MARIEFORCE
Copyright
© 2008 by Marie Force
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by Sourcebooks, Inc.
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Published
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P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410(630) 961-3900 FAX: (630) 961-2168 www.sourcebooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Force, Marie. Line of scrimmage / Marie Force.
p. cm.
1.
Marriage—Fiction. 2. Football stories. I. Title.
PS3606.O7L56
2008
813'.6—dc22
2008013934
Printed and bound in the United States of America OPM 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For
my parents,
George and Barbara Sullivan,
who always said I
could,
and for Dan, Emily, and Jake,
who stood by me while I
did
Chapter
1
IF THERE WAS ONE THING SUSANNAH SANDERSON—SOON to be Susannah Merrill—excelled at, it was setting an elegant table. Along with sparkling crystal and gold on silver flatware, there were dainty tapered candles perched in sterling candlesticks. A floral centerpiece in buttery yellows and golds complemented the main attraction: her grandmother’s Limoges china. Susannah often said that in a fire she’d grab the photo album from her debutante ball and as much of Grandma Sally’s china as she could carry.
Not every dinner party warranted the use of the china with the pale flowers and strip of fourteen-carat gold around the edge. But entertaining her fiancé and his parents certainly qualified as a china-worthy event.
Susannah glanced at Henry, and he smiled with approval as he took a bite of the succulent leg of lamb she had prepared with just a touch of mint.
“This is absolutely delicious, honey,” Henrietta Merrill said to her future daughter-in-law.
“You’re a lucky man, son,” Martin Merrill added. “There’s nothing quite like being married to a beautiful woman who can cook.”
Henry reached for Susannah’s hand, his love for her apparent in his worshiping gaze. “I know, Dad.”
When a strand of his salt and pepper hair fell across his forehead, Susannah had to resist the urge to brush it back from his handsome face. Henry wouldn’t approve of such an overt display of affection in front of his parents. The paisley bow tie he wore with his starched light blue shirt was a little crooked, but it only made him more adorable to her. He filled her with such an overwhelming sense of safety and tranquility—two things that had been sorely lacking in her life until Henry had returned to it. In just one month she would be his wife, and she’d have that safety and tranquility forever. Susannah couldn’t wait.
Almost as if he could read her thoughts, Henry squeezed her hand and then released it to reach for his wine glass.
“Have you found your mother-of-the-groom dress yet, Mrs. Merrill?” Susannah asked. Henry’s parents were spending the month before the wedding with their son in Denver.
“Just yesterday at Nordstrom. It’s a lovely pale green silk.”
Susannah forced herself not to cringe. The color would be horrible with the deep reds she had chosen for the late February wedding. “I’m glad you found something you’re happy with.”
“Now tell me,” Henrietta said with a twinkle in her eye. “What’s with this ‘Mrs. Merrill’ business?”
“Sorry,” Susannah said with a small laugh. “Old habits die hard. I’ve been calling you Mrs. Merrill since Henry and I dated in high school.”
“Well, now you’re going to be his wife, so I thought we’d agreed to dispense with the formalities, hadn’t we?”
“Of course . . . Mother.”
Henrietta’s portly face lit up with a warm smile.
After Susannah served her famous chocolate mousse, her future in-laws lingered over coffee—decaf so Martin would be able to sleep.
Susannah was startled to hear a chime echo through the house, indicating the front door had opened.
“Were you expecting someone, honey?” Henry asked.
“No.” She pushed back her chair but froze halfway up, flinching when she heard first one boot and then another drop onto the marble floor in the foyer. Only one person had ever dropped his boots in her foyer . . . It couldn’t be. Could it? Oh, God, please no . . . “Excuse me,” Susannah stammered to her guests as she rushed from the dining room, through the kitchen, and into the foyer, stopping short at the sight of her ex-husband, Ryan.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in an exaggerated whisper.
He was bent in half putting something into the shabby duffel bag that sat at his feet. When he slowly stood up to his full six-foot, four inches, his signature Stetson shaded half his face. One deep dimple appeared when he smiled at her. “Hello, darlin’,” he said in the lazy Texas drawl that used to stop her heart. But now, like everything else about him, it left her cold.
“What are you doing here?” she asked again.
“I’m home,” he said with a casual lift of his broad shoulders. He shrugged off a beat-up calfskin jacket and tossed it at the coat stand.
Susannah wasn’t surprised when the coat snagged a hook and draped itself over the antique brass stand.
“What do you mean home?” she hissed. “This isn’t your home.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” He made a big show of checking his watch. “For ten more days I own the place.”
“This house is mine,” she whispered. “You need to get your stuff and get out of here. Right now.” She reached for his coat and yelped when his hand clamped around her wrist.
Bringing his face to within inches of hers, he grinned and asked, “Why are we whispering?”
“Because I have guests.” She made a futile attempt to break free of the grip he had on her arm. “And you’re not welcome here.”
He sniffed at the air like a dog on the scent of a bone. “Do I smell lamb?” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “You know I love your lamb. I hope you saved some for me.”
Realizing the movement of his tongue on his lip had captured her attention, Susannah tore her eyes away. “I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing, Ryan Sanderson, but you need to pick up your stuff and get out,” Susannah said in an increasingly more urgent tone as she struggled once again to break free of him.
But instead of letting her go, he brought her left hand up to his face, his brown eyes zeroing in on her engagement ring. “Is that the best old Henry could do? Not exactly the rock you got from me, is it?”
“It doesn’t come with any of the headaches I got from you, either. Now, let me go and get out!”
“Let go of her!” Henry roared from behind Susannah. “This instant!”
Ryan snorted. “Or else what?”
Susannah wished the marble floor would open up and swallow her whole. “Henry, honey, go back to your parents. Everything’s fine. Ryan was just leaving.”
“The hell I was. I just got home. Is this any way for a wife to greet her husband?” Ryan asked, adding in that exaggerated drawl of his, “Got yourself another man while I was off fighting the wars, did ya, darlin’? You didn’t even send a Dear John.”
With desperation, Susannah glanced up at Ryan. The half of his face that wasn’t hidden by the big hat was set into a stubborn expression that told her he was determined to get his way. This was not good. “Henry, please. Go back in with your parents and give me a moment,” Susannah pleaded with her fiancé, who shot daggers at her ex-husband—or, well, her soon-to-be ex-husband. “Please.”
“Only if he takes his hands off you,” Henry said. His ears turned bright red as he clearly struggled to keep his rage in check.
Ryan released Susannah’s arm. “Happy now, lover boy?”
“I’ll be happy when you get the hell out of here and go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under.”
“Ohh,” Ryan said with a dramatic shiver. “I’m scared. You’re so intimidating in that bow tie.”
“That’s enough, Ryan,” Susannah snapped. With a weak smile for Henry, she nodded toward the dining room.
After one last long, cold stare for Ryan, Henry turned and left them.
“He’s a real tiger, that one,” Ryan said with a growl. “I’ll bet he tears it up in bed.”
“What do you want, Ryan?”
“In a word? You.”
“Well, you can’t have me. So this visit—while unex-pected—has been nice.” She spun on her heel and walked away from him. “You know the way out.”
“Not so fast. I’m not going anywhere. This is my house. I bought it and everything in it.”
Susannah whipped around to face him. “And you gave it all to me in the divorce!”
“Which, I might remind you, is not final for ten more days. Now, I’m a pretty reasonable guy, and believe it or not, I’m not looking to start trouble for you and lover boy. So let me make this easy for all of us, okay?”
Wary, Susannah nodded. “That would be best.”
“We’ve got ten more days as Mister and Missus, and we’re going to spend them together.”
Susannah started to protest, but Ryan held up his hand to stop her. “Every minute of every day for the next ten days.”
“You’re out of your mind! There’s no way I’m spending ten minutes with you, let alone ten days. No way.”
“You always had such a soft spot for the McMansion.” He sent his eyes on a journey through the spacious foyer, the sweeping staircase, and the formal living room. “It took us long enough to hammer out a settlement the first time. A renegotiation would tie things up for months, and in light of your engagement, I’m thinking that might be a little inconvenient for you . . . ”
“You wouldn’t!” Susannah fumed, but even as she said it she knew he would. Her stomach knotted with tension as she thought of the wedding and all her plans with Henry.
Ryan crossed the marble foyer to her. His scent, a woodsy mixture that always reminded Susannah of the mountains, was as familiar to her as anything in her life. “Watch me,” he said so quietly she might not have heard it if he hadn’t been standing so close to her.
Her blue eyes filled with tears. “Why are you doing this?”
He reached out to touch her shoulder-length blond hair. “We made a mistake.”
“How can you say that?” She slapped his hand away. “Our marriage was a nightmare. The divorce was the best thing we ever did.”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t a nightmare. Not always. Remember the first few years, Susie?”
“Don’t call me that. That’s not my name, and you know I hate it.”
“You didn’t used to hate it. Remember when we made love and I’d call you Susie? Do you ever think about how hot it was between us?”
“No! I never think of you. Ever.” She pushed him away, and he gasped. “What? What’s wrong with you?”
Struggling to catch his breath, Ryan said, “Nothing.” But his lips were white with pain.
Susannah reached up to remove his hat and recoiled when she revealed the side of his face the hat had hidden. “Oh my God! What happened to your face?”
“Sack gone bad on Sunday. Shoulder pads to the ribs, helmet to the face. Three busted ribs, but fortunately the mug is just badly bruised. Won’t hurt my endorsement deals.”
“Well, thank God for that,” she said sarcastically. His face was so black and blue Susannah had to resist the urge to reach up and caress his cheek. She couldn’t help but ask, “What about your helmet? How could this have happened?”
“The dude hit me so hard, it didn’t do me much good,” he said, shaking his head before his grin returned. “We won, though. They didn’t knock me out of the game until late in the fourth quarter when we’d already sewn it up.”
“Great,” she said without an ounce of enthusiasm. If she never heard another word about the Denver Mavericks, it would be too soon.
“The Super Bowl, baby,” he said with the cocky grin that was all Ryan. “That makes three in five years in case you were counting.”
“I wasn’t but congratulations. Now, please leave. I mean it, Ryan. This trip down memory lane was interesting, and I’m sorry you’re hurt, but there’s nothing left for us to talk about.”
“I beg to differ.” He hooked his arm around her neck and dragged her to him, flinching when she made contact with his injured ribs. Tipping his head, his lips found hers in a kiss that was hot and fast.
Susannah tried to protest, and he took advantage of her open mouth to send his tongue on a plunging, pillaging mission.
When he finally pulled back from her, Susannah could only stare at him.
“How could you forget that, darlin’?” he asked softly.
She shoved him and didn’t care about the flash of naked pain that crossed his handsome face. Whether it was the hit to his ego or his ribs that caused it, she didn’t know and didn’t care.
“Don’t touch me! Do you hear me? I’m engaged to another man. You had your chance with me, and you blew it. You come in here like a big conquering hero jock and think that crap is going to work on me. I’ve heard it all before, Ryan, so you can save it. I’ve asked you nicely to leave. If you don’t go, I’ll call the police.”
He snickered and combed his fingers through his dirty blond hair. “And what do you think they’re going to do to the guy who just brought home another Super Bowl trophy?” Reaching into the pocket of his faded, formfitting Levis, he withdrew his cell phone and held it out to her. “Give them a call. Be my guest.”
“Ugh!” she growled with frustration, knowing he was right. The cops wouldn’t do a damned thing but fawn over him the way everyone always did.
“If you’re going to be pig-headed about this, I guess that leaves me no choice.” He casually scrolled through the numbers on his cell phone. When he found what he was looking for, he pressed the send button.
“Who are you calling?”
“My divorce attorney. Putting the brakes on things.”
She snatched the phone out of his hand and turned it off.
He raised an eyebrow, and his battered face lit up with amusement. “Does that mean we have a deal?”
“And just what am I supposed to tell Henry?”
“I don’t give a flying fuck.”
“Lovely, Ryan. That’s just lovely. You’re as rude and crude as ever.”
“And you’re still hot for me,” he said with a smug smile. “Damn, that just pisses you off, doesn’t it?”
“I know your over-inflated ego will find this hard to believe, but I’m not even lukewarm for you.”
“Whatever you say, baby,” he said, wincing as he bent to pick up his worn Mavericks duffel bag. He took the Stetson from her, tossed it at the coat rack—where it landed with spot-on perfection—and started up the stairs.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Susannah asked with mounting desperation.
“Going to bed. Feel free to join me when you ditch lover boy. Oh, and if you’re feeling generous, you can bring me some ice for my ribs.”
“When pigs fly.”
“If that’s how long it takes, I can wait. The season’s over, and I’ve got nothing but time.”
Helplessly, she watched as he trudged up the stairs and disappeared down the hallway. She stood there for a long time trying to figure out what to do until Henry finally came to find her.
“Did you get rid of him?” he asked.
With a glance at the top of the stairs, she said, “Um, not exactly.”
Chapter
2
“WHAT?”
“Shhh,” Susannah said. In that moment, she realized arousal wasn’t the only emotion that made Henry’s ears turn red.
“This is outrageous! He cannot stay here.”
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “This foyer echoes through the house. He’ll hear every word you say, and so will your parents.”
“I don’t care. I want him out of here.”
Susannah nibbled on her thumbnail as anxiety coursed through her. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. Not tonight anyway.”
“So what am I supposed to do? Just leave you here with your ex-husband?”
“Technically, he’s not my ex-husband. Yet.”
Henry tugged at his bow tie, which seemed to be choking him all of a sudden.
“Let’s go back in with your parents.” Susannah slid her hand into the crook of his arm. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“Yes, we certainly will.”
Ryan eased himself onto the bed and winced when the mattress sagged under his weight. Pain ricocheted through his body. He unbuttoned his shirt and grimaced as he eased it over his shoulders. The simple act of swinging his legs onto the bed and resting against the pile of pillows caused him to break out in a cold sweat. He took shallow breaths in and out until the blast of pain had passed. By the time it did, though, his heart pounded and his stomach roiled with nausea.
Downplaying the injury in front of Susie had used up what was left of his energy after he checked himself out of the hospital that morning—against medical advice— to fly home from New Orleans on the private plane the team had sent for him. Aware he was running out of time to stop a divorce he didn’t want, Ryan had been desperate to get home to Susie. The rest of the team had arrived home two days earlier to find their adoring fans waiting for them at the airport. Ryan had been sorry to miss the party on the plane and the celebration at the airport, but he’d been through it before—twice, in fact— so he would survive missing it this time.
He had been banged up plenty of times in the twenty years since he started playing football as a sixth grader. During his junior year at Florida, he dislocated his elbow—fortunately not his throwing arm—in a game against Florida State. The Mavs had been playing the Bears when he tore a ligament in his left knee three years ago. That had hurt like a son of a bitch and knocked him out for half a season. But he had never broken a rib, let alone three of them, and on a scale of one to ten, the pain of broken ribs was a twelve. His face didn’t feel too great, either, and his head had been throbbing for days.
He wanted to cry when he realized his pain pills were in the duffel bag across the room. He hoped Susie would come up to fight with him, so he could cajole her into getting them for him.
Ryan hated being so helpless, but luckily he bounced back fast from injuries. He already felt a lot better than he had when it first happened. He’d had his eyes locked on his friend Bernie in the end zone and hadn’t seen the hulking defensive end coming. The ball had just left Ryan’s hand when boom! He saw stars as he lay on the field gasping for air and wracked with pain in his head and chest.
Eight hours passed in a pain-induced fog before Ryan thought to ask if Bernie had caught the ball. Of course he had, and the touchdown added six insurance points to the score. After also learning he had been named Super Bowl MVP—again—he found out one of the broken ribs had almost punctured his lung and the hit to his face had given him a concussion.
Ryan winced when he pictured his less-than-glorious exit from the NFL—on a stretcher of all things. No one knew yet that he had played in his last game. He made the decision weeks before the Super Bowl and was waiting to announce it until after the team had its moment of celebration. No way would Ryan allow his personal announcement to detract from the attention his teammates deserved after their big victory.
A sneeze startled him, and he was unable to stop it in time. The new blast of pain ripped through him and brought tears to his eyes. He had discovered in the last three days that sneezing was the most painful thing in the world when your ribs are broken.
Unfortunately, his allergies had picked this week to act up for the first time in months. Tomorrow he would call the team doctor to get a shot for the allergies— anything to stop the sneezing.
When he managed to catch his breath, Ryan lay still to listen to the voices at the bottom of the stairs.
“Everything was lovely, Susannah,” Henrietta said, offering her cheek to Susannah.
Susannah kissed the plump cheek. “Thank you . . . Mother.”
“Let’s talk this week about the final wedding plans,” Henrietta added.
Susannah nodded as she kissed Martin goodbye. They had managed to avoid telling Henry’s parents that her ex-husband was in the house.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” Henry said to his parents, handing the car keys to his father.
Susannah knew he wanted them gone so he could confront her about Ryan. She wanted to beg them to stay.
“Take your time, son,” Martin said with a wink.
The moment the door closed behind them, Henry pounced. “I’m going up to talk to him.”
Susannah grabbed his arm. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Let me handle this, Susannah. I need to handle it.”
“You can’t,” she insisted. “He’s not listening to reason. I know him. When he gets like this, all you can do is wait him out until he changes his mind. You have to trust me on this.”
“I do trust you. It’s him I don’t trust.”
They looked up when they heard Ryan at the top of the stairs.
Susannah gasped when she saw he was wearing only boxer shorts. The half of his face that wasn’t battered was pale and pinched with pain. Above and below the tape on his ribs were evil-looking bruises that stretched from his waist to his shoulder. As he came down the stairs, she noticed his usual cocky stride was gone. That he was so obviously in agony made her heart hurt for him, despite her aggravation over his sudden reappearance after more than a year of separation. She watched as Henry’s eyes skirted over Ryan’s broad shoulders, his sculpted chest and abs, his narrow hips.
Henry swallowed. Hard.
Even banged up, Ryan Sanderson was the sexiest man Susannah had ever seen—and he knew it. From the look on Henry’s face, he knew it, too. He was daunted by Ryan’s imposing physique, which was exactly what Ryan had hoped to achieve by coming down there in his underwear.
“Is there a problem, darlin’?” Ryan asked as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
“You need to leave,” Henry stammered. “It’s completely inappropriate for you to just show up here and to walk around like . . . like that.”
With an innocent look on his face, Ryan scratched his belly just above the waistband of his red plaid boxers. “Like what?”
“Half naked.”
Ryan snorted. “I don’t know what you consider to be naked, but I’d say I’m about three-quarters naked. Susie can tell you I prefer being au natural. I only kept the shorts on because we have company. Despite your low opinion of me, I’m not a total Neanderthal.”
“That’s enough, Ryan,” Susannah snapped.
“I just came down for a glass of water, so I can take my pain pills,” Ryan said. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
“You are not staying here with my fiancée,” Henry said in a burst of courageous indignation.
“She may be your fiancée, but she’s still my wife. So I hate to point out the obvious, padna, but I think I trumped your ace.”
Henry fumed, and his ears turned bright red.
“Here’s how this is going to go,” Ryan said. “I want a few days alone with my wife with no annoying distractions—”
“That’s not going to happen,” Henry retorted.
“Yes, it is, or there’ll be no divorce and thus no wedding. You following me here?”
“You can’t do this!” Henry cried.
“I believe I already have.” Ryan left them in the foyer and went into the kitchen.
When they were alone, Henry reached for Susannah’s hand. “Come with me,” he pleaded. “Come home with me.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I have to pacify him, so he won’t make trouble with the divorce. It’s the only hope we have.”
“What am I supposed to do while you’re playing house with your ex-husband?”
“Wait and be patient.”
“I’ve been doing that for more than eleven years. How much patience do you expect me to have?”
“It’s ten more days. After all this time, surely you can give me ten more days.” She cradled his face with her hands. “Can’t you?”
His expression stony, Henry said, “You’re asking an awful lot of me, Susannah. I know what that egomaniacal bastard put you through. How do you expect me to just walk out that door and leave you here with him?”
Ryan came back into the foyer carrying a glass of water.
“Still here, Henry?” he asked, lifting that cocky eyebrow. Henry fixed his eyes on Susannah. “I was just leaving.” “I’ll be waiting for you upstairs, darlin’,” Ryan said as
he started up the stairs. “Sanderson!” Henry called. “If you lay one finger on
her, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me?” “You’d have to catch me first,” Ryan said with a snicker. Susannah stopped Henry from replying. “Let it go,”
she said softly. “He’s all talk.” “I mean it, Susannah,” Henry said, holding her tight
against him. “If he touches you, I’ll kill him.” “He won’t get the chance.” “See that he doesn’t.” Susannah took a step back from him. “I don’t care for