For the Love of the Game (2 page)

“That’s fine,” Seth said as pleasantly as he could so there wouldn’t be a problem.

Besides, the commercial plane had come in and the passengers were exiting. He’d pass the time gauging how each would react to the scenery. Seth took a seat and watched as each person stepped off the plane and was captivated by the beauty of the airport.

He’d had the same reaction he arrived. His first thought was if the airport looked like a hidden oasis, the rest of the island was sure to be impressive. He hadn’t been wrong. The bungalow he’d stayed in was magnificent. A picture-perfect ocean view from the deck. For the first time in a long while, he’d wished he had someone to enjoy that view with him. Loneliness was setting in and he didn’t know what to do. He’d won the Super Bowl, for heaven’s sake, and there was no one to genuinely share that moment of achievement. Sure, there were parties and plenty of opportunities to get laid, but no one to tell him that he’d done a good job, but now it was time to set new goals and achieve them.

The passengers all had looks of nervous excitement on their faces. He longed for that feeling again. That was the thing about accomplishing all your dreams at a young age. Cynicism became your new best friend. The plane passengers began to look the same, dressed in vacation battle gear. Sundresses and cabana shirts seemed to have the run of the island. Everyone fit that description except the last passenger to exit the plane. She was brown skinned and her reddish-brown hair flowed in the wind. The woman wore her sunglasses propped on her head, khaki cargo shorts, and a T-shirt that said, “Anywhere but Here.” She had a sweet, girl-next-door look, not the model-of-the-week type he’d been dating for the past two years. When she smiled, something in him warmed inside. She stopped for a moment, surveying the airport with a hopeful look on her face. Suddenly Seth didn’t feel the need to leave paradise after all.

* * *

Morgan stepped onto the white sand with her bag, ready for action. It was day three on the island, and it was finally time to test the waters. The ocean called to her, but the idea of putting on a bathing suit was more stress than she wanted on vacation. So she settled for the shortest pair of shorts she owned, a white T-shirt that bore the slogan “Down with Illiteracy,” and a big, floppy hat. She brought her hat along as a deterrent from the sun, hoping to avoid sunburn.

There was a game of touch football in progress. As she got closer to the game she noticed the players were a bunch of tall, muscled guys showing off for the beach bunny cheerleaders screaming from beach chairs
.
What a shame that people had to resort to damn near stripping and flailing around in public to attract each other’s attention.

Then another thought hit her—literally. A gorgeous man headed toward her at a million miles per hour, and all she could do was stop dead in her tracks and brace for impact.

* * *

For the third time that evening Morgan regained consciousness. The pain medication the doctor had given her made her euphoric and sleepy. When she’d come to, a nurse had informed her she had a bruised rib but nothing was broken. She lay in bed watching the white ceiling fan above her rotate, thinking of how quiet and sterilized the office seemed. She heard a sound from the corner of the room and turned to see the muscle head guy who had run into her on the beach, sitting in a chair opposite her, watching.

“Good evening.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, confused.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry about running into you like that. I didn’t see you.”

“I don’t take it personally. Nobody ever does. Besides, you were too busy flexing for the beach bunnies,” Morgan said, flashing a condescending smile. So what if he was six foot three and gorgeous? That didn’t give him the right to steamroll over people on the beach.

“Was not,” he scoffed.

“If you weren’t, then you had a bad case of tunnel vision. Ever think of trying out for a team? I could be your reference to confirm that you could tackle someone pretty good.”

“You know football?” he asked with an amused smirk.

“Steroid-pumped overgrown men on a field trying to throw a ball back and forth and scoring points.”

“Well, that’s the layman’s explanation for it. It’s more complicated than that, though. And minus the steroids.” He coughed. “I can explain it to you.”

Men and their posturing about sports. Morgan held up a hand. “No need. First you injure me; now you want to bore me to death. I have no need to fill my brain with random trivia about things I don’t care about.”

“Well, sports are a meaningful way of exercise, keeping in shape, strategizing, and it has a place for those of us who weren’t selected for the IQ Olympics.” He chuckled as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his leg over his knee. “What slogan will tomorrow’s shirt have on it? Your SAT scores? I’ve rather enjoyed reading your T-shirts the past three days.”

“I wouldn’t want to make the rest of the island feel inferior to me. Especially since they’re a bunch of muscle head jocks running around. I would fear for my safety.”

As he shifted slightly in the chair, she noticed how finely sculpted his body was and reaffirmed why he was out running around like an idiot. Every inch of exposed skin was muscled, well-defined, and lean. His shoulders were wide, but his waist narrowed, and he looked as if he ate five pounds of pasta for breakfast. But the face was in great contrast to the body. He had soft, striking features and piercing green eyes, giving him a hint of a boyish look, but she knew he hadn’t been a boy in a long time. And his smile was perfect and rehearsed, like he’d practiced it a lot. It seemed more controlled than natural. Did he feel the need to put on a pleasant mask all the time? Smiling on command wasn’t an easy thing. She’d ruined many a family photo because her two-second freeze frame would expire before the picture was taken. She wondered what would make him smile genuinely.

“Did you know that you moan in your sleep?” he asked in a low Southern drawl, surprising her.

“I do not.”

“I was wondering if your husband told you that.”

“I’m not married.”

“Hmm. Then maybe that’s why you moan in your sleep.” He smiled.

Morgan returned the smile. “I think I know what tomorrow’s T-shirt is going to say.”

“What’s that?” He leaned in closer to the bed.

“Up yours.”

* * *

The next day she was released and was happy to be returning to her room. She had only seven days left in paradise and Morgan was determined to make the most of her time. As she gingerly put on her clothes, the nurse said someone had arrived to take her back to her room. She stepped out looking for a hotel employee, but instead saw the muscle head hunk standing near a golf cart.

“Your chariot, my lady.” He motioned to the cart.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“It’s the least I can do since it’s my fault you got injured. I will be at your beck and call for the next few days.”

“So what is this? Looking to finish what you started on the beach?”

“Please let me make it up to you,” he said as he ran his hand through his short hair.

“No thanks.”

“I’m gonna feel like dirt for the rest of my vacation if I don’t at least help you get settled.”

Morgan saw that the rehearsed smile from last night was gone. This one didn’t seem to have a sales pitch lurking behind it. It was warm, genuine, and friendly. “Fine.”

“My name is Seth, by the way.” He extended his hand.

“Morgan.” She met his hand and, to her surprise, his hands were almost as soft as butter. And those soft hands were attached to a deeply tanned muscular arm with a Rolex watch wrapped around the wrist. He helped her into the cart. As she slid into the seat the bottle of pain meds she’d gotten from the clinic fell on the floor. Seth immediately leaned over to retrieve the bottle; she leaned out of his way but not in time to avoid his lips brushing against hers accidentally. He lingered a bit before backing away.

“Sorry,” he said with a lazy look in his eyes.

“So much for hand-eye coordination. You really shouldn’t have been playing football yesterday.” She glared at him, but her heart was almost beating out of her chest.

The ride back to the main tower was a mere ten minutes, but since Seth drove five miles slower than the posted speed limit, it was interminable. She wanted to be away from this guy in the worst way. During the course of twenty-four hours, he’d crashed into her, watched her sleep for God only knew how long, and kissed her. Morgan couldn’t deny he was good-looking. If you went for that all-American, rugged, handsome type with a hint of Southern accent oozing out of his mouth every now and again.

“My room is in the main tower,” she said as he approached the dividing road. He should have turned right to get back on the main path, but instead he made a left toward the ultra-exclusive bungalows. “Uh, you should have made a right.”

“I know where I’m going.” He stopped at the front gate to the private bungalows. He flashed a smile as the guard came out of the security shack. The guard leapt back in and opened the gate for him.

He stopped at bungalow twelve. “These are your new digs. On behalf of myself and the management for ruining your vacation.”

“So basically you and the hotel don’t want me to sue you.” She laughed.

“Something like that. But I do feel bad. I would like a chance to make that up to you.”

Seth smiled again, but this time it was a half grin and his eyes sparkled. This time the dimples in his cheeks deepened. If he was going to be sincere and sweet, Morgan would have no choice but to be civil to him. Hostility toward this man was helping her keep perspective on this wacky predicament.

The view from the pathway to the bungalows alone was more magnificent than looking out of the fourteenth story window in the main tower. The bungalow was on the beach, and it was beautiful. Felt like a home. The deck faced the water, which was a brilliant blue that beckoned closer and closer.

“Don’t stare at it too long. The waves become hypnotic after a while. I stood on the deck for three hours the first day I got here,” Seth murmured as he opened the doors to the deck.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it? Morgan sighed.

“There’s a bar and a kitchen. Two bedrooms and two baths. Big enough so we won’t get in each other’s way.”

Each other? “What?”

“This is my bungalow. There weren’t any more available. There’s plenty of room, and you’ll need someone to look after you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She put her hands on her hips. “I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, okay. Think fast.” Seth threw a pillow at her that hit her in the face, then fell on the floor.

She blinked. “Am I on Tropical Candid Camera or something? Do you lure women to your bungalow, then torture them?”

“You cannot take care of yourself. And this place is big enough for both of us.”

“Like hell it is. I don’t even know you! All I know is you hit like a Mack truck.” And why would the hotel agree to this? Who are you?”

“I told you my name is Seth.”

“Seth!” She snorted. “Sounds like you should be skipping down a dirt road in a pair of overalls with an ice-cream cone in your hand!”

“Really, Morgan? That’s funny coming from a girl with a man’s name.”

“I haven’t been a girl in quite some time, Seth.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“Well, you’re not acting like a woman right now.”

“If I wasn’t in such agonizing pain from being mauled by you, I’d deck you!”

Seth laughed and looked down at her small fist. “With what? Or were you going to borrow someone else’s hand?”

Morgan lunged at him and knew immediately it was a mistake. The meds she had taken were beginning to take effect but not enough so that she didn’t feel the pain of the sudden movement. He laughed at her as she hurled all the pillows on the couch at him, followed by the cushions, and finally as she turned to grab a coaster off the side table, he was in front of her and had her arms locked in his grasp. She looked up, glaring at him, only to see a green so sparkling it looked like someone had used a crayon to color his eyes, which were half hidden behind long lashes, too long and lush for a man to have. She’d never seen piercing green eyes up close and personal before. But his eyes reminded her of mint. The color of mouthwash? No, that was the smell of his breath as he closed in on her, his breath blowing ever so lightly on the bridge of her nose.

Morgan slowly raised her hand, touching his side, feeling every muscle along the way down to his waist and then down to the front of his pants. He was smiling at her, a devious smile like a cat that’d caught and ate a bird in the backyard. A satisfied smile, indeed. His smile vanished as she put pressure on his crotch.

“If you don’t let me go, cowboy, you’re gonna have a new career as an opera singer.”

Seth laughed. “You could have just asked, you know. I think you just want to feel me up. Not that I mind the hand job.”

Morgan refused to let him see her flush as she realized what she was doing. What started as a self-defense crotch grab had turned into a subtle caress. “Can you please let me go?”

“Are you hungry?”

She wanted to say no and storm off in some dramatic fashion, but she was hungry. He ordered room service while she changed her clothes in her new spacious room. By the time she came out—it took some time to maneuver because of her injury—lunch was waiting for her. Seth was sitting patiently at the table when she emerged from her room.

“Everything all right?”

“I got hit yesterday by some mammoth of a guy on the beach, and my rib is bruised. So it takes a while for me to do everyday things.”

“You are not going to let that go, are you?”

“I’m like a dog with a bone,” she said as she sat carefully in the chair.

He covered all the bases, ordering fresh lobster and shrimp and a gigantic plate of the fruits native to the island. They ate without saying too much, and afterward Seth told her he had to go out for a while. When he left she pulled out the book she’d been trying to read when the incident had occurred, and she enjoyed listening to the rumbling waves, drifting into a literary daydream. True, the book was fiction, but now she felt silly for overlooking paradise to delve into the book. She closed the book begrudgingly and made herself a drink.