Rules of Contact - Page 12/92

She nearly choked on her wine. “Of course I do.”

“All that body-to-body action, a sexy mouth kissing on you, some tongue action taking a slow, delicious ride on the Hot Body Train down to Lady Town.”

She shot a glare at her best friend. “Laura. Stop.”

Laura seemed unfazed. “What? You know you want some. Just because some asshole broke your heart doesn’t mean your vagina has gone out of business. The two organs don’t have to be connected to each other, ya know. You can have sweaty hot sex without falling in love.”

Laura was right. It had been a very long time. Even before she and Frank had divorced, the sex had stopped. Which didn’t mean she was ready to . . . board that train again just yet.

Still . . . just the thought of having some wild uncontrollable sex with someone sounded really good about now.

Then again, that might be the wine talking.

“I can see your mind working over there,” Laura said. “You’re thinking about sex.”

She hid her thoughts by leaning over to jot down some notes about the recipe. “No. I’m thinking about food.”

“No one knows you better than I do. And you never blush about boeuf bourguignon. You’re not only thinking about sex, you’re thinking about hot, dirty, up-against-the-wall sex.”

Amelia shot a direct look at Laura. “I’ve never even had hot, dirty, up-against-the-wall sex.”

Laura tilted her glass of tea toward her. “Then you’ve been doing it wrong. We need to find the hottest guy in the world for you. I hope he’s at the party Tuesday night.”

Amelia thought about denying Laura’s statement, but truthfully, so did she.

SEVEN

After a grueling loss to Cleveland on Sunday, Flynn and his team regrouped and tried to figure out where they’d gone wrong.

Special teams had made some errors, and the opposing team’s eighty-yard runback for a touchdown hadn’t helped. Defense had seemed off-key the entire game. The Sabers offense had put up two touchdowns and a field goal, so they should have been able to defend Cleveland and hold them.

They hadn’t been, which had made them even more determined to go into their home game this weekend with a mind-set to win.

They’d watched game films today, and Flynn had paid particular attention to the defensive line. It wasn’t as if Cleveland’s offensive line was better. But Cleveland’s offense had gotten off the mark faster, and had protected the quarterback, which meant Flynn hadn’t been able to touch him. Nor had the other lineman. Cleveland had looked solid and the Sabers defense had been scattered.

Time to shake off that loss and do what they knew they could.

It was a grueling workout, but the day was cool and they dug deep exorcising the demons from the previous game. Whatever had gone wrong last week was over. He and his line were solid now, and after the rest of the week’s practices he knew they’d be ready for Green Bay come Sunday.

“See you tonight?” Mick asked as he walked by him in the locker room.

“For sure. I’ll be there.” Though he wasn’t all that jazzed about the idea of being fixed up. He much preferred to choose his own woman.

Then again, that hadn’t been working out all that well for him lately. He was still pissed about what had happened with Jameson. And if he was honest, he was pissed about the long stream of women who had been using him for camera time.

He should just give up on dating and concentrate on football. He didn’t like failure. Losing wasn’t acceptable to him, whether it was a game or a relationship.

At least he’d won more games than he’d lost. The whole relationship thing had been one giant loss lately, and that just fucking sucked. Something needed to change in the romance department.

Maybe having someone fix him up would work out better than him finding his own dates, so he might as well give this a try.

After he got home he checked his phone messages. One from his mother, so he clicked on her number. She answered right away.

“Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

“Not much here. Wedding planning.”

Two of his brothers—Grant and Tucker—were getting married next year. Which made his mom very happy.

“And how’s that going?”

“It’s going well, but of course there’s a lot to do as you can imagine.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

“And how are you? How’s the new restaurant coming along?”

“It’s good. I’m glad you and Dad were able to make it out for opening night.”

“We had a wonderful time. It’s a lovely restaurant, Flynn. We’re so proud of you.”

He smiled. His parents had always been supportive of his career and everything he’d accomplished. Raising five kids hadn’t been easy, and a lot of that burden had fallen on his mother when they were all younger, because at the time his father had still been playing football. He had a lot of admiration for his mom. She’d been a full-time lawyer until she’d retired, and had managed to wrangle four unruly boys and one daughter.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Anything new on the dating front?”

He expected the question. “Not at the moment. I’m . . . freelancing.”

“Which means you haven’t met anyone special yet. Don’t worry. It’ll happen for you.”

“I’m in no hurry.”

“Well, when it does, you let me know, okay?”