear.
"Yeah, chemo for six months and radiation treatments for six weeks."
"Was your family there for you while you went through
all that?"
"Of course. I moved back in with my parents in Greensboro, and I
don't know what I would've done without them taking care of me. I
withdrew from all my friends from high school and college, even the
ones that tried to be supportive. I was pissed and...jealous that I was
being forced to battle cancer, barely able to get out of the bed some
days, while they were all partying and living life. It was just too hard
to hear about the guys they were dating or the petty argument they
had with their roommates when they ate all the Poptarts. I was bitter
and angry."
"You had a right to be. It couldn't have been easy to sit back and
watch everyone else's life go on while you were
sick."
"It felt like I was being punished for my vanity," I admit, blinking
back tears. "Thankfully my parents were able to put up with all my
mood swings. My mom has been a fifth grade teacher for twenty-five
years, so she had a lot of vacation time saved up. She took half a year
off to stay with me and take me to all my appointments. That was also
about the

time I started questioning the whole heredity issue. I mean, breast
cancer usually runs in families. Not a single other woman in our
family has had it. My grandma is still alive and well at eighty-four.
My mom and her sister have never had any irregular mammograms.
So why me at twenty-
one?"
"Huh. Did the doctor think that was strange?"
"He did. That's when my mom and dad finally told me I was
adopted."
"Whoa!" he says, shaking his head. "Like you didn't already have
enough to worry about. They'd kept it from you your whole life?"
"Uh-huh. And the strange thing is I never noticed. I mean, I actually
look like my mother, the same green eyes and light hair, except I'm
several inches shorter."
"Did they tell you anything about the adoption?"
"They'd been trying to have a baby for years before they contacted the
adoption agency. They were chosen by a teenage mother, my
biological mother. The day I was born, six weeks premature because
of her drinking, smoking, or whatever else, I went straight into my
parents' custody. When I was finally healthy enough, I went home
with them from the hospital. I mean, they had pictures of me when I
was born and when I was in the neonatal intensive care, so I never
even considered that I wasn't theirs."
"Wow, Natalie. How did you deal with all that?"
"I didn't really have a choice. I wasn't all that upset. I

knew my birth mother had done the right thing for me. My parents
loved me and cared for me when she knew she wouldn't be able to. I
understand their reasons for not telling me, too. They didn't want me
to think they loved me any less just because I wasn't theirs
biologically, so I couldn't be mad at them for that."
"I'm sorry you had to go through all that," he says, brushing his lips
over my cheek. "So, since I found out yesterday, there's something
I've been worried about. What's the chance of recurrence?"
"It's about sixteen percent during the first five years. My doctor said
probably less than that, maybe six percent or so since I had radiation
therapy," I tell him. "I found out I had cancer right around four years
ago, and I've been cancer free for a little over three years."
"Whew, that's not as bad as I thought it might be," Zack said letting
out his breath. "I was scared it was fifty percent or something
incredibly high, but those odds are good, really good."
"I may not be able to have kids," I blurt out. "I don't have breasts and
I may not be able to have any kids. I have to stay on hormone
blockers until I reach the five year mark, and then there's a thirty
percent chance my ovaries won't wake up. I'm a real catch."
"You are. Those things...one is only superficial, and the other, well,
there are lots of options, like adoption."
I try to blink the tears back before they fall down my

cheeks. "I want to have a baby. Not now of course, but in a few years.
I just...I want to hold my own baby, you know?"
"Actually I do know what you mean," Zack says, dropping his eyes
and hanging his head. "I might be a father in about four months."
"What?" I exclaim, grabbing the sides of his face to raise it so he'll
look at me. He might be a...
"You remember me telling you about Lacy, my ex-girlfriend? Well,
she's five months pregnant."
I can't help my gasp of surprise. There's also a sharp sting of jealousy
that he could have a baby with another woman when he might not
ever be able to do that with me. And whoa, I'm getting a little ahead
of myself. But going back to his statement...
"Wait, what do you mean 'might be a father'?"
"There's a twenty-five percent chance I'm the father of her baby."
I thought through that statement several times and it still didn't make
any sense to me. "I don't understand."
"I'm one of four potential fathers. Shit, that sounds bad," he says,
rubbing a hand through his hair. "Lacy...she's a lot like you actually,
only...younger and...wilder. She and her current boyfriend like to...ah,
share their bed. Not with me!" he says quickly when I must've looked
like I was freaking out. "I mean, I admit I've had threesomes but not
with them."
"Anyway," he continues and I try really hard not to think

about the threesome comment he just made. "Lacy had an argument
with her boyfriend and another guy she'd been sleeping with so she
moved here to Charlotte to get away from them. A few weeks later
her mom died suddenly. We sort of got back together temporarily
during that time until she made up with her boyfriend and the other
guy, who is like her best friend. She forgot her birth control with
everything that was going on. So now, there are several possible
fathers, including another guy they, ah, share with."
"Wow."
"Please don't say anything to anyone. If it got out that the baby might
be mine the media will lose their shit, then everyone would figure out
that Lacy's been with several guys. I don't even think her father
knows."
"So when?" I ask.
"When will I know?" he asks, and I nod. "After the baby's born in
February."
"Holy shit."
"I never really thought about kids before, but in a way, I want this
baby to be mine. It's crazy and illogical, and probably mostly just
egotistical to want a bunch of little Zacks running around, but like you
said, the idea of holding my own child? Yeah, I think I want that
someday."
My chest seizes up and I can't get any air. "Then you...you shouldn't
waste time with me," I tell him, pushing my palms against his hard,
unmoving chest trying to escape before I break down in front of him.

"Natalie, no...that's noL.God, woman! I want to be with you and only
you! Quit trying to find reasons to push me away!"
Zack grabs both of my hands and holds them above my head on the
pillow with one of his. "I'm not going anywhere," he says before he
nips at my bottom lip. "I sure as hell don't deserve a second chance
with you, but I'm taking it anyway."
Using his lips and tongue, he silenced me for the rest of the night,
until we fell asleep together with all of our clothes still on.
The next night when Zack came over I decided he should be rewarded
for his patience with me. After I give him a kiss hello, I shut my
apartment door before I drop to my knees and reach for his zipper.
"Whoa! Natalie, what are you doing?" he asks in surprise.
"I'll give you three guesses," I say quoting his line from a few
weekends back when he went down on me. Now it was time for me to
finally return the favor.
"You don't have to..." He groans when my lips seal around the tip of
his cock. He wasn't hard when I pulled him out of his pants, but that
changed real quickly. "Oh, fuck!"
Holding him around the base I lean forward to take as much as I can,
knowing it won't be his entire long length.

Keeping him in my mouth, I work up and down his thick shaft,
stroking him in my fist at the same time to make up for what I can't
swallow.
"God, Natalie," Zack mutters, his hands reaching down to move the
hair from my face. I look up into his chocolate eyes and see his lids
lowered as they watch me. "I'm not going to.. .oh shit.. .stop."
I grab his ass with my free hand, showing him I'm not going
anywhere. A few more trips up and down his shaft, sucking him hard
and cupping his balls, he comes with a shout of nonsensical curses.
When he finishes he leans back against the door, breathing heavy with
his jeans and boxers still around his ankles.
God I want to see him naked so bad it hurts.
I stand up and push his Wildcats' coat down his arms, then pull his
sweater and undershirt over his head in one swift motion while he
gives me a sexy, crooked smile. I run my hands along his unshaven,
golden jaw, then over his broad shoulders, down his biceps, across his
pecs, and lower to his chiseled abs.
I go to my knees again and pull off the first shoe and then the other to
get rid of his socks, pants, and boxers. Running my hands up his legs,
around his powerful thighs I stand, feeling small and delicate in front
of so much masculine strength packed into one amazing man.
"You're beautiful," I tell him.
"You're gorgeous," he replies, with a smile spreading

across his face.
I lean against his chest and shake my head. I was once one of those
shallow, self-absorbed girls. Back in college I knew I was attractive
and that men wanted me, but now... now I'm damaged goods.
I don't have any more time to mope in my pity party before I'm hefted
into strong arms.
"You look like you need to relax," Zack says with a devious grin. "Let
me help you with that."
He heads for my bedroom, laying me down gently and pulling off my
pajama bottoms and panties, without my protest. He presses kiss after
kiss on my sex, his warm breath teasing me until I'm ready to explode
and beg him for more. Finally his tongue snakes out and licks my
flesh, making my hips bounce off the bed.
"Oh shit!" I exclaim unable to stop the words. I feel Zack's answering
chuckle rumble through my body before he goes back to work. It
doesn't take long before he sends me soaring.
I blink my eyes open when the mattress shifts, and then I watch his
incredible backside walk out of my bedroom. What the hell?
Thankfully he comes back a second later, rolling on a condom.
He climbs on the bed with the purpose and determination of a man on
a mission. That mission being getting inside me as soon as possible.
He wedges himself

between my thighs, spreading them wider to accommodate his big
body.
"This okay?" he asks from above me, holding most of his weight up
on his forearms. My shirt and padded bra are still on and I'm glad he
hasn't tried to remove them.
"Yes," I reply, and then his mouth crashes down on mine. His hard
length pushes forward, seeking entrance.
My hips rise to meet his, then he's sliding in, thick and hard,
completely filling me.
"God, Natalie," Zack groans before pushing his chest up. His muscles
are tight and tense and I'm pretty sure he's holding back with his
thrusts, trying to be gentle with me for whatever reason.
"Take me," I urge him.
"You sure? It's gonna be hard and fast."
"Yes."
Suddenly I'm being pulled across the bed. Zack stands at the edge,
raising my legs straight up against his chest before he pounds into me.
I'm so tight it feels like his thick shaft is even bigger than usual.
"God, yes, Zack," I moan as the pleasure grows again to astronomical
proportions. "So close.fuck me harder."
I hear his answering growl and then he's slamming into me, sending
me over the edge.
"Fuck, Natalie," he curses when he stills inside of me.

Breathing heavily, he pulls out and my legs fall weakly over the edge
of the bed. Zack heads for the bathroom and my heart stops as I watch
him leave and return naked. I'm unable to figure out what a gorgeous
man like him is doing here with me.
Zack tugs me up to the pillows with him until I'm lying across his
broad naked chest while we both recover.
"You're so smooth," I tell him as my fingertips make rounds on every
available inch of his upper body.
"Requirement for the underwear ads," he replies with a chuckle.
Holy hell, I'm with a man that is so hot people pay him to take
pictures without his clothes on.
"I bet it's not easy, having to turn down all the woman who are
constantly trying to fuck you."
His chest rumbles with his laugh. "It's a tough burden to have to carry.
That's why I like being with you."
"What?" I ask.
"Why do all those women want to fuck me? Because I'm rich, famous,
hot? Any or all of the above? I can be a complete asshole and it
doesn't matter to them, because they're after my money, or fifteen
minutes of fame, or bragging rights. It gets really fucking old after a
while."
"How do you know I don't just want those things?"
"Because you've never asked me for anything of monetary value, you
hate having the spotlight on you, and

even if you do think I'm hot, it wasn't enough for you to put up with
me being an arrogant asshole."
"Yeah, I guess all that is true," I agree.
"So who was that guy?" he asks.
"At the game? That was Dr. Blake Andrews, Rachel's friend from
high school and her eye doctor. The hussy threw me under the bus,
asking him if he wanted what was supposed to be her ticket to the
game."
"And you went out with him Friday night, too?" Zack asks.
I push myself up to look at him. "How'd you know about
that?"
His eyes cut away before he answers, like he's embarrassed. "I may
have come by here that night at the same moment you were leaving
with him."
"Oh." He'd come by? He'd wanted to see me even after I blew him
off? I couldn't help my smile.
"Don't look so damn smug," he says, pulling my head back down
against his chest, and kissing the top. I keep silent but my smile
remains in place. "I thought you'd stopped seeing me for that fucker."
"I went out with him to try and forget you. It didn't work," I reply
truthfully.
"Did you fuck him?"
"No."
"Good," he says, squeezing me tighter to him.

I've wondered the same thing, and even though I'm almost certain of
his answer I ask him anyway.
"Did you...I mean it's okay if you did since we weren't together... "
"No. I swear I didn't fuck anyone else. I couldn't stop thinking about
you," he replies, surprising me. Maybe I really do mean something to
him.
"So can I stay here again tonight?" Zack asks. "I like sleeping with
you, and getting to see you in the mornings."
"Sure. On the condition that you have to remain naked," I tease.
"Oh, baby, that's a given after what we just did. There's no way I'm
going to let you sleep all night without having my way with you at
least one more time."
I shiver from the instant influx of arousal just a few words from him
can cause.
Zack asked me to come over to his place the next night, and
surprisingly, camera crews were still set up all along the gated
entrance of his neighborhood.
Lovely.
I guess now they'll know we do more than kiss.
"Hey, sorry about the front," Zack says when he opens one of the
double doors of his two-story, European style, stone mansion. From
the outside it looks like two beautiful

houses were crammed together to form one gigantic one.
"It's okay. No more secrets," I say with a shrug as I walk in and look
around. After a second I realize the foyer I'm currently standing on is
actually made of marble, which doesn't seem all that out of place with
the expensive and artsy light fixtures, wall hangings, and stone
columns. "Nice place. It's just a little bit bigger than my Polly Pocket
apartment." Like ten-thousand more square feet.
"Thanks," he replies, sounding distracted.
"Have you watched any of the coverage on TV?" I ask when we enter
a living room. There's a huge tan and brown plush sectional
containing a dozen pillows or more and one massive leather recliner
positioned in front of the biggest flat screen television I've ever seen.
Everything he owns makes me feel tiny.
"No, but my manager says it's been great. The media loves you, of
course. Everyone's surprised I've settled down, for real this time,"
Zack tells me, his back to me while he faces a wall of windows.
Windows that look out into a beautifully lit backyard, complete with
an inground pool and
hot tub.
"That's why the paparazzi is out front. They keep following me
around everywhere I go, hoping to catch me with another woman
since they aren't convinced that I've given them all up. I never did
when I was with Lacy," he says and then he turns back around to face
me, his thumbs hooked casually in the front pockets of his loose
fitting

jeans. Barefoot and dressed casual, he looks mouthwateringly good. I
don't feel worthy of being in his presence.
"This is all still hard for me to believe, too," I tell him honestly.
"I have given them all up," he says. "You know that, right? I don't
want anyone but you. I'd be a fool to want anyone but you."
"I know. I trust you," I assure him with a smile.
He takes three of his giant steps forward and grabs my face with both
hands to kiss me softly. "Come to bed with me?" he asks when he
pulls back.
"Okay," I exhale nervously.
Leading me by my hand, Zack takes me up the gorgeous suspended
spiral staircase until we finally come to an enormous, high ceiling
bedroom with an equally large wooden sleigh bed in the center.
He grabs me around my waist and sits me up on the edge of the
mattress to remove my black boots, then my socks. His shirt comes
off next and I think I may have drooled a little. My hand comes up to
the side my mouth, and yep, I'm drooling.
The man is pure perfection. Muscle definition like I've never seen on
another human being before stretches from his chest and shoulders all
the way down to his freaking eight pack. I don't think I'll ever get used
to seeing him this way. Next comes his jeans and boxers, and I begin
to feel

light headed. It's too much sexiness for one woman to withstand.
Even with my blatant ogling, Zack's face remains serious. No cocky
grins or witty remarks.
Standing naked between my legs he begins working on the button and
zipper of my jeans. I lift my hips so he can pull them and my panties
down and off.
His lips meet mine to gently coax me into the next part. Slowly, his
hands push my shirt up my sides until I raise my arms for him to
remove it. That leaves me in only my black padded bra, and I'm still
reluctant to let it go. Seeming to understand, Zack shifts me higher up
the bed and covers my body with his while our tongues meet and
tangle.
Moving lower, he kisses my chest, and then my stomach before
spreading my thighs wide. Moans flow from my mouth, one right
after the other when his tongue starts teasing my sensitive flesh. My
fingers comb through his thick blonde hair as he builds the pleasure
within me. I cry out his name when I come, shattering into a million
wonderful pieces.
Oh, he's good. Now my body is so relaxed and carefree I'll do
anything he wants. And he just wants all of me.
Zack places a kiss on my hip and a few trailing up to my stomach. I
close my eyes when his hands go underneath my back and release the
clasp of my bra. Slowly he pulls the straps down, first one arm, and
then the

other, before removing it all together. I clench my eyes shut to hold
off the tears threatening to fall when I feel his lips softly kiss one side
of my chest and then the other.
His mouth finally returns to mine, and I begin to relax knowing it's
done and over with. He's seen all of me, including my scars, and the
world hasn't ended. Zack is still here, his body warm and comforting
above mine. His erection brushes thick and hard against my entrance,
assuring me that he still wants me despite my flaws.
"Thank you for trusting me," he says against my lips. "You're
gorgeous, every single inch. And I'm grateful for your scars. They're a
visible reminder of your strength, and the path you fought to stay on
so that you could find your way back to me."
Tears overflow from my eyes as I wrap my arms around his back,
holding him tightly. I'd put my faith and trust in Zack to not hurt me
while I was so vulnerable, and he somehow managed to put me at
ease and take away my insecurity with just a few words.
With a shift of his hips he enters me, nothing between us, but I trust
him, even knowing his long history of lots of women. He wouldn't do
anything to hurt me. I know he just wants to feel all of me, and that's
exactly what I want, too.
"This okay, baby?" he asks softly against my ear.
"Yes."
After his lips cover mine again we kiss with a soul deep desperation.
Soft and gently Zack takes his time making

love to me. There's no other word for it, and it's like nothing I've ever
felt before. It's right and perfect as our bodies move together as one.
His warm skin presses against mine from my lips all the way down to
my toes.
Even after we both come together we don't let each other go. Shifting
us to our sides Zack holds me against his chest until we both fall
asleep.

Chapter Twelve
Zack
Making love. I'd always thought it was a ridiculous and unnecessary
synonym for "fucking" that women prefer and men use just to appease
them. Now I know how absolutely wrong I was about that.
Last night, Natalie and I made love.
No shit.
Fucking's a physical act that's only about finding a release. Making
love almost felt...spiritual, and I'm anything but religious. It was like
the joining of not just our bodies, but also our souls. A declaration of
our emotions that there simply aren't words adequate enough to
describe how we feel about each other.
It's apparently not something you can have with just anyone either. It
has to be with someone you're completely head over heels in love
with, otherwise it's just fucking. Plain, boring, same old shit, fucking.
Maybe I'm a pussy for getting all deep, but after living my entire life
missing out on what I have with Natalie, I can't help but reevaluate
my disgusting past.
I may be in heaven with her, but I'm still suffocating on my guilt. I
shouldn't be allowed to make love to Natalie with

the lies I'm keeping from her. It seems so wrong, tainting what should
be, and could be perfect if not for the fact that I'm an asshole. But I'm
too damn scared to tell her the truth. I just can't bear to lose her again.
The alarm clock on my phone goes off, causing Natalie to wiggle and
stretch her arms over her head.
"Good morning, beautiful," I tell her with a kiss to her temple.
"Mm," she responds, still groggy.
I ease gently out from under her to go take a shower and get ready to
start the day. After I'm dressed I grab the box from the closet and take
it to wake Natalie up before I have to leave and she has to go to work.
"Wake up, sleepy head. It's seven-thirty," I tell her. Sitting down on
the edge of the bed I ease my fingertips up and down her naked spine.
"Morning," she says when she finally turns her head and blinks her
beautiful eyes open to look at me.
"I've got to head out but I wanted to give you this before I leave," I
tell her, sitting the box down on the mattress.
"Holy shit!" she exclaims, rolling over to face me. "That's like...a
really nice camera. And really expensive. I can'L.that's too much," she
says, pushing the box back toward me.
"This is non-negotiable, woman. I know photography is important to
you, and I want you to have it and use it. I bet I

can even get you down on the field if you want. Maybe take some
pictures? Mostly of me, of course," I tease her.
"Really?" she asks with a smile.
"Yeah, if you want. But you have to keep the camera or no deal."
"Thank you."
Getting to her knees she wraps her arms around my neck. I hold her
small body to mine, hugging her back and wishing I didn't have to let
go.
"You're not making it easy to leave," I tell her and she unfortunately
pulls away to sit back down on the mattress. She's of course still
naked, my cock can't help but notice.
"Now look what you did," I tell her, indicating the tenting of my black
nylon pants.
"Sorry," she says, not looking the least bit remorseful, and thankfully
still only a tiny bit self-conscious.
I lean down for a quick kiss then force myself to stand up and back
away from the bed.
"Stay as long as you need this morning, and I'll see you tonight?" I
ask.
"Sure."
"Meet me at seven-thirty."
"Where?" she asks with a tilt of her head, her blonde hair messy and
sexy from last night.
"You better bring your camera because you're going to

witness a historic, once in a lifetime event. We're going to the Rinky
Dink."
Watching her fall back on the pillows with a giggling fit is well worth
the embarrassment I'm certain this decision will cost me in a few
hours.
Natalie
The morning of the photoshoot I arrive at my friend Janet's studio
early to help get everything set up. I've always loved working with
her, watching her capture moments and turn them into beautiful
photos.
I smile, thinking about some of the moments I captured with my new
camera last night. The hilarious ones of Zack wearing brown rental
roller skates, and then a few more intimate moments later with him in
his bed wearing nothing
at all.
Zack's the first Wildcats player up for the calendar today, and with a
quick kiss in greeting he pulls off his shirt and applies the pink ribbon
temporary tattoo over his heart. Each player today will be asked to
select where to put the ribbon on their amazing bodies. I understood
and appreciated the sweet significance of Zack's placement.
A few shots later of him holding a football while wearing

nothing but his jeans with the top of his white boxers showing and
he's done. I'm fanning myself from the way my body heats up at
seeing him. How is it possible that I'm the one that gets to be intimate
with this amazing man? Just this morning we'd gone a round, and
we've been spending every night with each other, but I can't seem to
get enough of him.
"You're setting the bar high," I tell him, and he smiles down at me
before giving me a quick kiss.
"I'm not real happy about you seeing a bunch of my teammates
half-naked. Don't let any of them talk you into going out with them."
"I'd be a fool," I tell him the same thing he recently told me, and then
he kisses me goodbye when he has to leave to meet his trainer.
The photoshoot goes smoothly throughout the rest of the morning and
into the afternoon. If it wasn't for all the bare chested men Janet and I
would've turned the air conditioning on because it was getting so hot
in here.
"How many more?" Janet asks, exasperatedly. Not that she was
complaining, but the parade of sexy men didn't seem to have an end in
sight.
I glance down to the list of names at my clipboard. "Two more and
we're done."
"Awesome. Thanks again for the referral. This has been so fun, and
the publicity will be great!"
"No, thank you for helping out. I can't wait to see the

final product."
Although the men that came in after Zack were fine, they were
nowhere near his ballpark of hotness. He will probably make the front
cover, and he should since he's the one we have to thank for getting
his team members involved in this project.
"Hi, ladies," a tall, dark and handsome man says when he swaggers
through the front door. Jake Young, the Wildcats' best wide receiver. I
remember all too well his flirting from the autograph signing, too.
"Hey, Mr. Young. Thanks for agreeing to help out," I tell
him.
His dark eyes give me an appraising look, and after a few seconds it's
even uncomfortable. "Damn. Zack's lucky to have you. I got stuck
with a frigid snob."
That's not a very nice thing to say about someone, especially a
significant other.
"Give me a few minutes to switch out the memory cards and we'll be
ready," Janet tells us before she disappears into the supply room of
her studio.
Jake takes a few more steps toward me, starting to invade my personal
space. Then he reaches behind his head and pulls his shirt off.
Alrighty then. He has a deep tan and is nicely cut but still not in the
same league with Zack.
"So, how do you want me?" he asks, the statement loaded with
innuendo. I can see why he and Zack are best

friends.
My cheeks heat as I take a step back from him. "We'll start with a few
standing shots as soon as Janet gets back," I tell him, gesturing to the
lighted area we'd set up for the shoot.
He raises his chin in a sort of a nod. "It's Natalie, right?"
"Yep."
"I can't believe Zack's kept you all to himself for this long." He licks
his bottom lip while his eyes rake over me from head to toe yet again.
"I've been trying to convince him to share you."
I'm sure my eyebrows touch the sky. "S-share me?"
"Yeah, you know, we get off on watching each other fuck the other's
girl. But when it's a really fine piece of ass we hit it at the same time."
Wow. That was TMI and...shocking.
I have to clear my throat. "Really?" I ask, looking toward the back for
Janet.
"Yeah." He lets out a deep chuckle, sticking his thumbs down the
front of his low riding pants. The move hitches them down even lower
until the treasure trail hits the whole forest. "But Zack probably told
you all about that when you agreed to help him, since that's how we
got into this whole mess in the first place."
I nod, having no idea what he's talking about.
"Zack doesn't want to share but he sure as hell couldn't

wait to fuck my fake girlfriend when he came over the other night. He
had her on her back in less than five minutes. She's hot, but she's such
a bitch," he says, shaking his head. "At least it'll be all over in a few
weeks."
"Who's...who's your fake girlfriend?" I ask with a shaky voice. Zack
slept with her? Recently? He told me I was the only woman he's been
with.
"Addison James. Fucking Jerry and Satan. Satan's the nickname of
our attorney that's watching us like a hawk. But hell, you do what
you've got to do to keep your job," he says with a shrug. "I still can't
believe how many times Zack's gotten you two in the press. I bet Jerry
shit himself after all the good publicity from Sunday's halftime. Did
Zack know about the whole breast cancer survivor thing before then?
Is that why he asked you to do this for him?"
I just shake my head since I'm too sick to respond. He can't be
implying what I think he is. But then I remember Zack telling me that
on the day we met he and Jake had been in hot water with the team's
owner and almost lost their contracts. And then he'd asked me out a
few hours later.
Oh God. I'm Zack's fake girlfriend to make the paparazzi believe he's
settled down. He hasn't been seen going out with other women
because he can't!
"Well, I have to say, you two look genuine, and I don't think anyone
has figured it out. How much did he pay you? Maybe I'm being too
stingy with Addy. I thought a hundred

grand for four or five weeks was generous, but the bitch still won't
fuck me. Zack barely looked at her and she started sucking his cock."
"Let me go check with Janet and see if she's ready," I say, walking
away before the tears fall down my cheeks.
Zack
I try calling Natalie again with no answer. I haven't talked to her since
yesterday morning at the photoshoot. Before last night we'd spent the
last four nights with each other. I missed waking up with her this
morning. My pillow still smelled like cupcakes, which made me think
of her all night long. Several times I started to get up and just go to
her place, but I figured she'd be asleep. I thought she might be staying
away from my place to finally get some rest since she hasn't been
getting much around me.
Now, twenty-four hours since I last saw her or heard from her I'm
getting worried. I'm swinging by her place and checking on her since
she didn't show up to work today either. It's Friday, and her Carolina
blue car is parked in the apartment lot, so I know she's home. Still
doesn't explain why she wouldn't answer the phone or text me back.
The girls in her office didn't know why she was out of work, either.
They said she'd just sent them all an email saying

she was taking the day off. They assumed she was spending the day
with me.
Oh no, what if she's sick and didn't want us all to worry. The thought
instantly makes me panic, thinking the worst.
I knock on her door, and stagger back a step when she opens it. Her
eyes are red-rimmed and narrowed, her lips pursed into a tight line.
I'm relieved that she doesn't look sick, but she is seriously pissed off
and I have no idea why.
"What the fuck do you want?" she asks, and I blink at her use of the
f-word. I've hardly ever heard it leave her lips.
"What's wrong? I've been calling you-"
"I don't see any cameras," she interrupts and sticks her head out the
door to glance around. "So why are you
here?"
"What? Because I want to see you. I missed you last night. Why
haven't you answered your phone?"
"I know, Zack, so you can stop pretending now."
"Pretending? Natalie, what's going on?"
It can't be about...
"You deserve an Oscar for your performance because even I fell for it.
I really did," she says, wiping a tear from under her eye. I actually
hear the crack of my heart when it breaks right down the center. "But
I'm done being your fake girlfriend."
Oh no. "Natalie, let me explain-"

"I've heard enough of your bullshit to last a lifetime."
"Please, Natalie. What we had was real. Is real. Yes, us being together
helped me keep my contract, but I've wanted you since sophomore
year! If I had to be with someone I wanted it to be you and only you!"
She slams the door in my face without another word and I hear the
deadbolt turn.
I stand there staring at her wooden door trying to find the answer of
how everything got so screwed up. How? How did she find out? She
hasn't talked to my manager or agent. The two of them and my coach
were the only ones that knew. Oh and Jake's people.
Fuck
I jog down the steps and to my car with purpose. That son of a bitch!
Jake would've seen Natalie at the photoshoot, and he must've ran his
fucking mouth.
I sped to his house and am out of the car, banging on his front door a
few minutes later, growing angrier by the second.
"Yo, Zack-"
"What the fuck did you say to her?" I ask him when I grab his shirt
with both fists and slam his back against the foyer wall.
"What's your fucking problem?" he asks, trying to shove me
backwards, but I'm bigger and so damn furious that I don't budge an
inch.

"What did you say to Natalie?" I snarl, and recognition lights his eyes
before he smirks.
"She tell you about me asking to fuck her? Is that why you're pissed?
You deserve it you asshole!"
"I can't believe you! Why would you do that?"
"Why did you fuck Addison?" he snaps.
"I didn't! What does it matter about her anyway? I thought you hated
each other."
"So you didn't fuck her that night you ate her out?" he asks with a
furrowed brow.
"No. I couldn't. I was too fucked up over Natalie," I admit.
"Hold up. You actually care about her or some shit? Well damn, why
didn't you just say so?" he asks, like this is all my fault. Well, hell, I
guess it is.
"What else did you say to her?" I ask.
"You fucking Addison may have come up. The whole fake girlfriend
thing, too. She does know all about that,
right?"
"Goddamn it!" I yell and let him go before I choke him to death with
my bare hands. This isn't his fault. I should've told her. God knows
I've had plenty of opportunities.
"Apparently not," he mutters, straightening his shirt
"No, she didn't know. I care about her. Fuck, I love her and now she's
never going to forgive me for what I've done
to her."

Every second I've spent with her she'll see as a lie, an
act.
"Why didn't you tell her? How'd you get her to agree to it this long?"
he asks.
"I asked her out, or more like bribed her to go out with me, in
exchange for the calendar. I didn't know I was going to end up falling
for her."
"I don't know what to tell you, bro. Sounds like you're shit out of luck
Jake's worthless with this sort of thing. I needed a woman to help me
figure out how to undo this mess. Not a gold-digging whore but a
decent, regular woman.
I didn't deserve her help but that doesn't stop me from pulling up to
her townhouse a few hours later. I knock on the door, fully expecting
Lacy to tell me to get lost, but I was desperate enough to try.
Her new man opens the door, which doesn't surprise me. I knew they
lived together. It should bother me that we were together for an entire
year and she wouldn't move in with me, but it doesn't.
Her new guy looks the same, brown hair, green eyes covered with
glasses. Small. His eyebrows shoot up when he realizes it's me.
"Hey, is Lacy here? Sorry to just drop by."
"Lacy?" he calls out while still facing me.
"Yeah?" she answers from within the house.

"There's an NFL quarterback here to see you." The guy doesn't seem
all that upset to see me. His expression is more amused than anything
else.
"Zack?" Lacy calls out a second before she appears. Her blonde hair
is up in a messy bun, navy blue eyes wide in surprise, wearing a
yellow cotton tee over her small baby bump and shorts. She looks
beautiful as always, but she's never made my heart race or my gut
clench like another blonde.
Actually, the two women look a lot alike, except...Lacy's eyes are
blue and Natalie's are jade. Is that why I was attracted to Natalie after
Lacy ended things? No. Natalie came before Lacy. Only briefly, but
subconsciously maybe the similarities are why I'd wanted Lacy.
"What are you doing here?" Lacy asks, crossing her arms over her
chest defensively.
"I've fucked up and I don't know what to do. I need your help, even
though I don't deserve it for all the shit I've done."
Her arms drop back to her sides and she looks at her new guy. He
shrugs as if answering her unspoken question.
"Come on in, but Will's staying. Whatever you say you'll have to say
it in front of him."
I nod my agreement and follow her through the foyer to the living
room.
"How's everything?" I ask. "You know, um, with the baby
and all?"

"Good. The baby is healthy. I'm right around twenty-two weeks now.
We've decided not to find out the gender, but to ah, let it be a
surprise."
Yeah, like the paternity. I really hope we don't all end up on Maury
Povich.
"So what's up?" Lacy asks, taking a seat on the cream sofa with Will
sitting down beside her. I lower myself into the leather chair across
from them. Right where I'd been sitting the day I found out I might be
a father. Shit, one problem at a time.
"L.God I'm an asshole." I scrub my hands over my face trying to
figure out where to begin.
"Tell me something I don't know," Lacy responds dryly. Fair enough.
"All right, I guess I should start at the beginning. You know I got into
some trouble a few months ago because of my.. .extracurricular
activities..." "
"Fucking every female you meet, and in particular the sluts on the
plane?"
"They've since made a porno about you with that exact title," her
boyfriend intercedes excitedly. "One of the lines they actually use is,
'I have had it with these motherfucking sluts on this motherfucking
plane!'"
"I'm not going to even ask how you know that." Lacy smiles and rolls
her eyes at her significant other. "Continue," she instructs me.

"Well, yeah, pretty much all the sluts in the press landed me in hot
water. And then I got into a big mess with a gold-digging whore. The
team agreed to bail me out and keep it buried, but the owner was
pissed and ready to can me. He threatened to share my dirty laundry
with the league if I got out of line again, to make sure no other team
would even try to pick me up. He said that if I wanted to stay on his
team I had to find a girlfriend. A real woman who was good and
decent, not slutty like the women I'd been seen out in public with. I
had less than a week to get her in front of the media, and the deadline
was that Sunday's game."
I shake my head and take a deep breath before going on. "I met
Natalie just a few hours later. She's...amazing. She works for the
breast cancer foundation and was at the stadium getting merchandise
signed for their fundraiser auction. I asked her out and she turned me
down."
"I like her already," Lacy teases with a smile.
"Yeah, well, I was persistent. I offered her a calendar of half-naked
football players to raise money for her organization if she'd go out
with me a few times. So she agreed of course to help out her cause.
After spending some time with her I realized she was a cheerleader at
Carolina while I was there. We even kissed at the end of one of the
games after I knocked her down. But I was an idiot and never asked
her out. I couldn't believe my luck. Suddenly there she was, back in
my life, and I fell for her. Hard. I didn't know when we started dating
that she'd survived breast cancer a few years ago. When I found out it

scared the shit out of me."
"You actually care about her," Lacy stats the obvious.
"Yeah, I do."
"And you didn't tell her the truth? About the owner's requirement and
that you were using her to keep your job?" Lacy asks.
I shake my head. "She found out from Jake, who's in the same boat.
He was trying to get back at me for screwing around with his girl.
Natalie's never going to forgive me."
"Well, not only did you use her, but you used her life threatening
illness to spin some good PR for yourself," she correctly observes.
"I know that's how it looks to her, and sounds when I explain it to
you, but that's not what I was doing. I didn't even know about what
she'd been through. But the damage is done and I don't know how to
fix it."
Lacy sighs and lean back against the couch with a hand resting
naturally on the top of her baby bump. "Do you love her?"
"Yes."
"More than football?" she asks skeptically with a raised eyebrow.
"What the hell? Of course I love her more than a fucking sport. Do
you love your job more than him?" I ask incredulously, waving a hand
at the man beside her.

"No. It's just a job. There are plenty of them and only one of him. Just
like there's only one Natalie for you. It seems like you've got to prove
that to her, so she'll know she's more than a pawn used by you to keep
your contract."
"So you're saying the only way to get her back is to give
up football?"
"Whoa now!" Will speaks up for the first time in several minutes.
"Let's not urge him to make any rash decisions. Alex Marshall sucks.
The Wildcats' season would be over."
Lacy slaps his shoulder playfully. "I tried to convince him to give up
his loyalty to the Wildcats and become a Giants fan, but he refuses to
budge. Anyways, would you rather have her or a Super Bowl ring?"
"It'd be nice to have both, but if I had to choose between winning the
Super Bowl or winning Natalie, I'd choose her every damn time,
without hesitation."
"Well then, there you go. Problem solved," Lacy says with a smile.
"What if I give up football and she still won't forgive
me?"
"That's a chance you have to be willing to take."
I nod in acceptance but then I have a thought. "Would you be willing
to talk to her for me? You see through my bullshit just like she does,
so you might be able to convince her. I need her to know that I didn't
mean to hurt her."
"I guess I could try."

"Will you take him with you?" I ask, nodding to Will. "I don't want
her to wonder if there's anything still going on with us. I told her I
might be the baby's father."
Lacy shrugs. "f he wants."
"Hell if it'll possibly save the season I'm all in," Will answers with a
smile.
"Thanks. I appreciate it. I guess I'll go talk to Jerry in the morning," I
say as I stand up and start for the door. "I'll text you her address."
"Okay. I really do hope it all works out for you, Zack," Lacy says, and
she actually gives me a hug before I turn to walk down the sidewalk.
"Me, too. Thanks, Lacy."
"I'm sorry about what I said," she tells me before I make it down the
front steps. "About not wanti ng the baby to be yours."
"Oh." I wasn't sure what to say to that. Of course I knew she wanted
the baby to be Will's, but the way she'd said it that day... it was like
she was saying she didn't want to have to deal with sharing a baby
with a pain in the ass like me. "It's okay, I get it. I was a jerk, and I'm
sorry about how I acted. You know, that day you told us you were
pregnant? I didn't want to be a father. I didn't think I wanted it to be
mine, but now...I'm trying to be the man I need to be either way."
Even if Lacys baby isn't mine, I want to have kids someday, hopefully
with Natalie, and do right by them.

"She's moving if you want to feel her," Lacy says.
"She? You mean...the baby? It's a girl and she-she's... " I stutter in
shock.
Lacy presses her fi ngerti ps to the bottom half of her bump and
smiles. "I think she's a girl, Will thinks she's a boy. I just don't want to
call him or her 'it.' So do you want to feel? If so, you better hurry
because it might be a while before she does it again."
I hesitate for a second but then I just have to know. I head back up the
porch and place my palm over Lacy's
belly.
"Right here," she says, moving my hand lower and pressing down
harder than I would have. And then I feel it, a soft nudge or poke. A
few seconds later it happens again.
"Holy shit, that's...that's the baby." An actual baby moving and
growing inside of her that might be...
"Yeah. It's pretty amazing, huh?" Lacy looks up and asks with a
knowing smile.
"Like nothing I've ever imagined," I tell her. "Thanks for letting me
feel her, even if she's not mine."

Chapter Thirteen
Natalie
I feel sick as I watch one of the Hollywood news channels, and almost
upchuck the Ben & Jerry's I had for breakfast. There's breaking news,
photos of Zack, hugging his ex last night. His pregnant ex-girlfriend
that he's seen affectionately touching her bump. Wow. I didn't think
he was over her, but that just goes to show he doesn't care about me at
all. It was all just a big fat lie, so he could keep his job, and oh yeah,
he fucked me a few times on the side since he apparently couldn't be
with anyone else.
After Rachel calls my phone three times in a row I finally decide to
answer it in case something's wrong.
"Hello?"
"I can't believe what your sexy ass boyfriend did!" she exclaims.
"Yeah, well I'm not that surprised," I exhale. "I just feel so stupid for
thinking he actually cared about me."
"Ah, what the heck are you talking about, Nat?" Rachel asks.
"The bastard was just using me to keep his contract. It was all a lie," I
confess on a sniffle as more tears escape.

"Natalie I don't know what Kool-Aid you've been drinking, but a man
that donates a quarter million dollars honoring you probably deserves
a little more gratitude than
that."
"A quarter what?" I ask obviously having delusions of grandeur now.
"This morning we received an 'anonymous' donation by wire transfer
for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in your honor. Now who
the hell else could it possibly be?"
"But...it could've been someone else..." I say, even though I can't
think of another soul that knows me and has that much money. Maybe
this was Zack's attempt to try and buy me off so I'll keep up the lie.
Never going to happen. Oh, but we need that money. That's over two
thousand free mammograms!
Before I can ponder why Zack would do this, there's a soft knock on
my door. I ignore it, but a few seconds later there's another. Ugh.
"Hey Rach, I've got to go. Someone's here."
"Maybe it's an incredibly hot quarterback!" she says before we say
goodbye.
If so I probably still won't answer it. Probably.
I reluctantly drag my unclean, rough looking ass over to check the
peephole. I'm not expecting to see a pretty blonde woman standing
there with a young brown-haired guy. Hold on, she looks familiar.
Sort of like me but a lot like

Zack's ex-girlfriend. What could she possibly want? To rub it in that
he'd gone back to her? The two didn't seem to be moving, so I turn the
lock and jerk the door open to get it over with. The man and woman
both give me sad, pity-filled smiles.
"Natalie?" the blonde woman asks hesitantly. "Uh-huh."
"Hi, I'm Lacy and this is my boyfriend, Will."
Boyfriend? Did he know she's seeing Zack on the side?
"Zack asked us to come talk to you. Can we come in for a minute?"
she asks
"The Wildcats' season is at stake here," the guy says with a grin.
My sadness instantly falls away and my anger resurfaces. "I refuse to
pretend to be his girlfriend! I don't care if the jerk loses his freaking
contract!"
"No, no, no. I didn't mean to imply that," the guy says, holding his
hands up in surrender.
"Zack loves you," Lacy says.
"What? He loves me? Are you out of your mind? He was using me!"
"Honestly, I was just as surprised as you. We were together for a year
and he never cared about me the way he already cares about you," she
says. "I mean look at us. We could be sisters, except your eyes are
green, right? He

met you first and obviously that's the only reason he dated me."
"I'm sorry, but you lost me," I say, rubbing my aching temple.
"Can we come in, so I can try to explain?" she asks.
I finally nod and open the door for them. Walking back through the
apartment I quickly grab up the piles of tissues spread all over the
place from crying my eyes out and toss them in the garbage.
I take a seat in my grandma's old rocking chair, so they can have the
couch. The same couch Zack fucked me on. I shake my head to clear
those thoughts.
"Zack told us everything from the beginning, and it sounds like he
was an absolute jackass. He lied to you and used you without you
knowing," Lacy says. "I completely understand why you're upset and
never want to see him again. I'd feel the same way, which is why I
agreed to come see you. If I were you I'd want someone to tell me that
he screwed up, but he's genuinely sorry and he really does care. It
wasn't an act. I know Zack and I've never seen him the way he was
last night. He was distraught. He says he loves you, and I actually
believe him. I've heard a lot of his lies, so I'm not quick to believe
anything he says. But I believe this."
I shake my head. "He's a great actor. I'm sure he's just trying to keep
his job."
"Actually, he's giving up his job."

"What?" I ask.
"He's meeting with the Wildcats' owner this morning and walking
away from his contract. He says you're more important to him."
"He can't do that. Alex Marshall sucks!"
"That's what I told him, but he wouldn't listen," Lacys boyfriend says.
"It's just a job," Lacy says.
"An incredible job he loves and is great at."
"Maybe you should give him another chance and talk him out of
taking such drastic measures," the guy says.
"No," I respond quickly.
"I remember that video from the UNC and VT game," Lacy says. "I
didn't know who you were, but I was jealous of you back when Zack
and I dated. He never kissed me like that. He wanted you before he
made it to the NFL, without any ulterior motives. Why is it so hard to
believe he wants you now?"
"He could have any woman he wants, so why would he pick me?" I
ask.
"I thought the same thing when Lacy and I first met," her boyfriend
says. "I made up all sorts of excuses, saying she was just using me as
a rebound from Zack or trying to piss her father off. Even though I
couldn't figure out her reasoning, and still haven't, that doesn't mean I
can't see that she loves me. For whatever reason, she picked me,

and if I'm who she wants then I'm not going to argue."
"And I learned a valuable lesson about forgiveness. Will hurt me and
betrayed my trust. I was so freaking pissed at him. But after my mom
died, well, she helped me realize that sometimes the people we love
are worth forgiving."
"I don't know," I say, biting my lip in indecision. "The whole time we
were together was just one big lie. An act. He never actually wanted
to be with me."
But when we were alone together, no cameras around, it did feel right
and perfect. And why did he make that huge donation if he wasn't
trying to bribe me back into his lie to keep his contract?
"Come on. Give him another chance. He's been falling for you since
the day he knocked you on your ass," she says with a smile. "Don't
forget that he needs to keep his job because he might have a child to
support soon."
"And hurry. The Wildcats' season is in your hands," the guy jokes.
"Fine. I'll go try to talk him out of quitting. For the fans and ...
possibly his child. But that's it."
"We can drive you to help you get through security. I have a press
pass." Lacy jumps up and I relent.
Zack

I cleaned out my locker and loaded up everything in my car before
sitting down in the driver seat to call my dad. I didn't want him to hear
it from someone else. I wouldn't bother calling my mom since I'm
sure she'd be ecstatic. From little league she's tried to talk me out of
playing football, saying it was too dangerous, and the concussions
were causing more damage than the doctor's admitted.
"Hey, son. How's it going?" my dad answers.
"Hey, um, have you got a minute?" I ask. My dad's a busy pediatrician
in Tallahassee, Florida, the same town I grew up in, but he always
takes a few minutes to talk when I call. I miss my parents, but Florida
no longer feels like my home. I've been living in North Carolina since
my freshman year of college and this is where I want to stay.
"Of course. Something wrong?"
"Um, I, ah, I'm getting ready to walk away from my contract."
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."
"I'm giving up football. I fucked up and have basically been on
probation with Jerry for a few weeks now. I used the woman that I
really care about to make management happy, so I think this is the
only way I can show her that she's more important to me."
"Wow. Have you received any new concussions that I don't know
about?" he asks, making me smile.
"No. I'm completely coherent."

"Even down here I've seen the pictures of you two. You look happy
with her."
"I am. I was."
"Well, I know how important football is to you, so if she's more
important...then I guess you're making the right decision."
I blow out my breath in relief at his understanding and acceptance.
"Thanks, Dad. I wanted to tell you first, before you saw it on TV."
"Too bad you can't have both, then you'd have it all. You sure you
won't regret your decision?"
"Maybe, but I'd definitely regret losing her."
"All right, as long as you've thought through your decision. You know
your Mom and I just want you to be happy."
"Thanks. Tell Mom hi and I love her."
"Will do. So when are we going to meet this woman?"
"If I can actually convince her to forgive me then I'll fly her down
soon. If not... I'll probably still come home."
"Good. See you soon. Love you, Zack."
"Love you too, Dad."
I end the call and climb out of my car to head inside the stadium.
Decision made, sitting outside of Jerry's office, waiting for him to
finish up his conference call, I feel surprisingly calm.

I have my phone in my hand about to call Dean and break the news to
him when the office door opens and Natalie walks in. Wait, what is
she doing here?
"Natalie?" I ask, jumping up from the waiting room seat. Her eyes are
still red but she doesn't seem as angry as she was yesterday. She looks
sad and I hate knowing I'm the one that caused it.
"Zack, what the hell is wrong with you? You can't do this," she says.
"Yes I can. You're worth more to me than playing a sport, and I was
stupid not to realize it sooner. I'm so sorry I wasn't honest with you
and that I hurt you. I want you to give me another chance."
"I don't want you to quit football, but I can'L.I just can't give you
another chance. All this time...you lied to me about everything," she
says with a sniffle.
"Not everything," I assure her. "Yes, I admit that I did lie to you, but
the way I feel about you is real."
She shakes her head in disagreement. "I'll never know what was real
and what was fake...and those doubts...I can't," she says as a tear
snakes down her cheek.
"Ask me anything and I swear I'll tell you the truth."
"Why did you ask me out the first time?"
This is it, my one Hail Mary pass before it's game over. My only shot
to convince her to forgive me.
"Because I needed to find a non-slut before Sunday's

game to date for weeks if I wanted to keep my eighty million dollar
contract. I needed to spin some good PR with one woman after a
gold-digger blackmailed me and Jake. She had a picture of me and
him naked after we, um...had a threesome with her."
"So when you originally asked me out...it was all fake just so you
could keep your contract?"
"Until you shot me down...then I don't know why, but I just had to try
and win you over. And I really wanted to fuck you, too. I was honest
to God attracted to you from the second we met."
"And offering to do the calendar?"
"Fake so that you'd agree to go out several times with me in public."
"Kissing me in my office?"
"Real. That wasn't for anyone else but us."
"The concert?"
"Fake for press, except for kissing you. I couldn't stand the thought of
never seeing you again."
"The Comedy Zone?"
"Fake in that I wanted our picture taken, but being with you that night
in my car was real, even though I felt guilty afterwards."
"Carowind's?" she asks, wiping the moisture from her cheeks.
"Fake because I knew there'd be more pictures, but I

really did want to spend a whole day with you. I knew it was our last
date and I wasn't ready for us to end. That morning was real."
"Tickets and exposure at the first football game?"
"Fake and for the cameras."
"Halftime?" she asks in a hiccup when the tears fall faster.
"Real, and, Natalie, I promise you every second after that was real.
There was nothing else for the press after they asked about us that
day. If I'd known about your past...I wouldn't have done this to you."
"Inviting me to your house?"
"Real. There may have been paparazzi outside the gates, but that had
nothing to do with why I invited you over. They were trying to catch
me cheating on you, even though I already knew I didn't want anyone
else. Not because I was trying to keep my contract but because I was
falling hard for you. I wanted the first time I made love to you to be in
my bed. And you knowthat was real."
"Jake said you screwed some girl while we were..."
"Not while we were together. Her name is Addison. We kissed, and I,
ah, went down on her, but nothing else happened because I couldn't
stop thinking about you. It was that Friday night a few minutes after I
saw you leave with that guy."
"I trusted you," she says, barely a whisper.

"I know and I'm so damn sorry. I will do whatever it takes to prove to
you that I'll never lie to you again if you just give me another chance."
"S that why you made the donation to the foundation? As a bribe to
get me back?"
"God no," I assure her. "That money wasn't meant for you."
"It wasn't?" she asks.
"No. It's for the foundation to use to help save the lives of girlfriends,
fiancées, and wives for all the men who love them. I may have only
known you a few weeks but I already love you so much that losing
you would completely destroy me."
"You love me?" she gasps and her sad, red eyes widen.
"Real. So real that I can't imagine my life without you. I need you,
Natalie. There's like this intense gravitational pull I feel toward you. I
can't resist it, and I don't want to even try. It's so damn strong that I
actually collided into you four years ago. That video...the photo of us
on your wall? f that's not what love at first sight looks like then there's
no such thing."
"That's how I've felt about you for four years. It's probably why I
moved to this city and ended up in this stadium."
After seeing that photo in her apartment I knew without a doubt that
she loved me, and had loved me for years. Not my money, or my
fame, or my looks. She was smart enough

to figure out that we were meant to be together. We're soulmates that
will keep finding our way back to each other no matter what. I hate it
took me so long to realize it for myself.
"Then you can't give up on me now," I tell her. "Not when I finally
know how you've felt all along."
"No, I can't, because I love you too and even if I didn't, I wouldn't
want you to give up football for me. Alex Marshall sucks."
"Thank God," I say on an exhale, pulling her into my arms and
crushing her against me.
"Um, Zack? s there a reason I'm seeing this PDA?" Jerry asks from
his office door.
I turn around and make the introductions, not the least bit embarrassed
by getting caught with Natalie in my arms. "Mr. Tucker, I'd like you
to meet my real girlfriend, Natalie Adair. Natalie this is Jerry Tucker,
owner of the Wildcats."
Jerry smiles at Natalie and holds out his hand which she shakes. "Nice
to meet you, Natalie. I'm glad Zack finally found a nice girl like you."
"Thank you, sir. I'm a huge Wildcats' fan," she tells him.
"Natalie knows football like you wouldn't believe," I confirm.
"Huh. And didn't I read something about you being a cheerleader in
college?" he asks.
"Yes, sir."

"You ever try out for the Lady Cats?" That was the name of our
cheerleading group.
"No, sir. I retired my pom-poms."
"Well, I think our squad could use some of your goodness rubbing off
on them. Let me know if you're interested, maybe even in some sort
of managerial role."
"Natalie is actually interested in photojournalism, and more
specifically, sports," I tell him.
"Oh really? Well then we'll have to get you down on the sidelines."
"Thank you, sir. I'd love that," Natalie replies with a smile.
That's right where she belongs, down on the field with
me.
"Was there anything else?" Jerry asks, looking between the two of us
then down at the watch on his wrist. "Don't you have a plane to catch
for tomorrow's game?"
"That's all, sir. Thank you for your time," Natalie replies as she grabs
my hand and tugs me out the door.
"Thanks, Jerry," I call out as we leave his office.
I owe that man my life.

Epilogue
Five years later...
Ten seconds on the clock, no timeouts, and the score is fourteen to
ten. A field goal won't do. We need a touchdown to win. On first and
goal, the ball is at the Washington Wolves' twenty yard line, and
there's only time for one play, maybe two at most.
I'm in the shotgun formation where my wife says I perform the best.
She's right. I read the defense and call out the snap count to the
offensive line. Simpson hikes the ball to me on my count and then my
feet are moving backwards and my eyes are searching, hoping
somebody will get open. Thankfully Jake runs the cross route
perfectly, losing his defender at the five yard line. I haul back and
throw the pass with a perfect spiral. You can feel the collective gasp
of everyone in the stadium as we all wait and watch to see if he'll
make the catch.
Jake goes up in the air and the ball hits him dead center on his chest.
Hold on to it! Hold on to it! I chant over and over in my head until
both of his feet come down in bounds. The momentum of hitting the
ground so hard causes the ball in

his hands to momentarily bobble, but he secures it and tucks it under
his arm. Jake takes off, and has to stretch the ball over the end zone's
orange pylon right as the safety tackles him and the clock buzzes.
Everyone looks to the closest referee waiting for his signal. Was he in
or out? Did he make it? When both of the refs arms go straight up in
the air chaos erupts in the indoor stadium.
Touchdown!
Everyone screams and jumps up and down celebrating our win every
way possible. I find Jake and lift him in the air, thanking him for
making the catch that sealed the deal. We're surrounded by our
teammates a second later, hugging us and laughing, unable to believe
we've made it. Together we've just done something every football
player dreams of doing, but only a few ever manage to accomplish.
Cameras with bright lights and microphones are shoved into my face.
Confetti and balloons in our team colors of black and blue rain down
on the entire field.
"How does it feel to win your first Super Bowl?" someone asks me.
"Zack, do you think you'll be named MVP?"
"How badly did you hurt your shoulder after the sack in that last
series?"
Question are being fired at me, one right after another while my eyes
search the crowd of people rushing onto the

field. She's so small it's hard to spot her tiny frame. But Natalie and I
have our own way of just knowing how to always find each other. I
turn around and there she is. Wearing my jersey that has "My Lucky
Charm" written in faded black marker. She's so damn gorgeous,
smiling brighter than the sun.
I push my way through the crowd until she's in front of me, easily
ignoring everyone else around us.
"Yay, Daddy! You won!" Two-year-old Sophie squeals when I reach
down and grab her and Natalie in a crushing hug. I hoist our beautiful
daughter up on my shoulders, so she can see above the crowd while I
kiss my beautiful wife.
Every day I thank the cancer gods for bringing her back to me, and
pray for them to keep on staying the hell away from her. So far so
good.
"Congratulations! We're so proud of you, Daddy!" Natalie yells over
the chaos when our lips finally pull apart. "Now let me get a couple of
picture of you and Sophie."
Taking a few steps back she lifts her camera and snaps a few photos.
There's so many people crowding onto the field that I panic when a
few jostle into her.
"Be careful down here. I don't want anyone to bump into you and hurt
the baby," I tell her, closing the distance between us to put an arm
protectively around her. I flatten my other palm over the number
fourteen stretched tightly over her swollen belly. I can feel our son
going wild in there, just like everyone else in the stadium.

I love how beautiful Natalie is when she's pregnant with my babies. I
already know that two will never be enough, and just hope I can
convince her to have a few more after Braxton is born.
"Stop worrying and enjoy your moment," she says, dismissing my
concern.
"What moment?" I ask, reaching up to grasp my daughter's leg tighter
and pulling Natalie closer to me, as far as her pregnant belly and my
pads will allow. "Winning the Super Bowl?"
"Well, yeah." She laughs like it's obvious.
"Oh, baby, this is absolutely nothing compared to winning you," I tell
her, unable to help my smile when I brush her lips with mine again.
###

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COMING SOON FROM LANE HART

Look for Joe's book in September 2015

A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel
L A N E H A R T

MMA Middleweight World Champion, Jackson "Jax" Malone has
just entered the fight of his life. Known for his viciousness in the
cage, and his playboy ways out of it, Jax is arrested and charged with
a brutal rape. The thought of spending decades in prison is one of the
few things that actually scares the shit out of this cocky fighter.
Newly admitted attorney Page Davenport is willing to do anything it
takes to get out from under her father's thumb and finally prove
herself in his law firm. Anything except represent the infamous
miscreant, Jackson "The Mauler" Malone. Despite her protests, Page
is powerless to avoid becoming the sacrificial lamb, the token female,
who will be the face of the violent, angry Neanderthal's defense team.
Jax is a bad boy with a temper, doing whatever the hell he wants in
life while flipping the bird at all his haters. Page is the prim and
proper rich debutante her parents want her to be. They've been pulling
her strings, telling her what to do, where to go to school, what to
wear, and even who she should marry.
Page and Jax struggle to work together, engaging in a knockdown
drag-out fight for dominance. When they finally stop taking swings at
each other, they're both surprised to realize that sometimes first
impressions are completely wrong. In fact, opposites really do seem to
attract. However, there are lines that attorneys and their clients can
never cross, if Page wants to keep her license to practice

law.
Will Page risk it all and submit to the cocky fighter? Or will Jax's
temper and jealousy prove too much for her to take on outside of the
courtroom?
Either way, one thing is for sure - neither Page nor Jax are going
down without a fight. In the end, the secret for them to find heaven
may be to battle their way through hell first.
Excerpt from Chapter One of Jax
"Mr. Malone, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Page Davenport.
Page, this is Martin Malone and his son. I'm sure you'll recognize
Jackson Malone from his outstanding MMA career," my dad says
when he makes the introductions.
"Nice to meet you," I lie as I hold out my hand to the older man.
Shaking it he gives me a polite nod of his head while assessing me.
He's not looking at me in a creepy, sexual way, but it's more of a look
that says, Is she really old enough and experienced enough to
represent my son? Of course not, and everyone in the building knows
that.
My curious eyes finally dance around the older man to the one
standing behind him. The spacious conference room that can easily
accommodate ten ego-inflated

attorneys suddenly feels too small. Intimidating doesn't even begin to
describe the vibe this man is putting off. He practically comes with
his own flashing neon sign over his coal colored pompadour cut,
shaved close on the sides, that says in big, bright letters, "Danger!
Stay back at least 100 feet!"
It isn't necessarily the guy's size that makes him scary, even though
he's built like a tank at more than six feet tall with a wide, muscular
build. But when you add in his black bottomless-pit eyes and tight
unshaven jaw...he looked like Mount Vesuvius about to erupt.
Violence and tension radiate off of him in waves that are almost
visible. In nothing special faded jeans and a plain white tee
contrasting with his tan golden skin, he's absolutely, without a doubt,
the most...scrumptious looking man I've ever laid eyes on. His mug
shot plastered all over the television and internet don't do him justice.
How the heck is it physically possible for someone who lets other
people punch him in the face for a living still look like...like...a
gorgeous Abercrombie & Fitch model?
And how can someone so bad ass and angry still come across
as...well, I'd never actually say this to his face, but pretty?
The man is nothing like the type of guy I'm usually attracted to. He's
missing the requisite white collar and tie. I have a feeling that the
brute before me never wears either. Instead of clean cut, he's ruggedly
and dangerously

handsome, singularly able to make women stop, drop their panties,
and roll over...and cause men to run away like cowards with their
penises tucked between their legs. Speaking of penises...
"Page?" my father's commanding voice interrupts my perusal, that has
gone on far too long and much further south than is professional.
He is a monster, not a sexy man you should be wanting a life size
poster of for your bedroom! My inner sanity finally surfaces and
reminds me of the rape and strangling he's charged with. Yes, that's
exactly what I need! A reminder of why he's here and the horrible
thing he did.
"Nice to meet you," I lie again, intentionally not offering him my
hand to shake. It would've been a serious stretch to reach him across
the table anyways, I tell myself.
The dangerous man's dark, seemingly soulless eyes assess every
single inch of my body. And, unlike his father, his gaze is definitely
sensual. He's looking at me like I'm a brand new flavor of Ben &
Jerry's. One that he can't wait to dip his...spoon into, gorge himself on
until he scrapes the very bottom of the carton, and then lick the
container completely clean with his tongue.
Even if I had looked at him the same way, his perverted stare helps
cool my overheating hormones, seeing him for the pig that he is.

PRE-ORDER THE FIRST BOOK IN THE COCKY CAGE
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lane Hart was born and raised in North Carolina. She continues to
live in the south with her husband, two daughters, and several pets
named after Star Wars characters.
When Lane's not writing or reading sexy novels, she can be found in
the summer on the beaches of the east coast, and in the fall watching
football, cheering on the Carolina Panthers.
Connect with Lane:
Twitter:

https ://twi tte r. co m/W ritingfromHart

Facebook:

http://www.facebook.com/lanehartbooks

Website:

http://www.lanehartbooks.com