Brody mumbled something. "Ignore my sister's third degree, Shannon. She's an overachieving lawyer who likes to hara.s.s people."

Letting out a breath of relief that Bridgett was his sister, Shay began to slice up the vegetables for stir-fry.

Bridgett laughed. "I thought maybe we could grab some dinner, but I can see you've already got plans."

"I bought enough for two," Shay said before realizing her mistake.

Brody narrowed his eyes at her.

"Interesting," Bridgett repeated. "You're not eating with him?"

"Um, no, not tonight." She looked anxiously at Brody for rescue, but he was no help. "I have a cla.s.s to teach at the pool," she lied.

Bridgett studied them both before deliberately placing her mug on the bar. "All right out with it. Tell me he's at least paying you to cook for him, Shay?"

"Uhh . . ." Shay stammered.

"None of your business," Brody growled at his sister.

"And please, don't tell me the commodity he's offering is s.e.x, because, ick, he's my little brother and the thought of that just disgusts me." She shuddered. "What's more, you're not his usual type. I suspect there's actually more than a bubble between your ears. So what's he got on you?"

"Dammit, Bridgett, leave her alone! Keep your nose out of my business."

Bridgett ignored her brother, peppering Shay instead. "My brother is Tom Sawyer incarnate. He can persuade people to do whatever he wants just by batting his eyelashes. But I know you're not his girlfriend. So what are you doing in his kitchen cooking his meals? And what the heck do you need a personal chef for anyway, Brody? You never cared how nutritious your food was before. What gives?"

"She is too my girlfriend!"

Shay's heart was beating out of her chest at the vehemence of Brody's declaration. Heck, she almost believed him. But she knew he wanted to distract his sister from her other line of questioning: the one about his diet.

"No way, Brody. You've been in this kitchen five minutes and you've both been dancing around the room as if you're afraid of being in the same s.p.a.ce together. Furthermore, you call her Shannon when"-she did a pa.s.sable imitation of Shay-"everyone calls her Shay. Isn't that right, Shay?"

"Sorry, Nancy Grace, you're not right this time." Charging across the room at Shay, he pinned her against the fridge. "Play along," he said before his mouth took hers in a savage kiss.

Shay had no time to react. Brody was kissing her so deeply it was almost if he wanted to lay claim to every part of her. Trapped between his hard hot body and the cool stainless steel of the refrigerator, her own body had no trouble playing along. Trailing her hands over his pecs, she swiped her tongue against his. He groaned deep in his throat as his arousal pressed against her lower belly. Shay's own sensitive parts throbbed and she brought her hips closer to his. Her fingers were on his scalp now, a piece of her own wild hair catching in the stubble of his five o'clock shadow as their kiss became more urgent.

"Okay! That's enough. You're grossing me out here." Bridgett's voice permeated their pa.s.sionate fog. "Please don't make me spray you two down with the kitchen faucet hose."

Brody broke the kiss, but he didn't move away, which Shay was thankful for. She wasn't sure she could stand if he released her. Touching his forehead to hers, they both took a moment to regulate their breathing. She couldn't read his eyes-they were contemplating the floor at the moment-but she had a nice view of his full lips wearing a satisfied smile. His fingertips had found their way beneath her sweatshirt and they were drawing lazy circles on her skin just above her hips. Shay knew it was all an act but she couldn't help dreaming of what might happen if his sister wasn't standing five feet away.

"You've only proved that the two of you are hot for each other like a pair of rabbits, but I'm not sticking around for any more evidence."

Bridgett had apparently found her shoes because she was tapping across the floor toward the door.

"But Brody, my purpose for getting together tonight was to warn you about the litany of single women awaiting you at Tricia's wedding."

Brody groaned, moving his head off Shay's to bang it on the refrigerator door. The move gave Shay's lips access to his neck and she had to bite the inside of her check to keep from kissing him there. Or possibly licking him.

"There's a list of at least eight eligible bachelorettes although I've warned them about keeping Megan Riley on it because she's only seventeen and that would leave you vulnerable for all things statutory in nature. Consider yourself warned." The garage door opened. "It was nice to meet you, Shay. Please don't be a fool and lose your heart over this idiot."

Eleven.

Brody heard his sister slam out of the kitchen, but he couldn't seem to take his hands off Shannon. Her breath was warm against his neck and he wanted nothing more than to seal his mouth over hers and finish what they'd both started. He didn't even care if they made it to the bedroom; the kitchen floor would work just fine.

"She's gone now." Her raspy voice caressed his ear. She squirmed against him and Brody couldn't keep the hiss from escaping as his hard-on got unbelievably harder.

He turned his head so his lips rested just beneath the sh.e.l.l of her ear, her pulse beating steadily against his mouth. "Hold still before you frickin' kill me," he groaned, breathing in the wildflower scent of her skin.

"We're not having s.e.x, Brody." Too bad she didn't sound as sure of herself as she had the first time she'd said that to him.

His hand slid up over the bare skin beneath her sweatshirt. She shivered as his thumb grazed her pebbled nipple. "Parts of you are saying otherwise."

She let out a l.u.s.ty sigh that was nearly his undoing. "Those parts don't get a vote."

Apparently her brain was doing a better job ignoring the rest of her body than his was.

Her voice trembled. "I'm not sleeping with a man who's blackmailing me. One who doesn't trust me."

And there was the crux of their problem. No matter how great the s.e.xual attraction was, neither trusted the other. Brody had already slept with too many women happy to sell out intimate details to the highest bidder. Shannon knew his most damaging secret. Taking her to bed would just give her more reason to share his secrets when he broke up with her.

"You're right. I don't trust you." He felt dejected as he said it.

Again, he banged his head against the refrigerator. Slowly slipping his hands out from under her clothing, he patted her sweatshirt down. Shannon ceased kneading his lower back, one-by-one slapping her palms against the stainless steel door. Her breathing was still a bit shallow as he stepped away, avoiding all eye contact. Staggering to the sink, Brody sloshed his face with cold water. Definitely not the part of him that needed it, but he'd have to make do under the circ.u.mstances.

When he turned back toward Shannon, she was chopping vegetables again, her hand on the knife trembling slightly. Brody felt like an a.s.s for revving her up like that, but he'd needed to get Bridgett off his case. His sister was way too intelligent. Once she got hold of something, she was like a terrier, not letting go until she discovered what's inside. A lot like the woman standing in front of him.

Shannon chewed on her bottom lip. "If we caught the snitch, we wouldn't have trust issues anymore."

Yep, definitely like Bridgett.

Brody grimaced. "Not this again," he said, leaning a hip against the countertop.

She looked over her shoulder at him, trepidation in her whiskey eyes. "I'm serious, Brody. This would be the perfect weekend to try it. I heard Mr. Carter talking with the staff from the league office. All the teams are restricting access to their locker rooms until the blog site is identified. With an away game, that means we could narrow down the suspect pool significantly."

"If the snitch takes the bait."

Apparently, that was all the go-ahead she needed. She grabbed a manila envelope out of her book bag. "There's a store right near campus. All we have to do is pick something out of this catalog . . ."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Brody roared as she waved a color catalog of s.e.x toys in his face like a red flag in front of a charging bull. "I was this close"-he held up his thumb and forefinger scant millimeters apart-"to jumping your bones a minute ago and now you shove this thing at me. Just what are those two people doing on the cover, anyway?" Forget the cold shower; now he needed a long swim in an icy pond.

Shannon tried to cram the catalog back into the envelope, but Brody grabbed it out of her hands. "This stuff is disgusting," he said thumbing through the slick pages featuring c.o.c.k rings, vibrators, and various restraints. His jockey shorts were getting tighter with each page he eyed. He looked up into her mulish face. "Tell me you didn't go into a store that sells this . . . s.m.u.t?" he demanded.

"And if I did?"

Her answer angered him and excited him at the same time. "I told you already, I'm not displaying a s.e.x toy in my locker for some snitch and all my teammates to see!"

"For pity's sake, Brody. If you're that chicken, just put the catalog in your locker. You obviously find it arousing." She glanced down at his shorts. "Maybe the snitch will, too."

Brody felt the muscles in the back of his neck squeezing off the oxygen to his brain. "No." He tried to cram the catalog back into the envelope, but there were other papers inside of it. Shannon's face went white as he pulled them out. "What the h.e.l.l is this?"

A tussle ensued as Shannon tried to retrieve the doc.u.ment. She was all Texas wildcat, but Brody was stronger and she ended up pinned against the refrigerator again. Only this time, he was the only one turned on. The pa.s.sion reflected in her eyes was definitely anger, and if he was reading her right, a little bit of embarra.s.sment. She tried to wiggle free, but he held her fast as he scanned the pages in his hand.

"Holy s.h.i.t," he whispered. All the fight left her body and she went limp against him. "This says you're going to work at a prison." Brody couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. "I don't understand."

"What's to understand," she said crisply. "Prisoners have got to eat, too."

He shifted his weight, pushing her into the stainless steel door while summoning his caveman. "You can't work in prison."

"Ooooof!" Shannon yelled, jabbing her nails into his chest to shove him off her. Tears were leaking from her eyes. "Says the man who has everything. Who's never had to work for a thing in his life!" She jerked the papers from his fingers and waved them in his face. "This, this job, will ensure my mama gets to keep her livelihood. A situation you or your family has never faced. And you never will face with your gobs of money!" She stabbed a finger into his shoulder. "The rest of the world wasn't born with your gifts"-she practically spat the word out at him-"of good looks, affluence, and athletic ability. The rest of us have to carve out whatever we want." She shoved the papers back into her book bag. "Some of us are so desperate for money that we'll do things we know we shouldn't. Yes, I was in that locker room that night, but I couldn't go through with it. I don't care if you believe me anymore, Brody." She swiped a tear off her cheek. "The terms of your blackmail only require me to make sure you eat a nutritiously balanced diet. But you have no say-so in what I do with the rest of my life!"

She turned back to the cutting board and began to furiously chop up the remaining vegetables. Brody dragged his hands through his hair. He didn't dare move a muscle near her, fearful of what she'd do with the knife.

Shannon was right, he didn't understand what drove her. The perfect bubble he lived his life in insulated him from the type of drama she persevered through every day. Not for the first time, Brody wondered what his life would have been like if he'd grown up more like her. What type of man would he have become outside of football?

She moved to slicing the chicken, her breath coming in deep gulps. "You know what the sad part is, Brody?" she mumbled. "I would have considered the phone s.e.x thing if you'd agreed to help me."

He had to smile at her tenacity. And her willingness to fool around. This woman never gave up on the things she believed in. Her family. Her neighbors. Hard work. And the truth. Brody desperately wanted her to believe in him, too. And, in a moment of pure clarity, he knew what he had to do.

Still wary of the knife, he carefully stepped behind her, bracketing his hands on the counter on either side of her and rested his head on her shoulder. "We're not having phone s.e.x."

Her whole body slumped in dejection.

Brody smiled against the delicate skin on her neck. "You're not that woman who trades s.e.xual favors in exchange for something else, Shannon. And phone s.e.x, if it's done well, is definitely a s.e.xual favor."

Shannon's breath became more fractured.

"I'll tell you what I am going to do," he murmured against her ear. "I'll agree to plant something in the locker room this weekend to catch the snitch."

She let out a squeal and Brody grabbed the knife before she could accidently impale him.

"On one condition," he continued and her shoulders slumped again. Her reaction nearly made him laugh as he nuzzled her jaw. "If I have to embarra.s.s myself in front of my teammates, you have to be my date to my sister's wedding."

She spun around in his arms, the close contact of her body making him groan again.

"You want me to go to your sister's wedding with you? As your date?"

"Well, more like as my human shield."

"I'm guessing this isn't being held at the VFW?"

"No, it's at some prissy four-star inn in Vermont. Does it matter?"

She shoved him again and Brody took a step back. Embarra.s.sment flooded her whiskey eyes. "I can't do it, Brody. I don't have the clothes. Judging by your sister's outfit, I could never afford the clothes your family would expect of your date."

"Why are you women always so concerned with what you have to wear?"

"Says the man whose sister lays out his clothes for him each day so he looks good."

He sighed in resignation as he rubbed the back of his neck. "No problem. I happen to have a good friend who loves playing fairy G.o.dmother to Cinderella."

Shannon opened her mouth to protest, but Brody laid a finger across her lips.

"And I'm paying. For everything. Buy whatever you need and keep them as payment for being my date."

"That sounds more like Pretty Woman than Cinderella," she said around his finger.

Brody couldn't respond, he was so aroused by her lips brushing against his fingertip.

She stepped back farther, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you promise you'll put the catalog in your locker?"

"Oh, I didn't say my locker, Texas." He rocked back on his heels as her eyes narrowed to slits. "I'll be putting it in another player's locker."

"Whose?" she demanded.

"If I tell you, we won't be eliminating you as a suspect." He pulled her in closer. "And I really want to eliminate you as the snitch."

Her eyes shone with relief and a little bit of hunger. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to prove her innocence. It wouldn't solve the bigger problem of her knowing about his illness, but he'd deal with one thing at a time.

"I need to go take a shower. A long cold one."

She gnawed on her lower lip and nodded.

"Leave me the catalog, Shannon. And take some of that home to eat." He brushed a damp spot from beneath her eye.

"I'm sorry I'm such a conundrum, Brody," she whispered.

Brody kissed the tip of her nose. "I already told you, Shannon, I like conundrums."

The scene that greeted Brody when he arrived the following evening at Will Connelly's loft apartment was one of such pure domestic bliss he had to stifle his gag reflex. Two of the league's most ruthless players had been reduced to lovesick puppies. William the Conqueror Connelly was frolicking on the floor with his six-month-old son, belly-farting the baby, who shrieked with laughter in response. The Devil of the NFL, Shane Devlin, was cramped on the end of the sofa, ma.s.saging his pregnant wife's feet.

"Wow, if this is a hot night in Married Land, count me out."

Connelly lifted his son off the floor and tossed him in the air. "Julianne, didn't I tell you to take away Brody's key?"

"I did take his key away," Connelly's wife said as she carried a tray of desserts to a table beside the sofa.

"Then how'd he get in?"

Julianne's amber eyes sparkled as she stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss Brody on the cheek. "I let him in," she said with a smile. "Now, stop throwing Owen like that before he throws up on you." She steered Brody toward a chair. "Help yourself to a cannoli, Brody. I just made them."