CHAPTER EIGHT
THE CREDITS ROLLED UP THE SCREEN, and Mal turned to her.
“Now tell me that was boring.”
They were sitting on his couch, each at their own end, and the room was dark. He’d insisted on turning off the lights for the movie, but at least he’d made popcorn. Sabrina took another handful of popcorn and munched it.
“Definitely not boring.”
Mal pumped a fist in the air.
“I still don’t understand half of what’s going on during the game. Besides, that movie wasn’t about the game. It was about the NFL draft.”
Mal snorted. “Doesn’t matter. It was exciting. Admit it.”
“It was.” She was still teary over the part where the guy who least expected it got to be the number one pick. “It’s Kevin Costner. He makes awesome sports movies.”
“He does.”
“So what number were you? In the draft.”
“I was second overall.”
Okay, now that was impressive, especially after the movie. And if she understood the movie right, that meant he made a whole lot of money. As if she couldn’t tell that based on this house. Not for the first time, she felt a little out of sorts. He was famous, though she hadn’t known it until this morning. When she’d seen a credit card commercial with him in it, she’d understood why he’d seemed familiar to her yesterday.
In spite of his fame and money, he’d stopped to help her out of a bad spot. He was still helping her, and that made her gooey inside.
Her cheeks felt hot. He was so far out of her orbit as to be unreachable. She would do well to get her things and get the hell out, even if she did have to spend money on a hotel room.
“That had to be so exciting for you.” She was proud of herself for sounding calm when she was feeling anything other than serene.
“It was.” He ran his fingers along the back of the couch. “I’d trade it all in a minute if I could have Chris back again.”
Sabrina reached for his hand and squeezed it, even though warning bells in her head told her not to touch him. Not to encourage any intimacy. “I wish it worked that way.”
He threaded her fingers in his and didn’t let go. Her skin prickled with awareness as a ball of something hot and dark formed in her belly.
“But it doesn’t.”
“No.”
The silence stretched between them. His eyes didn’t leave hers, and her mouth grew dry.
She pulled her hand away and tucked it into her lap. “I should call the airline. I didn’t do that yet.”
She hadn’t had time. Between getting her phone, going to dinner, and watching a movie with Mal, she’d pushed the airline and the prospect of leaving from her mind. It was reality, her reality, and it had to be dealt with.
Mal sat back and reached for the remote. “Yeah, guess you should.”
Sabrina stood and headed for her room. Mal caught her hand as she walked past him. And then he was on his feet, his big body looming over hers. His touch was gentle. She didn’t feel threatened, even when he tugged her closer and put both his hands on her cheeks.
“Been wanting to do this,” he murmured before his mouth touched hers.
The kiss was light and sweet, nothing frightening or aggressive. He didn’t even use his tongue. A featherlight touch of his mouth to hers—and she melted, her fingers clutching his T-shirt as her knees went weak.
He set her away from him and watched her before he shoved a hand through his hair and looked away.
“You can change your flight and go home… or you can stay for a few days.”
“I…”
“I’m not asking you to stay and have sex with me, though yeah, that would be my preferred option. But if you want to stay and clear your head before going home…” He shrugged again. “Well, the house is big, and there’s plenty of room. Think of it like a private resort.”
She should say no. She should go and call the airline and get on the next plane out of here before she did something stupid. Because she obviously had trouble making good decisions. Just look at her wedding fiasco. Staying here with Mal Hughes, professional football player and no doubt professional heartbreaker, was asking for trouble.
“You’re thinking I’m stepping out of bounds to ask it,” he said, his voice rumbling through her. Settling into her belly and making everything tighten. “And yeah, maybe I am. Maybe it’s wrong to ask you to stay when we’ve both just been through hell. But all I know is… I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts. I don’t want to sit here in this house and think of Chris and have no one to talk to.”
“Your parents…” She was drowning, searching for a life preserver.
“Our mother remarried when Chris and I were ten. Our father remarried too. They have their own families with their new spouses, so yeah, even though I have them in my life, this still feels like being alone. Like Chris and I were outsiders in a way, though no one ever treated us like it. I have half brothers and half sisters—but it still feels like it’s only me now that Chris is gone.”
He blew out a breath. “Ah, fuck, I’m not making sense. Hell, I’m not even making sense to me.”
Sabrina’s heart hammered. Her head swam, and sweat beaded between her breasts, on her throat. She shouldn’t stay. She really shouldn’t.
Yet how could she leave?
“I’ll stay,” she said softly.