Devon Drake, Cornerback Page 7

  Instead, he opened the door.

  The man wheeled in a table laden with breakfast food. “Only two? I thought there’d be more,” the waiter said.

  “Training,” Devon remarked, before he slipped a twenty-dollar bill into the server’s hand as he left.

  “You’re eating all this?”

  “I chow down before training and a game.”

  “This is a lot of food.” She surveyed the table crammed with scrambled eggs, an omelet, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and ham. Three glasses of juice, a giant pot of coffee, plus Stormy’s bacon and eggs, filled out the repast.

  “I can’t eat this?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “This is all good, high protein stuff. A little fatty maybe, but at least there are no donuts or Danish here.”

  “Right. Low on carbs. Like you said.” He offered her a chair then sat down.

  “What’s on your schedule today?”

  “I usually like to start the morning with some exercise in bed. But you wore me out in that department last night.” He chuckled when she blushed.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze to her plate.

  “Don’t apologize. I feel great. Best night of my life.” He bit down on a piece of bacon.

  They chatted about football and food until they finished the meal. Then, Devon dressed and headed down to the bus taking the team back to their practice field. She accompanied him to the lobby. Reporters swarmed around the players, and photographers snapped pictures. Devon snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her to him for a kiss goodbye. Flashing lights all around him seemed more like a fireworks fantasy from the warmth of their affection than simply flashbulbs.

  “Bye, baby. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “I’ll be here,” she whispered, raising her palm in a wave.

  As the bus pulled away from the curb, he heard the loudest voice on the team, “You missed breakfast, Drake.”

  “I ate in my room, if it’s any business of yours, Brodsky.”

  “Woo hoo! Someone got laid last night.” Bullhorn made a rude gesture with his hands.

  Devon sensed heat in his face. Shut up, Brodsky, fuckin’ asshole.

  “Look at him blush. Guess I gotta strike one chick off the list. Devon’s got dibs on the redhead. Or should that be in the redhead?”

  The laughter and teasing from the guys made him want to punch Bullhorn in the stomach. But he needed the big lug to be behind the team during the game. So, he swallowed his embarrassment and rode on in silence. Yeah. I got dibs on the redhead. She’s mine. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.

  * * * *

  Stormy wasn’t happy about the lights going off in her face, but the taste and feel of Devon’s lips made up for it. She had already pinched herself into a bruise trying to figure out if last night and this morning had been a dream or real.

  “How about breakfast?” came from a familiar voice. Samantha stood by the door to the dining room.

  “I ate already.”

  “You did? Where?”

  “I’ll keep you company,” Stormy said, as she joined her friend.

  Samantha planted herself in Stormy’s path, gripped her arms, and glared at her. “Where did you have breakfast?”

  “That’s private.”

  “Look, you’re here because of me. So, you need to tell me.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “You didn’t spend the night with Sly, did you?”

  “Bullhorn Brodsky? Oh, I get it now.” Stormy gave Sam a shrewd smile. “No, I didn’t. He’s all yours.”

  Samantha let out a breath and released her friend. “It’s not that he’s mine or anything. I mean, we’re not going out. I just met him. And even if we were, if Dev found out, he’d kill Sly, then me.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “There’s no secret. I’ve seen him checking me out a couple of times when I’m working with Jo. Hard not to notice him. He might make a good friend. That’s all.”

  “Uh huh,” Stormy nodded, chuckling. “Friends with benefits?”

  “Absolutely not.” Samantha frowned.

  “Hey, it’s okay with me. I’m not throwing any stones. I think he’s kinda cute.”

  “Stay away from him,” Sam said.

  The redhead raised her palms. “Hey, no worries from me. I’m not interested in Sly Brodsky.”

  “It’s just that I haven’t liked anyone for a long time. I mean, I don’t know him. But I’d like to. I think. Come on, I’m starved.” Samantha’s cheeks pinked.

  The women entered the dining room. Stormy ordered more coffee and a fruit cup while Sam ate a full breakfast.

  “How about you telling me where you were last night? Where did you have breakfast, and why were you kissing my brother…in front of the cameras? Trying to make Jackie jealous?”

  If Samantha had shot an arrow into her chest, Stormy couldn’t have been more wounded. Is that all I am? Bait for Jackie? Using me to get her back? “I’m twenty-eight years old, Sam. I don’t have to answer. Obviously, you’re sorry you brought me along. I have the money to get a return ticket on my own. I’ll leave now, if that’d make you happy,” Stormy said, pushing out her chair.

  “Wait, wait. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. Stay, Stormy.”

  “You’re being a real bitch, you know that? I think we’ve been best friends long enough to say that, when it’s true.”

  “I don’t know why I’m so on edge. I know how you feel about Devon. I don’t want either of you to get hurt. I think Jackie dumped him. He’s probably on the rebound. That makes you both vulnerable. It’s best to stay away from him.” Samantha took a forkful of eggs.

  Emotion rose to Stormy’s throat as the sting of tears began behind her eyes. “Obviously, you don’t think Devon could ever be interested in me. I’m not comfortable staying. You’ve taken all the joy out of watching him cream the Sidewinders and celebrate a victory together.”

  Samantha’s mouth fell open. “Stormy! I’m so sorry. I never meant it like that. It’s just that the last time you tried to get close to him—”

  “I wasn’t trying to get close to him. I only wanted to sit with him at the dance. It wasn’t exactly a lifetime commitment, Sam,” Stormy said, her tone chilly enough to freeze meat.

  “I’m not speaking right. I keep putting my foot in it. I didn’t mean it that way. Please…I don’t want you to go.” Sam put her hand on her friend’s arm to stop her leaving.

  Tears slipped from Stormy’s eyes.

  Samantha hugged her. “Don’t let my stupidity upset you. Were you with Devon?”

  The redhead nodded.

  “Are you happy?”

  “I was,” Stormy said, rummaging through her purse for a tissue.

  “That’s great then. Don’t let your heart get broken. I don’t think he’s ready to make any commitment. You know, ’cause of Jackie.”

  “You think he loved her so much. I’m not so sure.”

  “They were always texting.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. She’s not here when he needs her.”

  “Their careers separated them. But they might get back together. If this show she’s working on gets canceled, she might come back to Dev. I just want you to be prepared.”

  Stormy’s stomach clenched. She fought to keep her hand from shaking as she poured another cup of coffee from the pot. No! She can’t come back. He wants me. He wouldn’t take her back. Would he? I can’t be shoved aside twice by Devon Drake.

  * * * *

  There was a buffet awaiting the team members and their families the night before the big game. When the bus returned, the men rejoined their loved ones for a social hour before dinner.

  Stormy sat in her room, brushing her hair and frowning. Her heartbeat quickened, watching from her window, as the players got off the bus. When she spied Devon, she held a breath and steadied one hand with the other as she applied the last of her eye makeup.

  The quiet in the room was deafening.
She jumped at the sudden knock at her door.

  “Stormy. Dinner. Come on. Let’s go.” It was a masculine voice.

  She released the air she’d been holding, waiting for him, and opened the door. Dev was dressed in dressy, tight jeans and a fresh T-shirt in light blue, mimicking the color of his eyes. He looked gorgeous.

  His gaze traveled her length, leaving heat in its trail. “Wow. New dress?”

  “Yeah. You like?” She twirled, showing off the turquoise dress with white trim that clung to her body.

  “You look hot. Come on. I’m hungry.” He offered his hand, and she accepted.

  Joy beat in her heart, but she was afraid to feel it. Wearing a tentative smile, she laced her fingers with his as they headed for the elevator. Devon’s date? Devon’s girlfriend? Uh, probably not. Devon’s bed partner for the night? Maybe. Don’t overthink, just enjoy.

  He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her head as they waited. The ride down was quick, and soon, they were lost in the crowd in the private dining room. Stormy stayed close to Devon. She didn’t know the relatives, just the players. The crowd of women, who all seemed to know each other, brought out her shyness. She noticed Samantha, with a drink in her hand, talking to Bullhorn Brodsky and smiling. Stormy steered Dev in the other direction.

  “Look, pigs in blankets. I love those.” She led him toward a buffet of hot and cold hors d’oeuvres. He held the plate while she filled it.

  “Can I eat that shit?”

  “It’s okay for today. How’s your weight?”

  “I’m down seven.”

  “Still have thirteen to go. We’ll work on it after the game. Now, you need lots of protein and some comfort food.”

  “Is that your professional opinion?”

  “Of course,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

  “I can think of some other forms of comfort I could use,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear.

  She eased away as heat suffused her cheeks. “Later,” she whispered.

  His deep, sexy snicker went right to her core, sending a tingle through her.

  Stormy peeked across the room and saw Samantha move away from Bull. She smiled her thanks to the woman diverting her brother and found a seat at the table. No alcohol was served, since it was the night before the game, so the men drank sports drinks, soda, and water. Devon led her to a corner where they shared their food.

  “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

  “A little.”

  “These are your old teammates. Is that a problem?”

  “Nope. I’ll be glad to see some of the guys. But I’m a King now, and I’ll give them one hundred and fifty per cent.”

  “Do you know their secrets?”

  “Yeah. Never sleep with a girl on the first date,” he joked.

  Stormy slapped his shoulder gently while he laughed. “Come on. Seriously.”

  “Sure. I know everything they did up until I got here.”

  “Will that help you?”

  “Of course. West is a bone crusher. He’s taken out a few quarterbacks in his day. Bull has his work cut out for him. And Lucas is fast.”

  “Lucas?”

  “Their best wide receiver, Norville Lucas.”

  I’d better learn football. She nodded as if she’d truly understood what he’d said.

  “You’ll get it if you watch enough.”

  “Right. Yes. I will.” Embarrassment crept up inside as she steered him to another large buffet table. This one was covered with platters of meat. Roast beef, sliced steak, grilled chicken breasts, and then the sides. Broccoli, string beans, and roasted new potatoes perched next to baked sweet potatoes. A huge bowl of salad came at the end, along with multigrain rolls and butter.

  Devon piled his plate high with meat. Stormy suggested more string beans and fewer potatoes. Once their dishes were full, they headed for the table. Samantha had saved two seats. The cornerback took the one next to his sister and held out a chair for Stormy on the other side of him. Eating kept conversation to a minimum.

  Stormy watched the men consume enormous quantities of food. Some were relaxed, but most appeared tense, their brows slightly furrowed, their eyes serious. The Super Bowl was a lot more than just a game to them. Money, fame, recognition, and some job security in an insecure field played equal parts. The women smiled, trying to lighten the mood. She sensed the strain, as if it were a physical entity in the room. She ate quietly, observing, learning how the women interacted with their men. Not like I’m ever gonna be a football wife.

  After dinner some of the players socialized, while others played poker. Bullhorn Brodsky challenged Devon to a game of Oh Hell. Brodsky picked Sam as his partner, and Devon played with Stormy. When Bull linked hands with Samantha, the cornerback’s eyes blazed, but he didn’t make a scene. Stormy saw Drake’s zeal to best the offensive lineman, humiliate the big man at a humble game of cards.

  When the game was over, with Dev victorious, they headed for the elevator.

  “Why don’t you get your stuff?” He suggested to Stormy.

  “My stuff?”

  “You’re spending the night with me, right?”

  “Oh, sure.” Slow down pulse.

  “We’ll stop at your room first.”

  She threw her belongings in her small valise, which Devon toted to his room. Her skin tingled in anticipation of his touch and another hot encounter. But it was her heart that glowed with warmth that he’d stayed by her side in public, holding hands, eating together, as if she was his girlfriend. And now, she’d be staying in his room. The fluttering bouncing around her belly fueled her grin. Happiness flowed.

  Being Devon’s girlfriend had been a childhood dream. Now, it appeared to be a reality, if even just for Super Bowl weekend.

  Chapter Six

  Stormy helped straighten Devon’s tie before they went down to breakfast. He felt good. After a night of satisfying sex followed by sleeping cuddled up with her, his confidence was high and his energy flowing. She seemed to know, instinctively, how to behave with him. He had been jumpy at the prospect of the big game. Stormy had cracked jokes then had given him a massage that had ended in heated lovemaking like he had never known.

  Was she a superior woman? Maybe. Or maybe it was their history. Devon didn’t have to hide anything from her or pretend to be something he wasn’t. Stormy knew him inside and out, as well as she knew herself. Having grown up together jacked his comfort level to the sky. And she didn’t fuss with her hair and makeup all the time, or talk on the phone or text. One thing was clear as a newly washed windshield—Stormy was there for him.

  There was quiet for most of the meal as the men chowed down massive amounts of protein. Then, they boarded the bus for the stadium. Devon kissed Stormy goodbye.

  “Good luck. I’ll be cheering for you,” she said, patting his cheek.

  He slid into a window seat and looked for his girl. Way behind her was Bullhorn Brodsky, stealing a kiss from Dev’s sister. Samantha gave him a playful shove and laughed. Steam rose to Devon’s ears. I’ll kill him. He’ll break her heart, the bastard. He has no respect for women.

  As Bull came down the center aisle of the bus, looking for a seat, Dev hissed at him, “Touch my sister again and I’ll hang you by your balls, if you have any.”

  “Oh, I got ’em. And Samantha wants ’em too. She told me so.”

  Devon was on the big man in a heartbeat. Trunk Mahoney pulled him off and tossed him back into his seat.

  “Hey, guys. Not now. Get your heads on straight and no fucking around. Okay? We’ve got to win this,” Griff Montgomery said. The murmurs of agreement echoed through the vehicle. Devon settled in, but not before glaring at Brodsky, who shot him the finger.

  Devon heard him mutter to his seat-mate, “Thinks his sister is too good for me. Fuck that.”

  Since they had been little, Devon had always defended Samantha. She had been much smaller than he was from the get-go. With all their other siblings being so much older, Devon an
d Sam had relied on each other. She had been well-behaved, except for a short-lived wild streak when she was fifteen, so watching out for her hadn’t been hard. But now, she was full-grown, and the job grew to be as big as a mountain. Samantha was beautiful. With silky hair as dark as his and eyes as smoldering as pools of the darkest chocolate, she was a man-magnet.

  Men came up to her at malls, in the grocery store, at football games, and tried to start conversations. Samantha was a friendly girl and always stopped to chat. This made her brother crazy. How could he protect her if she’d talk to any stranger who wandered into her path? She had argued with him that it was a free country, and she’d talk to whoever she wanted.

  This disagreement had been going on for years. Except when Sam had found a steady boyfriend at nineteen who lasted for two years. Devon had been convinced they would get married, and his days guarding his sister’s virtue would be coming to an end. Then, the guy had run off with another woman and broken Sam’s heart. It had taken her six months to start dating again. Devon had wanted to kill him. He’d become wary of anyone who crossed her path. So they argued, like the Calico Cat and the Gingham Dog, battling, though caring about each other.

  But Bullhorn Brodsky was over the line. He heard what the guys talked about in the locker room and how they discussed women. He’d be damned if he’d listen to Brodsky talk about his sister that way.

  Lawson Breaker, known to the guys as “the Kid” because he’d been a young draft pick, graduating from college at twenty years old, sat next to Devon. “Cool it, Dev. Take it easy. Bull’s not gonna do anything. You gotta focus on the game. We need you in there all the way.”

  “You’re right. I need to focus.”

  Devon stared out the window as he turned his thoughts to the memory of making love to Stormy. She had been sweetly responsive, even ticklish. They had laughed, rolled around on the bed, wrestling. Of course, he had subdued her, but with her consent. Their roughhousing had made the loving powerful, and satisfying. He sighed and smiled. I’m lucky.