“Oh, I get it. You’re heading for second base.”
“Hardly.” Emily reached over and tried to push off on the other arm of the couch. One beefy arm wrapped around her. “I’m not trying to do anything. Oh, whatever.”
“You know, if you want a kiss, all you have to do is ask.”
She couldn’t imagine how he managed to look so innocent while smirking.
“I haven’t had a woman throw herself in my lap for a while now. This could be interesting,” he said.
Emily’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “I did not throw myself in your lap.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Which one of us is—”
“Let go of me.” She was still trying to grab the remote, without success.
“You’ll fall,” he warned.
“What’s your point?”
“Here.” He stuck the remote down the side of the couch cushion so Emily couldn’t grab it. He grasped her upper arms, righted her with no effort at all, and looked into her eyes. “All better. Shouldn’t you be resting, anyway?”
Emily tried to take a breath. Their bodies were frozen. He held her, and she gazed into his face. His dimple appeared, vanished, appeared again. She licked her lips with the microscopic amount of moisture left in her mouth. He was fighting a smile, but even more, he dipped his head toward her. He was going to kiss her.
“Yes,” she said.
Her voice sounded weak, but it was all she could do to push it out of lungs that had no air at all. He continued to watch her, and he gradually moved closer. Their mouths were inches apart. Emily couldn’t stop looking at his lips. After a few moments that seemed like an eternity, he released her and dug the remote from the couch cushion. She felt a stab of disappointment. He had changed his mind.
“Turns out you have the NFL Network, so I think I can handle another twenty-four hours here,” he announced as he stopped on a channel she’d never seen before.
“You might not be here another twenty-four minutes. Don’t you have a TV at home?” She wrapped her arms around her midsection. She wished she could come up with something more witty and cutting to say. She was so sure he would kiss her, and then he hadn’t.
An Excerpt from
RUSHING AMY
Love and Football, Book Two
Available Now from Avon Impulse!
For Amy Hamilton, only three F’s matter: Family, Football, and Flowers. It might be nice to find someone to share Forever with too, but right now she’s working double overtime while she gets her flower shop off the ground. The last thing she needs or wants is a distraction . . . or help, for that matter. Especially in the form of gorgeous and aggravatingly arrogant ex-NFL star Matt Stephens.
Matt lives by a playbook—his playbook. He never thought his toughest opponent would come in the form of a stunning florist with a stubborn streak to match his own. Since meeting her in the bar after her sister’s wedding, he’s known there’s something between them. When she refuses, again and again, to go out with him, Matt will do anything to win her heart . . . But will Amy, who has everything to lose, let the clock run out on the one-yard line?
T HE WEDDING WAS over, and Amy Hamilton stood among the wreckage.
Every flat surface in the Woodmark Hotel’s grand ballroom was strewn with dirty plates, empty glasses, crumpled napkins, spent champagne bottles—the outward indication that a large group of people had one hell of a party. A few hours ago, Amy’s older sister, Emily, had married Brandon McKenna, the man of her dreams.
Three hundred guests toasted the bride and groom repeatedly. Happy tears flowed as freely as the champagne. The dinner was delicious, the cake, even better. The newlyweds and their guests danced to a live band till after midnight. The hotel ballroom was transformed into a candlelit fairyland for her sister’s flawless evening, but now all that was left was the mess. The perfectly arranged profusion of flowers was drooping. So was she.
Amy arranged flowers for weddings almost every
“Hardly.” Emily reached over and tried to push off on the other arm of the couch. One beefy arm wrapped around her. “I’m not trying to do anything. Oh, whatever.”
“You know, if you want a kiss, all you have to do is ask.”
She couldn’t imagine how he managed to look so innocent while smirking.
“I haven’t had a woman throw herself in my lap for a while now. This could be interesting,” he said.
Emily’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “I did not throw myself in your lap.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Which one of us is—”
“Let go of me.” She was still trying to grab the remote, without success.
“You’ll fall,” he warned.
“What’s your point?”
“Here.” He stuck the remote down the side of the couch cushion so Emily couldn’t grab it. He grasped her upper arms, righted her with no effort at all, and looked into her eyes. “All better. Shouldn’t you be resting, anyway?”
Emily tried to take a breath. Their bodies were frozen. He held her, and she gazed into his face. His dimple appeared, vanished, appeared again. She licked her lips with the microscopic amount of moisture left in her mouth. He was fighting a smile, but even more, he dipped his head toward her. He was going to kiss her.
“Yes,” she said.
Her voice sounded weak, but it was all she could do to push it out of lungs that had no air at all. He continued to watch her, and he gradually moved closer. Their mouths were inches apart. Emily couldn’t stop looking at his lips. After a few moments that seemed like an eternity, he released her and dug the remote from the couch cushion. She felt a stab of disappointment. He had changed his mind.
“Turns out you have the NFL Network, so I think I can handle another twenty-four hours here,” he announced as he stopped on a channel she’d never seen before.
“You might not be here another twenty-four minutes. Don’t you have a TV at home?” She wrapped her arms around her midsection. She wished she could come up with something more witty and cutting to say. She was so sure he would kiss her, and then he hadn’t.
An Excerpt from
RUSHING AMY
Love and Football, Book Two
Available Now from Avon Impulse!
For Amy Hamilton, only three F’s matter: Family, Football, and Flowers. It might be nice to find someone to share Forever with too, but right now she’s working double overtime while she gets her flower shop off the ground. The last thing she needs or wants is a distraction . . . or help, for that matter. Especially in the form of gorgeous and aggravatingly arrogant ex-NFL star Matt Stephens.
Matt lives by a playbook—his playbook. He never thought his toughest opponent would come in the form of a stunning florist with a stubborn streak to match his own. Since meeting her in the bar after her sister’s wedding, he’s known there’s something between them. When she refuses, again and again, to go out with him, Matt will do anything to win her heart . . . But will Amy, who has everything to lose, let the clock run out on the one-yard line?
T HE WEDDING WAS over, and Amy Hamilton stood among the wreckage.
Every flat surface in the Woodmark Hotel’s grand ballroom was strewn with dirty plates, empty glasses, crumpled napkins, spent champagne bottles—the outward indication that a large group of people had one hell of a party. A few hours ago, Amy’s older sister, Emily, had married Brandon McKenna, the man of her dreams.
Three hundred guests toasted the bride and groom repeatedly. Happy tears flowed as freely as the champagne. The dinner was delicious, the cake, even better. The newlyweds and their guests danced to a live band till after midnight. The hotel ballroom was transformed into a candlelit fairyland for her sister’s flawless evening, but now all that was left was the mess. The perfectly arranged profusion of flowers was drooping. So was she.
Amy arranged flowers for weddings almost every
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