Catching the Player (Hamilton Family) Read online

  Her cheeks were flushed and her lips parted, and she was breathtaking.

  “Me, too,” he said, not really thinking about the champagne.

  “No, it didn’t. You didn’t even jump.”

  No, he hadn’t. But she was making him just as jumpy as her, he was just better at hiding it. It was kind of his job to hide his nerves from his fans and his teammates, who looked to him as a leader.

  Without saying anything, he poured them both a glass of bubbling champagne, then handed her the fuller one. Her fingers brushed his, and it took all his control not to let his touch linger even longer. He hadn’t come here to seduce and forget her. He’d come to get to know her. To thank her.

  Then he’d leave…without touching her.

  Lifting his glass, he said, “To our successes.”

  “To our successes.” She clinked her glass against his then lifted it to her pink, lush mouth. He could see the tip of her tongue as she drank. He’d never been so jealous of an inanimate object as he was of her glass right now. After lowering the drink, she licked her lips and asked, “Were you closer to one of your siblings than the others?”

  He took a sip, thinking that over. “As kids, Anna or Chris were closest to me, I guess. But now, I’d say I’m closer to the others, and they’re all about equal. I even helped Eric get his girl back a few months ago.”

  “How?” she asked, walking into the living room.

  He followed her, grabbing the champagne for easy refilling purposes. “Long story short, they were sleeping together and swore not to let it get serious because she was moving. Well, it got serious, and instead of telling her he loved her, he let her leave for Texas because it was ‘the right thing to do.’”

  “Wow.” She sat and leaned on her knees, pushing her breasts up. Any other girl, he’d think she did it to entice him, but with her, he doubted it. She seemed completely unaware of her charms, and how easy it would be for her to seduce him if she wanted. “What did you tell him to do?”

  After setting the bottle of champagne down on a newspaper, he sat beside her, keeping a respectable distance between them to remind himself that he wasn’t there to get her naked…even though he wanted to. “I told him to stop letting the love of his life leave, and to go win her back. So, he got out of his contract and moved to Texas for her.”

  She blinked, her mouth parted. “He did?”

  “Yep, left his dream job and everything.”

  “He must really love her,” she said slowly.

  “I guess so,” he said.

  She eyed him. “You’re not big on love?”

  How had she figured that out? Was it in his tone? “Love is good.”

  “But you don’t want it.”

  He shrugged. “I have it. My parents. My siblings. My team. My fans.” He took a sip, then added, “To seek out more is just greedy, and to be honest, I don’t want more.”

  She nodded, pursing her lips. “Why not?”

  If anyone else asked, he’d give a generic answer, like: too many beautiful people out there to commit to one for the rest of my life. But with her, he wanted to be honest. “I love football. Love the game. The travel. The challenge. The wins. Even the losses. I love everything about it.”

  She played with a piece of her hair. “And…?”

  “And if I fell in love with someone else, something I don’t even think I’m capable of, then that would take away from the love I have for the game. It would pull me out of it. I’d start to resent the travel, the time away from home, and I’d lose my love for football.” He set his glass down, trying to find the right words to express what he was trying to say. “I’ve seen it happen, time and time again. A player is on a path to MVP, and everyone is buzzing about him, but then he meets a girl, gets married, has kids…and all he wants is to rush home to his family every night. He stops training hard. Stops doubling up on gym time. And slowly but surely, he fades away.”

  She set her glass down, too, turning so her leg was folded under her. It made her dress ride up her thigh, something he tried really hard not to notice. He failed. Horribly. “That’s not fair, though. Plenty of good players are married and still on the top of their game.”

  “Sure they are.” He shrugged. “But lots aren’t, too, and to be honest, that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course.” She bit her lip. “So, after you retire…would you be open to the idea of love then?”

  “I can’t say I really think about it. I’ve never been one to want someone with me, and I don’t feel like I’m missing out on something because I don’t have a partner at my side.” He twisted his lips. “I’ve never wanted those things. Family. Love. Marriage. I don’t think I ever will.”

  “I…I see.” She reached out for her glass, but he hurried to beat her to it and hand it off. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he murmured. “How about you? You want that special someone?”

  Licking her lips, she glanced away, her cheeks flushed. “I guess, yeah. I haven’t exactly been out there, dating or anything. It’s been five years since I had a partner, as you called it.”

  He drank, taking a moment to reflect on that. “May I ask a personal question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why so long?” he asked slowly. “What happened?”

  “Uh…well, to be honest, it was because of a guy.”

  “It’s always because of a guy,” he said drily.

  “Yeah, I guess.” She focused on the fireplace, even though it wasn’t lit. He watched her. Her lashes were long and dark. “We started dating in high school. We chose the same college. Made plans. We were going to graduate and move in together, then get engaged after a year. Married a year after that. Kids two years later. Three—two boys and a girl.”

  Damn, he’d never sat and planned out his life like that. All he knew was that he wanted to play ball, and he wanted to do it alone. Hell, most of the time he had no clue what he was going to do when he woke up on his days off, let alone for his whole life. “That’s very…precise.”

  “I’m not a very impulsive person,” she said, stating the obvious.

  “I am. I don’t really plan out things besides plays.”

  “I plan everything. Overthink everything. Go through every single scenario and the hundreds of ways it could end before making a choice. I don’t jump into anything. I walk slowly, carefully, and am always ready to back out if needed.”

  He nodded, studying her, letting her gather her thoughts.

  She smiled sadly. “Ever since he left, I stopped living. I haven’t done anything risky or even slightly adventurous in a very long time.”

  The way she said it made him think she was trying to change that. “Why not?”

  “Because of him, I guess. And me. And…life.”

  He shook his head. “What did he do to you?”

  “Nothing, really. Like I said, I overthink everything. One day, he just had enough of me thinking all the time.” She bit her lower lip. “He said I was boring him to death, and that if I ever decided to stop overthinking every single thing, to come find him. If I ever decided to step outside of my comfort zone, and maybe decide to be fun for once in my life, then he’d consider taking me back. Until then…he’d be with Becky.”

  He winced. “Who’s Becky?”

  “Some girl with big boobs and even bigger hair.” She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Someone who wasn’t afraid to live. So, I decided, then and there, if I was so boring that I could make the man who’d sworn to love me for the rest of my life turn away from me…I just wouldn’t date at all. I’d stay on my own. Take care of myself. And do things my way.”

  He shook his head. “The man was clearly a fool. You’re not—”

  “Yes, I am. Or, I was.”

  “And now?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Now I want to live. Right before I met you, I promised that I’d s
top hiding behind my past and the asshole who hurt me. I’m ready to move on. To try new things. To get back out there.”

  His chest tightened. “As in, dating.”

  “Yep. That, and other things.”

  The idea of her going out with some faceless dude didn’t sit well with him. The frustration was the same as if he’d just blown a game-winning pass. “What kind of other things?”

  “Yoga. Hair. Dancing.” She laughed and held her hand out. “Anything, really. Everything. I want to do it all.”

  He eyed her hand. It was so small and dainty. He wanted to find the man who had held that hand, who had broken her heart and then let go of her, and tell him he was a fool. If he were any other man, if he actually wanted to be with someone in the way she deserved, he’d grab that hand right now and hold on as tightly as he could, and he’d never stop. Any man that was lucky enough to call her his should never let go.

  Too bad that man couldn’t be him.

  Chapter Six

  Wyatt Hamilton was in her living room, talking with her about things she normally had to buy a magazine to read about, and he seemed completely content to be doing so, and not even the slightest bit bored with her and her tiny home and sad stories about her ex and her inability to live her life to its fullest.

  What was happening?

  Who was she?

  “I hope you get all those things,” he said after a short period of silence. “You deserve them, and you deserve more than that man gave you.”

  She smiled. What did one say to that? She had no idea, so she settled for: “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” He drank his champagne, studying her living room. “Nice place you have here.”

  “Thanks.” Ugh. She sounded like a broken record now. She tried to think of something witty to say, when all she could think was Oh my God, Wyatt Hamilton’s thigh is touching my knee! She told herself to pull it together, and said, “You’re so hot.”

  Well. That was a fail.

  Way to go, Kassidy.

  He choked on his drink, coughing.

  She patted him on the back, unable to ignore how hard his muscles were under her fingers. She leaned in, wincing because she’d almost killed the star quarterback of her home team with her off the wall statement. “Sorry, too much?”

  “No,” he rasped. “I just…choked.”

  “Like you did with the Patriots last year?”

  His jaw fell, and he placed a hand on his chest. “Ouch. That hurts, Kassidy. It really hurts.”

  “Sorry,” she said, not really the least bit sorry. “I was mad you lost that game. I had a bet on it.”

  His eyes flashed with something that could only be described as heat. “You mean you actually bet on me sometimes?”

  “Most of the time,” she admitted.

  “Nice to know.” Slowly, he reached out and touched her cheek, but immediately pulled back. “I’ll try not to let you down again.”

  She trembled, way too distracted by his touch to actually pay attention to his words at first. He’d touched her. Why had he touched her? “Uh…thanks.”

  Broken record time again.

  “And…” He smiled and shifted back, putting more distance between them. “I think you’re pretty hot, too.”

  “He says as he backs away from me,” she muttered cheekily.

  He laughed again. “Kassidy…”

  “Sorry.” She winced because she’d basically just called him out on lying about finding her attractive for the third time. What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t he noticed she was a lost cause and left yet, just like her ex had? She refused to call him by his name. He didn’t deserve it. He was like Voldemort. His name shall never be spoken. “I’m horrible at this.”

  He cocked his head. “At what?”

  “Dating. Talking. Small talk.”

  He stiffened, and it was then that she realized she’d called this a date. She was an idiot. This wasn’t, and never would be, a date. She’d told herself that enough times. “I mean, not that this is a date, it’s not, but we’re sitting here, having the type of conversations one has on a date, and you’re hot, and you’re looking at me with those bright blue eyes—like, seriously, how are they so pretty? It’s not fair—and all I can think is that you’re here with me, and you’re so nice and cute and why can’t I stop talking—?”

  He pressed his finger to her lips, and she stopped talking immediately. His skin against her mouth was electrifying. There was no other way to describe it. “Shh. My turn.”

  She nodded, saying nothing.

  To be honest, she was incapable of talking right now.

  “This is as much of a date as anything else ever would be. I like you, Kassidy. I’m not gonna lie. You’re gorgeous, and I’d like nothing more than to show you the best night of your life.”

  She licked her lips, her heartbeat picking up speed at that last part. “But…?”

  “But I won’t, and I’ll tell you why.” He set his glass down and took hers out of her hand before cupping her face with both hands. His skin on hers made her tremble. “If I did that, if I listened to my body and took you to your room and stripped that dress off you inch by inch, I would give you a night of pleasure. A night of sex. Then I’d walk away, and you’d never see me again because that’s what I do. And you…” His grip on her shifted, and he moved imperceptibly closer to her despite his words. “You deserve more than that, Kass.”

  She shivered, not so sure he was right. She would be perfectly content with a night in his arms, thank you very much. “But—”

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t do this, though.”

  Without further warning, he closed the distance between them, taking his time so she could reject him if she wished. As if. His thumb on her lip had been electrifying, like a bolt of lightning, but his mouth on hers was a downright, full-blown thunderstorm. As his mouth moved over hers, he ran his thumb over her cheek, caressing her gently.

  That small movement, that touch, was somehow more intimate than the kiss itself. It was like he cherished her, and cared for her, which was ridiculous because he barely even knew her. Man, he was good. Too good. She never wanted the kiss to end, but as with all good things, it did.

  He pulled back, resting his forehead on hers.

  “You’re an amazing woman, Kassidy Thomas, and I wish nothing but the best for you.” He shook his head slightly. “But I’m not it, so I refuse to allow myself to do anything more than appease my curiosity about what you taste like, and now that I found out…I’ll never forget.”

  She hesitated, licking her lips. She could still taste him there on her mouth. “And what did I taste like?”

  “Heaven. Pure heaven.”

  She sucked in a breath. “That’s what I was going to say about you.”

  “Copycat,” he teased, touching the tip of her nose playfully before pulling back to a more appropriate distance. She missed his touch immediately. “Thank you for everything.”

  She blinked. “Are you leaving?”

  “I probably should, before I do something we both regret.”

  “I don’t think I’d regret it,” she mumbled under her breath.

  He smiled sadly and touched her chin. “You would, once I left.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.” He leaned back on the cushions, his forehead wrinkling. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t spend the night together, without the mindless fucking.”

  Laughing, she gave herself a second by taking a quick, large gulp of liquid fortitude. “What, exactly, are you proposing?”

  “I want to help you.”

  Her mind went to a dirty, dirty place. “Help me do what?”

  “Live.”

  Yep. Now it was really there. “Live, how, exactly?”

  “Well, I can’t do everything for you or with you in one night—not to mention, I have no idea what you want to do to your hair or how to do it—but I happen to love yoga, and dancing, too.”

  She choked on her dr
ink. “Yoga?”

  “Absolutely. It’s great for core strength.”

  “Let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “You want to spend the night with me, not naked, but doing…yoga?”

  “Or dancing.”

  “Dancing,” she squeaked, repeating him again.

  He nodded, taking her glass out of her hand for the second time that night. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “Right now?” she blurted out.

  Catching her hand, he tugged her to her feet and didn’t let go. “There’s no time to waste.”

  “Why not?” she asked, confused.

  “Because we might not be having sex, but my rule still applies. One night. One time, then I leave, and I don’t come back.” He touched her shoulder, skimming his fingers over her arm. She shivered, swaying closer. “I can’t come back, Kass.”

  “Why not?” She licked her lips. “I mean, if we’re not…you know…then what’s the harm? If we’re just friends, then what’s the worst that could happen?”

  “I could want more,” he admitted, his brow wrinkled as he pulled her into his arms, one hand holding hers, the other on her lower back. “With you, it would be easy to want more.”

  She hesitated, her hand on his biceps. “And that would be so bad?”

  “Yes,” he said without a hint of doubt. “Ready?”

  She nodded, a pang of pain shooting through her, which made no sense at all. Why was she sad that Wyatt Hamilton had admitted to finding her attractive, and that he could want something with her? Maybe because he also said wanting her would be bad. It wasn’t too crazy that she was sad about that, right? “Wait, we don’t have music.”

  “I don’t need any.”

  And then he swept her in a circle, moving around the coffee table effortlessly and with a grace she’d only ever seen him portray on the field. He moved with her in his arms like he’d been made to dance instead of throw a ball, and that only made him about a million times more attractive than before.

  “You take lessons?” she asked, breathlessly, as he twirled her around her tiny home.

  “Had to. My mom made me.” He dipped her, holding her close to his abs so she didn’t fall. This was it. This was where she wanted to die. Pressed against Wyatt Hamilton’s abs. “She said it would be as important as a well-rounded education would be in the future.”