The Perfect Play by Jaci Burton

Author:Jaci Burton [Burton, Jaci]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Man-Woman Relationships, Single Mothers, Football, Sports & Recreation, Fiction, Romance, Erotic Fiction, Football Players, Erotica, General
ISBN: 9780425238813
Google: 3ChSUo7fCpsC
Amazon: 0425238814
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2011-02-01T07:53:54+00:00

IT WASN’T HARD TO FIND THE BRIGHTLY LIT HOUSE where the party was. Mick looked for all the cars parked haphazardly in the driveway. And the noise level was jet engine loud. For this late at night, he was surprised the cops hadn’t been called. These people must have really understanding neighbors. He went up to the front door and rang the bell, then figured there wasn’t a chance in hell they’d hear it since the music was ear-splitting. He tried the knob, and the door opened. Great. He rolled his eyes and walked in.

Disaster, was his first thought. Discarded paper plates and plastic cups and napkins and food and drink and furniture had been shoved out of whack. It looked like a crime scene. Or a party. The first thing Mick smelled was the alcohol, which had a stronger odor than the pizza, surprising considering there were about twenty or so empty pizza boxes strewn all over the room.

He picked his way through a throng of beefy football players, several jailbait-age inappropriately dressed girls, all of whom sized him up—were they serious?

“Anyone seen Nathan?” he asked of one of the guys, who looked up at him with a half-lidded gaze that spelled either drunk or stoned.

“Nuh-uh.”

Mick moved on toward the kitchen. So far he hadn’t seen an adult in sight. Good thing Tara hadn’t come to pick up Nathan. She’d be near fainting by now.

He found Nathan out back hanging with a group of three guys and two girls. And he was just about as shit-faced as the rest of the partygoers.

Not good.

“Mick! My man! Wazz up?”

“Let’s go.”

“Dude, let’s stay and party.” Nathan threw his arm around Mick. “Do you know who this is? This is Mick Riley, San Francisco’s quarterback.”

“We know, dude. Dude, you are one lucky sonbitch.” One of the guys grinned. “How awesome is it that your mom is with him?”

“Like, wow, you’re Mick Riley.” One of the girls stumbled out of her lawn chair and fell toward him, trying her best to look provocative.

“Whose house is this, Nathan?” Mick asked.

“Tim O’Banyan.”

“And where are Tim’s parents?”

“Cabo,” everyone said in unison, laughing as they raised their plastic cups to Tim’s parents in a toast.

Oh, shit. “Come on. We’re leaving. Say good night.” Mick should probably call someone and put a stop to the debauchery, but his only concern was Nathan and getting him home. He couldn’t be responsible for the entire team and their girlfriends.

“’Kay. Night, peeps.”

Mick led Nathan to his car and got out of there, figuring it was only a matter of time before the local cops made their appearance.

“Have a good time?”

Nathan grinned, hiccupped, then laughed. “Yup.”

“Do a little drinking?”

“Nope. Did a lot of drinking.”

“I can tell. Think that’s a smart idea?”

“Yup. Very smart.”

No point in trying to talk sense to him tonight. Mick drove in silence, listening to Nathan hum, then sing, burp, laugh, and rattle on nonsensically.

Unfortunately, Nathan started weaving back and forth in the seat. And Mick noticed he was getting paler by the minute.

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