Hot Shots

Chapter 10

Matt sat in his car with The Cup, now emptied of its flowers, and tried to think what to do next. He'd approached it all wrong. He realized that now. It was a dumb s**t thing to do, leaving The Cup with roses fillings its bowl in front of her office door, then hiding until she picked it up and took it inside. What did he think, that she'd be so overwhelmed by the roses that she'd throw her arms around him?

He should have listened to Brenna. His big grand gesture had fizzled. But he still had hope. There was a legend going around that whenever a player of the championship team had his day with The Cup, he fell in love. Or found love. Well, he'd already fallen and certainly found it. The problem was he was afraid he'd lost it.

One look at her today and he couldn't for the life of him think why he'd walked away from her. He had really screwed up. He was determined to get it back now that his stupid brain had finally realized how much he'd lost.

Lizzie. (He'd always think of her that way, no matter how many times she changed her name.) She was pretty before but now she was absolutely beautiful. He rich black hair was an even darker ebony, thicker and fuller and falling to her shoulders in waves that bounced when she moved her head. He was sure he'd never seen skin that creamy, or lips that sculptured. And her eyes, fringed with the darkest, thickest lashes. Today, with the bright blue sweater she'd worn, they looked an even deeper blue, reminding him of the ocean on a sunny day.

As he'd stood there watching her, taking in the sight of her, his hands had itched to skim the curved of her hips and cup the gorgeous mounds of her breasts. Rub his thumbs over her n*****s that had hardened and were very obvious against the soft fabric of her sweater. It was a long time since he'd seen her naked but the image came back to him as if it was yesterday. The curve of her hips, the darkness of her n*****s, the neatly trimmed nest of curls that covered her s*x, a curtain over the gateway to paradise.

And now her figure was richer, fuller. He wanted more than anything to just strip her clothes off right there and kiss every inch of her skin. To run his tongue over her and taste her. To pleasure them both as he thrust his tongue inside her and tasted her wetness.

Did she smell just as good now? He bet her lips were just as soft and sweet and they ever were. He wanted to lick them and nip them and...

Cut it out, he told himself. He wasn't doing himself any good. He'd had the damndest time sending message to his c**k that wanted to break out of the restrictions of his fly and offer itself up to her. None of that could be on the table now. First he had to win her back. Then he could worship her body to his heart's content. He hoped.

He was still sitting in the parking lot in his SUV when he saw Dara hurrying toward him. She tried to open the door but when she discovered it was locked, she pounded on the window.

"Let me in for a minute," she called

Matt swallowed a sigh. What now? Was she going to give him a lecture about how badly he'd treated Lizzie? He'd already raked himself over the coals. He'd had plenty of time during the long drive from New Orleans to chew his own ass out and curse himself for being a self-centered schmuck.

And damn it, she'd always be Lizzie to him.

He popped the lock, Dara yanked the door open and hitched herself into the passenger's seat.

"Before you start," he told her, "there's nothing you can say I haven't already said to myself. I f****d up. Royally. Big time. I always wanted to be good at something. Who knew I'd excel at that. " He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Crap."

"Well!" There was a hint of amusement in her voice. "It appears you're very good at throwing a pity party for yourself, too."

"Yeah, maybe." He slid a glance at her. "So what can I do for you?"

"Before I say anything else, be aware that Liz St. John is my best friend in the whole world. If you screw her over again, there won't be a place for you to hide anywhere on this earth."

"Okay. I hear you. Loud and clear." He shifted in his seat, trying to get more comfortable.

"I personally think she should throw you out the door like she did before and dust her hands. But women aren't always smart where men are concerned." She snorted. "Don't repeat that either."

"Okay, okay." He held up his hands. "I won't repeat anything you say. Now or ever. But what's going on here, Dara?"

She blew out a breath. "You have a chance to get her back, Matt. A real chance, if you don't blow it. She's never gotten over you, despite her attitude. I now she reads he sorts section, and..." She looked around as if expecting someone to be listening outside the car. "And she also watched your games on television when we got them here."

His heart did a little backflip. "My games? She watched my games? Really?"

"Down, boy." Dara scowled at him. "This all depends on you focusing on her and not yourself."

"But at least the door is open a little, right?" he pleaded. "A little while ago I figured she never wanted to see my face again."

"And that will be true unless you pay careful attention to what I'm going to tell you."

"I'm listening. With every pore in my body. Tell me what I need to do."

"Okay, then. Here's the deal."