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His Seduction Game Plan
Katherine Garbera


After being falsely accused of murder ten years ago, pro football player turned CEO Hunter Caruthers is finally getting closer to the truth. Did his coach frame him? The key to securing the evidence Hunter needs: seducing his coach’s daughter, Ferrin Gainer.Hunter wants answers, he wants revenge…but soon he wants Ferrin most of all. Will his strategy backfire? For her part, Ferrin can’t help falling hard for the legendary Hunter Caruthers. Until the full scope of his secret agenda against her father is revealed, leaving her wondering if what felt so real was only a game…









“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”


She tipped her head to the side, pretending to think it over.

“I guess so.”

“You guess so?”

“You said it yourself. I’m used to classy.” She didn’t want to make this too easy for him. With that pretty face and muscled body, she doubted he ever had to work hard to get a date.

“Oh, I’ll give you classy, Ferrin,” he said. “You just wait and see. I’ll be back at six.”

“I’ll be ready at six thirty,” she said.

He threw his head back and laughed. “You’re a minx.” Doubtful. But she was tired of the same-old, same-old, and Hunter promised something different.

“Six thirty, then.”

She led him down the hall and opened the front door, leaning back as he brushed past her. But he stopped and put his hand on her chin.

Dinner suddenly seemed like more than just a break in the routine. She suspected he might want something from her but that was okay. She wanted something from him too. A chance to remember she was young and single. Maybe make a memory in California that wasn’t laced with guilt and disappointment.

* * *

His Seduction Game Plan is part of the Sons of Privilege series by USA TODAY bestselling author Katherine Garbera




His Seduction

Game Plan

Katherine Garbera







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


USATODAY bestselling author KATHERINE GARBERA is a two-time MAGGIE


Award winner who has written more than seventy books. A Florida native who grew up to travel the globe, Katherine now makes her home in the Midlands with her husband, two children and a very spoiled miniature dachshund. Visit Katherine on the web at www.katherinegarbera.com (http://www.katherinegarbera.com), or catch up with her on Facebook and Twitter.


I know I mention them often in my dedication, but this one is for my parents, David and Charlotte Smith, who raised me to believe I could do anything. They have always been incredibly supportive of my writing even though no one in our family had ever done anything in the creative arts and they had no idea if I could earn a living from it. I wouldn’t have been able to write if they hadn’t been there for me. I love you both very much.

Special thanks to my agent Amanda Leuck for always having my back.


Contents

Cover (#u359cda72-c2a5-51db-af71-88934759a019)

Introduction (#u404edc11-e292-5e2a-a00e-bfd968327197)

Title Page (#uddc055e4-b9ba-5981-8170-ad3ab28960e7)

About the Author (#ud2fe98aa-17a9-542d-a632-9fee74423bc0)

Dedication (#ua5d3cd9c-4d2b-5ecc-955b-bbb339d5e537)

One (#u21d7b51d-6080-52dd-91be-124d67920fae)

Two (#u33a409e5-9be2-54e8-888b-05e0fbd3fe4e)

Three (#u4e8e9637-d6a6-5037-bf07-636badb9df96)

Four (#uf8c97c7e-d9a3-5d30-bdfb-d1af3625f9df)

Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#ulink_2e6bb7bd-5b6a-51ca-ab69-c84005912b32)

“Hello, sunshine.”

Ferrin Gainer forced a smile at the man who most days barely recognized her. She’d never been close to her father. He’d lived for football and for the trophies he displayed proudly in their formal living room. Having a daughter had been a huge disappointment to him. Having one who flinched every time a football came flying through the air at her had been an embarrassment.

She’d barely seen him after her parents divorced when she was ten. She was vaguely aware that two of his players—his honorary sons—had been accused of murder some ten years ago when she’d been fifteen. But even that hadn’t made him want to bond with her. In fact, it had only been two heart attacks and a severe stroke that had made him reach out to her.

She was twenty-five and had hoped she’d be past the need for a bond with her father, but let’s face it, she wasn’t. She knew not all of her friends had good relationships with their families, but that was what she wanted for herself.

She and her mom were close. They talked to each other every day. Her mom hadn’t been a huge fan of Ferrin taking a sabbatical from her teaching job at the University of Texas and coming to California to take care of her father, but had understood it.

As a professor of psychology, Ferrin had put herself under the microscope a few times and what she saw...well, it made her mad. She should be able to move on but somehow she couldn’t. She didn’t want to accept the fact that this relationship was horribly broken.

She would fix it.

Dammit.

“Hey, Coach. How are ya feeling today?” she asked. When she was little she’d tried calling him Dad a time or two but he always insisted she call him Coach. Even before her parents divorced.

“I’m okay,” he said, slurring his words. The last stroke had seemed to sap his will. There was something inside him that seemed to be keeping him from recovering. She wondered if not being able to work out and stay physically fit for the first time in his life was affecting him.

She had no idea. He barely talked to her. She was tempted to leave him in the care of the two in-home nurses, but she didn’t want to be that kind of daughter.

And she felt guilty.

She knew if her mom were in the bed, well, Ferrin would be here no matter what. She owed at least as much to the man who’d given her half her DNA.

“That’s good to hear. It’s a beautiful day today so after breakfast, we’re going out to sit in the garden.”

“No.”

She ignored him and went to the windows to open the drapes. Coach liked to keep the room dark; she’d thought at first maybe he had some light sensitivity from the stroke but his doctors informed her he didn’t. The only thing keeping him in the dark was his desire to hide. It was as if there was something emotional inside that was causing him to retreat from the world.

She opened up one heavy drape and then the others. The Pacific Ocean was visible from Coach’s bedroom. The frothy surf contrasting with the deep blue water and the rolling waves promised relaxation. Something that had evaded her since the moment she’d arrived on the West Coast.

“Leave them,” he said again, slurring his words.

She hated hearing him like that. As estranged as their relationship had always been, she’d liked that her dad was strong. And he wasn’t anymore.

“Just while you eat your breakfast. Joy is bringing it up and I’m going to eat with you. You know I don’t like eating in the dark.”

Ferrin had found if she ate with her father then he finished most of his food. She suspected he ate so he didn’t have to talk to her, and she didn’t mind. The doctors said eating well and getting him out of the bed were the keys to his recovery. So she’d do whatever she had to.

“Fine.”

He sounded surly, which almost made her smile. At least he wasn’t pretending to sleep or ignoring her.

“You received another letter from the school yesterday. They are honoring you—”

“No.”

“No?” she asked, pushing the button on the bed that raised the back. The college had refitted his room with state-of-the-art medical equipment after the first stroke. And they’d hired Joy, the housekeeper, as well as two in-home nurses.

“I don’t want their guilt offering,” he said. His words were a lot clearer than they’d been earlier.

She adjusted the sheets over his lap, reached for his empty breakfast tray and placed it on the bed. “It’s not guilt.”

“How do you know?”

She knew guilt. “They’re honoring you, Coach, because you brought a lot of accolades to the school.”

And money.

Winning meant money and her father had been one of the winningest coaches in the history of the college.

“Where’s breakfast?” he asked, slurring again.

She went to the hall and signaled Joy to bring in the food. Joy set everything up and then left.

“I want you to think about accepting this honor,” Ferrin said as she ate her yogurt and fruit.

Her father had a difficult time eating but would accept no assistance from her. It was something she’d learned the hard way. He was slow lifting his right hand to his mouth and he chewed awkwardly. The left side of his face still wasn’t fully functional. But he tried.

“If I take it,” he said, looking up at her, his usually hazy green eyes almost clear, “then that means I’m not going back.”

She didn’t say anything.

He wasn’t going back. But maybe believing he could would help him recover.

“I’m not sure it means that, but we can talk about it later,” she said.

She should try to get some of his players to come up here and talk to him. That would cheer him up, and maybe hearing from the people he’d always wanted to spend time with would give her a key to understanding her father. A man who was still a stranger despite the past two weeks she’d spent living with him.

The doorbell rang as Joy was helping clean up the trays.

“I’ll get it,” Ferrin said, anxious to leave the doom of her father’s room.

* * *

Hunter Caruthers rolled up to the Carmel mansion in the middle of the afternoon. He’d spent the day in the dusty archive room at his alma mater, the University of Northern California, trying to find more evidence to clear his name in the murder of his college girlfriend ten years ago.

All he’d found was that he hadn’t outgrown his dust allergy. Even though his mom had always said he would. He was the youngest son of five from a big old Texas ranching family. His parents loved God, cattle, family and football. Since he’d never really loved the land the way his brothers had, Hunter had started playing football.

He’d found religion in football. He wasn’t trying to aggravate anyone—especially his mom—when he said that, but he saw the world through football. He got that if no one had his back and he was wide open, he’d get the pass and then probably have to face down two or three opposing players by himself. Or he might run like all the demons in hell were chasing him and make a touchdown—become the hero of the game.

Same thing in life.

Sometimes he had to be out in the open, exposed, to make the big plays. There had been one guy who always had his back. Kingsley Buchanan. King had never wavered. He’d always stood right by his side.

They’d been arrested—and then later released—for a crime they didn’t commit and that had sealed the bond between them. Guys always wanted to talk to him about his trophy-winning college career, women wanted to sleep with him because—and he was quoting here—they thought he was “dangerous,” and no one wanted to really get too close to him because questions still remained.

Who had killed Stacia Krushnik? What had Kingsley and Hunter done that night? And answers seemed to be getting harder and harder to come by.

In ten years memories had faded and evidence already in short supply had disappeared.

So that was why he’d parked his Bugatti in the circle drive of the one man who might have answers. The sun was bright—but hell, that was what living in California was all about. He’d been a bit of a hick when he’d first come here. The Pacific Ocean had awed him. Until then, he’d only ever been to the Gulf of Mexico and it didn’t hold a candle to the Pacific.

Now he had a house on the beach in Malibu and when he wasn’t up here in Carmel chasing down the past, he spent a lot of time on his deck watching the ocean.

He knocked on the door, pushing his sunglasses up on his head and scanning the area. The yard was nicely maintained, probably by a service. He’d never known anyone who really spent their time off working in their yard.

The door opened and an air-conditioned breeze wafted out and surrounded him. He put a friendly smile on his face.

“Hello, there,” he said. The woman who’d answered the door was tall—at least five-seven—and had long curly black hair that framed her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were a brilliant blue that was almost the color of the waves he’d surfed at dawn. She had a tentative smile on her face and her lips were full. She had a long neck and wore a thin summer-weight sweater over a pair of khaki-colored shorts that reached midthigh.

Her legs...

They were long, tan, slim. And he had an uncomfortable flash of them wrapped around his hips before he shook his head and stuck his hand out.

He was here for answers, not a woman.

“Hunter Caruthers,” he said. “I used to play football for Coach Gainer and I wondered if he might have some time to chat with me.”

“I’m Ferrin, Coach Gainer’s daughter,” she said. “Come inside and we can talk.”

“Coach has a daughter?”

“Yeah, he does. Be warned I’m nothing like him. Can’t catch, can’t throw, and it’s rumored I’m allergic to all sports.” She led him deeper into the house to a sunny kitchen.

“All sports?”

“As far as I can tell,” she said. There was a teasing note in her voice and the slightest bit of a twang that he recognized.

As they passed the den he noticed a trophy case on one wall as well as photos of Coach Gainer with celebrities, politicians and famous alums. The one Coach had taken with Kingsley and Hunter was notably absent.

“Can I get you a drink?” she asked as she gestured to the farmhouse table in the sunny breakfast nook.

“Um... I’d like to just see Coach,” Hunter said.

As cute as she was, Hunter was here on business and flirting with the coach’s daughter had dumb written all over it.

“We have to talk first,” she said.

“Lemonade talk or whiskey?”

She gave him a smile. “Lemonade. What kind of conversations have you had that require whiskey?”

He watched her as she went and filled two glasses with lemonade. “More than you want to know.”

She handed him a glass and sat down across the table from him. “Coach had a stroke earlier this year and I’m not sure what he’d be able to say to you.”

A stroke?

“Is he okay?”

“The doctors say he will be. I’m here to help him recover and get back on track, but he doesn’t like the medicine—never mind that. He has his good days and his bad days. I just don’t know if he will talk to you or not.”

Well, hell. There were times when Hunter thought he was never going to have any peace about Stacia. Maybe that was fair. Maybe the universe was leveling things out because he hadn’t been able to protect her.

He didn’t know. Even his mom with all her faith couldn’t help him figure this one out.

“Can I try?” Hunter asked at last.

“Yes,” Ferrin said.

He finished his lemonade, but noticed she didn’t touch hers and that she kept staring at him.

Hell.

Did she recognize him?

“I don’t know all of Coach’s players. When did you play for him?”

“Ten years ago,” he said. He really didn’t want to mention Stacia until he had a chance to talk to Coach.

“Were you one of his famous players?” she asked.

“Sort of?”

“NFL, right? Quarterback?” she asked.

“No, that was my friend Kingsley. I was a wide receiver,” he said. Apparently she didn’t recognize him from the Frat House Murder scandal.

“Dad will be happy to see you. Let me take you to him,” Ferrin said, leading the way out of the kitchen. He tried to keep his eyes on the framed team portraits that lined the wall next to the curving stairs but his gaze kept skipping back to her hips. Her clothing wasn’t at all come-hither, but the way she moved drew him.

She paused at the top of the stairs. “This is your team, right?”

He leaped up the last two steps and stood next to her. Yeah, that was them. Before everything had happened. He was standing next to Clive and Kingsley. God, he looked young.

And sappy. Who smiled that big for a group photo?

A guy who thought he was going to be a big-time NFL star and thought the world was his oyster, that’s who.

“That was a long time ago.”

She didn’t respond but continued walking down the hall to the last door on the left. She opened it and gestured for him to stay in the doorway.

“Coach?” she called. “You have a visitor.”

“Who is it, sunshine?” The words were slurred and as Ferrin pushed the door open further, Hunter noticed that the strong coach he remembered was now a shell of that man.

Sunshine? Coach had never seemed the type of man to give anyone a nickname. But he was seeing a different side of him.

“Hunter. He used to play football for you,” Ferrin said.

“Hunter Caruthers?”

“Yes, sir, he wants to talk to you,” Ferrin said. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll see him.”

* * *

Ferrin went downstairs to her father’s den to work while Hunter visited with the coach. She was working on an article for a small magazine that she wrote for, but the ocean just outside the French doors distracted her. So did the man upstairs. She knew few details about Hunter but his piercing green eyes and disheveled dark hair lingered in her mind as she tried to work. Instead of typing in the Word document she had opened she was tempted to launch her internet search engine and see what she could find out about him.

But she knew what she’d find. Athlete, NFL superstar. Probably had more confidence than Hercules after he’d done all of his labors. It didn’t matter that she’d come here to forget her last breakup and figure out her messed-up relationship with her dad. Her mom had made an offhand comment that perhaps by not resolving the past she was repeating it by dating men who were emotionally unavailable.

Ugh.

Her mom was right but still.

Hunter...he intrigued her.

Why?

Because being attracted to a former player was easier to deal with than her dad. She knew that. Her daddy issues weren’t all that exotic or hard to figure out.

It was boring here at her father’s house. Especially since he wouldn’t really see her except at mealtimes.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she quickly saved the article she’d been writing and jumped up to see who was coming.

Hunter.

He looked...well, almost angry.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“You seem upset,” she said.

“Upset? You don’t spend a lot of time with men, do you?” he asked.

“I do,” she said. “Not that it’s any of your business. Why would you say that?”

“Sorry, Ferrin, I’m pissed, not upset. I guess maybe you hang out with a classier group of men than I do.”

She doubted it. Stuffier maybe, but classier? She wouldn’t call the psych department classy. “Pissed, eh? Why? I told you he’s not really recovered yet.”

“I know,” Hunter said, then gave her a look that was, well, calculating. “Coach said that the college had sent everything from his office over here. I was wondering—could I take a look at it?”

“Why?”

“Well, the truth is, I needed some information I thought Coach had. He can’t remember the details but I know that they used to keep track of some of that stuff.”

“What stuff?” she asked.

“Videotapes from workouts at the gym and stuff from the practice field,” he said. “Would you consider letting me look through the boxes?”

“What did Coach say?”

“Nothing. He didn’t answer me when I asked. In fact, he didn’t say much while I was in there,” Hunter said.

That was strange, she thought. “I wonder why. He loves to relive the glory days.”

“I’m searching for some answers about things that happened in old college football days. I was really hoping Coach could help.”

The sincerity in his voice and that tightness in his stance communicated his determination. She thought it over. She had nothing else to do during the day while her father ignored her, and she’d always fancied herself a Nancy Drew type.

“Let me see what I can find out from him,” Ferrin said. She wanted to double-check with Coach and make sure he was okay with her letting Hunter go through his papers. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow?”

He came closer to her then and she noticed how green his eyes were. Like the fields on the first days of spring. He was handsome—there was no denying that—with his thick dark hair, classic features and lightly trimmed beard. His jaw was strong, his nose straight as a blade, his brows thick but not too thick. She wondered if he had the golden triangle proportions. He must. He was one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen.

“Couldn’t you ask now?” he asked, arching one eyebrow at her. “That way we could look and then I’ll take you to dinner.”

“Um...dinner?”

“Yes. I’d like to get know you better, Ferrin. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything fun. Plus I sort of owe you after being a bit of a jerk.”

Fun. He thought dinner with her would be fun. She sighed. “I’ll ask Coach tonight about the papers. He has physical therapy now and then he’ll be napping.”

“Fair enough. I shouldn’t have been so pushy,” Hunter said. He rubbed his hand over his chest, drawing her gaze to the way his shirt fit the muscles of his shoulders.

“So dinner. I’ll pick you up at six,” he said.

“You will? Shouldn’t you ask me?” She wasn’t sure what he was up to. It was clear that he’d changed gears when he realized she wouldn’t be budged. Even knowing he was probably trying to get something from her wasn’t enough to make her say no.

She hadn’t been out on a date in a long time. She’d broken up with Roger before Christmas, and really that relationship had been dying for at least three months before then. If nothing else, going out with Hunter would provide her some distraction from all the gloom that seemed to cling to this house, and to her while she was living in it.

“Apologies,” he said. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

She tipped her head to the side, pretending to think it over.

“I guess so.”

“You guess so?”

“You said it yourself. I’m used to classy,” she said. Even though she wasn’t. But she didn’t want to make this too easy for him. With that pretty face and muscled body, she doubted he ever had to work hard to get a date.

“Oh, I’ll give you classy, Ferrin,” he said. “You just wait and see. I’ll be back at six.”

“I’ll be ready at six thirty,” she said.

He threw his head back and laughed. “You’re a minx.”

Doubtful. But she was tired of the same-old, same-old, and Hunter promised something different.

“Six thirty then. Dress classy.”

“As if I’d do anything else,” she said, leading him down the hall. She opened the front door and leaned back against it as he brushed past her. He stopped and leaned down, putting his hand on the bottom of her chin.

Dinner suddenly seemed like more than just a break in the routine. She suspected he might want something from her but that was okay. She wanted something from him, too. A chance to remember she was young and single. Maybe make a memory in California that wasn’t laced with guilt and disappointment.


Two (#ulink_b7039bc2-2bb9-50da-b686-0778bd7c87ff)

Rocky Point Restaurant was famous in Carmel-by-the-Sea for its views of the Big Sur coastline. And since Ferrin had mentioned not being out of the house since she’d arrived, Hunter thought she’d enjoy being around other people. Plus, if he was completely honest, he really didn’t trust himself alone with her.

He might have gone to the Gainer house to see Coach and get answers, but tonight he was torn. Right now, his focus was on seeing Ferrin and a part of him—granted, a small part—didn’t even care if she let him see Coach’s boxes from his office.

She wore her thick, black curly hair down and it brushed the tops of her shoulders, which were left bare by her bohemian-style top. The blouse was a sea-blue color and she’d paired it with slim-fitting white jeans that made her legs seem even longer than they had earlier in those shorts. She had on heels, which made her only a few inches shorter than his six-two frame.

And as they walked from the parking lot to the restaurant, he was aware of people watching them. For a moment he forget he was Hunter Caruthers, famous for being accused of the Frat House Murder, and pretended people just noticed a good-looking couple.

But as soon as they got closer, people turned away and gave them a wide berth.

He cursed under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. I thought going out would put you at ease but I might have misjudged this. Everyone here knows me.”

She put her hand on his arm, her touch light and delicate. “That doesn’t matter. They don’t know the real you.”

“You don’t either,” he pointed out as he pulled her to one side before they entered the restaurant. “I wouldn’t blame you if you demanded I take you home.”

“You don’t know me either, Hunter. I’m not one to bug out on a date before it’s even started. I can handle a little gossip,” she said. “Are you one of those bad-boy players in the NFL?”

“Not really. I mean I do date pretty women and have a few rushing records, but I don’t see myself as a bad boy.” He wondered if she’d already Googled him and knew the scandal that followed him around like a dark cloud, driving him away from anything good. Damn, he was getting dramatic. It was just that ten years was too long to be on the run from the past. Even his dad, who made laconic seem chatty, had said maybe it was time to get answers, to find out what had really happened.

“Who would see himself as a bad boy?” she asked with a wink. “But you should know that no matter what else happens between us, I’m not someone for you to toy with.”

He reached around her to open the door. She entered the restaurant and walked over to the hostess.

He saw Coach’s inner steel in Ferrin. And she didn’t know who he was, which was reassuring and a bit worrying. He’d have to tell her. It had been a long time since he’d had to do that. In fact, most everyone he met already knew the stories if not the facts. He should come clean with her but from past experience, he knew once he told her about his connection to the Frat House Murder, she’d freeze up on him.

“Party of two?”

“I made a reservation,” he told the hostess. “Hunter Caruthers.”

The hostess nodded and led them to a table that overlooked the craggy cliffs that led down to the sandy beaches of Big Sur. He held Ferrin’s chair the way his mama had taught him to before sitting down himself.

They ordered drinks and dinner before Hunter remembered this wasn’t just a date. He had invited her tonight to soften her up and get her to give him a glimpse at Coach’s old files even though her old man wasn’t in an agreeable mood.

“So...”

“You want to see my dad’s old office stuff. I know. And I’m thinking about it. But my dad and I aren’t on the best of terms and doing something blatant to anger him without a good reason makes no sense to me.”

“Fair enough, ma’am. But what if I can convince you that he won’t mind?”

“I’d say you’re relying a little too heavily on that good old boy charm. I’m immune to that Texas ‘aw shucks’ attitude.”

He threw his head back and laughed. At Coach’s house, Ferrin had seemed...well, timid didn’t feel like the right word to describe this feisty woman. But she had been subdued earlier.

“What can I do to convince you?” he asked.

“Tell me something about Hunter that the world doesn’t know.”

“So nothing to do with football then,” he said.

“Yeah, nothing to do with football,” she said.

He couldn’t understand her attitude toward the sport. He’d always thought it would be great to grow up with a coach as a father. His own dad really only cared about the cattle, the land...their family legacy. But Hunter had never understood it.

“Why don’t you like football?” he asked.

She took a sip of her wine and glanced out toward the setting sun. He noticed the burnished copper in her dark hair and for the first time realized it was layered with different colors. The wind blew, stirring the strands against her face, and she put her glass down and looked over at him. Her blue eyes were serious and almost sad.

“I could never compete with football or the players in my dad’s eyes. So I didn’t even try. It’s not that I don’t like football it’s just—”

“You hate it,” he said.

“Hate is really a strong word.”

“Not for a passionate woman,” he said. “I get it. I feel that way about cattle. My family has a big spread in the Hill Country and my brothers all love the land. Or most of them do—one of my brothers is a surgeon. But damned if I didn’t hate ranching from...well, from birth, I imagine.”

“So you played football?”

“Well, ma’am, I am from Texas.”

“I could tell,” she said.

“What about you? I’m pretty sure I heard a bit of twang when you talk.”

“I teach at UT Austin.”

“Let me guess. Literature,” he said.

“Wrong. I’m a psychology lecturer.”

“Wrong? Good thing we didn’t wager on it,” he said.

She laughed. “Good thing. I bet you’re not used to losing.”

The mantle of the past fell heavy on his shoulders. He had only really lost once and he’d done it bigger than life when Stacia had been killed and he’d been blamed for her murder.

“No one gets used to losing,” he said.

She put her hand on his where it lay on the table and squeezed. She was very different from the coach, who’d always told them to shake it off. She was empathetic, and a part of him knew he could play on that. Get her to give him what he wanted. Another part wanted not to have to play games with her. But he was a player. He always had been.

“I’m sorry, Hunter. Tell me again why you need to see my father’s papers and effects.”

He turned his hand over in hers, rubbed his thumb over the back of her knuckles while he thought about it. If he went for the hard sell now she’d pull back. He needed...he needed her to feel important. As if he was here for her.

And he was, as long as she had access to the information he needed to clear up the past. But something didn’t feel right about that. Maybe this date was a mistake because getting to know Ferrin was making him feel as if using her was wrong.

“I’m here to finally solve the Frat House Murder case. And clear my name once and for all.”

* * *

She put her hands in her lap and linked them together tightly. A chill spread down her spine as she stared at the man whom she’d been dining with. Murderer. The word echoed in her head but a part of her had a hard time reconciling that with the man she’d come to know throughout the evening.

Her throat was dry and she knew she had to say something. He watched her carefully but she had no idea how to respond to what he’d just said.

“Um...”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a mood breaker,” he said. “At first I’d thought you might have recognized my name but then it became clear you didn’t.”

“No. I really don’t follow sports or my dad’s teams that closely,” she said. “So tell me what happened.”

“Okay, I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning is probably a good idea,” she said. She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he’d been accused of murder. He didn’t feel threatening to her at all. “Were you arrested?”

“Yes. But we were released on bond and charges were never brought,” he said. “That’s why it’s so important that I get a look at your dad’s files.”

“Do you think Coach had something to do with the murders?” she asked.

He shrugged. “No, I don’t. But we are missing the videotapes from the gym and that’s where the attack on Stacia took place. I think they might be in your dad’s files. He kept everything.”

“Yes, he did. He reviewed those tapes every night when I was with him. What makes you think he has tapes from the gym? I remember seeing practice footage,” she said. She was trying to understand what Hunter thought he’d find.

“And he gave me and the other players notes the next day. He’d tell me if I was slacking off on the middle reps on a specific weight machine. I know he reviewed the gym tapes too.”

“It’s a lot to think about,” she said at last. She wanted to help Hunter but if her father said no, she wasn’t going to rock the boat with him by going behind his back. That wasn’t her way.

“Want to take a walk?” Hunter asked. “Unless you don’t feel safe with me.”

She looked over at him, saw the uncertainty in his gaze and felt a tug at her heart. She’d been accused in middle school of cheating on a test; she hadn’t cheated and her mom had gotten the teacher to change her grade but the other students all believed she had cheated. Though it wasn’t the same as Hunter’s situation, she remembered what it had been like when she’d gone to the honor society meetings and people would stare at her as if she didn’t belong there.

“I feel safe with you,” she admitted.

Hunter paid the bill and led the way down to the beach. For a man who had once been accused of murder, Hunter was charming in a self-deprecating way, Ferrin noted as they walked along the beach. The breeze blew her hair and the only sound that accompanied them was the waves crashing on the shore. He wanted her dad’s information, and given how little she cared about it, she was tempted to just give it to him. But this was the Gainer legacy. It was all that her father had left—and there was something in those boxes of practice tapes, game-day films and old files that her father was afraid of.

She doubted there was anything in the files that would help Hunter. What could her father have possibly known about a coed’s death and not shared with the cops? But at the same time...she liked Hunter. There was something about him that was different from all the other men she’d met.

He was a jock but not like the others. He was one of her father’s favored honorary sons but he didn’t look through her. Didn’t make her feel as if she was too bookish to warrant his attention. And maybe it was just that he was good-looking and paying attention to her. That couldn’t be ruled out. She might be serious and pretend to be sophisticated but she wasn’t dead.

“What are you thinking? You’ve been glancing at me from the corner of your eye for the last few minutes,” Hunter said, drawing her to a stop near a rocky outcropping.

“Nothing,” she said. Right! As if she was going to tell him that she was contemplating his attractiveness.

“Sweetheart, I know you think I’m a dumb jock—”

“Never. There is nothing dumb about you, Hunter,” she said, glancing out at the endless cycling of the waves and realizing that was the problem. If he’d been like every other player on her dad’s team, then she’d have said thanks for dinner, I’m outta here. But he wasn’t.

“Aw, shucks, ma’am.”

“Can it, Caruthers. You know you’re charming. You play that card when you think it will work to your advantage.”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet,” she said.

He turned so that his body was closer to hers. He wasn’t touching her but it wasn’t that hard to imagine his hands on her shoulders, pulling her closer... Ugh. She needed—him. She needed for once to be in her dad’s world and in control. And Hunter wanted something from her. Why shouldn’t she take something from him?

She lifted her hand, skimmed her fingers along the neat beard on his jaw. His facial hair was soft and smooth to her touch. Cool from the breeze that was wrapping around them. The heat of his skin radiated upward, making her fingers tingle.

“What is going on in that beautiful head of yours?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. She closed her eyes so she could try to make a “wise decision” but her hormones and her gut said too late. That ship had sailed as soon as he’d tried to back out of the date because of what strangers might think of her for eating with him.

She opened her eyes and was unnerved to see he was watching her. That his green-eyed stare was fixed on her. Just waiting.

He’d been judged many times in his life. She understood that from the stillness in his body and in his gaze. He was waiting for her to reject him, walk away. But he wasn’t cowering.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Live with it. Live with the attention and not go nuts.”

“It’s been hard. But the truth is, I’m innocent. That’s what gets me through. That and Kingsley. He and I both know the truth of that night.”

She nodded.

“I’m not sure about letting you have carte blanche with Dad’s videos and files,” she said. “But I don’t want you to walk out of my life. Not yet.”

The side of his mouth lifted in a slight grin. “I’m listening.”

“I want...that sounds so selfish, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all. I told you what I wanted. Why shouldn’t you have what you want?” he asked.

His voice was silky smooth, much the way she imagined the devil must sound when he was leading some poor sinner to her doom. But this didn’t feel like doom. The excitement in her stomach felt more like anticipation. As if she was alive for the first time in a really long time. As though she was living instead of just existing.

And it was too tempting to pass up.

“I want a chance to get to know the man. But if you are just here because of Dad, then tell me now. I think there is a spark between us. I want to explore it but I don’t want to bribe you into dating me by holding Dad’s files out as a carrot.” Instant attraction, falling in love at first sight; she was too practical to believe in those things, but in this moment with the half-moon hanging above them, it felt as though there was magic in the air.

He cupped her face in his hands. They were large and surprisingly smooth against her skin. He tipped her head back slightly so that their eyes met and he looked into hers with an intensity that made her shiver. What was he looking for?

“No bribe needed,” he said, lowering his head and kissing her.

* * *

She smelled of some sweet flowery perfume and the sea. Dinner had been interesting. It had changed something that he didn’t think could ever be changed and now she was being so sweet. Telling him everything he needed to do to get what he wanted.

Just be smooth, he thought. But then he heard his assistant Asia’s voice in his head. Don’t be a douche.

He rubbed his thumb over Ferrin’s bottom lip. Her breath came out in a rush. Tiny trembles coursed through her body, and if he weren’t touching her, standing this close to her, he wouldn’t have known it.

There she was again, the shy woman he’d met at the coach’s house. Not the feisty woman who had boldly gone to dinner with an infamous football player. It was the contradictions that drew him. He knew that.

He hated things that were easy to pigeonhole.

“Are you kissing me or not?” she said.

He laughed.

“I am... I just don’t want to make the wrong move. My conscience—”

“I thought you were a player. I bet you blow through women like they are disposable tissues.”

“You’re not disposable, are you?” he asked. He knew she wasn’t. “You just changed the dynamic between us. You don’t want to bribe me into a relationship and I need to make damned sure I don’t take the easy path. That’s what got me into trouble the last time.”

She took a few steps away from him and began walking back toward the restaurant and her car. He knew he’d screwed up. He had a gift for it.

He took two steps toward her and caught her in his arms, softly, gently, the way he would a pass that was just out of reach. He cradled her softly and spun her, lifting her off her feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Fixing a mistake,” he said.

He had to stop thinking.

Hadn’t Coach been the one to say that the only way to improve his game was to listen to his instincts?

He brought his mouth down on hers, not hard, because he had some self-control left. But softly. He rubbed her lips with his and tasted the coffee she’d drunk after dinner as she opened her mouth.

She twined her arms around his neck and tilted her head to the side, and suddenly he wasn’t worrying about the mistakes he’d made or the reasons why he was kissing her.

He couldn’t not kiss Ferrin. She was everything that he wanted and nothing that he felt he could allow himself to have. For the first time since Stacia...he felt something for a woman. Maybe it was the fact that Kingsley had settled down with Gabi de la Cruz or maybe—God, please—it was that he was close to finding out what had really happened to Stacia.

Maybe it was his usual need to conquer or maybe it was something more. Only time would tell.

Right now he didn’t need to know anything other than how soft and cold Ferrin’s fingers felt against the side of his face. How the way she kept running her fingertip over his light beard sent tingles down his neck and chest and straight to his groin.

How she softened against him and let him take all of her weight as the kiss deepened. He pulled his head back and looked down at her. Her lips were parted, her eyes half-closed, and there was a slight flush on her creamy skin.

He could push a little more right now. It wouldn’t take much for either of them to fall into bed together, but he wanted more than one night. He knew games were won by plays and downs. Ten yards at a time.

Sometimes faking out the other team was the way to gain more yards.

He set her on her feet. Tangled his hands in that thick gorgeous hair of hers and kissed her again even though he had decided not to. But really, what man could resist her, with her swollen lips and her sweet face looking up at him as if she wanted...well, what he wanted.

Damn.

Things just got complicated.

He couldn’t control himself around her.

When the hell had that happened? He’d always been a man of control. But with Ferrin...

He stepped away from her, turned his back to her and stared out at the sea with his hands on his hips. It had been a long six months since he’d had a lover...maybe that was it.

Please let that be it. The reason why he was having a hard time resisting her. A hard time not going back to her and scooping her up in his arms, carrying her someplace semiprivate and making damned sure that she didn’t lose that look in her eyes.

But he couldn’t.

Ten yards at a time.

Damn.

These ten yards hurt.

“Hunter?”

“I just don’t want to be that guy.”

“What guy?” she asked, walking over to him.

He noticed the strand of her hair that brushed over her swollen lips and wanted to touch it. Maybe wrap it around his fingers. But he knew if he touched her again he wouldn’t stop.

“The one you think I am,” he said. “The bad boy NFL player who has a different woman every week. I want to be more.”

“Well, that guy, the player, probably wouldn’t be here with me. Already things are different,” she said. “It must be hard for you to let your guard down.”

“It is. And I want something from you, Ferrin. Despite the money and the silver spoon upbringing, I’m the kind of person who isn’t above using whatever means I have to get what I want. I want to be better than that with you. But I’m not sure that I can resist the temptation of you.”

“I’m a temptation?”

“Dammit, woman.”

“Sorry, I’m not going to apologize for that. I’ve never been the type of woman to tempt a man or to make him want to be better.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he said.

“I’m invisible, Hunter.”

Never.


Three (#ulink_900fca96-494b-564d-ac85-212758024d1c)

In the clear light of day, waking up alone in his bed, Hunter wished he’d just brought Ferrin home with him last night. He rolled over, punching the pillow next to him, and then forced himself up and out of bed.

He was working a plan. He dropped to the floor and did fifty push-ups. His dad had said that staying focused was the only way to move past the tragedy. That’s what his family referred to Stacia’s death as. He knew they meant well.

They thought he and King should leave the matter in the past, but both of them knew they couldn’t. He finished his push-ups, got dressed for running and dialed King’s number as he went down the stairs.

“Dude, it’s early.”

“But I know Conner had you up early.” Kingsley’s son was two so he didn’t sleep late. There had even been times when Hunter had been woken by the kid, who also happened to be his godson. They were close and since Kingsley traveled so much, Conner had learned to use his iPad to FaceTime Hunter. Conner felt he could call at all hours to tell Hunter things such as when he read a new book at bedtime or saw something cool in the night sky.

“He did. That’s why I’m complaining. Just got him off to his playdate and Gabi and I are finally alone.”

Hunter laughed. “Sorry, dude. I’ll keep this short. Coach has had two strokes and a heart attack. He wouldn’t really talk to me or give me permission to go through his stuff. I’m working another angle.”

“What angle?”

“Coach’s daughter.”

“Coach has a daughter?”

“Yeah. She’s...smart and funny.”

“Pretty?”

Pretty? “She’s got eyes the color of the water around Aruba—remember that old wreck we went scuba diving in?”

“Yes.”

“Well, her eyes are that color.”

“Dang, Hunter, you sound—”

“Like an idiot,” he said. “I know. But she’s different, King. Not what I expected.”

“So you’re working her to get to the files?”

Was he? He had a plan. Seduce her and get what he wanted. Last night the plan had been screwed up by the wine and her defiant attitude in eating with him while gossips looked on. But this morning he was back on track.

“Yeah. It’s complicated, though.”

“Women always are. You want me to talk to her. That way you don’t have—”

“No. I’ll do this. When have I ever asked you to do anything for me?”

“Never. We each carry our own weight but we’re teammates. We’re like brothers, Hunter. I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks, King. Same. I got this,” he said. “I’m going for a run and then...how do you feel about hosting Ferrin and me for dinner?”

“Why?”

“I want her to know you and me. To understand that we’re not asking for the files for any reason other than to clear our names.”

“Okay. I’ll check with Gabi and let you know when we can do it.”

He hung up with King and went for his run. The mountain paths he ran on out here in California were very different from the “hills” near where he’d grown up in Texas. Back home, they had gently rolling slopes; he never used to strain when he went uphill the way he did here.

He rounded the last bend and ran up to his front door past a car he didn’t recognize. He stopped short on the bottom step that led to his porch. His interior designer had furnished the patio with two large California cedar deck chairs.

Ferrin sat in one of them. She had a foam cup in one hand, her sunglasses were pushed up on her head and she had her legs delicately crossed. She wore a pair of faded jeans—they looked soft. She had on a pair of flip-flops and her painted toenails were a deep red color.

“Hello.”

“Morning,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind but I thought maybe we could spend the day together.”

He ran through his schedule in his head. He had a meeting with his assistant this morning and a fundraising briefing in the afternoon with a local small-town peewee football league that he was sponsoring. They needed gear for the league.

“I’ve got a couple meetings, but otherwise I’m free,” he said. “Want to come inside? We can figure this out.”

“You work?”

He gave her a look over his shoulder. “My dad would disagree because I’m not out on the ranch helping him. But yeah, I work.”

“What do you do?”

“I run a foundation that encourages kids to participate in sports and funds sporting groups in low-income areas. Trying to level the playing field.”

“Wow,” she said. “I had no idea.”

“I know. My involvement in the foundation is low-key. It’s easier to give away the money if we don’t associate me with it.”

“That’s not fair. You were cleared of any wrongdoing back in college. I’d think that having a former NFL player would be something they’d publicize.”

“But that’s not how the world sees it,” he said, unlocking the door. Still, his work with the foundation made him feel a little less empty after everything that had happened surrounding Stacia’s death. “You coming in? You can wait on the deck in the back or in the kitchen while I take a quick shower.”

“I’ll wait on the deck. I like being outside. We don’t have to do this today,” she said.

“I want to. Spending the day with you is what we need.”

“We?”

“Yes, so you can trust that I’m not going to do something to hurt your dad. And so that I can remember the man I used to be.”

He went up the stairs two at a time. In the shower he pretended that her presence in his home fit his plan, but she’d thrown him. She was a linebacker he’d missed when he was running his route, and though she seemed like a lightweight, she was capable of bringing him down before he reached the end zone.

* * *

Ferrin had no real agenda when she’d decided to come to Hunter’s house. She must be here to try to figure out if she should give Hunter access to her father’s files. To get answers.

Or at least that was what she told herself.

It wasn’t because of the kiss that had plagued her dreams all night. Or the fact that for the first time she thought she might be experiencing lust. Real lust. Not the kind that she could explain away as mating instinct or her biological clock. She wanted Hunter. There was nothing logical about it. It was all white-hot lust. They had nothing in common; it was just the way he looked. That big, muscly body of his and the fact that he was focusing all of his attention on her. She wished it bothered her but it didn’t.

She was a thinker. She had never been attracted to any of her dad’s players...at least not since she’d turned eighteen and started to make a life for herself as an adult. She prided herself on being above her animal instincts, and one dinner with Hunter had made her question all of that.

One dinner.

Why was she here?

“You look way too serious for this gorgeous sunny morning,” Hunter said, stepping out onto the porch. He’d changed from his running clothes into a white linen summer suit paired with a pastel-colored shirt. On anyone else it would have looked as if he was trying too hard, but on Hunter it fit. His hair was artfully styled, his beard neatly trimmed and he smelled fresh and clean.

“We’re not all used to dancing our way through life.”

“Ah. So you’re tasting a little bit of regret this morning,” he said.

“Why would I be? We didn’t do anything last night.”

“Is that the problem?” he asked, sitting down next to her in one of the deck chairs.

“I don’t know,” she said. Honesty—it was one of the tenets of her life. “Maybe.”

“Me, too,” he said. “But we can always rectify that. We would never have been able to fix it if we had moved too fast and had regrets this morning. Would you like to join me for breakfast or have you eaten?”

“Breakfast would be great. What did you have in mind?” she asked, getting to her feet. In her mind she had a checklist. Kind of like when she did a psych evaluation at work. Her mother had told her more than once that relationships wouldn’t work if she filtered through theories, but she really had no other way to figure out what made Hunter tick.

“I’m meeting my assistant at a little diner off the Five. She works in my main office in Malibu and is driving up to give me some papers to sign and other stuff. So it’s a forty-minute drive.”

“Sounds good. Dad’s not expecting me until dinnertime.”

“Have you thought any more about letting me see his files?” Hunter asked.

“Of course. That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh, I thought you were here because we shared one hot kiss last night.”

“Well, I’m curious about that, too,” she said. Then realized she probably sounded like an idiot.

He watched her.

She had an uncomfortable feeling that she was being played and wondered if she shouldn’t just tell him no to the files and see what happened next. He shook his head.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes when I see what I want it makes me intense.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I’m not pressuring you at all. I just was trying to see if I should drop my interest in the files. If that would be enough to make you believe that the kiss we shared last night was real. And not part of a play I’m making,” he said.

But he was a master playmaker.

This was complicated. But she’d made up her mind. He’d read her...maybe a little too well, but he was smart enough to realize using the lust between them to manipulate her wasn’t going to be the easiest way to get what he wanted.

She followed him out of his house. They drove up the Five. Hunter was a relaxed driver who had no problems keeping the conversation going. He told her about his best friend Kingsley getting engaged to his college girlfriend and about his godson, Conner, who tried to FaceTime them while they were driving.

“You’re close to them,” she said.

“King is like a brother to me. Closer actually.”

Suddenly everything about Hunter became clear. He’d do whatever he had to in order to see her dad’s files. She didn’t doubt that he may have toyed with seducing her and she didn’t know if he’d really dropped it, but she knew the stakes were high for him.

Interesting.

The shallow playboy had real connections. Ones she hadn’t guessed at before, and keeping him from her father’s files was going to be harder than she’d imagined.

* * *

Hunter’s meeting with Asia, his assistant, went smoothly. He’d texted her to say he was bringing a woman and to keep her smart-ass comments to herself. His assistant was very good at her job but she liked to sass him all the time.

“I like her. She doesn’t let you get away with anything,” Ferrin said when they were back in the car.

“I know. I hired her because she was the only one who didn’t ask to see my Super Bowl ring,” he said. “She couldn’t care less about football but she loves kids and grew up in a rough neighborhood so gets that kids having something fun and productive to do is important.”

“I could see that. I thought you were one of those rich boys who just took what he wanted and damn the consequences,” she said.

“Well, I’m a man, not a boy,” he said, giving Ferrin a long level look. Maybe he was moving too slow.

Desire flashed in her pretty blue eyes as she took him in with a glance. “I know you’re a man.”

Good enough. He wanted her to be aware of him. “Do you surf?”

“Do I look like I surf?” she countered. “Actually, I’m not very sporty.”

“How was that, growing up with Coach?”

“Horrible. I can’t catch a football, which used to enrage him. I’m okay at running but I don’t like it and I can swim but that isn’t a ‘real’ sport, according to him.”

“I can teach you to catch,” Hunter said. “I’m really good at it.”

“I figured, since you’re a wide receiver. I’m smart that way.”

“Yeah, you are. How about paddleboarding?”

“How about driving up the coast and eating lunch at this restaurant that I know? Or taking a walk on the beach?”

“I like it. But you’re never going to really know me unless you see me in action,” he said. When he talked he got into trouble. He said the wrong thing, and with Ferrin when he was being so careful to watch his every move, he didn’t want to chance it.

“I want to know the man, not the player, Hunter. Talking will do,” she said.

“You’re right, I’m happy to do that but in return you will do something with me.”

“Football?” she asked. The dread in her voice amused him.

“It’s not like I’m asking you to outrun zombies.”

“I think I’d prefer that,” she said. “I’m going to level with you. I never liked football and I know it’s because my dad loved it more than anything—and anyone—else.”

Hunter put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. “My dad is that way about the land.”

“The land?”

“Our family has a ranch that is generations old and when other families left and went to Dallas or moved on to oil, we kept cattle. It’s the only thing that Dad really understands. Football is okay for a man to watch on the weekends but to make a living at it, well, in his mind, that’s a lazy man’s path.”

“Football is at the crux of both our lives,” she said.

“See, we’re not so different after all,” he said, but they were different. He’d made his peace with his father. He’d always gone home in the off-season when he’d still been playing, and more frequently now. He did the early morning chores with his father. They’d gotten past the differences from their past. Ferrin hadn’t found that yet with Coach. Could Hunter do that for her? Mend that relationship?

Why did he want to?

Because he wanted her and was going to use her anyway, he thought. He needed to justify his actions to himself. To somehow make it seem as though it was okay for him to use her, to take her and the information he needed.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You can look through Dad’s files. But... I’ll go through them with you,” she said.

Score.

But it didn’t feel like a touchdown. He felt as if he’d gotten the points due to something sly. A cheat.

“When you’re ready,” he said. “I still want to teach you to catch and spend the day with you.”

She gave him a long look from those gorgeous eyes of hers. And he realized there was much more to her than he’d noticed before.

“Waiting isn’t going to make me think you want to be with me more than you want to see the files,” she said.

“I know. But it will make me feel better that you are letting me see them,” he said.

“For a badass that’s not really a tough attitude.”

“The last time I put football before a woman it ended badly, Ferrin, but I need to make sure my conscience is clean on this.”

“Are you talking about Stacia? I want to know more about that. But I know it must be hard for you to talk about it,” she said.

Ferrin was right; he didn’t want to tell her the painful memories of Stacia’s death, how he’d broken up with her the very night she was murdered and had felt guilty about it ever since. But he knew he was going to have to. Only by talking about the past could he believe that she would understand why those files were so important.

“Definitely,” he said. “But not today. Today is about the present.”

She gave him another look, and to his guilty soul it seemed she read the truth buried beneath what he hoped was charm. “Fine. But you know it’s hard to move forward when you are carrying the weight of the past.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “I’m very well acquainted with that fact.”

“It’s okay. This is only our second date. I was just trying to be helpful,” she said. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Right, psychology professor. Why teach instead of practice?” he asked.

“Teaching suits me. My parents are teachers.”

“I guess coaching is teaching, isn’t it?”

“I meant my stepdad, but coaching can be considered teaching, as well.”

She didn’t include Coach when she talked about her parents. That was interesting, and he wanted to know more. He would take today to learn about her and when he got her home he’d tell her the whole truth about Stacia and the past.


Four (#ulink_b959f084-c464-5267-ab34-fb2c41f5d2a1)

The beach wasn’t too crowded in the middle of the day as they walked down it. Though she’d said she wanted to talk, she wasn’t too sure now. Hunter seemed to have no barriers and she didn’t really want to know the raw, broken man underneath the sexy exterior. She’d reacted to him on an intimate level and it would be much easier to just kiss him, take him to her bed and then show him the door.

But his pain was real to her. Observed in the quiet moments when he thought she wasn’t watching him. There was a palpable drive to it, as well. The woman in her wanted to comfort him.

Sex would do that, she thought.

Lust. It truly had been a long time since she’d met a man who just plain turned her on the way he did.

Emotions. These emotions weren’t comfortable for her. Give her a nice, calm feeling of indifference—that was really all she wanted.

“What’s the deal with you and your dad?” Hunter asked as he stopped to look out at the sea.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she said. This was a mistake. Just go buy a football and let him throw it to her. That was what she should have done. But instead she’d wanted to talk.

Her mom would be...understanding. She’d probably be able to offer some insight that Ferrin herself was missing. She wondered if he’d let her call a time-out on their day date to call her mom.

She started laughing at how ridiculous that thought was.

“You okay?”

“No. No, I’m not. I suggested this to get to know you better but you turned the tables on me and suddenly I realized I don’t want to let you any closer. I don’t want to get to know a man who loves a sport I hate. A man who wants something from the father I barely know. A man who makes me aware of myself as a woman. I am so used to being in control of myself and my environment.”

Hunter put his hands up, shoulder-level, and cocked his head to the side. “I wanted to play football. It’s quick and physical and neither of us would have to do much thinking while we were playing.”




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