Elliott had just blown the whistle to end practice when he felt Peggy approach at his back. Or rather, his players started shoving one another, throwing their chins in his direction, when they thought he didn’t see. Had he not put the fear of God into these men yet? Tomorrow’s practice was going to be hell.
The hell of right now concerned him more, however. In a matter of seconds, he’d be in her presence again. Her. And there was a good reason for his team and fellow coaches to be staring with their mouths open while Peggy probably swayed up like a runway model. Not only was she a bombshell that always seemed poised to go off any second, but no one ever approached him. If someone got up the nerve to wave or shout his name from the stands, it was a rarity. They just stared at him, as if he were the statue they’d erected in his honor outside the stadium.
Peggy had no such problem, apparently. In fact, before Elliott even turned around, he could sense her reveling in not giving a fuck, and panic slid into his blood like a sea monster. She’d gotten even braver. Brave enough to divert his path again?
No. Not after all the work he’d done to build it.
During those months of madness her senior year, she’d come to him at night. Or vice versa. When no one else was around. They’d be on each other before the sound of the knock even faded. Christ, he’d taken Peggy in a way he’d never allowed himself before she’d made a home in his head. Without restraint. No boundaries. Zero patience.
Too much of a danger to a man whose entire life was made up of rules. Rules that kept him from looking right or left. Straight ahead only.
“Head to the showers,” Elliott boomed, pleased when everyone moved at once, without hesitating, like he’d conditioned them to do. “We’ll be back here tomorrow, bright and early. Scrimmage against the B squad.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“Yes, Coach,” came the amused feminine echo behind him. He thought the hour since Peggy arrived had given him time to prepare, but he was wrong. When he turned around, his gut screwed up like a fist. Fuck. Still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. It was more than just her blond pinup looks, though, wasn’t it? Always had been. There was enough sharp wit in those dark gold eyes for a man to get lost. Like he’d almost done once.
“Peggy,” Elliott said, transferring his clipboard to the crook of his arm, so they could shake hands. A reflexive move. That was how he operated. Handshakes. Giving hugs and kissing cheeks weren’t part of his day. But even the muscle memory couldn’t make it feel natural, though. Not with her.
One of Peggy’s eyebrows arched at his outstretched hand, but she recovered, twining their fingers together slowly. At the zing of static, the corner of her mouth jumped, like they’d traded a secret, and God help him, his cock thickened in his jeans. “Elliott,” she murmured. “You look exactly the same.”
He took his hand back out of necessity. “Three years isn’t all that long.”
“No. I guess not.” For just a second, he thought her flirtatious smile turned forced, but it came back with such a glow, he figured it was his imagination. “It was long enough for them to put a giant statue of you at the entrance.” Her teeth sank into that full lower lip and held, long enough to drive him a little insane. “I bet you hate it, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Damn. It didn’t seem possible so much time had passed since they’d stood across from each other. Not when she could still call his bullshit a mile away, the way no one else ever had. “They could have waited until I was dead or retired.”
“When it comes to you, I don’t think those things are mutually exclusive.” She hummed in her throat, her gaze tripping over his chest, lower. “Anyway, they already think you’re God, so your immortality is a reasonable assumption.” When she took a step closer, he almost dropped the clipboard. In favor of staving her off or yanking her closer? He had no idea. But she only lifted a finger, trailing the smooth pad across the seam of his lips. “The sculptor didn’t get your mouth right, though. It’s much more generous, isn’t it?” Elliott snagged her wrist and her eyes lit with challenge. “Or maybe the sculptor just hasn’t experienced it the way I have.”
Lust and irritation joined forces in his blood, making it boil. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here, Peggy?”
The seduction in her expression lost steam. “That’s the first thing you ever said to me.” She visibly shook herself, tugging her hand from his grip. “I’m here for alumni weekend. Obviously.”
Still stuck on the former statement she’d made, it took him a moment to catch up. “You’ve never come before.”
He counted three breaths from her mouth. “Noticed, did you?”
Time-out. He would have called one if they were in the middle of a game and both sides were firing too hot, swinging on the unpredictable vines of momentum. In many ways, this confrontation so far had been a game. A testing of each other’s strengths. Well, they were standing on his field. And on his field, he didn’t deal well with surprises and unknowns. Time to put everything out in the open, even though he could feel acid rising in his throat. “Are you here with your husband?”
She froze so long, he wondered if she would answer him at all. “Um. No, he—he’s back in California.” A wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows. “I wasn’t sure…I—I didn’t know if you received the wedding invitation. You were moving houses when I left Cincinnati and—”
“My mail was forwarded,” Elliot said, his voice low. “I got it.”
Peggy backed away with an uneven nod. The currents running between them had changed so abruptly, but he couldn’t decide on a reason. He’d admit to mentioning her husband as a way to throw up a necessary wall between them, but—
Elliott’s phone rang.
He cursed, digging the device from his back pocket, frowning down at his daughter’s name where it flashed on the screen. “Alice,” he said to Peggy without thinking. “She should be in theater rehearsal.”
“You should answer it,” Peggy said, still backing away from him. Way too quickly. “Maybe I’ll see you around—”
“Hold on.” He should have let her go. God knew he should have. But Elliott didn’t walk away from an interaction without a final score on the board. And he swore the stadium lights had shorted out somewhere in the middle of the game. “Just stay right there.”
She tilted her head. “I’m not one of your players.”
“Please,” he growled.
When Peggy shrugged—and stayed put—Elliott answered the phone, teen angst meeting his ear in full stereo. “Dad, I have to change schools. My fucking life is over. You don’t understand—”
“Watch your language. And you haven’t given me a chance to understand.”
A closemouthed shriek scraped down the line. One with which he was well acquainted. “Kim Steinberg broke her leg skiing this weekend and I’m the understudy for her character in The Music Man and I don’t have the lines memorized. I faked my way through it, because she’s never even missed a day of school. Like, ever. Why would she want to stay home when she looks like that? Oh God, oh God. The fucking performance is in five days and I—I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You don’t give a shit about my life.”
Elliott watched Peggy’s expression melt into soft sympathy, whether for him or Alice, he didn’t know, but it was too reminiscent of those times he’d confided in her. A rarity for him, to say the least, and something he had no right to miss. “Three days seems more than sufficient to memorize the lines.” He pressed the heel of his hand into his eye socket. “I have a few more hours here watching game film, but when I get home—”
“I never ask you for anything, Dad.” Her breath snagged on the final word. “I just need help with this. Please. You don’t understand.”
Guilt battled against the never-ending pressure to win, win at all costs. “Alice,” he said tightly. “We’re playing Temple on Saturday—”
Peggy laid a land on his arm. “I can go,” she whispered, looking a little surprised at herself for making the offer. That made two of them.
“Hold on a second, Alice.” Elliott covered the phone with his hand. Trying not to be obvious, he sucked in the scent of Peggy. She’d swept it forward on her second approach, and it brought forth flashes of her head thrown back on his pillow, her mouth laughing into his neck. “That’s not necessary.”
“It sounds pretty necessary.” She took back her touch, fingers curling into her palm. “Maybe just tell her I’m from the school…a fellow faculty member.”
Elliott couldn’t hide his skepticism. “You still look more like a student.”
She wet her lips in slow motion. “Noticed, did you?” Her low, seductive laugh made his boxer briefs feel two sizes too small. “Come on, I’m not meeting with my assigned alumni committee until tomorrow morning. My evening is free.” No longer meeting his eyes, she shrugged. “And I know what it’s like to lose your mother before you’re ready, so I have that in common with Alice. She probably doesn’t even know she needs the girl time.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your mother.” He itched to reach out, run a thumb over the curve of her cheekbone. “I appreciate your offer, but I think we both know any kind of involvement with one another is a bad idea.”
“Involvement is a pretty strong word.” A smile teased her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re worried for nothing.”
“It’s never nothing with you.”
She held his gaze a long moment, before turning away. “Text me your address, Elliott. My number hasn’t changed.”