Quarterback Draw

His mom shot him a look.

  "Okay, fine. You want to know what happened? I asked her and the kids to move in with me, and she decided to flee back to New York."

  "Because?"

  He threw his hands in the air. "Because ... hell if I know why. She said I took charge of her life and made all these decisions and I never gave her the chance to decide if that's what she wanted or some bullshit like that."

  "I see."

  He looked over at his mom. "Which is not at all what happened, by the way."

  When his mother didn't say anything, he thought about it. About how he'd just showed up at Katrina's apartment in New York, and basically took over all the decision making from there.

  "Okay, maybe I did. Just a little."

  "You do realize how important her independence is to her, don't you?"

  "Yes. And maybe I bulldozed my way into her life more than I should have. And maybe I could have been a little gentler in my suggestions." He turned in the seat to face his mother. "I love her, Mom. I don't want to lose her."

  His mother leaned forward and patted his hand. "Then go see what it's going to take to get her back. My guess is she's miserable without you and doesn't know what to do, either. The two of you need to communicate your needs to each other and figure out how to make it work."

  He sighed and leaned back in the seat. "Why couldn't this be easy like you and Dad were?"

  His mother laughed. "You think he and I getting together was easy? Your father was a bullheaded alpha male who thought women would fall at his feet. And I was an independent feminist who in no way wanted anything to do with an arrogant athlete. He decided one day that we should just get married. I told him I intended to stay single, and no way in hell would I ever marry a man like him anyway. He didn't have a romantic bone in his entire body, and I was convinced that, even though I loved him like crazy, we could never see eye to eye on anything."

  Grant arched a brow. "So not the story Dad tells."

  "Of course it isn't. He always has to come out the hero."

  "So how did you end up saying yes?"

  "He finally swallowed his pride and was honest with me and told me he wouldn't make it if I wasn't in his life, and that he was only half a man without me. And then your strong, testosterone-filled father got down on one knee and, with honest-to-God tears in his eyes, proposed marriage to me."

  Grant couldn't imagine. "Wow."

  "Yeah. And so your independent feminist mother bawled like a baby and said yes. It was sloppy and romantic and if you ever tell anyone I told you this story I'll totally deny it."

  Grant laughed. "Your secret is safe with me, Mom. But thanks for sharing it."

  "Sometimes you just have to let the woman you love know how you really feel. And own up to the mistakes you've made."

  Now he understood where he'd gone wrong. And how he had to fix it.

  THIRTY-TWO

  KATRINA HAD TRIED MULTIPLE TIMES TO CALL AND text Grant, but he wasn't answering. She knew he wasn't playing a game today. She'd checked his schedule, and he was due to play New England in the opening game of the season on Sunday, which she knew was a big deal.

  So maybe he was in meetings or practice or traveling or something. Either way, she was going to keep trying until he answered his phone. Though he was probably avoiding her.

  She couldn't blame him.

  Leo and Anya were spending the next couple of days at camp, the last before school geared up. She figured they mainly just wanted to get away from her. Not that she could blame them.

  She had to admit, the quiet unnerved her, forcing her to think about all the stupid mistakes she'd made.

  She had walked away from the best thing that had ever happened to her, and all because she was afraid of change, of losing her independence.

  Afraid of the past.

  Now the only thing she was afraid of was that Grant would never agree to give her a second chance.

  Her doorbell rang. She frowned, knowing she hadn't ordered a delivery.

  She pressed the button. "Yes?"

  "Katrina."

  Her heart slammed against her chest. "Grant?"

  "Yeah. Can I come up?"

  "Yes, of course." She pressed the button, unable to believe he was here.

  She took a step back and looked down at herself. She wore a pair of workout capris and a tank top, and her hair was in a high ponytail.

  It would have to do, because he was going to be here in a ...

  He knocked on the door and she opened it. She wanted to cry seeing him standing there in his cargo pants and white T-shirt. He looked tanned and gorgeous and it took every ounce of willpower in her to stop herself from hugging him.

  "Come in."

  He stepped inside and she closed the door.

  "Thanks for seeing me. I wasn't sure if you'd be home."

  "Yes. I'm home. Just ... hanging out."

  Well, this was awkward.

  "Where are the kids?" he asked as he looked around the apartment.

  "They're at camp for a couple of days. I think they're mad at me."

  "Oh."

  "Grant ..."

  "Before you say anything, I have something I need to say to you."

  "Okay."

  "First, I'm sorry. You were right."

  She was confused. "I was?"

  "Yeah. I did take charge of your life. I barged in here and made you go sightseeing and eat hot dogs and go to ball games and take all those trips without once asking if that's what you wanted. I was kind of ... I don't know what the word is ... bowled over by you, and I guess I didn't want to give you the option of telling me to take a hike, so I wanted to insinuate myself into your life and not give you the chance to say no until you fell head over heels in love with me. Or something like that. Even I can't explain it, Kat. All I know is from the moment I met you, I wanted to see you all the time."

  Her lips curved. "That's not necessarily a bad thing."

  "Maybe not. But it is if in any way I trampled all over your independence. I know how important that is to you, and for that, I'm sorry. Because if anyone has earned the right to be independent, it's you. So if you and the kids don't want to move to St. Louis, then you don't have to."

  "Thank you."

  "So I'll move to New York."

  Her gaze shot to his. "What?"

  He took a few steps toward her and picked up her hand. "I love you, Katrina. I need to know if the feeling is mutual."

  She shuddered in an inhale. She had been so worried that she'd lost him. Hearing those words made relief fall over her like a heavy rainstorm. "Yes. The feeling is mutual. I love you, too."

  His entire expression changed, from guarded to happy. "You don't know how happy that makes me."

  "I'll have to live in St. Louis during football season, but I can sell the house and buy a condo there. Then during off-season, I can live in New York with you and the kids."

  She realized the sacrifices he was willing to make to be with her.

  "Why would you do that?"

  "Move?"

  She nodded. "You would give up your amazing house in St. Louis to come live in New York with me?"

  "That's what you do when you love someone, Kat. Home is a place you live with your family. And you, Anya, and Leo are my family. So it can be any place where you and the kids feel safe and happy. And I will always support you emotionally, because you're important to me."

  "You wouldn't be happy in New York."

  "I'll be happy being with you. Wherever that is."

  Tears pricked her eyes and she tried to swipe them, but they just kept coming.

  For so long she had it wrong. So very wrong.

  Home wasn't a place, it was a state of mind, a place in the heart.

  Grant was in her heart. He had been from that zing she felt in Barbados during their first photo shoot when their eyes met and their bodies touched. It didn't matter where she lived, because as long as they were together, she'd be happy.

  She laid her pal
m on his chest over his heart. "This is home to me. No matter where we live, geography doesn't matter, this is always going to be home. And the kids want to be with us, so as long as we're together, they'll be happy.

  "I love the house in St. Louis. I can sell this place and keep a smaller apartment here for when I need to work here, and I can continue to fly all over to do my job. Neither of us has to give up anything, Grant. But we can have everything we both want--each other."

  He gathered her close. "All I want is you. All I need to be happy is you."

  "That's all I want. You."

  He kissed her, and all her fears and uncertainties dissolved.

  She had everything she'd ever wanted right here, sheltered in the arms of the man she loved. A man who would never abandon her, who would never ask her to give up anything.

  Because he would always be everything she needed.

  He kissed her, and warmth turned to passion. His lips were everywhere. On hers, on her neck, her shoulder, and she pulled off her shirt so she could feel the burn of his kisses everywhere. She tunneled her fingers under his shirt to feel the heat of his skin under her hands.

  He drew his shirt off, and they kissed and walked their way into the bedroom, clothes flying as they did. She fell onto the bed with Grant following on top of her. His mouth came down on hers as he gathered her close, his hand cradling the side of her neck.

  "I was meant to be with you," she said.

  "Yes."

  And those were the only words they said as passion took over. She pulled a condom out of her bedside drawer and he put it on, then slid inside her.

  Perfect. How could she ever think she could live without this man, when he made her feel so much? When he moved inside of her and shook her very world on its axis every single time.

  He clasped his fingers with hers and took every stroke, every thrust with his gaze locked in hers. And when she shattered, they were looking at each other in the most intimate way. It was heady and it made her cry.

  After, he held her and kissed her, neither of them moving for a very long time.

  She loved him. She trusted him and she'd never let him go.

  Finally, he rolled to the side to dispose of the condom, but came right back to gather her in his arms. It was an idyllic, perfect day. She swept her hand over his chest, then looked up at him and smiled.

  "One thing we need to get straight, though," she said. "It's pretty serious."

  He looked down at her. "What's that?"

  "I don't think I'm ever going to learn to love hot dogs."

  He laughed. "I can probably live with that."

  She affected a huge sigh of relief. "So glad to hear it."

  They got dressed and Katrina fixed them glasses of iced tea, then they settled in the living room.

  "So, when can we tell Leo and Anya?"

  She looked over at him, so happy that he'd think of her brother and sister. It was one of the reasons she loved him so much. "I'll call them tomorrow. Tonight, you're all mine."

  He leaned over and pulled her onto his lap. "No, Kat. I'm all yours forever."

  Yes, he was.

  Dear Reader,

  Thanks so much for reading Quarterback Draw. I hope you enjoyed Grant and Katrina's love story.

  Coming up in August of 2015 is All Wound Up, the next book in the Play-By-Play series, which features Tucker Cassidy, one of Grant's brothers. Tucker's got his hands full with Aubry Ross, daughter of Clyde Ross, the St. Louis Rivers baseball team owner. You met Aubry briefly in Changing the Game. She's been in medical school, and she's busy enough with her residency and doesn't have time to play games with a hotshot pitcher. The sparks fly between these two, though, and I hope you enjoy the excerpt from All Wound Up included here.

  Also coming up next in my Hope contemporary romance series is Love After All, releasing in April 2015. Love After All is Chelsea and Bash's story. Chelsea's looking for the perfect man, and to land him, she's compiled a top-ten list of the things she's looking for in a man. Bash doesn't fit the criteria, but the chemistry between them is explosive. Can a man who doesn't match her list be the perfect man for her after all? I hope you enjoy a peek into Chelsea and Bash's story with the Love After All excerpt included here.

  Happy reading,

  Jaci

  CHELSEA GARDNER SAT AT THE NO HOPE AT ALL BAR, waiting for her friends.

  While she waited, she got out her notebook and doodled.

  Okay, maybe she wasn't doodling. She was on a mission.

  The ten-point list made perfect sense to her. She'd fine-tuned it, but really, she'd had this list in her head for a while now, and decided it was time to memorialize it, get it down on paper. Maybe even laminate it.

  Chelsea was thirty-two years old, and the one thing she knew and knew well was men. She had years of dating history, and she could weed out a decent man from a loser in the first fifteen minutes of a date.

  She should write a book about it. She'd probably make millions.

  Okay, in reality, maybe not. But she had a lot of experience in dating. She could offer up some valuable advice. At least advice on how to date the wrong man.

  Hence the list.

  Her list would ensure she found the right man--finally. She was tired of going out on useless dates. From now on, she was going to ask the correct questions, so she wouldn't waste any more time on the wrong man. If a prospective date didn't possess each and every one of the listed qualities, then he wasn't the perfect man for her.

  Her list wasn't going to focus on personality traits. She already knew in her head the type of guy she wanted--warm, caring, compassionate, with a sense of humor. If he didn't possess those basics, he'd be out of the running before they even got started. And those she could suss out right away without a list. Nor did she have a preference for looks. No, this list was compatibility based. That's where she'd run into roadblocks in the past and where she was going to focus her efforts in the future.

  She scanned her list, nodding as she ticked off the attributes in her head.

  Never married.

  Has to be a suit-and-tie kind of guy, because it means he cares about his appearance.

  Has to work a 9-to-5 job, so he'll be available for her.

  No crazy ex-girlfriends.

  Likes fine dining and good wine.

  Hates sports. Everything about sports.

  Must want at least two kids.

  Must love animals--preferably big dogs, not those yippy little dogs.

  Doesn't spend all his time at the bar with his friends.

  Idea of a perfect weekend getaway is somewhere warm and tropical. With room service.

  She studied the list, tapping the pencil on the bar top.

  "You look deep in thought."

  Her head shot up as Sebastian "Bash" Palmer, the owner of the bar, stood in front of her.

  Talk about the wrong guy.

  "I'm ... working on something."

  He cocked a dark brow. "Yeah? I noticed you busy writing. Grocery list?"

  "Funny. And no."

  He leaned over, trying to sneak a peek. "The perfect--"

  She shut the notebook. "None of your business."

  He laid the rag on the bar. "Hmm. The perfect something. The perfect steak. That was it, wasn't it? You've got some secret recipe for the perfect steak. That's the way to a man's heart, you know."

  "You think I'd be trying to capture a man by cooking. Well, you're wrong."

  He laid his palms on the edge of the bar. "So, it does have something to do with a guy, doesn't it?"

  She refused to take the bait. "I didn't say that."

  A couple guys came into the bar and took a seat.

  "We're not done talking about this," he said, his stormy gray eyes making contact with hers before he walked away.

  Oh, they were so done talking about it.

  Typical Bash, always up in her business.

  And he was definitely the wrong type of man for her.

  While Bash attende
d to his customers, she opened the notebook and checked her list.

  Yes, Bash was the perfect example of the wrong type of guy. She mentally ticked off all the items on her list that he didn't fit.

  He was divorced. And he was a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of guy. And while he might look super hot in said jeans and T-shirt, it still counted against him.

  She wasn't sure he even owned a suit. As owner of the No Hope At All Bar, he worked terrible hours. As a teacher, she worked during the day, and he worked afternoons and evenings. They'd never see each other.

  She had no idea who he was dating, but he was always going out with some woman or another, so he likely had some crazy ex-girlfriend somewhere in his past. She knew he was a beer-and-hard-liquor guy, and his idea of fine dining was a burger and onion rings from Bert's. He wouldn't know fine dining if it slapped him in the face. She had no idea how he felt about kids, but the guy lived at the bar, and he hadn't had a serious relationship since his divorce, so it wasn't like he was in any hurry to have children. And he didn't have any animals as far as she knew.

  Then again, she didn't have pets, either. But that wasn't her fault. Her apartment didn't allow them. She just wanted to make sure whatever guy she ended up with loved them. She wanted a dog. Or a cat. She'd never had either. Emma had two dogs, and Jane had a dog. Logan and Des had several dogs on the ranch.

  She'd always wanted pets, and had never been allowed to have any.

  She shook her head. Back to her list.

  Oh, right. Not hanging out at the bar with the guys all night. That answer was self-explanatory, since that was pretty much all Bash did. All the time.

  And she had no idea what his idea of a perfect vacation would be, but she highly doubted it involved room service. Bash had an ATV and she knew he was an outdoors kind of guy.

  Whereas Chelsea was allergic to everything outdoorsy.

  See? They were not compatible in the least. Bash had failed everything on her list.

  She closed her notebook and tucked it back in her purse.

  Why was she even comparing Bash to her list anyway? It wasn't like he was remotely in the running. Even if there had been that night she and the girls had come here during the holidays. And maybe she had been a little on the inebriated side, and maybe Bash had whispered something in her ear that even several months later still made her blush hot, and still kept her up at night thinking about--

  "The perfect drink."

  She pulled herself out of that very erotic daydream, and met Bash's teasing gaze. "What?"