Completing the Pass Page 15

  “Trey Owens isn’t fishy!” she called at the TV before she realized it. Then she shrank back into the couch. “Whoops.”

  “Darn right,” Herb said, holding out his hand for a high five. Carri grinned and gave him a gentle tap before giving up the pretense of ignoring the game entirely.

  “Did I miss it?” Gail Leeman rushed in, having obviously let herself in through the front door. “Did I— Oh, Carri, hello. I didn’t think you’d be joining us to watch.”

  “Just here for the food and drink,” Carri said, holding up her lemonade.

  Gail laughed a little and took a spot beside Maeve on the love seat. Her hands were clenched between her knees and her legs bounced on the balls of her feet. She wore a Bobcats shirt herself, but it was clearly a women’s fitted tee. Carri suddenly felt a little left out not sporting some ’Cats gear.

  “It remains to be seen if Leeman can handle the pressure,” the first commentator said. “He’s done well enough in preseason games before, but there was always the safety of knowing Owens was there to save his biscuits if it came to it. Owens is out, at least for now. Let’s see how he handles it.”

  Carri’s own fist clenched so hard around her glass she feared it might shoot out of her hand. With deliberate care, she set it on the table beside her and forced herself to relax back into the couch. Surf the Internet, play around a little, let the game be background noise. Like a jackhammer or buzz saw at a jobsite. Let it soothe away the rough edges like a palm sander against sheetrock. Just let it all go and—

  “Jesus Christ!” Herb shot up, and Carri nearly bobbled her laptop to be there in case he crashed back down. “That was a flubbing bullet that boy just threw. Did you see that?” He looked down at Carri, who just shook her head. With a snort and a wave, he looked at Gail. “Did you see that? When was the last time you saw your son do that?”

  Gail looked a little mystified herself, but she held up her hands in wonder. “I guess . . . never. Oh! Touchdown!” she shrieked, jumping up to give Herb a hug and to dance a little jig. “It’s going to be okay! This season is going to be okay.”

  Carri wanted to snort. Of course it was. Where was the faith? These people who loved Josh so unconditionally didn’t think he had it in him?

  He had everything under control.

  It was Carri’s sparkling, dancing, bubbling nerves where Joshua Leeman was concerned that were totally out of control.

  ***

  Josh dragged himself in from his car, through the parking garage, and into the lobby of his apartment complex. When he walked in, he saw a member of the janitorial staff emptying a trash bin by the elevators. He gave Josh a silent thumbs up of acknowledgement, but that was all. When Josh turned to catch the eye of the reception-desk attendant, she clapped her hands together soundlessly, bouncing a little in her seat. The reaction was so youthful and cheery—a contrast to her drab uniform blazer and white button-down shirt—that Josh smiled. Then she waved him over.

  “Hey . . .” he said, trying to double check his memory with her name tag. ”. . . Amanda. What’s up?”

  “First off, congratulations on your first win of the season.” She said it in hushed tones. His complex had a very strict no-gushing policy with the occupants . . . for which he was supremely grateful. “And secondly, there’s someone here to see you. She’s not on your list of guests, but she’s also not media, so I had her wait in the outer lobby.”

  Her? Fighting against hope, Josh turned to the seating area and found the object of his lust sitting primly on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, flipping through a magazine. She hadn’t yet noticed him, so he had the opportunity to observe her from a distance.

  Despite the rest of the city in blue-and-gold mania, Carri wore a simple pair of khaki capris, a purple top, and flip-flops. Her hair was pushed away from her face with a headband, and if she wore makeup, he couldn’t tell.

  “Amanda, I’d like to add someone to my approved visitors list,” he said quietly, taking the form she handed him and filling it out quickly. It gave Carri access to the elevators and beyond, but he’d still have to give her a key if he wanted her to gain access to his specific apartment. After filling out the information, he told her they’d get Carri’s picture in the system another time.

  Walking slowly, he approached Carri on the couch. When she still didn’t notice him as he stood over her, he crouched to eye level. She flipped another page, unaware.

  “Carrington.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she sang, flipping another page. “Your lobby needs new magazines. This one’s a month old.”

  He chuckled and pulled it from her grasp, letting it fall to the nearby table with a plop. “I don’t think they want people sitting around, reading all day long in their lobby.”

  “Hmm,” she said, looking up at him as he stood. When he held out a hand, she took it and let him pull her up. “I—”

  He stopped her with a brief kiss. “Let’s wait until we’re upstairs,” he suggested, then walked to the elevator with her hand still in his. It felt good. Felt right, that she was there with him after a game. That she could sit with him and help him come down from the high of being on the right side of the scoreboard for the first time this year, even if it was just preseason.

  In the elevator, his thumb caressed the inside of her palm, and she shivered. He let go of her hand and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her tight against him. When she melted without hesitation, his heart clutched. Her floral scented shampoo worked like a calming agent over his nerves.

  As each number flashed by, she grew heavier against him, until her hand slipped under his shirt, caressing his bare skin. “Carri . . .”

  “Let’s wait until we’re upstairs,” she parroted back, dragging her fingernails over his spine. He shivered and edged away from the spooky feeling. “Or you could use some of that pent-up energy and kiss me now.”

  He did that, but only a peck. When she looked annoyed, he motioned to the top corner. A very obvious camera, monitored all the time, he knew, by the security staff, sat aimed at them. “I’d rather not give Amanda or whoever is manning the security feed a peep show, if that’s all the same to you.”

  “You weren’t so shy in the eleventh grade, when you had Gabriella Starsky pinned to the back wall of the school with your hand under her shirt,” she commented, giving him a knowing smile. “Old age has really softened you.”

  “I wasn’t actually copping a feel from Gabby, you perv.” He poked her in the ribs, then kissed her harder than necessary as a teasing punishment. “But if you would rather think of me as a natural-born Casanova, go for it.”

  “I’d rather think of you naked,” she murmured, “doing things I’d be too embarrassed to say out loud, except that we’re in here all alone.”

  “Yeah?” He nipped at her ear discretely, his cock hardening with each breath. “Like?”

  “Like maybe, if you had me all spread out on the bed and—”

  Ding.

  “Damn it!” Josh glared at the traitorous elevator display cheerfully blinking his floor number.

  “Whoops.” With a little laugh, Carri slid out of his hold and walked through the opening doors.

  “Whoops,” he growled. Reaching down, he adjusted himself in his suit pants and took off with her.

  ***

  Carri felt him behind her before he wrapped one arm around her to pull her tight against his front. His growing erection was unmistakable against her backside. She swallowed a shriek just as his lips touched below her ear.

  “Don’t think you’re getting away from telling me your laundry list of things you’re too embarrassed to say out loud. I’ll drag it out of you.”

  “Just try,” she said, annoyed she sounded breathless as his hand crept up and cupped her breast through her shirt. “No . . . no security cameras up here?”

  “None that I’ve no
ticed.” He lied so smoothly. His lips were hot and damp against her throat. “Don’t change the subject.”

  “If you want to know, we need to—mmm. Okay, you can do that again,” she said, relenting when his lips sucked gently on her skin.

  Instead, he started walking her toward his door. When they reached it, he fumbled a little with the keys. A door three apartments down opened, and Carri heard Josh’s name being called out.

  “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” he muttered, and kept working on the lock as if he hadn’t heard it. But when he actually dropped the keys, Carri looked over his shoulder to see a large black man in a suit similar to Josh’s walking toward them.

  “Leeman, man. Where you going?” The man stopped and pounded a huge paw onto Josh’s shoulder. “Party in my room, ten minutes. We’ve got some crisp refreshments coming up.” Then he noticed Carri and gave her a smooth smile. “You’re welcome to bring your company. More the merrier.”

  “Thanks, D’Ante,” he said, stepping just a little in front of Carri. “We’re going to pass, though. Private celebration.”

  “I see, I see.” With a wink, the man kept walking past, then pounded on another door five down from them. “Get your ass over there, Stuttard!” he bellowed before moving down to continue knocking on doors.

  “We could have gone,” Carri said as Josh finally got the door open. “Or you could have gone and I would have headed home. I came uninvited. I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Yes, you do. You’ve always loved intruding.” Josh tossed his keys onto his kitchen table and flung the sports coat in the same general direction. The tie quickly followed. His eyes, however, never left hers. “That used to drive me insane when we were kids.”

  “I know.” It’s why she’d always done it.

  “The habit is growing on me,” he added, grabbing her and yanking her against him for another kiss. His hands worked on the waistband of her capris, pulling and tugging until they pooled around her flip flops. Then he simply palmed her butt and hiked her up until she hitched her legs around his waist. He walked until he landed on the couch, with her straddled on top him.

  “This doesn’t look like the bed.” She wriggled, pressing her knees more firmly into the couch cushions and her panty-covered core against his erection. “And it doesn’t feel like the bed.”

  “Change of scenery.” He dipped one finger beneath the elastic of her underwear, and she nearly puddled into liquid need right there. “So, was this one of those things you couldn’t say in the hallway?”

  Carri fought for something snappy to say, some fast quip. But that was the problem with fast quips . . . if you had to fight for them, they lost their edge. So she just bit her lip and shook her head, grinding into his touch.

  “Not dirty enough, huh? Full of surprises, my Carrington Gray.” He chuckled, then she kissed him and his chuckles died out against her tongue. He worked a second finger into her, using his thumb against her clit until she had a small orgasm.

  Before her shock waves could even die off, he ripped at the seams of her panties and let them hang off one leg. “Josh!”

  “I can’t wait.” He unbuckled his pants, pushed them and his boxers down his legs and freed his cock. “Your fault,” he accused without anger. There was heat, though.

  She began to sink down before his hands pulled her back with a curse. “What?”

  “Condom. In the bedroom. Damn it,” he bit out. “This is why a change of scenery never works.”

  “I’m on birth control,” she said before she could think.

  He watched her a moment, eyes narrowed. “Do you trust me?”

  “I trust you.” Her answer was instantaneous. She’d never trusted someone more than him. Regardless of their frenemy status as kids . . . she knew he’d never hurt her.

  He took that at face value, and pulsed up and into her. Carri’s head fell back between her shoulder blades as she wriggled and found the most comfortable spot, where he was so deep inside her it felt like there was no separation.

  “God, Carrington.” His voice was a hiss, his hands like clamps as he squeezed her hips. “God. You have to move, or I’m going to die.”

  The power . . . she was a heady thing. Looking down at him a little with a small smile, she squeezed her inner muscles around him.

  He let out a more vile curse. “Carrington.”

  “Oh, you big baby. Can’t take a little”—she squeezed again—“teasing?”

  His hands tightened their grip. “You’re going to regret this later, you know. I’ll make you pay.”

  “Do your worst, Leeman. I’m not worried.” She circled her hips to the left then, and had the supreme satisfaction of watching his eyes glaze with pleasure. Oh, yeah. Now who was the puddle of need? When she circled the opposite way, his lips turned white as he pressed them together. “Oh, fine.”

  She chose a rhythm that she hoped would draw it out, but he was already too far gone. A few thrusts, and he buried his face between her still-covered breasts and let out a hoarse cry—her name—as he came.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Carri checked her e-mails a few days later, happy to see a report from Jess. It was curt, to the point, but not unfriendly. Professional. It’s all she needed at the moment. After reading through the report, she shot back a quick reply and then checked her text messages. Nada from Josh. Who, if she were being honest with herself, was the only person she was waiting to hear from.

  On the road for preseason game two, she hated that she wouldn’t get to see him for several days. And that . . . was a punch in the gut. That she actually craved Josh Leeman’s company.

  “Where you off to, Dad?” she asked as he stood from the kitchen table where he’d been working on a word search. She’d read in some article online that word searches and puzzles helped keep the mind sharp longer. He hated crosswords, and Sudoku made him angry. But word searches seemed to work.

  “Bathroom,” he said gruffly. “Need to know if it’s number one or two?”

  She resisted the urge to groan. Another day of decent memory, but anger layered on top. “No, thanks, Dad. I’m good.”

  He grunted, then shuffled off toward the master bathroom in his slippers. Some days, he didn’t even bother getting dressed anymore. When she was a teen, even on weekends when he wouldn’t leave the house, Carri remembered Herb getting dressed in casual clothes.

  Just another piece of her father slowly slipping away. Fuck this disease.

  Josh had been an unexpected—but welcome—rock when she’d needed someone to run to. And Maeve had been all too happy to rush home after work to give her a chance to take off and “go be young.” Maeve code for “Go hang out with Joshua.”

  Her mother had been smiling far too often for Carri’s comfort lately.

  She went back to her phone, scrolling through social media for a few minutes before she realized her father had been gone longer than she’d thought. With a sigh, she pocketed the phone and started to wander back toward the bedroom. Stopping by the closed master bedroom door, she called out, “Dad? I’m thinking of popping some popcorn. Do you want any?”

  No answer.

  “Dad?”

  “Uh . . .” His voice sounded a bit raspy to her, so she opened the master bedroom door so she could hear him better.

  “Dad?” she asked again, standing a few feet away from the closed en suite door. “Popcorn?”

  “I . . . uh . . . Maeve?”

  Oh, God. She closed her eyes and battled for a moment on how to handle the situation when she saw a thin tendril of smoke slithered out under the bathroom’s closed door.

  “Dad.” Voice firm, she knocked. “Dad, are you smoking?”

  “Smoking? What damn kind of nonsense question is that? I’ve never smoked a day in my life!”

  So he’d forgotten that he used to smoke a pipe twenty years ago
. With a deep breath, Carri knocked once more and said, “I’m coming in, Dad.”

  “No, you are not!” he shot back, but she cracked open the door anyway.

  The good news was, she immediately saw her father was fully clothed, not on the toilet, and not smoking.

  The bad news was, the towels hanging over the tub were smoking . . . because they’d caught fire from the candles sitting directly below them. Orange-yellow flames licked up the long bath towels, turning the wall behind and above them a charred black.

  “Ooooooh my God.” With a quick look around, she reached into the shower and grabbed the detachable showerhead, put on the water full blast, and aimed it at the bathtub. With a hiss and a lot more smoke, the fire quickly doused out. She shut the water off and let the showerhead dangle from the cord.

  In the silence, each drip of water onto the tiles sounded like a gunshot.

  “That . . . was not how that was supposed to go,” Herb finally stuttered out.

  Ya think? Carri bit back the frustrated, irritated thought and took a deep breath. Then another. “Dad, can you go get a few towels to mop this up?”

  “I . . . I just . . .” Herb shook his head and his hands rubbed over his face. Those hands trembled more than a little. “I wanted to draw a bath for your mother,” he mumbled, and shuffled out to the hallway.

  “God, Dad,” Carri whispered, broken.

  ***

  Josh sat in his hotel room and debated calling his mother, as he usually did, after road games. Preseason games two and three had both been away, and they’d gone straight from Minnesota to Massachusetts, meaning he’d been gone for nearly a week. Maybe that made him a mama’s boy, but he couldn’t have cared less. The woman who worked her ass off to raise him deserved a five-minute phone call from her son once in a while.

  But he found his fingers tapping in a different contact’s name and hitting the Send button.