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He liked the image—a lot.
She must have noticed his reaction because she said, “The only reason I wore fancy panties was because I wanted you to see them. And I’m nervous too becausemyfancy panties are probablynothinglike the fancy panties your supermodel girlfriends wear—”
“I have no girlfriends, supermodel or otherwise,” he said instantly. “And you could wear white cotton and you’d be sexier than any woman I’ve ever seen.” Her hair was up, and he brushed the back of his finger at the little curl at her nape. “This drives me mad.”
She shivered, arching her neck. “Um. Okay.”
He leaned in and kissed her there, inhaling her scent. “I must have some repressed Victorian gene in me. I’m surprised I haven’t gone stark raving mad at the sight of your ankles.”
She laughed softly, melting into him. “Oh, Jamie.”
He cradled her against him, turned on beyond belief, but also warm.
And happy. He lowered his head to her hair. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this sort of calm peace, like there was nowhere else in the world where he wanted to be—not even on the pitch.
The car rolled to a stop entirely too soon. He had a moment where he wanted to suggest going someplace private, but he resisted. They had plenty of time for that later. “I’m going to savor the anticipation of seeing your special knickers,” he whispered in her ear, then he opened the door and got out. He held his hand out to her, charmed by her crimson face.
As if it was the most natural thing in the world, she put her hand in his and slid out after him, taking a moment to balance on her shoes. Tucking her arm into the crook of his, he led her into the restaurant.
It was warm and candlelit inside, splashes of red and black creating some drama without being fussy. The hostess greeted them smoothly and kindly, taking his name and then escorting them through the restaurant to a table at the edge of the dining room, a small booth toward the back that made an effort at privacy. He followed Rachel into the alcove, holding her hand as their server greeted them. He looked at the wine list briefly, picking a bottle of red he thought she’d like and then returned his attention to her.
“So explain what you meant when you said you aren’t going back to soccer,” she said.
He shrugged. “I turned down the contract I was offered.”
Frowning, she asked, “It wasn’t a good offer?”
“It was an excellent offer.” He soothed her palm as he saw worry shadow her eyes. “Most players would have jumped at it.”
“You didn’t turn it down for me, did you?” She gaped at him. “Because you’ve probably got a few more years you can play, right? Unless you’re one of those people who look like they’re young but are really fifty.”
“If you’re asking how old I am, I’m thirty,” he said, amused.
Her expression edged into horror. “You’rethirty? Oh, jeez, I’m a cougar!”
Grinning, he lifted her hand and kissed it. “I like older women.”
“Oh jeez,” she said again as their waiter returned with their wine. “I may need another bottle,” she said to the man.
“We can do that,” he replied with quick politeness.
Jamie sat back, amused, watching Rachel as she watched the waiter uncork the bottle with easy efficiency. He told the man that Rachel would taste and approve the bottle. At the first sip, she hummed deep in her throat, a sexy sound that grabbed him by the balls. He had a vision of her pouring wine on him and licking it off. He wondered if she’d be up for it.
Which was not something he needed to think about here. At least the tablecloth covered his obvious hardness.
Gripping her glass, Rachel turned to him once the waiter left, her eyes wide. “So you’re a millionaire, and you’re thirty, and you’re leaving your career. Anything else I should know?”
“You forgot the part where I’m in love with you,” he replied mildly, picking up his wineglass.
“Right.” She gulped a little more wine. “That too.”
He put her hand on his leg, still holding it. After a topsy-turvy week, it felt like everything was finally falling into its right place.
He could see holding her hand for the rest of his life.
Maybe he was more of a romantic than he’d ever given himself credit for. He wondered what Coco would say to that.
Caressing her skin with his thumb, he said, “This is where you might admit you have a feeling or two for me.”
