Griff Montgomery, Quarterback Page 12

  She chuckled. No need to hunt for a man. She had one available twenty-four seven, right in her own home.

  Thoughts of Griff brought a smile to her face. Her nipples tingled at the memory of their lovemaking the night before. She admitted to herself that he was a masterful lover. Bob hadn’t been inspired or inspiring, like the handsome quarterback. After she and Bob married, sex had become him rolling over a few seconds after getting in bed, two minutes of foreplay, and then wham, and it was over. She had settled for it because he was going to be the father of her child.

  Now, her life was completely different. The breeze coming in the open window, caressing her neck as she drove, called to mind Griff’s whisper-soft kisses. A twinge of soreness between her legs as she moved to step on the gas reminded her of his amazing stamina. A glance in the rearview mirror showed a happy face. Stress wrinkles between her brows had faded. Frown lines by her mouth, as well.

  Anxiety had drained out of her body, leaving taut muscles relaxed. The occasional stomach cramps had gone away. Her shoulders now rested where they belonged instead of two inches higher.

  Lauren parked the car and retrieved Spike. He took the opportunity to relieve himself before trotting alongside his pretty mistress into the office. She greeted Annette while Spike circled on his little bed then settled in for a nap. The decorator got to work, opening up drawings on her computer and fishing a book of wallpaper samples from her drawer. She sighed and smiled as she thumbed through design after design. Creating a beautiful living environment for people made her happy.

  She hummed a love song as she made notes. Her cell rang. It was Marnie.

  “Needing to go out to lunch.”

  “Can’t today. I have a new project. Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Works for me. How’s your new boyfriend?”

  “Griff? Fine.”

  “Are you madly in love?”

  “Love? No way. It’s an affair. That’s all. I’m sure it will be over as soon as his house is livable again.”

  “Hah! I know you. It’s love. I can hear it in your voice.”

  “Baloney. That’s static. I’m in the middle of something here. Can I call you tomorrow morning for time and place?”

  “Sure. Just don’t lie to yourself, Lauren.”

  She closed her phone and tried to focus on the computer screen, but her mind wandered. It’s not love. I’d never be in love with a man who wants children. An affair. Wonderful for however long it lasts.

  Daydreams captured her attention. Exactly what would it be like to be married to Griff Montgomery? She pictured them in her house, cooking together, watching sports television, and in bed. Resting her chin on her hand, she propped up her head and closed her eyes.

  A vision of Griff pulling her into the shower with him was followed by a chase through the house. She would escape to the bedroom, where he would catch up with her, throw her down on the bed, and make love to her. She would sigh when he called her “Mrs. Montgomery.”

  “He must be pretty special,” a voice interrupted her dream.

  Lauren’s eyes flew open. “Who?”

  “Whoever’s got you sighing like that,” said Annette, as she dropped off some sketches.

  Lauren sensed her cheeks heating up. “Nothing. No one.”

  “Right.” Annette chuckled. “Some hunk? A new guy?” She lounged on the corner of the desk.

  “It’s not important. Thank you for picking these up.” Lauren took the papers one at a time and stacked them.

  Annette shot a knowing smile at her. “Okay. If that’s how you want to play it.”

  “I’ve got to talk to Harry.” Lauren picked up her cell and searched the contacts.

  “I can take a hint. But when you want to talk, I’d love to know all about him.” Annette pushed to her feet and headed toward her office.

  Lauren gazed out the window. He’s mine now. But for how long? Can I stay cool? Maybe it’s already too late for that.

  Chapter Ten

  Griff suited up in their colors and hit the field with the rest of the team. Half wore green jerseys and the other half, white. They divided into groups and lined up. Mac Jenkins hiked the ball to Griff, who spotted Buddy and sailed a pass right to his friend. Tony Hastings was the opposing quarterback.

  When the defensive team took over, Griff, watched Tony and analyzed the young man’s every move. He had his own style. When Tony’s team lost possession of the ball, Griff trotted back out with confidence. With great protection from the offensive line, he connected with receiver after receiver. He was in the zone as his body performed perfectly, hitting target after target. He smiled and his satisfaction grew. No way is that kid replacing me.

  He loved football, especially on the days when he could do no wrong.

  Griff worked hard, the way he had every year. Always the first on the field for practice and the last one to leave the weight room, he earned a rep as workaholic. He didn’t care because he reaped the benefits of all the hours he put in. His winning record spoke for itself—two Super Bowl victories and two losses, the latter by only one touchdown each time. Even making the Super Bowl was a victory in itself. That’s what Kathy had said, and he agreed.

  On top of that, he had been chosen top QB in the NFL for four years in a row by Sports News Digest, the top sports newspaper in the country. He had the loyalty of the team he captained to victory and socked away large bonuses every year. Glory wasn’t the only reward. The team owner upped the year-end loot by ten percent for each playoff game won. And Griff Montgomery ruled playoffs, motivated by the pressure and responsibility.

  Practice ended at five thirty. The men hit the showers. Griff knew he’d pay for several idle weeks with sore muscles and couldn’t wait to sink his sexy ass in a tub of hot water. He rinsed the sweat off and dressed quickly then called Lauren to give his planned time of arrival.

  He grinned as he maneuvered his fancy car through winding streets home. A satisfying and regular sex life helped him maintain focus, relax, and not tense up on the field. He had Lauren to thank for that. He pushed the speed limit in anticipation of another delicious night in the bedroom, if he wasn’t too tired.

  He parked the car in the driveway and almost skipped up to the door. A spicy aroma and barking dog greeted him. His gaze caught Lauren bending over to pick up something in the living room. He ogled her nicely rounded rear. Might want to try it doggie style. He imagined grabbing her hips and plunging into her. The idea caused a tightening in his groin.

  “You’re home,” she said, straightening up. “Right on time. Bath is ready.”

  “What smells so good?” He closed the door behind him.

  “A new recipe for Jambalaya.”

  His mouth watered. “I’ll make it fast.”

  She held up her hand. “Take your time. I still have to put on the rice.”

  He kissed her quickly before taking the steps two at a time to the larger tub in her bathroom on the second floor. Stripping off his running shorts and T-shirt, he eased down into the steamy water. The air was heavy and moist with a scent of vanilla and mint. The heat penetrated his aching muscles.

  While he scrubbed his legs with the washcloth, he went over Tony’s plays in his mind. The kid is pretty good. Of course, that’s not against a full line-up of heavy-duty defensemen. Still. He’s pretty accurate. He scrunched down to let the soothing water cover his chest. He’s not as good as I am. Not by a long shot. Peace flowed through Griff as the herbs soaked the exhaustion out of him.

  “Dinner in five,” Lauren called up the stairs.

  Griff rose to his feet and wrapped a towel around his waist. A great dinner. Then Lauren. He snickered to himself. Am I too tired? An image of her, naked, flashed through his mind. A chuckle, a snort, and his body’s reaction convinced him he’d be in fine form to perform as well in the bedroom as he had on the field. He dried off, tossed on shorts and a T-shirt, and then descended the stairs, sniffing the enticing food.

  When he entered the kitchen, he ment
ally stripped Lauren bare as she placed the dishes on the table.

  After dinner, Griff cleaned up. They settled on the sofa to watch a movie. When the film finished, Lauren disappeared into her bedroom upstairs. He was tired. Practices at eight in the morning made him go to bed early. Ten o’clock. Time to hit the sack. He called to her, “Lauren, bedtime!”

  She poked her head around the wall. “You go ahead. I’m going to sleep up here.”

  “How come? You mad or something?”

  He watched a blush redden her cheeks. “No, it’s just…well…not tonight. Tomorrow, either.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “I don’t get it.”

  “I thought you had a sister,” she said, exasperation evident in her voice. “No sex tonight.”

  “What am I missing here?” He scratched his scruffy face. “Do you want me to shave?”

  “Sometimes you’re really dense. It’s my time of the month.”

  “Oh! Yeah. Got it. Okay.” He finished cleaning up and went to his room. But he couldn’t get comfortable in the empty bed. He rolled over, stretching out his arm, reaching for Lauren, but coming in contact with a cold sheet, instead of a warm body.

  Griff slung his legs over the side, pulled up his boxers, and tiptoed upstairs. She was lying still. He couldn’t tell if she was asleep or awake. Slowly, he pulled down the bedcovers.

  She rolled over and gasped. “What are you doing?” She rubbed her eyes.

  “The bed downstairs is empty.”

  “You missed me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But I said no—”

  He put his finger over her lips. “I know. It’s not about sex.” He slipped in next to her.

  She stared at him. “Then, what?”

  “I like having you next to me. It’s not like you’ve got a fatal, contagious disease. When we were kids, Kathy used to use it to get out of chores. Pissed me off.”

  She chuckled. “Not me. Never had a problem with it.”

  “Then, it’s okay if I bunk in with you?”

  “Sure.” She smiled before she turned her back to him.

  Griff scootched up against her, wrapping an arm around her middle. He rubbed the soft cotton of her nightgown between his fingers. Lauren pulled her knees up a bit, and he eased his behind hers.

  “That okay?”

  “Great.”

  “You don’t have cramps or anything, do you? Need me to rub your stomach?”

  She laughed. “I’m fine. This position is perfect.”

  He kissed her neck. “Goodnight, baby.”

  “Night.”

  The weariness in his body took over, and he was asleep in seconds.

  * * * *

  As usual, Griff headed to training camp before the rest. His muscles were still a bit sore from the day before. It worried him that he wasn’t bouncing back as fast as he had in the past. Only two years ago, he could do training camp, hoist a few at The Savage Beast, and after only five hours sleep, still perform well the next day. Now, he needed eight hours, and he’d cut out alcohol. And still, his legs screamed at him during warm-ups.

  Arriving early gave him time to stretch. He hit the weight room, did crunches and push-ups, and then squats until his muscles were warm. He joined the rest of the team for a run at nine. After, it was time for warm-ups on the field. Griff loved the physicality of football. Even the exercises made him feel good, once he broke through the initial stiffness.

  At the lunch break, Buddy joined him. They stuffed themselves with sandwiches and washed them down with Gatorade. Griff massaged his calf and stretched while he digested.

  “Sore?”

  Griff nodded. “Didn’t used to be.”

  “Getting old?”

  “Nah. Just tight.” He wasn’t about to admit anything, even to his best friend.

  “Don’t worry. You’re still the best,” Buddy said, taking a bite of his second roast beef hero.

  “I’d better be. Tony’s here to take over if I’m not.”

  “Aw, come on. He’s a rookie. Got a lot to learn. You’re light years ahead of him.”

  “I hope so.” Griff wiped his mouth after finishing the last of his food.

  The men lined up to scrimmage.

  “You got a big mouth, Montgomery,” Trunk Mahoney said, squatting down into position.

  “Remember, Trunk, this is just a scrimmage.”

  “No tackling. Touch only,” the assistant coach hollered.

  “Yeah, if you get taken out…now we got a replacement.” Trunk shot an evil grin at Griff.

  Glancing up, Griff spied Coach Bass up in the box with the owner. Hope they’re not just watching Tony.

  The ball was snapped, and the action began.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Griff spotted Trunk coming for him. He slid down, hugging the ball.

  “Lucky for you,” the bruiser said.

  “If you put me out of the game, Coach Bass will fire your ass so fast.”

  “Don’t want to take you out, just make you feel the pain a little.”

  “Go fuck yourself, Mahoney.”

  “Like I did your mother last night?”

  “Suck my dick, asshole.”

  “Why? You not getting any?” Trunk smirked.

  Griff rifled the ball at Trunk’s groin.

  The linebacker doubled over. “I’ll get you, fucker,” he muttered, his face screwed up.

  “Oops. Sorry. Meant that for Carruthers,” Griff said, without a note of regret in his voice.

  They lined up again. This time, Trunk managed to get through. He grabbed Griff by the facemask and pulled him down then kicked the quarterback in the stomach.

  Griff couldn’t breathe. He clutched his belly, gasping for air.

  “So sorry,” Mahoney said, bending down to whisper, “Never fuck with me again, asshole.”

  Buddy ran over and got in Mahoney’s face. “You did that on purpose. You piece a shit!”

  Trunk shoved Buddy in the shoulder, and he went flying, falling backwards over Griff, who was still prone. The assistant coach blew a whistle and ran over to the quarterback, who had moved up to his knees. The EMT’s ran over to attend to Griff, who had regained his voice.

  “I’m okay. But if that guy touches me again, I’ll rip him apart.”

  The assistant coach chewed his pen. “Don’t do that. He’s a lot bigger than you, Griff.”

  “So what?” The quarterback pushed to his feet.

  “You’d better go home and rest,” the coach said. “Take the afternoon off. You’re doing great. Missing this won’t matter.”

  Griff headed for the locker room. One look back showed him Tony Hastings, putting on his helmet. Fuck! Rookie is playing in my place.

  Trunk Mahoney gave Griff a half bow and the finger then turned back to the scrimmage.

  Griff changed quickly. His belly hurt, so he drove slower than usual. When he arrived home, the house was empty except for Spike, who greeted him at the door, barking. He went right to the tub and turned on the faucet. A small packet of bath herbs sat on the counter. He dumped the contents in. Then, he found Spike and carried him into the bathroom.

  The pug circled then lay down on the bathmat and curled into a ball, his big eyes focused on Griff as the quarterback slipped into the hot water. He rested his head on the back of the old-fashioned tub and closed his eyes.

  “I hate Trunk Mahoney,” he said.

  Spike snorted.

  Griff rubbed his own tender belly gently. “He’s an asshole.”

  No response from Spike.

  “Who do you like better, Lauren or me?” The quarterback cracked open an eye to glance at the bathmat.

  The pug yawned and shifted position.

  “Yeah, Lauren. I know. But you’ve been with her a lot longer. I’ll grow on you. Trust me. I’ve already grown on her, haven’t I?” He chuckled, his lips turning up in a sly little smile.

  Spike snored.

  “You don’t have to admit it. She likes me al
most as much as she likes you.” He dunked a loofah then squeezed soothing droplets on the biceps of this throwing arm.

  The only reply from the sleeping pooch was a soft snort.

  “Okay, okay, maybe not almost as much. But I’m getting there.”

  Silence.

  “I get why you like her best. She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

  The soft burr from Spike answered the question.

  “Yeah. I know. And pretty. She’s got the cutest little—”

  A knock on the door made Griff jump and slosh water on the floor. He swore.

  “Griff? Is that you?” a feminine voice called.

  “Yeah. You’re home early.”

  “Came home to start dinner. Who are you talking to? Are you in the bathtub with a woman?” Her tone became tense. He could visualize the red in her neck, her hands fisted on her hips.

  “Are you crazy? No. See for yourself.”

  She threw open the door hard enough that it banged against the wall, waking Spike, who barked.

  “It’s okay, boy. She’s just checking up on me.” Griff chuckled, shooting her a flirtatious glance.

  “You were talking to Spike?” Her eyebrows rose.

  “I plead the fifth. And he’s not talking, either.” Griff stood up.

  She burst out laughing. He followed her gaze to his groin. When she realized she was caught staring, a beautiful blush lit up her cheeks, and she threw him a towel.

  “Cover up,” she muttered, lowering her lashes.

  “Are you sure?”

  She shot him an angry, embarrassed look that made him laugh as he wrapped the cloth around his waist and stepped out of the tub.

  “You’re home early, too,” she commented.

  “That’s a long story.” He pushed his fingertips gingerly into his middle and cringed. The area was sensitive.

  “You hurt?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”