The Chihuahua Affair: Best in Show Page 3

  “Yes. Before the accident I was an interior decorator.” She chuckled. “I have a really practical degree in Art.”

  “You’ll have to look at my condo to see if you have any ideas. At the moment it’s pretty stark.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t have much time anymore, but maybe one day I might have a look.” The thought of adding another project to her load made her head swim.

  They finished their sodas and Rebecca walked Matt to the door. He paused for a moment, moistening his bottom lip as he smiled. He held her gaze and butterflies tickled her stomach again. But in a flash, his eyes darted away. “Thanks for the pop. I’ll see you Thursday.”

  “Sure thing.” She watched him walk to his Lexus LX. Nice car. Nice guy. He’s gay, right? A gay quarterback—could happen. Not. Watch yourself, Rebecca Lee.

  She bit her lip. Yeah, it was nice of him to stay and help, but that’s where it had to stop. Life was too hectic. Maybe she’d be ready in a couple years, but now? Forget it.

  Maybe she could use a new friend and hopefully Patches would keep Matt coming back to class. Besides, it was a pleasant change to have a conversation with an adult that didn’t center on dogs. Not that she didn’t adore dogs, but Rebecca focused so much on work and the kids, she had little time for anything else. In fact, she picked up a hitch to her stride when she walked back into the house—until she saw Amanda glaring at her from the kitchen.

  “What was he doing hanging around after class?”

  “He offered to help with the chores, just like you used to, sweetie.”

  Amanda held out a form. “Could you sign my slip for the senior trip?”

  “Still going to the Shore? When?”

  “February, it’s a ways off yet.”

  “Will Sean be going?” Rebecca brushed her hand across the marble countertop, trying to look nonchalant. Sean, Amanda’s boyfriend, feasted his eyes on her daughter like a wolf, which made Rebecca want to keep a shotgun by the front door.

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Mom, everybody’s going.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to chaperone?”

  “What? Don’t you trust me?”

  Rebecca took the paper, giving it a quick once-over. “It’s not a question of trust.”

  Amanda crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Then what is it?”

  “I just enjoy being with you.” She let out a sigh. “You’ll be off to college soon, and I won’t have an opportunity to do this again.”

  She signed the paper and Amanda snatched it up. “Nice try, Momma.”

  The back of Rebecca’s neck pricked. Deep down she regretted her little girl would soon head out on her own, but Amanda had been difficult lately—a typical teenager. But still, her antics put a strain on their relationship. Amanda could be the sweetest person in the world or the nastiest and Rebecca often wondered which Amanda she would face each day.

  ***

  As Matt drove off, Patches yipped from the backseat.

  “You okay back there, little fella?” He tilted the rearview mirror, but all he could see was the kennel he’d just bought under Rebecca’s instruction. “Remember to put your dog in a crate when you’re driving. It’s safer for him and you.”

  Rebecca. What a woman.

  He might be reeling from the worst breakup of his life, but he wasn’t dead. Any guy couldn’t help his jaw-dropping response to such a beautiful woman. And Rebecca had it all. Curves like a salsa dancer, blue eyes, cute smile and red hair. God, he loved redheads, and that woman’s wild mass of red curls made his damned heart skip a beat the first time he saw her. Worse? It happened again tonight.

  She stood about five-foot-six and maybe weighed one-twenty. All legs. Since she had a degree and teenaged kids, she had to be close to his age—forty.

  Stopping at a red light, he readjusted the rearview mirror.

  She’s not my type.

  Rebecca might be intriguing. Yeah, smart, independent, with a past. But she was a mom. And the biggest problem was the daughter. Amanda. Boy, that kid had daggers for him.

  Big time Rebecca repellent for sure.

  Matt usually fell for the blondes, definitely his weakness, maybe even more than redheads. After a couple of years of dealing with their shallow lives, it would end. Every time, he’d swear never to be caught again, until the next time a beautiful blonde with a fresh boob job walked into his life. He had to get out of Malibu and away from the beach, especially after Monica.

  He pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal when her name popped into his head. He hated it when that woman popped into his thoughts. Just thinking about her opened up wounds still raw and painful.

  Rebecca had been astonished that he just packed up and moved across the country? Right. He’d nearly blurted out any man would have done the same thing if he came home to find his business partner in bed with his fiancé. The whole sordid mess still burned him. In his mind there was no business partner, at least there wouldn’t be once he got things going in the East. But right now, he needed the reputation of the partnership. A nasty litigation was one sure-fire way to see that everything he spent the past ten years working for ended up thrown away on attorneys.

  Fifteen years of work. Dammit, he wasn’t going to throw his life away just because of a self-absorbed vixen.

  By the time Matt pulled into his garage, his gut was wrenched in knots. He marched into his townhouse, slammed the door and headed straight for the bar. It might be a breakfast bar in the kitchen, but it was still a goddamned bar. After pouring himself a shot of Crown Royal, he threw it back and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Pouring another, he stared into the amber liquid. He didn’t want it. Shit, he hated feeling like this. Betrayed, angry, ready to hit something.

  Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to clear his mind. He closed his eyes, and focused on the roar of the ocean and the color blue. The buzz from the whisky swirled through his mind as he drew a breath through his nose and slowly let it slip through pursed lips.

  That’s right. Think positively. You’re stronger than this. And now you’re starting a new life. A new place, a new dog, new friends. And hey, you’ll be throwing the football with Ryan on Thursday. That rocks.

  A sophomore on the varsity, the kid was well built and had Becky’s long legs, which probably made him fast. Matt opened his eyes and turned the shot glass between his fingers. Maybe he could be a positive influence? The boy had no father. Was there a male relative who had taken over that role? It didn’t matter. Throwing a football always rocked no matter what.

  He grabbed the whisky and tossed it back. No use wasting the good stuff. Then his gaze shot to the door leading to the garage.

  Damn—Patches.

  Matt rushed back out to the car and pulled out the crate. The dog wagged his tail in a happy greeting.

  Matt laughed. “Now you’re exactly what I need to keep my mind focused on the positive. I’m sorry, dude. I’ll never leave you in the garage again. Do you forgive me, little guy?”

  Thank God it wasn’t hot out, or cold. This was not Southern California. It gets cold in New Jersey, and Chihuahuas were indoor dogs. It said that in bold letters on Rebecca’s instruction sheet.

  Another pleasant thought.

  He grinned, taking Patches out of the crate and setting him down in front of the water bowl. “You thirsty, little fella?”

  The phone in his pocket vibrated. Phone calls had been far less frequent now he’d moved and changed his number. The screen read unidentified.

  It could be Rebecca.

  He swiped his finger toward the green arrow. “Hello?”

  “Matty!”

  Every muscle tensed. If he’d known it was her he would have preferred to flush the phone down the toilet than answer it. “Monica. How’d you get my number?”

  “Brad, silly.”

  Brad Evans, his partner, the man she cheated with. Matt clenched his teeth.

  “I just wanted you to know that I’m thinking about you,”
she said.

  “What? Did Brad walk in on you with someone else?”

  “Aw, is Matty still angry with me? I’m sorry, baby, I was wrong.” She giggled. He hated that sound now. “And um…I’ve realized you’re the only man for me, Matt Johnson.”

  Is she kidding? Did she just think she could apologize with that sweet childlike voice and waltz back into my life?

  “I beg to differ. It’s over, Monica.” Matt pushed the red phone icon and tossed the cell on the counter.

  ***

  When the line clicked dead, Monica pursed her lips. “Shit.”

  You haven’t heard the last of me, Matt Johnson. Maybe I made a mistake but I’m going to get you back.

  Looking at her fresh manicure with cherry red nail polish, she reclined in her ultra-modern cream colored lounge in her ultra-modern apartment financed by her ridiculously rich father. Monica got everything she wanted and Matt would be no exception.

  Brad had left his cell phone on the kitchen counter and she pulled Matt’s number off it while he slept. She shook her head. Brad proved to be quite a bore, a regrettable mistake. Sure, she planned to string him along until Matt came around. She would have to think of a plan, a delicious scheme Matt would be unable to refuse.

  Matt can’t resist me, and there aren’t any California girls in New Jersey. Hmm…

  She smiled and clicked the numbers on her phone. “Raphael?”

  “Ma chérie, it’s good to hear from you.”

  “When can I book you for a sitting?”

  “Are you free next Monday?”

  “Yes. At my place.”

  Chapter Three

  Matt rang Rebecca’s doorbell Thursday evening and stood for several minutes wondering if Ryan had forgotten about practice. He started heading to the studio when the door cracked open. “Hey, dude. You ready to throw a few?”

  “Oh yeah. Let me put my cleats on.”

  “Right. I’ll just be a minute.” Matt grabbed Patches out of his crate and tapped on the studio door. He found Rebecca in the midst of a pile of white fur, clipping a Toy Poodle. “Boy that looks like a grooming job from hell.”

  She glanced up, fur hanging from her bangs, hiding one eye. God, she was cute. “Oh, hi—yep, Poodles are a lot of work but I don’t mind.”

  “Can I put Patches in the ex-pen while I practice with Ryan?”

  She inclined her head. “Go right ahead.”

  Matt set Patches down and slipped past Rebecca, untying the bow on the back of her Chihuahua apron.

  “Hey!”

  Matt grinned, trotting out the door, laughing at his antics. “See you in class.”

  The lawn in front of the house must have been a half-acre. As with everything, Rebecca’s yard was picturesque—nicely edged by dogwood and maple trees that sprouted from well-manicured flower beds. It was all framed by a tall hedge across the front that added privacy. The open lawn was the perfect place to practice. When he was a kid, Matt’s yard was landscaped with rock, palm trees and desert cactus and the beach was the only place to play ball, which wasn’t bad either.

  “Want to toss a few for starters?” Matt threw the ball, feeling Ryan out, making his passes more challenging with each throw.

  The boy kept up, showing promise. “Coach ran us pretty hard today.”

  “Yeah? You tired?”

  “Not so tired I can’t run a few plays. Coach has been sending me in a lot, which is pretty awesome for a sophomore.”

  Matt threw a wide pass. “Cool.”

  Ryan stretched out and nabbed it with one hand. “I caught a touchdown pass last game.”

  “Yeah? Way to go, dude.” He caught the boy’s return pass. “Let’s make sure that happens again—here’s one you can teach your quarterback.”

  “Cool.”

  Matt walked closer to explain. “Start with a fake handoff, then I’ll roll right. You run about fifteen yards up the seam, make a sharp cut left, but once your defender’s hips turn, shoot off the opposite direction at top speed. He’ll never be able to catch you. Got it?”

  “Yeah.” Ryan grinned and lined up.

  Matt held the ball as if it were being snapped by the Center. “Eighty-nine, Eighty-nine, hut, hut.” He stepped back, faking the hand-off and Ryan peeled straight forward. “Watch your defender’s hips. Move now!”

  Ryan cut right, Matt threw a bullet straight at his chest. The boy plucked the ball from midair, drew it in and raced down the lawn.

  “Good, now do it again. When you’re on the field, your focus has to be on your defender’s hips—if they turn right, you cut left. All you need to think about is two things—the position of the bad guy’s hips, and once you shake him, the only thing on your mind should be the ball.”

  ***

  Rebecca watched through the studio window while the boys ran the play over and over until it looked like a dance. Then Matt pulled off his sweatshirt revealing a white t-shirt stretched tight across his rock-hard chest. Dear Lord, he was as fit as a body builder, or maybe it was all guys from Malibu had biceps like his?

  Regardless of the reason, Rebecca moaned out loud. A spike of sizzling heat curled through her stomach and lower. She wrapped her arms across her body to squelch her reaction.

  Matt crouched for the hike, his jeans clinging to a chiseled derriere. The man was hard as a walking Greek statue. Rebecca licked her lips and leaned closer to the window. He crisscrossed his feet backward and his arm slung up for the throw.

  Brett Favre has nothing on this guy.

  Covering her mouth with her hand, she focused on her son. Ryan caught every pass, and Matt was making them difficult. They were laughing and giving high fives. Next, Matt threw a laser slamming so hard into Ryan’s chest, she could hear the hollow thump through the glass as the boy careened into a backward summersault.

  Gasping, Rebecca rushed outside.

  Ryan rolled to his knees and tossed the ball back. “Jeez, I wish you could quarterback for Shawnee.”

  She stopped midstride while they both looked at her expectantly.

  “You all right?” Biting her lip, she twisted a ringlet of hair around her finger.

  Ryan snorted. “Yeah, Mom. Did you see that? Jeez, it was like catching a ninety-mile-per-hour baseball with my bare hands.”

  “Not quite.” Matt grinned, his chest heaving and stretching the white t-shirt beyond tight.

  Gulping, Rebecca forced herself to put on her Mom face and look at Ryan. “Dinner’s ready. You hungry, Matt?”

  The ex-UCLA quarterback casually tossed the ball into the air and caught it behind his back. “Sure, I’m not one to turn down a home-cooked meal.”

  “Great.” Thank goodness she had lasagna warming in the oven. “Wash up before you come to the table, please.”

  Everything proceeded normally—no broken dishes, no food dropped on the floor, until Amanda came into the dining room and shoved her fists into her hips. “So what’s the occasion?”

  “Hey, Amanda.” Matt raised his glass of milk in toast—still wearing that damned second-skin t-shirt.

  Ryan tossed a piece of French bread at her as she took her seat. “Matt’s teaching me some moves. Did you know he played in the Rose Bowl?”

  Amanda yawned and looked at Matt. “Hmm. I didn’t know they had bowl games back when you were in college.”

  Laughing, Matt focused on cutting his lasagna with the side of his fork. A tic twitched in his jaw. Though after he took his first bite, his eyes lit up. “Mm. Rebecca, this is amazing.”

  “Thank you.” Rebecca beamed, then pointed her knife at her son. “So, Ryan, was Matt a help?”

  “Definitely. He showed me a pattern I want to try out at the game tomorrow night.”

  “You have a game tomorrow?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah, Shawnee plays Lenape. It’s the biggest game of the year.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going,” Amanda said, in a passive-aggressive way as she smeared butter over her bread.

  Rebecca snapped
her gaze to her daughter. “Excuse me?”

  Matt shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  “What’d ya mean intrude?” Ryan balled up his napkin and tossed it at his sister. “Shut up, Amanda. He can go to the game if he wants.”

  Rebecca held up her hands like a referee, wishing she had a whistle. “Amanda, I will not tolerate your being rude to a guest in our house.” She thrust her finger at her youngest. “Ryan, if I see you throw one more thing, you’ll be on kitchen duty for the rest of the month. And yes, if Matt wants to go to the game, he is most certainly welcome.” She shot a challenging gaze between her two offspring before giving a resolute nod to Matt, surprised he hadn’t already raced for the door.

  He gave her a grin while Amanda pursed her lips and played with her food.

  Rebecca shuddered. Clearly Ryan was thrilled to have Matt around. Jeez, with her brother working in China, there were no other men to throw the ball with the boy and help coach him. Matt’s involvement was a great opportunity for her son, and Amanda needed to chill out.

  Thankfully, dinner progressed without another mishap, and while the guys did the dishes, Rebecca slipped up to Amanda’s room and cracked the door open. “Mandy, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Without giving a response, her daughter lay face down on her bed, hugging a hot pink fuzzy pillow and staring at the floor.

  Rebecca slipped inside, closing the door behind. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  Ah yes, the standard remark.

  “Right. So that’s why you look like you’re ready to throw darts when Matt’s around?”

  Amanda squeezed the pillow tighter and a tear slipped from her eye. Rebecca knelt down beside the bed and put her arm around her daughter. “Sweetheart, you’re really bothered, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Amanda squeaked.

  “Why?”

  Amanda looked over at the family picture on the bedside table, the one taken only a few months before the accident. “I don’t know. God, Mom, I miss him so much.”